Disclaimers: All belongs to DC. I'm just a lowly fangirl.

Spoilers: Vague ones through the current run of Teen
Titans.

Summary: Tim and Kon have an actual conversation.
And then do other stuff.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: This was supposed to be an entirely
different story, one with even more gratuitous sex.
Guess I'll just have to keep trying.

Acknowledgments: To L.C., Shrift, and Jack for
audiencing, encouragement, and inspiration.

*

It's a normal Saturday night at the Tower, which
means that he's on the roof staring out at a city he's
only partially responsible for, and only part-time,
and Kon's with him. They aren't talking about their
issues, and Kon's already paid his usual lip service
to hitting the town, and Tim's already given his
usual refusal.

It isn't that he can't see the appeal of a night in
San Francisco while they both pretend to be
nothing but typical underaged boys seeing the
sights and getting into trouble; it's just that three
years of being Robin has pretty effectively cured
him of the idea that 'getting into trouble' would
be anything but literal.

There are few things more stressful than trying
to figure out ways to fight the inevitable crime
while he's in civvies, and there are only so many
times he can go out as someone who's only
*pretending* to be Robin before he loses what
little sanity he has left.

He's doling them out sparingly.

And, well, it seems a little unfair to Kon -- he'd
*like* to be the kind of friend who Kon could go
out and party with -- but that's just not going to
happen tonight. And Kon doesn't seem to mind
*too* much. It's only been a couple of months,
and there's already a routine to this, and
something of an unspoken rule. No one bothers
them when they're up here.

Sometimes Tim wonders what the others think
they're *doing*, but he really has no intention
of asking. He does kind of wonder about Kon.

Sometimes Tim thinks these quiet moments of
just being together, just being *friends* who
aren't actively battling to save the world, mean
as much to Kon as they do to him. And he'll
actually say some of that... some other time.

Tim grins to himself and settles into a more
comfortable stance. He can see Kon raising an
eyebrow at him out of the corner of his eye.
"What?"

"Whenever you do that, I keep expecting
supervillains to jump out of the sky, dude."

"I just shifted my feet a little."

Kon snorts. "Yeah, and it would take you exactly
how many nanoseconds to pull a weapon?"

"Point. I'm not planning on it."

Kon snorts again and crosses his arms over his
chest. "Good to know."

There are a lot of things *he'd* like to know.
What prompted this latest uniform-change, for
one. Or, really, what Kon would *say* if Tim
asked. He has his own theories about it. A
desire to distance himself a little more from
Clark, while not distancing himself from the legacy.
On a shallower -- and more effective -- level, a
desire to distance himself from the boy he'd been.

The boy he still is, and sometimes it weirds Tim
out more than a little that Kon's six inches taller
than he is and twelve *years* younger. He thinks
he's supposed to be used to that sort of thing by
now.

He wonders if that's even possible.

"What are you thinking about?"

You. Your clothes, what we're doing up here
again, what you're going to say when I have to
stop... "Nothing, really."

"Wonder Boy." Kon shakes his head. "Some
things don't change."

These days, Kon only calls him 'Wonder Boy'
when he's pointing out, consciously or no, that
Tim is being especially... Battish. He looks at
Kon and gets a long, steady look in return. A
*pointed* look, though Kon still drops his eyes
first.

Tim knows it's the mask more than anything
else that does it. When Tim's bare-faced, Kon
doesn't have much trouble at all staring him
down.

Kon frowns down at the roof, and he looks
like he's maybe thirty seconds from saying
something that'll lead to him going back inside,
going to find someone who'll talk to him. With
him.

"I wish..." Tim doesn't actually know how to
finish that thought. There are a dozen different
true things he could say. He looks back out over
the Bay.

Kon looks up at him from under his lashes. "That
was nearly a personal moment, there, Rob.
Wanna watch that."

"I don't mind personal moments." It comes out
precisely as much of a whining protest as it
should. He winces internally, and listens to Kon
laugh at him.

"Yeah. On *TV*. In someone else's *house*.
Sixteen miles in the opposite direction from
*you*."

Tim crosses his arms under the cape. "I'm..."
Here, aren't I? "I don't mind personal moments,"
he says again, instead. He can feel Kon looking
at him.

It's almost a *Look*, actually.

Tim pastes a smile on his face and turns. And...
says absolutely nothing because he realizes that
it's exactly the smile he uses whenever Dick
gets too close. The I'm-fine-really-just-being-a-
broody-idiot smile, and it makes his stomach
churn, a little.

For a lot of reasons.

Not least of which is the fact that Kon responds
to it immediately, grinning right back.

Of course he would. It's a nice smile -- Tim's
had a long time to perfect it. He isn't supposed
to smile like that with Kon, with any of *them*.
It's for his... his *family*, and for the times when
they felt like letting him bullshit them. It's for...

There's something really fucked up about it. A
big, huge, fundamental fuck-up over and above
all of the little nasty things he really *is* used
to. The lines are falling apart, and coming down.
Young Justice was never the Titans, but now he
*is* a Titan, and he'd always known the Titans
were Dick's *other* family, but he'd never
thought...

He isn't supposed to be looking like whatever he
looks like now, that's making the grin fall off
Kon's face like something out of a particularly
disturbing cartoon.

"Tim...?"

He wipes his expression clean with an act of will
and stares down at the roof. "Yeah."

"Um... what the fuck?"

It's nothing. There aren't enough lines. It's
nothing. "I'm not entirely sure."

Kon's hand is on his shoulder. One of his hands.
The other is on his face, under his chin. Tilting
his head up. "Hey."

"Yeah."

Kon winces and turns his head away *and*
squeezes his shoulder.

Tim is so not the one to say anything about mixed
messages right now.

"So," Kon says to the space somewhere over his
own shoulder, "I'm getting that something *is*
actually going on with you."

He tenses, and watches Kon feel it. It's visible
in the way his brow furrows. A year ago, his
hair was long enough to cover that sort of thing.
He really does look older. No one is ever going
to refer to him as 'the Kid' anymore.

Everything changes. And Kon's looking at him
seriously, openly.

It's a ridiculous thought -- Kon does everything
openly, including lie. Tim swallows, and tries to
figure out what he has to do to make that
worried look fade off Kon's face.

"Is this... I mean, when you told me that maybe
one day there'd be something you'd... want my
help with. I... I just kind of figured it was one of
those things people say when they want to
make someone feel better for being a whiny
little bitch, you know?"

He's not entirely wrong. Tim hadn't really
intended it to mean anything at all. Sometimes
intent gets in the way of the truth. "I... thought
you might have," is what he says.

Kon nods, and *looks* at him. "If there *is*
something... you can tell me. I'm... I want to
know." Kon grins ruefully, and for some reason
it just makes everything clearer, more visceral.

The heat of his hand on Tim's face, the way he's
still just barely squeezing Tim's shoulder. They
don't touch very much. He doesn't really touch
anyone that much. Sooner or later -- probably
sooner -- Kon is going to realize that they *are*
touching, and then he'll let go. "Okay," Tim says,
as neutrally as he can. He's not going to rush it.

Kon frowns and lets go of his face. "I'm
*serious*, Tim."

"I know --"

"No, I mean... even if you *know* I can't do
anything to help, okay? I mean, I don't expect
you to be able to solve every problem I throw
at you, and... I mean, just talking is okay, right?
For friends."

"Sometimes I don't think we *are* friends, Kon,"
he says, and there are so *many* ways in which
that was the wrong thing to say. He's *already*
made Kon ask, he *knows* Kon isn't sure about
him, and he knows...

The blood drains out of Kon's face so *fast*.

"No. That wasn't -- that didn't come out right --"

"Yeah, okay," and Kon's hand isn't on his shoulder,
anymore. "Look, I'm just --"

"Wait."

Kon pauses, but doesn't say anything. His back is
to Tim, and it should... it should make it easier,
right?

"I just. It isn't just... I don't think 'friendship' is
the right word."

Kon turns, just his head, and Tim can see his
jaw working. "You're going to have to be more
specific than that, man."

"You..." He can't keep looking at Kon. The Bay
is still there, though. Tim crosses his arms a
little tighter under the cape.

"Tim --"

"You go to high school now. Conner Kent does,
anyway."

"Yeah..." There's a wariness in Kon's voice. His
instincts were always good.

"So... you see them, right? The other kids. The
*normal* kids. And what they call 'friendship.'"
It's funny, or maybe it's just the point: He's
spent enough time with Kon to be able to *feel*
it when he frowns.

"What's your point?"

"Do you..." He forces himself to look at Kon
again, or at least nearly at him. You can get
away with a lot in a mask. "Does it really feel the
same for you? These... these people who get
upset when their 'best friend' shows up late
for a study date and..."

"Us?"

Tim stares at Kon's 's.' "Yeah."

He can still feel Kon frowning. "Why are you
thinking about *them*, man? You... I mean,
we're just marking time. And then we'll graduate
and..."

"Save the universe a few more times?"

Kon laughs, but there isn't much humor in it.
When Tim looks up, Kon is scrubbing a hand
over his buzz. Or he starts to, and then he just
leaves his hand there, and does some Bay-staring
himself.

"Kon?"

"Okay, see." He gestures vaguely with his other
hand. "As near as I can tell, you could be talking
about how you feel about me -- which would be
freaky enough, man -- or you could be talking
about how you've maybe finally figured out that
you're not just marking time *here*, with the
rest of us, or you could be talking about
something entirely different." Kon looks at him,
half-smiling, one hand still on his head.

And then he takes it off and shoves it in his
pocket.

"Or you could be talking about all of the above."

Tim smiles, a little helplessly. "Maybe."

"Maybe." Kon nods. "Right."

Tim thinks about uncrossing his arms, and then
just leaves them there. Waits.

"I guess I'm trying to figure out if I should try to
get specifics out of you, or..."

"Or?"

Kon takes a deep, shuddering breath that Tim
can... he can feel it.

It makes him want to breathe, too.

"Tim, I haven't been sure whether I wanted to
punch you or fuck you for about a year now."

Tim feels his face heat. "That long?"

"Maybe longer. Don't try to tell me you didn't
know."

"I knew."

Kon laughs and crosses his arms over his chest
again, absently leaning out over the edge of
the roof.

Another few inches and he'll have to use the TK
to stay up. He settles back on his heels, instead.

"So part of me... I guess I was waiting to be
sure. Because you'd know *that*, too, and then
you'd explain what we were going to *do*
about it, or maybe we'd just kill each other."

He doesn't really have anything to say to that.

Kon nods to himself. "I figured I'd know you
better by then, too. That knowing you better
would be the thing that *let* me know what I
actually wanted to do with you. What I
*wanted* from you."

Tim nods. They're both, theoretically, staring at
the Bay. It's entirely possible that a sea monster
could rise from the depths and flip them off
without either of them noticing.

"And then I just kind of figured I never would,
but by *then* it was okay, anyway. I just... I
thought this was how it was going to be, and I
went back and forth between trying to figure
out which of us was more fucked-up, and I
wondered how much of how you were was
because it was the way you *had* to be --"

"A lot."

Kon sucks in a breath, and Tim knows what it
feels like when Kon glares at him, too.

"Kon --"

"This is -- that *was* what we had, and that was
*everything* I had, so, yeah, it's what I fucking
call *friendship*, Tim."

Tim stares at the bay just a *little* more. "I
have a father. And a mother."

"What?"

"They aren't Batman --"

"Well, *obviously*, dude --"

Tim holds up a hand. "Wait. Just a second." He
forces himself to look Kon in the eye. "Okay?"

Kon frowns and nods.

"They don't know... they don't know about any
of this. I've been lying to them for years. They
think... they think I'm at some special
vocational training program right now. They
think I'm..."

"Normal."

"Yeah. And it's... for a long time I was okay
with it. Or I told myself... I don't know. I think
I was angry with my father, and I was just...
I wasn't thinking about it."

Kon shifts and moves closer. A little. "But
now you are. Thinking about it."

"Yeah. No. I'm... it's just one part of everything
else. Like how..." He can keep looking at Kon.
And he will. "You don't know me well enough to
know when I'm just smiling to keep you from
looking too closely."

Kon frowns. "You haven't exactly --"

"You don't know me well enough to know that
I would've had sex with you any time you asked."

Kon blinks. "I. Jesus, Tim."

"And maybe let you punch me, too."

"You fucking *deserved* it, you --" Kon tightens
his arms over his chest and he's not really
frowning *at* Tim, but Tim knows he'd be able
to feel it even if he wasn't looking.

Tim swallows again. "You mean a lot to me, Kon.
You pretty much always have."

"You. Sound like you're saying good-bye," Kon
says to the roof.

"I don't want to."

"That isn't a 'no,' Tim."

"No. It isn't."

Kon's silent for a long moment before laughing.
A *lot*. And then he looks at Tim, and the
smile on his face is completely real and doesn't
get anywhere near his eyes. "You say I don't
know you, and you're totally right, man, but I
*do* know enough to know that it's *exactly*
like you to wait to say this stuff until you were
about to... do whatever the fuck you're
planning."

"I'm not planning anything --"

"And the day I believe that is the day fucking
Beast Boy turns blue, asshole." And Kon leans in,
arms still crossed, but Tim knows those hands
could be on him faster than he could blink. Much
faster than he could move.

"Kon --"

"It's not gonna work."

Tim blinks. "What --"

"Whatever it is you're planning. However you
plan to drop off the face off the earth. You..."
And Kon looks at his mouth, and Tim thinks
about mentioning how much of a tell that is, and
he thinks about jumping off the roof, and he
thinks about the way Kon's tongue feels against
his own, slick and hot and palpably *strong*,
and he doesn't think about the way he's moaning,
and he doesn't think at all about the way it feels
when he cups Kon's face and *holds* him there.

He can feel Kon's groan in his teeth, and then
Kon's arm is around his waist, pulling him in
*tight*, and Kon's other hand is on his cape,
gripping it and pulling.

Tim sucks on Kon's tongue and feels greedy,
feels helpless and overheated and feels too
*much*.

"It won't *work*," Kon says again, breathing
hard against Tim's mouth, and Tim wonders
which of them he's trying to convince.

"Kon --"

"Shut up," Kon says, and kisses him again, and
Tim plants his feet and takes it, and it's almost
like a punishment. Because it's perfect, and it's
hot, and it's maybe killing him, and Tim knows
exactly how long ago he could've had this. How
many times, and in how many different places,
and Tim whimpers and Kon clutches him
harder.

And lets go of the cape to grab Tim's ass
instead. Tim gasps into Kon's mouth and feels
himself shuddering somewhere deep inside
himself where he can't touch and he can't
*control* when Kon bites his lip.

"Any time I asked, Tim?"

"Yes. Kon -- *fuck* --" And there should be
better words for that, better and more -- he
can't, because Kon's lifting him and *holding*
him and the armor in Tim's suit doesn't do a
thing to keep him from feeling how hard Kon
is under his jeans. "Oh, God --"

"I'm asking," Kon says, and licks Tim's ear.
"I'm asking you right now."

Tim hears himself moan and tries to keep from
thrusting, tries to remember *why* he isn't
thrusting --

"You want it in words, Tim? I want to fuck
you. I want --"

And just because he's moaning doesn't mean
he can't *move*. Tim twists and *pushes*,
and Kon lets him go immediately, and Tim
drops to his knees.

"Tim --"

And works on Kon's fly. No buckles, no straps,
no *tights*. Just simple jeans and simple
boxers under them, and *skin* under that.
Heat and --

"Oh Christ. I didn't -- I didn't mean --"

Tim can hear it in Kon's voice. What he must
look like right now, and what *Kon* probably
looks like, and he shouldn't do it like this, he
knows -- it has to be just one more way Tim's
pushed too hard and too *wrong*, but Kon
feels so good in his hand and he smells dark and
sweet and *thick* and he tastes --

"Tim... *Tim* --"

"I want you," he says, and it's almost meaningless
after everything else. It *has* to be, but it still
makes Kon buck into his fist, makes him --

"Tim, please..."

Kon's hands in his hair and the head of his dick
brushing slick and hot over Tim's lips, and licking
them just means licking *Kon*, and Kon bucks
again and this time Tim opens his mouth and
takes it.

"*Fuck*, you, I can't..." And Kon groans like it
*hurts*, and Tim has to look up, has to see how
wide Kon's eyes are, and the way he's biting his
lip and *staring* at him.

And then Kon strokes the edges of the mask
with shaking fingers and Tim moans around
Kon's dick and feels himself shooting pre-come
into his briefs. And goes down until he's
grinding his lips against his own fist.

Kon's knees buckle and he *thrusts* and Tim
moans again and Kon *shakes*. "*Tim*. You...
oh, fuck please don't stop. Just don't stop..."

He squeezes his eyes shut behind the mask
and gropes blindly with his free hand until Kon
catches it, until Kon holds on, and it's just like
he was always supposed to be doing this. Like
Kon was always supposed to be fucking his
mouth in short, ragged thrusts that feel as
desperate as Tim knows he sounds.

Too good, too much, and Tim whimpers and
squeezes Kon's fingers when Kon tightens his
other hand in Tim's hair.

He wants to say it. That he won't stop, that he
*can't*, but the only thing he can do is make
hungry, strangled, incoherent *noise* around Kon's
dick and suck.

"Oh... fucking *God*, Tim --"

Yes.

"You feel so *good* --"

*Please*, he says with everything he can, with the
way his tongue is pressed up against the underside
of Kon's dick, and Kon shouts, grunts and pulls
Tim's hair and *holds* his head still.

"I can't -- I have to -- oh fuck I want you, Tim --"

In, pushing, pushing, and Tim can *feel* Kon
needing to fuck his throat, to get all the way in,
and he doesn't know if he can *do* that, and he
doesn't want to let go of Kon's dick, because it
feels so hot and right in his hand, and he
squeezes and sucks and if Kon tightens his hand
any more he's going to *break* Tim's and --

"*Fuck* -- "

And Kon comes mid-thrust, all over Tim's tongue
and the back of his throat, and Tim licks and
swallows and isn't sure which of them is moaning
until Kon pulls out and stumbles back, and Tim
hears himself again.

Hollow and needy and he *can't* let go of
Kon's hand. All he can do is moan and shove
his shorts and tights down, pull his jock out of
the way, and he can't even *stroke*. Just
squeeze Kon's hand and squeeze himself
harder.

"Kon," he says, because he has to.

"Oh, God, you --" And then Kon shakes his
hand free and Tim whimpers and Kon's *on*
him, pushing him flat on his back and holding
him down with one hand on Tim's chest and the
TK, and pulling his tights down further.

He opens his eyes and Kon's *staring* at him,
wide-eyed and wild-eyed and flushed. "Kon," and
this time it's just another moan, and another
when Kon knocks Tim's hand aside and replaces
it with his own.

"You're so hard --"

"*Kon* --"

"Fuck, say my name again, say it just like --"

"Kon please. Please --"

And Kon winces like he's in pain, like he's the one
getting the orgasm pulled out of him by main
force, and presses down harder on Tim's chest
with his free hand.

"*Please*, Kon, oh God your hand --"

"Tim..." And Kon strokes him fast and hard and
slides his other hand up to Tim's face, up to his
mouth. "Don't... don't swallow too much. I want
to taste myself in your mouth when I kiss you --"

And Tim groans and arches off the roof and
grabs Kon's hand with his own and *holds* it
there so he can suck on Kon's fingers --

"*Jesus*, Tim --"

And Tim bites Kon's fingertips and comes all
over Kon's fist, fucking his way through his own
slickness until his brain catches up with the fact
that he's whimpering in *pain*.

He pulls Kon's fingers out of his mouth and
breathes.

And then breathes into Kon's mouth, because
Kon can move *fast* when he wants to, when
he wants to shove his tongue into Tim's mouth
and *lick*.

Tim whimpers again and opens wide for it,
reaching up to wrap his arms around Kon and
hold him down against his own body.

"I'm not done, Tim. I'm not..."

Kon kisses him again and shifts until he's
straddling Tim's waist, hands on his shoulders
and *pushing*. Tim gasps between kisses, as
much as he can. "We --"

"No," Kon says, and sucks on Tim's lower lip
hard enough to hurt.

"Inside," Tim says, when he gets a chance, and
Kon pushes down harder and fucks Tim's
mouth with his tongue and Tim gives up and
spreads his legs as much as he can with Kon's
thighs bracketing him.

"*Yeah*," and Kon rolls them over onto their
sides and *touches* him, and it's... it shouldn't
feel like so much more after everything they've
already done, but it is. Kon strokes his back and
squeezes his hip and bites his chin and rolls
them back over and *grinds* down against
him --

"*Kon* -- oh God --"

Hand in his hair again and Kon *looks* at him,
and strokes his other hand over Tim's mask
until he finds the lens switch.

Night-vision. Infra-red. White-out. None. Tim
blinks up at Kon and breathes. He can taste
his own blood on his lip and Kon's come at the
back of his tongue.

"You know how long I wanted this, Tim."

"Yes --"

"Now I know how long *you* wanted this, too."

Tim feels his dick twitch *hard* and moans. And
tilts his head back.

Kon just looks at him for a long moment, and
then he leans in and *bites* Tim's throat,
nuzzling the collar of Tim's cape aside and
sucking and stroking down Tim's arms until he
can catch Tim's wrists and *squeeze*. And pull
them up over Tim's head.

"You... you want to hold me down --"

Kon growls against his skin and bites harder for
a second before pulling back. "Tim --"

"I won't -- I'm not going anywhere --"

"I don't *believe* you," Kon says and bites him
again. Almost *too* hard, and it's much too
soon but Tim can feel himself getting hard
again.

And he can feel *Kon* feeling it. "You like
this. You -- Tim."

Yes. More. "I want you."

Kon pants against his throat and Tim pushes
up -- a little -- against the hands on his wrists.
And Kon licks him, slow and wet and back into
Tim's mouth. Out and in and it's not a kiss so
much as a *promise*, and Tim arches up into
it and moans. "Yeah," Kon says, and lets go,
moving back and pulling Tim's tights down
even further before stroking up his thighs.

"Kon --"

"I just... I want... take off your cape."

Tim nods jerkily and does it, and when he
swallows it feels like he's doing it around his
own heart.

"You're so fucking sexy, Tim," Kon says, and
squeezes his thighs. "Turn over."

He can't even get the whimper out this time. It's
just air. It's just... Tim turns over and Kon strokes
up over his ass, strokes his back and pushes him
down until he's flat on his stomach. The cape's
lining is cool and smooth on his dick and Kon
isn't breathing any harder than he is.

"You're so... I can't --"

Kon's hands on his ass again make Tim gasp,
make him want to grind down against his own
cape. The small, lucid part of his mind is asking
in small, clear language what he's *doing*, but
it's the same part that always wanted to
remind him what Batman needed, and what
Batman needed from *him*.

There's nothing like that here, and there
shouldn't be, and most of him knows that. It
has to mean something -- maybe even more
than the fact that he can't even remember right
now how *long* he's wanted this. He doesn't
know -- he can't wrap his mind around it in
more than small, half-connected flashes of
image and sensation. What he must look like
half-stripped on his stomach.

The way they're not really even *doing*
anything right now, but Kon's still moaning on
every other breath, like just touching his legs
and his back and his ass is something...
something as amazing as it feels.

"Kon," he says, and hopes it sounds
encouraging. He's never been any good at
dealing with people touching him, even when
he wants it, and he's never sure what
*messages* he sends, but Kon's hands settle
on his hips and tighten hard.

"Tim. You..."

"Please."

Kon makes a small, hurt-sounding noise and
squeezes Tim's hips again before leaning in.
Hot breath on the back of his neck and... it isn't
weight. Kon's hardly touching him at *all*. But
he's over him. So close. So... *much*. "Tim."

"Yes."

Kon kisses the back of his neck, slow and wet
and messy, and Tim breathes and shudders
and presses his forehead against his cape,
trying to push his neck against Kon's mouth.
"God, Tim. I want... I want you." And Kon
makes a frustrated sound and moves back
down his body.

Tim thinks Kon's kissing him, but he's still in the
tunic and he can't tell for sure. He's never
wanted to be naked so much in his life. And
then -- "Oh --" His body can't decide if Kon's lips
feel soft or hard. His tongue is wet, ticklish at
the base of Tim's spine, and Tim doesn't realize
he's squirming until Kon's hands tighten on his
hips again.

"Don't -- just let me --"

"Kon, you --" Can do anything, he was going to
say, but it comes out on a noise that can't
decide whether to be a moan or a yell, because
Kon's licking him. Down his cleft and up again
and Tim feels himself tensing all over.

Kon holds him *tight* and licks him again.
Again --

"Don't stop. Please don't -- oh God --" He can't
decide if it's better to hear Kon moaning or to
*feel* it, and then 'deciding' anything is a just
a little too advanced, because Kon shoves his
tongue *in*, and it feels -- he hasn't --

Gasping when Kon pulls out, and his mouth
hurts and that's when Tim knows he's biting
his *tongue*. "Oh *God*, Kon --"

In again, so slow, so *wet*, and Tim claws at his
own cape and tries to push up into it, but Kon
won't *let* him. He whimpers and bites his lip
and he thinks he might be shaking. And then he
definitely is, because Kon isn't teasing anymore.

He was *teasing*, that was just -- but now
Kon's fucking him like this, with his tongue,
holding him down and making him -- making
him -- "*Kon* --"

And Tim knows Kon's saying something, and
he's not even *whispering*, but everything's
drowned out by the *feel* of it, Kon's lips and
tongue moving against him, and it's nothing
he expected and nothing he'd ever thought
he'd *want*, and the cape is sticky and wet
under him with his own pre-come and --

"Kon, I can't --" Stop. Believe you want this.
"I -- *please* --"

"Come for me," Kon says, and his voice is low
and rough and breathless and he --

*In* again, stabbing him, fucking him,
*holding* him, grinding him down against his
own cape and Tim squeezes his eyes shut and
pants. He sounds like an animal. He sounds
like he's *dying*, and Tim feels himself
blushing and tries to say something, anything,
but the only thing that comes out is noise. One
moan after another after another, one for
every *push* of Kon's tongue, and every
moment that he can't think anything but 'Kon
wants this, wants me, Kon --'

Has him.

And Tim doesn't know what he'll do when
Kon lets go. "Please," he says, *again*, and Kon
groans and the vibration of it rolls right through
him.

And then Kon *kisses* him, and Tim comes
shaking.

Moaning when Kon lets go of one of his hips and
slides his hand between Tim's body and the
cape. Touching him and sliding through Tim's
come and giving his dick a squeeze that makes
him whimper.

"Tim..." And Kon's stroking his thigh again.

He feels sticky and sweaty and *used* and
there has to be a way he can get that not to
stop. "Yeah."

"Could you..." Kon squeezes his thigh and
moans quietly. "God. Just... turn over again.
On your back. Please?"

He does, and Kon's just... he'd never done up
his pants again. He's hard, and stroking
himself, and Tim's blushing so hard he's
*sweating*, and he doesn't know where to
look.

"*Fuck*, Tim."

Kon looks just as confused as he feels, only
hungrier. "I want..." Too many things to think,
let alone say. Tim sits up instead, and Kon
meets him halfway and *pulls* him up, kissing
him and still... God. Still jerking himself off
between them.

He doesn't have anything intelligent to say to
that, either. He settles for cupping Kon's face
and kissing him back, kissing him harder and
pressing as close he can. The brush of Kon's
knuckles against his stomach makes him
moan, or maybe it's just the fact that Kon
*tastes* like him.

Or maybe it's just the way that Kon isn't closing
his eyes.

The way Kon's *looking* at him, like he expects
Tim to disappear or something and he needs to
see absolutely everything, every *moment*
before he does.

Tim doesn't want to disappear, and he doesn't
know how to say *that*, either, especially since
it isn't really the point. He reaches between
them and... they're really too close for it to be
anything but awkward, but Kon whimpers into
his mouth when Tim's thumb brushes over the
head of his dick, so he just keeps doing that.

"Tim," Kon says, and it feels like a million
questions at once, and it feels soft and hot
and messy like the way Kon's dragging his
mouth over Tim's face before resting his
forehead against Tim's own and jerking
himself faster.

There are so many promises he wants to make,
but the only ones he *can* aren't good
enough. He strokes Kon's face and pushes in
closer so that Kon's knuckles move against his
stomach with almost bruising force. His fingers
are sticky with Kon's pre-come and he wants
more kisses. He wants them to be anywhere
but this stupid *roof*, or at least somewhere
that they won't have to stop soon.

He wants to suck his own fingers and he
wants to suck Kon again and he wants --

He digs the fingers of his free hand into the
muscle of Kon's shoulder and tries to regulate
the rhythm of his breathing, tries to inhale on
every one of Kon's exhales, and it sort of
works. He's not getting enough oxygen, and
he thinks the breathless, dazed feeling is
maybe close enough to whatever Kon's
feeling that makes him sound like that. Like
every moan hurts.

"I don't... want to come yet."

Tim presses harder on the head of Kon's dick with
his thumb.

Kon tenses and shakes. "Tim --"

"I want you to."

"I don't want to stop. I don't --"

"I'm not going anywhere," he says, before he can
stop himself, before he can *think*, and Kon
pulls back and *looks* at him, and he's supposed
to say he means it. He's supposed to be able to
*say* that -- "Kon --"

"Tonight," and Kon kisses him again, and pushes
them back down to the roof, and pulls their
hands out from between them, thrusting and
grinding *down* and not breaking the kiss for
long enough for Tim to catch more than short
gasps of air.

More than that. He wants *more* than that, but
it's easy to focus on just wrapping his legs
around Kon's waist and holding on, to swallow
every moan and *feel* Kon, hard against him
and clinging like maybe no one had taught him
how to hide.

He wants to learn how not to hide. *That's* the
point, only he should be able to do it and have
this, too. He clutches at Kon's short hair and
sucks hard on Kon's tongue and tries to say all of
it, as much of it as he can, and Kon doesn't stop
kissing him even after he comes.

Tim doesn't pull back until he can feel the blood
pounding in his ears.

It feels like getting away with something to gasp
like this with Kon watching. With Kon on and
*over* him, holding him down with nothing but his
weight.

"I'm not done," Kon says, and it's a completely
different tone of voice from before.

Tim knows he isn't talking about right now. And...
"I know."

Kon exhales hard against the skin of Tim's throat
and squeezes Tim's chest. "I... know you know.
But, Tim --"

Kon moans against the fingers Tim has pressed
to his mouth, and it takes a lot not to just... he
shakes it off as best he can. "It's okay --"

And Kon *growls* and moves to straddle him
again, one hand pressed to the center of Tim's
chest and the other cupping Tim's jaw. Making
him *look*. "It's not *okay*, Tim. We're not..."

He wonders what it feels like for Kon. If looking
at whatever's in Tim's eyes right now feels as...
as *big* as looking at what's in *Kon's* eyes.
He swallows.

"Tim... whatever else we are... we *are* friends.
And I'm not... you're not supposed to let friends
go."

He could say something about he *isn't*
planning on going anywhere, and it's actually
the truth. But it's also stupid and meaningless,
because a part of Tim can *feel* it. It.
Whatever *it* will be that finally breaks him
between his family and his family.

And it's painfully obvious that Kon can feel it,
too.

"I'm not. I don't know what to say."

Kon presses down on his chest, a little, and smiles
ruefully. "Yeah. I didn't think you would." And
then he rolls off and stands, and it shouldn't be
depressing to watch Kon pull his pants up.

There are so many things wrong with his priorities.
He shakes his head and fixes his own clothes,
wincing at the mess. The cape will hide most of
the problem, but... he's really definitely going to
have to do his own laundry this time.

And he needs to take a shower pretty much --

As soon as Kon stops kissing him. As soon as he
can convince his body not to react the way it
wants to the *force* of it, and the way Kon is
holding his head. Both hands in Tim's hair and
just...

The word 'possessive' comes to mind, with a
big, blinking question mark. He has no idea how
he feels about that -- no. He has way too
*many* ideas.

"Kon --"

"You're gonna remember that," he says, and it's
an order as much as everything else.

"I'm going to remember a lot of things."

Kon tightens his hands in his hair, and leans in
again, and Tim opens his mouth and Kon *licks*
him. "I love hearing you gasp like that."

"Kon."

"Yeah." He slides his hands out of Tim's hair,
down to his shoulders.

"I don't." He can look at the 's.' He can look
at Kon's throat, where he's still a little flushed,
where the skin is still a little shiny with sweat.
He can look Kon in the eye and just... "I don't
want you to stop touching me."

Kon blinks and squeezes his shoulders. "You
don't actually *want* us to make it inside, do you?"

"Well..." He smiles, more at Kon's shoulder than
anything else. "There are rooms in there. Flat
surfaces that probably won't draw blood."

Kon snorts, but there isn't much humor in it, not
even when he strokes his way down Tim's chest,
pushing the cape aside. "How much... how long
do we have?"

"I don't actually know yet."

Kon rubs his chest a little harder, frowning. "Part
of me thinks I should just fly us to some empty
island and keep you there for as long as I can."

It's a tempting image, the way a really good
dream is *good*, right up until you wake up and
realize none of it makes sense. "And the rest of
you?"

"The rest of me thinks..." He traces the 'R' on
Tim's tunic. "That I should just go with it, and
try not to think about the fact that you just
might not show up next weekend, or the
weekend after that. Christ. I can't even
imagine... your parents are going to *kill*
you, man."

Tim grins. "If I'm lucky."

Kon shakes his head. "You have to tell the
others what's going on."

"I know."

"I still can't believe you actually told *me*." And
Kon looks at him, and Tim keeps his head up
and lets him.

This is why I didn't say anything. This is who
you are to me. He watches Kon breathe and
doesn't say any of it any more than he already
has.

Kon shakes his head again and pulls back --
just far enough to put an arm around Tim's
shoulders.

Maybe that's the secret. Maybe all he had to
do was say it. The thought is no more
mind-boggling and embarrassing than everything
else. He leans into the touch and lets Kon lead
them back toward the roof access door.

"Yeah, so. I don't actually know what the fuck
I should be doing, Tim."

"Neither do I."

"Uh, huh. So you're winging it. Fucking on
rooftops, talking about your feelings... the
world's pretty much gonna end soon, right?"

"Maybe." Maybe mine. And there's no way in hell
he's going to say *that*.

Kon tightens the hold he has on Tim's
shoulders and stops in front of the door. "I'm
not letting you go, Tim."

Convince me. "Okay."

Kon opens the door with his free hand and
pushes Tim in front of him. And doesn't, actually,
let go of him for more than a few seconds at a
time. Sooner or later someone is going to ask
about that, especially if Kon keeps it up where
people can *see* them, but...

It's late, and the only sound in the Tower is
the hum of machinery and a handful of voices
in the TV room, and there's no one but them in
this hallway.

"I promise," Kon says, with casual assurance,
and rubs his thumb across the back of Tim's
neck just over his collar, over and over.

Tim pushes back against Kon's hand and works
on being convinced.

end.