Disclaimers: If they were mine, there'd be a lot of
goofy smiles.

Spoilers: Not a one.

Summary: Kon messes with his own head. Tim
is helpful.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: Just some random, pointless
schmoop. For Weirdness Magnet, who needs to
come home now.

Acknowledgments: To LC, Jack, and Livia for
audiencing.

*

He kind of feels stupid.

Which, well, pretty much all the *time*, but now
especially. Part of it's because he really thinks he
should've figured at least some of this out *way*
before now. Part of it's that he's sitting up in his
room at the Tower at three a.m. bitching at
himself instead of, you know, *doing* something
about it.

And it's fair, Kon guesses. It's not like he really
*blames* himself for not being all gung-ho about
having this conversation with Tim. Because...
well, one, he's pretty sure *no one* is ever
thrilled about going up to their best friend and
saying "hey, I think I'm kinda crushing on you,
do you think we could hump?" And two, it's
*Tim*. Frankly, Kon's always had the vague
urge to *practice* before talking to Tim about
pretty much... everything.

Because Tim's the smartest person he knows,
and he never wants to look like a *complete*
idiot in front of him, and Tim is always so...

And no, he's never really gotten used to the idea
that Tim actually *likes* being his friend, and he
keeps tripping over it. The way Tim doesn't
actually hesitate to hang out with him, or just
listen to him unless there's, like, crime to fight or
supervillains to analyze. And even then...

The smiles. The little...

And yes, he's an idiot, because he really
should've figured out that the fact that he *does*
keep tripping over it, the fact that it means this
much and gets him so twisted up in his own head
that he... has to go spend *more* time with Tim,
probably meant something. Means something.
Like this thing here, that he's not even thinking
about so much as driving himself *crazy* with.

Which, well. Maybe he's also *not* such an idiot,
because there's nothing like getting his head all
twisted up inside to *make* him get off his ass
and... go see Tim.

He's smart enough to psych himself out. Clark
will be *so* proud. Kon snorts quietly to himself
and flies through the halls -- slowly, so that he
doesn't rattle anything in his wake.

*Most* of the team is asleep, of course, which
means that even if he *couldn't* fly this path in
his sleep, all he has to do is look for the door
with the light spilling out from under it.

He wonders what it's like for Tim on his nights
off, when he goes back to that funky little
brownstone that Kon has maybe flown over once
or eight times and... yeah. He wonders if Tim
reads his crime journals and classified files with
a flashlight under the covers, or maybe just
calmly sits in the dark and... okay, that would
actually be kind of creepy.

In a very, very Tim way.

He knocks and hears papers moving around, and
"come on in, Kon."

Kon rolls his eyes and pushes in, landing and
shutting the door behind him. "And you knew it
was me *this* time, because...?"

Tim is scribbling something in a notebook, a
half-absent frown on his face. It's weird --
something about the angle or the act or whatever
kind of makes Kon's mind want to see the mask
as a simple pair of glasses. "No footsteps," he
says, and puts notebook and pen aside.

Kon crosses his arms. "Could've been Cassie."

Tim's face moves like he's raising his eyebrow
behind the mask. He's sitting up against the
headboard, pajama-clad legs bent in front of
him and looking... right.

Kon puts a smirk on his face. "Could've been
*Kory*."

Tim pulls a highlighter out of... somewhere
and wings it at Kon's head. "I didn't, actually,
need that image."

Kon catches it and tosses it vaguely toward
Tim's desk. "*Everyone* needs that image,
man." Even if he isn't sure which of them
he'd be perving on more.

And... it gets him his first smile of the night.
Head turned and small and he has about half
a dozen fantasies that start *just* like that,
where he turns Tim back around to face him
and kisses the corner of his mouth that's
tilted up, and he doesn't have to say anything
at all.

Which isn't actually happening, because it's
gone, and Tim's giving him an expectant look.
"Uh."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Yes. No. Uh." Crap. "Can I..." He waves at the
bed and feels himself starting to blush.
*Already*. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

Tim makes room for him without a word,
shifting until he's snugged back between the
headboard and the wall, facing Kon at an angle
and... hunh.

"Is that even comfortable?"

Tim shrugs. "What's up? Is it something..."
He's giving Kon the serious look.

"What... oh. No. It's nothing... like that. Uh."
Again, *crap*. He wants to get further on the
bed, so he can be facing Tim right back. He
absolutely doesn't want to do that. He needs
to stop staring at his own lap. His boots are
already off. He's --

"Kon?" Tim's hand is on his shoulder. Just
barely. It's kind of funny, actually. For
someone who can throw a punch the way Tim
can, when he's just *touching* you, you have
to reach for it. *Feel* for it, because he
doesn't... right, talking.

"I'm okay," Kon tries.

Tim snorts.

"No, really. I'm not... you know. Upset about
anything."

"Which is why you're glaring at your own
knees."

There's another smile in Tim's voice, and the
hand on Kon's shoulder presses harder for a
second before trailing down the back of his
arm and away again. Once upon a time, he's
pretty sure things like that could happen
without it making Kon's heart pound.

Without it making him wonder if he was right
about the fact that it didn't, really, happen with
other people, and if Tim was the kind of guy
who --

And really, fuck it. If it all goes badly, he can
always claim that he was being mind-controlled
by psychotic supervillains with... mind-control
powers. He turns around, getting a knee up on
the bed and watching Tim's bare foot shift just
a *little* before looking Tim right in the mask.

No, in the *eyes*, because the lenses are up.
Kon blinks. "When did you do that?"

Another tiny smile, this one kind of rueful. "I
didn't really mean to have them down. I just
usually wind up forgetting about them
unless..."

"Unless there's someone around who'd maybe
like to see your eyes?"

"Yeah," Tim says, and for a moment he almost
looks like he's searching Kon's face, and it
makes Kon want to be naked, and it makes Kon
think about the fact that Tim might not be
wearing anything under those pajamas.

"I like you," he says, much too fast and much
too random. It just falls out of his mouth and it
isn't even --

"I like you, too, Kon," and Tim looks like he's
thinking about laughing.

"No, I mean. I." *Like* you, like you, only he's
not a freaking twelve year old *girl*. "I. Uh.
*Crap*."

And now Tim looks *confused*, and that's just
terrifying. *Really* terrifying. Why, Kon
practically needs reassurance. He should
probably get closer to Tim and not think about the
way Tim isn't moving anymore. Even though Tim
could probably fold himself into, like, a little pocket
universe of stealth if he wanted to, he's not
moving. He's just... letting Kon get close.

He's on his knees and Tim's right *there*, he can
put his hands on Tim's knees, and cup them, and
feel the bony curve of them and he could maybe
push them apart a little.

Like this.

Just so he could get --

"Kon?"

Closer. Tim exhales, and Kon feels it on his
mouth. His breath smells like... some kind of
candy or something. Somewhere in this room,
there is -- or *was* -- candy. Which Tim ate,
possibly while plotting world domination, or
*whatever's* in that notebook. He can't wrap
his head around it, but he's trying. "I want to
kiss you."

Which is probably why he just said that. Using
up his brain power thinking about Tim eating
*candy* instead of paying *attention* to
important things.

Like the way Tim's mouth is open just a little
bit. Not enough for Kon to see anything but
shadow, until the tip of Tim's tongue slips out
and sweeps over the edge of his upper lip, and
Kon tightens his hands reflexively and feels
Tim's legs *tense*. He should probably say
something else, something reassuring or...
something.

"I want to kiss you," is what comes out.
*Again*, and no, really, that's pretty much all
he's got. "Tim."

Tim takes this long, shuddery breath, and
Kon's close enough that he can *see* it. The way
it moves his chest and the way his mouth opens
just a *little* wider and the way Tim doesn't even
seem to be *blinking*.

And he's *waiting* for Tim to say or do something
*definite*, something like 'don't' or maybe a
laugh or... *something*. But he's also just rubbing
Tim's knee with his right hand and cupping Tim's
face with his left. And he knows he hasn't exactly
*asked*, but he can't. He can't make himself do
it, because he can't stop himself from leaning in
those last few inches and --

The first touch of Tim's mouth against his own
makes him moan. Before it's even really a *kiss*
he's moaning, and then it's *definitely* a kiss,
because he can't keep himself from sliding his
hand into Tim's hair and tugging his head a little
to the side so he can make it deeper.

And the sound Tim makes isn't a moan or
anything; it's just small and muffled and Kon
thinks he wants to hear it again and *again*.
He licks Tim's tongue and tries to make it
good, tries to use a little of the *technique*
he's picked up since the days when he had an
agent who set him up to 'judge' beauty contests,
but none of them had ever...

He's used to other people kissing *him*, and
Tim is, but he's not... he's not in *control*. And
he hadn't actually thought that far. Or that
*clearly*, because it was hard to even imagine
it in more than a handful of hot, vivid images
that still pretty much have *nothing* on the feel
of Tim's mask against his cheek and Tim's hand
settling so, so lightly on Kon's throat.

He needs to breathe. "Oh God." Okay, he needs
to say that, and *then* breathe, and *look* at
Tim. His cheeks are flushed and the mask doesn't
shadow his eyes enough to hide how *wide*
they are. "Was that. Is this okay?"

Tim just looks at him for a long, long moment.

Say yes, he manages *not* to say by sheer force
of *will*, but it's okay, because Tim smiles at
him. And it's not a smirk, and it's not even all
that small. It's a slow, *happy* smile and it
makes Kon want to suck him off.

And then Tim strokes the side of Kon's neck
with his fingertips and Kon feels himself shiver
and Tim *stops*.

"Don't. I mean. Don't stop. You can... uh." Kon
tightens his hand on Tim's knee to keep from
pulling on his hair. "I want you."

Tim swallows, and Kon stares at his throat for
a second, and then longer, because it's just
Tim's neck, but it wouldn't take him long to list
all the times he's *seen* it.

"I --"

"What. I mean..." Tim swallows again, and
strokes Kon's neck again, rubbing over the
collar of his t-shirt. Not pulling at it, or slipping
under it, and Kon's not sure if he wants to tilt
his head back or just keep *looking* at Tim.

And he's not sure if he wants Tim to keep
searching his face or to stare at some other
part of him and -- just the *thought* makes
him gasp, and he grabs Tim's wrist before he
can stop himself.

"Kon. I." And Tim takes a deep breath, and
another, *steady* one, and *focuses* on him.
"What do you want... me to do?"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Tim --"

And the thing is, it's always a shock. Not that
Tim is kind of a little guy, but that he actually
*feels* like a little guy, that it isn't some kind
of an illusion him and Batman came up with to
make the bad guys underestimate Robin. His
hand fits around Tim's wrist easily, and it's
ridiculously easy to wrap his other arm around
Tim's waist and pull him *in*.

Hold Tim tight against his body and tug on
Tim's wrist until he wraps his arm around Kon's
neck and --

"Yeah, show me, Kon..."

"Fuck. *Fuck*, Tim," and he thinks that
grabbing Tim's thigh and pulling and moving it
until it's wrapped around his waist, until Tim's
leg is probably hanging *off* the bed, and
Tim's other thigh is between Kon's own -- he
thinks it's maybe the most obscene and
wonderful thing he's ever done in his *life*.

And the feeling lasts right up until he slides
his hand down under Tim's ass, and then it's
gone entirely, because Tim is kissing him
again, pushing forward and nudging at Kon's
hard-on with his thigh, sucking his tongue,
and apparently show-not-tell-time is over,
because he's *grinding* against Kon. Holding
him and kissing him and rubbing the back of
his neck and pushing between them to *pet*
his chest.

Kon groans into Tim's mouth and squeezes
his ass, and *bucks* because he's squeezing
Tim's *ass*, because Tim is kissing like he
has no intention of stopping anytime soon, like
maybe every breath will be an afterthought.

Like this one. Just a gasp before Tim says
"Kon," and rubs at his nipple until it's hard,
until Kon wants it to *hurt*, and then Tim is
kissing him again. Biting Kon's lip and, "we
can go. Pretty far."

And Kon's not sure if that's supposed to be a
warning or a suggestion, but. "I want to make
you come."

Tim makes a low, *sweet* sound and tightens
his arm around the back of Kon's neck. No,
*pulls* on his neck and... okay, definitely back
down. He cups the top of Tim's head with his
free hand and goes for it, and he really
shouldn't have bothered -- awkward angle or
not, Tim's head would've missed the wall by at
*least* two inches, even if his hand hadn't
been there.

And Tim is smiling -- no, *grinning* up at him,
like he knows exactly what Kon's thinking and
is amused that it isn't about the fact that Tim
is lean and hard and one, thin layer of cotton
away from *naked*.

And then, of course, it *is* about that. And
he knows Tim sees that, too. He can tell by
the way Tim's expression fades into something
serious and... really fucking hot. "Kon," he
says, and tilts his chin up a little.

'Kiss me again,' it sounds like. Feels like.
Something. It doesn't matter, because Kon
can't *not* catch Tim's next exhale in his
mouth and shift and move until he's pressed
as close as he can be. And he knows that he'll
*have* to move at least enough to let Tim
breathe, but Tim's making these *sounds*.
Hot little gasping moans, right into his
*mouth*, and he's cupping Kon's face and --

He likes it. He *likes* it. It's a stupid and
obvious thought and it may be the best one
Kon's ever *had*, because if Tim maybe wants
this as much as *he* does... Kon groans
around the feeling of something seizing
inside, against the twitch of his dick in his
jeans. Sucks Tim's tongue and grinds and
thinks about never stopping, about the way
Tim's hands are a little shaky on his face, now,
and the way he's kissing back just as hard.

Air. He has to let him *breathe*, but the best
he can manage is to pull back for just long
enough to get to Tim's long, slim naked throat
and --

"Kon... oh..."

And Tim's voice is hoarse and breathless and
so *quiet*, and he has a hot little scar that
feels the best kind of wrong on Kon's tongue.
Better when he sucks on it, and Tim rocks up
under him.

That lean, strong body. He could be touching
it. He could be *seeing* it. He hears himself
make an incoherent noise against Tim's skin
and bites his own lip, pushing up on his hands
and knees over Tim. *Over* him, and Tim's
rubbing the back of Kon's neck and his lips are
red and swollen and his eyes are closed.

Kon reaches for the collar of Tim's pajama top,
and vaguely remembers a time when buttons
didn't make him feel like a post-lobotomy
*idiot*. It would be easier with two hands, but
then he'd actually have to sit *up* on his
knees, and move further *away*, and he can't
do that.

He settles for very carefully not just ripping it
open and waiting for Tim to open his eyes
again.

The lamp and the mask throw weird shadows
over them, but Tim still looks... dazed. A little
open. "You want me to take it off," he says,
and it's not a question.

Kon nods and swallows and tries and fails to
force words out. The best he can manage is
a small, pathetic groan when Tim reaches out
and traces two fingers so fucking *lightly*
over the 'S' on his shirt.

"You, too."

And that's -- absolutely. He sits up on his knees
and tugs his shirt over his head, and Tim makes
this soft sighing noise that Kon only gets to
*see* the end of. He's unbuttoning his top in
fast little motions and *looking* at him, and
Kon reaches for the fly of his jeans and only
*just* manages to stop. "I... do you want me
to...?"

Finish a complete *sentence*, maybe, but Tim
says, "yes," and really just no. No more
complete sentences ever. Kon tugs open his
button-fly and *breathes* and has to close his
eyes because just getting this much closer to
naked with Tim feels so good.

But he can feel Tim *moving*, and eyes-closed
is something else that doesn't last. That *can't*
last, because Tim's arched up off the bed just
enough to push his pajama bottoms down and,
fuck, *hard*. "Jesus, Tim."

A half-second's smile, and Tim's down again,
one hand palm-down on his hip and... not
moving. Just looking like it *can* move, and
Kon's not sure why he's focusing on Tim's hand
when he can watch pre-come making the tip of
Tim's naked, *naked* dick all shiny and wet.

Kon groans again and shoves his jeans and
shorts down as far as he can, reflexively
grabbing himself and squeezing and then...

Stroking. Because Tim's watching him. Rubbing
his hip and *watching*, and moaning feels
nearly as good as the slide of his own hand.
Hearing *Tim* moan is even better, and
watching him get *harder* and.

"I... Tim --"

And he really was *planning* to say something
vaguely intelligent, or at least on-topic, but
Tim pushes up on one hand, abs tightening
and flexing, and Kon jerks himself faster
because he *has* to, and Tim's other hand is on his
face again, brushing across his mouth and over his
chin before Kon can do more than lick his fingertips.

"*Tim* --"

"You'll come on me," he says, and sits up further,
getting just close enough that Kon's knuckles brush
over his stomach on every upstroke, wrapping his
arm around Kon's neck again and setting his other
hand on Kon's hip and leaning *in*.

Close enough to --

"If you don't stop," Tim whispers against his
mouth and kisses him again, and Tim's hands
are rough and strong and *hard*, and the edges
of Tim's top are a light, hot tease on Kon's chest,
and it takes everything he *has* to pull out of
it.

"I can't -- Tim, I have to come --" On you. *On*
you --

"Do it," Tim says, and pushes his hand between
Kon's legs and *squeezes* his sac and --

"Fuck -- *fuck* yes --"

And Tim kisses him again, kisses him through
his orgasm and lets Kon shoot all over his chest
and stomach and Kon whimpers into Tim's
mouth and wonders if a life without *any*
active brain cells will really be so bad. Certainly
not if it involves more of Tim biting Kon's
mouth and panting.

"Jesus, Tim."

"That. Was really hot," he says, and there's a
shaky little laugh in his voice that makes more
of Kon's brain fall down and die. Tim's turned
on and laughing and... and *breathing* against
the corner of Kon's mouth, one hand still
cupping Kon's sac so gently it might kill him.

"Tim," and he has to stop *again*, because
talking makes his mouth move against Tim's
own.

"Yeah."

"You didn't come."

Tim exhales on a sigh and slips his hand from
between Kon's legs. "Not yet."

"How... I..." He can smell his own come and
he can smell *Tim*. He hasn't spent this much
time this *close* to Tim in... ever. Kon takes a
breath and forces himself to think. Or tries to,
and fails *again* because Tim is *nuzzling*
his cheek and scratching lightly at the back of
his neck.

"Kon... please."

Yes. "Jesus." It's the easiest thing in the world
to get his sticky hand stickier, pressing his
palm against the mess on Tim's stomach and
sliding it up, and one day he wants to spend
serious, *quality* time just feeling Tim up,
especially if the whole push-against-Kon's-
hands-and-moan thing isn't a fluke, but right
now he just has to wrap his wet hand around
Tim's dick.

Has to just -- *slick* Tim with his own come
and try not to moan too loudly, because Tim's
hot and *hard* and his whimpers are the best
thing Kon's ever heard.

"Like that?"

Tim kisses his jaw. Tim *bites* his jaw and
thrusts into Kon's fist and says, "please" again
and pants against his throat.

It feels good. It feels so fucking good and the
sounds are dirty and hot, *slick*, and he has
to *see*. He gets his free up onto Tim's shoulder
and pushes, squeezing and trying not to lose
rhythm when Tim lets out this moaning *growl*.

"*Kon* --"

"I'm not... I won't stop, I just --" He just can't
even *blink*, because holding Tim away from
him is torture, but now he can *see* him. The
sticky gleaming streaks of his own come all over
Tim's chest, and the way Tim's hands fall to his
sides and...

God. Head thrown back and hips *pumping*.

"Tim, you're so sexy, you're so --"

"Don't -- stop -- oh *God* --"

"Look at me. Just... please, Tim --" And he
jerks Tim faster, a little harder, and Tim looks
at him and his eyes are so --

So fucking *open*, and then there are hands
against his own, shaking and *touching* him,
but not actually holding on or guiding, and he
watches Tim's mouth fall open on a moan and
he watches Tim slide one of his hands up over
his own stomach, over the *come* on his
stomach --

"Oh *fuck*, Tim, you're gonna make me come
again --"

And Tim makes this loud *noise*, and bites his
lip fucking *viciously*, jerks and comes all
over Kon's fist and his own stomach. He's a
sticky fucking *mess* and Kon feels desperate
and jealous and *insane*.

He pushes Tim down, using the TK a little
until Tim's on his back again and Kon can
just cover him, rub himself over Tim --

"Kon --"

And then just rub himself *off*. And it's awkward
and messy, and then it's *perfect* and messy,
because Tim bends his legs up around Kon's
waist and pants against his ear.

"Do it, come on me again --"

He hears himself whining high in his throat and
braces himself on his elbows and whines more
when Tim just strokes his back and *squeezes*
him with his thighs.

"Oh, Kon, you're *fucking* me --"

And he *knows* he's being much too loud, but
Tim is under him, around him, and it could be
even *better* than this, but his body can't
imagine it. Kon can't do anything but thrust
and grind and, fuck, *yes*, come on Tim
again, hard and hot and...

"Kon," Tim says, and pets his hair, lying still
and quiet under him just like it's perfectly fine
that they're covered in come and that the
room reeks of sex. *Their* sex.

He thinks about trying to get Tim to come with
him back to *his* room.

He thinks about getting Tim to shower with
him.

He thinks about trying to convince the Kents
that they really *want* to move to Gotham and
he wonders how he's supposed to stop
touching Tim.

Tim strokes his buzz again, and then just cups
the back of his head. Lightly.

Kon moans, because it's the closest thing he
has to speech, and forces himself to roll off
Tim and onto his side. Tim shifts over closer
to the wall, and Kon thinks about giving him
space for nearly three whole seconds.

And then he just crowds Tim a little, resting his
hand on that slim, bony hip.

Tim's smile is narrow-eyed and knowing. Kon
kisses it, and Tim kisses him back, slow and wet,
one hand tracing Kon's collarbone until Kon
catches it with his own and squeezes.

"We have to shower," Tim says against his
mouth.

"Definitely," Kon says, and kisses him again.

Tim twists his hand in Kon's until he can squeeze
back and pulls out of the kiss. "And then we can
get filthy again."

Kon blinks and forces himself not to just hold
Tim against the wall and -- and not to do that.
They're still holding hands, and Tim is smirking
with his mouth and... doing something else
with his wide, open eyes.

Maybe the same thing Kon's doing.

He doesn't feel very stupid at all, just now.

end.