Deeds of rapt enthusiasts
by Te
October 20, 2011

Disclaimers: No one and nothing here is mine.

Spoilers/Timeline: Vague ones for older storylines. Takes place relatively early in an AU-ized Outsiders run.

Summary: Now is not the time to think.

Ratings Note/Warnings: Sexual content which dovetails with the content some readers may find to be disturbing.

Author's Note: A commission for Re White. I hope this works for you, chica! I definitely had fun writing it. Heh.

Acknowledgments: Much love to Mildred, Pixie, Melissa, and my Jack for audiencing, encouragement, and suggestions.

Length: 27,000 words.

*

Connor is a human being just like everyone else. This is what Roy tells himself after he's done being stunned and confused, because Connor had *stormed* in after a brief mission with Grace and Shift and slammed through HQ to his guest room without saying a word to anyone.

The fact that the last time Roy had seen him look even close to that angry --

The *only* time --

Well, it had been kids.

New York may not be as terrifying as *Gotham*, but it's still a city -- and he can ask.

He finds Grace in the her-sized bathroom Roy had had installed for her. She's checking out what looks like some choice road rash on her side -- damn, those are absolutely fragments of bra stuck in the wounds.

"Need me to get those... Grace, is that *lace*?"

She gives him a *mean* look --

And Roy puts up his hands. "You can wear lace. You can totally wear lace. *Do* you need me to get the tweezers?"

She looks even *meaner* for a second --

"What *happened* out there?"

And then she blinks. "Nothing. It was just some third-stringers with heavy weapons. The bazooka sent me through a wall, your brother shot the guy through both shoulders -- it was over in twenty minutes."

Roy does his own blinking -- "It was all clean-up?"

"Uh, huh," and Grace grabs the extra-long tweezers out of the cabinet and hands them to him. "The wall I went through was attached to the VIP wing of a hospital. You know how that shit goes."

"Politics, yeah." Had that pissed Connor off? He'll ask *after* he gets all the bra fragments out, because Grace is healing just fast enough that some of this crap might wind up *under* the new skin. She won't get an infection, but she'll itch like crazy and get *meaner*.

Grace sighs and reaches up to grip the shower rod that *Roy* can't reach without jumping --

Yeah, he'll do this fast.

"Everyone was good," she volunteers after a minute.

Roy nods and keeps working. There's something he *thought* was new muscle tissue, but it doesn't move like knitting flesh, and also it *shines* -- He catches it and tugs, and it turns out to be the remains of a pink satin... bow.

"Don't you say one fucking word."

"Wouldn't dream of it --"

"It was a motherfucking *corset*."

Roy blinks.

She gives him an *evil* look --

"Was it... nice?"

"Yes, it was fucking *nice*. I paid three hundred fucking *dollars* for it and I wanted to *wear* it today because Anissa was acting like it's too fucking *hard* for me to be femme --" Grace growls when Roy catches the remains of some boning with the tweezers --

"Sorry --"

"Just hurry the fuck up!"

That -- "Grace."

She glares.

He raises his eyebrows.

She glares *harder* --

Roy raises his eyebrows higher just like she *can't* fold him into something that could fit in the -- standard-sized -- wastebasket --

And Grace snorts and shakes some plaster dust out of her hair. "Sorry. The alarm went off *while* she had her face in my pussy."

"Aw, damn, you know I would've assigned Jade --"

"You needed muscle more than you needed finesse," she says, and sighs for the feel of her skin knitting up *just* after he tugs out the last bit of lace. "And you'll *both* fucking well make it up to me."

Roy waggles his eyebrows and looks hopeful --

And she snorts again and strips off her ripped-up pants -- no panties, and it's *not* a surprise -- before stepping into the shower. "She still says no threesome. You should try talking to her *without* hitting on her a few times."

"Can *you*?"

Grace grins, sharp and wide, and turns the water hot enough to boil a standard human. "*I* don't have to. Now get out so I can be a wussy about what you just did to me --"

"One question."

She raises her eyebrows. "Your brother was fine. Not as *fast* as you, but still plenty fast -- and he actually got the muckety-mucks to listen to what we needed them to do --"

"Faster than *I* would've, yeah, he's good at that. But he came in here like something fucked-up had happened?"

Grace shrugs and steps just a little too casually into the spray -- yeah, that was a tear he's pretending he didn't see. "Nothing I could see, Roy. He *was* a little quiet on the way back, but I just thought he was annoyed at the cops like me and Shift were."

Roy nods and frowns. "Okay, thanks, Grace."

"Uh, hunh," and she waves him off -- but laughs a little when he catches her huge hand and bites the heel of the palm. Just a little promise for whenever she wants a willing *cock* again.

Roy leaves the tweezers in the to-be-autoclaved bin and heads out. He asks Shift about Connor, but he doesn't know any more than Grace had. Then Shift asks about whether Connor will be joining them, and *that* --

God, Roy would do something *extremely* evil for that.

The fact that he has access to the JLA transporter --

The fact that he's ready, willing, and *able* to use the damned thing no matter *how* much it makes him worry about arriving in Star City with his liver in his skull and his brain flopping around where his cock used to be --

Connor is his *surprise* brother, the brother he hadn't even guessed he *could* have, the *wealth* he never guessed --

Roy smiles ruefully and shrugs. "Up to him."

Shift looks at him the way everyone else on the team has for that answer. It's the look that says they already *have* an archer *and* a martial artist -- even if Nightwing hasn't quite figured out that you're not supposed to work in three different cities at the same time. It's the look that asks Roy who *exactly* he thinks he's fooling -- but not in a mean or even a pissy way.

There's not a single person on this team who *doesn't* know how important good family is -- how important every *kind* of good family is. The fact that there also isn't a single person on the team who hasn't figured out that Roy would like to be a little more to Connor than *just* his brother and teammate --

Is a fact.

Heh. He's got nothing to be ashamed of.

Shift nods and pours himself into -- and over -- one of the less absorbent chairs in the break room. "Tell him I hope he feels better, hunh? He seems like a good guy."

Roy nods. "Absolutely -- and he absolutely is one of the best friends a guy could have."

Shift waggles what's either an eyebrow ridge or a section of well-trimmed lawn at him --

Roy salutes and goes --

And runs into Dick in the hallway to all the bedrooms. He's just standing there -- suited-up and staring at a note Anissa left on the wallboard asking if anyone had seen her extra work-boots -- no, he's not staring *at* anything. He's --

Roy sighs and wraps an arm around Dick's waist --

Dick shivers and frowns --

"Just me, 'mano."

"Yes, I -- what am I doing?"

"Sleeping. *Imminently*."

"No, not --"

"Yes," Roy says, and starts tugging Dick to his room --

"I have to --"

"Catch up, 'mano. You're lookin' a little too *hollow*."

"I --" And Dick's stomach interrupts them both --

Dick *winces* --

"Okay, let me get to the mess, Roy --"

"There's some snacks in my suite. And? A big, empty bed."

"Lian --"

"Won't be back from the Storytime Fair at the library until *after* you get a nap in. And she misses her Uncle Dickie."

That gets him a *ghostly* smile --

He's gotta encourage those, make them *stronger* -- "You got anything to say about that, 'mano?"

"I can't believe --" Jaw-cracking yawn -- "I can't believe you taught her to call me *that*."

"Well, technically, I taught her to call you Dick-eeeeeeee."

Dick snickers and yawns again --

And snickers more --

And stops fighting being dragged into Roy's suite even a little. Good deal.

Roy gives him a little push onto his bed, gets his boots off --

While Dick reaches down his pants and yanks out his tear-away jock. One day, Dick's actually going to do that in *front* of the big, scary, *pervy* guy who'd made it for him --

And then either there's going to be a brief, terrifying spar that ends in hardcore fucking on the Cave mats, or it'll turn out that Bruce *had* removed his tackle after Jason had died.

Either way, Questions Will Be Answered. Roy coughs a laugh --

"Mmm?"

"Nothing, 'mano, just thinking about your stripper-wear."

Dick flips him off, but doesn't say anything else, because he's found Roy's collection of trail-mix baggies. The chocolate chips, chocolate-chip cookie fragments, and chocolate-covered cashews didn't come standard to the mix, but he knows what it takes to get his baby girl to *also* eat all the other nuts and seeds and dried fruits, and he *also* knows what Dick *always* needs when he lures him into this suite.

Roy watches him eat for a minute --

Thinks about peeling him down a little more --

And then thinks about what *will* happen if Roy strips Dick even a *little* bit more: No more eating, and definitely no sleep. So. Roy leans in and kisses Dick's temple --

"Mmph?"

"Keep eating, 'mano. I gotta go check on Connor."

Eyebrows go up -- but Dick is still chewing. Good deal.

"He came in looking a little off after the mission -- which went *perfectly*, before you ask."

Dick frowns, but nods and keeps chewing -- swallows. "I haven't had a chance to *talk* to him --"

"Ever, pretty much," Roy says, and raises his eyebrows.

Dick winces. "I --"

"Nap first, 'mano. Put on your *best* face."

"I -- am not fighting you even a little bit. I can't actually remember --" Another jaw-cracking yawn -- yeah.

"I know, Dick. You know I do."

Dick smiles ruefully and finishes the baggie of trail mix -- and then tucks himself under the covers. "Okay?"

"Uh, huh --"

"Don't let me sleep through anything where --"

"You're needed. I won't, 'mano." And here's another great reason to *have* another world-class martial artist with JLA experience on tap --

"Could you --"

"Put on something a little mellow and sweet?"

Dick grins with his eyes closed --

And Roy takes just a moment to wonder what it says about *both* of them that neither of them had bothered to try to get Dick's mask off -- as opposed to flipping up the lenses. Roy files it under 'nothing they can do anything about' and heads over to the stereo. He puts on some Grateful Dead --

And Dick sighs and mutters something incomprehensible. He's already gone.

Roy grins and leans over to kiss his cheek --

Gets another mutter -- this one has something to do with margarine and rubber duckies, which may or may not have anything to do with the kinks of Short-Pants-the-Third --

He's really gotta get an *update* on that --

But, for now, he has to give himself a moment to sink into enough of a meditative state that he *can* stare at Dick sleeping without waking him up. Just --

How *often* had Bruce done just this...?

Does he still?

Would *Tim* be able to sleep through that?

Roy turns around and walks out as quietly as he can, giving it a little thought. On the one hand, Timothy Jackson Drake is a spook to the bone, and one of the single most *usefully* tense people Roy's ever met.

On the *other* hand, Roy would give himself Ollie's beard again if it turned out that Dick *wasn't* fucking the living hell put of Tim every chance he *gets* -- now that they're both *giving* themselves chances. There are *years* of fantasies to work through there, and Dick has never been the type of guy *not* to fuck until consciousness was a fond memory.

*That* may or may not come from losing his virginity to Clark-who-is-sometimes-Kal...

So maybe Roy isn't thinking about anyone else's sex life when he walks out the door and *smack* into Connor --

"Roy."

"Whoa -- hey. Were you looking for me?"

And the thing is -- Roy's not an idiot. He can *see* that there's something not right. Connor's eyes are glassy, his uniform isn't straight, he's *panting* a little --

And, at *any* other time Roy would be dragging him into his suite. But Connor's is right down the hall, and -- yeah. "Come with me?"

Connor stares at him a little more, frowns *mildly* --

Or, rather, mildly for anyone else. For Connor... Roy cups Connor's face -- a little warm, but not feverish -- "Tell me, bro. What's wrong?"

A deep breath --

A *shakier* deep breath, and something that looks a lot like *distress* --

And, before Roy can say anything else --

Connor is nuzzling his hand. Just -- rubbing up on it like *Kory* does, only Kory uses her teeth more. Connor --

Connor is using his lips, and that --

Roy licks his own lips and tries to --

But Connor had watched him do it. Connor *knows* --

Of course he knows --

"Roy. Please."

And, okay, his *cock* knows how to translate that in exactly *one* way, but it's *Connor*, and --

And it's an *impatient* Connor, because *Roy* isn't fast enough to keep himself from being slammed back against his own fucking door --

"Jesus, Connor -- *mmph* --"

The kiss is -- hard. Amateurish. *Heartfelt* --

Fuck, fuck --

Is this why he looked so off? Is this --

But this is not when he thinks, this is when he uses his other brain to cup both sides of Connor's face --

This is when he *shivers* for Connor's moan --

This is when Roy turns the kiss into something a little softer, a little slower and more appreciative, because Connor has to know he can have this whenever he fucking *wants*, anytime, *anywhere* --

Connor *groans* and pulls back --

"Hey --"

Connor starts tugging at Roy's *uniform*, right here in the *hall*, and Roy has less than no problem with that -- wait.

Wait.

Roy catches Connor's wrists --

Connor shivers and *fights* -- stops. *Stares*, hungry and needy and every --

Every little thing Roy has never *seen*, and yeah, Roy's about a minute and a half from being as hard as he *can* be in his jock --

"*Please*."

Or maybe more like thirty seconds, and --

No, no, he's thinking with his *big* head, because --

"This isn't you."

"I -- Roy. Please."

"Can you -- c'mon, talk to me --"

"I want your *bed*, your *scent* --"

"Fuck --"

And, okay, not expecting to be on the *floor* --

But he can damned well roll before Connor can pin him --

Scoot away from his catch and try to figure out if he's grateful or *not* for all the years sparring with Dick --

Catch and roll *him* -- too easily. *Much* too easily, and Roy doesn't know enough about *how* Connor gets horny to know if it's enough that he's trying to spread his legs, trying to arch, tossing his head -- no. He's rubbing the back of his head against the carpet like *it's* getting him off --

"I know this," Roy blurts --

"*Please* --"

"Connor, listen to me --"

"*Roy*. I *need* you --"

"You need the *antidote* to whatever the hell you were *exposed* to --"

"Dust. Strange -- there was a laboratory -- please *touch* me, Roy --"

Roy squeezes Connor's wrists --

Connor *bucks*, and Roy fights down everything, every possible --

"Let's get you to the infirmary --"

Connor growls -- and that's all the warning Roy gets before his pin just doesn't *exist* anymore. The strikes Connor's throwing won't *injure* him, but the fact is that Roy doesn't have this kind of speed for anything *but* the bow --

And yeah, he's on his back and the only thing keeping Connor's pin from being all but unbreakable is that he's more interesting in kissing Roy than in doing anything else -- or.

That's not true, is it?

He wants to be *touched*. He wants --

He'd come to Roy's *room* --

And maybe he'd be a better team leader if his plans were any better, overall, than 'let Connor make out with him until he gets distracted again.' *Dick* would have something else to do.

Dick probably knows a nerve-strike that could deflate an erection -- he has to survive out there *somehow* --

Roy laughs helplessly --

And Connor groans and *whimpers* -- "*Please*, Roy!"

Okay, not laughing, not -- "Let me go."

Connor squeezes Roy's wrists painfully hard, and, yeah, it's good to know that he has that kind of hand strength. Wonderful, really --

"You're so good, brother --"

"*Brother*," Connor says, moaning and *shaking* -- and squeezing harder.

Roy winces --

Connor *pants* -- "I can't -- I can't let you *go*."

"It's okay. It's okay. I -- I can't touch you this way --"

Connor grunts and *slams* their jocks together, and -- Jesus, Roy is *designed* to love that kind of pain, designed to *need* it --

They're both *wincing* --

And Roy's breathing isn't going to be even for all that long. Just --

Connor's lips look *bitten* --

And he's leaning in again. He's --

"*Connor*," Roy says, and the command voice makes Connor *shudder* --

But he doesn't pause until they're breathing each other's breath. He --

"Connor. Listen to me --"

"I need you, Roy. I've *always* needed you. Please," Connor says, and that was almost *conversational*, but mostly --

Mostly, it's a fucking *fantasy*, and it's *only* the jock keeping him from making an ass of himself --

*More* of one --

Connor is leaning *in* again --

"You want my mouth," Roy blurts --

"*Yes* --"

"I want yours, too. I want -- you know what I want, don't you?"

It makes Connor lean back a little, search Roy's eyes, lick his lips --

*His* eyes are a little lost and a lot *confused* --

And Roy is himself, which means that a *part* of him -- a very stupid and increasingly *slick* part of him -- is only regretting the fact that he hadn't been more *specific* any of the nineteen thousand times he's hit on Connor --

His *other* ridiculously beautiful brother --

"It's okay, Connor --"

"*Please*," he says, and squeezes *harder* --

"I want you. You *know* that --"

"Yes. *Yes* --"

"I want -- I wanna touch you. All *over* --"

"*Roy* --"

"I'll give you *anything*, brother --" And it takes about six tons of willpower he doesn't actually *own*, but Roy manages to turn away from Connor's kiss --

Connor whimpers and bites Roy's *cheek* --

"We have to find out --"

"They wouldn't let me *investigate*," Connor growls, and --

Okay. Okay. Secret lab in a hospital -- "Government types?"

"*Yes*. Roy, I *need* you --"

"Anything you want. Anything you need. But we have to --"

"*Later*, Roy, I need -- I can *smell* you!"

And God fucking help him, but Roy can smell Connor, too. Smell the oil he uses on the wooden bows *no one* can get him to stop practicing with, smell his sweat and the way it interacts with *his* leather --

*Brother*, and Roy has wanted this --

*Something* like this --

Connor is kissing and *nibbling* his cheek, licking Roy's stubble and panting, murmuring --

It's just 'please,' over and over and fucking *over* again -- "Let go, Connor."

"*Roy* --"

"Anything you *want*, I *promise*, but -- *ow* --" That was his *ear* --

"I watched Clark bite you here. You *shivered*," Connor says, and it sounds like an *accusation* --

"Yeah, I -- he does that --"

"You *let* him --"

"He's -- he's my dom -- *nnh* --"

Connor is sucking Roy's *earlobe*, making Roy wish for rings, scars, *something* -- he pulls back. "I don't know what that *means*."

God, fuck, *Connor* - "I'll show you. I -- I *promise* I'll show you -- "

And Connor lets go of Roy's right wrist and turns Roy to face him. If anything, Connor's eyes are even more --

There's hardly any *green* showing -- "It's okay, bro, I *promise* it's okay, but this isn't *you*."

Connor looks *mournful* --

And Roy reaches for his shoulder and squeezes hard --

And Connor groans and shudders, closes his eyes and *grinds* just like feeling Roy's own strength is making him --

Making him --

Roy scrambles out of what's left of the pin and stands while he still can --

And when Connor stands, he looks shaky, *weak* --

"Are you --"

"I feel -- there's no pain."

"Okay, good --"

"I'm... hungry," Connor says, covering his face with his hands and starting to rock --

"We -- we don't know what you were exposed to. I can't feed you, yet, brother --"

"I'm not hungry for food," Connor says, muffled by his hands but still clear enough --

And when he moves his hands, it's impossible not to see how blown his pupils are, how --

His hair is curling a little from *sweat* --

His smile is rueful and *gentle* -- and something like *focus* comes back into his eyes.

"I know. I know there's something wrong, Roy."

Roy blows out a breath and just -- copes. "Good, that's good, come *with* me --"

"Please. Your mouth..."

Don't ask don't ask -- "My mouth...?" Fuck --

Connor shudders and reaches out -- he touches the stubble *around* Roy's mouth before pressing on Roy's lips with shaking fingers --

His lips are parted --

And that's not the right focus, anymore. It's --

Damn it, *he* needs to focus -- "C'mon, Connor, stay with me --"

"It's what you want."

"Yeah, yes, that's exactly --"

"You want me... with you. You..." Connor licks his soft lips, his --

God, they're already swelling --

So *sensitive* --

"Connor, let's --"

"Even... the guest room." Connor licks his lips again and steps closer. "Do the other guest rooms have ferns and grow lights?"

Well -- no. "I --"

"Do they have mattresses hard enough to bruise, Roy?"

Fuck -- "You weren't supposed to --"

"Notice? No. No," Connor says, shaking his head and obviously *fighting* for focus, for the ability to stay *present* --

"It's okay, Connor, just come with me --"

"I'll go anywhere with you, Roy. I want. You *must* know that. Don't you?"

Roy does his own shivering, and just -- okay. If he just starts walking *toward* the infirmary --

"Yes. Yes, I'll follow you, Roy, but --"

"Connor --"

"You made a *space* for me --"

"I had to --"

"You don't know what that *means* --"

"*Connor* --"

"I can't -- I can't *think*, Roy, but I know what you taste like now, and I --" And Connor uses that speed to get close again, to cup Roy's shoulders --

Biceps --

Waist --

He moans when he cups Roy's hips, frowns and mutters and *whimpers* --

"C'mon, we've got some JLA-quality diagnostic --"

"Please," Connor says, and when he looks into Roy's eyes again, he looks as hollow as Dick had, as hungry and *desperate* --

"Does it hurt?"

"No -- no *pain* --"

"You know what I mean, brother. You --"

Connor laughs and groans -- and lets his head fall on Roy's shoulder. He --

Roy's not touching him, not *escalating* -- no, no, he can just cup Connor's shoulder and waist --

"Roy..."

He can keep walking them *back* --

"Roy, I've had this pain for so *long*," and Connor is breathing hot on Roy's neck through the suit --

Roy can't *feel* that enough --

And he can't let himself think about what Connor had just said, can't ever --

Connor wouldn't *do* this, and it's bad enough that he'd kissed, that --

Kissed that *mouth* --

"Roy..."

"I'm listening, brother, I promise," Roy says, and keeps walking them back --

Doesn't *stagger* when Connor kisses his throat through the suit --

Doesn't moan when Connor pants --

"Roy, please. Please tell me..."

"Anything -- whoa --" And Roy *is* fast enough to avoid hitting the wall when Connor throws him --

But isn't fast enough in *any* way, shape, or form to deal with the fact that Connor *knew* he would break and spin left --

And right into Connor's suite.

The ferns he'd hung from the ceiling are looking great.

The rugs -- all in those shades of rust and gold Connor likes so much -- are perfectly placed.

The bed looks like something Grace could use for a *mass*-murder weapon --

And Connor is closing the door.

And locking it.

And stalking *close* --

"Connor --"

He stops. He takes a deep and *hitching* breath. He looks like he's about to *cry* --

"Connor, it's okay --"

"It -- I can't control it, Roy," Connor says, and his voice is low and rough and *sad*.

"It --"

"I think. I think you'll have to tranquilize me. Or -- call the others?" And Connor flexes his fists and shudders, flexes his fists and moans --

"I don't *carry* tranqs --"

And Connor smiles wryly, because --

"You know that."

Connor nods and lets his smile get a little wider, even though it's shaking on his face a little.

"And -- you also know damned well that I won't risk you getting hurt by people who don't know your fighting style."

Connor *nods*.

And Roy takes a deep breath and pushes a hand back through his hair. Just --

He *has* a panic button implant. They *all* do, because it's just the smartest way to *do* things --

"Connor --" Roy shakes his head. "I'll risk it if I have to. I'm okay with you needing to deal with a broken arm for two months if it means I'm not *raping* you."

Connor nods, but he looks sad again, hungry and *lonely* --

"Oh -- brother, it's all *right*. We can do anything you want, anything at *all*, but we have to get you *sober* first --"

"Will you make love with -- with Dick?"

Roy blinks and wonders -- no, honesty. "Probably -- probably later tonight, yeah."

Connor nods again and looks away --

Walks to the door -- and lets Roy see his hand shaking on the knob. He doesn't unlock it. He *does* turn around and sit right down with his back to the door and his knees pulled up and his beautiful face in his beautiful fucking hands --

"Connor..."

"I think... I think there's something..." Connor swallows and looks up again. "I recognize the logic of what you're saying, of course."

"Good, that's really --"

"Last night, when I was masturbating, I built a fantasy of Dick fellating you --"

Roy grunts and takes a step back -- no. No. "It's -- you can tell me. Talking's fine --"

Connor stares at him --

Drinks him *in* --

And nods once. "It must... make it easier? I've never told you about my fantasies."

Roy takes a good, solid, deep breath. "No, you haven't. And -- I don't know if it makes it easier."

Another nod. "Would you... sit? I can't look at you standing without wanting to be on my knees."

Fuck --

Don't sit on the bed don't --

Roy backs up a little more and sits at the little desk he'd put in just in case Connor would want to stay a while --

He sits down, and his back is crawling a little --

His *balls* are crawling in that *exciting* way --

But, when he looks, Connor is still sitting by the door. It's just that he's gripping his knees now, and panting again --

Sweating enough that the uniform *has* to be uncomfortable --

Roy can get him *out* of that --

In *minutes* --

And Connor makes a sound, low and hurt --

"Fuck, Connor, is it getting worse?"

"It's only -- I'm so *hungry*, and I keep thinking that it can fade, that I can control it, that I can rise *above* --"

"You're *drugged* --"

"I know. I know you still smoke marijuana, and drink alcohol, from time to time."

"I -- yeah --"

"Do you make love to people when you're inebriated?"

Fuck -- "I -- a *lot*, but --"

"Even if it's the first time?"

"*Connor* --"

Connor holds up a shaking hand -- then spreads his legs and *grips* his crotch, and Roy knows exactly how that feels, how the armored jock that *had* been your best friend in the world can *become* your worst enemy --

"Connor, don't *hurt* yourself --"

"The pain -- helps," Connor says, squeezing harder and gritting his *teeth* before he lets go and stares at Roy again. His eyes are --

A little more of the green is showing.

Roy swallows and nods. "Okay. I'm here --"

"I miss you. When we're not together, I mean."

Roy takes another shaky breath. "I miss you, too, brother. Like *air*."

Connor nods and stares for a long moment -- and *keeps* staring. "You visit so much, but it's not enough. I want to be *with* you."

Fuck -- "Stay here with me. With all of us."

Connor laughs softly. "Just like that? So easily? I've been on one mission and managed to get myself *drugged*."

Roy smiles ruefully. "Hey, you've seen all the holes in me."

"So I have. I want to taste your scars, Roy."

"Oh -- yeah?"

"I want... is it strange? I honestly have no idea. There's rarely any way to *tell* which of the various offers I receive are perverse and which are... themselves."

"That -- heh. No, brother, there *is* a way to tell. Always."

"I -- yes?"

"Perverse is what weirds you out -- or makes you feel dirty in bad ways. Everything else is... everything else," Roy says, and raises his eyebrows.

Which gets Connor to raise one of his own, and --

"I gotta say -- I've *missed* that expression."

Connor hums -- and glitters at him. "You prefer my formality. My... is it the sense of the unattainable?"

Roy blinks -- "Uh. I don't -- I prefer *you*, Connor. Whatever feels right to you. Whatever feels *real* --"

"I've rarely felt more real than I did when you were kissing me. *Teaching* me," Connor says, and stands --

"Connor --"

"It's only. If I could have more of your scent..."

Roy shivers. "Sit back down."

Connor *glitters* at him --

And *that*... is the feel of his jock punishing him for being a red-blooded male of the species with the hottest brother on the *planet*. "Connor, please --"

"Yes. *Please*."

"I'll come closer," Roy says, and wonders if it's really --

If it's even remotely *safe* --

But Connor sits down with his back against the door --

And stretches out his long, powerful legs --

God, every bit of muscle, every scar he can't *see* --

"Roy..."

"I -- yeah," Roy says, and rolls the chair closer. Close enough, maybe --

Connor flares his nostrils and glitters at him a little more --

Yeah, close enough. Roy kicks the heel of Connor's left boot. "I'm serious about the perverse thing, brother."

"You do realize that you're guaranteeing that, when I do take a lover, I'll say or do at least one hopelessly bizarre thing per... encounter."

Roy snickers. "Yeah. *But* --"

"Roy."

"*But*... you'll be honest about it. I swear that's the most important thing," Roy says, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs.

Connor stares at Roy's thighs for a moment --

A *long* moment --

And then he nods and looks up again. "Would we be making love right now if I'd told you about my fantasies about you before?"

"I." Roy swallows. "I didn't -- I never guessed --"

"Please tell me."

"Connor, it's no good --"

"*Please*."

Fuck, fuck -- "Yeah. Yeah, we would be. We would've been making love *then* -- unless you weren't ready. Like you weren't ready last *night*, or you would've been in my room --"

"I stood in the hall outside your room."

"Oh -- fuck. Connor --"

"The suites are all soundproofed," Connor says, and manages to make a rueful smile look *heated*. "I hated you for that."

"I wasn't making love to *anyone* --"

"I couldn't hear what music you were listening to. I couldn't hear you *breathing*."

Roy winces and uncrosses his legs, grips his own knees -- "You know why I can't --"

"Believe me...? Yes," Connor says, and the sadness is back. "Do you understand fear, Roy?"

"I. I know a lot about fear, brother --"

"Do you understand..." Connor shakes his head. "I'm deathly afraid of being cured of this."

Roy blinks -- and then thinks about it. "You. You don't think you'll be able to hit on me again. I'll *make* the first move, I swear, I'm *good* at that --"

And Connor laughs --

*Sobs* --

"God, brother, it's *okay* --"

Connor bangs his head back against the door, and Roy lets him do it once --

Twice --

Roy moves and cups the back of Connor's head, rests his other hand on his chest, looks at him and --

"You look like *you're* begging, Roy."

"I -- maybe I am. *Talk* to me --"

"I'm afraid of saying no."

Roy opens his mouth -- and closes it again. "If -- if you're *not* ready --"

"I *want* you," Connor says, and there's anger in his voice, a shudder that goes right down to the bone --

"You -- *I* wasn't ready to start fucking until *years* after I started getting horny. And, to be honest? I wasn't all that ready when I *did* start fucking. Not -- not the way I did it, anyway," and Jilly-the-pro had refused the huge roll Ollie tried to hand her for taking care of Roy's virginity in *style* --

So they'd just made a habit of beating the shit out of every pimp who ever so much as got *close* to her stroll. *Repeatedly*, if the lessons didn't take --

And now she's got a house of her own, and only traumatizes teenaged boys -- in the best ways possible -- if she *feels* like it.

Roy shakes it off and focuses on Connor again --

And Connor is staring at his mouth --

And covering the hand Roy has on his chest with his own --

And breathing through *his* mouth --

"Stay with me, Connor --"

"I won't leave. I won't..." Connor looks up into Roy's eyes. "There is a pain..."

"Where, tell me --"

"Please kiss me again, Roy. Just -- surely you've kissed people without meaning to take things any farther? All sorts of... popular culture --"

"Oh -- fuck, who put you in front of a television?"

"Roy, I'm not *four*. I'm capable of putting *myself* in front of televisions."

"Yeah, but --"

"I wanted to see. I wanted..." And Connor leans in, letting his eyes slip closed --

Most of the *way* closed --

His breathing is so --

"*Connor* --"

"*Please*, Roy --"

"Let me take *care* of you. God, Ollie would *kill* me if I let anything happen to you --"

Connor groans and slams his head back --

But Roy damned well has his hand there. "Easy, c'mon, I -- look, I won't forget *any* of this, all right? I'll *remind* you of the things you've said --"

"And if I turn away from you?"

"I'll turn you *back* --"

"And if I beg you to *stop*?"

Roy rears back because he *has* to -- but Connor's hands are on his face --

Connor is moving up onto his knees --

Connor is close, so fucking *close* --

"I'm begging now, Roy. I'm -- you told me you'd do anything for me --"

"Connor, *please* --"

"If there can be... truth in wine --"

"If it *was* wine, then --"

"It would be all right...?"

Roy shakes his head --

But Connor raises his eyebrow, and Jesus. Fucking --

"You're worth more than that, brother. I *love* you --"

Connor groans and shuffles even closer on his knees, and his sweat smells salty, hot, *human* --

His mouth --

His swollen *mouth* --

"Connor, just --"

"I'm not supposed to *live* in this body, Roy, not truly. I'm not supposed to *listen* to it, to... to flow *with* it --"

"No, that's not --"

And the truth is that he could've moved, could've thrown up a hand, could've used his strength to hold Connor *back* --

It's just that the other truth is that he hadn't paid enough attention to the other kisses, hadn't --

He'd made Connor feel *real* --

The other, other truth is that he wants to do it again, that he *is* doing it again, clawing a little at Connor's scalp until he can grip the back of his neck --

Connor *gasps* --

And Roy slips his tongue in, kisses harder, makes love, makes *love* --

Because Connor is beautiful, and Roy *has* ended nights with 'just' kisses. The fact that it's been years since that happened *without* everyone being exhausted and/or needed for a mission --

The fact that he's pulling Connor closer, feeling Connor spreading his legs so he can straddle Roy's thighs --

So he can kneel up and kiss *down* into Roy's mouth, rub Roy's ears and tug his hair --

Suck Roy's *tongue* --

Roy shudders --

And Connor's grip on him turns painful, convulsive, and Roy knows that *Connor* knows that Roy was thinking of pulling back, cutting this *off* --

And it doesn't help anything to wrap his free arm around Connor's waist --

Except that it makes Connor cry out, turn away --

Reprieve?

But he hasn't even gotten that question *solidified* in his mind before Connor is nuzzling his cheek, dragging his mouth against Roy's stubble, moaning and --

Shaking. All over. *Constantly*, and a part of Roy just wants to hold him down, hold him still, make the shaking *stop* --

And maybe that's why he's holding Connor tighter --

"*Yes* -- oh -- "

Kissing him, just kissing him, because Connor's mouth was made for it, because it's *better* than letting him suffer, you never let your brother *suffer* --

Even if sometimes your brother feels the need to *slam* you to the floor and feed on you, kiss you, bite your throat hard enough that the uniform doesn't *matter* --

Almost doesn't matter, and what would it do to Connor if Roy's *Kryptonian* collar was showing right now? Kal had left it *under* Roy's skin last time, but --  "*Connor* --"

And Connor nods and kneels up, drags Roy's hands to his mouth and kisses them, licks them, sucks three of Roy's fingers into his mouth and groans like it's hurting him, *killing* him --

And cries out when Roy starts to thrust --

Cries out *loud*, over and *over* --

*Fuck* -- "I've got you, brother. I won't --" What, exactly? What won't he do? "I won't leave you hanging," Roy says, and pulls out --

"No -- *please* --"

"Shh, shh, I --" Roy shakes his head and reaches for the laces on Connor's pants, and tries to figure out what it means that this is easy, that he knows how to get *into* his little brother's pants even when both of them are losing their minds --

Even when Connor is stroking Roy's hands and panting, arching --

Shoving his *own* fingers into his mouth and *biting* --

In, and the jock doesn't tear away, but Roy can damned well make Connor kneel up so he can shove everything down, out of the way --

Fuck, his cock is so *dark* --

He's never seen Connor *hard*, and this --

He's getting harder by the second --

He's twitching and slick, shining under the grow-lights and getting just a little longer. Roy licks his lips and moves, because he needs that in his mouth, needs the feel of his brother getting bigger *in* him, *for* him --

Muffled scream --

Another --

And a *strangled* gasp when Roy swallows Connor down, when he takes him in and just --

"*Roy* --"

And that's not muffled, at all, which means --

God, yeah, spit-slick fingers in his hair --

Gripping *hard* --

"Oh -- oh, your *mouth* --"

Did you dream of it, brother? Did you *want* --

"Wanted -- I need your *hands* --"

Not yet, God, fuck -- but. Roy grips Connor's *ass*, rubs that sleek, hot skin with his calluses --

Connor *bucks*, grunts -- "I'm -- sorry -- *Roy* --"

Roy shakes his head and pulls back enough that he can work his head fast and *hard* --

Connor *shouts* --

Roy pulls back a little more and sucks just the head, hard and heavy, slapping at the slit with his tongue and wishing he *had* gotten it pierced at some point --

Any point before *this*, because Connor tastes like salt and sex, smells sweet and hot and male --

Feels heavy on Roy's *tongue* --

And Connor shouts again, cries *out* --

And then that cock is in Roy's throat again, because *some* of Roy's reflexes are just as fast as Connor's. It's still enough to make him feel a little bruised, but God, fuck, he'll take it, he'll take *everything* --

"Please -- *please* --"

He'll touch his little brother everywhere, make him *see* --

But he's still blushing when he pushes two fingers between Connor's cheeks, still --

He wasn't going to *do* this --

"*Roy* -- oh -- oh, *please* --"

Nothing heavy, no *pressure* --

Nothing to make those sobs sound anything but right, anything but *perfectly* hungry as Roy sucks that twitching cock --

As Roy *scratches* Connor's right cheek --

"I need you so *badly*!"

And Roy rubs that hole *roughly*, and it's tight and small and clenching --

Connor *screams* --

And fucks Roy's throat like it's trying to get *away* -- no, not that, nothing like --

Connor needs this right now, and even if he never needs it again --

Never *wants* --

Roy shudders and *begs*. Gods, the universe, his own needy *cock* --

Anyone, just anyone, because this won't last long enough --

And Connor grips Roy's scalp hard enough to bruise it, screams again and *slams* in -- comes.

Shot after shot after shot --

Right down Roy's *throat* -- and Roy doesn't even try to pull back enough to taste. That's not gonna happen this time, and he --

He can live with that.

He holds on and waits, rubbing Connor with the flat of his tongue and moving his hands back to Connor's hips. Just --

A little while longer.

Connor's moaning so *sweet* --

A little while longer not to *think* --

God, he's *drugged* --

He'd said he was afraid --

Fuck, fuck, *fuck* --

Connor moans again --

Shudders --

"Oh... oh... dear."

Roy blinks. That wasn't --

Connor tightens his grip on Roy's scalp -- and loosens it again. And -- "Roy...?"

Oh... fuck. Roy *moves*, letting go and pulling back until he can meet Connor's eyes --

Connor's *confused* eyes --

"Oh -- God. Connor, are you --"

"I'm all right -- I. Ah." And Connor blinks rapidly --

Stares at Roy's *mouth* --

Reaches down to *cover* himself --

Roy squeezes his eyes shut and thinks about stabbing himself somewhere serious --

"Roy, I... I don't know what to say..."

*God* -- no, cope, *cope*. Roy opens his eyes and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand --

Connor *stares* at his hand and shivers --

"I'm sorry -- I'm -- there's nothing I can say --"

"You -- Roy, why are *you* sorry?"

"Because -- because I needed to have more control than that. Because you're worth more -- fuck, *are* you feeling better?"

"Better... ah. I feel somewhat..." Connor stares down at his own crotch -- moves his hand. "I'm looking... at your *saliva*."

"Connor, I'm so *sorry* --"

"You *fellated* me."

"Just -- tell me what you need, brother, because I swear to *God*, you can have it, whatever it is --" But Roy's stopped by the look in Connor's eyes, so wide and shocked --

So --

God, he looks like he doesn't know whether he wants to laugh or *break* -- "Connor..."

"The things... everything I said to you..."

Roy winces. His heart is pounding and he's just --

It's getting harder to *think*, and, God help him, *most* of that is the fact that he can still taste his brother's *cock*, that if Connor had let up for even a second he'd be tasting his *come*, that Connor hadn't been *able* to let up --

Connor winces and turns away --

"*Please*," Roy says, and reaches out with his clean hand --

His *mostly* clean hand --

God, *fuck* --

"Roy..."

"I'm listening. I'm --"

"I don't know what to do."

"Do. Do you need me to leave? To -- fuck, I'll have Shift fly you out -- or you could use the transporter --"

"*Roy*, just -- stop. For a moment, please," and Connor covers his face with his hands -- and gets his breathing under control so fast and easily that Roy feels like a fucking *bellows*.

A *sweating* bellows --

God, he can't *breathe* --

"I -- Roy, I feel..." Connor shakes his head, drops his hands to his thighs, and smiles at him ruefully. "I feel better now, and entirely like myself."

"That's -- that's good --"

"Is it? I can't wrap my *mind* around the things I said to you --"

"We never have to talk about it -- but you *should* talk about it. With someone. With -- uh. Tim, maybe?"

Connor snorts quietly. "Oh, yes. He *does* now have a great deal of experience with making love to one's *sibling*."

Roy winces and shudders --

"Roy? Oh, Roy, *I'm* sorry. I put you in an impossible situation --"

"It wasn't your fault --"

"Was it yours when I locked you in here and gave you a choice between making love with me and calling in your team to beat me unconscious?" Connor laughs and reaches out to touch Roy's face with his fingertips.

"Connor --"

"I... what *is* the protocol for this? *Is* there one? You'd mentioned... ah... similar things?"

Roy bites his lip and tries --

He gives up and covers the hand Connor has on his face with his own --

Connor's *lips* part --

And Roy groans, loud and -- loud --

"Oh... Roy. You're aroused --"

"I'm sorry --"

"I -- I *aroused* you --"

"It's just --"

"Is this..." Connor swallows and stares into his eyes --

*Searches* his eyes --

And then frowns down at Roy's crotch. He --

Roy opens his mouth to say that he can get out of here -- and then realizes that he can't say a word. That --

He's *hot*, and there's something like a *knot* at the back of his neck, a burn in his hands that needs to be cooled with *skin* --

His mouth is dry and he knows what would make it *wetter*, and he hasn't felt like this --

It's not the way --

Oh, fuck. Oh --

"Roy... ah. Are you... affected?"

Roy *wants* to laugh for that -- wants it *badly* -- but, in the end, he wants this more: Connor's dark, callused hand between Roy's. Connor's twitching fingers on his cheek, his mouth, his *tongue* --

Connor *groans* --

And Roy sucks hard, closes his eyes and makes Connor fuck his mouth, makes Connor *give* it to him because he hasn't had enough, because there couldn't *be* enough --

"Roy, I'm so sorry --"

Roy whimpers and shakes his head, sucks those fingers *deeper* --

"I'm -- I'm a *coward*," Connor says, and his laugh is loud and fucking *cracked* --

Roy pulls Connor's fingers out of his mouth -- "Don't talk like that," he says, and his voice sounds like --

"Was that -- that *wasn't* your command voice --"

Roy growls because he *has* to -- "It's my other command voice."

Connor frowns in confusion, but he's smart, he's *brilliant* --

"You know what I mean, brother."

"You --" Connor swallows and stares, looking *intimidated* --

Roy can *work* with intimidated. "I know what you want now. Some of it."

"Roy --"

"Tell me the rest," Roy says, shifting his grip until he's got a thumb on Connor's pulse and the kind of grip you have to *work* to break.

"I... Roy?"

"Tell me. The rest." And Roy cups Connor's face with his other hand, strokes Connor's mouth --

His pretty, perfect *mouth* --

"Don't make me wait."

Connor makes a soft sound -- and his eyes are wide again. "You're affected."

"Uh, huh. But that doesn't really matter, does it? You already knew what *I* wanted."

"Roy --"

"Are you gonna fight me, brother? Are you gonna make me work for what we *both* want?"

And Connor gasps and stares at him, and yeah, *most* of the green is back in his eyes --

His beautiful eyes --

It won't last. Not if Roy does this right -- and he really, really will.

Roy stands and yanks until Connor is standing, too, until they can look at each other, see each other -- "Touching you makes the pain go away, brother. I always knew it would."

"Oh -- Roy, you -- should I --"

"You should tell me what you want, brother. You should..." Roy licks his lips. "Be *detailed*."

And Connor *tries* to look down, to turn away --

Roy's not letting him. "We both know you're blushing."

"Roy. Roy, you don't want --"

"Shh. I want *you*. I've wanted you from day *one*, brother. Your mouth, your hands, your ass..." Roy licks his lips. "I've had your cock in my mouth now. Had it in my throat."

"I couldn't -- I needed --"

"You needed *me*... and I'm right here. And I'll *be* right here for just as long as you need me... and for a while after that, too."

And now Connor's panting --

Roy can work with that, too. Roy steps closer and nuzzles Connor's mouth, his chin -- "We both know you like this. My stubble on your sweet, smooth skin..."

"I -- *sweet*?"

Roy laughs -- and surprises himself with a groan, the *need* to stagger --

"Roy?"

He shakes himself like a *dog* -- "Need you, bro. Need you *bad*."

More panting -- "I --"

"Kiss me."

"Roy... please --"

Roy darts in -- and licks Connor's mouth, slow and *wet* --

"*Oh* --"

"I'll give you better things to beg for, Connor. I promise. Now kiss me."

Connor blows out a breath -- and does it, soft, gentle, *hesitant* --

"Not like that."

"Roy -- "

"I know you know how to kiss me, brother. You already *showed* me that."

Connor swallows, shivers all over --

And it's like being triggered, yanked along a path he'd wanted to follow *anyway*, because Roy is shuddering and growling now, sweating and *panting* --

"Oh, let me take *you* to the infirmary --"

Roy coughs a laugh. "You had something to say about that --"

"I'm *worried* about you --"

"I know, because you love me."

"Yes -- oh -- very *much*, Roy --"

"But you're also scared right now, Connor," and Roy squeezes Connor's wrist *firmly* --

And Connor grunts, searches him --

His eyes are still so *wide* -- "We both know I can't hurt you. Not like this."

"You *can* --"

"You know more nerve-strikes than I know *phone* numbers, brother --"

"I'm not talking about *nerve*-strikes, Roy, you --" Connor growls softly and shakes his head. "You know -- can you even be *gentle* like this?"

Oh -- Roy sucks in a breath and tries to --

If he can focus --

He hasn't *been* focusing, as opposed to pushing --

*Shoving* --

"And now you look confused and *worried* -- oh, Roy, you don't know how *sorry* --"

"I *need* you," Roy says, and he didn't mean to let it out of his mouth --

He didn't know it was *close* --

He lets go with both hands and steps back, covering his face and dropping into a crouch. Just --

Give Connor space.

Give him time to do the things Roy *can't* right now --

To at least get *away* --

Except that Connor is *behind* him with his hands on Roy's shoulders --

He needs to feel those on *skin* again. He -- "Connor --"

"Roy, let me --"

"You should -- get the others --"

Connor chokes. "All right, now I feel guilty for having less control than *you* do."

Roy tries a laugh and winds up moaning, rocking on his heels --

"Oh, Roy. You... it helped when you spoke to me. When... and I..." And Connor tugs Roy's hand away and strokes Roy's cheek with two fingers, up and down and up again --

Roy shudders again. "I'm pretty much never gonna be clean-shaven around you again, brother."

Connor laughs. "I think Lian would have something to say about that."

"Okay, I'll shave *one* cheek."

Another laugh -- and Connor crouches next to him -- "It's only. Your stubble looks far more scratchy and uncomfortable than it actually is. There is... softness."

"I -- you like that."

"Very much. Even as it... drives me. I wanted you to rub me... raw."

Oh -- fuck. Roy rolls down onto his knees --

And Connor sighs. "You... I'm a coward --"

"*Don't* --"

"I *must*. Because a part of me is only insisting that speaking of this is all right --"

"It *is* --"

"Because you might not *remember*."

Roy winces and turns to look at Connor, to -- just to *see* --

And Connor smiles ruefully. "There is... so very much fear. But if I lie to myself in order to be honest... is that bravery? Could it be?"

"You can tell me *anything* --"

"Your *mouth* -- I think of kissing you -- no. I think of you kissing me, over and over --"

And it's not a thought, or even a reflex. It's just the *need* to get Connor's hand back on his mouth, get his fingers close enough to lick, to kiss --

Make him *groan* -- "Oh -- it's *ridiculous* to still be this aroused --"

Roy -- wasn't expecting to snort --

"I do like that noise, even when I know full well -- but I'll keep talking?"

Roy bites Connor's wrist and nods, presses his tongue to his pulse point --

"I... I try perusing... pornography..."

God -- but Connor is staring at the floor. That's --

Roy turns enough to touch his face again, make him *look* --

His pants and briefs are still around his *thighs*, and his cock --

Connor laughs breathlessly. "I'm not -- how can I say no?"

Roy frowns and shakes his head, tries -- "I don't -- I don't have the words right now, but --"

"That's wrong? No, of course that's wrong. I'm not -- I'm not a *complete* fool -- "

"Connor --"

"It's not *you*. It's never *you* in the pornography, or any of the other people -- *please* stop looking that excited -- "

Roy raises his *eyebrows* --

And they laugh together, rough and *needy*, but still good, still close, still *brothers* --

"Roy, I *need* you --"

"You can *have* me --"

"Let me -- may I touch you?"

And there's a part of him which only wants to balk a little, to point out that there's *nothing* there about mutuality, about both of them getting what they need -- "Please," Roy says, because he has to, because there's no way *around* this need, this fucking *burn* --

And Connor's hands are as quick on Roy's laces as Roy's were on his --

Connor is rubbing his *jock* --

"I -- of course I realize this is ridiculous --"

"Please --"

"I can feel your *heat*, and I -- you can tell I'm blushing --"

"*Brother* --"

The kiss is hard, wet, *wild* -- and *exactly* like the one he'd taught Connor in the hall except that it's faster, hungrier, more *desperate* --

Roy can't tell which of them is *making* it that way, but he knows he can't stop --

But he's shouting into Connor's mouth --

And those are martial-artist *and* archer calluses on his cock, stroking and examining --

*Studying* the ladder --

And they're breathing each other's breath more than they're kissing now, and Roy can *feel* Connor looking at him, studying him this way, *too* --

Roy can't open his eyes, can't do anything but ball his hands into fists to keep from gripping, forcing, *taking* --

Connor wants *gentle* -- doesn't he?

Wouldn't he?

"Roy...?"

"Connor. I..." Roy shakes his head --

"Please look at me," he says, and his voice is soft and low as he wraps his hand around Roy --

As he *squeezes* --

"Oh -- is that -- your *piercings* --"

"It's good," Roy blurts before Connor can ease his grip, before he can move -- "I need --"

"I need your *eyes*."

And so Roy opens them and tries to focus, tries to --

No, he stares into Connor's eyes and begs with his own --

Pleads --

"Oh, *Roy* --" And the kiss is soft, but not all that careful. It's --

It's more *slow* than soft, like Connor wants to take his time, wants to *feel* --

And yeah, he's nuzzling again, *abusing* himself with Roy's stubble as he squeezes *rhythmically* -- "You're so beautiful," he says, and *licks* Roy's stubble --

Shudders and squeezes *harder* --

Roy *whines* --

"Oh -- is that good? Should I --"

"Tease, it's --"

"Do you want --"

"Any other *time*," Roy says, and that's more of a sob than a laugh, but the thought has to count, *has* to --

"Tell me how to *stroke* you --"

"Hard, so -- oh, *fuck*, Connor --"

"You -- you *said* --"

"Don't *stop*," and Roy can't keep his hands fisted when Connor shuffles closer. Just -- one hand on Connor's shoulder and the other on his wrist, his *working* wrist --

"Oh -- I'm -- I'm stroking you --"

Roy groans and nods, shudders and *needs* --

"It's only -- I want you in my *mouth* --"

"*Connor* --"

"I *know* that's what -- *everyone* wants that --"

"You can't, you --"

"Yes, I'll *contaminate* myself again, but --" Connor leans in and *bites* Roy's lip --

"Fuck --"

"That's the *only* reason I'm not -- do you understand?"

Roy nods and squeezes with both hands, feels himself twitch in Connor's hand and groans, *needs* --

"I think of *your* hands. You touch me so *much*, Roy, and it's not so difficult to imagine the touches other places --"

"Connor -- oh, fuck, *please* --"

"It felt so *good* when you were touching my -- ah -- well --"

And they're laughing together again, but the fever in Roy makes it impossible for Roy to keep it up, to do anything but growl and *pump* into Connor's fist --

*Fuck* his fist --

"I -- you can *make* me brave, Roy --"

"*Brother* --"

"Or -- perhaps it can be greed, can be --" Connor growls again and kisses Roy, sucks Roy's lips, bites and -- nuzzles his cheek --

"God, *Connor* --"

"I'm sorry, I'm very -- I've thought of your stubble on my *thighs* --"

"*Hnh* --"

"Oh, *Roy* --"

"Faster, please *faster* --"

"*Yes*," and Connor gives it to him faster *and* harder, and that --

Roy can't stop *squeezing*, and he *knows* he's grinding Connor's wrist-bones together a little but --

"Please, Roy, please *show* me --"

And the burn in him --

The need that does and *doesn't* have anything to do with his cock getting stripped, getting *loved* -- but --

"Tell me, tell me everything --"

"I want you *inside* me, Roy --"

And Roy *knows* his eyes are open --

Knows he should be able to fucking see --

Breathe-think-*say* something --

But opening his mouth just leads to him shouting, *clawing* at Connor's shoulder and *grinding* his poor wrist --

"*Yes*, Roy --"

And there's *pain* for a moment, real *pain*, like maybe somebody jabbed him in the spine with a hot poker --

But all it does is make him scream for his brother, for his hand, for the fact that he's not gonna forget *any* of this, and --

God, fuck, *yes* --

"Oh -- all over my *hand*, I --" And Connor pushes Roy's cock *down* --

And Roy opens his eyes just in time to see himself come all over *Connor's* cock --  "*Connor* --"

"It's just -- a fantasy --"

Roy grunts and shoots off again --

*Again* --

He's shuddering and -- breathing.

*Feeling* himself --

"This -- it's what I *mean*. *Is* this perverse? Pornography is so -- it's marketed to *extremes* --"

Roy lets go of Connor's shoulder -- he *can't* let go of his wrist, yet -- and holds up his hand --

"Oh -- of course. I'm sorry --"

Roy nods and just -- no. He wraps his hand around Connor's and *makes* him squeeze *hard* --

"Oh, Roy..."

And that -- is enough to let him breathe a little.

Open his eyes.

Take a little *stock* --

And stare into Connor's eyes and find -- want. Patience. Ruefulness. Tension. *Curiosity* --

"Ask, brother."

"I -- I can *tell* you're feeling better --"

Roy laughs and grins. "Well -- yeah. But?"

"Ah... I still have my hand --"

"Wrapped tight around me. You could think of it as keeping me warm...?"

Connor snorts and loses a good three-quarters of the tension just like that. "Roy."

"You've gotta go with the idea that we live in a brave new world where just about everyone in this country has access to *some* kind of porn, brother -- whether or not they *want* it. The definition of 'perverse' is shifting accordingly."

Connor frowns. "That's -- a frustrating answer."

"Did you like me coming on you?"

Connor *starts* to look away -- but then just keeps meeting Roy's eyes. "Yes. A great deal."

Roy licks his lips. "Then let's do it all the time," Roy says, and he *tries* to keep his voice light --

But the way Connor narrows his eyes says he hadn't managed that.

Roy shakes his head. "I'm --"

"No -- don't."

"Connor?"

"I need --" Connor blows out a breath. "We should -- get checked out --"

"What do you need?"

Connor looks at him, opens his mouth --

"I can always tell when you're blushing under the skin --"

"It's *infuriating* --"

"It's *useful*. And *extremely* inspiring. Tell me what you need."

Connor sucks in a breath -- and laughs quietly and *seriously*, shaking his head --

"Hey, are any of the voices in your *head* useful?"

Connor *stops* laughing -- and burns at him a little.

"Oh... brother. You know I wanna do *everything* you want, right?"

"You don't *know* --"

"*I* am kinky. And perverted. And *extremely* open-minded. I will tell you *everything* I've gotten up to with *everyone* --"

"You -- have to keep *secrets* --"

"*Not* from you, brother. Not *ever* from you," Roy says, rolling his head on his neck and releasing Connor's wrist --

"I -- don't think I was ready for that."

Oh -- yeah. Roy grips Connor's wrist again. "Ever wanna be held down?"

"God, Roy --"

"You're rock hard, brother. Do you *want* to walk through HQ like that?"

"Not... particularly --"

"I'd say about a third of the people I've hooked up with over the years liked a little rough stuff. Sometimes *very* little -- like this," and Roy squeezes Connor's wrist again, "and sometimes more than that. It's not strange."

Connor licks his lips --

"Your mouth is..." Roy shakes his head. "I can *see* some of that stubble-burn. How much do you care about that?"

"Ah -- very little --"

"How am I getting you off?"

"By *talking* to me, apparently," Connor says, and laughs again.

Roy grins. "We can do that, too."

"I... there is no doubt in my mind that you could give me an orgasm solely by continuing to talk to me --"

"Should we try it? I mean, I've always found that that kind of thing works better for the *first* come-shot, but...?"

Connor licks his lips -- and twists the hand he has around Roy's cock free before dragging Roy's hand to his own cock.

"Yeah?"

Connor shivers and -- yeah, he's blushing again.

"Nothing strange about *this* --"

"I -- know that --"

"Nothing... mm. Ever wanna get pierced?"

"*Roy* --"

"Just a thought, just a thought --"

"Do you -- do you dislike unpierced --"

"Not even a little. But I can't help liking the idea of something touching you all day, every day. Something making you *feel*," Roy says and squeezes hard --

"*Ohn* --"

" -- even when I can't."

"Roy. Roy, please --"

"Too hard, brother?"

"No, I --" Connor pants and shakes his head. "Please. More."

"Stroke? Talk?"

"*Yes*!"

"And if I wanna kiss you?"

Connor groans and just --

"Oh, brother, I *love* seeing you look that conflicted, and I'm pretty sure that means I'm a terrible person --"

"*No* --"

"Shh, it's okay. I'll just -- we can save the kisses for later, yeah? *Nothing* wrong with kisses --"

"I -- it seems so arbitrary. That *that* act could be... so much more acceptable..."

Roy licks his lips and stares at Connor's mouth a little before starting to stroke, *pull* a little --

Connor groans --

"Someone with your mouth would think so. *Should* think so. I've seen pussies -- *wonderful* pussies -- less lush than what you show to people every time you leave the *house*."

"Oh -- *Roy* --"

"Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little. A *teeny* bit. Heh," and Roy squeezes again --

"*Nnh* --"

Again --

"Oh, *please* --"

"When I think about you sucking me I go *crazy*, Connor. Ever since the first time you kissed my *cheek*."

"Hnh -- oh -- that's *intimidating* --"

"You think I need you to suck like a pro who's been on the street for a decade? You think I need *anything* but to feel you?"

And now that flush is dark enough to *see* --

"Wanna *taste* you again, brother. Wanna suck you right down --"

"Roy -- *Roy* --"

"What is it, hunh? What do you *need*?" And Roy starts stroking faster --

*Faster* --

"You know I'll give it to you. You know I'll give it to you all damned *night*."

And Connor looks *hurt*, looks hungry and desperate --

Roy licks his lips. "I'll fuck you, too. I'll... mm. Lay you down and lick you all over first --"

"I -- what -- "

"That's -- heh. A little perverse. At least the way *I* do it. But only a little, 'cause... I'm *really* not the only one in the world who'd love to shove his tongue up your ass."

Connor grunts --

Shakes his head --

But when he opens his mouth, the only thing that comes out is long, low, *throaty* moan.

"Yeah. I'm not even the only one in the *community* who wants to do it, brother. Clark got *detailed* about it the last time we talked about you --"

Another *grunt* --

Roy grins and squeezes --

And squeezes --

And *squeezes* --

Connor *sobs* --

"Oh, yeah, brother? You wanna know more about that? You wanna think about Clark shoving three of those *huge* fingers deep while he told me all about how *he* perceived your scents? Your *flavors*. He's tasted you in the air, brother. He's tasted you and he *likes* it --"

"*Please* --"

"Please what? Maybe you wanna hear about how good he was to use your voice once I was on my hands and knees and begging for it --"

Connor seizes *hard* -- but doesn't come.

Roy licks his lips. "I want you to come, brother. I want it all over me. I wanna *taste* --"

"You -- you *can't* --"

"Not yet. But that won't last, brother. We'll get us all cleared out and then --"

And then he'll get Connor's hands on his, squeezing and urging a harder stroke, a *vicious* stroke --

"I hear you. I've *got* you -- "

"Yes -- oh, *yes* --" And Connor throws his head back and groans, shudders --

Makes Roy squeeze hard enough that Roy is *wincing* -- "Oh, brother... not gonna let you go --"

"*Roy* --"

"Not gonna. Not gonna let you *run*. You --"

And Connor shouts *while* he's shooting off, one yell for every spurt --

Every needy *spasm* --

And it's *exactly* all he can do not to get his mouth down there, not to do anything more but get that come all over himself --

He can be *patient* --

And he can absolutely be tackled to the floor and kissed while Connor *grinds* against him and they generally make it *really* necessary for their uniforms to get full decon protocol. Roy grins into the kiss and cups Connor's ass with his sticky hands --

Connor pants --

Kisses him again --

Moans --

And pulls back to nuzzle. Which -- yeah.

Roy flips them and does his own grinding, cock and *face* --

"Roy -- oh, *Roy* --"

"Uh, hunh..."

"I -- I promise I'll stop fetishizing your stubble eventually?" And that was almost a *giggle*.

Roy grins and pulls back. "Nah, don't do that, brother. I *like* being your fantasy."

"It's -- it's certainly not *only* your stubble --"

"My hands, yeah?" And Roy squeezes Connor's hips --

"*Oh* -- yes. Your -- your strength is amazing --"

"I can't bench *that* much more than you can --"

"It's how you *use* it. I..." Connor strokes Roy's arms, squeezes his biceps, licks his lips. "You're *shameless*."

"Hey, I have shame for some --"

"Get *rid* of it. You -- it's incredible. *You're* incredible," and Connor gives him a pleading look, a *needy* look --

"Brother..."

"*That*. That *must* be perverse!"

Roy frowns. "What?"

Connor *chokes* -- "*Roy*!"

Roy thinks about it a little -- oh. Heh. He grins -- "Yeah, it's definitely a little out there."

"You have to see --" Connor shakes his head. "I couldn't *reconcile* it in my *head*, Roy! Either you *meant* it when you said you thought of me as your brother, or it was just something you said when what you *really* meant was that you wanted to have *sex* with me."

Roy looks at him.

"You're not allowed to *look* at me like that for *this*, Roy."

"I --" Roy licks his lips. "Okay. Okay. I *do* see your point, but my life's an open *book* in this community, Connor. *Look who's sleeping in my bed right now*."

And that -- was a growl.

"Oh. You're -- jealous?"

"*Yes* -- no."

Roy frowns --

And Connor growls again and covers his face with his hands. "Ignore that."

"I... don't think I can --"

"It's only -- I don't sleep in your bed when you're not in Star City."

"Okay?"

Connor drops his hands and half-glares, half-smiles-ruefully. "I *want* to."

"I'm thinking -- it would be better if I were *there*."

Connor snorts. "Yes, *well*? No, I'm sorry. You're very close to Dick. He was your brother before you -- or our father --"

"*Your* father --"

Connor gives him the pissy look that's just --

"Okay, fine, for the sake of argument --"

"You've been close since before you or Dad knew I existed. My mother once sent me something of a care package which included the issue of Capes Quarterly with a picture of you *kissing Dick's cheek*."

"Oh -- that one. Heh." Roy shakes his head. "The offers I was getting on the street got a lot more interesting after that one. Which was *insane*, because Dickie and I hadn't even done more at that point than jerking off in the same room. While talking about *girls*."

"I -- really?"

Roy smiles ruefully and leans in to nuzzle Connor a little more -- "So maybe I had some crazy ideas about what did -- and didn't -- count as 'manly' when I was fourteen."

"But --"

"*But* everyone is an idiot when they're fourteen. It's in the rules and everything --"

"Roy, you're the manliest person I *know* other than our -- oh."

Roy grins and pulls back again. "It was just a little much to live up to, brother. Now tell me more about how you're *feeling*."

"I --" Connor shakes his head --

"No, c'mon --"

"I'll never -- try to come *between* you and Dick --"

"But you *want* to?"

"I -- why *did* you kiss him then?"

Roy raises his eyebrows.

And Connor laughs and pushes Roy off so he can get to the wipes in his belt. He cleans his hands thoroughly -- and then pinches the bridge of his nose. That --

"God, I love you."

"Mm, the feeling is *entirely* mutual," Connor says, dropping his hand and smiling at him. "I wanted your bed today. It wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last time."

"My bed isn't always gonna be *crowded*, brother --"

"It should be," and Connor strokes Roy's cheek with two fingers. "You... I feel *strongly* that you should never stop making love, brother."

Roy -- breathes a little. "But you should?"

Connor's smile is soft and old. "I don't think I can manage that --"

"Don't try."

"Roy --"

"Don't try. Don't -- you're not *built* for celibacy."

"You didn't have that opinion a few hours ago, Roy."

"A few hours ago I hadn't *felt* you -- or heard *anything* about your *fantasies*."

"*Everyone* has fantasies --"

"*Not* everyone has fantasies that fuck with their *moods*. Not celibate people, anyway."

Connor opens his mouth --

Closes it --

Frowns -- "Truly?"

Roy smiles ruefully. "I'll admit that there's not a whole lot I know about that particular -- heh -- lifestyle choice, but... that's one of the things I'm pretty sure of. There's a difference between fantasies that give you a happy little buzz while you're taking care of business," and Roy gestures, "and fantasies that twist you up inside because you're not *doing* anything about them."

Connor squeezes his eyes shut --

"Hey --"

"No -- I'm. I'm all right," Connor says, opening his eyes again and smiling ruefully. "I... you have both sorts of fantasy?"

"Uh, hunh. Though you shouldn't go by me for *that*, brother. I mean, all my happy-little-buzz fantasies are about people I know I *can't* get, and I'm pretty sure that's not how it works with people who are built for celibacy."

Connor nods thoughtfully. "I don't think... I don't think I should be allowing myself quite so many fantasies --"

"*I* don't think you really have a choice, brother."

*Sour* look --

Roy raises his eyebrows -- and plants a hand on Connor's chest.

Connor squeezes his eyes shut. "I wish I were naked."

"Let's get in the shower --"

"For *just* a shower, Roy...?"

Roy grins. "For now."

Connor glares at him --

Blinks --

And then hums, obviously rueful.

"Yeah?"

"It seemed so *easy* for the monks, Roy."

Roy winces and stands, hauling Connor to his feet and into a hug. "They were grown men. And not related to Ollie Queen."

Connor snorts. "Roy."

Roy pulls back just enough to grin at him and waggle his eyebrows --

And Connor gives him that *prim* look, which --

"Hunh."

"Yes?"

"How fake *is* that look?"

Connor blinks -- and is definitely blushing under the skin.

"Heh. By which I mean -- how much are you thinking about my stubble --"

"And your hands --"

"And my *hands* when you make that face."

"Ah... this one?" And Connor prims at him again.

*Roy* snorts. "Don't stall."

Connor gives him a *sly* look and begins walking backwards toward the bathroom. "Sometimes I'm thinking about your piercings."

"Really." Roy crosses his arms over his chest.

"Other times I'm thinking about your *regiment* of lovers."

"Any of them in particular --"

Connor gives him a *speaking* look --

"*Other* than Dickie --"

"You didn't answer my question."

Question -- oh. Roy grins and follows Connor to the bathroom. "I kissed him because he'd done something ridiculously incredible -- in mid-air, yet -- to save the day --"

"Ah --"

"And because I knew he'd like it."

"Hm."

Roy smiles ruefully and starts to strip. "And because I *wanted* to suck him off... but 'kissing his cheek' was as far as my brain would let me go down that road at the time."

Connor licks his lips and looks him *over* --

"You can look at me like that *anytime* you want, brother."

"I think I'd be insulted if you didn't find it distracting," Connor says, and smiles with rueful *heat* as he strips out of his own uniform.

"Oh, I'd definitely find it distracting. But I'm used to *being* distracted."

Connor laughs. "How much of your mind is taken up by sexual fantasies at any given time of day?"

Roy waggles his eyebrows again. "I'd answer that question, but..."

"But?"

"Too much of me is thinking about doing you in the rain, brother. Can't really concentrate."

*That* gets him another snort -- "Roy."

"Heh." Roy dumps his uniform in the decon chute everyone has in their bathrooms, turns on the fans to clear the air through the entire suite -- oh, yeah, mission. "You were the only one in the lab?"

"Save for assorted moderately well-armed men and women."

Roy frowns. "And *they* weren't masked-up?"

"I'm reasonably sure it wasn't airborne, Roy," and Connor points to a small bandage on his forearm -- where his uniform had been torn. "What I thought was plaster dust... almost certainly was not. It was, in retrospect, too far away from the damaged wall."

"Got it. Still..." Roy shakes his head and uses the bathroom console to send the decon protocol to Shift and Grace --

"What the *fuck*?" And the screen fills with a *severely* bed-headed Grace looking pissed.

"Easy, honey. There's something nasty in that hospital --"

"Connor was affected?"

"Yes --"

"*I'm* not --"

"Grace."

"*Roy*. The decon showers make my sweat smell like moldy grapefruit for *days*."

They really do. Gotta love those metahuman genes. Roy smiles ruefully and spreads his hands.

"God fucking *damn* it," and Grace signs off without another word --

And the screen fills with a worried-looking Shift. Or... Roy isn't sure. It's possible that nubbly blue marble just makes *him* think of worry --

"I heard what you said to Grace. Is Connor all right?"

Roy's about to answer -- but Connor leans over into the camera's range. "I'm well, thank you, Shift. Ah... at the moment."

Shift kind of... tumbles himself until he's inside-out and also pink. Bubblegum pink. There are bubbles. "Meaning you weren't before."

Connor smiles ruefully. "Yes. After showering, I'm going to the infirmary."

"Good call," and Shift turns to Roy. "You know those decon showers don't actually work for me."

"I know, man. But you can still check to make sure you're still... uh... made up of the same compounds?"

Shift nods. "Okay, I'll head to the infirmary, too."

Roy salutes --

And Shift signs off --

And Roy raises his eyebrows at Connor --

And Connor blushes. "He's a very interesting man."

"Grace is interesting, too, you know."

"*Grace* pinched my *rear*."

Roy bites his lip --

"It felt like she was trying to take it *with* her."

Roy coughs. "I -- got it. She was just --"

"Being friendly, Roy...? I got that," Connor says, and steps into the shower. "I *get* that. *Often*."

"From me, even," and Roy steps in, too, and programs the thing --

It flashes green --

Mustard --

Orange --

And Roy curses for the smell, but Connor just sighs and starts wiping himself down. "You dealt with this on the League?"

"Oh, yes. Diana cursed for ten solid minutes. Clark looked something like a sad clown. So did Wally, actually."

Roy snorts. "I bet --"

"Roy..."

"Yeah?"

Connor turns to look at him -- into him.

"I'm listening, brother."

"Is it wrong that I've enjoyed the thought of you being jealous of me? With hypothetical lovers, I mean."

*Which* hypothetical lovers -- no, focus. "Well... it's a little mean."

"A little?"

Roy smiles ruefully. "Were you making me jealous in those fantasies on *purpose*?"

"*No* -- but. It seemed a reasonable... side effect?"

"And I've made *you* jealous a lot?"

Connor smiles ruefully again. "I've wanted you. It seems... it's not easy to say."

"It gets easier with time, brother. I promise."

"I trust you," Connor says, and strokes a path along Roy's slowly-fading bullet scars.

"I love you."

And that makes Connor smile again. "I'd kiss you, but I'd rather not get any of this in my mouth."

Oh -- "You could always nuzzle me a little more."

Connor laughs. "You... are too forgiving, I think."

"Uh... what?"

"I'm being... needy. Grasping --"

"You *want* me --"

"Of course --"

"And I *love* that 'of course' --"

"You're *beautiful* --"

"*You* are -- God, Connor, listen to me for a second, all right?"

"I -- let me scrub your back?"

"In a minute. Listen?"

Connor searches him for a long moment -- and nods.

Roy nods back. "You want me, and a part of you -- a *big* part -- was pretty damned sure you *couldn't* have me --"

"Roy --"

"That you couldn't have me the *way* you wanted me. Right?" And Roy raises his eyebrows.

"You have... so much love."

"Brother..."

Connor closes his eyes for a long moment -- and nods. "A part of me was convinced -- *is* convinced -- that the two of us could never have anything like what you have with Dick."

"Because he came first?"

Connor squeezes Roy's hand. "I..."

"I'm listening."

"I'm reasonably sure most people don't *work* the way you do, Roy."

"Heh. That's because they're all crazy."

"Roy."

"Every last one of them, brother --"

"*Roy*."

"I -- okay, I'll be serious --"

"*Thank* you."

Roy grins. "You're welcome. Polyamory is a thing that exists, brother --"

"I *know* that --"

"And a part of you *really* knows that, because you've got lovers *plural* in your head --"

"I -- but I'm still *jealous* --"

"And that's a thing, too. A couple who's been together for forty years fucking everyone willing who came along without *ever* feeling jealous... just might get into trouble over one *particular* person. Even if it never happened before."

Connor frowns. "Tell me more? And let me scrub your *back*, because I'd like to use the soap that doesn't make my sinuses feel chafed as soon as *possible*."

Roy snorts -- and it's just as painful as he'd known it would be. He turns around and braces his arms on the wall --

"Roy... you're exceedingly attractive."

"My back, too, hunh?"

"Your shoulders, your obliques -- no, please, *you* talk," Connor says, and starts scrubbing him.

"Okay. Here's the deal. Our couple's names are... Bob and Chris, okay?"

"All right..."

"One day, Bob meets Jamie. Sparks fly, and they're all about hitting that -- hard and often, even. Because Bob's in a committed relationship with Chris, though, he puts the brakes on with Jamie and goes home to tell Chris all about it."

"And Chris says no?"

"Maybe. Maybe Chris is feeling a little insecure. He put on a few pounds, he lost some hair -- whatever. Something isn't right, and he *needs* Bob to say no to Jamie -- or just 'not right now.'"

"I -- I don't think -- all right, no, I *do* feel insecure around Dick sometimes --"

"Brother, if the community was forced to decide which of you was hotter, we'd all fall down twitching and foaming at the mouth."

Connor snorts. "That's *not* the issue."

"*He's* never beaten Shiva --"

"That's *also* not the issue. Roy..."

Roy frowns and turns to do Connor's back. "It's me? *Just* me?"

Connor looks back at him from over his shoulder. "Is it so hard to believe?"

"Uh... yes?"

"Oh... Roy..."

Roy shivers. "Let's -- let's go back to Bob and Chris and Jamie, okay?"

Connor nods and turns back to the wall.

Roy crouches to do Connor's legs and feet -- "God, your skin drives me *insane* -- but that's not the issue right now. The *issue* is that Bob and Chris have a routine. One of them meets someone they want to fuck, and they say -- 'well, let's all meet up and see how we feel.'"

"That -- people *do* that?"

"All the time, brother. But, anyway... it doesn't go so well. Maybe Chris thinks Jamie's an asshole. Maybe Jamie isn't respectful to anyone he doesn't want to fuck. Maybe Chris starts thinking -- despite *everything* telling him to the contrary -- that Jamie is going to take Bob away from him. Worse -- maybe he starts *feeling* that --"

"Do you... does Dick ever make you jealous?"

"Oh, yeah. But only when it comes to Bruce."

Connor shivers. "Bruce didn't change *expressions* when he walked into the decontamination showers."

"He's *Batman*."

Connor laughs softly. "Indeed. But... your jealousy?"

"Bruce is first in Dick's heart, always and forever. That... that's hurt me a lot over the years."

"Oh -- Roy --"

"Shh, don't get --"

"I'm allowed to be *upset* for you --"

"Not about love, brother," Roy says, standing and reprogramming the shower at *speed*. "There's nothing *anyone* can do about how they feel -- or don't feel -- about someone else. And I've grown out of needing Dick to be anyone other than who he is."

Connor frowns at him, and it doesn't ease up even when the plain water starts sluicing them off.

"Connor --"

"I -- back to the hypothetical lovers."

Roy does his own frowning --

And Connor smiles ruefully and cups his face. "Please."

God -- "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"Oh -- you make me -- you make me want to be a different *person*."

"Connor --"

"No, that's not correct. I..."

"Tell me?"

"You make me want to be the person I've been trying *exceedingly* hard *not* to be."

Roy takes a breath -- no, that's not what he wants. He shoves Connor against the wall and takes *his* breath, gives it back with his tongue, with his moan when Connor cups the back of his head, strokes Roy's hip with what feels like *every* callus on his left hand --

Roy kisses him harder, licks Connor's tongue into his mouth and sucks it, grabs Connor's ass and uses his own calluses --

Presses *closer* when Connor moans, when Connor pushes a hand between them *just* to rub Roy's chest --

His *rings* --

He tugs *gently*, and Roy twitches for it, *needs* for it -- no. He pulls back --

"Roy -- was it wrong?"

"No. God, no. Just -- let's get to the infirmary?"

Connor looks at him -- blushes again. "I -- I'm sorry --"

"No."

"I might've just been apologizing for... this," Connor says, and *twists* his nipple --

"*Jesus* --"

"I want -- in this moment, in this..." Connor shakes his head and rubs at Roy's nipple, presses -- "Don't hold back with me, Roy. Show me everything. *Teach* me everything, even if I can't stop myself from protesting --"

"Brother --"

"I'm not -- I *refuse* to hold you back, Roy. Especially not from *myself*."

Roy grunts because that's what he *has* --

"Oh -- brother," and Connor kisses him again, and again --

Starts rubbing him down with his soap --

And somehow that's the part that's too much for his sanity right now: he's going to smell like Connor. He's going to smell like Connor because Connor is scrubbing him and feeling him up at the same time --

Kissing him and --

Nuzzling him and moaning, and a part of Roy wants really *badly* to thank whatever almost-certainly-evil idiots came up with whatever this compound is going to turn out to be --

It's a currently *growing* part -- wait.

Wait --

And he's on the fifth or sixth 'wait' in his head when he manages to remember *how* to push Connor away --

Connor *groans* --

It's better than nothing. It's -- "Brother, when we're checked out clean? We're going *nuts*. Okay?"

Connor pants and stares at him --

"I promise."

Connor licks his *lips* -- and nods.

They wash quickly, then, and Roy doesn't jump Connor when he washes his tackle --

Or when he washes his ass --

Or when he *blushes* while washing his ass --

And maybe they're scrubbing each other's hands and -- not kissing again. Not *that*, but looking at each other, and *breathing* with each other --

And then Connor spins Roy against the wall and starts washing his hair.

"Brother --"

"Yes, it's a -- well, I suppose you could call it a kink."

"For my *hair*?"

"For *touching* you. For..." Connor laughs. "I've thought of you doing this for me --"

"Done --"

"Not --"

"There's nothing I don't wanna do to you, with you, for you, at you, on you --"

"But it's strange for me to feel the same?"

Roy shivers and tilts his head back for the spray. "Point taken. I -- we never really finished talking --"

"About the politics of polyamory...? No, we didn't, but..."

"But you think you understand all you need to?"

Connor laughs and washes Roy's hair a second time. "When you say it like that, absolutely not. But -- no. I *do* understand that jealousy happens whether or not it should. I also understand that *you* understand such things --"

"What do you need from me, Connor? Just -- give it to me straight, okay?"

"I..." Connor *massages* Roy's scalp --

"Jesus, you've got great hands --"

"Touching you inspires them --"

"Connor --"

"Give me your bed from time to time. Spend the night -- the *day* -- with me from time to time. Look at me... look at me *precisely* the way you always have, save that there should be more confidence. The kind of confidence you have with Dick."

"I -- I always know I can *make* Dick want me even if I'm not who's on his mind."

"The same is true for me, Roy."

"I... really?" Roy turns around --

And Connor immediately tilts his head back for the spray -- and for the chance to kiss Roy's throat.

"Brother..."

"It's a conversation I've been having with Tim off and on for the past two and a half years," Connor says, and kisses his way to Roy's ear --

Shivers --

And clutches a little when Roy hugs him.

"I've got you, brother."

"So you do," Connor says, and kisses Roy's temple before pulling back. "My hair?"

"You got it. But tell me about --"

"The question... the question of how much I'm repressing at any given moment versus how much I could reasonably *show*... given my background."

Roy frowns and rubs the shampoo between his hands. It smells like sun on wildflowers, green with a *thin* sweetness, and it always makes Roy want to touch Connor, make him sweat, make him *work* --

Well, Roy *is* going to be twenty-seven pretty damned soon. Assuming he lives that long, there *will* come a day when he's not hard more than he is, and he won't even have a cold or injury to explain it.

Until that time, he's got *this* -- and he's damned well thrilled with it. Roy starts working the shampoo into Connor's short, thick hair and waits --

"The monks didn't punish me for my emotions. I -- I never want to give you that impression."

"Brother, I'm not *completely* ignorant about how Buddhism works."

"No, of course not..." Connor shakes his head. "There was always... a lesson, if not a koan. An expression of the beauty and freedom and *worthiness* of letting go. I... do you know what I'm saying?"

Roy winces and massages a little --

"Oh -- that..."

Roy's cock perks up even *more* -- "This is why you haven't let me give you any rubdowns, isn't it?"

Connor laughs, soft and embarrassed. "Ah... yes."

"Don't do that anymore, brother."

Connor hums and reaches back to cup and rub Roy's thigh. "Is that an order?"

Oh... "A... gentle order?"

"I don't need gentleness all the time. You know that," and Connor turns to raise an eyebrow at him.

"You needed it today."

"I needed... I needed time to get away from my fear. And my fear of failure."

Roy frowns -- and thinks about it. "They showed you... the monks showed you a 'better' way."

"Oh, yes. And I still don't think of it in quotes."

"Connor..."

Connor sighs and tilts his head back. "I believe this is where I admit that I still feel guilt for becoming a vigilante."

"Damn --"

"Not much anymore, though, Roy. I promise," and Connor pushes his hands through his short hair before shaking it out and turning back to face him. "I do learn, given time. Even about myself."

"Brother..."

"Brother," Connor says, and cups Roy's face. "I believe you understand what it means to take lessons to heart, whether or not those lessons are correct for you, or even correct, at all."

That -- Roy manages not to rear back. "That... is the first uncomplimentary thing I've ever heard you say --"

Connor presses his thumb to Roy's mouth. "He's our father, and I am not the boy who idolized him from a distance. I know him now, and I know *you* now... and I can see a little, I think, of what it must have been like for you. And I'm sorry."

Roy squeezes his eyes shut --

"Please..."

Roy opens his eyes again and tugs Connor's hand away --

Kisses Connor and hugs him, rocks him a little --

Squeezes *hard* --

And Connor sighs. "He talks, sometimes, about his regrets with you."

"I... yeah?"

Connor pulls back and smiles ruefully. "I feel guilty, sometimes, solely for being able to have a *self-reflective* Oliver Queen in my life."

Roy snorts. "I'll make a deal with you, brother."

"Yes?"

"You give up on guilt... and I'll kick my last few fragments of shame to the curb."

"Oh, that sounds *marvelously* simple. I'll get started on it immediately," Connor says, and *looks* at him.

Roy grins slowly. *Wetly* --

And Connor narrows his eyes a little. Just -- a little. That --

"Did you learn how to hide *every* 'unacceptable' emotional reaction?"

Connor blinks. "I... was expecting you to say something much more pleasant than that."

Roy coughs into his fist. "Uh -- sorry. But answer the question?"

"Lust, mostly, is what I learned to hide. Greed. Hunger I couldn't... justify."

"Well -- fuck."

"It's not a surprise at this point, is it?"

"*No*, but..." Roy shakes his head. "Now I kinda wish I *hadn't* encouraged you to get even closer to Tim."

"You think *Tim* is a bad influence?"

Roy looks at him.

"Roy --"

"Did the two of you share tips on how to keep up a poker face?"

"Of course --"

"I rest my case."

"We *also* shared tips on how to let *go* of the poker faces our childhoods *stapled* onto our *souls*."

Roy frowns.

"Oh -- Roy." And Connor shakes his head and turns off the water, stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel --

"Wait, did you use that towel when you came in here?"

Connor freezes. "I... I'm not sure *which* of those towels I used, now that I consider it."

"Okay, hold on," Roy says, stepping out of the shower and slipping on a pair of the sturdy decon gauntlets he keeps under the sink in every bathroom. He dumps both towels down the chute, looks around...

He chucks the facecloths, too, and then the gloves.

By then, Connor has fresh towels from the cabinet and a rueful smile. "Thank you. Again."

"Only wanna get high with you the *non*-traumatic ways, brother."

Connor hums and starts drying off. "Noted. And... Tim is a lot more open than he used to be."

"With you."

"*And* Dick. Or wouldn't he be significantly unhappier if that weren't the case?"

Roy frowns a little more --

"Roy... are *you* jealous?"

Roy blinks --

Thinks about it while he's drying off --

And snorts at himself. "Uh... that's a big ol' probably."

Connor blinks. "Because of his relationship with Dick?"

"*And* you. Mostly you."

"Roy, Tim and I have *never* --"

Roy holds up a hand. "Do you want him?"

And that gets him the *pissily* prim face, but... wasn't there a little hesitation?

Roy raises his eyebrows --

And Connor turns away and laughs. "Tim said, three letters ago, that I should prepare myself for a loss of *facility* with my lies. That they would become more difficult -- and more difficult to perpetrate *smoothly* -- with each increase in honesty. I was honestly expecting a little more *time*."

Roy shivers -- copes. "You have to be honest with me, brother. If we -- if we're gonna do this anything like right."

Connor swallows and looks back at him. "I'm sorry. I do desire him. Sometimes... very much."

"And you lied because...?"

"Reflex," Connor says, and smiles ruefully. "Admitting to desire is admitting to desire's worth."

Roy frowns. "That's not --"

"How Buddhism works? No, it isn't. You may have noticed that I'm not a very *good* Buddhist, brother."

That -- Roy snorts. "Grace told me you shot out a guy's shoulders today. *Both* of them."

Connor's grin is sly and dark. "I... slipped?"

"Heh. Nice."

Connor inclines his head. "Thank you kindly." And he smiles ruefully again and hangs up their towels before stepping out into the bedroom again.

Roy follows. "Tell me?"

"'We must admit to our desires. We must know them in every way available to us, for only then can we resist and reject them. Without knowledge, without *acceptance*, there can be no freedom -- however eventual that freedom may turn out to be.'"

"I -- heh. You know exactly which parts of that I agree with," Roy says, and takes Connor's extra robe. "And I told you you didn't have to pack one --"

"Yes, but this robe is my *favorite*," Connor says, pissiness back in force -- and then gone with a snort. "Would there have been a full wardrobe here for me if I'd waited any longer to visit?"

Roy snickers. "Dick has an entire *bureau* for me in his place. It's not weird, I promise."

Connor hums noncommittally and leads them out into the hall. "I suppose I'll take your word for it."

"You do that, brother. And give me *all* of your lusts and hungers and greeds and everything else, while you're at it."

"Even the ones about Tim...?" And Connor's smile is sharp.

"Even those, because a) Dick's been giving me *his* Tim-lust for years now, and b) we're damned well due for a big, brotherly orgy."

Connor snorts. "You're tempting me to nerve-strike you."

"I *promise* they're great."

"Roy."

"Think of it this way, brother -- it's a great way to get me comfortable with Tim and *you* comfortable with Dick."

"I'd rather prefer to be comfortable with him *before* having sex with him."

Heh. "Oh, sure, you *could* do it that way..."

"But...?"

"*But*," Roy says, and swaggers like Ollie after a few beers. "It's *slow*, son. Inefficient. *Bourgeois*."

"Roy."

Roy scratches at the beard he doesn't have. "Life's too short to pussyfoot around, Connor, my boy. When you find yourself a nice, liberated... man of the world --"

Connor snorts impressively --

"You gotta grab the bull by the *horns*, son. If, you know, you're into that sorta thing," and Roy beetles his brows a little bit --

And Connor pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Are you listening to me, son? This is *important* stuff, here --"

"Roy. You are *not* encouraging me to have sex with you."

"*More* sex with me," Roy says, and *waggles* his eyebrows.

Connor glares at him, but the smile in his eyes is making his mouth twitch just a little bit - -

And Roy relaxes his face so he can grin *exactly* the way he wants to. "I love you so much, brother."

Connor hums. "The feeling is mutual. Much to my -- occasional -- chagrin."

"Heh. I can live with that."

When they get to the infirmary, Shift's just pouring himself out of the diagnostic bed.

"How's it looking?"

He gives them about forty thumbs up. "I'm still me. Anything else I should do? Grace already has Anissa checking to see who owns that hospital."

Meaning Grace is still pissed at Oracle for being... hirself and is making the new kid pay homage. Which works well enough -- Anissa still has the kind of awe for Leaguers and auxiliary Leaguers that feeds Oracle's ego.

Not that anyone's supposed to think ze *has* an ego, but Roy knows Dick *exactly* well enough to know that Oracle is just as human as *he* is. So. Roy thinks about it for a minute, though --

Connor *and* Shift are waiting patiently just like he knows what he's *talking* about --

No, not thinking about that. He shakes his head. "Just be ready to move. We *might* have to jump on that so-called hospital with both feet, but, if we do, we're not doing a damned thing without rebreathers, haz-mat suits, the whole nine."

Shift raises his eyebrows, which actually look like they're made of hair at the moment. "We have all that stuff?"

"Hell, yeah," Roy says, and calls up the HQ map on the wall. He taps one of the darkened areas under Delancey Street. "Storage Bay Four. Send Grace to go looking to see if we *do* have anything she can use. If not, we can work something up for her. Everyone else should be able to find things that fit."

Shift nods thoughtfully. "All this stuff you set up for us..."

Roy raises his own eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Heh. Nothing, man. You've been doing this for half your life -- and it shows."

And that's the kind of compliment... Roy smiles ruefully. "Hey, it only takes *one* weekend spent puking your guts out because some supervillain gassed you before you wind up wanting to have this stuff *around*."

Shift snickers and punches Roy's arm -- it feels like getting hit with a bag of hot mercury -- and then salutes. "I'll get everyone down there. Hey, Nightwing already has all this stuff somewhere in his freaking boots, right?"

"Batman wouldn't have it *any* other way."

"Cool, we'll keep letting him sleep, then," and Shift turns to Connor. "You're definitely feeling better?"

"Much, thank you. But... ah... it was somewhat dire for a while."

"What did it *do* to you?"

Now how is Connor going to field *that* --

Connor blushes under the skin and looks down. "It seems to have removed a rather large number of my inhibitions," and then he raises his own eyebrow.

Shift blinks a few times --

*Starts* to look back at Roy --

Then raises his hands and smiles ruefully. "No offense, man, but I'm kinda glad I wasn't the one to check on you."

Connor coughs and blushes hard enough that a little pink is showing under the brown. "Ah... noted? Noted."

Shift claps Connor on the shoulder. "Catch you both later."

They nod at him, and then Connor strips off his robe and gets on the diagnostic bed, programming it easily until it's set for a bio-standard human male in his twenties.

Roy sticks around long enough to watch Connor getting cocooned in all those strands of not-quite-spider-silk and then heads over to the wall. "Arsenal to O."

The mask takes over the monitor immediately... and smiles.

With about seventeen hundred sharp, sharp teeth.

Roy snorts. "So you *were* watching?"

"I always do... eventually. Hnn." And the scrambler turns hir voice into something as synthetically threatening as Indigo... isn't. Anymore. "Thunder has all the information I do about that hospital. What do *you* need?"

"Your happiness, babe, always --"

"Then *use* the child-sized tracers."

Roy winces. "They're stitched into every item of clothing she *owns*, O --"

"Clothing, as you well know, can be removed."

Which is *exactly* as queasy-making a thought as it should be, but -- "I can't do it."

"Then let someone *else* --"

"O."

"*Roy*. You sent her out today with *one* guard. One guard hampered by a bag full of children's toys and snacks --"

"When she's older --"

"*If* she gets older? She can decide whether or not to have them removed. Right now she's at an age where it makes sense for Daddy to watch her every move --"

"It's not right --"

"Neither is the life we -- *all* -- choose to live. Get it done."

Roy squeezes his eyes shut and just -- fills his mind with the image of holding his little girl *still* while he punches in all the tracers --

SOP to use at least four --

And they hurt going in and they *burn* when they settle --

And she won't understand the pain. And she won't understand that Daddy *and* a bunch of strangers will know everything about where she is and how she'll feel while she's there --

And then she *will* understand, and that'll be her *life*. Hostage to fortune and Mommy's and Daddy's fucked-up lifestyle choices. She'll grow up knowing that she's a pawn -- a *prize* as much as she's a person --

"Roy... I understand --"

"You don't, Oracle. And we both know you never will. Leave it."

A pause -- "Consider it left -- for now. I presume you're waiting for me to analyze the data on the compound that was in your and Green-Arrow-the-second's systems?"

"Just as soon as it's isolated. It *acted* a little like something the second Robin told me he got exposed to some years back... only this didn't *last*."

"As far as you know. If you were *my* operatives --"

"Which we *aren't* --"

"You'd be benched until we could be *sure* your systems were clean."

"Hey, in case you *weren't* paying attention? I have no intention of taking the team in until we're all kitted-up."

"Which will still take less than twenty-four hours."

"O, we *have* the JLA tech --"

"And... you're not my operatives." The scrambler turns hir sigh into thin whine. "At least consider waiting for N to be ready to join you. *You* have experience with this sort of thing, but *he* --"

"Has more. Yeah, I hear you," and Roy grins at the nearest camera -- he'd watched Dinah plant the thing.

"Yes, A...?"

"What's got you feeling so protective today, hunh?" Roy waggles his eyebrows again. "Liked what you saw that much?"

"Hnn. It would be a crying, keening, *and* breast-beating shame for your brothers to leave this plane of existence, Arsenal."

Roy snickers. "You got that right. Guess I'll just have to -- heh -- take good care of them."

The view on the monitor changes to a sexless green avatar -- mask very *much* present -- with crossed legs and steepled fingers. "You could let me help."

"What kind of help are we talking about?"

The avatar shows teeth again --

And then the monitor shows two complicated-looking molecules side by side. Of course ze wouldn't actually need him to send the results from their diagnostic bed. And... this really *isn't* his area of expertise -- even *remotely* -- but even he can see that the molecules are just about identical --

And the one on the right fades to an image of Poison Ivy looking *extra* poisonous and not even a little bit human anymore, despite her shape. Her hair looks like what would happen if Connor's ferns turned red, her fingers bend like vines --

Even her eyes are different now, old and alien in ways the aliens *Roy* knows can't touch. And -- yeah.

Roy nods. "You're telling me that someone's been stealing plays from her book."

"Hnn. It's *possible* that your targets came up with that compound independently... but."

"I hear you. There's pretty much no way in hell this isn't government-sponsored."

The avatar comes back and shrugs. "It *could* be a matter of some high-powered donor simply *using* government access."

Roy snorts. "Not actually better, O. I... am no longer sure this is a job for the Outsiders -- as opposed to a job it would be useful for the Outsiders to take the blame for."

"Hnn. Hnn. Somewhere in the dim, dank fastnesses of... somewhere we won't discuss over this channel..."

"Someone we're also not discussing is smiling...?"

The avatar spreads its hands. "Perhaps. I'm forwarding the information as we speak... but I wouldn't be surprised if it wound up right back in your lap."

"Because it's not *big* enough? O, if this crap got released on a busy street --"

"Because," Oracle says, sharp and hard, "you're more than equipped to take point. We -- and I use that word judiciously -- trust you."

Roy blinks. "I -- oh."

And that -- is the feel of Connor moving up behind him and resting his hands on Roy's shoulders. "Hello, Oracle. Are you well?"

"Green Arrow the second. Hnn. I'm significantly more free of poisons than you are, but perhaps somewhat less... fulfilled."

Connor laughs quietly. "I'm glad -- and sorry -- to hear that. And quite sure my brother could be of assistance."

Roy snorts. "Connor --"

"Can he now."

Connor squeezes Roy's shoulders. "I have the utmost faith in him, Oracle. In many, many ways, for many, many reasons."

"How curious," ze says, and the avatar uncrosses and recrosses its legs. "I feel *precisely* the same."

Connor hums and *hugs* him --

And Roy doesn't know what to do with the fact that ninety-eight percent of him wasn't prepared for Connor to do that without putting his robe back on first, or the fact that two percent *was* ready --

Or the fact that Connor is kissing his temple. "I'm not sure if we've managed to get our point across in those respects, Oracle, but I promise I'll be... trying harder."

"Hnn. You do that. Oracle out." The screen goes that flat, bright green ze likes so much --

And then it goes black just like ze *isn't* still watching, but he wouldn't be Dick Grayson's brother if he couldn't live with that just fine. Roy reaches up to cup the back of Connor's head.

"Oh -- I like that."

"I like it, too. You're comfortable with Oracle."

"Shouldn't I be?"

Roy grins and cups Connor's wrist with his free hand. "Most people aren't."

"Well, I am unique."

Roy snorts. "Yes, you *are*. Tell me about it anyway?"

Connor squeezes him. "Ze kept me company every time I had watch. Ze made it absolutely impossible for me to spend any time panicking about the responsibilities I'd been given. Ze asked my opinions about various missions, briefed me about supervillains ze thought I ought to know more about... it took an embarrassingly long time to figure out what ze was doing, and I will always be grateful for it."

"But the rest of the League was there for you, too, yeah?"

"Oh, yes. But Clark never missed an opportunity to hit on me -- very politely, of course -- Wally never missed an opportunity to *assault* me with his sense of humor --"

Roy coughs. "Uh -- yeah, he does that."

"Indeed. Bruce was himself, save when he was being personable -- and that only happened at the most *awkward* times possible. J'onn was always polite and helpful, but... remote. Diana was wonderful, but very much *royalty*, Kyle..."

"Had his own issues?"

Connor squeezes him again. "He's been a wonderful friend, and sometimes I wonder if it's truly possible for me to return the favor."

"You do, brother. With *everyone* you give your friendship to."

"I --"

"Kyle's different, I know. I..." Roy shakes his head and turns around, cupping Connor's face and kissing him brief and warm. "Did the bed have any ideas about how to get the rest of that crap out of our systems?"

"Fluids. And, oddly enough, sweet potatoes."

Roy blinks and looks at the bed. "I think we have some sweet potato fries in one of the freezers?"

"I'm sure those will do. And the bed was quite clear about the fact that the vast majority of the compound in my system had degraded to inactive compounds," and Connor leans in and kisses Roy's cheek -- and nuzzles him there --

"*Is* this your preferred stubble-length?"

"I -- suppose I am doing this again," Connor says, and laughs quietly.

Roy squeezes Connor's hips. "Answer the question, brother."

"I'd like to feel it somewhat shorter, actually."

Roy pulls back and raises his eyebrows. "More bristly...?"

Connor narrows his eyes *hotly*.

"I'll take that as a yes. About Kyle, though... even with being on a team with him for *longer*, I think you know him better than I do."

Connor smiles ruefully. "That's one of the things that worries me about him. I suspect I know him better than *most* people."

"But you still don't think you know him enough; I hear you." Roy strokes Connor's hips with his thumbs --

Does it a little more when it makes Connor narrow his eyes again --

And a little more than that -- wait. "You can't take responsibility for anyone's issues but your own, you know --"

"Oh, really, Roy? How *is* that working for you?"

Roy opens his mouth -- Roy closes his mouth and smiles. "Okay."

"Yes?"

"How's this -- you only take responsibility for the issues of people you *definitely* want to make love with."

"That doesn't actually --"

"Answer a question? It really, really does," Roy says, and waggles his eyebrows a little more.

"Oh -- *Roy*. You could've just *asked*."

"Hey, those reflexes of yours might've kicked in --"

"And then you could've pointed out that I was lying for no good reason --"

"You know something?"

"Yes?"

"You... are really, really naked."

"So you *did* notice. When are we going to destroy that lab?"

"After we're all kitted-up -- *including* the delightful young woman who is currently quarantining herself for the good of the team, because --"

"She smells of rotten citrus, yes, I see. But... not tonight?"

Roy shakes his head and starts walking them toward the door --

"*You* have to get checked --"

"I --"

"No," Connor says, twisting free and pointing Roy to the bed.

"Okay, okay, but..." And Roy rubs at his stubble. Slowly.

Connor licks his lips -- but doesn't stop pointing.

"You know I'm pretty much duty-bound to figure out something I can do to make you stop thinking practical thoughts, right?"

Connor raises a pissy eyebrow.

Roy grins and takes a nice, slow swagger to the diagnostic bed. "Just be prepared, brother. I'll *get* your number."

"Perhaps I'll get yours," Connor says in a low and *husky* voice... before licking his lips again. Slowly.

"Oh -- Jesus."

Connor *burns* at him a little --

"Connor..."

And then snorts and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I think I have to be significantly more aroused before I can keep that up, brother."

"I can *help* with --"

"*Bed*."

Roy sighs and climbs on, reflexively checks the programming to make sure it knows who it's dealing with -- it had taken some wrangling, but Roy had managed to get everyone on the team in here for a baseline reading -- and relaxes.

Relaxing is the only way to *deal* with being cocooned --

And he's never, ever getting into a gimp suit for *anyone* --

The Kal who's lived in his mind for the past seven years or so has a smile for that -- what he can't talk Roy into, he can *order* and *make* Roy like -- but... well, it's Kal. It's not that he doesn't get off on torturing Roy -- he absolutely does -- but *Clark* still lives in Kal, and Clark loves naked skin, *rank* sweat, exposed *everything* --

Roy Harper. Are you aware that your heart rate and body temperature are increasing?

Heh. And, for some things, the implants the Fortress' monitor-servant had left in his brain seven years ago are still useful. Roy concentrates, focusing on the part of his mind that is -- entirely literally -- *wired* for communication -- I'm fine, Bed. Just standard sexual arousal. Or... is it?

Analyzing.

Do your thing, Bed. And Roy focuses on non-cock-ly things. He hasn't written any new songs in months, but there's one in his head now, anyway. Or -- the bare bones of one. Something about spring, only jazzy and sweet like summer. Something that pounds like a heart --

You are sexually aroused.

And?

There are no anomalies, save for remnants of the same contaminant found in Connor Hawke's liver.

It's in his *liver*?

It shows every sign of continuing to break down to the inactive compounds found in your bloodstream. Would you like a printout?

No, I'm good. Sweet potatoes?

Yes. If you consume at least two hundred twenty six grams of sweet potatoes, your system will flush itself faster."

... Butter or no butter?

Analyzing --

No, that's okay, I'm just being an ass again, Bed.

Why?

That's an excellent question, and I promise to get back to you --

Is it because you are sexually aroused and impatient?

Roy thinks about blinking --

Remembers the feel of sticky, silky threads getting *caught* in his eyelashes --

He doesn't blink. He focuses -- It's possible, Bed.

I would like to know more about human sexual arousal.

Because, somehow, Roy rates a sentient artificial intelligence of his own, these days. And he damned well has to deal with it. Focus -- I promise to discuss it with you at another time. For now, why not do a full scan on me starting in about, say, thirty seconds?

Thank you, Roy Harper.

You're welcome. And Roy thinks about Kal's big, smooth, *hot* hands --

Dickie's hair wrapped around his fist --

Dinah's *sweaty* pussy after a night encased in leather --

And Connor's soft, broad mouth --

Connor's smooth skin --

He has so few *scars* compared to everyone else Roy knows. Some of that is the fact that Connor hasn't even been doing this for three years, but some of it is that he's just that fucking *good*.

There isn't *one* school of martial arts he doesn't know at least a little about, and he can damned well use all of it --

When he isn't shooting.

God, that *body* --

Those smiles --

And everything Roy can maybe talk him into as soon as he gets out of *here*. That cock back in his mouth. That tight little *hole* --

Roy groans in his chest --

Thank you, Roy Harper.

Got what you need?

Yes, for now. I will be doing a detailed comparison between these readings and those of your baseline.

Cool, gimme a buzz when you have questions.

Yes. Do you wish to be released?

Yes, please --

Heat --

The feel of all that silk *drying* --

And then the full-body breeze as it gets sucked away, cleaned, and recycled in some doubtlessly terrifying way that he doesn't want to know about.

As usual, he shivers all over once it's all gone --

Forces himself not to *scrub* at his perfectly clean eyes, as opposed to rubbing them --

And it's not at *all* usual to get kissed in this bed --

Get touched and rubbed and *scratched* --

Roy sits up, stands, and backs Connor up, kissing him the whole way to the door --

"It's only --"

"Uh, hunh --"

"You made a --"

Kiss --

"*Sound* --"

"You like my sounds, brother?"

Kiss --

Kiss *deeper*, because they're in the hallway and *eventually* Connor will notice and care about that --

Connor pushes his hands into Roy's hair and goes with it, though, which --

Now that he thinks about it --

"You spent a lot of time naked in that monastery, didn't you?"

"It was the practical choice quite often. And there weren't any --"

"Daddy! Where are your *clothes*?"

Connor looks *horrified* --

Roy coughs, pats Connor's cheek, and turns to pick Lian up and spin her around enough to distract her a little bit --

Hopefully a lot --

"Daddeeeeeee!"

He can see Connor motoring back into the infirmary out of the corner of his eye -- good enough.

Especially because Lian is giggling and *whooping* a little. Roy hugs a little more of the breath out of her, and she kisses his cheek --

"Daddy, you need to *chave*!"

"I will soon, honey. First I gotta spend a little more time with Uncle Connor."

She looks around for him --

And Connor walks out of the infirmary wearing his robe and holding Roy's. He's blushing furiously enough to *show* --

And staring at Roy like he's crazy.

Roy shrugs --

"Unca Connor hi!"

"Hello, Lian --"

"I was a pirate today!"

Roy hands Lian over and takes the robe, happy beyond *words* that he was only a little hard --

And *depressed* beyond words that Connor *isn't* even a little hard, anymore. His robe is too thin to hide that kind of thing, and -- wait.

"You don't *look* like a pirate, honey."

"Daddy! You have to use magination!"

Roy nods thoughtfully. "She was at a Storytime Fair at the library today."

"Ah, that sounds wonderful," Connor says, and hitches Lian a little higher. "Did you board many ships today?"

Lian stares at Connor *blankly* --

And Roy takes a moment to think about how many other kids there *weren't* at that monastery. He wraps an arm around Connor's waist and tugs on Lian's ponytail, which is so far off-center that she looks like it's nineteen-eighty-six again. "What he *means* is... were you a good pirate or a *bad* pirate?"

"Ohh. Bad! I made *everyone* walk the plank!"

Connor laughs. "Even your fellow pirates?"

"Everyone!" And Lian beams at both of them -- then gasps and twists enough that she can yank on Roy's robe. "Daddy! Daddy!"

"What's up, baby?"

"They had guns! Pirates had guns! Big ones! With squiggles and stuff!"

Roy grins. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yes! Miss Tina showed us pictures and the bullets were round and they weren't called bullets and you should get one!"

"A pretty one?"

"Yes!" And she bounces on Connor and smacks Roy repeatedly *just* like she's had more Storytime than Naptime today.

Roy nods toward the living areas and they start walking. "So.. where did you leave Janie?"

"In the kitchen! She said it was time for me to eat more veggies but I don't want them --"

"Are you tired, baby?"

"No!" And she yawns wide enough for Roy to see her tonsils. Nice.

"You know..." And he gives her the full, bristly, rubber-faced eyebrow-waggle --

She giggles and smacks him a few more times --

Mushes his face --

Mushes *Connor's* face until he sticks his tongue out at her --

She giggles more and bounces -- "*Tell* me, Daddy!"

"Uncle Dickie's here, too."

"I didn't see him in his room!"

Meaning she's been wandering around HQ for God only knows *how* long, because Dick's room is *away* from everyone else's --

And Janie has to be going nuts at this point.

Roy smiles ruefully and tugs on her ponytail. "He's in *my* room, baby. You know, that place where *you're* supposed to be."

She stares at him --

Bites her lip --

Giggles -- "Okay I'll go put me *down*!"

"*First* we gotta find --"

"Oh, thank *God*," and Janie is holding a Mighty Mutants thermos, Lian's favorite -- gun-shaped -- spoon, and, for some reason, a towel. "Sorry, Roy, I only looked away for a *minute*, I swear."

"It's cool -- you know she can't get to anything *too* dangerous." It's just protocol to keep everything interesting that *isn't* locked-down way the hell up nice, slippery walls.

"Still --" Janie shakes her head. "You know you're not supposed to run off, Lian," she says, and puts on her Parris Island face.

She was never *actually* a drill instructor -- or even a Marine -- but calling it a 'Special Forces' face just doesn't do it *enough* justice --

Especially since Lian looks good and contrite.

Roy kisses her temple. "What do we say?"

"Sorry, Janie."

Janie looks a little more badass --

"I mean it!"

And then Janie smiles. "Okay, then," and she looks up at him -- and Connor. "I've got her broccoli in the thermos. *Where* am I feeding her?"

"Dickie's gonna want to be awake right around now anyway -- take her back to my room."

Janie *looks* at him --

And Roy grins and looks right back. Janie knows *exactly* what he does with the free time that doesn't revolve around Lian, and, sometimes, if Lian's napping deeply enough, she and Roy spend some of that free time together. She's about ten years older he is, knows at least as much judo as he does, shoots *nearly* as well as he does -- and just as fast --

She's the best damned nanny he's found, and he'd do one whole fuck of a lot to keep her happy. Including --

"You can take off after she's down for the night."

Janie raises an eyebrow. "Does Uncle Dickie know that?"

"Not yet, but he *will*. He needs this *bad*."

"Needs *what*, Daddy? Does he have any guns yet?"

"Not yet, baby," he says, and leads them toward his bedroom. "And he needs *you*. He hasn't seen you --"

"In ten whole days!"

Actually, it's more like three weeks, what with missions and naptimes, but 'ten whole days' is how Lian has started expressing the concept of 'way too freaking long.' "That's *exactly* right," Roy says, and kisses her temple again --

And Lian twists in his arms enough to see Connor. "Are you staying?"

Connor strokes her hair. "Yes, for at least several more days."

*Yes* --

"Ten whole days?"

"Ah... perhaps --"

"Yay!"

Definitely gonna have to tell Connor what that means *soon*. For now, he lets Lian wriggle out of his arms and into Connor's --

And Connor starts humming one of those low and soothingly *rhythmic* songs he'd picked up in the monastery.

Three minutes later, they're all in Roy's living room and Lian is explaining to a seriously confused-looking Dick why he needs guns of his own in between bites of lukewarm broccoli from Janie and jaw-cracking yawns.

Roy steps back into the doorway just to watch for a while --

Just to *see* --

Just to see Lian *punch* Dick when he tries to steal some of her broccoli -- heh. He'll be fine. She won't be awake *that* much longer, and then he can head down to the mess.

After another minute, Connor presses his palm to Roy's back --

And Dick gives them a *glittering* look that's really --

Connor coughs quietly --

Heh. *That* was the *sound* of a blush. Still -- Roy nods to Dick.

Dick licks his *lips*.

Connor clears his *throat* --

"Unca Dick-eeeeeeee! Pay attention!"

Heh heh.

"Sorry, princess," Dick says, and gives them both a wink before turning back to Lian. "It's just that I don't *want* any guns."

"But they're pretty!"

"Not -- ah --"

"They go boom! BOOM!"

"This is true, but --"

"*Daddy* says guns are *great*."

Roy snickers quietly. "I'm going to go have that talk with Uncle Connor, honey."

"Okay, Daddy! Okay, Unca Connor! Be good!"

"You, too. I'll come check on you in a while."

She nods without looking away from the gun-rack high on the wall. She can't, actually, climb to it --

But she can damned well panic Dickie into *thinking* she will --

Janie already knows the drill and is waiting with the last of the broccoli --

And Connor's impatient enough to be putting a little pressure on his back. Not *much*... but.

Roy smiles and turns to kiss him, brief and hard --

Connor's eyes widen just a *little* --

Yeah. Roy walks them out into the hall and *then* pushes his hands under the robe --

"*Roy* --"

"I *don't* have any other children."

Connor snorts. "*How* sure are you of that?"

That -- "Okay, I don't have any other children *here*," Roy says, and pinches Connor's nipples *hard* --

"Oh -- *God* -- let's get to my *room* --"

"Yeah, brother. *Your* room. Where you belong."

Connor pants and does his own glittering. "Some would say I belong in Star City."

"They'd be wrong," and Roy twists again --

"*Nnh* --"

Again --

"Oh -- please --"

"You belong *right* here, brother. Where I can see you. Where I can hear you. Where I can *touch* you."

Connor pants and covers Roy's hands with his own -- and never stops walking backwards and *staring* at him --

"Want you bad, brother..."

"I -- you know how I feel --"

"Are you backsliding on me, Connor?" And Roy scrapes Connor's nipples with his thumbnails *lightly* --

"Roy --"

"Answer me --"

"*Whiplash* --"

Roy grins and raises his eyebrows. "We can play that game, too --"

"No -- no games," Connor says, and looks at him *hard*. "Not tonight."

Roy takes a breath and pushes open Connor's door. "Yeah?"

"No *games*," and he walks in and *yanks* Roy close --

Roy kicks the door shut behind them -- "Tell me what that means, brother --"

"Nothing --" Connor frowns and shakes his head. "No lies --"

"I'll *never* lie to you --"

"Nothing you don't want --"

"I want *everything* with you --"

"*Roy*, I -- I don't know how to *express* it!"

Roy frowns and tries to think with his *big* head --

But nothing's happening until he gets Connor's robe off him and onto the floor, gets his own robe off and yanks Connor close again --

Seizes for the sound and feel of Connor's *shuddery* breath against his ear --

"Oh, brother, you..." Roy licks his lips and licks Connor's cheek, his mouth --

"Roy --"

"I'll teach you how to make love *while* playing --"

"Please --"

"But not tonight," Roy says, and *grips* Connor's hip with one hand and the back of his head with the other, kisses him hard, kisses him deep, kisses him right back to the bed and *doesn't* remember how hard the damned thing is until he's midway through dropping them on it --

But Connor just groans through the bounce and yanks Roy closer, shoves his hands in Roy's hair --

And this kiss is wet, open-mouthed and *loud* --

And louder than that when Roy starts to grind. They *weren't* hard, but that's not gonna last even a *little*. Not if he has anything to do with it --

Connor sucks Roy's tongue --

Grunts and bites Roy's lip --

Shakes his *head* --

"Tell me -- "

"I want -- I --"

"You can *have* what you want," Roy says, pressing down on Connor's shoulders and *fucking* against his cock --

"Oh -- oh, *damn* --"

Roy grins. "I get a damn for that? What'll it take to get a *fuck*?"

And -- yeah. Connor's burning up at him again, panting and licking those *plush* lips. "Tell me -- tell me a fantasy, Roy --"

"Say please."

"*Please* --"

"That, right there. *That's* a fantasy," Roy says, bracing himself and spreading Connor's legs with his own --

"Oh, *God* --"

"Making you beg for it. Making you *need* to beg for it," Roy says, and gives himself *over* to the feel of that hardening cock, that slick-and-getting-*slicker* cock --

"Your -- *ladder* --"

"Does it hurt, brother?"

"*Yes* --"

Roy slows down, eases *up* --

And then Connor's strong hands are on his hips, yanking and *demanding* --

"You want the pain, brother?"

"I want *you* --"

"No. Answer the question."

Connor grunts, eyes widening again as he twitches, *flexes* -- "I want the pain --"

"That's another fantasy right there --"

"Making me *admit* things?"

"Hot things. *Dirty* things. *Good* things --"

"Roy, please, *more* --"

"You got it," he says, and braces himself on Connor's shoulder with his left hand while reaching down with the right to grip Connor's wrist and *yank* it up over his head. "Another fantasy."

"Do you -- you want me to... submit?"

"*Fuck*, yes --"

"Then --"

"*Wait*," Roy says, and forces himself to stop grinding, stop *squeezing* --

Connor shudders and groans like he's *hurt* -- "*Please*, Roy!"

And he was thinking --

Thinking with *both* heads, and he has to make this good, has to make this *right* --

"No games."

"*Yes* --"

"That means -- that means you can't *play* this, brother. That means you can't say anything or *do* anything that doesn't feel right and true and *perfect* to you --"

"Roy, I *want* you --"

"And I want you. *Bad*. And this is where *I* need there to not be any games."

Connor pants --

Stares at him --

And nods. "But -- if I feel a certain way... if the words *come* to me --"

"Say them. And drive me *crazy*," Roy says, and kisses that soft mouth, hot mouth, *best* mouth --

Licks it and grabs Connor's other wrist, brings them together --

And *shouts* for the feel of Connor wrapping his long, strong legs around his waist --

*Locking* his legs there --

"*Connor* --"

"I want -- I want to *hold* you --"

"Should I --"

"Don't let *go*, Roy, and -- *please*," he says, and he looks almost angry, overheated and *hungry* --

"Tell me --"

"Tell me more *fantasies* --"

"You on your knees --"

"Oh --"

"Your *hands* and knees, and I'm all over your beautiful back, I'm licking you and biting you --" Roy growls and thrusts faster, *harder* -- "I'm -- you're *bloody* --"

"I -- very nearly said 'fuck'. Well, I suppose I just did --"

"Do you *like* it?"

"I've never *wished* I was bleeding before, Roy!"

Roy grins and tries and fails to flip his hair back out of his face. "Anything, anytime, *anywhere*."

And Connor's hands flex --

He narrows his eyes and grips *harder* with his thighs, and just --

"Thought about fucking your thighs, brother. Thought about -- making you flex for me, showing you -- *warning* you about what you'd get when you were ready for me. When I'd *made* you ready for me --"

"For your penis --"

"Hell, yeah. Wanna bury myself *deep*, brother, fill you up and *ride* you --"

"God -- *do* it!"

"Can't --"

"Don't *tease* me -- *mmph* --"

And the kiss isn't one of his best, but it *is* one of his hardest, most brutal --

God, he's *abusing* Connor's mouth, and knowing that just makes him pull back so he can do it more, bite it and *pull* on those lips --

No, suck them --

No, nuzzle, grind his face against Connor's until he can feel Connor twitching and leaking more --

*More* --

"Roy --"

"*Love* you --"

"Roy, *please* --"

"Connor --"

And then he's on his back and Connor is straddling him, and Roy's reflexes are good enough that he *can* keep a grip on Connor's wrists, but the look on Connor's face --

He lets go --

"Take -- *fuck* me!"

Roy squeezes his eyes shut --

"We both *want* it --"

"How bad."

"What?"

Roy opens his eyes again. "How *bad* have you wanted it?"

"I -- I've thought about it for the better part of a *year* --"

"What did you *do* about those thoughts, brother?"

Connor blinks -- and blushes. Roy can *feel* it. "I never -- I don't have... toys."

Roy blows out a breath. "And your fingers?"

"I -- two. At times --"

"How much did it *hurt*?"

"Well, Dad filled my bedside table with lubricant after the second time I mentioned spending time with Kyle, so -- not much?"

Roy licks his lips. Swallows. And grabs the lube *he'd* bought for Connor out of the bedside table --

"Oh -- *Roy* --"

"Now is *not* the time to complain, brother."

Connor's jaw drops -- "I suppose not. What -- no," Connor says, and moves to kneel beside Roy before dropping down onto his hands. "Like this."

Roy stares. Just --

Broad shoulders.

Dark skin slick with sweat.

Hard cock hanging -- dripping. Roy wraps his fist around it and squeezes just as hard as Connor had made him do it before --

"Oh -- *God*, Roy --"

"You're beautiful."

"I... I feel --"

"You're beautiful every minute of every *fucking* day, brother, but like this? You're *blinding*," and Roy lets go and offers Connor his hand --

And Connor starts licking it right away, starts -- kissing and sucking --

*Rubbing* like he was doing when he was *drugged*, and there's a kind of *thrill* of fear for that --

Something like the ghost of *responsibility* --

But Roy knows he's not gonna stop. He knows --

He might not shove *in* --

Roy laughs softly and takes his hand back --

"Roy...?"

"Just cracking myself up, brother. Making myself promises about what I *won't* do to you."

"Oh -- *don't* --"

"Don't worry," Roy says, and slicks his fingers *fast*. "I already know I won't keep any of 'em."

Connor grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. "I -- I need --" And Connor growls and reaches back with one hand to spread himself. "Please."

"God -- Connor --"

"*Please* --"

In, then, just one finger, just one --

And Connor groans for it like it's three, like it's a cock, something hot and ready just for him --

Just for *them* --

He's so *hot* inside --

He's clenching up *tight*, and --

Fuck.

Roy growls, long and low just like Ollie used to when he wanted to get the flavor of the week good and juicy in company --

Just like Kal does when he wants Roy a certain *kind* of needy --

*Desperate* --

And Connor clenches *harder* --

So tight so hot so *good* --

Flexes *open* --

"*Roy*!"

Yeah, 'cause he's not waiting to thrust, to fuck, to *take* --

"Oh -- oh, that *feeling* --"

"Different with someone else doing it?"

"*Yes*!"

"I know, brother. *Believe* me, I do," and Roy crooks his finger and *drags* --

Connor shouts --

And does it again --

And does it again when Roy presses hard --

"*Please*! Please *more*!"

Roy shudders and nods --

Remembers that Connor can't *see* him --

"I won't stop, brother," and Roy starts thrusting again, fast and *hard*. "Not until I need to give you another finger."

Connor nods and pants --

Moans and keeps his *mouth* open for another --

Squeezes his eyes shut and *grunts* as he clenches. "I can't -- I can't believe --" He shakes his head, and Roy knows he's blushing again, needing --

"It's good."

"*Yes*," and Connor laughs breathlessly -- "*Better* --"

"Tell me your *fantasies*."

Connor moans again and shakes his head --

"*Connor* --"

"No -- I -- I'm not *saying* no -- oh -- oh, *please*, Roy --"

God, he's *twisting* his finger --

He's gotta at least work the slick *around* --

"C'mon, Connor, give it to me --"

"*Anything* -- I -- you massage me. You use the massage oil Bruce gave me --"

Roy stops --

"*Roy* --"

"He did *what*?"

"Oh -- God, Roy --"

"He gave you --"

"*Roy*. *Fuck* me."

"But --"

"I *asked* him for it. We were talking about *physical therapy* --"

Roy thinks about it --

About the fact that his cock is yelling *and* screaming -- two completely different things --

About --

"*Please*, brother, I won't *leave* you for him! Ever!"

About that, apparently. And -- fuck. Roy doesn't blush often, but he's sure as hell doing it now. "Uh -- sorry --"

Connor's laugh manages to be breathless and gentle at the same time. "You definitely don't have to use that massage oil --"

"It's scented, isn't it."

"Yes --"

"It's *perfectly* scented for *your* body, isn't it."

"I... hadn't thought... I suppose it is somewhat flattering. Certainly, Mia thinks so -- Roy. *Please*. *Focus*."

Roy coughs a laugh. "I'm *extremely* sorry, and -- I'm going. To. Make it. Up. To. *You*," Roy says, thrusting *hard* for every pause --

"Oh -- *oh*!"

"Tell me more, brother. Tell me what I do after I've got you all *loose*."

Connor groans -- "I -- *this* --"

"In this position?"

"I'm -- on my stomach --"

"Can you keep from grinding if I push you down?"

"Push --" Connor shakes his head --

Shudders all *over* --

"C'mon, brother, answer me --"

"No -- no, I can't --"

"Then stay *right* where you are."

"Oh, Roy..." And Connor swallows and gasps, *grips* at the blanket they're *gonna* stain the hell out of --

"Right here. Right -- mm. Do I give you two fingers?"

"*Please* --"

"In the *fantasy*."

"God --" Connor pants. "Right *away*."

"Then that's what you're gonna get. Breathe *right*."

Connor laughs. "*How*?"

"You're *allowed* to have willpower for *good* things," Roy says, and crooks his finger again --

Twitches for Connor's *shout* --

But Connor is *exactly* good enough to start evening out his breathing as soon as Roy stops pressing --

To *keep* it even while Roy *rocks* his finger --

Pours more slick right *on* that tight little hole --

It won't be tight for much *longer* -- God -- "Just so you know, brother? I totally wouldn't have freaked if you'd gotten massage oil from, say, *Clark*."

Connor snorts --

Roy aims --

"Roy --"

*Pushes* --

"*Roy*!"

"See, for *one* thing," Roy says, and laughs again, because -- "for *one* thing, I'm *mostly* talking to keep myself from screaming and *humping*, because you're so tight I wanna *cry* --"

"Oh -- *please* --"

"Dickie. Dickie said Tim *wasn't* tight --"

Connor *grunts* --

"*Think* about that orgy, brother. And... where was I?"

"*Inside* me. Roy, your fingers are so *big* --"

"They just feel that way, brother, beautiful brother -- God, Clark has lube that makes this *easier*."

"I -- what?"

"Muscle relaxants. Kryptonian *magic*, really -- fuck, I can go get some --"

"No, don't *leave* --"

"It would only take -- oh, Jesus, that *clench* --"

"Stay *here*. I can't -- I can't take --" And Connor lets his head hang and pants, shudders -- "Please."

"God, my fantasy -- I won't go *anywhere*. I won't -- I need you too *bad* for that, brother," and Roy grips Connor's hip and starts to thrust again, starts to rock the way he wants to --

The way he *needs* to with his cock --

And now Connor is panting rhythmically, sweating more, slick and shiny in the light from the warm little lamp Roy had picked up in the Village --

Moving for it --

*Groaning* for it --

"Oh, that's good, Connor, that's so good --"

"*Inside*."

"*Exactly* where I wanna be --"

"Roy. I want..." Connor shudders and hangs his head again, pants --

"Tell me, tell me *everything* --"

"I want *more*."

And that --

He can't. He has to think about how *tight* Connor is, how full he *has* to feel --

"*Please*, Roy..."

He has to think about how easy this *won't* be --

Even with Connor *moving* like this --

Faster --

*Working* himself, his sweet little ass --

Roy can see the *bruise* Grace left, and right now that's just making him want more --

*Connor* wants more --

"Wanna give you *everything*, brother --"

Connor groans again --

Nods and shudders and -- Jesus, starts to work his hips in tight little circles, and --

"Want you to fuck *me*, Connor --"

Connor chokes on a laugh -- "I -- I'm beginning to feel *greedy* --"

Roy laughs, too. "I *like* you that way --"

"*More* -- *NNH* --"

"That's what it feels like when I really *move* two fingers in you --"

"Oh -- oh, Roy --"

"Should I --"

"*Again*."

And now he's doing his own sweating, his own -- "You're making me *hurt*, brother --"

"*Please* --"

"You're making me -- it's not *like* all the other times I've hurt for you. I can smell you. I can *feel* you --"

"Love -- I love --" But the rest of that is a shout, because Roy can't stop himself from crooking his fingers --

*Working* his fingers *faster* even though Connor is clenching up so *tight* --

Connor sobs --

He does it *again* --

"*Connor* --"

"Please don't *stop*, brother --"

God -- "You gonna come for me?"

Connor *laughs* and sobs -- "*Yes*."

And this growl isn't remotely on purpose --

"Oh -- *yes*, Roy --"

"Want -- I *need* to be inside you for that --"

Connor grunts again, *tosses* his head --

"So *beautiful* --"

And then *Connor* growls and starts *shoving* himself back onto Roy's fingers, working so fast and hard that it's challenging to stay in, keep the *angle* right --

"Don't --"

"*No*, Roy --"

"Don't *torture* yourself --"

"I *want* --" And Connor cries out --

Does it again --

Does it --

And of *course* Roy is giving him that mean little twist again, making him *feel* --

God, Kal only does this to him when he wants Roy crazy, desperate --

Connor is shuddering again, sobbing and *struggling* to work his hips in rhythm -- he can't. He *can't*, and the twitch of his cock tells Roy everything he needs to know, but --

"Say please again --"

"*Please*!"

"Make -- fuck, make a *lot* of noise," Roy says, and pulls out slow, slow --

Connor tries to hold *on* to him, and it feels like he's doing the torturing, like he's a tease in the *bad* way --

"*Soon*, brother --"

Connor sobs *loudly* and nods --

And Roy's out and slicking himself, *working* himself a little --

"*Roy*..."

Pouring on more lube than can possibly make a *difference* and stroking it all over, all --

"Please, please, I can *hear* that --"

"Know you can, just --"

"*Tease* --"

"This -- this will *hurt* --"

"*Open* me --"

"I --" Roy blinks. "My fingers --"

"*No*. You -- all of you -- your *soul*."

Roy groans and tries to think of some way to take this, some way to do anything but let it roll right over him --

He needs --

"Connor -- brother, I need a little *control* --"

And he could've guessed Connor would growl for that, reach back and spread himself again -- "*Now*, brother!"

Roy *whimpers* -- "I love you --"

"I *know* --"

"I'll do -- anything --" But it feels hollow and like a *lie* when all he's doing is lining himself up --

Pushing --

*Pushing*, and -- "You're so *tight*."

"I --" But the rest of that is just a shout as Connor shakes --

As the head of Roy's cock *pops* in --

"*Roy*!"

"Oh -- *God*, Connor, you can -- you can say *no* --"

"*No*," and Connor is scrabbling for Roy's hip, scratching and clawing and *pulling* --

"Oh, *Jesus*, *wait* --"

"I can't, I *can't* --" And Connor gasps and goes *silent* --

Because Roy had just shoved --

God, all the way --

The heat is just --

The *clench* --

"Roy..."

Roy tries to breathe and it's just a whine, high and tight as a fucking garrote --

He has to say something, *do* something other than *flex* --

"Oh, *Roy*..."

Rub Connor everywhere he can reach, touch his perfect --

Perfect body --

"I feel -- I feel your *ladder*..."

Roy *whimpers* -- "I meant -- to take it out --"

Connor laughs, low and sweet and so rich, thick like -- like *syrup* -- "If you pull out now, I'll be very -- upset --"

"*Connor* --"

"*Stay*."

And a part of Roy's mind --

An *extremely* problematic part of Roy's mind --

It's just that Kal's version of puppy play is so damned *compelling*, and the collar strokes you *back* --

And Roy is laughing *and* gasping, holding *on* --

"*Tell* me, Roy --"

"Uh. Clark is *definitely* a pervert. That's -- that's all."

*Connor* laughs and gasps -- "Oh."

Roy licks his lips. "Yeah?"

"It... you feel *deeper*."

Roy licks his lips and tries -- no. He *rocks* --

"*Roy* --"

"You're loosening up. *Relaxing*."

"I -- I don't *want* to --"

"Connor --"

"I want *this* feeling," he says, and then they're shouting together for Connor's clench --

Connor's rough *squeeze* --

"Jesus, brother --"

"I want -- I want to *curse* --"

"Then *do* it --"

"*Fuck* me, do it hard, do it -- oh -- oh, *please* --"

And yeah, he's rocking faster, *moving* Connor a little --

"*Please* --"

Flushing and *needing*, needing just what he's *getting* --

"*Roy* --"

"Gotta -- have to *give* it to you, brother, make you -- make you *feel* --"

"I *do* feel --"

"*More*," Roy says, only that was more of a growl, and he's gripping Connor's hip --

Squeezing so *hard* -

So --

"*Ohn* --"

And yeah, that was more of a thrust -- "Do I do that --"

"*Again* --"

"Fuck *me*, you're so right, so beautiful --"

"*Please*, Roy --"

"Right now," says the part of Roy that doesn't care about anything but making this perfect, making this perfect the right *way* --

The sweetest possible *fuck* --

Cock buried deep and *pushing* --

One hand on Connor's hip and the other hand wrapped tight around Connor's cock --

And Connor screams in *surprise* --

"You weren't expecting how that would feel --"

"Not -- you're *inside* --"

"*Fucking* you --"

"*Harder*!"

And there's a part of Roy which only wants to point out that Connor has no idea what he's really *asking* for --

But that's not the part in control now, that's --

That's not the part that's *moving*, grinding and shoving and looking for the good rhythm, the best --

"You feel so *perfect*, brother --"

And Roy thinks that was *supposed* to be his name, but it comes out garbled, half-strangled --

Sweet and *tight* like the heat on his cock --

Perfect *friction*, and now Connor is *yanking* on the blanket, groaning loud and heavy --

*Shaking* --

And Roy wants his voice, wants him to *talk* --

But he remembers the first time Dick fucked him --

The first time he'd gotten fucked *period* --

Remembers shaking and *begging* on his hands and knees because it was so good, so much of what he wanted all at *once* --

And giving Connor that feeling is a dream too sweet not to be *harsh*, too heavy and sharp --

Connor is gasping and *crooning* --

"God, *brother* --" But he doesn't have anything that comes after that, doesn't --

He's *got* the rhythm now, smooth and just a little vicious, something to *make* Connor move for him, make him rock --

And shout --

And shout *more* when Roy squeezes his cock and Connor *has* to move for it, has to fuck Roy's fist even though it means he's shoving himself back into the fuck --

Because he has to?

There's so much he can't *know* right now, and every time Roy makes love there's at least one moment like this, one moment where he thinks he'd give *anything* to be able to crawl inside, push deeper, feel and know and *see* --

(<<But there is always a distance, beloved son. Even for us. Even for *me*.>>)

God, *Kal* --

And knowing that he's dealt with this distance before --

Knowing that he's felt it countless times and *will* feel it countless more, please, fuck, as long as he *lives* --

It's not enough to keep him from needing right now, from pleading with every thrust, every stroke --

"*Please*, brother!"

And Connor is shouting again, tossing his head --

Moaning and squeezing his eyes shut --

(<<And then, of course, there is the distance we make for ourselves...>>)

Is that what he's doing?

Is he -- no, there's no real question. He *is* still holding himself back, and even though he has good reason --

Even though it's *incredible* to be able to watch his brother *lose* it while still holding on to himself --

(<<There is a sacrament, beloved son. And it must be *respected*.>>)

And Roy groans for the memory of Kal's hands shaking on his hips --

And groans more for the feel of his *own* hands shaking, for the *knowledge* that he's bruising Connor's hip --

That Connor won't even *feel* it until it's over --

It can't be *over*, and --

Wouldn't this rhythm be better? A little sweeter?

Something --

Roy makes his strokes longer, makes his thrusts *harder* --

Connor *gurgles* -- "*Roy*!"

And it's what he needed, the pressure the *last* shred of control he was holding onto needed before it could blow right the hell *apart* --

"*Please*!"

God, yes, God --

And Connor shouts when Roy drops them --

Beats the bed with his fists when Roy spreads his legs wider, so much wider --

"*Roy* --"

"Say it, say my name all you --" But *he's* shouting, because Connor is clenching, humping the bed and shoving back, back, *back* --

*Chanting* Roy's name --

Getting them --

So much fucking *closer*, so much closer to perfect, and Roy can't stop, won't fucking stop for *anything* --

It *is* a sacrament, and maybe he's saying a little prayer to love -- if not to any of the *specific* love gods -- when he bites the back of Connor's neck --

When he growls and holds on while he *pumps* --

"Roy -- *Roy* --"

Just keep saying my name, just keep *calling* me, and it's so good --

So *right* to grab Connor's wrists and squeeze --

*Hard* --

And scream when Connor does, lose his grip and bite harder this time --

Scream *again* and realize that it's for those clenches, random and *vicious* --

Oh --

He's coming, he's --

And Roy has to ease the bite again, has to nuzzle and kiss -- no.

He *scrapes* the back of Connor's neck with his stubble --

Connor chokes on his own scream and starts bucking, starts going *wild* under him --

"*Yes*," Roy says, and means it, means everything, means it to be a *warning*, because now he's *bracing* himself on Connor's wrists and *driving* in, giving this to both of them --

*All* of himself --

"*Connor* --" 

Connor moans, low and *loud* --

"Connor -- Connor, *please* --"

Connor *gasps* -- "Roy, *anything* --"

Roy whimpers -- "That -- your *voice* --"

"Oh, Roy, don't -- don't stop --"

"Brother --"

"I love you so *much* --"

And Roy sobs *hard*, feels himself flushing, needing --

Needing *this* --

"Roy, it's all right, it's --" Connor laughs -- "It's perfect, incredible --"

"Burn -- you --"

"*Yes*, brother, and the fire of it is -- phenomenal, incredible -- ow -- and so is that *bite* --"

And Roy nods and holds on so he doesn't have to *cry* his way through this, through what happens when Connor *remembers* he can --

Clench --

On --

*Purpose* --

Roy's sobbing anyway, eyes tearing, sweating all over for how sweet --

"Roy..."

How *sweet* --

"*Come*, brother," and Connor *holds* the clench --

The friction --

The burn for both of them --

And the way it flares up high and hot and fucking *mean* as Roy's vision goes white and everything he is now and will ever be shoots right out of his twitching, spasming, *flexing* cock --

"*Yes*, Roy!"

Yes --

*Yes* --

And they're shuddering together, breaking each other right down --

Or maybe that's just him, because Connor is still saying things in his low, warm voice, but Roy can't understand a *word* --

Can't do anything but shudder and --

Float and --

*Drop*, knocking the air out of Connor's body and the *mind* out of his own --

No, it was still there, because *that* was the feel of it leaking right out of him for Connor's *purr*.

Jesus.

Roy kisses the back of Connor's neck again, licks away sweat and saliva --

"Will I bruise there, do you think?"

"You -- are using language. And I think that's a good thing," Roy says, and goes back to licking for a while --

Connor *chuckles* --

And, eventually, Roy can smile and nuzzle --

And listen to Connor sigh --

And *bark* when Connor clenches --

"Oh -- hm. Sorry?" Another laugh --

Roy bites lightly and growls --

Connor sighs. "That was perfectly wonderful, in case I haven't been clear."

"You were incredible. I..." Roy shakes his head and nuzzles a little more.

"Roy?"

"I can't... I'm not quite *back* in my body yet, brother. Sorry about that --"

"Oh -- *no*," Connor says, twisting his left wrist free and reaching back to stroke Roy's hip. "I'm hardly entirely... ah... what *is* the word I'm looking for?"

Roy laughs. "Ask me in five minutes."

"I'd rather you not *rush* -- oh, Roy, I want to see your *face*."

"I can pull out --"

"Not *yet* -- or. Tell me what *you* need."

"Connor --"

"*Roy*."

"God, I love it when you use the command voice, brother, and -- okay," Roy says, and slides his hands beneath Connor's body so he can cup his shoulders from the back --

"Oh -- I like that."

Roy smiles. "Good. 'cause it's exactly what I need."

"Then relax. Please."

"I gotta let you get out of the wet spot --"

"It's still *warm* --"

"I gotta let you breathe --"

"I can get *enough* air, Roy. *Please*."

"God, you make for incredible fantasies," Roy says, and resettles himself --

And Connor sighs and rests on his right cheek --

Roy kisses the left --

And they stay there, just like that, while Roy does his best to get a little cohesion back, a little of what will let him be more than the fucked-out aging vigilante with the hottest brother --

*Brothers* --

Roy grins and just -- feels.

Warm skin, drying sweat, the scent of come, Connor petting him, the feel of his cock softening enough to start slipping out --

And the under-thing, the thing they're sharing just by breathing together, slowing down and down until they're *almost* in time. Connor's just a little calmer than he is, and that's perfect, too.

*Correct* like certain kinds of Kryptonian speech used at certain times, like bodies at rest after *being* in motion, bodies *together* --

Brothers together --

And it gets even better when Connor lets go of him and rests his head on his hands, breathes just a little faster to *join* Roy --

"Love you, brother."

Connor smiles. "And I love you. And I feel very, very foolish for not having predicted *this*."

Roy raises his eyebrows. "The cuddle?"

"Ah... yes?"

"Connor --"

"*Before* you say anything, yes, you *have* mentioned the large amount of physical affection you grew accustomed to as a Titan --"

"Multiple *times* --"

"*But*... you were speaking of sexuality *every* time. *Sometimes* you spoke of the more filial sorts of affection, but it always seemed rather like an afterthought."

And that feeling is -- chagrin. "I don't know what I would've done without all the hugs, brother."

Connor hums. "Certainly, *your* hugs have always been perfectly wonderful."

Heh. "Even the ones with my erection right there begging for a little attention?"

"Or a lot, as the case may be. Yes, even those, brother."

"For your fantasies?"

"Mm-hm. Of course, I'll have to edit them a bit."

Roy grins and squeezes Connor's shoulders. "For the ladder?"

"For the sensation of being taken -- *fucked* -- so hard I frankly couldn't *see*."

Roy's cock twitches on *cue* -- "Uh. *Was* I more gentle in your fantasies?"

"Yes... but only in the physical sense. Emotionally..." Connor sighs with pleasure. "That was wonderful, brother. And I always knew I'd have to be... convincing about how you chose to treat my body," Connor says, and smiles a little sharply.

And that -- "Gotta take *care* of you, brother --"

"I'm not *that* much younger than you, Roy."

"I --"

"And I'm not truly complaining. I could *feel* it when you let go of your control, and it was better than anything I could have imagined -- the more so for it being something I *had* to fight for."

Well. "You're not gonna have to put up much of a fight in the future."

"No...?"

Roy grins, knowing Connor can at least see the edge of it. "Now I know what you can *take*."

Connor hums. "So you do. Though... I do wonder what I'll be able to take in the *near* future."

"Heh. We can take it a little easy --"

Connor clenches --

"*Fuck*, Connor --"

And Connor groans. "I -- goodness. That was rather a *loud* feeling."

Roy laughs -- and does his own groaning for the feel of himself slipping all the way out. "I think you scared my cock away."

"Roy."

"Hey, it's *sensitive*, brother."

Connor snorts and flips them --

Wrestles them around until they're face to face --

And bites Roy's lower lip hard while staring into his eyes. When he lets go --

"I'm listening."

Connor hums. "How long before you should check on Lian?"

"Well, every time I leave her with Dick for more than an hour, Dick starts gazing hungrily at my projectile weapons, so... another forty-five or so?"

"You don't think he'd really --"

"Nah. But I like telling myself that it's possible, anyway."

Connor nods. "You'd like him to be safer out there."

"Really, really yes. But then -- he's the best there is in a lot of ways. At a certain point, I have to admit I'm just paranoid."

"I believe you're allowed, brother."

Roy grins. "Does that mean I can teach *you* how to shoot?"

"Hmm. An opportunity to be close to you while learning how to handle beautiful and well-loved weapons. What could possibly appeal about that...?"

"Heh, c'mere," Roy says, and pulls Connor close. They kiss on their sides, slow and warm and right and *real* --

Connor laughs into his mouth -- but shakes his head and pulls Roy into another kiss when Roy starts to move back.

He can go with that.

end.



You probably think I don't care about what you have to say because you're just some random stranger on the internet. That might be true for some writers, but... I'm a total fucking whore. Please keep that in mind.
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