Is there in truth no beauty?
by Te
May 11, 2013

Disclaimers: Pretty much nothing here is mine. I am *fully* aware of this fact.

Spoilers/Timeline: Vague, AU-ized mentions for older storylines. There's some Red Hood canon in here, but not all that much. Takes place... hmm... somewhat outside this timeline, so I'll just say that Tim is seventeen and Jason is nineteen.

Summary: "Help -- please."

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

Author's Note: I was talking with SV about the dwindling amounts of sex pollen being posted in fandom, and my heart was wounded. WOUNDED, I say. I blithered about my love for the cliché at length -- as I am wont to do -- and mentioned that I'd been trying to figure out a decent Pollinated!Jay bunny since 2005 or so... and then this bunny hit.

Hallelujah.

Acknowledgments: Much love to Pixie, Mildred, Melissa, Nonie, Greyandgold, Spice, and my Jack, who provided audiencing, encouragement, loud noises, and, as always, many helpful suggestions. All must hail.

Length: 28,000 words.

*

Gotham was never supposed to be a place where the vigilantes had more to fear from themselves than from the -- ever vigorous and horrifying -- criminal element. Tim believes that with all of himself, despite having spent years being *Bruce's* partner, because the thing about working from the shadows is that they can hold *many* people.

Bruce had proven that time and again, increasing the size of his family more seemingly every few months -- and seemingly *despite* himself. While shadows are not always -- or even often -- *warm* places, they can still be quite *congenial*.

Until one has a fucking *kris* aimed at one's fucking *eye*. Still, they've all had just a *little* time to get used to the new and... *new* Jason Todd, and so Tim's bo is pressed *firmly* to Jason's Adam's apple. It's *possible* that Jason could still get the better of him in the next several seconds -- but.

"I think," Tim says, and does absolutely *nothing* to regulate his tone, "that this is where we *talk*."

Jason narrows his eyes behind his domino and -- pants.

Pants? Tim gives himself permission to take in *more* of the man than just the nuances of his -- rageful -- expression and his loose-limbed --

But he's not loose-limbed. He's *tensed*, all over, and --

Tim was *expecting* his loose-limbed predator's stance, because that's all he's ever *seen* of Jason -- even in the months since they've *stopped* fighting each other at every turn -- but this... no. He focuses more, and takes in the sweat at Jason's temples *and* on his cheeks, the torn jacket and armor -- he has a thin slash on his upper left bicep that's gummed with dried blood -- the *awkward* hold on the kris, the -- tremor.

"All right, no. This is where *you* talk. What --"

"Tim."

And -- it's just a word. Quiet, low. Half-bitten off. It's --

The tremor is more of a shake now. It's... all over him.

This could get dangerous in more than just the *usual* way. This -- Tim shakes his head once, ignoring the small scream of the kris against his scratch-proof lens. "Red --"

"*Tim*. I --" Jason snarls and *moves*, throwing the kris away *awkwardly*, and he's fast, he's strong, he's blocking every one of Tim's jabs and strikes with the bo, blocking *hard* even though it will hurt him *more* than just using Tim's own momentum, force --

He's *obviously* drugged, and this --

The protocol is a simple one, and it's always the same -- ally, enemy, civilian, *or* individual you're not at all sure of: Gentle, thorough take-down; followed with gentle, thorough restraints; followed with a trip to a medical professional. Or to whichever one of them is close enough and *trained* enough to *act* like a medical professional. He knows what he has to do. He --

He'll be able to do this *better* if he fights harder *now*, so he pours it on, using *all* of his speed to punish Jason for his blocks, using -- many of -- the things he'd learned from Shiva to punish *more* --

Jason looks *desperate* -- but he never pulls his guns, despite the shake in his limbs getting worse, making him almost *clumsy* --

Is he fatigued? Hurt? What was he *dosed* with? How -- no, not yet, it's not *time* for that kind of question, as opposed to it being time for this spin that he *knows* has numbed at least most of Jason's gloved right hand --

A dance back to avoid the kick that has to come, must --

It doesn't come. It doesn't --

Jason is just *standing* there now. Staring with his left hand fisted and his right hanging -- uselessly? -- at his side. He is shaking. Panting. And, the last time Tim had seen a smile like that, it had been on someone *dying* from one of the Joker's toxins. It's --

Fuck. He needs to -- he needs to end this, and if Jason is standing down... "Red --"

"*Don't*!"

Okay... "I... shouldn't say your name?"

The smile gets worse --

The *shaking* gets worse --

And Jason growls. And *stares*. It's --

Tim can *feel* that stare, and feel the way it changes, or -- no, that's just the smile, relaxing -- no, he can't use that word. The smile is *loosening* on Jason's face, and --

Jason is taking deep breaths.

Tim takes one of his own. "That's good, R-- ah. Jason." And he raises an eyebrow behind the mask.

Jason growls again --

"Or *not* --"

"Don't -- fuck." And that -- was a laugh. It's low and cracked and full of *pain*, but it was still a laugh.

"Do you think --"

"No."

Tim -- feels himself pursing his lips and fights *back* the annoyance.

Jason *pants* -- and laughs again.

Tim raises his *eyebrow* again --

"Lemme -- Jesus fucking *Christ*, I can -- I can tell I'm fucked --" And Jason *staggers* back, covering his face with his left hand, and --

Well. "Technically, that was an entire sentence *and* a distinct lack of inappropriate violence. I call that *marked* improvement."

"I wasn't going to -- I wanted -- *fuck* --" And the growl is low and *lengthy*. It's deep enough to almost sound like one of *Bruce's*, and -- Jason isn't staggering anymore. He's covering his *face*, but he's standing *still*.

And Tim can feel Jason staring at him, even though he's covering his eyes. It's --

It's a lot like --

Tim frowns and focuses, moving into a defensive ready position rather than a combative one. "Let me help you."

Jason inhales sharply -- and makes a small sound. And doesn't say a word.

"Let me -- we don't have to go to the Cave if --"

"Help me," Jason says, and his voice is -- small. Dark and --

He's still covering his *face* --

"Help -- please."

That --

The *intelligent* thing to do, right now, would be to shoot Jason in the neck with a tranquilizer dart while he's not *looking*.

And then shoot him in the leg -- he *knows* there's no armor under those pants --

And then shoot him somewhere else.

He can't do that. He can't risk adverse *reactions*, because even the *friendliest* sedatives in his belt -- the ones Bruce almost certainly built a tolerance for in Jason *years* ago -- have nasty reactions with *some* other drugs and toxins. He --

He can't even risk making Jason lose consciousness the old-*fashioned* way --

Damn it. "I'll help you," Tim says, and -- folds his staff. He doesn't put it *away* --

The attack doesn't come.

And doesn't come --

And doesn't come even when he moves in --

*Movement*, and --

And he didn't need to know this about himself. He didn't *fucking* need to *know* that he'd go for a -- pulled, but *still* -- *throat*-strike instead of anything else, anything better, anything *protocol* --

But that can't actually distract him from the fact that Jason is cupping the back of his head and sniffing his *hair*.

Not for very long, anyway. He --

Jason's other hand is on Tim's *hip* --

"Ah. I'm reasonably sure one of us should be apologizing to the other one," Tim says, and tries very, very hard to stop digging his gauntleted fingertips in --

It's not like he *wants* to *kill* the love of Bruce's *life* --

Who is still sniffing his hair.

He -- hm. Has he *noticed* that he was about to be either dead or given an amateurish -- if heartfelt -- tracheotomy? "Jason."

"I --" Sniff. "I knew it." Sniff. Sniff. "Always fucking knew you -- nnh." *Long* sniff -- "Had it in you."

Tim opens his mouth -- and closes it, because he's learned not to trust himself to say intelligent things while he's blushing. Intelligence, he thinks, would be *useful* --

"*Always* fucking -- you're too fucking --" Jason growls and licks Tim's *ear*. That.

He. All right. "I'm beginning to have my suspicions about what you were dosed with."

Jason laughs -- painfully. "Are ya? *That's* good," and he turns Tim's head --

"Jason -- fuck --"

"Do you like that." And it's *breathed* against the wet spot *behind* Tim's ear. Where he had licked. He --

That -- "Jason. You. You have to let me help --"

"I don't fucking *have* to --" But then Jason groans and shudders and rubs his *cheek* against Tim's forehead --

"It's -- I'll call someone *else* to help you --"

"Don't --"

"Jason --"

"I asked you for something once."

Tim blinks. "You haven't --"

("Be *my* Robin.")

"All right, you've asked me for -- I'm not sure if you've noticed this, given how you've spent your *time* in Gotham this past year, but being Robin tends to involve *less* wildly inappropriate gay sex than it used to."

Jason *snorts* --

A part of Tim can only thrill for getting the *laugh* --

The rest of him wonders if Jason is contagious. It --

He pulls back, twisting away from Jason's grip --

"Don't --"

"Jason."

"Fuck. *Fuck* --" And Jason punches his thighs with both hands. It's --

Dick had told Tim, when Tim was fifteen and in need of more than *one* brother, that it was the first of Jason's tells he'd known with all of himself. He --

("Not that he was ever *subtle*, but -- God, that one..."

"He... would do it when he was angry?"

"He would do it when he was angry at *himself*, little brother. When he felt like -- when at least a part of him felt like *all* of him was a failure.")

Tim holds back a wince by main force. Jason is -- too naked right now. Tim has to be professional, and -- professional. "Jason," he says, in the voice he saves for jumpers and children --

"*Christ*, Tim, not -- I'm that bad?" And Jason looks at him *pleadingly* -- but still with humor. He -- "What the fuck am I saying, of *course* I'm that fucking bad --" And Jason beats at his head with the heel of his left palm --

"Don't --"

"Does any part of you -- I don't know you," Jason says, swallowing and turning away and -- *digging* the heel of his palm in against his temple --

"You -- no. You don't." That was supposed to stop hurting at some point. That -- but. "We could... talk."

Jason shudders and staggers to the wall --

"Are you --"

"Need to. I just -- need to hold something right now," Jason says, and -- holds the wall. With the hand he isn't digging into --

Bruce, at this point, would... what, exactly?

The part of Tim which is Robin, *only* Robin, young and optimistic and stalwart and *true*, is blithering happily -- *faithfully* -- about the protocol.

However, the *first* pornography Tim was ever exposed to was the sight of Jason *hugging* a gargoyle with one hand, *beating* at it with the other hand, and all but *howling* into the night as Bruce *fucked* him.

Robin-the-stalwart is, occasionally, too much of an idiot to be allowed to exist.

Bruce would -- Bruce would.

"You... should let me take you back to the Cave," Tim says, and tries to keep everything out of his voice but -- no, not that, *either* --

"Passing me off to Daddy, birdboy? Heh. Liked you better when you were just trying to kill me." And Jason -- doesn't turn around. "Get outta here --"

"Jason --"

"I'll take care of myself," Jason says, low and solid and about as believable as Dick would be if he claimed to have no idea what Roy Harper's penis looked like. He --

Tim bares his teeth. "You're still *shaking* --"

"I'm still -- fuck. Go *away* --"

"*Jason* --"

"Birdboy, the only *fucking* thing you can do for me right now is --" But Jason doesn't finish that thought so much as he claws the *wall*. And --

Occasionally, Tim can be an actual detective. The refusal of code names, the stammers, the *placement* of those stammers, the cut-off thoughts -- "You don't want to lie to me right now."

"Fucking -- I *can't*. Okay? I can't tell any fucking lies. Not one. They won't come out of my motherfucking *mouth*."

That.

It.

Tim can't --

And Jason spins to glare at him. "*Say* something! And -- what's wrong with *you*?"

"You can't... lie?"

"That's what I fucking --"

"I think. I think a significant portion of my *life* just passed before my eyes, Jason."

Jason stares at him.

"It's just -- you -- at all?" And Tim doesn't think --

Jason is still *staring* --

Tim licks his lips. Once. "I... don't think I've had this expression on my face since the time Batman gave me a choice between taking down a murdering undead monster who had previously beaten me *unconscious* and helping a woman give *birth*."

Jason *splutters* --

"I was fourteen!"

"You picked the zombie."

"I --"

"You picked the zombie *then*," Jason says, and *grins* -- "And you'd *still* pick the zombie *now*, you giant fuckin' fag."

"I would like to point out that *I* don't have a notable history of --"

"Are you out?"

To Steph. But. "I -- everyone who knows me knows."

Jason licks *his* lips --

Pants --

And presses himself back against the wall. It -- he's not quite *rubbing* himself --

"Jason --"

"That wasn't really an answer. Or was it? *Have* you had the big talk with Dick about it? And don't *tell* me he wouldn't -- wouldn't do it. He did it with me even though he *knew* I was fucking Bruce."

Well. "I -- no."

"Then you *haven't* told him. Even though he's your *brother*."

"He *knows*. *Because* he's -- my..."

"I'll... uh. I'll be with you in a minute," Jason says, and his laugh is cracked again, breathy --

He's squeezing himself --

He's squeezing his *groin* -- Tim looks *up* --

He *is* rubbing himself against the wall --

"I... fuck. I want. I want..."

"You." Tim swallows. "You can tell me --"

"Can I?" And that sounds like -- but.

Tim takes a deep breath. "I won't -- tell any of your secrets. Unless they impact on the Mission."

"Not just the Mission in my pants...?"

"I -- we've all seen things like this before, Jason. I won't -- can't -- judge you."

Jason stares at him for a long moment, but -- "Meaning you've been where I am."

"No."

"Would you tell me if you had?"

"Yes --"

"Or would you lie to me like you lie to *Dick*?"

Tim rears back. "I --"

Jason laughs and moans. "You can't -- I knew *this* about you already, birdboy. I knew -- okay, I didn't know you'd fucking *blanch* at the thought of a truth serum that actually *worked* on one of us, but I knew you were a stone cold liar."

One of -- he -- "Jason, I wasn't --"

"It just doesn't stop me from wanting to shove my tongue up your ass."

Tim -- grunts.

"Heh. Yeah. B taught me to like that -- from him. Nobody else was allowed to do me that way. Not a few other ways, either. He." Jason licks his lips and *presses* his jock against himself, wincing and tilting his *head* back -- and then snapping it forward again. "I was always *letting* him do me that way, though. I never wanted it enough to ask for it -- and B could get me to *beg* him to wash my fuckin' *hair*."

"Ah. Then. I'm... confused for even more reasons," Tim says, and congratulates himself for getting that *out* --

"Heh. Heh heh. He still made me *need* it -- from other people. I'm pretty sure I rimmed out the entire Eston cheerleader squad before I finished my freshman year. Even stupid little rich girls can be interesting if they're sweating and begging enough --"

"And stupid little rich vigilantes...?"

Jason barks a laugh and peels off his gloves, letting them drop. "Okay, point. But you're not stupid. You'd be *dead* if you were. You're a liar, and a *bitch* --"

"As an aside, *is* this the sort of seduction technique which works on Bruce? Because any number of people would like to know."

Jason *grins* -- "It totally is. He knows what a fuck-up he is, and he *loves* being called out for it. *Loves* it. It means he can stop pretending to be something he's not. It means? He can stop fucking *lying*."

Bruce does, in fact, seem to enjoy being honest with Dick and Barbara these days --but. Tim narrows his eyes. "I'm not Bruce."

Jason flares his nostrils. "You're like him, though --"

"Look, Jason, if you want --"

"I want *you*. I want -- tell me what you like. Or just --" Jason growls and scratches at his stubble -- claws at himself --

"Jason, stop --"

"Need to -- I bet you make your lovers fucking *guess*, don't you."

Does he... not *have* that intel? "I --"

"I bet you fucking --" Jason stares at his hand -- and licks it, palm to fingertips.

And does it again --

And *again* -- "Sometimes. Sometimes your own salt just has to be enough," he says, and then drags his hand down the front of his chest armor without --

Tim shivers. It's not -- it's not like he expected Jason to start *masturbating* in front of him. He isn't --

All right, it's *exactly* like a part of him had started *hoping* Jason would start masturbating in front of him, and that means there's officially a problem. He is --

He is going to have to cope, right now, and step *back* --

"*Don't* --"

Fuck -- "Jason, I'm not -- this isn't --" Tim shakes his head. "You're drugged. Even if it was a *remotely* reasonable idea for me to have sex with *you* -- and the last time *that* was true, you were *dead* -- it *isn't* a remotely reasonable idea to have sex with you when you're *not in your right mind*."

And Jason's expression is -- wounded. It's --

Not that Tim can see his *eyes*, but he can't --

He doesn't *have* to --

Tim reaches up to toggle his comm. "I'm getting you help from people who can take you without hurting --"

"Talk. Talk to me."

"Jason --"

"Please. Just that. Just -- I need --" Jason bangs his head against the *wall* --

"*Stop* --"

"I need that, too!"

Jason -- can't lie. Can't -- but. "You. You need that from me?" And his own voice is the one -- it's the one Bruce had all but *beaten* out of him because it was too soft and *small* for the *street* --

And the wounded look on Jason's face has become an *angry* look, but --

"Jason, *fuck*, look at this from my perspective!"

"I only tried to fuck you up because you were living the life I *wanted* while I was halfway across the world learning from people I fucking *hated* until I couldn't fucking *be* the person who *lived* that life!" 

Tim flushes *hard*. "That... was a large amount of honesty."

Jason snorts and snickers a little. "Yeah? *Well*? I'm as hard as I can *get* in this fucking jock -- that's nowhere *near* as good as Bruce's used to be --"

"They still are --"

"*Fuck* you. *Christ*. Why are you -- why aren't you fucking taking it *out* on me?"

Tim frowns. "I..." He shakes his head. "You want me to hurt you?"

"*Use* me. Just -- I could *feel* you, Tim, tonight and those other fucking nights. I *know* you're attracted to me. I know you're -- fucking -- I don't know what I'm *saying*, here!"

"I... think you do."

"Tim --"

"I." Tim drops his hand without touching his comm and moves close. He --

It's too close.

It's too close, and it's dangerous, and he shouldn't --

Jason doesn't --

He's not the person --

It's too *close*, and Jason just *said* he wasn't the boy he was when Tim fell in fucking *love* with him, and he --

And he's just standing there and staring down at Tim, panting and clutching the wall and wanting -- *obviously* wanting -- to clutch him. And somehow this is --

"I can't. I can't -- quite -- wrap my mind around all of this, Jason, but --"

"Please. *Please*."

"We put in a satellite Cave --"

"Two fucking *blocks* from here, but I don't want --"

"You don't want Bruce's spaces right now. I *know*. But. We can be alone there --"

Jason's *knees* buckle --

Tim *catches* him -- and pushes him against the wall again, so --

He can feel Jason's *weight* --

He should be able to feel Jason's *heat* -- no. *No* -- "I have to. I'll be able to start doing tests -- *mm* --"

Jason's mouth is so -- so *soft* --

Jason's mouth tastes like heat, tastes like spices, tastes --

Jason's tongue is thick and *gentle* in Tim's mouth, and Tim is moaning for it, letting himself be --

He's never been *kissed* by a male of the species --

*Any* species, and Tim is *aware* of the fact that he's starting to gibber in his own mind, but mostly because he knows it's his *lizard*-brain's attempt to distract him from the fact that he's sucking Jason's tongue the way Steph always -- no. Tim steps *back* --

And Jason has flipped his lenses up. His --

Even in the dim and mostly *useless* light from the gaslights, his eyes are wide, and blue, and -- blown.

Tim licks his lips. And presses his un-sucked tongue to the roof of his mouth. And licks his teeth. And leans in --

This time, Jason cups his face with his big, shaking hands --

*Hard* hands --

*Scarred* hands, and when did they start kissing again? When --

Jason is moaning and licking Tim's mouth so *hungrily*, so --

His hands are shaking on Tim's *face* --

Tim wants it *harder* -- *no*. He steps *back* --

"Please --"

"Jason --"

"I know. I know those weren't the kisses you wanted. I knew they wouldn't be," he says, and smiles ruefully.

That -- but. "They were... the kisses you wanted?"

Jason licks his lips and pants, tongue showing for a strange and strangely *squirm*-inducing --

No, *not* strange, because Tim knows what Jason wants to *do* with his tongue. He -- doesn't grunt again. "Jason -- come back with me."

"Let me get you off."

"Not -- no."

Jason flares his nostrils *again* -- "Okay, let's go."

Tim blushes *under* his flush. "I'm not -- I didn't mean --"

"Heh. Maybe you'll let me convince you," Jason says, and kind of... *rubs* his tongue on his own lower lip.

It's -- compelling, of course, and --

"Maybe you'll let me. Wanna taste your *sweat* --"

"You already *have* --"

"It's different when you've been hooking up a little while. It's always -- shoulda kissed you harder. You like it hard, don't you. You -- no, you don't have to say a word --"

"*Good* --"

"I know you do. You -- heh. You don't *live* with Bruce that long *not* getting any without coming out *needing* someone big and hard and *dark* to fucking *pound* you," Jason says, and tilts his head to the side. "Are you gonna lie about that?"

I would like, very much, to tell you about my masturbatory habits -- no. "I'm not Dick, either."

And for a long moment Jason only stares at him, needy and hungry and, yes, *dark* --

And Tim feels like the worst sort of asshole. He shakes his head. "You -- I need a lot of different things, Jason, and I. I've spent a great deal of time *deep* in consideration of that *particular* thing. All right?"

Jason pants --

And pants --

And inhales so sharply it's almost a gasp. "Thank you."

"You're --"

"I'll kiss you just the way you want --"

"Come *with* me!"

Jason stands up *straight* --

And Tim realizes, belatedly, how close they were --

How short he *still* is --

How much control he's *losing* -- no, no. Once he gets Jason into the satellite Cave, he can lock him *down*. *While* starting work on the necessary tests. He can --

He turns around and walks. He *walks*, since he can't trust Jason on a de-cel line *or* a bike --

How had Jason *gotten* to him tonight? Tim turns to where Jason is walking at his side --

His pace is even, and steady, and *ruthlessly* controlled. And Tim can tell with just a glance that Jason is keeping it that way by using *massive* amounts of will.

He'd retrieved the kris -- the gloves are tucked in his belt. Tim knows that had taken will, too.

Tim won't distract him.

The streets are empty enough to worry the part of him which is always, always expecting Bruce -- or Dick, or Cassandra, or Barbara, or *Steph*, because they'd all taught her horrible *habits* -- to leap out and attack him in the interests of training... but Tim knows that that has more to do with the fog rolling in, thick and silent and ominous, than with anything else.

There *are* criminals who operate in Gotham fogs, and many of them are even human, but *not* all of the people those criminals work for can say the same. As such, an entirely *different* part of Tim wants to say something teasingly *inviting* to Jason about the powers he could wind up needing to use to protect *both* of them --

But Jason doesn't actually *use* those powers, and the only reason Tim *knows* about them, at all, is because *Clark* had mentioned them when Tim was fourteen, and halting, and needy, and freshly away from a Young Justice mission in which it was proven, yet again, that his team -- his *friends* -- were *afraid* of him.

Tim had wanted to know if there was ever anything which frightened -- or even *worried* -- people about his predecessors --and he had already known *Bruce's* affirmatives would be... all wrong. He can't --

He can't bring it up with Jason. He can't just slip them back into a conversation they'd *never actually had*.

Jason is not --

He isn't, and Tim can *remember* --

"Feel you... getting tense."

Feel. *Feel*. Is this what he *means* when he says things like that? Could it be *more* than the nebulous emotional synaesthesia of a boy who has infinitely more in common with Dick --

"You could tell me," Jason says, and his teeth glitter a little --

"Would you like that?"

"Uh, hunh."

"Why?"

Jason licks his lips. "Should you be interrogating me in my -- heh -- weakened condition? Robin?"

Yes -- no -- "Fuck --"

"Heh. If I got mad at you for *those* reflexes... I don't know."

"You can -- it's just as bad as me taking advantage of you sexually," Tim says, and turns them onto Templeton. The fog is a visually impenetrable cloud lingering cold and *damp* at their knees --

"Is it? For you?"

I need to *know* if I'm going to -- but. "I'm reasonably sure I shouldn't let *you* interrogate *me* in *any* condition, Jason."

Jason licks his lips and... ghosts his hand over his groin. He doesn't squeeze. "I'll let you ask me whatever you want... if you answer *some* of my questions."

"Jason --"

"I won't ask you to do it honestly --"

"*Jesus*, Jason --"

"I'll know if you lie, anyway. Nobody can ever lie to me without me knowing about it."

Tim blinks --

Wants to ask --

*Wants* --

Jason's smile glitters *more*. "It feels good to know I can make you need *some* things about me, birdboy --"

"Call me Tim. Just -- just that."

Jason takes a shuddering breath. "Okay. I -- sure. Will you --"

"I -- I will." *Fuck* --

Jason rolls his head on his neck. "Need something -- wanna *suck* you --"

"Jason --"

Jason laughs. "I'm uh. I'm kinda oral."

"I... was starting to pick that up."

Jason snickers -- and bumps him with his shoulder. Companionably.

Tim *blinks* --

"Answer my question?"

Right. Tim swallows. "I'm... honestly unsure which variety of taking advantage of you I consider more *morally* reprehensible --"

"It's not that *bad* --"

"I wonder. I wonder if you would feel the same if our positions were reversed."

And Jason looks *hurt* --

He --

Tim wants to *apologize* -- but.

But he also has to answer Jason's questions. "I -- anyway --"

"I'd take you home to Bruce."

Tim *winces* --

"I -- can't fucking believe you actually thought there was any *good* in me --"

"*Jason*. You just proved --"

"The *only* reason I'd take you home to Bruce is that I'd know that you wanted him more than you wanted me, no matter what you fucking said, because *you're* actually a little fucking *sane*."

Wanted --

Sane --

Tim doesn't actually *like* cackling like a cartoon witch, and so he *squeezes* this laugh down to something... even weirder and more cartoonish. Damn it.

"Was that a *laugh*?"

"*Yes* --"

"Fucking *why*?"

"Jason. There were so many things wrong with that statement that I don't even know where to *begin*!"

Jason frowns... rather adorably, actually. That --

He's allowed to enjoy that, he thinks. Isn't he? Tim hums and files it away for later thought, pulling his palm-top and punching in the code that will unlock the trap under the floor of *this* derelict tenement. There. He leads them in --

Jason finds the trap *unerringly* --

Tim looks at him.

"I know how B *thinks*, Tim," Jason says, snickering and opening it for them.

Tim hums. "Noted," he says, and leads them down and in.

Jason doesn't protest Tim locking them down and hiding the codes he'd used to do it. He doesn't protest being led to the gurney and having his blood drawn. He doesn't protest --

He strips, without a word, and lets Tim examine him, and doesn't protest when Tim keeps his touches -- and looks -- as clinical as humanly possible.

A part of him isn't even *disappointed* about that, and Tim thinks it's that part which reaches for his comm when it chimes --

And Jason's -- big, warm, *hard* -- hand is around Tim's wrist. He --

"You're pleading with me."

"Yeah. I am."

You don't know what that *does* to me -- "I won't. I won't call anyone here."

Jason pants and *stares*.

"I'll make them stay away."

"Even --"

"Even if it's Bruce," Tim says, and wonders, and wants -- "If. If this winds up killing you --"

"You can have *all* my shit, I swear --"

"I'll be *pissed*," Tim says, and *glares* --

But Jason only stares at him, because --

Because there are a lot of conversations they've only ever had in Tim's dreams. "Let go."

Jason swallows and does it, and Tim toggles his comm. "R-1 here."

"Is there a problem."

Oh, Batman.

When Tim was thirteen, that tone in Batman's voice made important parts of his anatomy try to return to their ancestral homeland. Now...

Now he knows what it sounds like when *Bruce* is worried. The man has been a lot more open since he started letting Barbara brutalize him on a regular basis, and of course his *vastly* improved -- and stickier -- relationship with *Dick* has been helpful, and --

"*Robin*."

And a part of him is standing here and staring at Jason and wanting to talk, just to *talk*, to tell him what's going *on* with everyone, and how much he could be --

They could be --

Jason is staring at him in *confusion*, though, and that --

"I'm coming. B out --"

"*No* -- ah. No. The situation does *not* require your presence, B."

Silence --

And Tim knows that silence, on the other end, is *full* of Batman doing all sorts of things designed to get him here *faster*. So. He looks Jason in the eye. "Stay away. I repeat: Stay away."

"*Robin* --"

"Protocol Gamma Phi Gamma. And you know precisely how often I *don't* use that, B."

Pause --

*Pause* --

"You never have," Batman says, and the worry is -- a lot more clear.

Tim winces again. He never wants to *make* Bruce worry -- but. "The situation is well in hand. I'll be returning to base as soon as --"

Jason strokes down the center of his bare chest --

His abdomen --

Jason *grips* his entirely hard penis and squeezes so --

"I will return to base when I can," Tim says, because if Jason *has* to be honest, then he can at least *try*.

*Pause* --

"As you say. B out," *Bruce* says, and that was --

He *never* sounds like --

"Okay, *now* I wish you were more like B," Jason says, laughing breathlessly and -- sucking his fingers.

Sucking *pre-ejaculate* from his fingers.

He --

"Ah...?"

And Jason grins, pulling his fingers from his mouth and panting more, rubbing his lower lip with his *tongue* more --

"Jason --"

"B never looked away from me when I was jerking it. It was... heh. Okay, he didn't look away from me *much* before things got shitty between us, but I could make him stop *working* by jerking off *near* him," Jason says, and it's -- wry nostalgia. "It got so I could *feel* him watching me -- needing me -- even if he was off-fucking-*planet* when I was jerking it."

Tim frowns. "You... didn't like that feeling."

Jason tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. "If you asked the kid I was then, he would've said he didn't know if he liked the feeling or not, but that it *always* made him harder. And made him *come* harder, too. If you asked the guy I was -- the guy I *thought* I was -- a year ago, he would've said that kid was just a come-drunk idiot. A stupid whore with a needy trick --"

"*Jason* --"

"I uh. I don't know who that guy is. I don't know who I am, either. And I..." Jason shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "I'm back to not knowing whether or not I liked that feeling." And Jason raises his eyebrows in *open* invitation --

"You know exactly what question I want to ask right now."

Jason's smile is *crookedly* hungry. "I might just be thinking about sucking your sac. Do you shave it?"

"*Ah* --"

"You seem like the kinda guy --"

"I shave it -- sometimes," Tim says, and feels himself -- it's *not* fifteen degrees warmer in here than it was five seconds ago, and that --

Jason makes a small sound. "That's really fucking hot."

"I'm --" Glad you think so. Very -- no. Tim raises an eyebrow. "Hotter than the fact that I wax it sometimes -- that was not what I was going to say."

"You fucking --"

"I -- I really don't know what I --"

"*Ow*, Tim!"

"Yes, it's excruciating --"

"Do you *like* it?"

Well -- "Do you miss feeling Bruce's eyes on you?"

"All the fucking time," Jason says, like it's *nothing*. Like --

Like -- Tim swallows. "I... I always knew you were more brave than I could ever --"

"Don't talk down about yourself. Don't -- you're fucking *Robin*, okay?"

Tim frowns --

And Jason glares at him -- and then winces and laughs painfully. "I -- yeah, I fucked that up, *too*, didn't I. You -- listen, you can't -- the things I said to you..." And Jason punches his thighs again. He --

"Jason... it's. Are you saying --"

"I'm. Sometimes -- a lot of times." And Jason is staring down at the floor, which is clean and white and *glaring* in these fluorescents --

"I'm listening."

Jason swallows -- and looks up into Tim's eyes again. *His* eyes are wide and full and so -- open. "A lot of times I've thought apologies were bullshit. Just -- bullshit. You can't fix a fuck-up with *words*, you know? Even if the fuck-up *was* words, it wasn't -- nothing is just words. If it's a *fuck-up*, you *hurt* someone, and that goes down deep. *Way* beyond where words can even *start* to touch. You know... do you know what I'm saying?"

"I -- yes. I try... it's one of the reasons why I've spent a lot of time... quiet."

Jason nods, and never looks away from him. "That's you, hunh? That's... yeah, I can see it," he says, and pushes a hand back through his hair. "I tried to keep my mouth shut, too. When I was a kid, I mean. When I was the kid my Mom -- my *real* Mom -- raised, and when I was the kid Bruce made me. He was... heh. Batman's just the smallest piece, yeah?"

Tim feels himself blushing more --

"Yeah, you know. You don't even have to say it. It -- what was --- no, let me finish this: I tried *not* to fuck up in the first place. I tried not to *hurt* anyone, except for the fucking skels. I tried -- I mean. Did Dick tell you..."

("He was... well, he was a *vicious* little punk when we met, little brother. I...")

And Dick's smile had been so *rueful* --

("I told Roy once that I thought he'd make a better *henchman* than a sidekick. And then, not much later, I told *him* that. You know why?"

"Ah... because he... upset you?"

"Not even, little brother. I told him because the vicious little punk *disappeared*. I don't know if Bruce said something -- no, that's stupid. Bruce wouldn't have said a *word* back then. I just... he was *infinitely* more likely to bruise you than he was to hug you. He'd curse you out eighteen times before he said he *loved* you. But he was still one of the most gentle people I'd *ever* met, little brother. A lot more gentle than *me*."

"That... is. Ah. Improbable?"

"Oh, yeah? How's this: Even though he was Robin, even though he was the Robin who was fucking *Bruce* -- and don't even *pretend* you didn't know that -- he was *still* the person *least* likely -- other than *Roy* -- to say or do *anything* that actually hurt my feelings. Even *accidentally*. Even Kory got a little hard to deal with sometimes, just because she was so *mad* at Bruce. Jason slipped *once*, when we were first getting to know each other, and then *never* again. He was. I wish. I wish he was here right now, little brother. Even if you *did* wind up liking him better than me.")

And Dick had winked and ruffled Tim's *hair* --

And Jason is... watching him. *Searching* him.

"Ah... Dick told me a great deal about you, Jason. He loved you very much."

Jason shivers -- and winces. "Before I turned into -- yeah. I loved *him*, Tim. I *love* him. And I wanted -- I was so fucking *scared* of him walking right back into the Cave and *taking* Robin back. A part of me knew he couldn't take *Bruce* away from me, that if anything *like* that happened it'd be all three of us, but Batman and Robin? The part of the whole thing that *really* made me feel like I was worth something?"

"Oh -- Jason --"

"That makes you reach out for me? That... heh." And Jason stares at Tim's hand, held up between them --

*Bare* --

He had -- *somehow* -- failed to put the gauntlets back on after running the tests --

Tim stares at his *own* hand -- and *wills* it to stop shaking. He --

No, he drops it --

"Don't -- I. I need you, man. You can touch me for whatever reason you want," Jason says, and sounds so *tired*.

Tim frowns and -- no, that would be -- he laughs at himself and moves closer, cupping Jason's broad, strong, *scarred* shoulder and squeezing.

"What's funny?" And that was *almost* casual.

If Tim doesn't pay attention to Jason's eyes. If -- Tim licks his lips --

Jason *narrows* his eyes --

Tim's mind *fills* with images of kissing Jason, licking Jason, kissing Jason's erect and leaking *penis* -- "Ah."

And Jason flares his nostrils and pants. "I think -- think I feel -- tell me what you're thinking?"

"Nothing --"

"*Tim* --"

"Nothing *helpful* --"

"That sounds like it'd be *real* helpful to my *cock* --"

"Look, I -- of *course* I'm attracted to you --"

"Tell me what you *like* --"

"Jason --"

"I've been trying -- I've been fucking *obsessing* about it for *weeks*, and I --"

"Weeks? You --" Tim pinches Jason's shoulder --

"Fucking *ow*, hey --"

"You were dosed *weeks* ago and you didn't get *help*?"

"What? *No*. I just -- I got jumped in the lab I was searching last *night*, okay? Fuck, lemme -- oh. Oh, yeah, you can --" And Jason groans for the feel of Tim rubbing away the tension he'd caused. Rubbing --

There are massage oils here, of course. There are --

*Everything* is here, except for some of the larger exercise equipment. Everything --

And Tim is *watching* himself start to massage Jason, watching --

It's just that he's so *tense*, and Tim can help, he can --

"Do you like that?" Jason's voice is low, breathy, *hungry* --

Tim winces --

His hands are *shaking*. Both of them are, including the one he has fisted at his *side*. He's --

He's reached around to start working the back of Jason's *neck* --

"You can do that while I'm sucking you, you know."

"Fuck --"

"Or." Jason licks his lips. Wets his lips. *Rubs* his lower lip with his tongue --

"Why -- fuck. No, I'm not --"

And Jason *stops* him with the look in his eyes, with the hunger that's --

"You want my questions."

"I really fucking do. Ask. Ask 'em all. Let me get to know you *that* way."

Tim *clamps* down on the noise he would've made before he can think about it --

He's still rubbing Jason's *neck* --

His fingers would taste like Jason's *sweat* --

"Tim..."

"I... am staring at your pulse point."

Jason laughs breathlessly. "You really fuckin' are. When most people do that, they wanna bite. You?"

Tim licks his lips helplessly --

"Is that a yes?"

"I don't -- think --" Tim frowns and looks *up*, meets Jason's *gaze*. "I was... I wasn't thinking."

"Not with the part of your brain that makes plans...?" And Jason sounds a lot less tired. A lot more --

"You know you -- you know you're going to get what you want."

Jason narrows his eyes and *grunts*, penis twitching once --

Twice --

"*Fuck*, Tim..."

"You... didn't know?"

"Know you fucking *want* me -- tell me *how*, lemme *do* it --"

"Jason --"

"Fuck, do you have any *idea* how frustrating it is to *need* to jerk off to someone whose kinks you don't know even a *little*?"

"Need -- you've been --"

"Come *on*, Tim, tell me something, or -- is it hard for you to talk about?" And Jason is panting and searching him again, gripping the edges of the gurney and *staring* -- "You can show me -- you can *tell* me anything, but you can also just show me, and I'll get it, I'm not always fucking *slow* --"

"You're *not* --"

"I fucked *up* with you, and I just -- I wanna start *over* so fucking *bad* -- *hnh* -- ah, *shit*, your hand feels --"

Tim *squeezes* Jason's penis as hard as he would squeeze himself --

"Aw, *yeah* -- *Jesus*, that's fucking -- or wait, is that supposed to be punishment?"

"What? No --"

"Okay, cool. Do it again. *Please* do it again," Jason says, nodding and grinning and *panting* --

And *Tim* is panting --

And Jason is pushing back against Tim's other hand on his neck -- "It's good. It's -- wait, do you need me to shut up?"

"No!"

"Good, 'cause I'm fucking *awful* at that," Jason says, and laughs breathlessly again, *smiles* --"Touch me. Touch me however you *want*. You can -- fuck, just, tell me what you want me to *say*."

Weeks. "You. You." Tim winces and squeezes again --

"Fuck --"

Again --

"Aw, *Jesus*, so strong -- didn't think -- of course your hands are this good. You use that staff all night *every* night and just --"

*Again* --

Jason *whines* --

"*Weeks*!"

"Hunh? You -- wha?"

And for a moment they're only staring at each other, only trying to -- to *understand* --

Tim can *feel* Jason *struggling* --

Struggling to figure out what Tim wants.

"Tim...?"

Struggling --

"Please. Please, man."

Because he wants to *give* it to Tim.

*Needs* to.

*Weeks* --

"Lemme. Just --" And Jason's leaning in, and Tim *knows* he wants a kiss, maybe needs *that*, too, but he can't --

Tim can't do anything but *drop* to his knees --

"*Fuck*, Tim --"

Open, take --

"*Tim* --"

*Suck*, and he's wanted, he's wanted so much, and Jason has to *know* that, has to *understand* --

He can't *lie* --

And there's a part of Tim which is only watching from the shadows beyond the rest. There's a part of Tim which *isn't* paying attention to the sound of Jason growling, the feel of him *stroking* Tim's hair with shaking hands, the feel of him on Tim's tongue, thick and warm and slick, so *slick* --

The *taste* --

There's a part of Tim which *isn't* groaning and slurping and *working* his head, and that part of him is watching, only watching --

And pointing out, quietly, that Jason really is saying *all* the right things. That he's an *experienced* operative, trained well by the Batman and trained *frighteningly* by the League of *Assassins*.

Neither would have only focused on Jason's physical abilities.

Neither would have *stinted* on the importance of psychological *warfare*.

In the end, while Tim had *begun* the process of removing his weaknesses with regards to Jason Todd, he had by no means finished the process. That much would be obvious even *without* the way he's moaning for this, slurping for it, salivating and *flexing* in his jock --

Needing --

*Dreaming* --

The part of him which *isn't* dreaming is preparing for the next strike.

The part of him which isn't *begging*, wordless and slurred and *needy* --

"Fuck, yeah -- oh, *yeah*!"

Tim leaves that part to itself and tries to quiet himself enough to listen, to *hear* over his own pounding heart --

The sound of his hand moving over Jason's scarred skin --

His *thighs* --

Jason is grunting, *squirming* -- "Wanna -- shit, I wanna --"

Tim nods before he can think, before -- but he would've nodded anyway. He wants what Jason wants. He wants to know it, wants to *feel* --

"Feel you -- *need* you, c'mon take me *deeper* --"

Tim can't even *begin* to fight back that whimper --

"No? You don't like -- *fuck* -- oh, fuck your mouth -- wait, don't --"

Tim *sucks* --

Jason *growls* --

Tim sucks harder, and it's *difficult* with something this large in his mouth, but Tim has been purchasing his own recreational accessories since --

Since he'd watched Jason howling his pleasure to Bruce and Gotham and the night, actually, and *laughing* around Jason's penis makes him cough --

"Fuck, *easy*, Tim --"

No, *not* easy, *nothing* is easy, but this is so good, so right as he moves his hand altogether --

"No -- shit -- fuck --"

As he looks up into Jason's *eyes* --

"Oh my fucking God, you want me, you want me -- *nnh*. Fucking A, you can fucking *have* me," Jason says, standing up from the gurney and slipping *out* --

Tim *groans* --

"C'mon, Tim, move back a little, just -- yeah, *here*," and Jason cups Tim's face --

Works the hinge of Tim's jaw until Tim opens *wide* --

And pushes in, pushes --

So --

Tim swallows --

"*Nnh* -- yeah, yeah, you -- wanted this, too --"

Tim tries to nod --

"Wanted -- you've got such a *mean* little *mouth*, and I -- fuck, I just wanna *stay* --"

Tim swallows hard --

"Unh --"

Again --

"Oh, *yeah*, *fuck* --"

*Again*, and he wants to moan with Jason, wants to cry out with --

But is this happiness? It feels --

He's *wanted* this, so *much*, dreamed of it when Jason was Robin and didn't *stop* dreaming of it after he'd been murdered --

Never --

*Never*, and even though that isn't quite true, it *should* be, because Jason is staring into his eyes, Jason is panting, Jason is rocking his hips so slowly, so *gently*, he --

But --

"Fuck, Tim, I know -- you want more, don't you. You want -- big and hard and *harder*, right? That's -- I'll give it to you, but I can't..." Jason bites his lip and laughs with rueful *pain* --

Tim *fights* himself, fights to pay attention, to do more than swallow again and again and --

"It's just -- I'm not gonna last, okay? Not this time -- please please *please* let me do it again, okay? I'll make it good, I'll make it -- ah, fuck, you're still fucking *swallowing* -- yeah, okay, I *hear* you," and Jason pushes a hand into Tim's hair and *grips* --

Tim tries and fails to *shout* --

"Aw, *yeah*," and Jason pulls out --

Tim *gasps* --

And *gulps*, because it's a thrust, not a push, it's so fast, it's --

It's happening again --

*Again*, and Tim can't focus, can't --

Can't *see*, because every gulp *gives* Jason to him, gives him the feel of pre-ejaculate trickling down his throat --

Slicking his tongue --

*In* and Jason's penis twitches *hard* --

Tim groans and tries to --

Out and he's moaning, begging, babbling --

"Fuck *me*, you're so fucking *hot*," and Jason sounds mournful, desperate, *starved* --

Tim *lunges* to take him back in and swallows, sucks, sucks as hard as he can and *groans* --

"Aw *yeah*, I just -- I just --" And Jason shakes himself like a dog and grips Tim's head with both hands. "Couldn't make the fantasies look like this. Couldn't make 'em *feel* -- so good -- stay *right* fuckin' here," and Jason *grinds* into Tim's mouth, into Tim's *throat* --

In and in and *in*, over and over, and there's no time to breathe, no room to do more than *take* --

No, he can suck, he can -- he can *do* that, and make Jason feel as good as he does, make him --

In *hard*, and that *hurt*, and Tim's penis is twitching constantly, Tim's penis *aches*, Tim's *throat* aches, and there's more, he needs *more*, he has to --

Jason *has* to, and Tim looks up and tries to make Jason see that, make him *understand* --

He looks so *desperate*, so *hurt*, and Tim realizes that he's doing everything he can to keep from *coming*, but Tim needs more, needs --

He reaches for Jason's hips and *claws* them --

"Yeah -- yeah, I -- you're so fucking --" And then Jason growls out an exhale, and the thrusts are even faster, even *harder* --

It's so perfect Tim's eyes roll back in his head --

Jason *barks* --

Howls --

And the thrusts turn *brutal*, painful and so -- Jason is coming.

Jason is coming in his *mouth* --

In his throat --

So deep, so *deep*, and Tim is groaning for it, sucking --

"Fuck -- fucking *fuck* --" And Jason pulls out enough that the last spatters are all in Tim's mouth, all --

On his *tongue*, and the noises Tim is making are so loud, so desperate and hoarse and --

He can't stop *sucking*, can't stop digging his nails in against Jason's hips and *gripping* --

Jason whimpers --

His penis spasms and he ejaculates *again* --

"*UNH* -- *Jesus* --"

Tim slurps enough to keep the semen from spilling out of his mouth --

Jason *whines* --

Tim shudders and grips Jason's *ass*, pulling --

"Oh, *yeah* -- no, *ow*, wait -- uh." And Jason laughs and *grips* Tim's head again, holding him still.

Tim... does not want to wait. At all. At -- but he can --

Jason needs --

Tim *focuses*, as much as he *can* --

"Shit, are you *angry* with me? I'm *sorry*. I will totally keep fucking your face --"

Tim blinks and tries to -- wait. They can do... better than this. He tugs against Jason's grip --

"Uh. Can we -- wait, no, talking is good. Please talk to me. Please -- and let me get you *off*. A *lot*," Jason says, and lets go -- and *falls* back against the gurney. "Shit, I think your mouth was the only thing holding me *up*." And he snickers --

And Tim breathes --

And licks his lips --

And stares --

And Jason stops laughing and stares right back, lips parted and eyes wide --

"I..."

"Tim..."

Tim swallows and winces --

"Are you okay?" And Jason stands up again and cups Tim's face with one hand and strokes his throat with the other --

"I'm --"

"I don't know what kinda cocks you've been takin', but *shit*."

That -- "Ah."

"It's -- uh. That was fucking fantastic. That was..." Jason shakes his head and strokes Tim's throat more, and strokes Tim's mouth with his thumb --

Tim can't keep himself from *licking* Jason's thumb --

Jason's penis twitches --

Tim growls and sucks Jason's thumb into his *mouth* --

"Oh fuck. Uh. Uh. And you're still looking at me like you're *pissed* --"

Tim shakes his head. Slowly.

"No? Okay, then," Jason says, and starts fucking Tim's mouth with his thumb, starts *screwing* it in --

Tim's mouth falls *open* --

"No, man, close it up tight -- yeah. Yeah. I *know* you're sore. And I know you *like* it, too, yeah?"

Tim nods and *sucks*, closing his eyes --

"No, let me see you, lemme -- Jesus, I wanna -- are you *sure* we can't talk about your kinks?"

Tim opens his eyes and raises an *eyebrow*.

"Please? I'll fuckin' *give* 'em to you. You *gotta* know how experienced *I* am."

And that... Tim sucks *hard* for a moment to give himself the pain in his lips, his jaw --

"So *hot* --"

And then he pulls off. "Would you say... ah."

Jason is staring at his mouth. Jason --

"You're still so hard..."

Jason grunts and his penis *twitches* -- "Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I really. I've been hard off and on since last night. I can. I was beating it back with meditation until I saw you move tonight."

Tim winces with *need* --

"Was that -- that wasn't pain."

"No, I -- no," Tim says, and looks up into Jason's eyes. "I want you."

Jason squeezes Tim's throat -- but only for a *moment* before he stops. "Yeah. You. Tell me how. Show me how. Make me -- what were you gonna *ask*?"

"Squeeze me again --"

"*Fuck* --"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know you want me to talk --"

"You like it. You like to be fuckin' *choked*," Jason says, and he sounds incredulous and pleased and *starved* --

Tim squeezes his *eyes* shut --

"No, don't --"

Tim opens his eyes and tries to focus again, tries to -- "Your hand's right there. No one --"

"No one's ever done it *for* you. No one --" Jason licks his lips. "Fucking *thank* you," he says, and squeezes *hard* --

"Nnk --"

Jason *pants*. "Look at your little pink tongue sticking out. Look at -- so wet --" Jason shakes himself again. "Wanna suck it. Lick it. Bite it and lick it some *more*. You know how swollen your mouth is right now? You ever look in the *mirror* after you blow some *incredibly* lucky bastard? I hope you fucking do. I hope you fuckin' get *off* on how hot you are --"

Tim shakes his *head* --

"I think that means I should squeeze you harder. I think -- yeah. You like pain. All over?" Jason squeezes *viciously* hard --

Tim couldn't pull his tongue in if he *tried* --

"You fucking -- you like waxing your fucking *sac* -- you gotta let me fucking *suck* that. I don't care if it's not waxed now, I want it in my *mouth*. Maybe I'll nibble on it for you, hunh?"

Tim *bucks* --

"Heh. Yeah. Okay, I'm doin' better at readin' you over here. That's fuckin' great for the self-esteem. Open wide when you need to breathe. Open wide enough that I'll *forget* that you need to breathe for a second because I'm too busy thinking about fuckin' *reaming* you again --"

Tim *flails* -- no. He *grips* at Jason's forearms, strokes at the hair and scars and wants, *wants* --

"Hey, should I be making you put your hands behind your back?"

*Fuck* --

"Oh, man. That looked *and* felt like a 'fuck, yeah.' I gotta warn you, though -- I'm *way* more of a bottom than -- okay, that look on your face is fuckin' priceless, and I --"

Black --

"-- *that* look, however, tells me some little bird needs to open --"

Black --

No, Tim opens, as wide as he can --

He can't --

And *then* Jason eases his grip -- he *doesn't* let go --

Tim gasps --

And gasps --

And *keeps* gasping, because --

"*Jesus*, you gotta fucking -- I'll *be* your top --"

"Ah -- Shiva called me 'little bird'," Tim says, and his voice sounds so gravely, so *rough* --

"What?"

"Ah? Oh." Tim licks his lips and smiles, suspecting it looks more than a little drugged on his face. "Shiva -- while she was teaching me some of the moves I was using to hold you at bay tonight --"

"She called you 'little bird'. Right, I -- uh. Sorry? Sorry. I won't," Jason says, and strokes Tim's hair with his free hand.

"It's -- mm. Entirely all right. You couldn't have known. I... Jason..." And Tim looks up and smiles a little more.

Jason grins. "Yeah? What do you need? What do you *want*? *When* do I get to rip your clothes off with my teeth, hunh?"

That -- Tim raises an eyebrow again.

Jason snickers. "Just wait until you *do* hook up with B. You'll learn to *never* wear your favorite clothes around him."

Tim blinks. "He... tore your clothes?"

"All the fucking *time*. He'd try to hide the fucking *remains* from Alfred, but Alfred always knew anyway. And B would wind up with cold coffee, burnt toast, enough starch in his shirts to *bleed* on..." Jason snickers more. "B totally didn't learn."

Well. "I imagine..."

"Yeah?"

Tim licks his lips again. "I imagine the look on your face -- the sounds you made? -- when Bruce *did* tear your clothes was enough to make him *need* to do it. Over and over again."

Jason narrows his eyes *hotly*. "You... I'm thinkin' about what a stalker you are. What you might've already *known* about me and B."

Tim shows his teeth. "I'm thinking about the fact that I already knew what *some* of the sounds you tend to make at passionate moments were like."

And Jason -- blushes. Blushes? He also *snorts*, but --

"Jason...?"

"You know *I'm* not into public sex, right?"

Tim... stares.

Jason snickers and coughs and snickers *more* --

Tim continues to stare, but -- "Jason --"

"Call me Jay, hunh?"

Tim *grunts* --

"Aw, fuck, yeah, wait," Jason says, and *grips* Tim's throat --

"Glk --"

"That should *not* be a sexy fucking sound -- but it totally is, and I am just the kind of well-rounded, open-minded, modern guy who can understand that kinda thing."

Tim feels his *lashes* flutter --

"*So* hot."

Feels his heart *pound*, and he needs -- he needs this, *just* this, and it's possible that if Jason were to do this while he was *naked* --

Tim's penis flexes *hard* --

Tim *sways* --

"Yeah, hunh? But let me tell you something, lemme -- I'll tell you anything, fucking -- tell *me* -- or you can do that. You can abso-fucking-lutely do that," Jason says, and that lets Tim know that he's working on his belt, disabling all the traps --

The traps Jason shouldn't *know* about --

"C'mon, c'mon, lemme *see* you, Tim..."

Tim can make new traps, new -- he'll come up with something, and he'll --

He'll be --

Strong, or --

He sets the belt down and *shoves* down his shorts and tights, grateful that they're just that much lighter than the ones he used to wear --

"Fuck, your jock is so -- did you *come*?"

Tim shakes his head as much as he *can* with Jason holding him --

Holding him so tightly, so perfectly, and Tim wants more, needs more, needs --

"God, you're *pleading* with me -- fucking -- get that jock out of the way, Tim. Show me your *cock*."

And he wants to, he *wants* to, but his fingers aren't working. They're thick, stupid and clumsy, shaking --

Black --

"-- *know* what to fuckin' do --"

Tim opens *wide* --

"Aw, *yeah*. Wanna fuck your mouth every fuckin' day, wanna watch -- who *does* do it for you? Dick would've been *different* if you'd fucked him. *Why* haven't you --"

Black --

Black --

"-- *fuck* --"

And Tim is moving, being moved, Tim is *up* --

Jason pinches his nose --

Jason breathes into his *mouth*, and that -- well, that's going a little *far*, but Tim can't actually stop him from doing it again --

The third time, Tim slips his tongue into Jason's mouth --

"*Mm* --"

Jason *sucks* Tim's tongue, gripping Tim hard enough to make him *lose* air --

Tim *laughs* into Jason's mouth --

"*Fuck*, I'm impaired," Jason says, pushing Tim *back* -- but keeping a grip on Tim's upper arms.

Tim can't do anything about the smile on his face. He can't do anything about the way he's panting and shivering, either, but the smile seems the most *dire* thing, considering the way Jason is staring at him. The way -- "Jay..."

Jason shivers, too. "You... uh. Tell me you're okay?"

"I'm fine. The buddy-breathing wasn't actually necessary --"

"You blacked *out* --"

"Only for a moment --"

"Okay, now I wanna know who you're fucking so I can fucking *hurt* them -- but. You haven't let anybody else do you that way," Jason says, and frowns.

Tim licks his lips -- "No one."

"You -- fuck, I wanna do that a *lot* --"

"You can --"

"Not while I'm this fucked-up! Or..." And Jason is back to staring at him. He --

He needs. Tim pushes against Jason's hold on him --

"Wait --"

"I'd rather not."

Jason laughs breathlessly. "You can't -- you have to be the responsible one, okay? Because I can't even fucking -- you know what I'm thinking about? Right now?"

"My shocking lack of lung capacity?"

Another *snort* -- "I'm *thinking* about all the positions we can *fuck* in that would let me keep *choking* you --"

"*AHN* -- ah. Ah. Jason..."

"Fuck. Jesus. You --" And Jason is fast enough to get one hand on Tim's throat and the other in the waistband of Tim's jock before --

But Tim wasn't actually trying to fight. He --

This is a *problem*. This --

He can't be this --

"Tell me I can strip you. Tell me I can *choke* you and strip you --"

"*Yes*," Tim says, and pushes against Jason's hand, against both of Jason's hands --

"Yeah, *fuck*, easy, 'cause we both know the jocks fit too perfectly to just *yank* 'em off --"

"I don't care --"

"I *promise* I'll hurt you --"

Tim grunts and *bucks* --

"Fuck, I'll hurt you every fuckin' *day*," Jason says, but he's still *careful* when he pulls Tim's jock out of the way, still --

And Tim stops caring when he's free, stops being *able* to care, or to do more than groan for the freedom and *shudder* for the cool air on his *ridiculously* slick penis --

"God, it's so *straight*. Well, something in this family fuckin' had to be," and Jason cups him --

"Jason --"

"Jay, c'mon, say it, make me feel like you know me --"

"I *want* to -- *NNGH* --"

"One good squeeze deserves another, yeah? Now say my name."

"*Jay* -- hnh -- *hnh* --"

"*Good* boy. Heh. Should I work you over like you did me? You didn't get *excited* enough when I said I wanted to suck you --"

"I'm *sorry* --"

Jason *grunts* -- "Fuck, you meant that too much. Say it again anyway," he says, and squeezes even *harder* --

"*Fuck* -- I'm sorry!"

"Not like I am, Tim, not like -- you fucking tried to reach *out* --"

"*Yes* -- nk --"

"I couldn't hear you, then, okay? I mean -- it's *not* fucking okay, it's never fucking --" Jason growls and *yanks* Tim close for a kiss, and another --

Another and another, and Tim wants to kiss back, wants to *give* back, but the kisses are so *soft*, and so fast, and he can't catch them, can't --

And then he can't do anything but shake and *buck*, because Jason is *working* Tim's penis with his other hand, squeezing and stroking and squeezing and --

And there's no *rhythm*, nothing Tim can catch, nothing he can --

Tim feels himself break out in fresh sweat and he's moaning in his mind, *begging* in his mind, and he doesn't even know what he *wants* --

"Feel so good, *taste* so --" And Jason growls and licks Tim's *face*, licks his cheeks and his forehead and his *domino* -- "*Want* you."

And Tim nods against Jason's *grip* and tries to press closer, give more, *have* more --

"Yeah, I got you, I got... mm. Here," Jason says, and starts *lapping* at Tim's mouth while stroking Tim's penis so hard, so *hard*, and it's not as *fast* as Tim does it, but --

But Tim can thrust into his fist, he can --

It's Jason's *fist*, and it's so warm, so big and *strong* --

He's always *been* so --

"Gonna fuck you *real* fucking hard --"

Yes -- oh, yes *please* --

"Gonna -- I know you *want* it, and I want it, too. Fucking *need* it, need to bend you over and make you fucking *scream* for me, scream your fucking *head* off because I'm doing you that hard --"

Tim can't -- can't *see* --

"*Yeah*. I'll *hurt* you, baby. I'll make you --"

But Tim can't hear the rest of that, can't focus, can't *think*, because everything is heat --

Everything hot is slamming *through* him --

Everything --

Jason squeezes so *hard* --

And somehow Tim is screaming, somehow he's *free* enough to scream, and breathe, and --

Jason is holding his penis too *tightly* for it to spasm in any way but *internally*, and it hurts, it *hurts*, and he has to say that, has to make sure Jason knows that so he can do it *again*, do --

He can't --

Every ejaculation is making him scream *more*, and he can't --

Everything is so --

"-- *need* you!" And Jason *yanks* him into another kiss, presses and holds them together --

Grunts into Tim's mouth when Tim comes *on* him --

He never stops *squeezing*, and now Tim can see *enough* of the future to know that it will eventually hurt *more* than feel wonderful --

*Eventually* --

He can't tell Jason to stop. He can't tell Jason to ease his *grip*. All he can do, right now, is kiss Jason back and be held --

No, he can hold Jason in return, he can --

Tim wraps his arms around Jason's neck --

And Jason groans into Tim's mouth and *thrusts* against him --

Tim gasps and loses his balance --

And Jason lets go of Tim's penis and holds him by the hips, holds him and squeezes him and fucks Tim's *mouth*, and Tim --

Tim stops trying to figure out how to balance on his own and takes it, *takes* it --

He's *wanted* --

He has to -- oh -- Tim pulls back --

"Tim, *please* --"

"I've wanted -- I've wanted you for years," Tim says, and blinks away the haze as much as he can, tries to *see* --

And, when he can, Jason is blinking, too. He --

"That's..." Tim laughs breathlessly. "Everything you've said tonight... I suppose your surprise *shouldn't* be a surprise at this point... but it is."

Jason frowns. "That's -- that's why you reached out for me?"

I love you -- "I -- I wanted you -- you're family. I don't. Have." Tim frowns and doesn't think of his --

He doesn't think of blood on his knees, and he doesn't think of the fact that his last name is *Wayne* now, and he doesn't --

He *doesn't* --

And he realizes that he'd turned away when Jason cups his chin -- so *gently* -- and turns him back. And stares at him and -- into him.

"Jas-- Jay."

"Were you. Did you think of me --" Jason cuts himself off and shakes his head --

"I thought of you all the *time* --"

"Did you want me -- fuck. Tim..." And Jason looks so -- hurt.

No, that's -- Tim swallows and steps back. "I'm sorry, we don't -- obviously we don't have to talk about this --"

"You wanted me to be -- your other brother?"

"Look, this makes you uncomfortable --"

"I didn't fucking -- I was just --"

"It's all right --"

"It's *not*," and Jason *yanks* off Tim's cape --

"*Fuck* --"

"Take this --" Jason growls, shaking his head and not *waiting* for Tim to help him open the tunic, not --

"Jay --"

"Your fucking *throat*," Jason says, and the tunic is open --

Pushed back down Tim's *arms* --

And Jason is holding Tim's chin *up* and -- staring at the scar on Tim's throat.

His scar. His -- "I..."

"Tim..."

Tim swallows --

Jason *winces* --

"You..." Tim licks his lips and pulls on calm as best as he can, tugging the tunic the rest of the way off. And -- no, everything. He pulls the bottle of solvent from the cabinet by the gurney, spritzes himself, and tugs off his mask. He --

Jason is still wincing --

"You've given me a fair idea of what was going through your mind --"

"Don't fucking --" Jason growls and steps back, covering his face --

"I -- you don't want me to forgive you."

Jason drops his hands and glares. "No, I don't --"

Tim holds up a hand. "That wasn't actually a question. Put yourself in my position --"

"Put yourself in *mine*, Tim! You wouldn't want to be forgiven, *either*."

Tim -- flares his nostrils. He -- "I --"

"Yeah, don't. I *know* you wouldn't, Tim. You -- you gave me that much," Jason says, and frowns.

"I want. I want to give you more."

Jason shudders. "I want. I fucking -- you could've been my *brother*, and that -- you fucking know how much that *means* --"

"I do --"

"You have *Dick* --"

"So did you."

"Yeah, and I fucked that up -- I wanted -- I thought. I thought I could start over with you," Jason says, and laughs *painfully*. Which...

Tim raises an eyebrow. "You've been doing rather well with that --"

"Yeah, after I lost it and pulled my fucking *kris* --"

"*Why* did you --"

"I was. Uh. I was about to try to cut you out of your clothes, man. I couldn't figure out -- I've only ever used the standard belt-knives on dominos before. I had no fucking clue where to start with my kris," Jason says, and -- looks at Tim from under his lashes.

Tim opens his mouth -- closes it. "All right, I *have* had that fantasy, actually."

"About *me*?"

"That was more of a nightmare --"

"This is what I'm *saying* --"

Tim holds up a hand again. "Tell me... what you want from me. Please."

"What I can't *have* --"

"*Jay* --"

"I saw you, okay? I fucking -- I fucking *saw* you, and I *felt* you, and you. You're not like Dick and you're not like your girlfriend. You're like *Bruce* -- but not all the way. Not..." Jason stares at him and licks his lips. "There's something in you that's just a little darker than it *should* be. There's something -- you don't have to say a fucking word. I don't *deserve* that. But I can *feel* it, Tim. I felt it fucking *forever* ago, and it let my pathetic, stupid, *hypocritical* ass *hate* you more. Because you weren't *good* enough to be Robin.

"Because you were a little bit like me."

Tim -- feels himself blush. "You... keep talking."

Jason stares at him for a long moment --

Licks his *teeth* --

And nods. "I started -- fucking getting over myself. Probably while -- no. *Definitely* while I was obsessing about you in the back of my mind. It's not like I didn't *know* I was being an asshole. And it's not like I didn't *see* you. See how you *moved*. See how you *looked*. See how you *didn't* fucking smile -- most of the time. I knew you could be so fucking *dangerous*. I wanted to fucking *train* you. That's -- heh. Those were the first fantasies."

Tim licks the backs of *his* teeth --

Jason stares at his *mouth* -- "You like that thought."

"I am... exactly who I am. Keep talking."

"Tim --"

"You -- I need to know this. I need to know -- and then I'll tell you whatever you want to know about me," Tim says, and meets Jason's gaze.

Jason *pants* -- and rubs his lower lip with his tongue.

"Jay --"

"Are you saying we can do this?"

"I -- want to."

"Tim --"

"Do you --"

"Yeah. Yeah, I want you to be my brother," Jason says. "I want it -- I'm fucking *lonely* --"

Tim grunts -- "I -- Jay --"

"Yeah. The edge is off, but I'm still a little..." Jason shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "Everything's coming out of me. Everything -- I'm kinda glad, though. Heh. I didn't lie all that much when I was alive the first time, either."

Tim frowns. "I still feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"Good. I fucking deserve it --"

"I don't actually *work* that way --"

"Maybe you'll let me teach you how."

Tim narrows his eyes at Jason --

Jason shows his teeth -- and drags his fingers through the drying semen on his abdomen. That --

Tim snorts. "All right. We've established that you want to be punished. *Real* punishment would involve me *not* letting you do any of the things you want to do with me."

"And to you --"

"And to me --"

"And fucking *on* you --"

"Jay."

Jay snickers -- and grins. "Sorry, man. I'm a little fucking high on this."

"You're high *period* --"

"Yeah. I am. And I want --" Jason shakes himself all over and *starts* to move closer -- but he stops.

Tim raises an eyebrow.

"Heh. If I do that? I'll forget what I'm *supposed* to be doing and start hurting you again."

Tim's penis... makes its presence known.

"And you'll *let* me do it -- fuck, Tim, lemme teach you how to be a *bastard* --"

"Tell me about your fantasies," Tim says, and crosses his arms over his chest.

"You've got such a -- fucking *love* your body --"

Tim's penis twitches *again* --

Jason scratches -- *claws* -- at his abdomen and *stares* at Tim's penis --

"Jason. *Talk*."

Jason winces -- and looks up. "That's a punishment that works on me pretty well," he says, and smiles ruefully.

What -- oh. "I... used the wrong name?"

"You can -- and *should* -- call me whatever the fuck you *wanna* call me --"

"Jay --"

"Don't -- not if you don't want to --"

"Every --" And Tim's throat *locks*, and he's *blushing* again --

Blushing *hard* --

*Fighting* not to look away --

And Jason is searching him. "Tim...? What's wrong? Do you need --"

"Every. Every time someone called you Jay around me, I felt. I felt like I knew you. Like I *could* know you, and -- have you. A little," Tim says, and he's not sure what expression is on his face --

He'd like a *mirror* --

He feels so *stiff*, and --

And Jason is staring at him again, and he looks *starved* again, and -- and Tim *does* know what that's for. At least in part.

"Jay, I. I always want to."

Jason inhales sharply, swallows and nods -- "B only called me Jason when he was trying to be Batman with me. When he was -- when we weren't *right*. You know?"

"Did he -- he called you Jason a great deal... at the end?"

"Yeah, I -- yeah. Not at the *very* end. We'd -- we'd fucking *fixed* things, and we were gonna head back to Gotham together and fucking -- I could see him again, and he could see *me*. I could -- I'd finally fucking spat *out* some of the shit that was bothering me about Babs getting shot, and how Batman and Robin worked on the street, and even a little about my and B's weird-ass and *fucked*-up *marriage* --"

"Oh -- yes?" 

Jason's -- *Jay's* smile is rueful. Soft. "I was fifteen and he was thirty-fucking-eight. He'd picked me up by the scruff of the neck -- literally -- and dragged me home -- *literally* -- when I was fucking *twelve*. And uh -- I had a little while to be pissed at him for that? But it was *only* a little while, because he was *exactly* who he fucking was, and every time I turned around, he was showing me how much I fucking *owned* him. And somehow it *wasn't* like all the panting, drooling kidfuckers who'd pawed all over me and *worse*. Somehow it was -- shit, you know what he's like."

"I. Not when he is..." Tim shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "I've never been someone he's... desired." Or even especially wanted *around*, not at first, and --

And Jay is frowning at him.

"Jay?"

"You -- that was actually serious, wasn't it."

"Yes? Yes, it was --"

"What was -- that code you gave him earlier. Gamma Phi Gamma. The one you're *gonna* fucking change as soon as you go home --"

"Probably. I'd prefer us to go home together," Tim says, and deals with the fact that that was a blurt, that Jay is staring at him, that he doesn't know what expression is on his face again, that -- "We don't have to --"

"That was serious, too."

"Yes."

"I'm. Fuck. I'm having a real hard time..."

Tim's heart is -- pounding again. It's -- "You can. You can tell me --"

"And you'll tell *me* -- shit, that -- no. No. Not that, okay? Because if we talk about how young you are, and how fucking *sweet* --"

"*Sweet*? And I'm only two years younger than *you* --"

"And you think B doesn't want you. You think --" Jay growls and shakes himself. "Wanna fucking shake *you* --"

"I'd rather you *avoid* that --"

"That code. That was the ultimate sanction code, wasn't it. The thing *you* get to use to make Bruce *and* Batman follow *your* lead no matter fucking what."

"Yes, but --"

"You think Dick had one of those? Me?"

Tim blinks. "I -- he spoke of... mistakes he'd made with both of you --"

"Uh, hunh, sure, and I bet he even --" Jay shakes his head. "He talked about giving me a code like that at the end. That's one of the things that made me *relax* inside, because it made me realize that he *did* trust me, and *did* want to listen to me, and -- fuck, I knew he *needed* me out there -- I knew it from pretty damned early on -- but it made me realize that *he* knew he needed me. That he'd *always* known it, even through that huge wall of *fear* in his head. Even through the *bad* times."

"Yes, he -- he's *always* needed --"

"Robin, yeah. He told me about that little quote of yours when he was trying to get me to fucking cope. Heh. Made me madder at the time."

Tim winces --

"Wanna touch you."

Tim -- doesn't grip at his own arms. "I... would not be averse."

Jay looks Tim over *slowly* -- "Would we wind up fucking like animals, do you think? Instead of talking more?"

"Ah... would you keep looking at me like that?"

"Nah. There's probably actual *intelligence* in my eyes right *now*, after all," Jay says, and grins.

Tim snorts. "Jay."

Jay jerks his chin at Tim. "He didn't actually *give* me the code, you know. Not then."

"I -- but he was going to."

"Yeah, he was. I believe that. But he *hadn't*. *Yet*. How long did he wait before giving it to you?"

"I -- he did it as soon as I was sanctioned. Before I sanctioned *myself*."

"You -- of course you didn't rush out onto the street as soon as you could. You were..." Jay licks his lips. "You're a lot more careful than that. You lay back in the tall grass a little, yeah?"

Tim represses a shiver for the *relish* in Jay's voice -- "It is... it's often the better choice."

"Yeah. I didn't start learning that until *after* I'd been resurrected. It's still not *natural* to me, but... yeah. I know how it works now. I know how to *plan* shit sometimes, which -- heh. B tried so hard to teach me, and he would give me these *rueful* looks when he'd tell me stories about how Dick was *just* as fucking likely to dive into things head-first -- except for how he'd be doing it backwards and in even less armor." Jay snorts. "I told B he had a type, and he got that one *extra* crazy look in his eyes. The one that had the volume turned *way* up from all his other crazy looks, because he wasn't *just* thinking about fucking me, or fucking Dick, he was thinking about fucking both of us at *once*. Or, well, it was him -- even thinking about being allowed to *smell* me and Dick fucking *without* him would be enough to put that look on his face."

That -- Tim laughs quietly. "I find that I sympathize. And empathize. And am quietly and distressingly longing for scratch-and-sniff masturbatory fantasies."

Jay snickers and grins. "Yeah, you fuckin' stalker. I wish you *had* caught me and Dick fucking one of those times when we did it. You woulda learned something."

"How to give a better blowjob?"

Jay *snorts*. "Okay, no, because you fucking -- you have a *gift*, first of all, and whoever you're blowing better be fucking *worth* it. Nah, you woulda learned to dive head-first down Dickie's *tights*, which is something *every-fucking-body* needs to do at least three or four or eighty-five times. What were you *thinking*?"

"That he didn't --"

"You thought *he* didn't want you? Are you -- how bad *is* your self-esteem?"

"Jay, it's *Dick*. He doesn't actually *wait* to make love with the people he wants --"

"Yeah, but *they* have to make the first move. *Always*. Dick wouldn't know how to fuckin' *seduce* someone if you wrote it all down for him in one-syllable words in *Romani* and also had lots of pretty, colorful pictures. His head doesn't *work* that way. How do you not know that?"

Tim -- blushes. "I -- ah. I'm not much for... first moves."

Jay frowns and searches him for a long moment, moving closer --

Tim can't keep himself from *also* moving closer --

"Aw -- fuck, yeah," and Jay pulls him into a kiss, hard and deep and --

Tim moans and tries to coax Jay's tongue *deeper* --

And Jay nods and *fucks* Tim's mouth, cupping Tim's face and holding it perfectly in position --

Holding it *still* --

Tim grips Jay's *hips* --

Jay nods more and pulls *back* -- but only to suck Tim's lips, and bite them, *pull* on them with his teeth --

Tim *growls* --

Jay lets go -- "Wanna fuckin' *do* you --"

"Jay --"

"Wanna -- have to *talk* to you, tell you -- fuckin' *show* you --"

And Tim *grunts* into Jay's mouth for the force of the next kiss, for the way it would have driven Tim *back* if Jay wasn't holding *on* --

Tim's mouth *hurts* --

And then Jay works the hinges of Tim's *jaw* again, forcing Tim's mouth wide and licking his way in --

Licking everywhere in Tim's mouth he can *reach* --

"Sometimes. Sometimes I really fuckin' want a five-inch tongue."

Tim gurgles. It's the most *coherent* sound he can make while his mouth is this wide --

"I could. Could fuck you with it," Jay says, and licks Tim's lips --

Tim grunts --

"I just -- as an aside? I give *real* fucking good bj's. I mean -- they really were my *primary* source of income for a while there, man."

At what point are you going to call me 'baby' again? Am I going to correct you? Would it *be* a correction? What am I going to do when you're *sober* and you don't --

Jay bites Tim's *chin*. *Hard* --

"Nnh --"

"Where'd you go?"

"Ah -- neurotic places?"

Jay pants against Tim's mouth --

Groans --

Pulls *back* --

"Oh --"

"Is that you, baby?"

Oh, there it is. "Ah. You. What --"

Jay shakes himself all over. "Sorry. Sorry. It's just... uh. Okay, no, I don't have an excuse. At all," he says, and laughs painfully.

"It's --"

"Okay?" And Jay raises both of his eyebrows. He's flushed, and there's new sweat at his temples, and he --"You want me."

"Yes."

Jay breathes through his *mouth* -- and reaches down to stroke himself once --

Twice --

"Won't make you wait."

"Oh, good --"

Jay laughs breathlessly. "You're fuckin' funny. I *love* that."

I love you -- "I've wanted. I've wanted to make you laugh --"

"You like it?"

"I -- love it."

Jay narrows his eyes and squeezes his penis *hard* --

"You should probably let me --"

"Nuh-uh. Wanna *think* a little longer, baby. Wanna -- wait, not that --"

"*Why* do you want to call me that?"

"I -- uh. I promise it has nothing to do with diapers?"

Tim -- stares.

Jay snorts and snickers -- and, thankfully, *stops* stroking himself. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I just -- fuck, I feel a little -- not. Fuck. I feel close to you. A *lot* close to you, and shit comes outta my *mouth* when that happens --"

"Who else was your *baby*?"

"Uh. No one?" Jay laughs *nervously*, pushing his -- relatively -- clean hand back through his hair. "Everybody... everybody gets a nickname of their own."

"Ah. Pet name?"

"Pet -- okay, I *know* you would fucking *love* getting leashed sometime --"

Tim *grunts* --

"God, I fucking love your *blushes*. Wanna lick you all over when you do that. Wanna fucking bite your *cheeks* --"

"You can --"

Jay growls and steps *back* --

"*Jay* --"

"C'mere and bend over the gurney, b-- fuck --"

"You -- you can call me --"

"*Thank* you, I will *totally* not do it in public -- much --"

Tim snorts --

"Come on, c'mere, I'll fucking -- I'm gonna fuck you *hard*, okay?"

Tim's *knees* shake --

"Aw, Jesus, fuck -- *please*," Jay says, and squeezes himself so *hard* --

Moans --

*Stares* --

And Tim can move, and even walk --

Tim can try to show a little *grace* --

"Too much *control*," Jay says, gripping the back of Tim's neck and *shoving* Tim down over the gurney --

"*Fuck*, Jay --"

"Uh, hunh," and Jay grips Tim harder and -- spanks him --

"Jay --"

Again --

"Fuck -- you -- oh my *God* --"

"Wanna bite these cheeks, too, baby. Wanna just -- I was *always* covered in bite marks from B --"

"*Hnh* --"

"Yeah. *Everywhere* the Robin suit covered. Did you watch him doin' me *that* way?"

"Yes -- *nnh* -- *nnh* --"

"You like my hand."

"Both -- both of them --"

Jay laughs and spanks Tim faster --

*Harder* --

"Fucking -- stop me --"

"Don't -- I don't *want* to, Jay!"

"Aw, fuck -- spread your *legs*, baby --"

Tim does it -- and *yells*, because Jay spanks his *scrotum* --

"That sounded -- are you *surprised*?"

"I -- I -- *please*!"

Jay pants and *grips* Tim's scrotum --

Tim's knees won't *hold* him -- no, no, he can hold the gurney, *clutch* the gurney --

Yell *more* when Jay squeezes --

So --

"You make me so *hard*, baby. You make me --" And Jay growls and starts *pumping* Tim's scrotum --

"Ahn!"

"Yeah, fuck --"

"*Jay* --"

"*Louder*!"

"*Jay*!"

"Tell me it fucking *hurts*," Jay says, and squeezes even *harder* --

Tim bites a *scream* into the gurney mattress --

"*Tell* me!"

"Hurts! It *hurts*!"

"Tell me you fucking --"

"I like it! I *like* it!"

"Fuck *me*, you're so --" And Jay growls again and lets *go* with both *hands* --

"*No*!"

"*Slick*, baby. I'm comin' *right* back," Jay says, leaning in and biting the back of Tim's neck *hard* --

Tim groans and feels himself *open*, feels himself *twitch* --

Jay *pants* against the back of Tim's neck --

Pants and *stays* there --

Tim's hands spasm on the sheets --

"You. Fuck --" And Jay bites his way down Tim's *back* --

"*Jay*!"

"Yeah -- *fuck*, yeah, you're just like *me*," he says, and scrapes his teeth at the base of Tim's spine --

Tim whimpers and pushes up on his toes --

"Good boy. Fucking -- fucking *best* boy," Jay says, and *spreads* Tim --

Tim whimpers and spreads his legs wider, tries --

He needs --

He *needs*, and his perineum feels so tight, so stretched, so *bare* --

His hole is --

Jason can see him *clenching*, and --

"Can't -- I fucking --" Jay growls again and *licks* him --

Tim jerks and *shouts* --

"*Don't* fucking say no --"

"*Jay*!"

"Not -- not *yet*," Jay says, and shoves his tongue *in* --

So --

But Jay groans before Tim can even *begin* trying to figure out how he *feels* about the sensations --

So wet --

So wet and --

It's *moving* in him, moving so *fast*, and Tim has never *had* anything inside him that *he* wasn't moving, not like this, not like --

He can't *control* it --

Tim clenches *hard* --

But Jay is groaning *again*, and spreading Tim *wider*, and the vibration of it is making Tim whimper and *claw* at the gurney --

And *sob* when Jay starts moving his tongue again, starts *thrusting* his tongue --

So *fast*, and there's only one thing he wants now --

There's only one thing he can *take* now, because Jay's tongue is good, and it *feels* like it's going deeper than is strictly --

Possible --

And Tim can't *think*, because Jay is *moaning*, moaning *continuously*, and he's spreading Tim even wider, and it *hurts* --

And he's kissing Tim. Kissing --

But that's a small word for it. That's -- even for this, even for *Jay*, who apparently takes kissing at least as seriously as Steph does --

So gentle, that first kiss, and he wants to start *over*, and Tim knows that's what he was trying to *say* now, knows that's what he'd wanted Tim to --

"I understand!" But that was barely *language*, because Tim is salivating -- *drooling* on himself and the gurney and *chewing* on the sheets --

And Jay is making love to Tim's hole with his mouth. Jay is --

Jay is 'kinda oral', and there is no part of Tim which will ever be able to forget that, or even stop *understanding* --

So *wet* --

Tim *clenches* -- and this time he can't relax himself, can't let *go* of Jay's tongue, so hungry --

Tim is blushing so *hard* --

Tim is *shaking* on his toes --

His penis is starting to *hurt* for every twitch, every --

Jay is kissing him over and *over* again --

"Ple--" But he can't get the rest of that *word* out, because Jay *wiggles* his tongue, and nothing that dirty and ridiculous should make him flex like this, *drop* like this, onto his heels --

His right knee buckles --

And Jay *lifts* Tim back up onto his toes and *holds* him there, *growls* into Tim's ass and kisses him harder --

Kisses him *again* --

Kisses him again and again and -- pulls back. "Tim..." He sounds breathless, he sounds --

His voice is low, but *not* hoarse --

But of course he wasn't doing anything with his *throat* --

Just his *tongue*, and clenching around nothing makes Tim sob *loudly* --

"*Fuck*, are you *okay*?"

Oh -- "I -- Jay, I --" But Tim doesn't know what *words* come after that, doesn't --

He tries to stand up, but his legs start *trembling* --

He *falls* back into a bent position --

Jay squeezes Tim's hips so *hard* -- "Fuck, baby, c'mon, tell me..."

Tim opens his mouth and *groans* --

"Jesus -- so fucking hot, and -- it's too much for you right now, yeah?"

"Yes -- don't -- I."

"I could *feel* that, and I -- love fucking *tasting* you --"

Tim clenches again --

*Sobs* again --

"*Jay* --"

"You need somethin' hard."

"Please --"

"You need somethin' -- I'll take care of you, baby. I'll always -- fuck, just --" Jay pants and stands behind him, stands *over* him -- "You don't have to tell me. I *know* no one ever rimmed you out before..."

Tim whimpers and nods, scrubbing his face against the sheets --

"Makes me feel just like that. Makes me -- you're so -- fucking stay there. *Right* there."

"Yes -- yes -- *ahn* --"

Jay is *clawing* down Tim's back as he pulls away --

Moves *away* --

The world is so much *colder* --

Tim bites off another sob in the sheets and shakes, shakes so *much* --

"Just -- just lookin' for the slick, baby. I can't even *think* straight," Jay says, and Tim can hear him *rummaging* --

He can focus on that sound, and on Jay's ragged breaths --

On anything other than the way he can't stop *clenching* --

He's so *wet*, and he can't --

He's making *noise* as he breathes, and he's --

No, he can focus, just focus, just *wait* --

"Oh, baby, you -- God, I -- I'll *stop* looking, we can do something else --"

"Please --"

"Yeah? I'm comin' back over there?"

"No, fuck me, please, *please* --"

Jay growls -- "You know I wanna touch you, right? Wanna fuckin' *hold* you --"

"*Jay* --"

"Fuck, tell me where --"

"Drawer --"

"I'm *looking* in the -- wait, why the fuck is that cabinet disguised to look like a fucking *server*?"

*Fuck* -- "*Trap* --"

"No, I see it, no worries, and I just --" Jay grunts -- "Yeah, there. But at some point you gotta fucking explain why the *lube* is locked up like Fort fucking *Knox* --"

"Just -- just to punish curiosity --"

Jay *snorts* -- "Fuck, baby, whose idea -- no, it was totally yours, wasn't it," and Jay slips the tube of medical grade lubricant under Tim's abdomen and *covers* him --

Tim *moans* --

"You can tell me. I promise it'll just get me harder," Jay says, and shifts --

And Tim *grunts*, because Jay's penis is *nestled* in his cleft --

"Just need... a couple minutes to let that get *warm*. Shoulda thought of that -- fuck, you feel good," and Jay *thrusts* --

"*Ahn* --"

"Yeah, hunh? Make that noise again."

"I -- I -- *ahn*!"

"Fuck, that's -- you're so motherfucking *sexy*," Jay says, and starts thrusting hard and fast --

*Slick* and fast --

"You're so -- *tell* me things --"

"I set up the trap! All of -- oh, *God* --"

"Yeah. Yeah, *right* on your hole. You like that?"

"*Yes* --"

"You want more?"

"Please -- *please* --"

Jay grunts and *grinds* --

Shifts --

And now every thrust drags the head of his *dripping* penis over Tim's hole, drags and -- and *pushes* --

Tim *groans* --

"Yeah. You're gonna beg for my cock, aren't you."

"Please *fuck* me!"

Jay grunts and thrusts *hard* -- "Should be beggin' you. Should be -- c'mon, what would that trap have done to me?"

"Pain darts -- and -- ohn -- *ohn* -- *please* --"

"And what, baby? What *else*."

"Sedative --"

"Aww, too *nice* --"

"Has -- *nnh* -- has a paralytic --"

Jay growls and bites the back of Tim's neck --

"*Please*!"

"Lasts a long time, doesn't it."

"Yes --"

"Makes you -- fuck. You can do anything to someone on a paralytic --"

Tim grunts again and *bucks* --

Blushes *hard* --

Feels Jay *staring* at him --

"Tim..."

"Jay, I --"

"Shh, baby. You, uh." Wet sound --

"Did you. Did you lick your --"

"Licked my lips, baby. Licked my lips 'cause I was thinking about licking your ass while you couldn't even *squirm*."

Tim winces and hears himself make an -- an *animal* sound --

"Fuck, yeah. You want it, don't you."

"Jay --"

"You wanna be *controlled*."

"I -- please, Jay --"

"I'll work you over, baby. I'll fuckin' *take* you over and make you love every fuckin' *second* of it --" And Jay growls again --

*Bites* Tim again --

Thrusts and thrusts and --

And Tim is moaning for it and moving and --

And *trying* to move, because Jay is so big, so heavy, so --

Holding him down and making him *take* this, and Tim --

"Jay, I'll *come*!"

Jay bites him *harder* --

Tim yells and clenches, flexes, *leaks* --

And Jay pulls *back*, bracing himself over Tim and panting, *grinding* -- "Time for me to get *in* you, baby. I'm not gonna finger you too much --"

"*Please*!"

"Please what? You *wanna* come from my fingers...?"

Tim cries *out* --

"Heh, that's a yes. Okay, then," Jay says, and tugs the tube of lubricant out from under Tim --

Tim tries to think, tries to --

The sounds are so familiar, but he's never *heard* them when it wasn't his *own* hands --

Jay is going to be *inside* him --

Jay is still -- still *nestled* --

Jay is going to make him *come*, and that --

Tim wants --

Tim *sobs* --

"Shh, baby, it's okay. I got you," Jay says, pulling back and spreading Tim with one hand, pushing in with two -- "Fuck, *tight* --"

Two *fingers* --

"Can you even --"

Tim groans and clenches *helplessly* --

"Easy, *easy* --"

"*No* --"

"Tim --"

"*Fuck* me!"

And Jay *pants* and holds himself *still*. Holds *Tim* still with a hand on his hip --

*Gripping* his hip, and it's so hard, and it's something else he's *dreamed* of, and he can *smell* Jay, smell them both --

He can still --

"Jay, I can still *taste* you!"

"Fucking -- fucking ditto. You." Jay growls again and crooks his fingers --

Tim *screams* --

"You *loved* that."

"*Yes*! *Please*!"

"I loved it, too. I want -- fucking *fuck*. I told you I'd do anything you wanted, didn't I?"

"Yes --"

"Told you I *wanted* it," Jay says, and pulls most of the way out --

"*Please* --"

"Fucking *need* it, baby. Need you to make *this* sound," Jay says, and *shoves* in --

"*Yes*!"

"Oh, baby, you -- fuck. *Don't* come from this. Don't come until I give you my *cock*."

"Jay -- *ahn* -- *AHN* --"

"Yeah. Yeah, you need it hard. I knew it. I *knew* it, and I just -- you get me so fucking *crazy* --"

"*Jay* --"

"You make me fucking *need* to hurt you."

"*Anything*!"

Jay growls and crooks his fingers *hard* --

Tim screams *again*, and *again*, and Jay's fingers are so thick, so much thicker than *his*, and long --

So *deep* --

They're almost as deep inside him as one of his longer *toys*, but they're warm --

So hard and warm and *thick*, and Tim can't focus on how Jay is moving them, can't focus on moving himself in rhythm, can't --

"See you fucking drooling for it, baby..."

Tim *groans* --

"See you... yeah. There's nothing about this you don't love. Is there."

And Tim wants to --

He can't figure out if he's supposed to nod or shake his *head*, can't --

"Jay -- *NNH* --"

"Yeah, harder now, baby --"

"Please --"

"You can take it for me, can't you?"

"For -- *yes*!"

"You *wanna* take it."

"Yes, yes -- oh, God, your *fingers* --"

"*In* you, baby. Nice and deep. Nice and -- mm. Here," Jay says, and crooks again --

"Jay --"

*Again* --

"Jay, *please!"

"Close again, right?"

"Yes -- no -- I don't --"

"You don't know? Okay," Jay says, letting go of Tim's hip --

"Please, I --" But that was a *bark* --

"Fuckin' love *that* sound," Jay says, and *keeps* pulling on Tim's scrotum -- "Think I can get you to make it while I'm fucking you?"

"Nn -- I -- you -- *fuck* --"

Jay *laughs* --"Yeah, no, I hear you. Here." And Jay *pumps* Tim's scrotum --

"*Jay*!"

Pumps it in the opposite rhythm to his *thrusts* --

"Ohn -- oh my God -- oh my *God* --"

"Bet you never call on *any* of the gods most of the time --"

"Don't -- I *don't*!"

"Yeah. *That's* flattering. Heh. You shouldn't do it, at all --"

"*You* --"

"When *I* do it? I'm thinkin' about the All-Mother, baby. No matter *what* I say. She *likes* me," Jay says, and squeezes *hard* --

"I want to talk!"

"Right now?"

"*No*!" And Tim laughs helplessly, *breathlessly* --

Jay *snickers* -- and lets go of Tim's scrotum to grip his hip again -- "Here, this rhythm," Jay says, and pulls him --

Moves him --

Moves him into thrust after *thrust*, and it's so warm, so fluid, so *right* that Tim feels himself salivating again, feels himself needing to writhe and jerk *while* doing exactly what Jay *makes* him do. Tim is sweating and covered in gooseflesh at the same *time* --

Tim is groaning and --

"Better -- it's *better* --"

Jay grunts. "Better than you've had, baby?" And he sounds *surprised* --

He doesn't know -- "*Everything*!" And Tim hopes that's enough, hopes it *means* enough, because the words aren't coming, because he's afraid Jay would stop if the words *did* come --

Jay is *panting* again -- "A little more. Just a little, and then I'm fuckin' *burying* myself in you --"

"*PLEASE* --"

"Yeah. *Fuck*, yeah," Jay says, and starts spreading his fingers, *twisting* his fingers --

Tim bites the *sheets* --

"*No*." And Jay slaps his *ass* --

Tim cries *out* --

"Gimme *all* your noise, baby, fucking *all* of it --"

"Yes! I'm *sorry* --"

"Not like I'm sorry. *Not* like I am," Jay says, and thrusts even harder *while* twisting his fingers --

Tim clenches helplessly --

"*Open*!"

And Tim pushes up on his toes *while* flexing open, stunned blind and helpless to do anything but *grunt* for the heat of it, the burn --

The burn that will get even *better* --

"*Hurts* --"

"I *know*. You're gonna be *ready* for my cock --"

"I'm ready *now*!"

Jay growls like *Bruce* --

Tim clenches *hard* -- 

"Nnh -- fuck, baby, shoulda known *that* would do it for ya. Does it for me, too. Does it for me all the fucking -- heh. Does it for me *just* as much as this does, and I -- *open*."

Tim groans and *tries* --

"Do it *now*, Tim, 'cause I'm not making *either* of us wait --"

Tim flexes *open* --

"*Good* boy," Jay says, and pulls *out* -- steadily and *not* slowly, and Tim is groaning again, panting --

Needing so *much* --

"Fuck, your little hole's so fucking *swollen* already," and -- slick sounds --

So --

"If Bruce were here, he'd be licking you again, baby," Jay says, and presses --

"No, he -- oh, God -- oh, I can feel --"

"Yeah, feel *this*." And Jay *pants* as he pushes --

Pushes *in*, and he's big, of course he's big, Tim's had him in his mouth --

In his sore *throat* --

He's big and he's hot and he's *blunt*, hard, but *not* like the toys, *nothing* like the toys, and even knowing *intellectually* that it would be like that --

"If -- fuck -- ah, *fuck*, you're still so *tight* --"

"Don't *stop*!"

"*No* fucking worries, baby. You -- heh. If Clark were here? He'd be *sucking* on your little -- your little hole --"

Tim *grunts* --

"No fucking reason in the *world* for you not to have hit *that*. Clark *does* make the first fucking -- move -- Jesus, fuck, so tight all around me --"

"Are you -- are you -- oh, *Jay* --"

"Am I *what*, baby?"

"In --"

"Not all the fucking way, not --"

"*Please*!"

"I -- heh. Nnh. You -- okay, here's the deal," Jay says, gripping Tim's hips and pulling as he *thrusts* --

Tim *screams* --

And Jay's penis spasms *inside* him, moves and --

It should move *him* --

It should move him as much as Jay's groans, Jay's curses, Jay's shaking *hands* --

Tim clenches --

"Fuck *me*."

Tim flexes *open*, and he has to move, he has to -- he has to *take*, and it only takes a moment to shift --

To *shout* --

To give himself *leverage* to work himself on Jay's penis, take it, *take* it --

And then Jay growls again, *grips* Tim, and uses his legs to spread Tim's and knock him off *balance*.

"Jay, *please*!"

"The thing *is*," Jay says, and thrusts *up* --

"*Fuck*!"

"I'm not gonna last. *Again*. Jesus fucking -- I *swear* I'm fuckin' better than this, Tim," he says, and thrusts again --

"I -- I --"

"I'm gonna -- fuck. Gonna do you again, though. I don't care *how* much it hurts --"

"Oh, fuck, *please*!"

"Don't -- don't care how much it hurts *either* of us, baby, you -- fuck -- Jesus -- Mother --"

"What --" But the rest of that is a *yowl*, because he can feel Jay, feel Jay all through himself, feel him fucking and needing and *touching*, and it's warm, so warm, and he can't *breathe* --

Jay is --

Jay is *inside* him, and the connection is so full, so --

*Rising* in him, and Tim can feel every plant in the miniature greenhouse --

"No, *focus*," Jay *growls*, and it's like being tied down, like being spread, like being filled and fucked and *ridden*, because Jay *is* all through him, is --

He can feel --

He can feel *need*, so much of it, and pain for not *having* what you need --

What *Jay* needs -- "*Jay*!"

"Didn't -- didn't fucking *take* what you offered --"

"Now --"

"Didn't fucking -- I *need* you!"

He can feel it, he can see it taste it smell it *have* it, have it with every part of him and his penis is twitching and his heart is pounding and and --

Tim's *eyes* roll back --

He *sobs* --

"Fuck, I can feel -- can't hold on, can't -- you're *human*, and I fucking -- *feel* this," Jay says, and for a moment Tim is only cold, only alone in his own skin and *frightened* --

But then Jay thrusts hard, so *hard* --

Then he does it again, again and again and --

So *hard*, and every thrust is *shoving* Tim up onto his toes, every --

It's impossible to be cold, and it's impossible to be frightened, and it's impossible to be *anything* but hot and alive and screaming, loving, *loving* --

And he can *say* it, he can be *brave* --

He can *give* Jay himself, and show him that it's all right, that everything is, that there's such a thing as second chances -- third and fourth ones --

It hurts so *much*, and he --

"I love you!"

"*Fuck* --" And Jay's rhythm stutters, Jay's body *falters* --

But only for a moment before he's growling like an *animal* and fucking him harder, harder and --

"*Fuck* me, *fuck* me -- *Tim*!"

He *slams* in --

Tim can't get *air* to scream -- and he stops regretting that *immediately*, because it lets him hear Jay's *desperate* grunts as he ejaculates again and *again*.

He's --

It's so *wet* --

His penis is spasming *randomly* and --

Tim *clenches* --

Jay barks and *thrusts* --

They *both* shout --

And then Jay *grips* Tim's wrists and pins them. And holds them. And growls, long and low.

It *makes* Tim flex open --

"No, baby. No. Just. Fucking clench *hard*."

"You -- you're sensitive --"

"I really fucking am. And I *need* to get used to it *fast* so I can *ream* you."

Tim whimpers --

"Unless -- is it too much for you? Is it -- oh, fuck. Oh, *fuck*, *Tim*!"

"Jay? What --"

"You're a motherfucking *virgin*!"

"Ah." Tim licks his lips --

"Don't -- don't even fucking *try* --"

"Technically --"

"Don't fucking --"

"-- I'm no longer a virgin," Tim says, and smiles ruefully. "I'm really *exceedingly* pleased about that --"

"Fuck fuck *fuck* --"

"Jay --"

"You -- you can't just -- and I *felt* you, felt your *emotions* --"

"Oh. Oh, Jay, I felt *yours* --"

"I *wanted* you to, I needed --"

"You... don't anymore?"

Jay growls and *grinds* in --

"Oh, *fuck*, Jay --"

"Feel how hard I am for you, baby? Feel how fucking -- *MOTHER*!"

And the connection *slams* through Tim again, fills him with warmth and worry --

Surrounds him with warmth and hunger and *confusion* --

Surrounds him and holds him, *holds* him, and Tim can't *breathe* -- no, he *can*, but it's like breathing *in* warmth, like --

Like *choosing* to fill himself with Jay, and -- Tim knows Jay needs him to make that choice.

Tim knows Jay needs a *lot* of things from him, needs to --

There's such a sense of *home*, or comfort, or -- no, home is the right word for it, and family is *another* right word, and Tim has to hold everything, *take* everything, *grip* --

Jay *groans* --

Jay starts *thrusting* again, so slick and *hard* --

The warmth is *overpowering*, and Tim is *aware* of his penis twitching *violently*, but mostly he's aware that this is how Jay wants to hold him, wants to *keep* him --

"Fuck, *yes* --"

Tim cries out and *clenches* --

Jay hisses between his *teeth* --

And, this time, the connection between them *fades* more than it breaks, slipping out and away from Tim until everything is the feel of Jay fucking him *slowly*, giving him what they both need and taking the most connection they can have.

The most they can *hold*.

Tim arches up enough to bare the back of his neck, to *offer* --

"*Yeah*," Jay says, and his voice is strangled, *pained* --

He leans in and *bites* --

He growls and *shifts*, holding *on* as he fucks Tim, as he --

And the thrusts are so smooth, so *easy* even when  Tim starts to feel raw, starts to feel the *painful* kinds of hot, of hungry, of *ready* -- "You -- you need me --"

Jay bites *harder* --

And Tim knows it's a reward *and* encouragement. "You need me *close*."

Jay starts thrusting *faster* --

Tim groans -- no. "You need me -- you want me *with* you!"

Jay stops biting and licks up into Tim's *hair* -- "More. So much fucking --"

"Please --"

"I'd fucking *take* you from Bruce if you *let* me, baby --"

Tim clenches and screams *briefly* for the *flare* of pain --

"I'd fucking -- but you wanna bring me --"

"*Home*!"

Jay groans and shifts -- and now every thrust *drags* against Tim's prostate --

"Fuck -- oh, *fuck* --"

"Take you. Take you back to my place, baby. You can *make* it home --"

"Fuck, I -- I've been told I have bizarre and horrifying taste in -- in interior decoration --"

Jay's laugh is breathless and *explosive* -- but he doesn't lose his rhythm, he doesn't --

Not even for a *moment* --

"Love your sense of humor. Love your fucking timing. Love -- you don't *love* me --"

"Jay --"

"You can't --"

Tim *clenches*, hard enough that they *both* shout --

"Fuck, oh, fuck, I felt you, I felt you, baby, wanna feel you all the *time* --"

"You *can* --"

"Shouldn't fucking -- shouldn't let me *work* on you with all this magic --"

"*Anything*!"

Jay pants and groans -- "Clench again, do it, hurt us --"

Tim clenches --

"-- *both*, *fuck* -- yeah, oh, yeah, love the sounds you make, love --"

Tim is *whimpering*, clawing at the sheets and *holding* the clench --

Jay *whines*, thrusting faster -- "I'd do fucking *anything*, just like you, just like me --"

"Wanted -- always *wanted* --"

"Shoulda fucking *had* it -- fuck *me*, this hurts so fucking perfectly, so *right* --"

"Yes --"

"You can -- you *take* this so *good* --"

"I *love* you!"

"*Tim*!"

And Tim knows there *are* words after that, knows that Jay is *speaking*, but the thrusts are so --

The *fuck* is so hard, so *steady* and hard, and Tim knows that Jay is trying to give him exactly what he wants, exactly what he *needs* --

And whether it's a matter of what Jay felt from him, or what Jay has picked up from all of his *deeply* problematic experience, or what Jay can do because he's just that *good* --

It's perfect. It's hot and rough and -- and *driving* and perfect, and Tim can't even cry out in rhythm anymore, can't do anything but yowl for every breath he *manages* to take and work his hips in the *tight* grind which is the only motion Jay is *allowing*. It's --

It's so *hot*, yes, and it *hurts*, and Tim doesn't think he's ever *been* this hard, didn't think it was possible to feel this *good* without Bat-sedatives to develop a tolerance to and Bat-rubdowns to take because --

Because Bruce wanted to touch -- no. No, this, just this, and it's hurting Jay, too, and he'd wanted --

He'd wanted Tim to hurt him, too, to *take* --

But Jay's hands are shaking on Tim's wrists --

Jay is groaning and *dripping* with sweat --

Jay is making Tim want to lick *himself*, but mostly he's making Tim want --

Need --

Tim flexes open and moans again, long and low and desperate, so --

"*Fuck*, baby, I can't -- can't fucking --"

"*Fast*!"

"Are you -- fuck -- oh, fuck, you feel so *good* like this, just like *this*," Jay says, and he's pleading, pleading for the chance to take *care* of Tim, to be --

Tim had *heard* that abortive promise, heard --

Jay can't *lie* --

And Tim *won't* hold back . "*Show* me, Jay! Show me how it *feels*!"

Jay *barks* again --

*Again* --

And *keeps* doing it as he thrusts faster, so much --

Faster and *faster* until Tim loses the ability to speak again, loses the ability to do anything but yell for it --

Clench --

Jay squeezes Tim's wrists hard enough to *hurt* --

Tim flexes open and *wails* --

Jay barks *again* -- "Nngh -- *fuck* -- that *sound* --" And then he moves one hand to Tim's hip and the other hand to Tim's *penis* --

Tim *chokes* on a scream --

He can't breathe --

He can't *focus* --

He can't -- but he can *move* now, push up on his hands for leverage and *work* --

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck --" Jay bites Tim's throat and *growls* --

Tim wants to stop *gurgling* enough to say yes, wants to *encourage* -- no, he can do that other *ways*. He drops to his heels and counts *off* --

Jay *grunts* against his neck and starts to pull back --

But Tim finds the rhythm, *takes* the rhythm, works himself and --

Jay growls again and bites *hard* --

And Tim *shouts*, smiling helplessly and moving, *moving*, and it's so fast, so --

So raw and sweet and *fast*, and they're together, *perfectly* together, and it couldn't be better if they'd been working together, training --

But Jay wants to *do* that, wants --

Wants to take Tim --

Home --

Tim's rhythm stutters --

His *mind* --

"C'mon, c'mon, please --"

"*Yes*!" And Tim  can keep moving, keep --

"*Fuck* -- you're so fucking *good*, so fucking -- baby -- oh, *baby* --" And Jay is biting him everywhere he can *reach* --

Squeezing Tim's *penis* and giving him pain *that* way, giving him so much --

So much *warmth*, and Jay wants to *surround* him --

"You *can*!" And Tim knows that didn't make sense, knows it was --

Jay *licks* him from his throat to his ear -- "Baby -- baby, show me how you -- fuck so -- show me how you fucking *spank* it!"

Tim clenches --

They both *yell* --

And for a moment Tim *can't* move his hand, can't do anything but hold the rhythm, *keep* it --

"Please -- *please*, Tim!"

"Jay --"

"Lemme make you come your fuckin' *brains* out!"

And Tim *grunts* just for the sound of --

The *feel* of those words, and how they go right through him, how everything they *mean* goes right through him, because Jay is fucking him --

Jay is making *love* to him, whether or not he ever puts it *that* way, and it's *more* than what Tim's dreamed, *better* because Jay is sweating for it, panting and groaning, *begging* with every squeeze, every bite, every *lick* --

"Tim. I don't want. I don't want it to end, either..."

Tim grunts and feels his knees -- no, he can stand, he can balance and *stand* --

"We'll do it *again*, baby. Again and -- ah, fuck, you feel -- when you *clench* like that --"

Tim nods and shudders, nods and -- *fuck*, again sounds so perfect, again sounds like --

He *yanks* his right hand away from the sheets and fumbles with Jay's hand on his penis --

"Yeah, oh, yeah, *together*, baby --"

And Tim is groaning as they twine their fingers together --

They're still rocking together, still *moving* together, and Tim's motions are *mostly* smooth now, but this --

This *stroke* --

"Baby --"

"*Jay* --"

"Oh, baby, you do it so *hard*," Jay says, and he sounds *mournful*, sounds *hungry* --

"I'm -- I'm sorry --"

"Don't, it's fucking -- I'll *always* make -- make you *hurt*."

"Thank --" But Tim is screaming, Tim is --

His head is thrown back and he's rigid when he's not jerking, screaming when he's not --

Screaming, over and over, because Jay is stroking him perfectly and fucking him harder, *slower* and harder --

"Yeah. *Yeah*. Just -- fuck. Just for you, baby --"

Tim wants --

"I just haven't -- haven't *needed* like this in so long -- but you love me --"

Tim wants to say Jay's *name*, wants to -- but he can't stop *screaming* --

And Jay bites Tim's ear *hard* --

Tim has no rhythm at *all* --

"Stay *still*!"

Tim *slumps* on his hand, braces himself and takes, just *takes*, and Jay *is* reaming him, stroking him and fucking him and grunting like he's being *hit* --

"Do you -- do you every fucking *day*, baby --"

Tim sobs and *blanks* --

"-- you *bleed* if you -- if you fucking *want* --"

Oh --

Oh, *God* --

And for a moment it feels like he's on *fire* everywhere below the waist, but it resolves to the feeling of clenching *while* Jay squeezes --

"I'll love you, I'll *love* you, baby, you -- my *brother* --"

And then the fire is everywhere, in his head in his chest in his --

He can feel himself clenching *hard*, feel himself spasming, feel himself on the edge of a *fall* --

But Jay *holds* him through it, through the screams and power and pleasure and *heat* --

Through every *spurt*, and Tim is still clenching, still --

But is he screaming? Is he --

He can't see *or* hear, but the heat is enough, the --

Oh, God, he's still *spurting*, and he *does* want to bleed someday, wants to have --

A good reason --

And he can --

There's sobbing now, between the screams, there's -- it feels so good to let it *out*, and the tears are hot on his cheeks, cool where the air hits them --

Jay *licks* --

Tim spurts *again* -- and this time the feeling seems to cut his internal strings, focus, *ability*. He slumps --

He slumps in Jay's *arms* --

He shivers and *groans* --

"Oh, *yeah*, baby, I -- gonna let me hold you?"

Tim can't do anything *but* groan --

"That's a yes as far as I'm concerned, but -- fuck. I need -- I need to come --"

"*Ohn* --" And Tim tries to stand, tries to --

"Easy, fuck, you -- can you *take* --"

Tim tries to say *yes*, but another groan comes out. He settles for nodding, for doing his best to *drape* himself over the gurney, to spread his legs --

And Jay moans and lays him down, *presses* him down and pets him, squeezes him, *works* -- "*Fast*," he says, and Tim tries to *nod* --

Tim drags his wet face against the sheets and just --

Just keeps his mouth open for every moan, every whimper, every exhausted and half-*stunned* grunt as Jay fucks him and fucks him and *fucks* him, fast and *lighter* than before.

A part of Tim wants to ask if *this* is the best rhythm for him, if this is what he *likes* --

A part of Tim wants to reach down and make himself ready for another orgasm *faster* --

A part of Tim wants to be used, cut, spanked, *choked* --

He clenches --

Jason *whines* and *clutches* Tim's shoulders --

Whines *desperately*, *repeatedly*, like --

Tim blinks, and considers the other noises Jay has made tonight --

The other things he's *done* --

The behavior he's *responded* to from *Tim* --

The whine becomes *piteous* for a moment, and Jay is clawing at Tim's shoulders -- pawing?

"Tim -- *please* --" Another whine --

Oh, oh, Jay needs him to -- and he'd been *frowning*. Tim focuses and clenches *rhythmically* --

"Nngh -- oh, *fuck* -- but don't hurt your--" And Jay whines and laughs at *once*. "Fuck, what am I saying? Fucking *work* that ass!"

Tim *gasps* a laugh --

"Aw, yeah, unh -- yeah, make that sound, too --"

"Don't *stop*, Jay!"

"Fucking *can't* -- won't be -- won't be *long* --"

Tim laughs again and keeps clenching, keeps -- he can feel himself *flushing* harder, feel his body and mind buzzing with endorphins, *humming* --

"Fuck -- oh, fuck, you're not gonna be able to sit *down* --"

"I don't *care*!"

"Fucking sit on my *lap* sometime --"

Tim grunts and *blinks*, losing the rhythm of his clenches --

"No -- c'mon, please, *do* me --"

"*Yes*, Jay," Tim says, and starts clenching again, starts -- starts *growling* for the increasing sharpness and *heat* --

"Fuck, you -- uh -- I'll be your fuckin' *Daddy* --"

Tim *coughs* --

"No? Maybe?" And Jay snickers and pants and *grunts* and starts to grind, starts -- "No, wait, *this*," Jay says, and does something --

Something that makes his cock feel *bigger*, something that makes it feel like he's fucking Tim from all *sides* --

So -- so big and thick and --

"*Jay*!"

"Yeah. Yeah, you like this --"

"Jay, *please* --"

"Is it gonna get you hard again, baby?"

*Tim* whines --

"Shit -- fuck -- say *yes*, baby --"

"*Please*!"

"Wanna make you come 'til you pass *out* --"

"Your -- your -- please, I don't think --"

"It's too much. It's -- *sorry* --"

"No, don't -- I need you to *come* --"

"I need you, I need *you*, and -- *fuck*," Jay says, and bends down to cover Tim, shoving his arms under Tim's and gripping his shoulders from the front -- "This -- I love *this* position --"

"*Please* --"

"Lets me -- lets me fucking *hold* you --"

"*Yes* --"

"But you'll be my brother --"

"I *am* yours!"

And Jay *slams* in --

Again --

*Again* --

He's growling and *shouting* --

His fingers are going to leave *bruises* on Tim's shoulders --

And, for a moment, it seems as though their penises are spasming together, as though the *perfect* arousal for this moment can be perfectly *shared* --

"*Mother*," Jay *grits* --

And Tim's knees buckle as he *coughs* out a scream, as the *aroused* spasm of his penis becomes *ejaculatory* spasms --

He's not *hard* enough --

But it's happening again, and again, and all he can do is scream and cough and *take* it, *feel* it --

Feel it *burn* through him, feel the *energy* of it as Jay works them *both* through his orgasm, *fucks* them, *loves* --

*Loves* --

Black.

Black --

Tim *moves*, spinning to his feet and into a ready-position, scanning the --

Satellite Cave.

The thick, comfortable gurney-mattress has been moved to the floor.

He was apparently *on* the mattress, naked, with -- Jason Todd.

Who is still on it.

And is smiling up at him -- admiringly. *Lustfully*. *Cheerfully* --

Jason --

Judging by the contents of the trash, he'd had time to eat one of the MREs and two of the -- Steph-demanded -- chocolate-covered energy bars.

While Tim slept. He --

He'd then crawled back into *bed* with Tim --

Jason --

*Jay* --

Tim licks his lips and stands down. "I... good morning?"

"Fuck, yeah," and Jay waggles his thick and comfortably-arched eyebrows. "How much naked sparring have you done?"

Well... Tim laughs quietly and pushes a hand back over his -- hopelessly mussed -- hair. "Dick only made it slightly traumatic. Bruce did it first, though, and..."

"Yeah?"

"Well, it was wonderfully educational, in terms of teaching me precisely how awkward, amateurish, and dangerous-to-myself-and-others I could be when faced with... that."

Jay snickers and folds his arms behind his head, expression somewhat twistedly nostalgic. "I... heh. No," he says, and focuses on Tim again. "The drug's out of my system, by the way."

Damn. Fuck. *Fuck* -- no. Tim raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest. "Then I think this is where we talk."

Jay narrows his eyes slightly. "Are you gonna keep giving me honesty?"

"Are you?"

Jay takes... a shuddering breath. And turns away. And that --

Tim can't -- "Jay..."

"You could..."

"Yes?"

Jay blows *out* a breath and sits up, planting his left foot and fanning out his right leg under the sheet. And looking up at him. "How badly are we gonna fuck this up, Tim?"

Oh...

"I just wanna..." He frowns and shakes his head. "I was fucked-up, you were a fucking *virgin* --"

"Ah... a case could be made for the theory that we already... fucked this up."

"Yeah. That," Jay says, and that --

It *hurts* --

"But I don't think so, Tim. I don't..." He shakes his head. "Fuck, do *you*?"

That -- Tim's heart is pounding, just that fast, and he's *aware* of his nakedness the way he just *hasn't* been since those spars --

Painfully, uncomfortably --

*Needily* --

"I can get *gone*, and we can -- fuck, I think we *can* work together --"

"Yes --"

And Jay winces. He *winces*, and pushes the sheet down, and Tim realizes what he'd just --

Tim *moves*, dropping to his knees on the mattress and *gripping* Jay's shoulders --

"You -- you're fucking fast when you wanna be. Wanted to say that last --"

Tim kisses Jay, opens -- no. Tim pushes his hands into Jay's hair and *grips*, *pulls*, and Jay grunts and kisses him back, kisses him *hard* --

Tim's *face* hurts, but this --

He can't help moaning for it, *nodding* for it --

And then he's on his back and being moved, being pushed and pulled until he's *entirely* on the mattress and Jay is on him and moving, *pressing* --

Tim moans *loudly* --

And Jay pulls back and pants into his mouth -- and stares into him. He seems... off.

And Tim can focus. "Jay...?"

Jay closes his eyes and shudders. "I want." He growls and opens his eyes again. "You said a lot of things, Tim."

*Tim* pants -- "So did -- no. No, I'm sorry. I just -- it's too easy for me to be evasive, and dishonest --"

"With me?"

"With *everyone*," Tim says, and laughs painfully. "I'm --"

"Tim. Do you want -- this can be just sex," Jay says, and turns Tim's head --

Licks Tim's *ear* --

"This can be whatever you want." And his voice is low and full of *hunger* --

But it's full of other things, too. "I'm -- I'm never going to use you, Jay," Tim says, and he keeps his voice as even -- no, wait, not that -- "I mean --"

"Tell me -- fuck, Tim --"

"It looks --" Tim growls and pushes against Jay's hold on him until Jay lets go and they can face each other again, *see* each other -- "You said you wanted to -- to make a *home* with me --"

"*You* said you were fucking *mine* --"

"I *meant* it."

Jay pants -- "So did *I*, baby -- *fuck* --" And Jay growls --

And Tim *flushes* --

"Fuck, you're so fucking *hot* --"

"Ah. The feeling is mutual."

Jay laughs and pants more, rubs at his lower lip with his tongue --

"I -- why do you do that with your tongue?"

"This?" And Jay rubs at his lower lip more, and more *slowly*, and *grins* --

"Ah... yes," Tim says, and resists the urge to *stare* --

"It's 'cause I want a cock right there."

Tim *grunts* --

"Right *here*, to be *precise*," Jay says, and *taps* his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. "It *tends* to be *effective* with most guys. Hint. Fucking *hint*."

Tim snorts. "I... ah. Well. I'll keep it in mind."

"Do you not like -- but you don't even *know* -- let me *show* you --"

"Anything. We can -- I'll do anything, Jay."

And Jay narrows his eyes and growls. "You shouldn't --" He shakes his head. "You gotta be *careful* --"

"With you?"

"*Yeah*, with --" But Jay winces. "Fuck, no. I'll fucking take *care* of you if you *let* me --"

"That -- we can negotiate that, but I think you should assume that I feel *generally* positive about the idea --"

Jay snorts. "Fuck, you -- okay. What I didn't *get* to last night because I had to keep *touching* you?"

Oh -- Tim shivers and cups Jay's stubbled cheek with one hand and his scarred shoulder with the other --

"Great fucking hands --"

"I'm listening -- *mmph* --"

And this kiss is warm and *slow*, but still hard, still *deep*, and it's tempting to close his eyes for it, but it even better to leave them only half-closed so he can watch Jay, and see the concentration line on his forehead, and the way his long, thick lashes flutter on his cheeks when Tim sucks his tongue. He --

Jay *wants* him, and he *has* wanted him. Wants him and needs --

Wants his *brotherhood*, and enjoys him --

*Likes* him --

And now Tim's eyes are closed and he's moaning, *squeezing* Jay's shoulder and trying for more contact somehow, more *weight* even though Jay is already --

Jay *flips* them, moving Tim into a straddle of his scarred, lean hips --

Kissing *up* into Tim's mouth --

Licking and *licking*, and Tim isn't sure if he *wants* this position -- but then Jay starts stroking and petting him *greedily* and -- yes.

Tim smiles and breaks the kiss --

"Hey --"

-- sitting up enough that Jay's hands can *molest* his chest --

"Or that, I hear you -- fuck, talk with your *body* more, baby."

Tim snorts. "You may have noticed that I'm not Dick."

"You don't fucking *have* to be. Just be Tim. The Tim who tenses up just right when I do *this*," Jay says, and pinches Tim's nipples *hard* --

Tim gasps --

"Yeah, thought you'd like that. You are -- mm. You've just been abusing the *fuck* out of yourself, haven't you?" And Jay goes back to petting him, squeezing --

Tim shivers and *breathes* -- and smiles. "As much as I could... quietly."

"Damn. *In* the manor for a whole lot of this --"

"Yes --"

"And somehow *not* fucking B --"

"Jay --"

Jay strokes down to Tim's hips *fast* and grips them --

Tim *grunts* --

"I didn't bruise you here. *Somehow*."

"I... no?"

Jay grins crookedly. "No. I will next time, though. I promise."

Tim shivers. "Thank you."

"My *pleasure*. And it would absolutely be Bruce's, too."

Tim can't keep himself from stiffening for that --

And Jay narrows his eyes and nods. "Okay, that tells me... heh. He told me a little himself. How fucked-up he was after Joker offed me. How *lost*. How he lost control and *kept* losing control on the streets until a thirteen-year-old fanboy showed up and *terrified* him -- and everyone else in the family. Heh. Well, probably not Babs. Still -- yeah. He *didn't* want you at first. He *did* have nightmares about you -- probably a whole fucking lot of 'em. And no, he didn't have to tell me that. Sometimes he'd *let* me share his bed overnight, after all."

Tim squeezes his eyes shut -- no. No. Open. "I -- Jay..."

"This is actually hurting you. This -- because you're in love with him."

Tim -- doesn't look away. "Occupational hazard."

"Heh, yeah. We all tell that lie sooner or later. You never have to lie to me, baby. *Never*. *I know who he is*. And I know exactly the kind of fuck-up he is, because he -- yeah. He held himself apart from you. He probably -- he wore the cowl around you all the fucking time, yeah?"

Tim swallows and nods.

"In the manor, too?"

"Alfred was... always displeased about that. But yes."

"Heh. When I was alive the first time? Alfred would've fucking dropped me off at Titans Tower and then flown to England for a *month* if B walked around the manor in the Batsuit. But that's -- yeah. I wasn't there, and Alfred lost that battle."

"He was -- he wanted to be gentle to Bruce --"

"No."

Tim frowns.

"Really -- heh. No. It's like I told you, Tim -- he was afraid of you. The more scared he is, the more that Batsuit gets *glued* on."

Tim opens his mouth --

"*But*? He was afraid for a lot of reasons. He was..." Jay shakes his head again. "He tried to suit up a lot for Dick, too, once."

"And... for you?"

"Nah. I wouldn't fucking *let* him. I could *smell* that he wasn't *really* Batman. Not *inside*. And he was just -- well, like I said last night -- he *always* wants to be called out for that shit. You, though. *You* were *gentle* with him -- he told me that -- and he told me how much he needed that. *Thought* he needed that, anyway. He told me that you were *different*, and sure, and professional, and brave, and *unstinting*, and that you let him *rebuild* himself when he thought it was something he'd never be able to *manage*. And you... that's not a surprise to you, yeah?"

"I... he's mentioned... similar things to me. I could deduce the rest."

"Uh, hunh. Except *not*, because *you* still think Alfred was protecting *Bruce* when he was letting Bruce wander around the manor in the Batsuit."

Tim blinks. "Ah... are you suggesting Alfred was protecting *me*?"

Jay squeezes Tim's hips -- hard. "Put it together a little, baby. They all say you're a detective."

"I -- as an aside, the more you squeeze my hips like that, the *less* I'll be able to think --"

Jay snorts -- "Okay, good to know, but...?"

Tim -- licks his lips. "Jay, you... all right, you've laid down a very obvious path. You believe that sometime between Bruce finding me frightening and Bruce letting me out on the street --"

"I'm pretty sure you still scare him, just so you know."

*Tim* snorts. "I -- all right, I knew that, too. But you think he came to desire me. When I was *thirteen*. And that he was... leashing himself."

"And that Alfred fucking well *knew* he was doing it, baby," Jay says, and rubs at the hollows of Tim's hips with his thumbs. "Alfred was *helping* him do it."

"I'm not thirteen anymore, Jay."

Jay smiles with *relish*. "Really fucking not --" And then he laughs. "Fuck, though. *I* would've done you back then if I hadn't been dead. I would've done you if I'd caught you *following* us. I would've done you if you'd introduced yourself to me at one of those fucking *parties*."

"Oh -- I. Jay..."

Jay licks his lips. "Yeah. And Bruce would've joined *right* in as soon as I brought you home, baby. As soon as you showed him your *mind*. No, don't shake your head like that. Think of how fucking *nuts* he is. Think of how fucking *slutty* he is -- with his heart -- when it comes to people who are *brilliant* and *badass* and *warm* and -- well, you're not honest. That's a point against you --"

"Yes. Yes, I --"

"But he told me you do the undercover thing. I've watched you a little, *Timmy* Wayne. Heh. Makes me wanna drag you into a cloakroom and wash your lying little mouth out with *cock*. And B wants the same fucking thing -- only *he* wants to do it as *Brucie*."

("*Tiger*, where have you *been*? You don't know how *lonely* we've been without you...")

And the performance had nearly made Tim's father yank Tim away *bodily* --

The performance had come with a *flash* of honest and *unreadable* sharp heat in Bruce's eyes --

Should it have been unreadable?

Had it --

Had Bruce wanted him to know?

The performance had *also* inspired Jack Drake to *bond* with him in *repeated* conversations over the course of the next few days, and Tim had assumed that Bruce's ulterior motives boiled down to that. Of course he'd known it would trigger Jack Drake into trying to be a better father. Of course he'd *give* Tim that -- or try to.

But...

But Jay is grinning at him *wetly* -- and moderately obnoxiously.

Tim smiles ruefully. "The question of Brucie... ah. Yes."

"Yeah? He's flirted with you that way?"

"I'm -- fairly often --"

"And Matches?"

("Chicken, *chicken* -- mm. You *are* lookin' tasty tonight.")

"Only when I've been Alvin Draper, but -- yes. Alvin became Matches' protégé in the absence of Robbie and Junior Malone --"

"Uh, hunh, I figured. It *would've* been a little suspicious for there to be *another* nephew or son, even for that fucking guy," Jay says, and waggles his eyebrows again. "So what does this all *tell* you, Sherlock?"

Tim smiles sourly. "That Bruce doesn't make the first move, either. Except when he's lying. Except that we'd all be happier if he was lying *more* at those times. Except that he *still* doesn't make the first move -- or. Did he?"

"He wanted me so hard -- so *loud* -- that it was like trying to walk around and live with huge, hot, and *horny* spotlights on me all the time." Jay shrugs. "*Technically* I made the first move -- I *knew* he wouldn't have touched me at *all* if I hadn't -- but it didn't feel that way. It felt like... I don't know."

"Something... that had to happen?"

Jay nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's... that's about right. He could make anything seem --"

"Inevitable."

"Got it in one, baby. So -- you're hearing me?"

"With... a part of me."

Jay looks at Tim's half-hard penis *pointedly* --

"Jay."

And Jay looks up and grins at him. "I know what you mean. I know *you* better than I did last night. You won't *really* believe it until he's shoving his tongue up your ass while slurring out poetry -- he does that, by the way --"

Tim *coughs* --

"-- and that's *fine*, 'cause he's fucking slow as *shit* when he's scared -- obviously -- and that means I have more time to make you fall in love with *me*."

Tim -- that's more of a blush than a flush this time --

"Fucking *love*--"

"Did you... really expect it to take all that long, Jay?"

Jay opens his mouth -- and licks his lips. "You sound a little dangerous, baby --"

"Answer the question."

Jay narrows his eyes -- and lifts his hips, lifting Tim, as well. "I think... that you don't know me well enough, yet. I think you love the person you *think* I am."

"And that you want to make a home with the person you think *I* am?"

"No --"

"Why, precisely, do you think you know me better than I know you, Jay?"

"'cause I've been fucking *watching* you --"

"Stalking me?"

"*Yes* --"

"Since you were ten...?"

Jay grunts --

And Tim raises an eyebrow. Slowly.

"That --" Jay laughs. "Okay, *fine*. But I'm *not* the same guy you fell in love with when you were -- fucking *hopefully* -- pubescent, baby."

"No, you're not --"

"See, *go* with that --"

"You're lonelier."

Jay inhales sharply -- and flares his nostrils. "Tim."

"You're angrier --"

"Fucking -- yeah, and that --"

"You're..." Tim touches his *upper* lip with his tongue. Just for a moment. "I don't think you are more violent. Not really."

Jay stares at him.

"I think -- when it comes down to it, and when you're being the person you actually are, as opposed to the person who comes out of you when you're *especially* frightened and lonely and bitter --"

Jay growls --

"Hnn. Are you going to argue that?"

Jay glares at him. "*No*, I'm not gonna argue that! Just -- you fucking know what a fucking *mess* --"

"You were. Not are."

And Jay's expression...

"You look angry *and* hungry, Jay --"

"Yeah, *well*?"

Tim laughs quietly and shifts on his knees. "It makes me want to... make you feel better."

"Oh -- fuck. Tim --"

"It makes me..." Tim rubs his lower lip with his tongue and wants -- no. "But it would actually be *my* penis in *your* --"

"Use a different *word* --"

"No," Tim says, and shows his teeth.

"*Fuck* you --"

"Hopefully *soon*... but, considering the fact that it feels like I'm raw *and* swollen *and* bruised --"

"You totally are --"

"Mm. I love you," Tim says, and smiles.

"Fuck. I -- *fuck*, Tim --"

"And I know that what would make you feel most settled right now would be me fucking your mouth *brutally* --"

Jay's penis twitches -- "Fuck -- *yeah* --"

"And I *also* know... that the feeling of being settled would not last."

"It never fucking --" Jay winces. "Tim, just -- okay. Okay. I made you talk about shit that made you uncomfortable, and I just -- I know I owe this. I know it's the *least* of what I owe --"

Tim presses two fingers to Jay's broad, soft mouth. "You're not a bad person. You're a person who let your emotions lead you into doing bad things."

Jay snarls and *yanks* Tim's hand back. "Did you think I'd take it *all* back, Tim? 'cause if you did... then maybe we don't belong -- maybe this isn't --"

Tim shows his teeth -- and is not in the least surprised that it stops Jay. His *heart* is pounding and he's starting to *need* to sweat -- but he's not surprised. Even without the drugs, Jay is still very, very naked, and that -- right now, it's something which has to be *used*. "Maybe we don't belong... together...?"

"Fucking -- Tim --"

"I like being your baby, Jay. I like... mm. I like knowing... well. I can guess what you were thinking about me. What you *saw* about me while you were... obsessing," Tim says, twisting his hand free of Jay's and stroking his soft lower lip. His *mouth*. "Darker. Darker than I *should* be, right...?"

Jay doesn't say anything, but --

"I can see the anger in your eyes, and I know... well, it's what comes out of you instead of fear a lot of the time, isn't it?"

Jay looks *angrier* --

And Tim nods. "You're afraid of what I'm going to say. Afraid I won't get it *right*. Afraid that I just *think* I know you... well. I've been thinking about this, Jay. What I would say to you if we ever got to have a conversation. If you ever gave us a *chance* to have a conversation -- hnn. I told myself that I wasn't thinking anything of the kind, of course. That I was *stronger* than that. That I didn't *need* you --"

"You fucking *shouldn't* --"

"*Shut* up," Tim says, and raises an eyebrow again.

And Jay shudders and tenses and narrows his *eyes* --

"My turn now, Jay. *Mine*."

Another shudder -- "Talk."

Tim inclines his head. "I've always needed you, Jay. Needed you to be my *brother* -- because I could see you, too. See your hope, and light, and laughter and *warmth* -- *don't* say a fucking *word*."

Jay's teeth click shut -- and he nods.

Tim nods, too. "I could see the rest of you, too. See the way you *looked* at the abusers who you'd beaten to the point of the *protocol* -- but not enough. The enforcers. The murderers. The *pimps*. I followed *you* most of all, Jay. First because you weren't Dick and I had to see who *dared* take his *place*... and then because I saw you. And I needed you. And I *understood* you -- *no*, Jay!"

Jay *growls* -- but doesn't speak.

"Some of us think you're doing *just* fine --" Tim laughs and shakes his head. "No, I won't weasel. Not even a little. *I* think you're doing just fine out there, Jay. *I* agree with -- nearly -- everything you've done, and with the *ways* you've done it. You were an *idiot* to chest up against your allies -- your *family* -- but you've fucking well figured that out now. And Jay...? *I* will be right behind you on the day you *finally* put a bullet in Joker's brain. It's not about pretending you don't exist, or quietly *letting* you do what you *want* to do. I've known for *years* that Gotham *needs* more than I -- *we* -- can give under Bruce's protocols. I knew that before I was *Robin*." Tim pauses --

And Jay is staring at him, jaw clenched and eyes still narrow. There is a *moment* when Tim is positive that he *didn't* get it right, that there's more Jay needs -- no.

There *is* more, and he can give it. He cups Jay's face and massages it gently, warmly -- precisely as lovingly as he wants to.

He checks himself internally -- and drops every mask he's wearing as thoroughly as he can.

He --

Jay *shudders* and *moans* --

And Tim nods. "As an aside, Jay? I haven't forgotten how wired this place is, and I haven't done *anything* to cut the feeds --"

"I fucking *know* -- Jesus, Tim, you can't --"

"I can -- and will -- do *precisely* what I want to do with my life and my heart, Jay," Tim says, and presses his thumbs to Jay's broad cheekbones. "I'll do what's *necessary* to have what I *want* --"

"Then why the fuck were you a *virgin*?"

Well -- Tim grunts a laugh and shakes his head. "Because *I* think I'm a lot less attractive than *you* do --"

"Fucking *A* --"

"*But*... I believe you can be convincing," Tim says, and shows his teeth again. "You certainly have been for the last several hours."

Jay pants --

*Grips* Tim's hips --

"I -- I need you. I fucking --" Jay growls and flushes *hard*, turning away --

And Tim knows what words would've been spoken there. He knows... well. Tim smiles significantly more obnoxiously. "You *could* just start bruising me whenever you want to communicate emotionally..."

"What -- *hey* --"

"Of course, we'll have to work out a *code*. Attempts to break my bones mean you want to talk about your repressed ex-sidekick rage, deep-tissue bruises mean you want a hug --"

"*Tim* --"

"Hnn. Jay. *Brother*. How did I do...?"

And Jay is looking at him again -- into him. Jay's beautiful blue eyes are *wide* again, and full, and *hurt*, and -- Tim gets it.

"At this point, I'm being too good. You're... hmm. You don't deserve me. Right?"

"I don't," Jay says, and his voice is quiet, and low -- too dull.

Tim shakes his head. "You said it yourself, Jay. The more like you I am, the less I'm worth Robin --"

'Fucking *don't* --"

"Yes, I agree with that, actually. It *is* bullshit," Tim says, and *grips* Jay's hips with his thighs. "Both of us are *terrible* at being *Dick*... but Dick hasn't been the *entirety* of Robin for a very long time." Tim raises his eyebrow again. "That's something you *used* to know."

Jay stares at him for a long moment -- and then closes his eyes. He *doesn't* stop holding Tim's hips, though, and his breathing is even --

Tim waits, and strokes Jay's beautiful face --

Spares a moment to wonder *how* jealous Bruce will be --

How angry --

How *hurt* --and Tim fights back a wince as best as he can. Just --

"Baby...?" And Jay's voice has... a lot more life in it. Worry and need, need for *him* --

Tim shivers and smiles. "You can manipulate the hell out of me with that voice, you know."

"What -- fuck, baby, I'm just --"

"Thinking about me. Worrying about me. Caring -- well." Tim strokes down to Jay's shoulders. "I thought of Bruce, and how he would feel about this. Us."

"That made you worry? Seriously?"

That -- "Yes, *seriously* --"

"Baby, it's *Bruce*. I -- fuck. I won't say I'm not ever fucked-up enough *not* to know, but *most* of the time I know he still thinks of me as -- I know he still thinks of me, okay?"

"This is what I'm *saying*, Jay."

Jay frowns. "You -- oh, for fuck's sake, Tim, he *loves* you. He doesn't want *anyone* he's not in love with. That's just how he *works*. It took him more than three seconds to fall in love with you, and, yeah, that's weird for him, but he still *does* love you --"

"And you're the love of his life."

"I'm his fucking *brother*. The one who -- who left him," Jay says, and frowns, and shakes his head. "Look, baby, think of it this way: you can't fucking *tell* me he's stopped creaming his jock for *intrafamily* relationships. I won't *believe* you."

"I --" Tim thinks of how Bruce has always done everything he could to keep Barbara and Dick together, how much time he'd spent struggling not to interfere, even though he wanted both of them, *loved* both of them. And of course he's always worked to give Tim time with Barbara, and to all but *plaster* Tim to Steph even *before* she was his other Robin, and to *tease* Tim with so much obvious pleasure and *happiness* about his love for Dick -- and ruefulness about his fear of Cassandra. He'd worked to make things easier for Barbara and Cassandra, too, and for *Steph* and Cassandra, and for -- he'd laughed *with* Cassandra when she came to tell him -- show him -- about making love with Dick --

"Yeah, I can *see* you thinking. Keep doing it. Keep -- if anything, he'd be pissed at me for not being more *careful* with you."

Careful -- Tim shivers again. "He never -- gave you to me."

Jay frowns. "He -- what?"

"Everything I've learned about you which wasn't a lesson or mission intel --" Tim cuts himself off before it turns into a *desperate* whine. "It's -- it wasn't from him."

And Jay looks -- hurt again. "Not -- I. I know that. I would've known that, I mean. If I'd thought about it."

Tim swallows. "It's... how Bruce works."

"Yeah, I. He was... he was pretty ridiculously -- and *painfully* -- grateful every time I didn't make him talk about fucking Catwoman, you know? Heh. Or anyone else he was in love with who wasn't *me*."

"That... is something I'm familiar with, yes. It was -- it *is* hard, with you, not to think of it as more --"

"Like he doesn't think you deserve me?"

Tim... lets his expression twist. "I... suppose that's exactly... well."

Jay grins crookedly and shakes his head. "We should maybe just smack each other around a little until we cope."

"Yes, because that sort of thing has worked *wonders* for all of my issues to date --"

"Hey, I didn't say *where* the smacks had to land, baby." And Jay's grin gets... wetter.

"I -- mm. You're beginning to intrigue me."

"Heh." Jay *bounces* Tim on him --

"Yes...?"

"Been jerking off on my back a lot lately, baby. Been -- heh. I *usually* do it sitting up braced against a wall or something. But on my back? Lets me think about you fucking *riding* me."

Tim narrows his eyes -- "Where's the lubricant?"

"Hidden from *you*, because *nothing* is going up your ass for at least a *day* --"

"Jay --"

"*Virgin*."

Tim tilts his head to the side --

"Don't argue with me --"

Strokes down the center of his own chest *slowly* --

"I *know* better than you --"

Lifts his two-*thirds*-hard penis against his abdomen --

"I'll make you. Make you bleed in *other* ways *first* --"

"Jay."

"Mother*fuck*, Tim, let me be a good brother!"

Tim licks his lips. Slowly.

Jay -- whines.

And Tim *smiles* slowly, and thinks about *asking* about the canine behaviors -- no, not yet. For now --

"Tim --"

"Actually, I'd rather we take this time to discuss the people who were good enough to actually *drug* you, since that's the sort of thing which could prove dangerous to the citizenry at large."

Jay stares at him.

Tim offers his most *reptilian* smile --

"You're a fuckin' bitch."

"Some would say --"

"Just admit it."

"Hnn. I'm a bitch --"

"A *fucking* bitch."

"A *fucking* bitch, then," Tim says, and licks the edges of his teeth. "And you love it."

"No. I love *you*." And Jay -- looks at him. *Baldly*.

And -- undoubtedly sees Tim blink and flush and --

"Yeah. You weren't gonna make me say it."

"I -- I -- wouldn't *make* anyone --"

"Uh, hunh. Because then you might be... a burden, maybe?"

Tim flushes *harder* --

And Jay nods, squeezing Tim's hips hard enough to hurt --

To hurt so *wonderfully* --

"It could've been obsession, you know. *Just* obsession. If I'd left it there. If I'd been *able* to leave it there, and not fucking come *get* you -- heh, okay, no. That's bullshit. *Sooner* or later we would've been thrown together on the street, and then I would've had to watch you move, and hear your bitchy little voice, and feel your sweet little body when it got thrown up against mine, and smell your *sweat*... and then I would've had to fucking *do* something about the obsession. Or at least try."

Tim -- stares.

Jay nods. "Only it would've been no good, because I would've been trying to fucking *bullshit* you, and you would've been giving that right back, and we would've been -- I don't even know. I know what kind of truths your body can tell when you're really fucking *feeling* it, when you *want* to be honest, and I used to think that bodies *couldn't* ever lie... but we both know better than that, yeah?"

Tim nods. Jerkily. And tries -- no. He just nods, and stares.

"You..." Jay shakes his head. "Do you *not* love Dick? Why do you lie to him? *How* do you lie to him?"

"He... ah. He was afraid of me. And --"

"He *loves* you *now* --"

"I know. I'm his... little brother. And it was. It was wonderful to have that, when he gave it to me. And then -- it just kept getting better. Warmer. I didn't... want to risk it. Or... mess it up."

Jay frowns like he's *hurt* -- and Tim knows why.

"I know -- intellectually -- that he's better than that. I know that it would hurt *him* to hear this. I -- you've made me... rethink. A great deal --"

"*Have* I?"

"Yes. I'm -- I'll talk to Dick. About..." Tim laughs ruefully. "He always wants to know about my relationships."

*Jay* flushes. "Hey, you don't have to -- uh."

Tim snorts. "I'm beginning to agree with you about the slapping. Save that I believe we *should* be using weaponry."

"On our fucking *junk*? I -- heh. Okay, no, I *haven't* tried that as *therapy*, yet. You *could* be on to something. But... us, baby," Jay says, and smiles at him. "I want this. I'll fight for it."

"So will I."

"Hard."

Tim smiles as darkly as he wants to. "I don't plan on giving any quarter, Jay."

Jay narrows his eyes *hotly* again. "Yeah, I -- mm. *Can* you lie with your body that way, baby? Make it *look* like you're losing it?"

"I... it hasn't come up," Tim says, and frowns.

"No, I know, but --" Jay jerks his chin at him. "Putting the undercover in undercover?"

"I... think I feel somewhat queasy -- ah. And I think that's an answer?"

"Heh. For some people it would be. I'm not so sure about you, baby," Jay says, and strokes him with his thumbs again.

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Thank you? Ouch?"

"No, it's a compliment. I want... well. Your undercover identities -- you do it at least a little like Bruce, yeah? You make 'em *real*."

Well... "They are... the roads not taken. Yes."

"There but for the grace of whatever-the-fuck, yeah. B tried to get me to think of it that way when he was working with me -- and on me -- but I just..." Jay shakes his head again and smiles ruefully. "This is where I *do* get religious, a little. The seed that became me -- my *soul* --  was fucking specific. Fucking -- well. The All-Mother wanted *me*. She's made that... pretty clear. The fact that my *human* mom -- the *real* one --made me, too, by raising me -- me and no one else -- just hammers it in."

"You've never wanted to be anyone else."

"Really fucking not."

"Not even when you've hated yourself?"

Another crooked smile. "Not even then. Which -- maybe *that's* fucked-up? But it's *also* who I am."

Tim nods thoughtfully. And -- "I've wanted... many things. Often."

"Wanna give 'em to you."

"Even when I'm not myself?"

"I'm thinking -- you always will be. Somewhere deep where I'll be able to see it -- and *touch* it -- if I'm good enough. If I'm worth it."

Gooseflesh. Just -- "Jay..."

"Yeah, I..." He licks his lips. "The lab was being trashed when I got there, but the name on the property deed -- Joshua Wildman -- is the father of one of Crane's students back --"

"When he was teaching at Hudson, yes. But I don't remember the name?"

"Dashonda Wilde -- with an 'e' at the end. She changed it her junior year --"

"And became one of Crane's T.A.s, yes, I see. What put her on your radar?"

"Heh. I'm just that good, baby," Jay says, and bounces Tim a little more.

Tim raises an eyebrow.

"Heh, okay. I'm just that good... and I made a friend at Arkham who tells me everything I wanna know about the lawyers -- and 'lawyers' -- who visit the freaks."

Oh -- ooh.

"Yeah. I *was* planning to tell you guys all about it soon anyway, but checking up on Wilde led me to Wildman, which led me to the properties --"

"And you found the lab --"

"Which they were in the *middle* of trashing, yeah. Wilde herself and some especially psycho-looking muscle. I introduced myself --"

"And they introduced you to the drug."

Jay smiles ruefully. "You saw the dart-wound behind my ear. Wilde's got great fucking aim. Still, her muscle's fucking wrecked and *she's* also got at least two cracked ribs and a broken ankle, so -- maybe we have a little time."

"Maybe."

"Stranger shit's happened."

"I'd rather not take that kind of chance, so...?"

Jay blows out a breath. "Yeah, open it up to the family. Mi case es su case. Hey, maybe B'll get dosed and --"

"He'll perform analingus on me while quoting Shakespeare?"

Jay opens his mouth --

"I tend to prefer Whitman on occasions like that," *Bruce* says, over the *comm* --

Tim *coughs* -- no. Professionalism. He can manage that. He taps the comm. "R-1 here. I take it you've been monitoring...?"

Pause --

*Pause* --

Jay is *snickering* --

But Bruce isn't talking. He --

God, this could be -- no. No. He can -- he won't let his fear keep him from doing his *job*.

"Batman --"

"If. If you could call me 'B', at this time..." It's still *Bruce* -- and.

All right. "Then I would remind you of the person you'd *prefer* to be speaking with? Shall I ask him to toggle his --"

Bruce *sighs* -- "Then I could pretend, if only for a little while, that you were speaking only to... the man in me. The only man I can be, at times like this."

Bruce. *Bruce* -- Tim swallows. "I -- ah. I see."

"Do you, Robin?" And it's an honest question, open and -- and *needy* --

"B --"

"I will. I have taken down the information about Wilde. Will you. I would like for you to come back."

Tim blushes --

Jay raises his eyebrows --

"I would like..." And Bruce takes a shuddering breath. "I would like for both of you. If I could only... speak."

Tim licks his lips --

Jay sits up -- and licks Tim's *mouth*.

"I... B would like to... speak with us, Jay."

"Yeah, hunh? *That's* not a shock. Except that maybe the way he said it got you thinking he wanted more than that?"

"I --"

"I do," Bruce says, low and *rough* --

And Tim isn't sure *why* he didn't grunt for that -- how he'd *managed* -- especially since the look on Jay's face says the effort was pointless. And -- and. "With... both of us --"

"*Please*."

"B --"

"I will tell you -- anything you wish me to --"

"Everything," Tim says, and feels himself blushing harder, feels himself cataloguing the positions of every camera *in* this room -- including the ones which *can't* catch his expression -- "Everything, B."

Bruce is *panting* over the comm, and this --

"I... J was... right."

Jay grins and licks the *corners* of Tim's mouth. "I'm always right. Except when I'm not. Heh."

"He has been one of the brightest, wisest men in my life, Robin. I am... let him lead you from the darkness, as he has so often led me. Give him -- I've always known you loved him. He is wise enough, I think, to let you lead him, as well."

Tim -- how red *is* he right now? "Home, B?"

"Please --"

Jay taps his own comm -- "He comes back to my place first, B. I need some bizarre and frightening shit there that isn't mine."

If Bruce is breathing at *all*, it's silent.

And Tim understands. He -- he feels like he understands everything right now. He leans in to kiss the corner of *Jay's* mouth. "B... he did say *first*."

"Yes," *Batman* says --

"Fucking *stop* that --"

"I -- yes," Bruce says, and "I apologize. I -- please. Please, both of you, come home."

Jay squeezes his eyes shut and shudders, tenses --

And it feels right for Tim to wrap his arms around Jay, to hold, and squeeze --

"When. When you *can*," Bruce says, and he sounds so desperate --

Tim can't keep himself from squeezing Jay *harder* --

"We -- we'll be there, yeah, R?" And Jay grins at him so *crookedly* --

Just -- "Yes," Tim says, and it comes out almost *choked*, but -- "Yes," he says again, louder; he can be brave, *too* --

"Thank you," Bruce says. "I will endeavor to be... worthy. B out."

Tim shudders and -- keeps shuddering. Apparently, it's something his body needs to --

"Hey, are you about to have a panic attack or something?"

"Ah... maybe?"

"Let's go with no?"

Tim snorts and shudders *harder* for a moment --

"Aw, hey, here," and Jay *slams* him to the mattress --

"*Gah* --"

-- and presses Tim down with his whole body. "This always works on me when *I'm* freaking out, you know?"

"I -- hm."

"Yeah, see? No more shudders," Jay says, and licks Tim's forehead.

"I... will have to bring this method up with Steph the next time we're discussing my extensive list of psychiatric disorders."

"Aw, yeah, she's got those fucking *tits* and she's so fucking *mean* -- uh. Hey, do you think you can make *her* like me?"

Tim blinks.

"I'm just saying. Threesomes are great with women in them, *too*."

"I..."

"Wait, why the fuck haven't you -- you've been dating her for three fucking *years*!"

"Ah... some of that is... her secret to tell," Tim says, and pushes Jay back far enough that they can meet each other's eyes. "The rest of it is... ah... well... I'm somewhat less bisexual than I could be. Somewhat."

Jay stares at him. Just -- stares. Which --

"Jay, you can't tell me you're actually *surprised* by that --"

"I -- okay, fuck, on the one hand? No, I'm not, because you're --"

"'A giant fucking fag'?"

"Your diction's too fucking good for that, but *yes*. On the other hand, *yeah*, I'm surprised, because she fucking well looks like *that* --"

"She's -- she's the most beautiful woman I know --"

"-- *and* you're in love with her, *and* you've been kicking ass with her for -- *again* -- three fucking years. Now, it'd be one thing if you just weren't *into* sex -- and I've *met* people like that, and so have *you* -- but you're you, and you wouldn't have been able to *take* me doing you like that if you hadn't been reaming *yourself* for a fucking *while*."

"Ah... well. Yes --"

"And? People who do that? *Really like sex*."

"To be fair, I *could've* just liked sex with *myself*."

"You don't even fucking *like* yourself!"

Tim... licks his lips. And copes. "Did I mention the extensive list of psychiatric disorders? I... ah. She's... she's actually *fixed* a lot of them --"

"That's *horrifying*!"

"Too horrifying for you?"

Jay blinks -- and shoves a hand into Tim's hair, pinning Tim's head to the mattress and *glaring* at him. Into him. "I'm *not* letting you get away from me, bro."

*Oh* -- but. "'Bro'?"

"Uh... yeah? No? I can -- but you actually *like* baby, right --"

"Was I not *supposed* to?"

"Fuck if I know, baby, I still call Clark *Chester*."

"As in --"

"Child molester, yeah."

Tim coughs -- and hums. And... settles inside himself somewhat. "I am... going to go with the idea that you're enjoying... having me."

"Fuck, yeah, I am. And you're -- enjoying having me. Whether or not I deserve --"

Tim covers Jay's mouth. "The past is never dead, but sometimes we can make it irrelevant. Reasonably so, anyway."

Jay gives him a *skeptical* look... which is absolutely *full* of everything he absolutely *knows* about Tim's obsessive tendencies.

And Tim smiles ruefully. "I chose to keep my memories of Dick and Haly's and -- everything else... green. And I will never regret that. Other memories..." Tim shakes his head. "Your mother -- ah. Your *mothers*, plural, made you. My parents... did not. Does that... make sense?"

Jay's expression softens... dramatically. "Yeah. I... yeah. Maybe... maybe you can talk to me about it sometime."

"You'd want --"

"Yeah."

Tim licks his lips. "I'd want -- I mean. It's not a quid pro quo --"

"I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything. We can -- we'll do this right, yeah?"

Tim smiles helplessly. "Yes."

Jay grins and leans in --

Tim closes his eyes --

And it's not a surprise that the kiss is gentle, that it's warm and loving and so full, so *deep* --

Tim smiles into the kiss and takes it. He'll make it harder... later.

end.



Feedback lets me know you're out there -- and yes, I care about that. Feedback is how I connect to people, and how I make new friends and meet new lovers -- just ask the ones I already have sometime. Feedback makes all the hard work *more* meaningful, and *more* special, and *more* worthwhile. Feedback? Is the glue that holds my fragile sanity together, to be honest. Talk to me.

DW :: LJ :: E-mail

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