Disclaimers: Not mine.

Spoilers: None, really.

Summary: Jason likes being in trouble.

Ratings Note: Sexual content.

Author's Note: Part of the Intimates series. Starts
immediately after Under the ocean floor, and won't make
sense without that one and everything which comes before
it.

Acknowledgments: To Jack for helping me brainstorm this
story out, even though I didn't manage to get all the porn
in. To Jack, Ruby, Petra, and Betty for audiencing and
encouragement.

*

The door's open, which is less surprising than kind of
terrifying, being as it -- pretty much -- answers the question
of whether or not Tim was listening in on him and Cass.

One way or another.

Moreso when walking into the guy's living room brings him
out of the bedroom --

There's gotta be a better word for how he's moving, a better
sense of it, somehow. That's not a walk. It's a stalk and it's
a slink and there's so much *fear* in it -- Jesus. "Tim."

"Jason."

He's dressed like a -- rich -- civilian. It's a little weird to see
the Bird-jewelry just hanging out like that, but it makes
sense. It would be more suspicious if he tried to hide it, and
the word had always been that it was *only* Canary who
ever periodically took the stuff off.

Birds are on call, full stop.

Jason closes the door behind him, and -- what the hell is he
supposed to say, here? 'I'm hot for you' is kind of a given,
but they both know -- to at least *some* fucking degree --
that it's only part of why Jason's here for sex right the hell
now.

He totally was planning on just hanging out with Cass today,
on the *other* side of that wall, and that's *not* a lie,
and -- shit.

"Are you... are you all right, Jason?"

Jason raises his eyebrows, and gets a twitchy little smile,
and -- it loosens *and* tightens things up, a little. On the
one hand, fuck yeah they can share a joke.

On the other hand, Tim doesn't really smile like Bruce, at all.
*Bruce* smiles like maybe he just never learned how.

Tim smiles like some kind of small predator. Something
with a lot of tiny, vicious teeth and a very fucking real sense
of its own mortality. And -- "Fuck. I think I'm impaired,
man."

Tim raises *his* eyebrow. "Im -- ah. That would be 'boy'
for 'incredibly fucking horny?'"

"'Boy?' Did you seriously just say --"

Twitch.

Right. "How *much* of that conversation did you hear?"

"When Batgirl saw you from the window, she used Morse
code on the wall. To tell me to listen."

"She --" Of course she did. Jason bangs his head against
the door, and does it a couple more times, because Cass
isn't actually *here* to stop him. "Jesus."

"Still 'impaired?'"

And Jason stops. It's a serious question, and -- somehow --
he really wasn't expecting that. Which says... way too
fucking much about him to cope with.

"Because..."

When Jason leans forward again, just enough to get Tim
in his sights, Tim's just that slightest bit closer. More than
two feet, less than a yard. Sneaky fucker. "Because what?"

"Because I find myself in a profound state of hormone-
related intellectual damage, myself. Despite the -- perhaps
inevitable -- emotional disturbance."

Jason laughs and doesn't really shake his head so much as
let it roll against the door.

Tim's tracking the movement with -- everything he *is*, it
feels like, and --

"Is that 'freak' for 'thinking about sucking you off again?'"

Tim cocks his head at him. It feels like a laugh. "In part."

"Really," Jason says, and makes kind of a point -- not a big
one, but still -- of shoving his thumbs into the belt loops of
his jeans.

"Jason --"

"What else was in there? I'm not really fluent in 'freak,' as
you may have guessed."

"Tease."

Jason blinks.

Tim cocks his head the other way, and that's --

Jason would lay money *that* was a laugh and a challenge.
And that makes him blink *more*, because he
remembers --

("You've gotta explain it to me, little wing. I can figure out
what she's trying to say *sometimes*, but...")

He remembers a lot. Fuck.

"Jason...?"

"You're like her. You... Jesus."

The eyebrow is a question, serious and *confused*, and --

Fuck. "Yeah, I *did* pick that up from Cass, but -- Jesus."

Tim nods at him slowly, and he hasn't moved again, but...
now it's really obvious that he hasn't. He's trying not to
*spook* Jason. Which...

Well, at least that's *funny*. "Come -- no. Wait a sec." And
Jason looks at the wall. *That* wall. And then he catches
Tim's eye again and *nods* at the wall.

And watches Tim's mouth fall open, just a little. And --
something else. He did something with his hands, but Jason
isn't sure. He wasn't paying enough attention. And it maybe
doesn't matter, because he goes.

And when he gets there... he presses his *front* to the
wall, laying his cheek against it and...

Jesus fucking Christ. "Was that the rest of what I missed in
'freak?'" His voice sounds a little high and breathless to
*him*, and probably does to Tim, too, because --

He didn't *quite* hump the wall just now, but it was a
*near* fucking miss. "Some of it," Tim says, after a
moment. And then, "Jason."

Yeah. Absolutely.

And he just means to get close enough to touch, but he
can't make himself stop moving until he's crushing Tim a
little. Until all he needs is to bend his knees a little --

"*Fuck*," one of them says, because Tim raising up on his
toes *also* works. And Jason closes his eyes and feels the
flush in Tim's cheek with his own face, his mouth.

"This is a fucking terrible position for kissing --"

"I can wait," Tim says, and *bucks*, and fuck, yeah, he can
wait, too.

Especially once he can catch Tim's wrists and press them to
the wall up over his head --

"I just -- oh, God. I just wanted to get your pants off.
*My* --"

"I can *wait*," Jason says, and grinds his hips a little.

"*Tease* -- *fuck* --"

Jason doesn't stop biting Tim's jaw until the sounds come
out more like 'I can't make words anymore.'

It doesn't take long, especially once Jason shifts enough to
breathe against the back of Tim's neck.

And lick it.

And --

He actually misses the words -- he'd wanted to talk to Tim
a little more than this first -- but... "You want me to fuck
you."

"*Yes* --"

"Easy," but it's just a fucking reflex-word, because he's
thrusting now, because his body wants this -- *needs* it --
and is telling him he's a fucking *dumbass* for not letting
Tim strip them, and it's not like biting Tim's neck *helps* --

"Oh fuck, oh *fuck* --"

Except that it does. It's better. It's. "You need this --"

"Jason, *please* --"

"I need *this* --"

And Tim doesn't moan so much as let some hot animal
*noise* fall out of his mouth, and neither of them are
doing anything for Tim's dick, but Jason's getting that it
doesn't matter, that this is gonna get Tim off no matter
*what* he wants, and it just makes him want to figure
out every mean-bastard thing he can do to the guy to make
him get off.

Biting his neck and dry-humping -- and his shorts are
fucking laughing at the 'dry' -- is just --

"I *want* you," he says, because he has to, because not
saying it would be --

Not saying it would keep him from getting that wailing little
growl from coming out of Tim's throat, like maybe it was
just a really great *trick* all along, that Tim doesn't have
any words at all, that --

Jason hears himself making a whining sound before he
realizes he's pushed himself away -- grinding Tim's wrists
against the wall as a brace.

Tim kind of hisses -- pain -- but he still doesn't *say*
anything, and he can't --

Jason lets go and grabs one of Tim's shoulders instead,
spinning him around and kissing him hard, shoving him
back against the wall again and then grabbing his hips,
pulling him *in*, and --

Tim *yells*, wordless, so fucking *wordless* and bites
Jason's lip and fucks himself up against him, hard and fast
and *ragged* --

"Fucking desperate, fucking --"

Another yell -- almost a fucking *bark*, and Tim shoves
his tongue in Jason's mouth, jerks, and -- stills. Comes.
God.

Jason can't stop thrusting, not even when Tim starts to
struggle, starts to *push* -- no. Jesus.

"Sorry, fuck," he says, staggering *back*, and Tim kind of
*rolls* his head to look at him, glare --

And then he drops to his knees.

"Jesus, you fucking --"

He's got nothing, because his knees aren't steady and Tim's
hands *are*, yanking open his jeans, pulling his dick out
through the slit in his boxers, and --

"*Cocksucker* --"

-- humming around him, and that's a laugh but it's also just
Tim in the tiny, almost-perfect seconds before the
more-perfect-than-perfect moment of Jason's dick sliding
right *into* Tim's throat, choking off everything but the
blowjob he's wanted since he'd pulled Tim off his dick last
*night*, since Cass made him say it, made him *need* her,
made --

"God, God fucking -- oh fuck, *Cass* --"

And he has just enough time to work through 'oh fuck,' 'oh
God,' and 'oh *no*,' before one of Tim's hands is doing a
damned good job of digging bruises into his right hip, and
the *other* is torture-teasing the bundle of nerves at the
back of his left knee --

Likes him -- it means he -- she --

And the only good thing about that is that it makes him
come his fucking head off *before* he can damage them
both by falling.

He lands badly -- his wrists are gonna be un-fucking-happy
tonight, as is his tailbone -- but at least he doesn't land
*on* Tim.

Which is... it is. Shit.

Jason squeezes his eyes shut and tries to get either his
heartbeat or his breathing under control. He can't even
imagine trying for both, especially with Tim's breathless,
whooping gasps echoing through his goddamned brain.
"Fuck. *Fuck*."

"It's... okay... J... Jason --"

"You've gotta be fucking *kidding* me --" And there's a
hand on his ankle. He can ignore -- he can't ignore it. He
opens his eyes.

Tim's grinning at him. Showing teeth and... And, after he's
*sure* Jason's meeting his eyes, he nods at the wall. And
raises an eyebrow.

Which... yeah. Okay. They weren't exactly *alone* in here
from the get-go, but -- "You can't tell me you think that's
fucking *normal*."

Tim takes a deep breath and then another, more slowly.
"Can't I?"

Camera in the fucking shower and all those *names* Tim
hasn't shared -- yet. Fuck. Jason lets himself fall back to
the floor and pinches the bridge of his nose.

After a minute, Tim joins him.

Sort of joins him. He's right there *next* to Jason, but they
aren't really touching until Jason yanks Tim half-over him
like a bony little fraction of a blanket.

"Ah. 'Boy' for 'cuddle.'"

"Oh, fuck you."

"Where?"

Jason laughs despite -- pretty much everything. "I'm still
working that out."

Tim strokes his chest, and it's less tentative than Jason
would've expected. More -- 'I know you need soothing,
even if I'm not sure why --'

"Oh God, fuck, I want to stop reading you right *now*."

Tim stops. "I could..." There's a small, wet sound -- Tim
doing something with his tongue and teeth.

Jason doesn't open his eyes.

"There are options."

Jason squeezes his eyes shut. "Don't --"

"You've said you... wanted me to be myself, but --"

"I *do*. I --" Jason growls to himself and sits up, yanking
Tim close again when he tries to take the opportunity to
back off a little. He's got him by the left wrist and right
shoulder, and Tim's just...

Looking at him. Waiting. *Knowing*.

"Look, you just -- I do this -- the reading people -- with
Cass, and I do this on the street to save my ass and do
the *job*. I don't do this with *sex*."

"Would you mind if I asked why...?" Tim blinks a few times,
and it's...

It's totally and completely 'I'd rather be looking away, but
you don't like that.' "You don't always have to look at me. I
know you get off on me *seeing* you, but --"

"You see me.. quite well. All the time now. You...." Tim
actually *does* look away, but it's not enough to hide the
flush in his cheeks, and the fact that it's a new one.

Maybe a better one. Maybe --

"It seems that I can either be myself and remind you
uncomfortably of certain aspects of your relationship with
your sister, or I can... not be entirely myself and remind
you uncomfortably of certain aspects of my relationship
with Oracle." Tim flexes the wrist Jason's still holding.
"Which variety of discomfort would you prefer, Jason?"

Jason tightens his grip.

"Jason --"

"I don't know yet."

"That's..." The flush is deeper.

Tim really, really likes being restrained. He --

"That's fair," Tim says, and rolls his shoulder a little. The
one Jason's holding. "I have a few thoughts about the
matter. Additional thoughts."

"Look at me again. Please. I --" Jason laughs and works
really fucking *hard* at not tightening his grip again. "Wow,
I'm doing a bad fucking job at --"

There *is* a moment where Tim's looking at him, it just
doesn't last long before they're kissing, before Tim is
licking his mouth and twisting a little in Jason's grip, trying
to get closer, trying --

It's better when Jason lets go, especially because it's just
for long enough to get his hands in Tim's *hair*. Tim's
straddling his lap and biting his lip and moaning, moaning
a *lot* --

"Easy," and this time he means it, even though it's hot. And
with his hands in Tim's hair, he can pull --

"I'm sorry, I'm -- it was my fault, it really was --"

"What? Wait --"

"I could've said -- a lot of things. I." Tim closes his eyes
and pants and Jason has no fucking clue what that *is*,
but --

But he does. He really fucking -- that's *shame* on Tim's
face, in the drawn-in eyebrows -- "What -- what did you
do. That -- Jesus, that thing with my *knee* --"

"When we were having tea the other night -- I made her
laugh, and she... but you know it wasn't only that -- ow."

Jason stops yanking on Tim's hair. He can stop yanking. He
*can*. He -- "You stopped talking when we were humping.
You -- that was *deliberate*?"

And for a long moment, Tim's just -- blank. Nothing in his
eyes, nothing -- he's not even tense. He's just still. Just
*waiting*. Fucking empty --

"Don't *do* that --"

And then he isn't. He's laughing without opening his mouth
and maybe -- definitely -- crying a little, too, somewhere
behind his *face*, and.

"Jesus, Tim..."

"It seemed... you seemed to want that. And I knew your
sister..."

The hair on the back of Jason's neck really wants to stand
up straight and scream. Or. Something. "Did she *ask* you
to --"

"No. Yes. Not..." Tim bites his lip viciously hard, once. "Not
in the way I -- suspect -- you mean."

Jason lets go.

"I'm... I apologize. I... it wasn't that I wasn't doing what I
wanted, it's just. I could've done it differently. If I'd
considered how... attached you are to the idea of your life
with Batgirl being something... separate. From everything.
I should've thought." Tim shifts his weight back to his toes
and kind of rolls to his feet.

There's a stagger there when Tim backs off a little toward
his bedroom, but not much of one.

There's...

He's moving away from the wall, a little. Away from...

He's totally giving *them* space, as opposed to just giving
*him* space. Because...

Because.

Jason stands up, too, and goes to the wall himself. He'd
taught Cass Morse before he'd taught her almost anything
else, because it was a way to get her to connect the
concept of letters -- words -- to her body. He balls his
hand into a fist and.

And he doesn't know what to say.

Except for how he does.

'I love you,' he taps.

'I know.'

'I'll do better.'

'Good.'

Jason laughs, and lets his forehead fall against the wall.
After a beat, there's an answering thump.

And then he pushes off, and finds Tim doing a really bad
job of blending in with his cabinets. He looks like... Jason
squints a little, and Tim responds by standing up a little
straighter. 'I'm here, look at me all you want.'

And then that's *gone*, and he's turning away again,
curling in on himself a little -- shit.

"I'm over not wanting to read you."

"Are you quite sure about that?" The question is directed
to the floor tile.

Jason snorts. "No. Come on, you're a Bird. Tell me you
aren't used to people being fucked in the head." And
fucking well use *words* to do it, because --

Tim looks up, and there's a smile all over him, even though
it takes a minute to make it to his mouth.

And if he wants *Tim* to use words... "There's something
I'm sure about, anyway."

"Yes?"

It's something he'd pretty much never do with Dick or
Steph, and size doesn't have a damned thing to do with it.
Still, he kind of *has* to reach past Tim with both hands
and brace himself on the lip of the sink before leaning in
and making every last bit of the five inches and forty-odd
pounds he has on Tim count.

"Jason."

Because it's *exactly* what Tim likes. "Don't be Cass for
me."

"I --"

"Don't. Be Cass. For me."

The tip of Tim's tongue is pink, sharp, and sliding along the
enviably perfect line of his upper teeth. He has an overbite,
but it's an *even* one, and --

He pretty much has to lick that tongue. At least once.

Tim pants against his mouth. "I feel the need to point out...
that I may, in the future, exhibit more traits you find --
familiar."

"Uh, huh."

"And you shouldn't... assume."

And everything -- everything -- is telling him that that's the
absolute *truth*, but... "*Why* shouldn't I assume?"

It makes Tim almost *rear* back, and the flash in his eyes --
shift of his shoulders, tightness in the mouth -- says he's
*pissed* --

"Wait --"

"You *know* why. You... Jesus, Jason, I..."

He knows why. He does. He really... Jesus. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh.'"

"I'm not a --" Jason shakes his head and rocks his hips
against Tim's abdomen, just to make that flash turn a little
softer.

Tim knows it's an apology.

And Tim... "Just how far can I push this 'I say jump, you
say how high' thing? Exactly."

"I don't think you really want me to answer that question.
At least... not at the moment."

"Jesus. You're allergic to making things like this easy, aren't
you?"

The smile melts right back over him. All over him.

Jason rocks his hips a little harder this time, and --

"Nn -- I get hives. It's -- it's an aesthetic nightmare."

Jason gives up and snorts, forcing himself to do it at a
distance for long enough to see Tim get just a little bit
more pleased, a little more *relaxed*, before he leans in
and nuzzles Tim's ear. "Put your arms around me?"

Tim does, and -- "What about my legs?"

"Not yet," Jason says, and laughs with his mouth open,
with his tongue in Tim's ear and his hips rocking, and --
yeah. "I've got a confession."

"Tell -- tell me --"

"I'm calming myself down. I'm using you to chill myself
*out*."

"Would another blow-job help, do you think?"

Jason laughs harder and *grinds*. "You know it will. But
it'll also distract me from the *reason* I'm trying to chill
myself out."

"You can't possibly be sure about that -- oh *fuck* --"

"You really like the bites. You --"

"Possessive, painful -- *possessive*, oh fuck, Jason, don't
stop --"

He doesn't, because it's *not*, actually, a distraction from
what he's working himself up to say, what he's working
himself up to *think*. Because every bite is possessive,
especially the ones that'll leave marks.

Because Tim fucking *likes* to be *owned*. Because --

Jason flicks his tongue over the little patch of throat-skin
he's got between his teeth, and does his best not to think
too much, right this second, about the way Tim is
undulating against him.

"J-Jason --"

"It's Babs," he says, pulling back and staring at the
bruise-to-be. "Isn't it?"

He can still *feel* Tim stiffen, but at least he's not looking
at it.

"Yeah, I thought --"

"*What's* -- Oracle?"

"The -- heh -- reason why you're 'really not' a virgin. One
of the reasons."

Tim shudders. "Jason --"

Jason bites him again --

"Jason, please, we don't have to --"

"It's okay. I..." He doesn't really know what comes after
that and is also completely honest. He *knows* Tim can't
read him as well as Cass can, but it's not like he's
anywhere near good at lying to anyone he actually cares...

It's not like he's good at lying.

He cups Tim's ass instead, holding him and holding him
still. "It freaks me out, it's going to make Dick go six kinds
of insane, and it freaks me *out*, but it's okay."

Tim's ear is flushed, and Tim's entire body is *hard*,
and --

"Unless... I'm not supposed to have figured that out?"

"I think." Tim's swallow is so loud Jason can *hear* it. "I
think she suspected you would. If we ever..."

Jason snorts and presses them a little closer. "Yeah. And
we totally evered, didn't we?"

"I'm not quite sure if there was enough evering, actually."

"There's such a thing as 'enough?' Because, you know, I'm
kinda fucking *fond* of evering with you."

"Good to know," Tim says, and now his hands are on
Jason's hips -- no. Working up under Jason's shirt.

The fingers on Tim's left hand are sliding up over Jason's
ribs. The ones on the right are curling under the waistband
of his jeans. "Gonna feel me up?"

"I could stop," Tim says, completely not stopping. But --

"You could, couldn't you? Right now."

"I'd prefer not to, as I think you may have guessed --"

Jason nips Tim's ear and squeezes his ass. "Tell me."

"I --" And Tim stops. He doesn't *move* his hands, but...
his hands aren't moving anymore, either.

Jason shudders.

"Jason -- I know you said you're okay with all of this, but --
I know, now, this isn't the sort of... sexual relationship
you're accustomed to." Tim doesn't pull back so much as
lean away, and that means it's time to look him in the eye.

Jason does it, and he doesn't bother to try to get any of --
any of *it* off his face. That pretty much only works with
Bruce, and sometimes Dick.

"Should I be encouraging you to go... somewhere else?"

Jason snorts a little. "Only if you want me to."

The tip of Tim's tongue peeks out from between his lips
again for just a second. Which is just as hot as it was a few
minutes ago, but also... Jason's pretty sure that gesture
means something at least *close* to 'I'm thinking, I'm
letting you see it, this is important, and I'm impaired.'

"What is it? *Do* you want me to go?" He loosens his grip
a little --

And then the hand that *was* on his ribs is wrapped tight
around his wrist. And Tim's knuckles are digging into his
abdomen.

"So that's a no, but --"

"I'm wondering... I." Tim searches his face, quick and
*serious*. "I'm weighing the pros of you staying against
the possibility of you not coming back again."

Jason frowns. "You think you're gonna say something that
makes me wanna bail?"

"I think I may have already said it."

"I don't know what --" Yes, he does. He really does. Which
is...

That's fair.

It's just not *correct*. "I spent a lot of time back in the day
wishing I could get with Babs, but... man. Two things,
okay?"

Tim nods. "I'm listening."

"One, it's not like I wanted to *date* her, as opposed to
spending a few hours between her tits every day --"

"Understandable."

Jason coughs. "Yeah, right, that. Uh..." Okay, if he keeps
thinking about Tim playing with Babs' breasts, he's gonna
come again really fast. Tim had saved him from ruining
his jockeys *once*, but it's probably better not to tempt
fucking *fate*. "Yeah. The other thing... I couldn't even
imagine it. She flirted like just another ridiculously hot
female vigilante, but... I don't know."

Tim raises an eyebrow at him.

Jason shakes his head. "I really *don't* know, man. I just..."
He was never really surprised that it didn't work out with
her and Dick. He just can't say why, and Tim doesn't get to
hear it, anyway. "I could always tell, I think, that she was...
different." He shrugs.

Tim nods slowly.

"For all I really *know*... you're perfect for her." For all
any of them know, and... damn. When he gets out of
here, out of this *building*, he pretty much has to talk to
Dick *first*.

Whatever, it gets Tim smiling at him again, sharp and small
and a little evil. "I'll relay your... best wishes...?"

Jason snorts and tightens his grip on Tim's ass again... and
gets that hand back under his shirt. "Still, though. I mean...
I'm *trusting* that I'm not sticking my -- heh -- nose where
it doesn't belong, here."

The smile gets a little sharper. "Oracle and I aren't...
exclusive, no."

So does that mean she *does* plan on giving Dick another
shot? Should he...

"Jason...?"

He really does kind of need to ask. "Uh... okay, just tell me
if this is something I don't get to ask, but... Babs. Oracle, I
mean --" And he has to stop, because -- Because he
absolutely and totally *does* mean it. In the same way
Dick almost always means 'Batgirl,' even when he *says*
Cass. Jason sighs. "Does she plan on hooking up with Dick?
Like, at all?"

"I... that's. That's personal, I think."

It's also a yes. Jason nods. "Sure."

"He... loves her."

He loves Batgirl. He loves... Jason knocks his forehead
against Tim's lightly. "So, about... this. Us."

Tim makes a little humming sound. It's not just a laugh, but
Jason isn't -- entirely -- sure how many other things it is. "I
have a bed."

"Heh. I've seen it. I've *touched* it, even."

"Mm. Like my clothes. And my... other clothes --"

One of the things Jason likes about his life is the number of
people in it he can just kiss when he wants them to stop
talking. It's not a rule or anything, and the image in his
head of trying this with Alfred is more than a little horrifying
and also completely gone, thank everything good and sane
in the world, but...

But Tim already figured out that Jason likes it wet and
messy, the kind of kiss where you have to lick each other
just to keep things from getting completely out of hand,
spit-wise, until you're just making it worse and have to
start dragging your face over drier parts of the other
person's body.

And then wetter parts, and --

That's a really good idea, so Jason drops to his knees.

"Jason, please, wait --"

"Wait? I really kind of don't want to wait," he says, and tugs
at the fly of Tim's chinos. There's actually a small wet-spot
from the humping, but it's too cool now to be interesting,
as opposed to all the heat *behind* it. "Are you sure you
want me to wait?"

And that gets him the tongue again, and also Tim's hands
tightening *hard* on the edge of the counter, and Jason
leans close enough to breathe Tim *in*, but then he pulls
back.

And stands up again.

"Jason --"

"What do you -- *how* do you want me to get you off this
time?"

Tim exhales, long and shaky, staring at the floor -- or
maybe just where Jason *had* been kneeling.

And Jason's about to ask again, or ask Tim to *show* him,
but --

"I want you to fuck me. Your fingers would be wonderful.
Your dick... would be better."

And the thing is, Jason can *feel* that his jaw's kind of
hanging open now, which is stupid on top of stupid,
because Tim's been guiding Jason's hands to his ass from
the start *and* telling Jason to fuck him, but -- damn.
Jason closes his mouth again.

"But I'm not, actually, that... choosy."

"It's what you want --"

"Not if you don't."

"Heh. Not really the *problem*. I just..." He's never done
this with one of *them*, and it's been a really long time
since there was anyone *but* them, and... Jason laughs
again. "I think this would've been easier last night."

"You seemed a little... tired. Last night."

"Which means you want it hard?"

Tim's eyes are wide right up until they aren't, until they're
these hot little narrow *slits*, and he's not even aware
he'd moved until he's got his hand between Tim's legs,
where it's hot and a little damp, still. "Jason."

"I wanted to lick you clean."

"Fuck. I --"

"But that would get you off too fast, right?"

"If you squeeze any harder..."

He's tempted. He's... he's *beyond* tempted, and it's a
compromise just to kiss Tim again, and use his free hand
to tug on Tim's hair until he stops giving it back and starts
just taking it.

This is for him, using Tim's mouth and his own tongue just
to get used to the idea, to get his body fucking *ready* for
it, to --

To *use* Tim's mouth, *again*, but it's making Tim groan,
and Tim's dick is twitching in his pants --

"Jason -- that will --"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. Just... one sec." He forces himself to
move his hand and kisses Tim one more time, because he
actually seems to like this even more than *Dick* does,
or --

It has to count if he just likes it because Jason does, even
if it's probably wrong that it makes it better.

And he *was* going to break the kiss again, but he doesn't
have to. This apartment is the same as Cass', and just as
neat, and when Jason tugs Tim away from the sink they
can just kiss their way back into the bedroom.

Tim does a damned good job of steering them, all things
considered, but it's not like he's all that shocked about the
guy having *focus*.

He winds up half-kneeling between Tim's legs with a couple
of fistfuls of comforter, with his tongue kind of buzzing
from the sounds Tim is making around it, and this -- he
could do this all day.

He kind of *wants* to, just like he kind of wants to see
what it would feel like to just *be* in this bed with Tim, if
it would feel as good as it does with Cass, if it would be
different, if he could *make* it the same, if he *wants* it
to --

He pulls back and shakes himself like a dog, and Tim's
panting and *staring*, and --

"Would it be better if I let you... dress up?" And trying to
make his brain shut up just means his mouth has to take
over. "Jesus, no, that --"

"No," Tim says, calm and clear.

Which -- that's good. That's really good, and more than
enough to let him start stripping, but he doesn't even have
his pants open before he's wondering why. Still, *not*
asking is letting him keep moving, letting him stand long
enough to get his trainers off and his pants and jockeys
fucking *away*, and watching Tim do the same thing on
his back is *almost* as good as watching Dick do it, and
*almost* enough to get the thought out of his head.

Tim's dick and abdomen are shiny and still slick and a little
disgusting, but not because of the way he *smells*.

He smells like *sex*, and he just fucking goes with it
when Jason pushes his right knee up to his chest, and the
*left* leg is up on his shoulder just like that, and if he
doesn't just fucking ask then he's going to ask about the
*guys* Tim's been with, and he needs to limit the amount
of times per day he breaks his own head.

So he leans in to kiss Tim again, instead, and rubs up
against his ass a little with his dick, and swallows those
moans, and --

"Why isn't it better?"

"Because that's not how you want me... this time."

This time. This -- "Jesus, where's your slick, man -- wait,
no." He reaches up over them both, because it's in the
bedside table.

It was such an obvious place for it that it hadn't even
registered during his search, even though, in retrospect, it
really should have.

The bottle is *mostly* full, but... "Have you ever done it
here?"

Tim shakes his head, panting again and staring at Jason's
hand. At his *fingers*, because at some point Tim wants
him to do it *that* way... does Babs?

And that image is going to kill him -- it makes his fucking
*chest* seize up, because he can see it, even though he
has no idea what the inside of Babs' freaking tower looks
like, he can *see* it, just like he can see Tim's eyes rolling
back in his head as soon as he slips in a finger.

He can see Tim *loving* it, and it makes perfect sense to
him that Babs would *do* Tim, because anyone would
want to, just to make him look like *this* -- feet planted
and hips up off the *bed*, shoving back against Jason's
finger --

"Jason, more, I'm not -- you can -- oh *fuck* --"

He's not tight. He's not really tight at *all*, to the point
where it's going to feel like a tease really fucking *quickly*,
even with two fingers in and thrusting -- "God, I want to
make you come this way --"

The *sound* cuts him off, because it sounds like his name
and it sounds like another one of those hot little *growls*,
because Cass can totally hear what he's doing, can *know*
it just as easily as Jason can see the way Tim's dick is
spitting pre-come all over his own stomach --

"J -- Jason --"

Faster and it's almost not a tease. Harder and it
*completely* isn't, but harder is making Jason's own dick
*ache*, so it kind of is. He pulls out --

And he didn't actually *want* Tim to pull his knees
completely back to his chest before flipping over onto his
knees, but it happened too fast for Jason to really *stop*
it, and also it's incredibly *hot*.

"Like this?"

"*Please* --"

And he thinks about mentioning that he's going to want this
face to face at *some* point -- he *knows* Tim is more
than flexible enough for that -- but by then he's got his dick
in one hand and Tim's left cheek in the other --

And Tim reaches back and grabs his *right* cheek, and
then it's just a matter of sliding right the fuck *in*, one long
stroke, one long push, one --

So fucking *sweet*, and Tim makes a choked-off noise and
*shakes*, and this is where he's supposed to ask if Tim's
ready, but he thinks Tim will fucking *knife* him if he
does -- it's right there at the small of his fucking back,
*and* the sweat will make it easy to pull, and there's
nothing --

There's nothing but the way he can hear himself cursing
the feel of pulling out, and the way his hips won't *let* him
wait before he's stabbing back in again, *fucking* back in
again, and he doesn't know if he wants to feel Tim up or
hold him down or hold those slim and barely-scarred
hips --

Except that Tim has his rhythm down *perfectly* for --

Not long enough before he's using his hips to urge Jason
faster, harder, and the noises he's making are shameless
and loud and fucking needy, he needs this so much, *he*
needs it, and it *is* better than Tim's crying out for this,
sharp and a little high for every thrust, like maybe this *is*
a little harder (better) than he's used to, a little *more*,
but he loves it.

The tape is scratchy and rough over Tim's mean little knife,
Tim's back is smooth where it isn't slick and *hot* with
sweat, and --

"I want -- fuck I want to see your *face* --"

And the shift in angle is jarring and confusing and fucking
*hot*, but then he realizes Tim's down on his elbows, one
cheek pressed to the pillow and --

Fuck, right *there*. His face is flushed and the eye Jason
can see is open and fucking *blank* with sex. His mouth is
open and his fists are curling in the sheets, and Jason
doesn't *want* to hold Tim's hips, but now he *has* to,
just to keep him right fucking *there* --

"J -- *Jay* --"

"Yeah --" He loves it. He --

"Oh -- *oh* --"

"God, you're -- killing me, so fucking --"

"Hard -- harder --"

*Killing* him, because he can do this just as hard as he
wants to -- *harder*. There's a part of him which is
actually kind of terrified, but every fucking *shove* of his
hips makes that part a little smaller, every time he catches
a glimpse of Tim's white knuckles and flushed red cheek it's
a little less important.

And completely meaningless against the way Tim's starting
to fight him for *more*, eyes squeezed shut and hips
working against his palms, sliding with fresh sweat, and
the tape is even looser now, and it's possible that knife is
going to --

To --

"Oh fuck, Tim, fuck I'm --"

No words, just *noise*, and louder noise when Jason finally
lets go with one hand and grabs the back of Tim's neck
instead.

"Like to -- to be fucking *owned* --"

And that's a *scream*, but when Tim actually comes it's
silent and *violent*, like trying to hold on to something
wild, but that just means Jason has to do it *harder*,
fuck him harder, and he's got no rhythm left, no fucking
thoughts in his head, and the knife does come free, but it
just bounces off the bed --

And Tim's knees give out and Jason hears himself growl
something foul and incoherent when he *slips* out, but
it's just an excuse to *slam* back in, and --

*In* --

And he doesn't know if the yelling in his head makes it out
of his throat or not, because everything he *is* is spilling
out of his dick, and he can't feel his hands to know if he's
braced enough not to *fall*, and Tim --

Tim's eyes are open again, or at least one of them is, and
he's watching, he's *got* Jason, and Jason squeezes his
own eyes shut and shakes.

And --

"Go -- go ahead and fall, Jason -- I -- "

"God, I -- God --"

"I can take it."

His left elbow -- the one with a chip missing thanks to a
bullet -- gives out on him completely, but he manages to
just ease down with the right, at least.

Tim exhales slow and long beneath him, and inhales...
shorter.

"Can you breathe?"

"Enough," Tim says, and Jason would have to move more
than he can right now to be able to see his face, but
there's a smile in his voice.

Jason laughs a little -- and gasps when Tim spasms around
him. "Fuck, Tim --"

"Very -- very much so."

"Lost your knife." Does he only wear it when he's in
civvies?

"You can put it back for me, if you'd like."

"Uh, hunh," Jason says, and doesn't so much kiss the back
of Tim's neck as drag his mouth over it. The position kind
of sucks -- his spine is gonna complain soon -- but his dick
wants him to stay right where he is.

"Jason..."

And he waits, but Tim doesn't really say anything else. He
*is* panting, but only a little. He's got enough air. So...
"Yeah?"

"Thank you," Tim says, and this time there's a laugh *and*
a smile in his voice, but... he's also just as serious as he
was last night.

Jason scrapes his teeth over the back of Tim's neck. He
can't really catch enough skin for a bite. "You're -- really
fucking incredibly welcome."

"Hmm... you're not staying long."

Jason laughs. "Homework. And..." He swallows. "And
Cass."

"Mm. Do you always... tell?"

"I -- yeah. She won't tell anyone else. She doesn't even tell
the *person* about it, you know? Not after Dick freaked
out, anyway."

"I don't... I really don't mind."

Jason huffs a laugh against all that sweaty-hot skin.
"Because you know she's just going to beat you until you
cope...?"

"I'm a Bird, Jason. Sexual privacy is... just a bit alien. To
me."

"Uh."

Tim shifts under him, just enough to free one arm to reach
back and down to stroke the outside of one of Jason's
thighs. And squeeze. "We don't keep secrets from each
other. I mean... of course you know Oracle --"

"I know Oracle knows, but -- seriously, Canary? Huntress?"

It's not much of a shrug -- Tim is supporting too much of
his weight -- but it's definitely a shrug. "I never really
considered it that way before, but... I have sisters, too.
Hnn. Oracle is going to mock me quite a lot about that."

And for a minute -- a really long one -- Jason's jealous. He
only has one sister, and one brother, and Tim has... and
now he has Cass, *too*.

But that's not... it's not like that. It isn't.

It's -- it's not.

"Jason?"

"No, I -- it's nothing."

"It isn't."

"It *will* be," Jason says, and "breathe deep, man."

Tim does, and the breath hardly even stutters when Jason
pulls out. Really not a virgin. Right. Still, Tim doesn't
actually move out of his wet-spot until Jason tugs on his
shoulder. "More cuddling?"

Jason snorts and shoves his arm between Tim's and Tim's
side. "Boy cuddles. Tell me where I can leave the
bruises --"

"Anywhere."

"*Jesus* --"

Tim smiles very, very slowly. "Kidding. Maybe."

Jason head-butts him -- not *too* gently -- and laughs a
little. "Fucking pervert."

"Please. Don't expose my shame."

Laughing is easy. Laughing into Tim's mouth is... easier
than that. But when Jason *breaks* the kiss --

"What was that? A moment ago."

"I -- it's really not --"

Tim's hand is on his chest, telling him to stop, pressing in
a 'please don't lie,' and --

"God, I actually. I think I wouldn't mind if you had sex with
my sister."

Tim's fingers spasm on his chest. His face is even more
obvious. "Um... I'm honored?"

"No, I -- just trust me when I say that I'd pretty much
gotten used to the idea of *never* being able to say that.
She's my *baby* sister --"

"She's more than a year older than I am --"

Jason head-butts him again. "Shut up, I'm the normal one
in this bed."

Tongue and teeth. That's the smile which means he's
laughing really hard, somewhere inside. Jason *knows* it,
and if he isn't careful, he's going to be in a lot of trouble
with Tim.

He hasn't been careful. He --

"Will you tell me, Jason?"

"I was --" Really not careful at all. "I was jealous of your
family. I am."

"You have your own. Quite a good one --"

"I only have one *sister*."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "I don't have any brothers."

"Don't you?"

And -- it just came right out of his mouth, and by the time
he's trying to figure out how to backtrack, Tim's eyes are
wide and his mouth is open, and it's too late.

It's too late, and --

"Jason."

And he doesn't really want to backtrack, because
backtracking would mean that he wasn't in any trouble at
all. Jason... "I like being in trouble, man," he says, and he
knows how incoherent that *has* to be, but all Tim does
is lean in.

The kiss isn't like any of the others. It's dry, and it's soft,
even when Tim catches Jason's lower lip between his own
and presses. It's --

Tim repeats it with Jason's upper lip, and then just keeps
kissing him. He's -- Tim's blushing now, and his eyes are
closed, and when Jason slides his hand up between Tim's
shoulder blades, he starts to shake.

He just doesn't stop kissing, and --

And it's not just a kiss. It's a message, and maybe another
damned thank you, and --

And Jason knows it's not just the fucking Tim's been
waiting for since long before Jason even knew he existed.

Which is -- maybe -- just another reason not to worry
about being in trouble.

end.