Disclaimers: Still not mine. Still reasonably okay with
that.

Spoilers: Vague ones for Teen Titans #6. Other than that,
not so much.

Summary: Dick visits. Tim wigs. Kon stresses.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: I pretty much knew I had to write this
while I was still in the middle of "Cherry Lips," though
it didn't work out entirely the way I thought it would.
Second in what I'm calling the Control series, and
there may or may not be a third.

Acknowledgments: To Jack, Livia, and Bas for
encouragement, audiencing, and many helpful
suggestions. Jack also gave me a title.

Feedback: Vastly appreciated. teland793@sbcglobal.net

*

Kon kicks out as carefully and gently as he can, pleased
that he'd gauged the distance well enough to hit the
shaft of the barbell with just his toe. And, okay, that
small, creaking noise isn't the best sound he's ever
heard, but he's not dealing with his increased strength
just now.

Per se.

He concentrates and the barbell lifts with his TK, just
the way it's supposed to, only wavering when it's at
the limit of his range for the kick itself.

"Nice," Tim says, and Kon grins.

It's not like he couldn't toss the thing through the
wall and most of the way across the Bay, but this is
about control. And when Tim -- *Robin* -- compliments
you on your control...

"I could suggest some other things you could try..."

"You've got a giant file full of potential exercise programs
for all of us, don't you?" Kon increases the stretch as
much as he can without losing the concentration he's
using for the TK. He gets his foot up another inch. "I
mean, besides the one in your *head*."

"Maybe."

There's a quiet breath and the only-slightly-louder sound
of a body hitting the mats behind him. Tim's down from
the rings. "Uh, huh. I'm listening." And not thinking
*too* much about how he wishes he could watch Tim
and do this at the same time without causing major
property damage.

"Aura work. We know you can extend it through solid
objects, but how far? And what about gases?"

It's getting harder to keep this up, more because of
flexibility than anything else. Which is annoying.
"Gases?"

"Yeah, I... hmm. Put the barbell down a second, I'll
see if I can show you what I mean."

Kon holds the position just a few seconds longer, just
long enough for his down leg to start shaking a
little -- he's so going to have to work on this -- and
lowers the barbell as gently as he can.

When he turns around, Tim is not-quite-smirking at
him just enough for Kon to *know* the guy knows
exactly how much of a relief it was to put it down.
Right. He joins him on the mats.

"I'm here."

"Yeah. You're about four feet away from me right
now... take a half-step back."

"Done."

"Okay. Now if you were going to lift me from there,
you'd extend your TK through the mats, right?"

Kon nods. "Yeah, I'd sort of toss you just enough to
get my hands or something on you." A thought he's
had... more than once.

"Assuming I let you." Another tiny smirk.

Kon smirks back, tempted to *show* Tim something.
He's working out without the cape today, but his
hands are sort-of folded in front of him in a position
Kon can mostly recognize. If the cape *was* on,
you wouldn't be able to tell anything about Tim's
body beyond the fact that his calves are pretty
ripped for a little guy.

The look on Tim's face turns curious for a second,
or... it's more about how he -- deliberately -- tilts
his head than an actual expression. Tim's version
of communicating.

Kon shakes his head and grins to himself. "Nothing,
I'm listening."

Slow nod. "Okay, what if you did it without the mats?
Without reaching out at all. Or... okay, here's what
I'm thinking: that aura surrounds you, like an
invisible body-suit or something."

"Which would get me some interesting looks..."

Tim gives him the I-might-be-carrying-Kryptonite
look. "Focus."

Kon bites his cheek to keep from grinning. He does,
actually, want to hear this.

"You weren't barefoot just now. You touched that
barbell with the toe of your *boot*, and even when
you wore a suit that covered more, you still didn't
actually need to touch anything you were moving
with your *skin*. So I'm thinking... bodysuits
stretch. So does your aura, at least a little bit."

"You're wondering how far it goes."

"Exactly. Because if you can work at a distance, or
when you were restrained..."

"You know, me and mental powers... the jokes are
pretty endless, man."

Tim gives him the blank-eyed stare that's only a
glare because of the tightness around his mouth. "Only
if we let them."

And that... was a little serious. Kon blinks. "Okay,
don't... move."

Sometimes he thinks Tim could disappear like that,
just still himself enough to stop existing on any plane
normal (or even abnormal) people did. Control.

It's been a while since he's tried to visualize his own
aura, but the image comes back easily, especially
since it's not so much an image as the absence of
one. A faint sheen of Nothing all around him, just a
little heavier than air.

The first attempt to consciously stretch it makes him
grit his teeth -- he can feel a large portion of his
back a lot more than he could before. He'd *moved*
the aura, leaving himself vulnerable. And it's a trick
he'd been working on for... other reasons, reasons
where the words 'increased sensitivity' were very,
very good words, indeed, but it's annoying.

Because the difficulty isn't the sudden rush of
*feeling* (sunlight, a draft from an open window)
so much as in giving it up again.

He shakes his head.

"Maybe if you --"

"Wait."

Tim is silent again, and Kon closes his eyes and
readjusts the aura back into its original position. He'd
*been* thinking of it as clothing even before,
something that could be taken off or pushed aside.

But... bodysuit. *Stretching*. The problem is... what
would be pulling it out of shape?

Obviously, his own mind, but...

"Damn."

"Yeah?"

"It's like... it's like I'm trying to picture myself
standing where you are and pulling."

"Why not picture me pulling it? I mean... uh. Don't
say it."

Kon chokes on a laugh. "You owe me."

"Noted."

It's a pretty easy image, actually. Because if anyone
*could* grab a fistful of nothing and yank -- Kon
grunts and sways on his feet. That feels --

"Kon, are you -- whoa."

-- really *wrong*. He looks up to see Tim standing
awkwardly, sort of on an angle. And realizes that
he's *holding* him. From over here.

"Success?"

"Uh... maybe? This feels..." Like my skin is trying
to leave my body. Like if you fell over you'd take
important bits of me with you. "... not so great?"

"Hmm. Maybe we should try with lighter objects."

"Yeah, okay, just let me --"

"*There* you are."

And Kon can *feel* Tim trying to turn around. It doesn't
hurt so much as... "Don't... um. Don't do that, please.
It's just --"

"What *are* you two doing?" Nightwing, grinning and
moving into the room.

"Practicing."

And Kon isn't sure *what* Tim's trying to do, only that
it involves moving, lots of parts of him moving at once,
which probably makes sense in terms of muscle
groups and stuff like that, but just makes him groan.
And fall to his knees.

"Kon!"

He winces in anticipation of Tim reaching out for him,
but thankfully he just stills again.

"Maybe you should --"

Kon catches his breath and lets *go*, feeling his aura
snap back into place with a smack which feels audible,
even though it isn't.

"Yeah, that."

Kon sits back on his heels. "Lighter objects, yeah."

And Nightwing is smirking at them both just as if he'd
walked in on two guys in weird positions making
weirder noises. This probably isn't going to help with
whatever big brother/little brother freaky vigilante
thing Tim has going on with Nightwing back east.
"Uh..."

"What are you doing here?"

Tim doesn't sound especially friendly, but Nightwing
just smirks a little more and gives Kon a weird little
look before turning back to Tim. "I needed to pick
up some new equipment from Vic, but then I
remembered something..."

"What."

Kon hadn't thought it was possible for Bat-types to
smirk like that.

"You left something in... at my place." And Nightwing
pulls something out of his pocket and tosses it at
Tim.

Tim catches it, of course, but not before it unfolds...
into stockings. Fishnet stockings.

"See ya around, kid."

And Nightwing walks out of the gym.

By the time Kon looks back, the stockings may as
well not exist, which means they're tucked somewhere
in Tim's belt. "Uh."

"It was for a case."

"Yeah, okay, the disguise thing, but... um. Don't you...
I mean... were you supposed to be a girl?"

"Something like that." Tim isn't looking at him.

"Okay...?" Kon stands up. "So he's basically just fucking
with you."

"... basically."

"You know, the Mystery Boy routine got old about a
day and a half after I *met* you, man." Kon tries a
smile to show that he's mostly kidding. "I mean, it's
not like you guys are fucking or anything."

Tim doesn't say anything.

"Um." Kon's stomach lurches. "Just to be clear --"

"He isn't my... boyfriend."

Which is... more of a relief than he has *any* room to
deal with, but... "More clear. Would be good."

Tim crosses his arms over his chest.

"I mean, if it's not... prying? Shit."

Tim gives this choked little laugh that's pretty much
the opposite of all things cheery and full of humor.
"Fuckbuddy. Except that I'm pretty sure I'm going to
kill him."

"For... um. Outing you? I mean, you know I don't
care, right? I kinda wish you'd *told* me --"

"There's nothing to *tell*. He -- Nightwing's just...
way too *fucking* invested in his little jokes."

"You just cursed. Twice. You're... bisexual? And you
curse."

"Do I need to give you a moment to sit down?"

Kon winces and backs off a step. "Hey, I didn't
mean... I just meant that we're... friends. You can
talk to me about things if you. Want to. Um."

There's a muscle working in Tim's jaw.

"Shit, man, help me *out* here."

And Tim finally, finally looks at him. Or... probably
looks at him. It's hard to tell with the mask,
especially with everything wiped off his face but a
vague tension.

"Tim?"

"I don't know what to say."

Kon scrubs a hand through his hair. "You know...
you could start with --"

"Can we not do this now? I mean... not right now."

Kon bites the inside of his lip. "Yeah... sure. Um...
see you?"

Tim nods at him once and walks out.

Which is... what?

They've known each other for a couple of years now, but
they hadn't really done much toward being *friends*
until recently. It was kind of hard to be friends with a
guy who you only knew by his superhero-name, and
calling him 'Rob' hadn't really improved things.

And they *are* friends, but... he isn't really sure what
that means to Tim, and his suspicions are more toward
'not all *that* much' than they are toward anything
normal. As opposed to what it means to *him*.

Which is maybe-probably-definitely closer to 'way too
much' than it is to anything... normal.

And thinking about *that* is just asking for trouble.
Even with Tim not actually *in* the room, because
Tim is screwing Nightwing and not him.

It's not like he had a plan or anything involving long,
meaningful talks and kissing the life out of Tim on
the roof of the Tower or the roof of the Kents' barn
or just the sky and... dammit.

Because *part* of that plan he didn't have was gently
and carefully figuring out whether Tim even *did*
that, or wanted to do that, and so the plan hadn't
moved very far at all, because, well. Tim opening
up? Not so much.

Knowing the guy *does* swing that way is a lot less
comforting than it could be, since Tim's doing all the
swinging with Nightwing.

Who is... okay, he can see why Tim would. Nightwing
is hot and everything, in almost-but-not-quite the
same ways Tim is. Just taller. *Not* as annoying (and
scary) as Batman, and capable of smiling (smirking
at *him* because he must have *known*), and a
stand-up guy in terms of getting the League off their
case.

He probably shouldn't want to drop kick him through a
wall.

Kon sighs to himself and sits back down on the mat,
dragging a handful of change out of his pocket and
setting it in front of him. He can at least practice with
the aura thing.

And not think about what Tim must've looked like in
those fishnets.

Because, really, had he shaved? *When* had this
happened? Was the hair back now? What had --

There's a weird *pinging* noise and Kon looks up to
find... two dimes and a quarter buried in the door.
Oops.

Possibly Tim being 'something like' a girl -- and what
the hell did that *mean*? -- and cursing and having
sex with Nightwing isn't the only reason why he has
a headache.

Kon winces and tries to consciously reach out to get
them back. He can see the dime start to wobble, but
it could just be his own brain. Wobbling. In his head.

Okay, *queasy* now, and maybe practicing alone isn't
the best idea he's ever had.

It's a painful and really kind of sick thought, but the
fact is... he *could* just go find Tim and make him
help some more. Find *Robin*. Because he may not
know Tim (who curses and does *things* with other
guys and occasionally wears fishnets), but he knows
Robin well enough to know that nothing short of being
actively unconscious would stop him from working to
make Kon -- make *all* of them -- as powerful and
efficient as they could be.

Maybe he should just tell him that he needs the hot
gay sex in order to function.

Which is an amusing thought *right* up until he gets
the image of Tim putting on his game-face and doing
it -- *just* to help him out. Because it's ridiculous, but
it also kind of isn't.

It's one thing to be jealous of Nightwing because he's
gotten in Tim's pants, but something else entirely --
and entirely *pathetic* -- to be jealous because Tim
maybe likes him more than he likes Kon.

Fuck.

Kon gets up and walks to the door, deliberately holding
on to the coins before tugging them back out. There's
nothing he can do here right now without breaking
things or giving himself an aneurysm.

He heads for the roof.

And freezes, because Nightwing is there with
Changeling, laughing and wrestling while the Batplane
idles.

He watches long enough to see a frighteningly large
green spider smacking Nightwing in the face with
several of its legs and turns around again.

"Oh, hey, Superboy! Have you -- stop that -- seen
Robin around?"

He winces, glad he at least had time to look away. "No.
I have to --"

Nightwing's hand is on his shoulder before he's halfway
through the door. And yes, the *entire* Batfamily is
that good. Dammit.

"Uh, I'm kind of busy --"

"So am I. I won't keep you." Nightwing tugs a little on
Kon's shoulder until they're looking at each other.

He's too close to punch effectively. The *first* time,
anyway. "What?"

Nightwing cocks his head at him and frowns. "You
aren't... look, I tend to think Robin needs to have his
head fucked with as much as possible, but... those
stockings *were* for a case."

"You think I'm pissed at him?"

"Aren't you?"

Kon gives up on looking directly at Nightwing, and
tells himself that it's just the usual mask issue.

"You know, *he* doesn't have anything to say about
*you* that isn't good."

And Nightwing is... trying to put him on a guilt trip
for doing whatever he thinks Kon had done to Tim.
Kon laughs a little helplessly, watching something
green and presumably winged moving up into the sky
out of the corner of his vision.

"You *are* his friend --"

"And you're screwing him."

Nightwing takes a step back. "He actually *told* you
that?"

"Oh, don't even pretend you aren't --"

"No, no, I'm just... wow. I didn't think T-- Robin talked
to anyone without serious torture. Hunh."

"What?"

Nightwing... smirks.

"*What*?"

"Well, I don't know, tough guy. On the one hand,
you're so jealous that your brand new heat vision is
probably three seconds from making me extra crispy.
On the other hand, there's Robin. Who, for reasons of
his own, has decided to open up to you. That's just...
interesting, don't you think?"

"Look, Robin might put up with you... fucking with him,
but I really don't need it. I appreciate what you did
with the League, and I'd appreciate it even more if
you left me the *hell* alone."

"Done. But --"

"Fuck off."

"You *might* consider talking to him."

Kon steps inside and slams the door behind him,
wishing he *could* control his heat vision well enough
to weld the thing shut, and then squeezes his eyes shut
*hard* because he can *feel* it.

It isn't about heat so much as just... potential. Power.

"*Fuck*."

"Are you okay?"

"Weren't you *leaving*?"

The door, of *course* opens, and Nightwing's hands
are on him again. "The heat vision, right? You really
don't have control over it."

"I didn't burn anything on *purpose* --"

"I didn't say you did. Though it's not like you're the
first person who ever wanted to take Superman down
a peg or two. Batman was probably just pissed that
*he* didn't get to do it. This time."

It's almost funny. And he can feel Nightwing's gloved
fingers on his eyelids, and they feel *different* from
Tim's gloves, even though Tim has never touched his
eyes, and that's probably the stupidest train of thought
he's ever had. He grits his teeth. "Look --"

"It's the aura holding it back, right? Not your skin.
That's the theory with Superman, anyway. Hmm."

He knows that 'hmm.' It's the 'don't take it personally,
but I'm kind of thinking of dissecting you,' that he's sick
of from everyone *but* Tim. Maybe it's a Bat thing.
"Um. Do you think you could --"

"Being around me isn't helping you keep it back, I'm
guessing."

"Well..."

"Look." And those hands are on his shoulders again.
"Or... listen."

"Do I have a choice?"

"I'm... not in your way, okay? Robin -- fuck this, I
*know* you know his name -- *Tim* is my friend,
and he's hot --"

"You know that thing about 'not helping?'"

"I'm just saying. It's not a... romantic relationship."

"Do you have any idea how fucked up it is that
you're pretty much trying to fix me up with your...
your..."

"Do *you* have any idea how often people ask me
questions that start like that? I try not to think about
it."

"Nightwing --" He cuts himself off. He doesn't actually
want to *say* 'I don't want to be your friend,' no
matter how true it is.

"Right. It's the aura holding it back, and you *control*
the aura, so... how did you stop it the first time?"

Safer ground. "I'm not sure. I just..."

"Thought about it?"

And Kon thinks classifying that moment of shock and
terror as 'thought' is probably pushing it, but... "Pretty
much? I was angry, and then I was too... freaked out
to be angry."

"Well, I could probably freak you out pretty easily, if
I put my mind to it."

"Please don't."

"Heh." Nightwing squeezes Kon's shoulders and slides
his hands up behind Kon's neck, digging in with his
thumbs.

"Uh --"

"You know, *you're* kind of hot."

"Jesus, what the *fuck*?" He steps away and
shoves Nightwing back against the door. "What are
you --"

"Worked, didn't it?"

And... it did. His eyes are open and nothing is on
fire. Except that he's got about three seconds before
he's pissed off again. Less if Nightwing keeps
smirking like that.

"Here's my thought: you were so busy focusing on
how angry you were that you couldn't focus on
anything else. Like control."

"Couldn't you have just gone with 'boo?'"

"Maybe next time. I have to bail." And he grins at
something -- someone -- over Kon's shoulder.
"Right, Boy Wonder?"

"Oh, I think so."

Jesus. Even *knowing* Tim was back there isn't
enough to keep his heart from trying to climb up his
throat.

Nightwing winks at him and finally -- *fucking
finally* -- leaves.

Kon closes the door behind him and doesn't bang his
head on it more than three or four times.

"Kon --"

"I don't think I like your... friends all that much, Tim."

"Why do you think I have so few of them?"

There's a smile in Tim's voice and it drags one onto
Kon's face before he can do anything about it. It isn't
a comfortable smile, and he isn't sure *how* he's
supposed to feel about that.

"Kon... do you... can we talk now? Maybe?"

Tim shouldn't ever sound that hesitant. "Like I'm
going to say no." And he doesn't so much hear Tim
moving closer as *feel* him. It's not so different from
the heat vision thing. Just... way too much potential
that he doesn't have any control over.

"I was a jerk before, and I'm sorry. It wasn't *your*
fault that Nightwing felt like playing bait-the-Robin."

The smile is a little easier this time, so he turns around.
Tim's got his cape back on, and he's all tucked away
like nothing could ever touch him. Like maybe people
should think twice before they did. But... "Man, I can't
believe you had sex with *him*."

"As opposed to?"

He takes a breath and hopes the hallway is dim enough
that the flush on his face isn't as completely obvious as
he knows it is. "I just... he doesn't seem like your...
type. And he's what, ten years older?"

"About. And what do you think my 'type' is?"

"I don't know, Tim." He looks down and grins ruefully.
"I honestly have no clue."

Tim wraps his hand around one of Kon's wrists and
squeezes. "Do you want to know why I had sex with
him? I mean... really."

"Uh... yes and no?"

"Because he knows more about me than pretty much
anyone who isn't Batman. I mean, yeah, I'm attracted
to him, and he's... well. But the main thing is that he's
safe."

"That's... kind of harsh." And just like you, he doesn't
say.

"Do you care? Because *he* doesn't. And... it works."

"I'm not... I mean. If you're happy, I am."

Tim shoves his wrist back against the door. "It's not
about being *happy*, Kon. It's not about... some kind
of romance."

"Um. I'd kind of like to have one conversation today
where I know what's going on."

Tim squeezes, hard enough that it would probably hurt
without his aura, and grabs the back of his head.

"Tim --"

And that's all he gets a chance to say before Tim yanks
him down into a kiss, hard and insistent, and it's
maybe nineteen kinds of wrong except for the way it
feels. And Tim's eyes are wide open, focused on his,
and impossible to look away from.

Kon gasps when Tim pulls away.

"You don't know me."

"What?"

"You keep saying you want to know more about me,
and I *know* what you're really saying. I know you're
attracted to me."

"It's not just --"

"But you don't *know* me. And I don't think you
want to."

"You... Christ, you're trying to protect me. You're
trying to scare me off!"

"Kon --"

"Jesus, *shut up*. I don't *get* you. I don't get *any*
of you people. Nightwing shows up to out you and
then spends, like, a *year* trying to fix me up with
you and then hits on *me*. *You* freak out about it,
kiss me, and then try to chase me away. You're all
*insane*."

"Well... yeah. That's kind of my point."

"Did you think I *didn't* know how screwed up you
are? It's fucking hard to miss, man."

"Oh. But --"

"I want you anyway. And that's fucked up, but it's
the truth. If you want to protect me from something,
*I* suggest you make it the rest of your family,
because I can only deal with one of you."

"And you want it to be me."

"*Yes*, you asshole!"

Tim lets go of his wrist and takes his hand away from
the back of Kon's neck. Folds both hands back under
his cape. "I think... I need to think about this."

"No, you really don't."

"Kon --"

"Look, man, I don't know *what* your creepy psycho
freak brain will come up with if I leave you alone
again. Let's just go back to the part where we're
kissing."

"I --"

Kon grabs Tim's arms and moves them until *Tim* has
his back to the door. And holds on, not-at-all-secretly
enjoying the feel of Tim's lean, hard biceps under his
palms. "I get it. I'm not safe. Fucking *make* me safe,
man, because you're not getting rid of me. I know
what you taste like now."

And Tim... it's not like he relaxes. It's more like he
stops feeling like something that could explode in
very specific and careful kinds of violence at any
given moment. Which is... probably the best opening
he's going to get.

He leans in and takes a kiss, sucking Tim's mouth
against his own and sliding his tongue *in*. And
moans, because he *does* know what Tim tastes
like, and knowing isn't doing anything but making
him want more.

He licks Tim's tongue and slides his hands up to
Tim's shoulders, up to his face, and Tim lets him tilt
his head and kisses back, hands on Kon's waist
(thicker, that's the difference, his gloves are thicker)
and holding on.

"Jesus," he says, but he doesn't really have words
to go after that.

Kon kisses Tim again and presses as close as he can,
close enough to feel a little heat through Tim's body
armor and he *wants* this. He sucks Tim's tongue
and moves his right hand down, yanking the cape
aside and grabbing Tim's ass and pulling him up and
*in*.

Tim makes a high, *hot* noise into his mouth and
he wants to know what Nightwing had done just so
he can do it better. He bites Tim's lip instead and
grinds them together.

"Oh."

"Fuck, say that again."

Tim laughs. "'Oh?"'

"You know what I mean."

"Hmm. Yeah, I guess I do."

And Kon can hear himself growl and feel himself moving
but it's all at a distance. He can't actually register
anything but Tim's soft, slick mouth against his cheek
and Tim's ass and Tim's *dick*, hidden behind some
kind of freaking groin armor but still *obvious*. He
forces himself to focus enough to hold Tim in place
with the TK and reaches between them, cupping Tim
through the tights.

And he thinks about where they are, but nobody's
getting to them through the roof unless they rip the
door off its hinges, and the only one who can make
it up the stairs without Kon hearing them coming is
just exactly where he wants him.

He tugs at the shorts, and the tights, and the jockeys,
just enough to get them out of the *way*, and the
first touch of skin makes him grunt and makes Tim
pant a little against his face.

But he doesn't say no.

"You *like* it that I'm not safe," he says, and it
comes out like an accusation.

"That isn't... what I meant. But yeah. Yes. Kon --"

He nudges Tim's head to the side with his face and
licks under his ear. Bites.

"Kon --"

Strokes Tim, strokes him hard and tries to make it
slow but *can't* --

"*Oh*..."

"Fuck, Tim, you're so hot..."

Tim bucks into his fist and then starts *thrusting*,
breathing fast and ragged against Kon's throat.

"I want to suck you, lick you --"

"Oh God --"

"Hold you down and *fuck* you --"

Tim bites his throat and Kon feels himself shooting
pre-come into his shorts, feels himself *needing*,
and strokes harder.

"And then you can do me. I want it --"

And Tim bites him harder, shouting against his skin
and coming in his hand.

Kon waits a second and then focuses, moving Tim
as gently as he can until he's pressed against the
door again. And then he licks his hand. He knows
what *that* tastes like, too, now.

"Kon."

"I meant it. I meant everything I just said. You're a
psychotic control freak and you have more issues
than *I* do, and I think you and your *fuckbuddy*
have driven me completely insane, and I want to
spend the rest of this weekend making you come."

Tim licks his lips, not quite pushing against the
TK-hold Kon has on his upper body. "We have
training."

He reaches down and grabs Tim's legs, lifting them
up around his hips. "Do you care? Because *I*
don't."

"I... deserved that."

"*Yeah*, you did."

And Tim's smile is something between lazy and
really kind of evil.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"*What*?"

"Seriously, nothing. I'm just... thinking."

Folded up against a door with his legs twined really
nicely and tightly around Kon's waist and the TK
keeping him still from the waist up... of *course* he's
thinking. Probably thinking about battle strategy,
*too*. "Uh, huh." He tugs at Tim's collar, trying to
figure it out by touch alone because *his* brain is
pretty firmly tied up. "Tell me."

"Pull there -- no... you've got it."

And the cape isn't really going anywhere with the
way Kon has Tim pressed to the door, and he can't
really get the collar to gap in any porny and
interesting way, but... skin. Soft and smooth, except
for a really kind of terrifying scar that he's not going
to think about. Except for the little humming sound
Tim makes when he strokes over it with his thumb.

He's probably going to think about that really kind of
a lot.

"What were you thinking?"

"Mm. About what I deserve."

"Oh. Oh, Jesus." It's an effort not to use the TK to
just *yank* Tim back against his body, but --

"Yeah. You know *Nightwing* had a surprisingly
large number of issues about my age, considering."

"Well, come on, he's --"

"Completely easy." And Tim tightens his legs around
Kon's waist and *pulls*.

"Fuck --"

"You've been hard since I kissed you. You *know*
what you want to do to me."

He does. He really does, and he can't stop himself
from pushing, from *grinding*, and he doesn't know
whether to be happy that he never managed to
actually yank Tim's tights *down*, or just frustrated.
He takes one of his hands off Tim's throat and brings
it back down to his ass, squeezing and stroking and
mostly just holding him in place.

"Kon..."

"God, I don't want to. Not... not against a fucking
*door*." He buries his face against Tim's neck and
wonders if Tim can feel the heat of his face.

Tim whimpers and... it's weird. It's *hot*, but it's
also weird. Because he can *feel* Tim trying to
move, but not really with his *body*. The aura is
holding Tim too still for that, but the aura is also
picking up *everything*.

"Hold still, you're gonna drive me crazy --"

And Tim stops. "You can *feel* that?"

"All over. God, Tim, it's like you're touching me --"

And his knees buckle, because whatever Tim was
trying to do before, he's doing it *more* now. And
holding on tight with his legs and *watching* him.
Kon braces one of his hands next to Tim's head on
the door and clutches Tim's ass.

Because he knows it's on purpose.

"Is this what you were feeling before?"

"No... yes. Different when I'm touching you --
*please*."

"Are you going to come?"

Kon groans and thrusts against Tim's crotch, planting
his feet and trying to steady himself. It's like being...
*fondled*. Pinched on his toes and kissed on his ass
and licked by something dry and hot and ruthless all
over.

"You *could* let me go."

"Can't."

"Not while I'm moving like this? That's a problem."

And Tim might as well be talking about *training*.
He probably *is*. "Can't concentrate. I --"

"Don't concentrate. Let me --" And Tim sort of...
frowns. Like *he's* concentrating.

And he *is*, because the motion is rhythmic now, the
same rolling grind as Tim's hips, only this is all over.
*Surrounding* him and working him too hard and
not hard enough and Kon's body is *screaming* at
him to let go, but all he can do is gasp and dig his
fingers *into* the door and come in his pants.

"Oh, Kon..."

He manages a whimper.

"Easy. I'm gonna stop now." And Tim unwraps his
legs from around Kon's waist and stills.

Kon takes a breath and lets go, snapping back into
his own body hard enough to make him moan again.
Drops to his knees and pushes his face against Tim's
thigh. He can see Tim adjusting himself and tugging
everything back into place out of the corner of his
eye, and it's just another reason to moan.

Tim strokes his hair once and pushes him back a
little before crouching down beside him. "I think
I've found a new way to get you to practice with
your powers."

"When I can think again I'm pretty much going to
have to hurt you."

Tim snickers and cups Kon's face with his hand,
brushing over his cheekbone in a way that doesn't
feel idle at all, or even especially affectionate.

Kon looks up to find a weirdly speculative expression
on Tim's face. "What?"

"Flirting with insults, getting off on your... partner
being a freak, sex in inappropriate public places...
I'm just thinking you'd look kind of hot with a
mask."

"You." He stops. Thinks about it. "You *aren't*
completely joking, are you?"

Tim is smiling, but he also isn't quite facing him.
"Scared yet?"

Kon snorts. "Man, I was scared two *years* ago. I
think I was scared in that freaking tube." He runs
his thumb down the bridge of Tim's nose, making
him jerk. "I'm not going anywhere. Except maybe
to change my pants."

"Remind me to introduce you to Dylan."

"Hunh?"

"Nothing." And Tim leans in and kisses him, hard
and slow and for a nicely extended period of time
before standing up. "Come on."

And Kon is reasonably sure he's supposed to have
been distracted from *something*, but... he can go
with it.

He follows Tim down the stairs.

end.