[There is a certain measure of trust involved with taking someone to bed, showing them who you are without clothes, without walls - maybe not always, but Tim's never been into casual sex and anonymous one-night stands. He wouldn't sleep with someone he didn't care about deeply. That's not who he is.
He trusts Jason more than enough to be here with him, enough to ask him to simultaneously hold him together and unravel him a little - enough to ask Jason to show him the reciprocal side of himself that Tim is putting on display for Jason to see. Tim's walls are smaller, easier to pull down, but it still takes effort and willingness to do so, and for Jason? Tim is absolutely willing to make the effort.
And the outcome is worth the effort; Jason is giving Tim exactly what he wants, overwhelming him in the exact right way, like a carefully controlled building demolition. Like how it felt to have all of that intensity turned on him when Jason first came back to Gotham, enraged and determined to take revenge on the entire world, only without the gut-churning uncertainty that he'll walk away from this encounter in one piece. Jason pushes inside of Tim, over and over, touches him in all the right ways, and the rest of the world outside of touch and breath and sound and taste and Jason falls away. Every time Jason hits the right place, Tim moans a little louder, the syllables of Jason's name blurring into indistinct sounds, and he holds on to Jason a little tighter, gasps for breath a little harder, hopes this feeling never ends a little longer.]
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He trusts Jason more than enough to be here with him, enough to ask him to simultaneously hold him together and unravel him a little - enough to ask Jason to show him the reciprocal side of himself that Tim is putting on display for Jason to see. Tim's walls are smaller, easier to pull down, but it still takes effort and willingness to do so, and for Jason? Tim is absolutely willing to make the effort.
And the outcome is worth the effort; Jason is giving Tim exactly what he wants, overwhelming him in the exact right way, like a carefully controlled building demolition. Like how it felt to have all of that intensity turned on him when Jason first came back to Gotham, enraged and determined to take revenge on the entire world, only without the gut-churning uncertainty that he'll walk away from this encounter in one piece. Jason pushes inside of Tim, over and over, touches him in all the right ways, and the rest of the world outside of touch and breath and sound and taste and Jason falls away. Every time Jason hits the right place, Tim moans a little louder, the syllables of Jason's name blurring into indistinct sounds, and he holds on to Jason a little tighter, gasps for breath a little harder, hopes this feeling never ends a little longer.]