[Tim hasn't realized he's got anything on Jason. Sure, Tim's pretty good at reading people, but Jason's easy to read on some things and much more difficult to read on others, and this whole situation, what's unfolding between them, falls firmly into the latter category. Jason's indicated wanting Tim, but not the motives behind that want. Maybe the attraction is simply Tim wanting him. Maybe for Jason it's just about sex, an enjoyable act and a willing partner. Maybe it's about nothing more than control, about having Tim - quite literally - under his thumb, seeing what kinds of reactions he can get. Tim doesn't know, but whatever the case, he doesn't really care; his senses are too full of Jason to divert much thought to reading him, and he's too caught up in the moment to question why it's happening.]
What a gentleman. Drawer - here.
[Reluctantly, he slips his fingers out of Jason's hair and reaches to the nightstand beside the bed, feeling blindly for the knob to tug the drawer open. He's a little too forceful with it; the drawer pulls out entirely and crashes to the floor, scattering its contents - condoms and lube, of course he has them, he's always prepared.]
( tim's hands reach for the drawer and jason lets up a bit, gives him space to grab shit. except he fucking fails to slide the drawer open, and instead everything goes toppling onto the floor, a little too far out of his reach, and far out of tim's.
he's quiet, for a moment. head tilted to the side to look towards the mess, before his lips spread into a grin and he laughs. the hand that had been in tim's hair moves to press it's palm against the mattress, holding his weight up to keep from putting too much of it on tim. ) I think you underestimated your strength a little, Timmy.
( that playful lilt is back in his tone; jason shifts his hips forward, grinds soft into tim--a distraction of sorts, while the fingers that had wrapped around his length pull back. tim made what he wanted pretty clear, and sadly, one of them is going to need to get close enough to the shit he just knocked on the floor if they want to continue. )
[How fucking embarrassing, to get so tripped up in your thirst you end up scattering an entire drawer's contents like this, like an excited puppy that can't stop jumping and knocking things over. It's a good thing Jason's laughing - with Tim, that's what it feels like, because Tim's laughing too, quietly, behind the hand clapped over his face, not at him - because otherwise, Tim would feel like an even bigger fool than he already does.]
What, like you've never - ?
[He doesn't finish that comment, because Jason pushes his hips forward, and there's warmth spidering up his stomach, and Tim has to take a second to catch his breath all over again.
Then Jason's telling him to move. Sure, he can do that, cooperate. Mumbles something like OK as he complies, shifts his legs out of the way, but since he's moving anyway and Jason's a little distracted, Tim also takes the opportunity to sit up and get his teeth around Jason's ear again. He's helping, honestly.]
( this is not helping, tim. the teeth earn tim a soft moan--and while he had full intentions of getting up, sliding off the bed and picking through the mess they've made on the floor--now tim's got his full attention. again. jason's hand moves to grab onto one of tim's thighs, holding onto it and pushing his leg up as he moves forward, into him, again--presses his hips against the other's own and grinds down against them. )
I thought you wanted me to fuck you until you couldn't even remember your own name. ( he lowers his voice, murmuring softly as he grinds into tim again, hisses between his teeth at just how good it feels, pressed up against tim like this. he's hard, he wants to fuck tim, but hell--being with him like this is honestly enough for him. this feels good enough, just like this. jason really wouldn't mind rutting against him until tim got off--but tim wanted everything, didn't he?
even with tim's teeth digging into his ear, jason's leaning down, pulling against that hold on his skin to dig his own teeth right into the juncture of tim's neck, hard. )
[The moan Tim makes into Jason's ear isn't at all subtle, and neither is the sharp cry that comes over the bite to his neck. He laughs though, shivering, sliding his hands over Jason's shoulders.]
I do - I do - [he laughs again, quick and breathless] - can you really blame me if - if I can't keep my hands off you?
[Now that he's got Jason this close, finally, Tim's reluctant to let go of him, even for a moment; if he does, there's a fear, maybe partly irrational, that Jason will disappear. Change his mind, decide to leave after all. Maybe it's not so irrational, knowing Jason. But Tim did the extremely dumb thing of knocking everything to the floor, so letting Jason go, just for a moment, is a logistic necessity. He relaxes back into the mattress, slides his hands off Jason, yields.]
( irrational is the way the moment jason detangles himself from tim, he does start--doubting himself. doubting this. he knows tim wants it, has been around tim long enough to have realized that this is something that he wants, but--is he absolutely sure he wants it? tim knows better than most all the baggage jason carries around with him, the years of fuckups, the stupid way he'd walked right into the trap that had gotten him killed.
the way he had come back, angry and determined to take it out on bruce. how livid he was over being replaced. it's been. . a while, a very long time, and jason has forgiven bruce, they're not on the worst terms, anymore--and he's definitely not on bad terms with tim.
jason shakes it off, though.
let's it go, for once. doesn't let it get to him, he slides off the edge of the bed and gets to his feet, uses the opportunity to take his pants off and grip onto the edge of the kevlar shirt, taking a bit of time to yank that off, too. after it's off, he bends down, picks up the lube and a few condoms. leaves the rest scattered, because he sure as hell isn't taking the time to clean up tim's messes.
not when there's better things they can be doing. jason goes back over to the bed, climbs his way back over tim and leaves the shit he'd picked up by tim's head as he leans back in to kiss him hard once more. )
[Tim's well aware of Jason's baggage, his flaws, his history, the things he's done and his motivations for doing them. He's seen Jason's rage and hate, and he can guess at the pain that fuels them both. None of it matters to Tim; he wants Jason anyway, imperfections and all. Those flaws are part of what makes Jason who he is, part of why Tim finds him beautiful. He wants Jason, all of him; he wants the danger, the intensity, the singular-minded focus, and he wants the Jason underneath the masks he wears, too. Everything.
It's hard to keep still, watching Jason undress. Tim still wants to get Jason under his hands, help peel off that armor, feel what he's like without that layer of distance, but he stays, as promised, and Jason returns soon enough. There's a pleased hum waiting for Jason in that kiss, fingers slipping back into his hair, Tim's other hand sliding up Jason's back, thumb tracing over his shoulder blade. Tim opens his mouth, deepens the kiss, invites Jason in with the curl of his tongue. He's breathless by the time the kiss breaks, but he manages a crooked half-smile and a single word:]
( not much surprises jason, anymore. life in gotham generally ruins any chance of surprise. you get used to expecting the unexpected. to weird shit happening every day. to bullets and bruises. but right now, this? this is new territory for him; he half-expects tim to tell him to fuck off when he comes back to him, even though he knows that it's fucking stupid to think that. but tim takes him back into his arms, presses his hands into his shoulders and hums into his mouth and it's all jason can do to not lose himself in tim.
he gives his own pleased sound back into the kiss, presses in hard when tim invites him in, and pulls back when he's run out of air, breathing hard. jason sticks his tongue out, licks at his lips for a moment before he's twisting a leg in under one of tim's own and--rolling them over, pulling tim up over him and moving both hands down to grab at his ass. it's a little easier for him to focus on using his hands when they're not also holding up his weight, after all.
jsaon presses another kiss along tim's jawline, nips into the flesh there before murmuring: ) Your pace, alright? If I start pushing you too much, just say so. ( because he may be the fighter, the one who doesn't fucking stop, who goes on pure instinct and fucks shit up--but jason's definitely not into pushing people like this. one hand leaves tim's ass, reaches over for the tube of lube and pops open the cap. )
[The shift in positions isn't an unwelcome one; Jason will find no resistance from Tim in being moved. He laughs under his breath, delighted with how Jason's touching him, but he instantly sobers when Jason speaks. It's - a little surprising, but also not; Jason had hesitated before starting any of this, wanted reassurances from Tim that he truly wanted what he was asking for. Consent is important, but so is communication, especially when this is so new and they're still learning each other.]
OK.
[He nods, runs the tip of his tongue over his upper lip. Takes a moment to just look at Jason, place his hand at the side of his jaw, run the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone. He's nervous, a little afraid that he's going to fuck this up somehow, do something to chase Jason off forever. But he's come too far to let those anxieties and insecurities get the better of him.]
I'm not sure if that's good or bad. ( still, he gives a soft laugh under his breath--shifts up and pulls tim's hips along with him until they're both sitting up. jason's hands move to adjust tim's legs, fingers moving along his thighs as he tugs at them, pulls them to frame his own hips.
it gives tim a little more control. not that tim can't get his way out from under jason if he really wanted to. jason's larger, physically more powerful, sure, but tim knows how to use that smaller frame to his advantage. just another thing to add onto the list of shit jason finds attractive, really.
a hand steadies itself against tim's hip, fingers gripping hard onto flesh and tugging him in, pulling tim down just as jason rolls his hips up, a low, pleased sound passing his lips--but jason's quick to turn his attention onto something else: the stupid bottle of lube he'd left further up the bed.
the hand he's not holding onto tim with moves back behind him, sliding across sheets and blankets as he searches for it. )
[You are good, he means, and I believe in you, I always have. They've both made mistakes, neither of them is perfect, but Tim wholly believes that underneath the anger and the damage, at his core, Jason has a good heart. On his knees in Jason's lap, pulled in close, chest to chest, skin to skin, Tim slides his arms over the tops of Jason's shoulders and feels paradoxically safe.]
I mean it - I trust you.
[Tim practically melts into Jason, a quiet, answering moan exhaled at Jason's mouth as he's pulled in closer, rolls his hips against Jason in return. He places a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth, then over his eyebrow, then notices the movement of Jason's hand along the bed out of the corner of his eye. He can see behind Jason a little better, so he reaches out to retrieve the bottle and nudges it into Jason's hand, returning to his mouth with another kiss - longer, slower, eager.]
( being told he's trusted probably shouldn't feel more intimate than--the rest of this, but it most certainly does. tim's pressed against him, melting into him, moving against him and all of that is nice, gets his heart pacing in his chest, it feels good to feel wanted like this.
what feels even better is the way his heartbeat skips the more tim talks to him. trust isn't something jason deserves. it's not something he's earned. not from tim. not yet. regardless, tim's grinding down against him, telling him how trusting him is good, he trusts him. the bottle in his hand is helpful, thank you, but jason takes another moment to just kiss him, enjoying the taste of tim.
another moan passes his lips, muffled by tim's mouth against his own but he's quick to try and hide that shit by uncapping the lube, moving his hands behind tim so he can put a decent amount of it onto the palm of his hand.
it's only then that he moves his hand back between them, fingers wrapping back around tim's cock to start stroking him once more. taking his time. he wants to make sure tim really feels it. )
[Maybe trust isn't something that's earned with Tim. Maybe it's not something fought to win - maybe it's given and expected to be kept. Maybe that's how it is for Jason, at least. Tim has so many reasons not to trust Jason, and yet he does anyway. He wants to trust Jason, and now that the idea's been planted in his head, it's going to take a hell of a lot to dissuade him from this path.
At the start of this, Tim expected a battle of sorts. He expected rough kisses, bites, bruises, and Jason's given him all of this, sure - but there's more. There's gentleness, care, concern. There's slow, exploratory kisses, kisses that linger, kisses that simply savor the contact, and Tim didn't expect any of that from Jason, but it feels, in a place beyond words, like undeniable confirmation that his instinct about Jason, his willingness to trust, is correct. Like there's so much more to Jason, underneath the gruff exterior and the smoldering anger and his seemingly-endless well of pain. Tim's suspected as much, and now, he feels like he knows it to be true.
Tim exhales a thin whine at the side of Jason's neck when he takes him in hand again. His hips buck forward; his fingertips rove over Jason's shoulders, against his neck, over the sides of his face, mapping out the shape of Jason, then come to rest buried in his hair. There's no disguising the awed note his tone takes when he finds his capacity for words once again.]
God, Jason, I could come just like this, you know that? But - mm, I meant what I said before. I want you to fuck me, I want to make you feel good, too - you feel - so good, Jason.
( jason could keep this up for forever; take his time pulling sounds out of tim, find all the places he’s sensitive and push and pull until he comes completely undone. that sounds like a great plan, to him. he loves this, loves the way tim’s hips move against him hands over his shoulders, neck, in his hair and this definitely isn’t enough to push him over that edge, but jason doesn’t mind keeping his place just one step away from it. not when this is the reward he gets for it.
but tim’s speaking, telling him he wants more and jason supposes there’s no reason to deny him; he’s sure tim’s got the stamina to go a round and keep going. he leans in a little more, presses a soft kiss to tim’s ear before speaking directly against it, tone low and full of lust: ) No need to rush, Tim. I’ve got you. ( it’s a promise, in more ways than one--even if jason has no intention of voicing them. his hand releases tim’s erection, still slick fingers sliding over his hip, his ass, pressing to his entrance as he turns his head just a bit more to dig his teeth into the shell of tim’s ear and bites down hard, teeth sliding down his ear to his lobe so jason can pull it onto his mouth, sucking on it as he pushes his index finger into tim.
he’s still taking his time slow and steady, but he’ll push a little further--sure. )
[Tim shivers at the soft words curling in his ear, the softer kiss Jason places there, because he didn't expect this either, and it's all that much sweeter for the unexpectedness of it. It's a part of Jason that seems like a secret: something few are ever shown; something fragile; something for Tim to hold on to and treasure well past tonight. If he'd ever imagined far enough into the details of his wishing for this kind of connection with Jason, Tim certainly wouldn't have been able to guess that being with Jason would go like this. It's a pleasant surprise, and there are so few of them to be found in lives like theirs that the rarity of it feels like a twofold gift.
Tim doesn't necessarily want to rush through this, he's just - enthusiastic. The idea that Jason Todd would ever want him enough to allow him in this far always felt like an impossibility to Tim, and now that Jason's proving that assumption to be incorrect with every kiss, every mark his mouth makes on Tim's skin, every trailing touch - Tim is positively ravenous for more, a flame burning faster by the second, consuming every bit of fuel added to it and turning it back around into heat.
Teeth close around his ear, and a moan tumbles off Tim's tongue; the sound redoubles in the next moment when Jason pushes inside of him, and if Tim had any space in his brain for awareness beyond the immediacy of touch, he'd be embarrassed at just how desperate he sounds. His back arches; his fingers wrap around Jason's shoulders; his lungs forget how to breathe for half a second.
Then he recovers, breathing hard to get back that lost oxygen, and one hand releases Jason's shoulder to slip down between them, searching downward, fingers wrapping lightly around him once they land on his length. Tim smiles against Jason's mouth, nips lightly at his bottom lip, quickly follows with a kiss.]
( enthusiastic and responsive and if jason's being honest with himself--tim's noises are a little overwhelming. no wet dream he's ever had could have prepared him for this; the feeling of tim's skin against his own, his lips pressing close, those moans he gives--the way his back arches, how his body moves against him.
teeth dig tight into the inside of his cheek when tim just stops breathing. he gives him a few moments to get control of himself, to take that deep breath in and gain some semblance of tim again and then he's fucking smiling again and jesus. all this is nice and all, touching him, feeling him, tasting tim--but he's pretty sure this'd be all just as pleasing if they'd just roll over so he could bury his face against his neck and take a few hours to breathe him in.
because that smile is going to be the second death of jason todd.
jason presses in close, kisses tim deep and hard, fucks his mouth with his tongue and moans against him as he pushes his digit in further, stretches him out slow. takes his time to really feel tim despite himself. he's got him right where he wants him, right where he never thought he'd have tim and get a few poor life decisions later, here he is: on tim's bed, tim in his lap and those nice, thin fingers wrapped around his cock.
at least if he dies now, it'd be a real nice fucking(ha) death. he'd have no regrets going out with tim moaning in his lap. )
[Don't go dying again just yet, Jason. Or - well. Maybe a little death would be all right. Maybe if they both catch fire, maybe if they both burn up on each other, maybe if they both rise up anew after and pull each other out of the ashes of who they used to be, that would be fine. Tim's certainly not complaining - not that he could, with Jason's tongue this far in his mouth, but if the deep, pleased sounds he's making into that kiss are any indication, if the way Tim melts into Jason's touch is any clue, he's worlds from complaining about any of this. A little death is an acceptable outcome here, yes.
Tim's hand doesn't move much. He doesn't work Jason hard, just brushes his fingertips slowly back and forth to make sure Jason's ready. Mostly. Part of it's just to touch him, see what will keep drawing out those answering moans to Tim's. If he were able to think right now instead of simply feel, move, touch, Tim might consider what he's doing might be viewed as teasing.
But not right now. Right now, Tim's operating on instinct, and from the sounds Jason's making snd the way he's toughing Tim, he's guessing that Jason is fine with it, too.]
( and if he’d been in his right mind, he might have called tim out on that. on how the teasing touches really aren’t helping, how it’s only burning jason even hotter. how each brush of his fingers against him right there, only aids in getting making jason even more antsy to get inside of him. tim is teasing him, whether purposefully or not, but jason can’t even think to protest when he has the taste of tim on his tongue, when he’s busy drinking in every sound that passes his throat.
jason is impatient. he’s been doing his best, really, he has—but this is pushing even his limits. he thrusts his digit in deep, pulls it back and pushes in a second finger. if tim’s uncomfortable, he’ll stop—he’ll swear he will; jason will slow down and take his time, but there’s absolutely no way he can resist trying to go a little faster when those noises are pouring down his throat, when tim’s fingers touch him just enough to get him aching but not enough to get him anywhere else.
his mouth pulls back to give him space to breathe, to take a few deep breaths and shift his head, tilt his face to dig his nose into tim’s hair, trying to burn every sense (the sight, the smell, the taste, his weight so close against him, the sounds tim makes--) into his head; this exact moment won’t last for forever, but jason sure as hell can do his best to burn it into the black under his eyelids, replace the nightmareish memories with something good for once. )
Tim. ( he calls out to him, voice low and gruff, fingers pressing in deep. ) Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.
[Tim laughs, a high, fluttering sound made in the breaks between his quick, shallow breaths.]
Don't - don't people usually say that I - I talk too much?
[It's not a real protest. If Jason wants to hear his voice, Tim's happy to provide. If it's verbal reassurance he's looking for, Tim's got it, ready to give. Sure, it means he has to stop kissing Jason, for the moment, but he can come back to that in a bit. Tim's free hand slides up the back of Jason's head, fingers slide through his hair, and Tim slowly pushes himself back against Jason's hand, encouraging his fingers in deeper, breath catching in his throat as he adjusts to the feeling of Jason inside of him, imagines what it will feel like moments from now when he's riding Jason instead.]
You're good, Jason, I'm - I'm good, just - God, Jason, don't stop. Please. [He inhales, quick, breathes out a soft moan against Jason's shoulder, presses his lips against Jason's skin, eager to have the taste of him in his mouth all over again.] I want you. I want you, you're - you're perfect. Don't stop.
Yeah, maybe. ( tim is, after all, the robin who chased after the title, isn't he? the one who deduced batman's true identity, found dick grayson, tried to convince him to take it back and when that didn't work, took it himself. he's the one who made it his. tim definitely does talk too much. but jason talks a little too much once he gets his mouth running, too. it's habit. one ingrained into every robin.
hips push back into his fingers and he takes that as a hint to push forward a little more--scissors them inside of tim, stretches him out as best he can with just his digits. he doesn't want to hurt him, but he's real close to running out of patience. so instead, he distracts himself by talking a little too much, too. )
I wish I could record the noises you're making, Tim. ( his voice is still low, murmured against the side of tim's head, into his hair. ) You sound amazing. The way your voice hitches when I move my fingers--the little whines you make. There's no way I could stop anymore, now that I know how hot and tight you are inside. You've got me, all of me. ( his head tilts, lips pressing against tim's ear in a gentle kiss before he's removing his fingers entirely, settles his hand on the curve of tim's ass instead. )
[Tim loses himself a little in these moments - not thinking, for once, just feeling, touching, hearing Jason's voice curl in his ear, encouraging, breathing where he can, letting those quiet noises Jason likes to hear slip over his tongue without care or restraint. It's freeing, in a way, having his attention so thoroughly pulled into focus by one thing, Jason, that nothing else matters. This is exactly what he asked for, isn't it; Tim said he wanted to forget his own name in place of Jason's, and God, he's so close to it already. Jason removes his fingers and the absence pulls Tim back into himself a fractional amount, enough to recognize what he needs to do next. He smiles into Jason's shoulder. A show, huh? OK, then.]
You want to record me, Jason? Come better prepared next time.
[Next time. It's an invitation, sure, but it sounds like a dare, a challenge. Tim stays close, keeps his fingers wound in Jason's hair, but drops his teasing hold of Jason and slides his hand across the bed, feeling out for a condom.]
You don't need to record me, you know. You could keep hearing me sound like this - you could hear me sound like this whenever you want, Jason, just come over. My window's always open for you. You know I don't sleep.
[He works quickly while he talks, murmuring in Jason's ear while he tears the wrapper open and rolls the condom over Jason, slowly, teasing again, only this time it's deliberate. Tim grins under Jason's ear, pushes himself up on his knees, shifts, and starts to lower himself down onto Jason, moaning softly as he moves, taking his time to feel Jason inside of him. He takes another moment to catch his breath and lean back into Jason, arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, breath hot and close against his ear.]
I could be - mm, Jason, I could be yours. If you want me, I'll - I'll be yours.
( let's be real: jason carries an array of items, plenty to be used to record tim, if he really felt like it. he could pull out his phone, turn on the video record function. turn on the audio record. but this? this is much more fun. it's riding that line of could, should--but not definitely gives him the advantage of thinking of next time. jason feels the twist of tim's lips against his shoulders, gives a soft, rumbled hum against tim's ear in response.
it feels good. that's what matters. )
That an invitation, Tim? To come over here whenever I want to touch you, just like this? Maybe next time I'll come find you when you're on a mission. Sneak down into that Robin's Nest of yours, take you on your work table. ( and he would, too. he'd push tim over, undo his pants, pull them down his thighs and thrust into him hard, push him over that edge again and again and again until work was the last thing on tim's mind. ) Maybe next time you're on patrol. Find a nice roof top--push you up against the brick wall, hands sliding rough against it. rip through the fabric over your ass, take you 'til you're screaming my name to the rest of Gotham--
( tim's sinking down onto him, the tightwetheat cutting jason off midthought. he's careful, still. bites down onto his lip, groans into tim's ear as he sinks down. he wants to move, wants to thrust up into him, but he needs to give tim a moment to adjust. last thing either of them want is this whole thing turning unpleasant. )
Did--did you think I'd go this far if I didn't want you? Jesus, Tim.
[He laughs again, breath stuttering in his lungs as he waits for the feeling of Jason inside him to normalize. It feels strange but good - better than Jason's fingers, better even than Tim imagined it would, soft fire shooting up his spine and pooling deep in his gut.]
Guess I know what else I need to - to start packing in my belt.
[Because he's always prepared for everything, isn't he, even for being surprised. Tim exhales a soft, low whine, slowly pushing himself down farther still, fingertips gripping Jason's shoulders to keep him steady, taking another moment to wait and feel and breathe.]
You better not be joking, Jason.
[He wants those words to roll off his tongue and sound light, playful - but they don't. They're serious, a betrayal of just how badly Tim wants what Jason describes - to be fucked on rooftops, taken on his work table, surprised in his own apartment by Jason turning up for no other reason than wanting Tim. Teeth close around his own lip as Tim takes in a deep breath and tries not to think about whether he sounds desperate to the point of pathetic, then he turns his head in toward Jason and presses his teeth around Jason's earlobe instead, whispering encouragement into his ear:]
What, you don’t already carry condoms and lube around in your belt? Considering how much shit you had in your drawer--color me surprised. ( this--this is nice. tim over him, moving slow, taking his tim to get used to it, chatting casually while he sinks lower onto jason; it’s fucking killing him a little, feeling that hottight vice around him and not grabbing onto those hips and shoving him down. next time they’ll go fast, he thinks. he’ll find tim when he’s out on patrol, find a nice dark, abandoned alley and take him hard. cause cuts and scrapes on those calloused palms as they press against bricks, push tim into the wall and leave him screaming, ruin red robin.
the fantasy’s enough for the moment. it’s enough of a distraction. he wants and wants and wants and taking it all would be so easy, but jason--for all his snark, for the harsh words and the even more harsh way he shoves those around him, he’s not going to push tim over like a fucking animal the first time. he can be better than that. he wants to be.
jason’s always wanted to be better.
those words whispered into his ear leave him dizzy with permission, and jason’s certainly not wasting that. hands grip hard onto tim’s hips, fingers digging into flesh hard enough to bruise as he give a guttural, pleased sound and lifts tim’s hips, pulls him up, pauses for just a moment once he’s lifted him high enough that just the head of his erection’s still inside and leans in, presses lips to the underside of tim’s jaw. )
Brace your hands on my shoulders. ( he laughs, just barely audible. ) You’re so light. ( which. is the only warning tim’s getting before jason’s pulling him back down hard, hips thrusting up into him at the same time to bury himself in to the hilt. one second, two--shudder running through his spine as teeth dig into the inside of jason’s cheek and he’s lifting tim again, thrusting hips up as he pulls him back down. )
I try not to - mix business and pleasure, [is the halting explanation Tim gives Jason as he takes hold of his hips, ready to start moving him. He likes this feeling, not thinking, turning over control to Jason - he doesn't have to be strong and capable, doesn't have to be what people expect from Tim Drake or Red Robin, he can simply be, experience the moment as it unfolds without planning for what comes next.
It feels a little like falling, a little like hitting the ground so hard you lose your breath. Tim holds on to Jason's shoulders as instructed, fingers pressing in a little harder against his skin when he's pulled down, a whispered moan falling out of his mouth as he sees stars behind his eyelids and gasps for that air missing from his lungs. He's pulled down again, kissing a wordless mmm of approval at Jason's mouth as his nerve endings light up in pleasure-pain.]
Jason, [he breathes, rolling his hips back and then leaning up to push himself back down against Jason all over again.]
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no subject
What a gentleman. Drawer - here.
[Reluctantly, he slips his fingers out of Jason's hair and reaches to the nightstand beside the bed, feeling blindly for the knob to tug the drawer open. He's a little too forceful with it; the drawer pulls out entirely and crashes to the floor, scattering its contents - condoms and lube, of course he has them, he's always prepared.]
Damn it.
no subject
he's quiet, for a moment. head tilted to the side to look towards the mess, before his lips spread into a grin and he laughs. the hand that had been in tim's hair moves to press it's palm against the mattress, holding his weight up to keep from putting too much of it on tim. ) I think you underestimated your strength a little, Timmy.
( that playful lilt is back in his tone; jason shifts his hips forward, grinds soft into tim--a distraction of sorts, while the fingers that had wrapped around his length pull back. tim made what he wanted pretty clear, and sadly, one of them is going to need to get close enough to the shit he just knocked on the floor if they want to continue. )
You're going to need to move your legs.
no subject
What, like you've never - ?
[He doesn't finish that comment, because Jason pushes his hips forward, and there's warmth spidering up his stomach, and Tim has to take a second to catch his breath all over again.
Then Jason's telling him to move. Sure, he can do that, cooperate. Mumbles something like OK as he complies, shifts his legs out of the way, but since he's moving anyway and Jason's a little distracted, Tim also takes the opportunity to sit up and get his teeth around Jason's ear again. He's helping, honestly.]
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I thought you wanted me to fuck you until you couldn't even remember your own name. ( he lowers his voice, murmuring softly as he grinds into tim again, hisses between his teeth at just how good it feels, pressed up against tim like this. he's hard, he wants to fuck tim, but hell--being with him like this is honestly enough for him. this feels good enough, just like this. jason really wouldn't mind rutting against him until tim got off--but tim wanted everything, didn't he?
even with tim's teeth digging into his ear, jason's leaning down, pulling against that hold on his skin to dig his own teeth right into the juncture of tim's neck, hard. )
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I do - I do - [he laughs again, quick and breathless] - can you really blame me if - if I can't keep my hands off you?
[Now that he's got Jason this close, finally, Tim's reluctant to let go of him, even for a moment; if he does, there's a fear, maybe partly irrational, that Jason will disappear. Change his mind, decide to leave after all. Maybe it's not so irrational, knowing Jason. But Tim did the extremely dumb thing of knocking everything to the floor, so letting Jason go, just for a moment, is a logistic necessity. He relaxes back into the mattress, slides his hands off Jason, yields.]
Go ahead - I'll be good.
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the way he had come back, angry and determined to take it out on bruce. how livid he was over being replaced. it's been. . a while, a very long time, and jason has forgiven bruce, they're not on the worst terms, anymore--and he's definitely not on bad terms with tim.
jason shakes it off, though.
let's it go, for once. doesn't let it get to him, he slides off the edge of the bed and gets to his feet, uses the opportunity to take his pants off and grip onto the edge of the kevlar shirt, taking a bit of time to yank that off, too. after it's off, he bends down, picks up the lube and a few condoms. leaves the rest scattered, because he sure as hell isn't taking the time to clean up tim's messes.
not when there's better things they can be doing. jason goes back over to the bed, climbs his way back over tim and leaves the shit he'd picked up by tim's head as he leans back in to kiss him hard once more. )
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It's hard to keep still, watching Jason undress. Tim still wants to get Jason under his hands, help peel off that armor, feel what he's like without that layer of distance, but he stays, as promised, and Jason returns soon enough. There's a pleased hum waiting for Jason in that kiss, fingers slipping back into his hair, Tim's other hand sliding up Jason's back, thumb tracing over his shoulder blade. Tim opens his mouth, deepens the kiss, invites Jason in with the curl of his tongue. He's breathless by the time the kiss breaks, but he manages a crooked half-smile and a single word:]
Better.
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he gives his own pleased sound back into the kiss, presses in hard when tim invites him in, and pulls back when he's run out of air, breathing hard. jason sticks his tongue out, licks at his lips for a moment before he's twisting a leg in under one of tim's own and--rolling them over, pulling tim up over him and moving both hands down to grab at his ass. it's a little easier for him to focus on using his hands when they're not also holding up his weight, after all.
jsaon presses another kiss along tim's jawline, nips into the flesh there before murmuring: ) Your pace, alright? If I start pushing you too much, just say so. ( because he may be the fighter, the one who doesn't fucking stop, who goes on pure instinct and fucks shit up--but jason's definitely not into pushing people like this. one hand leaves tim's ass, reaches over for the tube of lube and pops open the cap. )
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OK.
[He nods, runs the tip of his tongue over his upper lip. Takes a moment to just look at Jason, place his hand at the side of his jaw, run the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone. He's nervous, a little afraid that he's going to fuck this up somehow, do something to chase Jason off forever. But he's come too far to let those anxieties and insecurities get the better of him.]
I trust you, Jason.
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it gives tim a little more control. not that tim can't get his way out from under jason if he really wanted to. jason's larger, physically more powerful, sure, but tim knows how to use that smaller frame to his advantage. just another thing to add onto the list of shit jason finds attractive, really.
a hand steadies itself against tim's hip, fingers gripping hard onto flesh and tugging him in, pulling tim down just as jason rolls his hips up, a low, pleased sound passing his lips--but jason's quick to turn his attention onto something else: the stupid bottle of lube he'd left further up the bed.
the hand he's not holding onto tim with moves back behind him, sliding across sheets and blankets as he searches for it. )
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[You are good, he means, and I believe in you, I always have. They've both made mistakes, neither of them is perfect, but Tim wholly believes that underneath the anger and the damage, at his core, Jason has a good heart. On his knees in Jason's lap, pulled in close, chest to chest, skin to skin, Tim slides his arms over the tops of Jason's shoulders and feels paradoxically safe.]
I mean it - I trust you.
[Tim practically melts into Jason, a quiet, answering moan exhaled at Jason's mouth as he's pulled in closer, rolls his hips against Jason in return. He places a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth, then over his eyebrow, then notices the movement of Jason's hand along the bed out of the corner of his eye. He can see behind Jason a little better, so he reaches out to retrieve the bottle and nudges it into Jason's hand, returning to his mouth with another kiss - longer, slower, eager.]
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what feels even better is the way his heartbeat skips the more tim talks to him. trust isn't something jason deserves. it's not something he's earned. not from tim. not yet. regardless, tim's grinding down against him, telling him how trusting him is good, he trusts him. the bottle in his hand is helpful, thank you, but jason takes another moment to just kiss him, enjoying the taste of tim.
another moan passes his lips, muffled by tim's mouth against his own but he's quick to try and hide that shit by uncapping the lube, moving his hands behind tim so he can put a decent amount of it onto the palm of his hand.
it's only then that he moves his hand back between them, fingers wrapping back around tim's cock to start stroking him once more. taking his time. he wants to make sure tim really feels it. )
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At the start of this, Tim expected a battle of sorts. He expected rough kisses, bites, bruises, and Jason's given him all of this, sure - but there's more. There's gentleness, care, concern. There's slow, exploratory kisses, kisses that linger, kisses that simply savor the contact, and Tim didn't expect any of that from Jason, but it feels, in a place beyond words, like undeniable confirmation that his instinct about Jason, his willingness to trust, is correct. Like there's so much more to Jason, underneath the gruff exterior and the smoldering anger and his seemingly-endless well of pain. Tim's suspected as much, and now, he feels like he knows it to be true.
Tim exhales a thin whine at the side of Jason's neck when he takes him in hand again. His hips buck forward; his fingertips rove over Jason's shoulders, against his neck, over the sides of his face, mapping out the shape of Jason, then come to rest buried in his hair. There's no disguising the awed note his tone takes when he finds his capacity for words once again.]
God, Jason, I could come just like this, you know that? But - mm, I meant what I said before. I want you to fuck me, I want to make you feel good, too - you feel - so good, Jason.
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but tim’s speaking, telling him he wants more and jason supposes there’s no reason to deny him; he’s sure tim’s got the stamina to go a round and keep going. he leans in a little more, presses a soft kiss to tim’s ear before speaking directly against it, tone low and full of lust: ) No need to rush, Tim. I’ve got you. ( it’s a promise, in more ways than one--even if jason has no intention of voicing them. his hand releases tim’s erection, still slick fingers sliding over his hip, his ass, pressing to his entrance as he turns his head just a bit more to dig his teeth into the shell of tim’s ear and bites down hard, teeth sliding down his ear to his lobe so jason can pull it onto his mouth, sucking on it as he pushes his index finger into tim.
he’s still taking his time slow and steady, but he’ll push a little further--sure. )
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Tim doesn't necessarily want to rush through this, he's just - enthusiastic. The idea that Jason Todd would ever want him enough to allow him in this far always felt like an impossibility to Tim, and now that Jason's proving that assumption to be incorrect with every kiss, every mark his mouth makes on Tim's skin, every trailing touch - Tim is positively ravenous for more, a flame burning faster by the second, consuming every bit of fuel added to it and turning it back around into heat.
Teeth close around his ear, and a moan tumbles off Tim's tongue; the sound redoubles in the next moment when Jason pushes inside of him, and if Tim had any space in his brain for awareness beyond the immediacy of touch, he'd be embarrassed at just how desperate he sounds. His back arches; his fingers wrap around Jason's shoulders; his lungs forget how to breathe for half a second.
Then he recovers, breathing hard to get back that lost oxygen, and one hand releases Jason's shoulder to slip down between them, searching downward, fingers wrapping lightly around him once they land on his length. Tim smiles against Jason's mouth, nips lightly at his bottom lip, quickly follows with a kiss.]
I've got you, too.
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teeth dig tight into the inside of his cheek when tim just stops breathing. he gives him a few moments to get control of himself, to take that deep breath in and gain some semblance of tim again and then he's fucking smiling again and jesus. all this is nice and all, touching him, feeling him, tasting tim--but he's pretty sure this'd be all just as pleasing if they'd just roll over so he could bury his face against his neck and take a few hours to breathe him in.
because that smile is going to be the second death of jason todd.
jason presses in close, kisses tim deep and hard, fucks his mouth with his tongue and moans against him as he pushes his digit in further, stretches him out slow. takes his time to really feel tim despite himself. he's got him right where he wants him, right where he never thought he'd have tim and get a few poor life decisions later, here he is: on tim's bed, tim in his lap and those nice, thin fingers wrapped around his cock.
at least if he dies now, it'd be a real nice fucking(ha) death. he'd have no regrets going out with tim moaning in his lap. )
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Tim's hand doesn't move much. He doesn't work Jason hard, just brushes his fingertips slowly back and forth to make sure Jason's ready. Mostly. Part of it's just to touch him, see what will keep drawing out those answering moans to Tim's. If he were able to think right now instead of simply feel, move, touch, Tim might consider what he's doing might be viewed as teasing.
But not right now. Right now, Tim's operating on instinct, and from the sounds Jason's making snd the way he's toughing Tim, he's guessing that Jason is fine with it, too.]
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jason is impatient. he’s been doing his best, really, he has—but this is pushing even his limits. he thrusts his digit in deep, pulls it back and pushes in a second finger. if tim’s uncomfortable, he’ll stop—he’ll swear he will; jason will slow down and take his time, but there’s absolutely no way he can resist trying to go a little faster when those noises are pouring down his throat, when tim’s fingers touch him just enough to get him aching but not enough to get him anywhere else.
his mouth pulls back to give him space to breathe, to take a few deep breaths and shift his head, tilt his face to dig his nose into tim’s hair, trying to burn every sense (the sight, the smell, the taste, his weight so close against him, the sounds tim makes--) into his head; this exact moment won’t last for forever, but jason sure as hell can do his best to burn it into the black under his eyelids, replace the nightmareish memories with something good for once. )
Tim. ( he calls out to him, voice low and gruff, fingers pressing in deep. ) Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.
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Don't - don't people usually say that I - I talk too much?
[It's not a real protest. If Jason wants to hear his voice, Tim's happy to provide. If it's verbal reassurance he's looking for, Tim's got it, ready to give. Sure, it means he has to stop kissing Jason, for the moment, but he can come back to that in a bit. Tim's free hand slides up the back of Jason's head, fingers slide through his hair, and Tim slowly pushes himself back against Jason's hand, encouraging his fingers in deeper, breath catching in his throat as he adjusts to the feeling of Jason inside of him, imagines what it will feel like moments from now when he's riding Jason instead.]
You're good, Jason, I'm - I'm good, just - God, Jason, don't stop. Please. [He inhales, quick, breathes out a soft moan against Jason's shoulder, presses his lips against Jason's skin, eager to have the taste of him in his mouth all over again.] I want you. I want you, you're - you're perfect. Don't stop.
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hips push back into his fingers and he takes that as a hint to push forward a little more--scissors them inside of tim, stretches him out as best he can with just his digits. he doesn't want to hurt him, but he's real close to running out of patience. so instead, he distracts himself by talking a little too much, too. )
I wish I could record the noises you're making, Tim. ( his voice is still low, murmured against the side of tim's head, into his hair. ) You sound amazing. The way your voice hitches when I move my fingers--the little whines you make. There's no way I could stop anymore, now that I know how hot and tight you are inside. You've got me, all of me. ( his head tilts, lips pressing against tim's ear in a gentle kiss before he's removing his fingers entirely, settles his hand on the curve of tim's ass instead. )
Show's all yours, boy wonder.
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You want to record me, Jason? Come better prepared next time.
[Next time. It's an invitation, sure, but it sounds like a dare, a challenge. Tim stays close, keeps his fingers wound in Jason's hair, but drops his teasing hold of Jason and slides his hand across the bed, feeling out for a condom.]
You don't need to record me, you know. You could keep hearing me sound like this - you could hear me sound like this whenever you want, Jason, just come over. My window's always open for you. You know I don't sleep.
[He works quickly while he talks, murmuring in Jason's ear while he tears the wrapper open and rolls the condom over Jason, slowly, teasing again, only this time it's deliberate. Tim grins under Jason's ear, pushes himself up on his knees, shifts, and starts to lower himself down onto Jason, moaning softly as he moves, taking his time to feel Jason inside of him. He takes another moment to catch his breath and lean back into Jason, arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, breath hot and close against his ear.]
I could be - mm, Jason, I could be yours. If you want me, I'll - I'll be yours.
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it feels good. that's what matters. )
That an invitation, Tim? To come over here whenever I want to touch you, just like this? Maybe next time I'll come find you when you're on a mission. Sneak down into that Robin's Nest of yours, take you on your work table. ( and he would, too. he'd push tim over, undo his pants, pull them down his thighs and thrust into him hard, push him over that edge again and again and again until work was the last thing on tim's mind. ) Maybe next time you're on patrol. Find a nice roof top--push you up against the brick wall, hands sliding rough against it. rip through the fabric over your ass, take you 'til you're screaming my name to the rest of Gotham--
( tim's sinking down onto him, the tightwetheat cutting jason off midthought. he's careful, still. bites down onto his lip, groans into tim's ear as he sinks down. he wants to move, wants to thrust up into him, but he needs to give tim a moment to adjust. last thing either of them want is this whole thing turning unpleasant. )
Did--did you think I'd go this far if I didn't want you? Jesus, Tim.
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Guess I know what else I need to - to start packing in my belt.
[Because he's always prepared for everything, isn't he, even for being surprised. Tim exhales a soft, low whine, slowly pushing himself down farther still, fingertips gripping Jason's shoulders to keep him steady, taking another moment to wait and feel and breathe.]
You better not be joking, Jason.
[He wants those words to roll off his tongue and sound light, playful - but they don't. They're serious, a betrayal of just how badly Tim wants what Jason describes - to be fucked on rooftops, taken on his work table, surprised in his own apartment by Jason turning up for no other reason than wanting Tim. Teeth close around his own lip as Tim takes in a deep breath and tries not to think about whether he sounds desperate to the point of pathetic, then he turns his head in toward Jason and presses his teeth around Jason's earlobe instead, whispering encouragement into his ear:]
Go on.
[He's ready.]
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the fantasy’s enough for the moment. it’s enough of a distraction. he wants and wants and wants and taking it all would be so easy, but jason--for all his snark, for the harsh words and the even more harsh way he shoves those around him, he’s not going to push tim over like a fucking animal the first time. he can be better than that. he wants to be.
jason’s always wanted to be better.
those words whispered into his ear leave him dizzy with permission, and jason’s certainly not wasting that. hands grip hard onto tim’s hips, fingers digging into flesh hard enough to bruise as he give a guttural, pleased sound and lifts tim’s hips, pulls him up, pauses for just a moment once he’s lifted him high enough that just the head of his erection’s still inside and leans in, presses lips to the underside of tim’s jaw. )
Brace your hands on my shoulders. ( he laughs, just barely audible. ) You’re so light. ( which. is the only warning tim’s getting before jason’s pulling him back down hard, hips thrusting up into him at the same time to bury himself in to the hilt. one second, two--shudder running through his spine as teeth dig into the inside of jason’s cheek and he’s lifting tim again, thrusting hips up as he pulls him back down. )
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It feels a little like falling, a little like hitting the ground so hard you lose your breath. Tim holds on to Jason's shoulders as instructed, fingers pressing in a little harder against his skin when he's pulled down, a whispered moan falling out of his mouth as he sees stars behind his eyelids and gasps for that air missing from his lungs. He's pulled down again, kissing a wordless mmm of approval at Jason's mouth as his nerve endings light up in pleasure-pain.]
Jason, [he breathes, rolling his hips back and then leaning up to push himself back down against Jason all over again.]
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