( 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.]
( what jason expects from tim isn’t for him to be red robin, for him to be strong, powerful, for him to be the genius that landed him the position at bruce’s side all that time ago. no, he expects tim to simply be tim—however he decides to be himself. whether it’s handing over control to jason, making snarky comments, telling jason off when he’s being a piece of shit—when he should know better but runs his mouth anyway. that’s all he’s ever wanted from tim drake since he got over the whole robin who replaced him business. after the few stabbings, the really unadvised assholery he’d pulled.
tim’s always forgive him. always offered him a place back at his side. lets jason hang around him even when jason’s done nothing but be a complete and total asshole to him. when he’s shown him nothing but his bad side, tim’s always trusted him to be something more. and that’s—that’s something he appreciates more than he could ever describe in words or actions. if tim wants to let go a little in jason’s arms, jason’s more than happy to oblige.
and those moans, the sighs and gasps, the way tim’s expression pinches up and how he moves makes the entire awkward start of this all worth it. tim says his name, and it’s near impossible for him to resist the urge to shove him back into the mattress and take him, push him down hard, roll his hips deep into tim and push until he’s screaming—but he doesn’t. jason wants this to last, wants to see and hear every noise. so he focuses on the kiss itself instead, hands keeping to tim’s hips but once he starts moving himself, jason’s letting up the pressure on his grip. letting tim moves as he wants to move, gives a low hum of approval when those hips start rocking down into his own and tries to find a steady pace along with him. )
You’d better—be ready to mix business with pleasure all the time. ( it’s gruff, murmured against tim’s neck before jason’s latching teeth onto flesh, biting and sucking at the skin there to leave a nice, red mark. the accent to his tone becomes more noticeable the more he speaks, dropping the thin attempts to hide it. ) ‘cause next time, I’m gonna come find you when you’re on patrol.
[If Tim's honest with himself (and he isn't always), that danger that surrounds Jason - the knowledge of what he's done in the past and what he's capable of doing again - is part of the attraction. Tim meant all the things he told Jason at the start, in the drawn-out space before that first kiss, but the most relevant part was when he called Jason a force of nature (a cyclone, a flash flood, an earthquake) - difficult to predict, capable of immense destruction, mercurial and harsh and often unforgiving, but honestly? Tim likes that about him, that he doesn't hold back, that he gives all. Danger followed his death in the line of duty as Robin, and danger followed his enraged return to life and Gotham and the boy he thought replaced him, but Tim could never replace Jason, not really. He could never fill his shoes, could never quite reach the bar Jason set. Tim's got talents of his own, sure, but if Tim's being honest, he's always thought of Jason as a little bit out of his league, a giant who's cast a shadow over him since the start.
Maybe that's why he never pursued Jason before now, why he hesitated to admit his feelings aloud, why he never dared to imagine what it might be like to have Jason here in his bed, to have Jason's hands and mouth on him, to wear bruises on his skin that Jason put there, not in anger but desire. If Tim had the space in his brain to form these kinds of thoughts, he'd probably laugh at himself for being such an idiot; he will, later, when this is over and Jason's gone and Tim's alone again, left to replay the events currently unfolding over and over in his mind, imagining how it will go next time.
Next time. They may be talking about it, but Tim's fully focused on this time - the hot, full feeling of Jason inside of him, the press of Jason's hands on him, the pinch of his teeth on his skin, the way Jason's voice slides into that rougher accent, the sound of his own voice shifting from surprised yelp to long, low, openmouthed moan, breathed out just underneath Jason's ear, the warmth of Jason's skin underneath his fingertips, curling around Jason's shoulders, holding on to him while Tim slowly unravels. He wants to be pulled apart and put back together, and Jason's doing such a damn good job of it right now.]
For you - I'll make an exception. I'll be ready, Jason. I'm always ready - for you.
[Words and sounds keep spilling over his tongue, a rush of syllables intercut with sharp, gasping breaths, keeping pace with the movement of his hips. Tim pushes himself up a little higher this time, uses the distance and momentum to pull himself back down into Jason with more force than before, mumbles God, Jason as his mouth searches to find Jason's in a fast, imprecise kiss and one hand slides up to tangle fingers in Jason's hair.]
( if there's one thing he doesn't have to worry about when it comes to this with tim, it's breaking him. tim may be smaller, but he's still built like a robin. he's all toned muscle and hardsoft edges, body worked to it's peak. it has to be, to keep up with all the shit bruce puts them through, to live through the kind of shit they face every goddamn day wearing the R. tim wasn't made for this bullshit, but he chose it anyway. he pushed and pushed to get to where he is, fought hard and long, trained not to make the same kind of mistakes that had jason's body lying in a casket six feet under.
being replaced stung like hell--but it wasn't on tim. not in the ways that really fucking matter. he's watched him for years, seen the shit he gets to. gets his dirty little fingers into. there is no reason to treat tim with careful gentleness; he can handle himself just fine. )
Just remember you asked for it.
( hands shift to press into tim's hips, lifting him up and off of jason just long enough to throw him back onto the mattress as he follows after him, fingers shifting down to a thigh to lift it up and prop it over his shoulder as jason drives back into him, hard and fast. if it's force tim wants, he's more than happy to oblige. jason's shit at holding back, anyway; and he's all force, all the time. this is different, sex has never been about beating down an opponent, about using raw power and fists to beat down assholes in his way.
fingers grip onto tim's thigh, dig in hard enough to leave bruises behind as his opposite forearm presses down into the mattress beside tim's head, using the leverage he has to thrust into him hard and deep with every snap of his hips, angling hips to drag the head of his cock against the walls inside tim, trying to find that bunch of nerves that'll set him off. using force like this is much, much different than a fight. he's not trying to overpower tim, shove his face into the dirt and show him jason todd isn't someone to fuck with. ha. he's doing the opposite: holding on tight, driving into him with intent, letting go and giving tim this part of him, too.
the unrestrained, impetuous, passion-driven piece of him. it's easy to shift down and press his mouth to tim's neck, gentleness of his lips a direct contrast to the rough snapping of his hips, pulling out for a moment before rolling back in twice as hard, pressing in as deep as he can.
pleased grunts and groans press against tim's skin, vibrating through the tendons he's licking and sucking over as he keeps moving, doesn't stop. )
[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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no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. )
no subject
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.]
no subject
tim’s always forgive him. always offered him a place back at his side. lets jason hang around him even when jason’s done nothing but be a complete and total asshole to him. when he’s shown him nothing but his bad side, tim’s always trusted him to be something more. and that’s—that’s something he appreciates more than he could ever describe in words or actions. if tim wants to let go a little in jason’s arms, jason’s more than happy to oblige.
and those moans, the sighs and gasps, the way tim’s expression pinches up and how he moves makes the entire awkward start of this all worth it. tim says his name, and it’s near impossible for him to resist the urge to shove him back into the mattress and take him, push him down hard, roll his hips deep into tim and push until he’s screaming—but he doesn’t. jason wants this to last, wants to see and hear every noise. so he focuses on the kiss itself instead, hands keeping to tim’s hips but once he starts moving himself, jason’s letting up the pressure on his grip. letting tim moves as he wants to move, gives a low hum of approval when those hips start rocking down into his own and tries to find a steady pace along with him. )
You’d better—be ready to mix business with pleasure all the time. ( it’s gruff, murmured against tim’s neck before jason’s latching teeth onto flesh, biting and sucking at the skin there to leave a nice, red mark. the accent to his tone becomes more noticeable the more he speaks, dropping the thin attempts to hide it. ) ‘cause next time, I’m gonna come find you when you’re on patrol.
no subject
[If Tim's honest with himself (and he isn't always), that danger that surrounds Jason - the knowledge of what he's done in the past and what he's capable of doing again - is part of the attraction. Tim meant all the things he told Jason at the start, in the drawn-out space before that first kiss, but the most relevant part was when he called Jason a force of nature (a cyclone, a flash flood, an earthquake) - difficult to predict, capable of immense destruction, mercurial and harsh and often unforgiving, but honestly? Tim likes that about him, that he doesn't hold back, that he gives all. Danger followed his death in the line of duty as Robin, and danger followed his enraged return to life and Gotham and the boy he thought replaced him, but Tim could never replace Jason, not really. He could never fill his shoes, could never quite reach the bar Jason set. Tim's got talents of his own, sure, but if Tim's being honest, he's always thought of Jason as a little bit out of his league, a giant who's cast a shadow over him since the start.
Maybe that's why he never pursued Jason before now, why he hesitated to admit his feelings aloud, why he never dared to imagine what it might be like to have Jason here in his bed, to have Jason's hands and mouth on him, to wear bruises on his skin that Jason put there, not in anger but desire. If Tim had the space in his brain to form these kinds of thoughts, he'd probably laugh at himself for being such an idiot; he will, later, when this is over and Jason's gone and Tim's alone again, left to replay the events currently unfolding over and over in his mind, imagining how it will go next time.
Next time. They may be talking about it, but Tim's fully focused on this time - the hot, full feeling of Jason inside of him, the press of Jason's hands on him, the pinch of his teeth on his skin, the way Jason's voice slides into that rougher accent, the sound of his own voice shifting from surprised yelp to long, low, openmouthed moan, breathed out just underneath Jason's ear, the warmth of Jason's skin underneath his fingertips, curling around Jason's shoulders, holding on to him while Tim slowly unravels. He wants to be pulled apart and put back together, and Jason's doing such a damn good job of it right now.]
For you - I'll make an exception. I'll be ready, Jason. I'm always ready - for you.
[Words and sounds keep spilling over his tongue, a rush of syllables intercut with sharp, gasping breaths, keeping pace with the movement of his hips. Tim pushes himself up a little higher this time, uses the distance and momentum to pull himself back down into Jason with more force than before, mumbles God, Jason as his mouth searches to find Jason's in a fast, imprecise kiss and one hand slides up to tangle fingers in Jason's hair.]
Go on. You're not gonna break me.
no subject
being replaced stung like hell--but it wasn't on tim. not in the ways that really fucking matter. he's watched him for years, seen the shit he gets to. gets his dirty little fingers into. there is no reason to treat tim with careful gentleness; he can handle himself just fine. )
Just remember you asked for it.
( hands shift to press into tim's hips, lifting him up and off of jason just long enough to throw him back onto the mattress as he follows after him, fingers shifting down to a thigh to lift it up and prop it over his shoulder as jason drives back into him, hard and fast. if it's force tim wants, he's more than happy to oblige. jason's shit at holding back, anyway; and he's all force, all the time. this is different, sex has never been about beating down an opponent, about using raw power and fists to beat down assholes in his way.
fingers grip onto tim's thigh, dig in hard enough to leave bruises behind as his opposite forearm presses down into the mattress beside tim's head, using the leverage he has to thrust into him hard and deep with every snap of his hips, angling hips to drag the head of his cock against the walls inside tim, trying to find that bunch of nerves that'll set him off. using force like this is much, much different than a fight. he's not trying to overpower tim, shove his face into the dirt and show him jason todd isn't someone to fuck with. ha. he's doing the opposite: holding on tight, driving into him with intent, letting go and giving tim this part of him, too.
the unrestrained, impetuous, passion-driven piece of him. it's easy to shift down and press his mouth to tim's neck, gentleness of his lips a direct contrast to the rough snapping of his hips, pulling out for a moment before rolling back in twice as hard, pressing in as deep as he can.
pleased grunts and groans press against tim's skin, vibrating through the tendons he's licking and sucking over as he keeps moving, doesn't stop. )
no subject
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.]