A/N - Lemons ahead. Enjoy at your own risk! TW - gore kink (mostly fantasized about - see end notes for specifics).
Tim is not adopted by Bruce in this fic. Everyone is over 21. FYI, the legal drinking age in America is 21 - there's a brief reference in the fic that might confuse international readers if you didn't know that.
A lovely reader suggested this prompt based on my JaySteph fic "Playing Pretend" - they were hoping for a similar story but with JayTim, where Tim is a femboy twink power bottom. (Which yes, they are well aware is the least popular interpretation of Tim out there, but happens to be their fave. And I am nothing if not a rarepair writer. The concept activated my muse, so, here we are. Enjoy or at the very least, don't leave hate comments about it XD)
Trick or Treat?
Jason had to hand it to Dick - his brother knew how to throw a party. Nobody did Halloween like the gays, it was true, but mix gay with Dick Grayson and, well, you got an entire haunted mansion movie set dropped into an otherwise ordinary street in Bludhaven.
Dick Grayson's Bludhaven Halloween parties were legendary and had people eating out of his hand all year, hoping for an invite. He got around noise complaints by inviting all of his neighbors within a three-block radius, which gave them not only the smug satisfaction of being Dick's only guaranteed annual guests, but also a ticket to the best party of the year. Anyone of a reasonable party age (and even some a little past prime) showed up in full costume, and all the old people and families with small kids got sent to DisneyWorld for a full week on Bruce's billionaire black card.
("Well of course I don't use Bruce's card for normal things," Dick had explained to Jason in a shocked voice when he'd once inquired why his big brother had such a shit car when Bruce was clearly more than happy for him to spend his money on whatever the hell he wanted. "Halloween is special.")
Yeah, it was.
Jason surrendered his embossed, black-light watermarked invitation to one of the off-duty cops at the perimeter gate who Dick always hired to work security, which pretty much meant trading glow-in-the-dark wristbands for invites and keeping kids and assorted interlopers from sneaking over the perimeter fence.
Other than that, the cops got to eat to their heart's content courtesy of their dedicated waitstaff, and in the morning they got to take home all the leftover alcohol, which had resulted in the annual Bludhaven All Saint's Day All Blue Boozefest. (The extra food went to the fire department, who were not only less likely to harass Dick's party in the first place, but more likely to be needed sober and alert - especially when the drunk cops' party got out of hand, which it inevitably did, because they were idiot assholes.)
No one ever started fights at Dick's parties. First of all, because he controlled the guest list with more savvy and social manipulation than Louis XIV holding court in Versailles, but also because he'd made it clear that a lifetime ban would be imposed on any troublemakers. No insult or offense was worth the sacrifice of the best party a lowly guest could ever hope to be invited to for the rest of their humble lives. Everyone in attendance was damn grateful to be there and hoped they'd be invited back. Dick made sure of it.
Jason wove his way through the battery-operated candlelit Jack o'lanterns twinkling on the lawn, interspersed between scantily clad dancing couples draped in glow necklaces, too buzzed to be cold. Orange twinkle lights and toilet paper wrapped the bare branches of ghostly trees where, this morning, only stubbly dead grass had covered Dick's run-down lot. Misty fog floated in and out of the gyrating crowds, powered by a bevy of dry ice machines hidden inside scattered tombstones.
Hordes of food were heaped upon antique looking octagonal tables set throughout the yard - candy and cupcakes and pigs in a blanket (that the placard insisted were mummified fingers) and chicken and waffles all were being freshly topped off by vampiric waiters as quickly as they were devoured. Of course Dick had not one, but two fully stocked bars set up, because he was Dick, and vampiric waiters were circling with glasses full of red wine and Bloody Marys and whatever red fruity shot Dick had deemed his signature drink of the night.
The live band made up of Universal Movie Monsters was rocking out on the house porch, the drummer's mummy bandages flapping in the breeze as she played, while the Bride of Frankenstein wailed into the microphone. They were just going into "Toxic" when Jason saw him.
A lithe little dark-haired dancer in the crowd screamed and jumped up and down at the song choice, throwing his hand up in the air. His tiny black schoolgirl skirt flew up to tease Jason with the briefest glimpse of beautifully juicy, bare ass cheeks framed by a green glitter thong. When he turned around to start dancing with his soft, kissable belly on full display under his tied-off red shirt, Jason couldn't hold back a small groan.
Because the twink wasn't only a Britney fan - under his shirt, he had gold bondage straps criss-crossed over his smooth, flat chest and secured in the middle with a homemade Robin symbol. Well, holy yum, Batman. If this wasn't the tastiest Red Robin that Jason had ever laid eyes on, from his Party City black domino mask to his sexy black knee high socks to his sparkly black sequined Mary Janes.
BritneyRobin's slightly curvy hips, not even padded but naturally sleek, with a dancer's subtle, alluring strength instead of a gymnast's ripped physique, made Jason hungry to dig his fingers in deep while he bounced him on his cock like a toy, light and fuckable. His beautiful boy was supple, moldable - fit, sure, but not super-obviously so.
Not in an obnoxiously muscled way like Dick was under the Nightwing suit, which fit so tightly around rock hard muscles that a motivated man could trace around each ab with his tongue (and if Jason never accidentally came across Roy doing that to Dick ever again, he'd die a happy man the second time around. That shit had been almost as traumatic as a crowbar.)
But this BritneyRobin was a tiny little treasure, one who would look so dainty next to Jason's mass. One who would break apart into such a lovely mess when Jason punished him on his massive cock, which was already tightening in his leather pants.
God, Jason couldn't wait to make his move, but Red Robin was surrounded by an entourage, because of course he was. He was Britney, bitch. Men of every shape and size were dancing in a circle around their queen, fighting for his attention.
Jason's Red Robin looked downright devious when he pulled one sexy pirate in closer, inviting him to roll sensual hips against his crotch while he twisted up his ragged Jolly Roger vest in clenched fingers and let his mouth fall softly open in a moan - but he didn't lose his rhythm while he ground his schoolgirl ass into the bedazzled unicorn thrusting behind him.
Yeah. Jason should probably give up and go find someone else to seduce. Because no way in hell was he getting within twenty feet of his dream boy tonight, especially with his own shitty ass, not even-the-slightest-bit-revealing costume. Based on Red Robin's eager harem, barely-there seemed to be his fauxReplacement's preferred partner attire.
Well, it wasn't like there weren't plenty of people at the party who wouldn't enjoy the more wrapped up mystique of Jason's beefy muscles straining through his too-tight long-sleeved tee and painted-on pants, so he bit back a sigh and stole one last, lustful look at his dancing pixie stick.
Fucking shame. But, what could he do? He was -
"Red Hood!" An excited squeal burst out of BritneyRobin's throat and he was - hello - shaking off his hotly competing dirty dancers and shoving his way through the circle of frothing wolves and - what the fuck - hell yeah - sliding sexy hands up Jason's broad, marshmallow pecs. Jason felt the heat of his palms through his lightweight, storebought Red Hood tee, and then both of those sweet little hands were reaching wayyy up to cup his stubbly jaw. Robin's head only came to the middle of Jason's chest and fuuuuck, that was hot.
But hotter still, BritneyRobin was tugging Jason's own Party-City-domino covered face down, down, down to his wet little mouth, and pressing a filthy, raunchy kiss inside, full of fruity flavored tongue with hints of chocolate frosting.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," Red Robin breathed up into Red Hood's amused but damn appreciative face.
"Oh yeah?" Red Hood-for-Halloween asked, sliding big, rough hands around BritneyRobin's tiny bare waist, gripping him tight and pulling him into a dance. Fuck, his cock didn't even hit his boy's crotch, he was so tall in comparison, but it landed somewhere near the top of Britney's belly. Robin's breathy moan seemed to indicate that this wasn't a problem.
Wasn't a problem for Jason, either. Good God.
"I have, like, the biggest crush on you," Red Robin giggled through bubble-gum pink lips that Jason wanted to chew up and spit out, completely used.
"Is that right?" Red Hood drawled, letting go of Robin's hips and wrapping his arms around his waist instead, just so he could thrill in how tiny his boy was against him. He fit against his forearm, nestled right in between the crook of his elbow and his wrist, and going by the little shiver he gave when Jason drew him in closer, Red Robin liked their size difference just as much as Jason did.
"It's so hot how you take care of the bad guys," BritneyRobin purred up at him, fluttering long false eyelashes behind his flimsy domino.
"How I kill them, you mean?" Jason growled, dark and dangerous, and - holy damn. Red Robin's breath legit hitched. What. The. Hell.
He was trembling against Jason's bulk like he might come right there, just from the idea of Jason's murdering ways - and fuck if that didn't make Jason harder, too. Red Robin gave a panting little moan when Jason's cock dug deeper into his stomach, and then Jason had to groan, too, at the vibrations against his throbbing cock.
"Fuck, baby," Jason muttered. "I was already a Britney fan," he smirked, looking down at his boy, "but God damn, Princess," he said. "You know how to flatter a man."
"I know how to do a lot more than that," BritneyRobin smirked right back, that pink, pink lipstick begging to be smeared all over Jason's cock. "Come on," he said, tugging on Jason's hand and leading him through the crowds.
Jason tossed a wink at the sulking, jealous wanna-be's looking bitterly after them as Red Robin led him through the yard full of dancing singles and couples and thrupples, around the bar, and out to the backyard where a giant pseudo-corn maze had been erected, which was far less a maze than a bevy of deliberately secluded, semi-private spots for people to fuck.
Because Dick very sensibly locked his house up tighter than the BatCave during his parties, but hey, he made sure that all needs could be met. He'd even thoughtfully put the coffinesque port-a-potties up by the front gate so people wouldn't be traipsing through the horny corn to get to them.
Moans and grunts that were definitely not from ghosts and ghouls could be heard coming from among the corn stalks as BritneyRobin wove them through the field, dodging a few in flagrante couples before settling on a nicely out of the way corner tucked behind a wall of head-high cornstalks. (Well, Jason's head. The corn had a good foot on Robin at least.) A bale of hay was helpfully set up as a seat, next to a trick-or-treat bucket full of lube packets and condoms and a carved out pumpkin trash can.
Dick really was good at details.
"So you get off on me being a killer, huh?" Jason smirked down at his little bird before stumbling in shock when Red Robin shoved him down onto the bale of hay with a surprisingly quick feint.
"God, yes," Robin moaned, already down on his knees, his hands going for Jason's pants. He casually elbowed his way in between Jason's thighs, forcing them wider apart to give him better access. And a better view, Jason suspected, leaning back slightly and arching his back a little bit to show off.
He'd been fully expecting to do all the work in this encounter, but apparently Red Robin had other ideas - not that Jason minded. Plus his fake replacement was into Red Hood? Into him in a slightly unhinged stalker way, maybe, sure, but damn, it was still hot as fuck. Jason had a fanboy - who was about to suck his dick. Holy shit.
"Batman doesn't let me kill people," BritneyRobin pouted while he unzipped Jason's tight pants. "And when you kill people, and I can't, it makes me feel all twisted up and squirmy inside," Robin rambled while he pulled Jason's already hard cock out. Fuck, was Robin ever into roleplay. Well, two could play at that game - even if one of them wasn't actually playing.
"Yeah, baby?" Jason purred, tangling his hands up in Robin's messy black hair. "I had no idea I made you feel so good."
"So bad," Red Robin corrected. "But good," he amended. "But awful. It makes me want to shove you down and fuck the life out of you," he growled in a cute little baby tiger roar.
"Death by sex sounds like a hell of a way to go," Jason said philosophically, crossing his ankles to lock them around Robin's adorably bouncy butt.
"You think I'm joking," BabyRobin pouted, sliding his hands over Jason's massive thighs. "But I get so jealous," he sulked. "And angry at you. Because I always have to be good, you know? Red Robin is the good guy," his boy said in a mocking voice laced with a damn good impression of bitterness. Shit, this kid was really into his scenes. Jason loved it.
"Who says you have to be the good guy, sweetheart?" Jason cooed down at him. "Don't you know I've been waiting all this time for you to replace the giant stick up your ass with my cock?" Robin's breath hitched again and his eyes went wide. "Yeah, that's right, baby," Jason rumbled, petting his hands over Robin's slack cheeks. "I want to fuck you up so good, make you a bad boy just like me."
Red Robin's eyes narrowed.
"No one fucks me up," he said authoritatively, his voice dropping to a lower, self-assured register that made shivers run down Jason's spine. Well, he wouldn't be Red Hood if he didn't push the button that his little trick-or-treat had just exposed, would he?
"I'm Red Hood," Jason growled in a voice so lethal that a whimper shot out of Robin's mouth. "I do the fucking up, Princess. And I am going to wreck your pretty little ass."
Jason yelped when Red Robin yanked him off the hay bale and slammed his back to the ground. Damn. He was … not expecting that. Which was the only reason why his little Princess had been able to throw him around. Obviously. Of course. And - hot damn, the kid was getting ready to sixty-nine him, crawling down his stomach with his greedy mouth towards his cock and shoving his luscious Britney ass into Jason's face.
Or, well, towards Jason's face. Baby boy was so short that his ass only made it up to Jason's tiddies. Heh.
"Put these abs to good use," Red Robin snapped over his shoulder. "You better eat the hell out of my ass while I'm going down on you."
"Yes, Sir," Jason breathed out in awed delight.
"I'm waiting," Robin said impatiently.
"Fuck," Jason whispered in amused wonder. With not even a grunt, he crunched his abs up and grabbed his baby's butt cheeks, burying his face deep in the pillow of plushy goodness and nosing around his green thong.
BritneyRobin was actually being slightly helpful; he was keeping his ass up high enough to meet Jason's elevated mouth instead of resting it on his chest, and Jason was going to reward that good behavior, no matter how bossy the kid was. Everybody needed positive reinforcement.
With a growl, Jason dove in, licking long, fast stripes over and around the thong strap, wiggling his tongue in underneath the edges and then whisking it away, before turning his mouth to gnaw on delicious ass cheeks.
"That's a good start," Red Robin huffed, but his voice sounded strained. Jason snaked his fingers under the thin thong and pulled it to the side, spreading Robin's cheeks wider so he could delve right into his hole with his tongue.
And - oh. There it was. A muffled whimper escaped Robin's throat. A whimper that was quickly masked by a hot, wet, perfectly snug little mouth suddenly sliding down Jason's length, all the way down in one go - which was a damned impressive feat, given the relative size of Jason's cock to his boy's sassy mouth.
Jason let out a loud, low groan - hey, he wasn't ashamed to make noise - and flicked tiny, appreciative little laps all over the edges of Robin's hole. And damn, Robin's whole ass shook and quivered in his face, but then an equally skilled tongue was teasing Jason's cock, licking beautiful swirling ribbons around and around, even with Jason's tip lodged all the way back past his tonsils.
Britney had to be a damn meta. Jason was going to keep him forever. Good God.
He tried to match the swirling of his boy's tongue with his own by plunging it deep inside his hole and making it a narrow, firm corkscrew, turning and twisting his way up and down Robin's insides - and oh, fakeRobin liked that move. He started moaning around Jason's cock, the vibrations making Jason leak precum which his boy eagerly swallowed right down.
Fuck, this was good. Insanely good. Jason's abs were feeling a slight burn, but it was worth it. So fucking worth it. He began petting Robin's asshole with soft, wet, sensual strokes of his tongue, and the kid whimpered and spasmed for an instant before suddenly sliding his mouth all the way off Jason's cock with a wet pop.
Just as the cool night air hit Jason's wet dick, Robin shoved his hot mouth right back down it, using a lot of tongue as he went, and then -
The ragged moans were coming from him, Jason belatedly realized, feeling the vibrations against BritneyRobin's ass while he slurped and bit and ate him out in a mindless frenzy, because he was losing his mind - losing his goddamn mind, because Robin was deepthroating him so hard and fast and wet, like the warmest, tightest sleeve of pleasure that Jason had ever felt.
His fingers had to be leaving bruises in his boy's ass because he was squeezing so hard, hanging on for dear life, as Red Robin manipulated him towards ecstasy with a deliberate but well-practiced ease. Jason's hips bucked up into fakeRobin's mouth, and he was gonna come, he was gonna see God, he was gonna -
Wail in frustration when Robin yanked his mouth off and squeezed the base of Jason's cock so tight that his impending orgasm cowered in fear.
"What the hell - fuck -" Jason whimpered pathetically, pushing at his boy's ass to try to force his mouth back down.
"Who's wrecked now?" Red Robin smirked, turning himself around to face Jason and sitting on his abs instead of his throbbing cock - even though Jason stretched his hips hopefully towards his boy's ass.
"Tell me we're not finished," Jason begged, like the miserable little bitch that he now was.
"Finished?" Red Robin said, like he was raising a super amused eyebrow behind his cheap domino. "I'm gonna ride this monster until you come so hard you pass out."
"Thank you," Jason moaned helplessly. "Thank you, thank you -"
"Be right back," Robin said, hopping off him. "Don't go anywhere," he said cheekily, as if Jason could do anything except lie there like a limp noodle with one very stiff, uncooked bundle of spaghetti sticking straight up from his midsection.
He'd barely remoistened his lips before the kid was plunking himself down on his stomach again, minus the thong now, and dropping a handful of lube packets and condoms next to him on the grass.
"Finger," Robin ordered, grabbing for Jason's hand. Jason tried to give him his middle finger - not to be a dick, but he knew from experience that bottoms usually liked the deep push of his longest finger first, but Robin was lubing up his index finger, instead.
"How many people have you killed with this finger?" Robin demanded, raising himself up and positioning Jason's hand under him.
"I don't know," Jason said in surprise, still half dazed.
"Guess," Robin ordered.
"Like - maybe a hundred fifty, two hundred," Jason stuttered out, honestly not sure and drawn out of his sexy headspace a little bit by the question.
"All those deaths," Robin said with deep satisfaction as he rubbed his outer asshole on the tip of Jason's finger, holding his own butt cheeks wide open while Jason lazily watched, just barely doing his part by keeping his finger stiff. "Caused by one little trigger finger."
"It's a pretty big finger, to be fair," Jason said. "Bigger than yours, Princess," he pointed out.
"It sure as hell is," Robin hissed as he slid down on it, all the way down to the knuckle. Jason moaned. That tight, wet heat - Robin's sweet velvet walls - if he felt this good on his finger, he couldn't even imagine what Robin was gonna feel like around his cock. "Mm, baby," Robin purred out, deep and throaty. "Look at you pushing all the violence up inside of me, making me all dirty and bad. Fuck, you feel so good," he moaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back a little bit while he ground down on Jason's finger.
"So do you," Jason croaked back, awed at the performance that his slutty little Robin was putting on, sitting on top of him - his cute little red shirt revealing every ripple and heave of his curvy, soft stomach, his tight bondage straps straining with every deep breath and little gasp that came out of him, his innocent black skirt hiding all impropriety underneath its pleats.
And his boy was so tiny - he was like a little plastic cake topper on top of Jason's bulky mass - his little baby birdie, riding him so sweet and pretty, making the softest little chirps of pleasure while he fucked himself open on Jason's finger.
"You look so good up there, babe," Jason said in a husky voice.
"You look so good under me," Robin smirked, letting go of his ass cheeks so he could plant his hands on Jason's cushy chest while he kept twisting and grinding away on his finger. "The ferocious Red Hood, slayed by Red Robin," his boy grinned with a razor smile.
"Yeah, I am," Jason mumbled peacefully, unable to keep his thoughts from drifting to what it would be like if it was actually Tim above him, dominating him like a little power bottom.
The idea was laughable, because the real Red Robin walked around like he had a perpetual stick twice as big as Jason's cock up his ass, like he never had fun a day in his life. Always serious. Always irritatingly, annoyingly perfect.
Every i dotted and every t crossed. One hundred percent focused on the mission, whether it was for the Bats or Wayne Enterprises. And judgey as hell towards anyone who lacked his completely unnecessary, anal, overdone laser-focus and boring ass, dour attitude.
The twenty-one year old interloper had gotten himself legally emancipated at age fifteen when his dad had died. He'd then calmly taken the reins of Drake Industries and somehow managed to convince his board to approve a merger with Wayne Enterprises within a year. And then, after a yearlong mentorship with the retiring Lucius Fox, the seventeen year old asswipe had been named the CEO of Wayne E.
Youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 Company in history, obliterating Lex Luthor's record, which of course pissed the super-villionaire off to no end. It was a damn shame that Lex hadn't taken revenge on Jason's replacement Robin yet for that slight, although Jason supposed that he probably tried to in the boardroom where it was legal.
And it was bad enough that the not-even-a-Wayne kid was the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, but of course that wasn't his worst offense towards Jason Todd. Little Tim Drake had taken away Robin, too. Stolen Jason's place in the Bats while Robin Two was dead and gone, and to add insult to injury, the little shit had diverted all of Bruce's approval onto himself. Tim Drake had molded himself into the perfect replacement, a pseudo-son to Bruce who was everything that Dick and Jason weren't.
Interested in business. A worshipful disciple. Meticulous, slow, rational, unemotional. A little mini-Bruce, but without the layers of dysfunction that Jason's adopted father was mired in. An unflappable, stonefaced executive.
Yeah. How funny would it be if that tiny, tightly wound ball of superiority was actually kinky as fuck? If it was all a mask like Brucie was to Bruce, if Tiny Tim secretly showed off his midriff at Halloween parties as BritneyRobin and fucked himself on Red Hood's fingers, getting off to his kill count?
Oh, that would be utterly delightful.
Wouldn't hurt to pretend.
"What's Batman gonna think about you riding my trigger finger, huh, baby?" Jason demanded. Robin's breath stuttered in his throat. "He's gonna be soooo disappointed in you," Jason teased, with a slightly honest note of mockery in his voice that wasn't for the beauty on top of him. "No Killing, Red Robin," Jason scolded. "And no getting off on any instruments of death."
"Holy shit," Robin breathed out, his breathing gone heavy and ragged. "Second finger. Now," he ordered, scrambling for more lube and fishing underneath his skirt to slick Jason up. "Ohh," he moaned out when he pushed himself down again on the wider stretch.
"Oh, you're in trouble, now," Jason warned with gleeful malice in his voice. "One finger, we could pretend it never happened. But two fingers?" He clucked in the back of his throat. "Naughty, naughty Red Robin. You're ruining your perfect track record."
"Perfection is overrated," Robin gritted out through a tightly clenched jaw, swallowing down whimpers as he rose and fell on Jason's fingers.
"Perfection is overrated?" Jason said in mock horror. "That doesn't sound like something Red Robin would say, Princess."
"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think," Robin huffed out, his asshole gripping Jason's fingers so tight and exquisite as he twisted and writhed on them.
"Maybe I'd like to get to know him better," Jason said, "if he's secretly a kinky little shit."
"God, yes," Robin groaned, biting his lip and flushing. "You know how often I fantasize about you, Hood?" he said in a shaky, trembling voice while he kept working himself further open. And oh, if that admission didn't go straight to Jason's cock. His baby boy got off to him? The real him? Red Hood him!
"Tell me, baby," Jason begged, letting his voice go low and husky. "How does Red Hood help get his pretty boy off? What do I do to you?" Robin whimpered and bit his lip.
"I imagine you coming home from a kill, blood all over your gloves."
"I don't get blood on my gloves," Jason interrupted, just to be an ass. "I use a gun. Shoot from a distance. BAM! My gloves stay pristine," he said.
"But you'd get blood on them for me, wouldn't you, Red Hood?" Red Robin purred, bending lower and grinding his ass down even harder. "You'd go dip your fingers all in those bullet wounds, wouldn't you? Get them coated up so slick and hot with blood, come home and smear it all inside my hole."
"Holy fuck," Jason whispered, his eyes going wide and his cock straining fruitlessly for contact.
"You'd paint me so good, wouldn't you?" Robin crooned with a wolfish smile. "Mark me up like one of your victims."
"Pretty sure I'm the victim," Jason wheezed in disbelief as his belly clenched with need and his breathing got short and shallow. FakeRobin reached under himself and smeared some more lube haphazardly over Jason's hand, nodding at him to push a third finger inside. And if Jason's fingers were shaking a little bit, well, Robin wasn't complaining.
"Can you just imagine if that was blood, blood you spilled, squelching inside of me?" Robin whispered, all breathless and low so Jason could hear the absolutely filthy sounds coming out of his ass. "Lives you've taken, victims you've shoved up into my ass -"
A massive hand flew onto Robin's waist with a smack and gripped it so hard that he jerked into stillness.
"You will Shut. Up," Jason ordered tautly, "right now, or I will fucking come all over your ass instead of inside it. Is that what you want, baby bird?" He demanded when Robin gaped down at him, speechless with awed delight. "You want me to shoot my load all over that sexy ass? Or you want me to come inside you? Keep talking. Find out what happens."
"Inside," Robin said breathlessly a second later when he could find his voice. "Inside, inside," he whimpered like a needy little kitten.
Yeah. That's right.
Who was the bitch now?
Well.
Considering Jason was half a second away from coming, he decided not to answer his own question.
"You ready or you need a fourth finger?" Jason said, grinding his jaw and willing himself not to come. Unsexy thoughts, unsexy thoughts - Batman. Alfred. Roy licking Nightwing's abs - ew, too far. He wanted to delay his orgasm, not totally kill his boner, but at least he had breathing room now.
"I think I need a fourth," Robin said in a small voice. "If you can last. You're really big…" he trailed off.
"You can have a fourth finger, baby," Jason said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Just - keep your damn mouth shut."
Red Robin meekly nodded and mimed zipping his mouth and tossing away the key before raising himself and lubing up Jason's fingers. He couldn't stop his breathy moan of pleasure, though, when he worked his way down onto Jason's folded up fingers and felt the stretch.
"That's it, baby," Jason softly rasped. "Nice and slow. Don't want you to hurt yourself on me, ok? Bet your little ass has never taken such a big cock before, huh?" Robin mutely shook his head no while his eyes stayed blissfully shut, his long fake lashes fluttering delicately against the edges of his black plastic domino mask.
"Yeah, it's gonna feel so good inside you, isn't it?" Jason crooned. "Gonna be just what Red Robin's tight ass needs," he teased. Robin let out a tiny giggle that dissolved into breathy gasps when he buried himself deeper on Jason's fingers.
"I wish -" Red Robin started to mumble.
"Uh Uh Uh-" Jason scolded. "No talking. Silence, little bird," he commanded. The soft, hazy smile with sleepy opened eyes that FakeRobin gave him was almost as bad as the filthy fantasies that came out of his mouth, though, wasn't it? Jason's cock was protesting sharply at the unfairness of it all.
But he'd get his satisfaction soon. Baby bird was almost ready, gliding up and down easily now, pumping his thighs and slamming down harder and harder with each thrust.
Jason let his mind drift a little bit, watching him. Wondering what it would be like if Tim had a thing for him instead of looking at him like he was a roach that crawled out of a vent in an apartment that shouldn't even have been left standing. What it would be like if Tim was the one wrecking him, hungry for Jason's thighs, his cock, his mouth.
What it would be like to slip into that pristine penthouse in Wayne Tower through the glass-walled balcony, to stink up the bougie vanilla and lavender scented air freshener with gunpowder and cigarette smoke, to traipse dirt and blood onto white carpets, to demolish a perfectly made bed for one?
"'M ready," Red Robin said, rousing Jason from his reverie. He grabbed a condom and scooted back onto Jason's thighs so he could roll it on. "You know what I'd like to do to your thighs sometime?" Robin said dreamily.
"Is my cock in your ass yet?" Red Hood snarked. "No? Then shut the fuck up."
"Mmkay," Robin giggled. "But I'm gonna tell you after," he warned.
"Gimme your number after and you can do it to me after," Jason said. "Another time."
"Shit. Really?" Robin said, his face lighting up.
"Fuck, yeah," Jason grunted, grouching a little bit when Robin pulled him up to a sitting position. "You're kind of a good lay, babe. In case you hadn't noticed," he quipped.
"Fuck," Robin giggled. "I mean, you are, too. Obviously."
"Obviously," Jason smirked in agreement, reaching up to steady Robin's hips as he began to lower himself into Jason's lap. "So we'll do this again, yeah?"
"Yeah," Red Robin nodded, smiling a little bit shyly into Jason's face. Which was, huh. Cute as fuck.
Maybe the kid was a real love'em and leave'em type. The way he liked to be in control, Jason wouldn't be surprised. He probably got bored pretty quick.
He definitely wasn't bored now, though, slowly working the lubed up tip of Jason's cock against his slick asshole, pushing him in and out in an absolutely torturous way, but he actually wasn't trying to be a tease. Jason was fucking big and while he didn't bottom for other people, he'd played with enough toys in his ass to know that getting past the first ring of muscle was a real bitch, no matter how stretched out you were.
"Take your time, baby," Jason mumbled, squeezing reassuring hands on Robin's waist. "You're doing real good."
"Gonna feel so amazing," Robin panted, screwing his face up when he pushed a little deeper, only to retreat again.
"Yeah it is," Jason soothed. "Can't wait to feel your tight little hole sucking me in, baby," he said, turning his head to brush a kiss over the hand that his boy had planted on his shoulder. "Gonna feel like heaven, make me think I'm an angel instead of a devil."
"I like you a devil," Robin protested before taking a deep breath and letting it all out, and pushing Jason all the way inside at the very last moment. "Fuck," Robin cried out as he slid down Jason's cock and bottomed out, wrapping his arms around Jason's neck and burying his face against his chest. "Fuck, fuck," he whimpered, nestling closer when Jason cuddled him tight, absolutely dwarfing Robin's tiny frame with his arms while his hips shook with the mind numbing heat and pleasure of his boy's tight asshole snugly sheathing him.
Little FakeRobin was wrapped around him like a baby octopus, all sweet and precious and small, and he was shuddering under the shaky hands that Jason rubbed through his hair, over his back, in-between his shoulder blades.
"You ok, baby bird?" Jason asked breathlessly, nuzzling his face into his boy's ear, which he liked, going by the little coo that he tried to hide.
"Yeah," Robin said, staying slumped against Jason's chest but lifting his face up to look at him. "It's ok now, I just need a minute. Getting it in - that was - wow."
"Reeling from the aftershock?" Jason grinned sympathetically and Robin sheepishly nodded.
"Feels so good, buried so deep inside me, though," Robin mumbled, his cheeks already stained a beautiful pink. "I don't think I'm gonna last long."
"You and me, both," Jason laughed. "S'ok, sweetheart. Just means we need to practice a lot with each other. To build up our stamina."
"You mean build up our tolerance to earth shattering bliss?" Robin grinned weakly. "Teach ourselves to numb our bodies to the best sex on the planet so we can have the best orgasms on the planet?"
"Hey, off the planet, too!" Jason pouted.
"Absolutely," Robin immediately swore. "Repeat practice sounds pretty good," he murmured more quietly.
"Good," Jason whispered back, leaning down into a kiss that turned out to be soft and slow and sweet.
"I'm ready to rock your world now," Robin announced when the look in his eyes afterwards was apparently a little too intense for him to bear.
"Pretty sure you already did that," Jason grinned. "But go ahead, baby bird. Show me what you got."
"Ok, Red Hood," Red Robin smirked up at him. "I will."
Aw yeah. Getting called by his rightful name during sex with the hottest fake birdie ever? God damn this was gonna be good.
Robin shifted slightly to balance himself more securely in an optimal fucking position on Jason's lap, and then he pushed down hard on Jason's big shoulders, lifting himself up with his freaking little twiggy arms like Jason was a goddamn pommel horse. What the hell - but Oh FUCK, Robin was slamming back down on his cock and holy shit, Jason's eyes almost whited out just from the first thrust.
His bird was so small, squeezing him in the perfect tight grip, just stretchy enough to slide over Jason's cock without resistance (or pain to his ass, apparently, thank God) but so snugly slick that Jason was gonna embarrass himself.
He wouldn't be the only one, though, because Robin had howled when he landed hard on his prostate, and then immediately rebounded, pumping his legs around Jason's waist and getting enough momentum with his thighs to push himself almost all the way back up, only to slam his prostate back into Jason's cock and do it all over again, making Jason dizzy with how good it all felt.
His boy was stronger than he looked. Holy fuck. And he'd found a rhythm, too, bouncing his tiny self around on Jason's huge body and big cock with little screams and cries and his adorable face all scrunched up tight in pleasure that Jason really, totally identified with.
He bit his tongue and tried to last, tried not to fall into the vortex of crackling, addictive, explosive ecstasy too soon. Because this was the best damn fuck he'd ever had in his life, ok? He didn't want it to be over almost as quickly as it had started. But his baby was wringing him out so good, and making such pretty noises while he did it, that Jason didn't know how he was gonna hold on.
He gritted his jaw and forced himself to concentrate, to hold back, to wait just a little longer, but then his bird starting fucking talking again.
"Hood, Hood!" he cried out in time with his bounces. "Gonna come so hard on a murderer, oh fuck, gonna come on your killer cock. Shoot me full of all that wicked, make me dirty, please please please -"
Well, he'd said please. It wouldn't be polite not to come after that.
Jason came with a roar, squeezing Robin's hips and forcing him down, to hold still, to take it as he grabbed control back and came long and hard in a blinding explosion of heat and light.
"Yes - yes -" baby bird was sobbing, and then he was velcroing himself even tighter to Jason's waist and chest and rutting his cock against his stomach in tiny little bounces, desperate and needy and rough.
"Come on, Robin," Jason breathed hoarsely into his ear. "Come for Red Hood."
"Oh, GOD," Robin wailed. He spasmed and shook and Jason felt the heat of thick ropey cum painting his t-shirt, and baby bird was nestling into it, smearing it all over his bare stomach when he sandwiched into Jason.
Jason wrapped his arms tight around his boy and pulled him in closer, even drawing his knees up to envelop his tiny treasure more completely. Robin was sniffing and trembling in his arms, and honestly? Jason was about the same. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so strung out, so completely drained from sex. Hell, maybe there was no last time. Maybe it was just this time.
His breathing rattled hoarse and rough against baby bird's little frame while he snuggled them together, tired and sweaty and completely, utterly, satisfied. His boy had his face buried in Jason's neck with his arms looped droopily around him, barely hanging on and relying on Jason's strength to keep him upright.
Which was a hell of a turn on, thank you very much. Good to know his ferocious little chihuahua could let himself receive sometimes, too.
When Jason went to press kisses into Robin's hair, he yanked his own cheap red mask off and tossed it aside, because the sweat was making it stick and itch like crazy. He snagged the rubber band on the back of Robin's mask, too, because it sure as hell wasn't comfortable for Jason to have a flimsy plastic domino smushed into his neck, so it couldn't feel good for his birdie.
Robin gave a tiny little hum of gratitude and lifted his face up for Jason to tug his mask off - and froze.
But it was too late. Mask had gone flying.
Jason Todd stared into Tim Drake's shocked face.
"Lemme up," Tim panted in a panic, shoving at Jason's chest while shock quickly morphed into horror.
"Tim," Jason said numbly, not resisting as BritneyTIM awkwardly but rapidly slid off Jason's cock, chest heaving and face bright red under the orange twinkle lights and damn near hyperventilating by the time he was standing.
Tim turned and bolted.
Jason bit out a curse and ripped the condom off, not caring where it fell, and scrambled to his feet, barely taking time to shove his cock back in his pants and zip up before running after Tim. He caught up to him at the back door of the house, where he was frantically scanning his palm print and begging the door to unlock.
"Tim -" Jason tried to say just as the door slid open. Tim dodged inside and tried to turn and slam the door shut, but it met Jason's hand and brawny bicep. Tim meeped and fled through the house.
His footsteps were thundering on the stairs by the time Jason had the door shut and secured, and a bedroom door had slammed and furniture was being dragged across floorboards even before Jason made it to the stairs.
Jason sighed, loud and long and frustrated. And more than a little bit worried, if he was being honest. It sounded like Tim was flipping the bed to lean it against the door. Good God. When a rubber band snaps, it goes flying, Jason groaned to himself.
Holy hell.
He thought about calling Steph, but she was only twenty and as such, didn't have a party invite. Dick's guest rules were absolute. No invite, no entrance, and Dick had firmly schooled the cops that no one, not even his hostastic self, could verbally approve guests who didn't have invitations. (Because when Dick drank, he drank, ok? Fucker would probably let Deathstroke in if he asked nicely once the party had started. Hence the rule.)
So Steph was maybe a last resort. Tim might not even pick up his phone for her, and he probably wouldn't consent to be coaxed out of hiding to meet her somewhere outside party central. And Jason got it. The dude was embarrassed. Mortified. Swimming in shame, most likely.
Not that he had reason to be.
"Baby?" Jason said sweetly, knocking on the closed door.
"I'm not your baby!" Tim shrieked, his voice slightly muffled by the mattress and entire room of furniture that was undoubtedly between him and Jason.
"I'd really like you to be," Jason said entreatingly, tracing his fingers on the doorframe. "Could we talk about it?"
"Talk about what?" Tim snapped from his fortress. "Nothing happened. Nothing. I said nothing, we did nothing, you saw nothing."
Jason chewed on his lip.
"I didn't feel nothing," he called back. An agonized yelp was his only answer. "Sweetheart, you don't have to be embarrassed -" Jason started to say.
"Fuck you!" Tim screamed back at him. "Fuck you, Jason. Go to hell. I didn't even mean anything I said. I was making shit up for show. It was all an act and I didn't mean any of it. So no. I don't have to be embarrassed," the corporate executive seethed from behind his furniture fort. "You should be embarrassed because you got turned on by that shit."
Jason didn't have to see Tim's face to see the sneer. He was all too familiar with how it looked.
"You really gonna be a shit when I'm out here being nice to you?" Jason sighed, banging his head lightly against the door.
"You're the shit, Jason!" Tim said coldly.
"I am the shit, bitch," Jason brazenly swaggered back. "And I know one thing for damn sure. You ain't never gonna get over the feel of my cock all up inside you. Baby bird," he added with a smirk in his voice, before turning on his heel and loudly thumping back down the stairs and out the door.
He'd been planning to sleep in one of Dick's spare rooms tonight, but he and Dick had a couple safehouses in the city that he could crash at instead. No sense in riling up his pretty bird's feathers even more when they were already all ruffled and askew.
This was a situation that called for finesse.
Oh God.
ohgodohgodohgod
He'd fucked Jason. And not just fucked him - no, Tim had shared his top-secret, super private, deeply disturbing fantasies about Jason with Jason.
Oh God.
Maybe - maybe he could hire Deathstroke. Have Jason killed. Again. Would that even take, though? Tim didn't know exactly how that Lazarus Pit shit worked. Would Jason just bounce back like a green rubber band, even angrier than before, and with much juicier methods of revenge at hand?
Oh God.
Tim's life was ruined. Tim's life was over. He'd become a recluse. Hide away in Dick's spare bedroom for the next seventy years like Howard Hughes, eating his fingernails and drinking his own piss.
Oh fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Tim didn't even notice that his tears had started until hysterical sobs were echoing off the walls, bouncing around more freely than they might have, had all the furniture in the room not been shoved against the door. The walls' now bare corners rudely echoed the soundtrack of the implosion of one Timothy Jackson Drake back to his own ears again and again and again.
Tim sagged to the ground, fell over in a heap, drew his knees up to his chest, and cried.
He'd righted all the furniture before the party broke up, not wanting to explain all the banging around to Dick whenever he stumbled in three sheets to the wind.
Jason, thankfully, hadn't returned. Had made it blatantly obvious that he was leaving when he went, in fact, Tim's relentless rational mind whispered to him. Almost like he'd wanted Tim to have that reassurance.
Which was stupid. Absolutely stupid, ok?
Jason was going to do nothing from now on but inflict Tim with even more cruelty than usual - with mocking gazes and knowing smirks and whispered reminders of Tim's shame.
Jason had always hated Tim. Hell, the moment he'd first laid eyes on him, Jason had tried to kill him. And ok, maybe that was some Lazarus rage, but the years afterward of scorn and derision and insults and eye rolls had nothing to do with green slime. Jason despised him.
It broke Tim's heart on a regular basis, that the Robin he'd once idolized couldn't stand him. Resented him, even. Instead of being grateful that Tim had saved Bruce from himself, that Tim had sacrificed his own future plans to instead chair Wayne E so that Lucius could finally retire. Bruce's trusted former CEO had wanted to step down ages before Tim had come along, but Bruce needed a confidante in the top position - someone who could manipulate funding and divert tech construction for Batman.
So Lucius had stayed on well into his sixties, out of duty and love and a shared belief in their mission. But the man had been visibly relieved when the Drake prodigy had entered their lives. Not only because Tim had taken the Robin mantle and shoved a grieving, hyper-violent Bruce back towards the light, but also because he was willing to learn how to take the reins of the company that supported all of Gotham, whether her citizens knew it or not.
But Jason just didn't care. No, that wasn't accurate, actually - Jason cared intensely. Jason acted like Tim had robbed him. Plundered his way into what Jason clearly considered a closed-circuit operation, never mind the fact that the whole Batman operation wouldn't even still exist if Tim hadn't worked himself to the bone - wasn't still working himself to the bone - trying his best to keep the ship afloat.
And this was the thanks he got. The promise of a future laden with humiliation, from the one person who Tim most wanted to respect him. If giving up had been an option, Tim would have given up a long time ago - so he'd do what he always did, grit his teeth and take this without a hint of his inner distress. Because Tim's job was to relieve Bruce of some of the burdens that Batman carried - not to add to them.
But, oh, God. How Tim wished he could be selfish just this once and disappear forever.
Tim was still awake when Dick finally made it inside
the house and stumbled his way upstairs to loudly collapse into bed, a sleepy, drunken, happy mess. Tim was still awake hours later, when Dick finally traded sleeping off his hangover for aspirin and tomato juice and coffee and bacon. Tim was hiding like a coward in his room, but he was still awake.
Maybe he would have been able to sleep if Jason had laughed at him. Rubbed salt in the wound right away, cut him open a little deeper. But Tim's treacherous mind wouldn't stop replaying how sweet Jason had sounded, outside his barricaded door. How concerned.
And oh, God, the way Jason had kissed him, when his cock was buried deep inside Tim, when they'd decided to keep seeing each other - Tim had to keep gulping back silent tears, not wanting Dick to hear. Jason's kiss had been so soft, so full of promise and affection.
But that was before he'd known it was Tim. Except, except, when he did know it was Tim, he'd followed him, tried to talk to him -
And Tim had been an ass. Worse than an ass. A nasty piece of shit. He'd returned to Jason in one fell swoop all of the scathing attitude that he'd been on the receiving end of for years, prior to their hookup.
Oh God. Jason must hate him twice as much now.
And that made Tim cry more. Because he'd had a chance - Jason Todd had actually given Timothy Drake a chance - he'd given him the benefit of kindness, he'd been the mature one - and Tim had thrown it in his face.
Fuck his fucking life.
"You have a delivery, Mr. Drake." The receptionist's voice chirped bright and clear through the penthouse intercom two days later, early on Saturday afternoon.
"Did security check it?" Tim asked.
"Yes, sir. No threat." There was entirely too much smile in her voice, which made Tim nervous. Very nervous.
What if - what if Jason had sent him a giant dildo or something? Not knowing - or hell, maybe absolutely knowing - that all of Tim's personal deliveries went through the security scanner before being sent up to the penthouse.
Oh God.
ohgodohgodohgod
"Send it up," Tim said in a tight voice.
Seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness, far outpaced by Tim's anxiously tapping toes, while he waited for the elevator to make its way up from the lobby to the top floor of Wayne Tower. It felt like he'd aged a year before he heard the ding in the small foyer outside his front door.
Tim steeled his face into bland detachment while he waited for the knock. If someone was playing a practical joke on him by sending him the world's biggest sex toy, well, that had nothing to do with him, did it?
He'd make sure to take it back downstairs and roll his eyes to the receptionist and security guards, ask them to call the manufacturer, look into who'd sent him such an outlandish, offensive, inappropriate item, and beg them to take care of discarding the dildo, so they wouldn't think he'd ordered it for himself. (That's what PO Boxes and disguises and fake identities were for, thank you very much.)
Timothy Drake, CEO, would absolve himself from this mess and preserve his image and his squeaky-clean reputation and -
There was a gentle rap. Tim took a deep breath and let his face fall into carelessly relaxed, unperturbed smoothness, and opened the door.
His gasp of surprise was entirely, embarrassingly audible.
"Right?" Jordan from the front desk said, beaming at him from behind a massive bouquet of red roses, yellow peonies, and black orchids that looked like it cost a small fortune. "Guess you made a good impression on somebody, huh, Mr. Drake?" she winked. Tim flushed as red as the roses.
"Don't worry, none of us read the card," Jordan assured him, pushing the bouquet into his arms. "We respect your privacy," she said. "Plus, it was sealed," she mumbled on a giggle.
"The non-disclosure agreement applies to flower deliveries, too," Tim said wearily, hoping that Vicki Vale wouldn't be speculating in tomorrow's gossip columns about who was courting the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.
"We know, we know," Jordan scoffed. "We keep your secrets."
"Uh huh," Tim sighed, balancing the enormous vase with one arm on his hip so he could pull out a hundred dollar bill to tip Jordan.
"Thanks, Mr. D!" she said happily. "Enjoy your flowers!" she said cheerfully. "And your man," she called over her shoulder just before Tim shut the door.
Tim swallowed and fought the nervous butterflies dancing in his stomach. It had to be from Jason. Right? Red roses were an obviously romantic choice. Plus, it wasn't like it was his birthday or anything, and even if Alfred had got it into his head to send Tim flowers for some strange reason, he wouldn't send him a bouquet with Red Robin's freaking colors.
Was Jason just fucking with him, though? God, the card could be hideous. Maybe he was lulling Tim into a false sense of hope only to smash his feelings with a crowbar. Tim couldn't stop the pathetic, miserable whimper that escaped his throat as he set the flowers down on his coffee table.
What he'd been reduced to. God.
Tim plucked the card out of its elegant swirled metal holder with shaking hands and sat down on his equally elegant leather couch. He took a deep breath. He could do this. Steel heart, steel mind, steel face.
Tim slowly ripped open the very-wisely-sealed card and flipped the creamy, gold embossed flap open. His breath caught in his throat.
Call me, baby bird. We can work this out. xo Jason
Scrawled in Jason's own dashing hand. Sent with a bouquet of Tim's colors that had to have cost Jason a good thousand dollars.
Tim didn't realize that he had scrunched the note up until it brushed against the edge of his nose, from where his hands had come up not only to muffle his sobs, but to give his knees room to curl up in fetal position, after he'd somehow tipped over sideways on the couch.
He couldn't - he couldn't - it was Jason - it was - better dealt with by pulling a blanket over his head and hiding, sobbing on his sofa.
Tim hadn't called Jason.
He hadn't texted.
He couldn't.
He was too embarrassed. He didn't know what to say. Tim Drake could handle boardrooms, he could handle Batman, he could handle Lex Luthor, hell, he could even handle Steph's melodramatic dating life - but he couldn't handle facing Jason Todd again.
Fear froze his belly solid, made him shove his cellphone away from him every time that he even halfway considered trying to send Jason an impersonal thank-you-for-the-flowers text.
Maybe Jason would take the hint and leave him alone after this. That would be the best possible outcome, right? Jason not mocking him, but not pursuing him either. Both of them pretending that nothing had ever happened. Tim hiding like a coward forever.
Dammit.
Tim sighed as he palmed his hand over his front door's security pad after a long day at the office. He was so tired, so so tired. But what else was new? He'd shove some protein bars down his throat while he answered some emails, and then he'd take a quick nap before suiting up for patrol.
It would be one more long, tiring night after a long, tiring day, in the endless chain of Tim's long, tiring life. He could handle it.
It's what he did.
The delicious smells were the first thing that Tim noticed when he stepped in his front door. Marinara sauce. Onions, garlic… chicken? What the hell?
Tim set his laptop case down and hesitantly made his way to the kitchen. And - holy fuck. Jason was there - wearing an apron that Tim definitely hadn't had in the house, looking sexy as hell with a dishtowel flipped over his bulky shoulder, wearing tight jeans and a tighter t-shirt and, apparently, cooking dinner.
"Oh, hi baby!" Jason said brightly, turning to dazzle Tim with a radiant smile when he heard the confused little noise that flew out of Tim's throat, announcing his presence. "Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes, ok? How was your day?"
"Jason," Tim said weakly.
"Yeah, babe?" Jason innocently smiled. As if this was normal. As if he lived here. As if he and Tim were a couple, as if everything between them was better than fine, was perfect, a rosy, golden dream that Tim, despite all his lurid fantasies, had never once dared to imagine.
"What are you doing?" Tim croaked out, his hands nervously fluttering at his sides.
"Cooking you dinner," Jason said, like it should be obvious.
"Jason," Tim implored, shutting his eyes in agony. Heavy footsteps landed in front of him.
"I got you a present, baby bird," Jason said in a husky voice.
"The flowers," Tim mumbled, peeking at the floor under still-lowered lashes. "I know. Thank you. I didn't know how -"
"Besides the flowers," Jason interrupted, shoving what felt like a zip-locked bag into Tim's hand.
"What…?" Tim said in confusion, opening his eyes out of curiosity. There was a glove in the bag. One of Red Hood's gloves, it looked like, and the fingertips and insides of the bag were smeared with gooey red -
"Aaahggggghhhh!" Tim shrieked, flinging the bag away from him like a monkey with poo. "Ohmigod! Jason! What the fuck? That's not even - it was a fantasy, ok? A fantasy! Blood's completely unsanitary, I could get HIV, ohmigod, you brought me blood from a kill? Actual blood? What is the matter with you?!" Tim flailed, panting in horror and revulsion while Jason … laughed?
Yeah.
Laughed.
"Babe," Jason spluttered, bent over double and leaking tears out of his eyes.
"Get out," Tim snapped. "Get the fuck out. You did all this just to mock me? Fuck you, Jason. Fuck you, get out -"
"Hey, hey, hey," Jason gasped, suddenly sobering up. "Baby, no - I thought you'd like it - I'm not mocking you, honey. I'm trying to seduce you."
"With a bloody glove?" Tim shrieked.
"It's lube," Jason said, unable to keep a tiny chuckle out of his voice. "And I thought you'd like it. Wanted to show you that you didn't have to be embarrassed about your fantasies. And that we could even act them out, if you wanted," Jason finished with a sheepish smile and a shy blush.
"What?" Tim said numbly. Jason retrieved his rejected offering from the floor and opened the bag.
"It's anal lube. I put red food coloring in it," Jason said, dipping his finger into the bag and swiping up some possibly-not-blood. "They're clean gloves, too. I disinfected them in bleach first."
"Oh," Tim said in a small voice, reaching a tentative finger out to feel what was, in fact, thank God, only lube and not blood coating Jason's fingertip. "Um. That was -" he didn't know how to stop rubbing his finger against Jason's - "that was kind of sweet, actually," Tim mumbled, his cheeks turning bright red and his eyes darting back down to the floor.
"Only kind of sweet?" Jason said in mock offense, before suddenly twisting his hand to grab Tim's wrist and popping both of their lubed up fingers into his mouth, where he licked them clean. Tim shivered.
"Do you know how many brands of lube I tested out to find the one that had the best blood texture?" Jason demanded after he slowly withdrew their fingers from his mouth, only to intertwine their hands together and squeeze Tim's palm against his.
"How many?" Tim whispered, feeling his ears burn while his eyes stayed glued to the floor.
"Twelve," Jason proudly declared. "And I flavored it, too." Well, that got Tim to look up.
"Like what?" he asked with mild anticipatory horror.
"Strawberry," Jason grinned. Tim's shoulders sagged in relief and Jason giggled. "There weren't a lot of red flavored choices," he shrugged. "Cherry, but we both know we're not virgins," Jason winked, letting his voice rasp a little lower. Tim blushed deeper and hung his head.
"Jason, I don't -" he cut himself off, biting his lip.
"You don't what, baby?" Jason said softly, but his hand had tensed up where it was interlocked with Tim's.
"I don't know how to talk to you," Tim blurted out. "Hell, I don't even know how to look at you," he said, proving his point by raising skittish eyes to Jason's that held his concerned gaze for all of .2 seconds before flicking away again.
"Oh," Jason said, relief evident in his voice. "Well. You don't have to talk or look at me if I'm hugging you," he offered. Tim timidly raised his head, then darted forward into Jason's arms before he could embarrass himself out of it, burying his face against Jason's muscular chest and letting his anxious breath out with an oof.
"There you go, baby bird. I got you," Jason soothed, wrapping his arms around Tim tight and rocking the two of them together. One hand found its way to Tim's hair and nestled there, stroking gentle lines that made Tim gulp back a sob. "Shhh," Jason comforted him. "It's gonna be ok, sweetheart. We'll figure everything out."
"I was so mean to you!" Tim sniffed into Jason's apron.
"Before or after we had sex?" Jason inquired dryly.
"Was I mean to you before?" Tim asked him in surprise, lifting his head up to look at Jason, who raised an eyebrow and looked right back at him. "You were always mean to me!" Tim protested. "I only tried to stay out of your way."
"How was I mean to you?" Jason demanded, but without rancor. In fact, his brow was furrowed up and he looked damn curious. "I mean, aside from the Pit rage attack," he added, looking deeply ashamed.
"You were always rolling your eyes and snorting and making sarcastic little comments about me," Tim said, unable to quite keep all of the hurt out of his voice.
"Well, that was only because you always looked at me like I was nothing, some piece of garbage," Jason protested. "Like 'thank God Tim Drake came along, cuz we all know Jason couldn't have run Wayne E or kept Bruce on the straight and narrow."
"Oh my God," Tim stared at him. "I never thought any of that. And I only gave you nasty looks when you were mean!"
"I was only mean when you gave me nasty looks!" Jason shot back in frustration.
Tim and Jason stared at each other.
And then burst out laughing.
"You seriously mean to tell me," Jason wheezed, "that I could have been fucking your tight little ass this whole time?"
"You could've been running Wayne E, too," Tim sighed, snuggling his head back against Jason's chest. "I hate it."
"Seriously?" Jason said in shock. Tim nodded.
"Lucius was so happy when he met me, when we were doing the merger. He blabbed all about how long he'd been waiting to retire, and how good it was to finally have a replacement him and Bruce could trust - because I was Robin - and he'd help me all I needed to get me settled in, but I was gonna do great and …" Tim trailed off.
"Baby!" Jason said in horror. "No no no. We're gonna get all that sorted out. You don't need to be doing something you hate."
"Someone has to do it," Tim sighed pragmatically, sounding resigned to his fate.
"Someone will," Jason promised. "Me, or Babs, or you me and Babs, or some of Lucius's kids - we'll figure it out. Ok?" he said gently.
"Why're you being so nice to me?" Tim mumbled, fighting the thickness in his throat and the tears clogging his ducts.
"Cuz you're my fanboy and I like you," Jason smiled down at him with genuine warmth. "Plus you gave me the best sex of my life. And I dunno, something about buttoned up, clean cut Tim Drake, CEO, being a closeted kinky slut really turns me on. Especially cuz it's me you're all kinky for," Jason grinned. "I'm gonna like being your naughty little secret, baby bird," Jason smirked.
Tim hesitated.
"You wouldn't have to be a secret," he mumbled. "If you didn't want to. But I mean, it's fine if you do. I know Bruce will lose his mind if he knows we're dating, and -"
"You had me at 'wouldn't have to be a secret,'" Jason interrupted, bending down and nuzzling their noses together. "But you reeled me in with 'Bruce will lose his mind.'" Tim giggled. "You sure, though, babe?" Jason asked him. "It won't bother me to be out in the open, but you'll catch a lot of heat for it."
"I'm sure," Tim said softly, pulling his hands out of the hug around Jason's chest so he could loop them around his neck, instead. "I'm not embarrassed of you, Jason. Just, um, of all my kinks about you."
"Which will stay our little secret, but which we will explore in great detail," Jason proudly declared.
"Yeah we will, Red Hood," Tim whispered, pulling him down into a kiss. A kiss that Tim sighed into, when Jason licked warm and slow and sweet into his mouth before letting Tim kiss him back, needy and apologetic and happy all at once. They only broke apart when the kitchen timer went off.
"Dinner's ready," Jason grinned.
"How'd you get in here?" Tim asked him curiously.
"Balcony," Jason said nonchalantly.
"With all the groceries?" Tim gaped.
"I'm Red Hood, Princess. I have many skills," Jason boasted. He paused. "Not quite as many as you, though, power bottom," he winked, slapping Tim's ass as he let go of him to get the chicken out of the oven.
"You haven't even seen half of what I can do," Tim said smugly.
"But I will," Jason vowed.
Yeah. He would. And Tim couldn't be happier about it.
The End.
A/N - Thanks for reading! (Nice) comments are always much appreciated.
You can follow me on Tumblr as River9Noble. Come say hi!
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Detailed TW - gore kink -
Tim fantasizes about Jason rubbing blood from his kills onto his gloves and using it as lube to fuck him. It's later revealed to be strictly a fantasy, not something Tim literal wants to happen.