Tim climbed on top of me, mounting me in a sense. I shivered at the thought as his flesh blended with my own, seeking out the knots of tension like a homing missile, and I groan and detonate beneath his hands. I think of him standing briefly in the doorway, contemplating entry into my den. Was I going to devour him? Even I haven't answered that yet. A growl erupts in my mind, thinking of ways to take him and make him less chaste. I am not aware of much except the wonderful hands stretching my skin and thinning my reservations. Suddenly his lips press against my jaw line: one simple, fatal kiss. It was so sensual, so soft and reserved yet inhibition less and my breath caught in my throat. A soft moan managed to pass through my lips.
"Tim…" part whimper, part groan, part question it was but a breath. I dared not breathe or speak anymore in fear of shattering this moment and sending him running. All the while his hands continued their fluid wading through the shores of my back. He tensed up and his hands stopped momentarily, making me shake a bit the way I used to do when I was a child and my mother would stop stroking my hair. It was trivial, really. A small motion. I could tell he was thinking and I desperately wanted to know what. I exhaled and my eyes bolted up as his lips wandered over my neck, hesitantly at first but then more freely and the sheer pleasure of that combined with his expert hands made me moan, low and clear. I knew he'd heard. Somewhere within that noise his name was embedded once more. I bit my lip and lay still, wanting more and waiting for his next move. He couldn't write that off as a slip or an accident. His motion was deliberate, soft, lustful. It had been so long but I still recognized the familiar desire. I licked my lips as more soft noises flowed from my throat and into Tim's ears.
My mind began to race as noises continued to spill from my mouth. The boy was toying with me-- what was he doing? What was his angle? Suspicious, I went through the list of possible motives in my head but could not find a suitable one. His lips brushed my cheek in a soft, boyish way. Just what i would expect from him. I knew Tim wasn't very physical-- at least he wasn't used to the physical. I knew he missed her-- yes that must be it! He just misses Stephanie. His sharp nose jabbed my chin, forcing me to turn. My eyes widened to draw in light and he kisses me, ever so briefly, but it was enough to make me feel like a disarmed warhead. I was at a loss as to what I should do next and my tongue darted out, seeking his mouth but it was nowhere to be found. The magickal hands were back dancing on my skeleton and I pictured Tim taking out two mallets and playing my spinal column like a xylophone. The imprint of his kiss was still upon my lips and another groan, low and loud and intense, worked its way from between my moistened lips.
"...Again" I barely breathed, trapped by his form and weight, unable to respond with anything other than words. Mere words. Sometimes words were not enough, my words had failed me. I can feel his body tense above me, contemplating. He over thinks everything, and I can almost hear the scraping of gears in his head, the same way he would think about his next move during a fight. That's all I am to him-I curse. The equivalent of a battle, something to calculate, something to perfect. What will he do after he perfects this? I cringe to think of it, the sure abandonment, and then chastise myself for making this more than it is. It was only one kiss. Two-now his lips push themselves over mine, working themselves into the grooves of my mouth. He is rougher than I expected, though not entirely devoid of passion. His movements are slightly mechanical, however, and I fight disappointment. I'd have to teach him. His pulls away but I am not yet satisfied, and I feel the ebb and flow of warm breath on my neck. It makes me shudder and I wretch one of my hands loose. It slinks over his neck and to his chin, touching his lips briefly before settling and pulling his face closer. I watch it loom in my vision, as our faces become one lustful blur. My lips are hot against his, slow and potent, determined to savor the experience, tongue snaking over his lip, drinking in his shudders. His mouth is soft and malleable, it forms to my caresses and I enjoy the small cracks in the earned by the skin as it faced the cold and the wind. The force of my body sends small shockwaves to the youth and he tumbles from me, a smile passing over my lips as they briefly leave his. He is breaking down, slowly but surely, his defenses are weaning and there is more feeling to it now as my hands wander over his back, feeling the contraction and relaxation of taut muscles slithering beneath his skin. I allow myself to break from his embrace, briefly, and he whimpers softly. I hope it is out of desire for me. My body turns, twisting and arching, until I am partially above him, looking down at his panic stricken, confused, lustful face. The combination is strangely perfect and urging, and I look at the flawless column of his throat before leaning down and piercing his shell with another kiss, deeper than any of the previous, tongue making its way slowly into the warm crevices of his mouth, drinking in his moans before they are let out into the atmosphere, afraid to lose them and forget this moment.
I force my hand out from under him, using it instead to stroke his side gently as I continue to probe his mouth, each individual pressure becomes a question: What do you want? Why do you want it? Do you want me? Why are you doing this to me? Does this feel good? What do you want. The last question is firm and demanding as I press my tongue to the roof of his mouth, exploring the sensitivity, feeling his body hum like a tuning fork struck to play a completely new melody and I am pressed against him like a prisoner on the wall, wanting to let go but unable. Tim entrances me but eventually I become stronger than the enchantment and pull away, looking at him, hoping my eyes are soft and inviting as I wish them to be.
"Tim…" the word falls from my lips once more, or perhaps he has plucked it as he's plucked all former memories from my brain and all that is left is him, right here, and now. Oh, I shall have to thank him for that later. My hand brushes a fumbling strand of hair from his forehead as my pupils continue to watch and dance, contracting and expanding, noting the exact details of the lines on his forehead. Working with Bruce is giving him early crow's feet but I think they make him look regal somehow. There is something new in his flesh, a secret waiting to be dug out by my pressing body pressing questions against his heart-innocent urgency. That is what I feel. Innocent desire, innocent sin. I almost moan with delight from it and I wish to squeeze every sweet drop of it from him like from a black stone.
My eyebrows etch into a deep furrow as he pulls out from under me, propping himself up and facing me, almost like a challenge. Two rams about to butt heads except different. I picture two rams in a field of daises, disclosing their feelings for each other and contemplate telling Tim of the funny image, but decide not to. I cannot help the furrow in my forehead, though, as much as I wish to erase it. It is annoying and not the message I wish to convey. Why did I say his name? I'm not sure where to go from here, and my hand finds his, hovering above and then laying down to rest on it gently, or perhaps to die. I'm sure there is a blush upon my cheeks and hope he doesn't see it. No, I want him to see it, to see the feeling, to see that this experience registered in many parts of my brain not simply as carnality and desire but something more.
"Yes?" his voice penetrates the wall between us and I almost draw back as some of its glass shatters onto my chest. An answer is expected but I don't have one. The cold seeps back into my bones and I shiver, thinking, but making sure to keep looking at him. All hopes of reading his face dissolve, as he is back to robotic Tim, expressionless. Beep Beep, cold and sterile, so much it is acrid and biting and I almost whimper. I have the taste of him in my mouth, surprisingly sweet. This confuses me: he doesn't eat sweets, he's not allowed to. Where did this come from? Was he naturally sweet?
"Have you been sneaking Zesti?" the question is blurted out before I have a chance to intercept it.
"No…" his eyes dart around and my frown deepens, zeroing in on the lie. My teeth click and I glare at him. "No!" he almost shouts and then I'm sure he's lying. I can't help but laugh warmly.
"Liar," I shake my head with a good-natured smile and accidentally catch his eye, finding myself unable to look away as though possessed. I just stare. God I must look like an idiot. A small smirk dances on his lips. Damn it, that's /my/ trademark.
"It makes me taste better." His face immediately falls with regret as a giant smirk overtakes my own features, almost leering. I cannot wipe it off my face, nor can I extract the huskiness from my voice as my hand reaches out to trace his jaw, pulling him closer.
"Can't argue with you there." So damned low, much chase the undertones from it. I try again. "You'd better be careful. Now I've a way of checking if you've been sneaking sweets." I wait for him to blush, as though that were my goal. Now I've a way of checking? Did that mean I intended on kissing him again? Yes, I most definitely did.
"It's almost dark, I better get home soon. You better get on the route," I slumped forward slightly, disappointed. The coldness had crept into his voice again and since when did darkness make any difference to him? He simply wants to avoid me, to leave and pretend this never happened. I knew it would be that way. My heart skips a beat as he opens his mouth to chirp more into my ear.
"I think I'll do my route tonight, I'm feeling better." I open my mouth to respond but he cuts it off with a kiss. A surprised noise rolls off my lips and into his, and my hands are instantly weaving through his hair, wrought with insanity and desire. I pull my fingers through the soft tufty mass, enjoying the slick feeling my shampoo imposed on the follicles as they curve to my hands. My tongue licks at his lips, longing to taste the trace sweetness I'd briefly experienced and now hungered for.
To my relief he does not resist but seems to crave this as much as I do. His feline body forms to mine in a beautiful streamlined curve and I'm in awe. I decide to keep my eyes open as I continue kissing him, wary of not capturing the entire moment otherwise. He initiated this. He's continuing this. My head swam with clouds of different colors, brief flashes of Babs and Bruce and Jason fluttered through my head but the prominent fog made its way over my eyes in a flurry of green and red. I was lost in Tim. Time. Ha.
"Dick, I love you. You're a beautiful creature." My eyes fly open, lashes striking my brow line with such a force I think I will bruise but I know I am only exaggerating in my state of shock. This time his tongue is not idle but works into my mouth with surprising skill. I moan as his hands brush my hipbones and the couple sensations are too much as I am reminded of my now numb arousal.
"Tim…" my groans are suffocated by the kisses as I snake my arms around him, making sure to keep him firmly in place, one hand wandering up the naked flesh of his back underneath the impeding fabric. My bedroom, my mind registers briefly and the realization flickers through my head. We're in my bedroom, Tim and I happened in my bedroom, would my sheets smell like him now? He told me he loved me and I froze, thankfully I didn't have to respond because he didn't give me the chance. How did I feel about him? I know I care deeply for him, and there has always been something bubbling underneath the surface of my skin, like an itch that would become irritated whenever he was around. His lips and taste suited mine better than anybody's had in the past. But love? I don't know. What's love? I go through the list in my mind: Kory, Barbara, Garth, Bruce… etcetera. Were any of those love? How does one tell?
"Dick, aren't you afraid?" I pull away and look at him, sudden strength scorching through my veins as the need to protect him takes over, the need to reassure his hunched shoulders. Tim doesn't usually hunch and I take this as a sign of defeat.
"No, little brother…" I take the chance. "…Lover." My voice is soft and warm, and I will it to caress his skin with invisible fingers. "Everything about you frightens me except what you believe to be frightening. I won't get hurt, Tim, unless you will it." My smile is pliable and lucid upon my features, illuminating the tenderness in my eyes. I lean plunge forward and plant gentle kisses on his neck, hoping they'll grow into something more someday. His skin is hot and soft beneath my lips, firm and pulsating. "I'm not afraid." I repeat. "Trust me." The taut flesh leans to me, twisting to allow better access.
"Isn't it odd how anyone that gets close to me dies? Isn't it odd how the only two girlfriends I've ever had died?" I pull away and look at him, squarely in the eyes. His are watery and the corners of my mouth turn down at his fear and sadness. How lonely he is, how lonely he's fated to be. I want to save him. My thumb brushes his cheek gently. He is frightened that somehow, by getting involved with him, I will get hurt. That I'll die. He's so small and vulnerable I wish to cradle him within my cranium with all my other dark dreams and scant strokes of brilliance.
"Tim…" I'm not sure how to begin, how to convey to him that his fears are so… sweet. They make me love him more. Wait-more? I must've said that last part aloud-idiot. Dick, you're a fool. I clear my throat, embarrassed. "Our lifestyle is dangerous. I have been doing this since before you, since before we met. It is natural to worry when the person you love is tangled up in this shit, but you are not poisonous." I soften my gaze. "If I die, it would never be because of you." Whatever he's about to say is cut off promptly by my lips upon his, urgent, trying to engrave my previous statement into his flesh. His limbs tangle with mine, pressing closer to me as if trying to bore a hole in my chest and crawl inside. It is almost painful but I am delirious with the sensation of it, of caring. His eyes are closed, eyeballs skittering side to side in thought beneath the thin eyelids and thick lashes.
"You can save me, Dick." I look at him and the pangs come in slow bursts, skewing my heartbeat. Save him? How could I save him? Have I ever really saved anybody? Bruce? No… Bruce and I liked to think we saved each other but in reality nothing had been accomplished. Not the others, definitely not. Did I want to be the hero? No, not /the/ hero. His hero. He thinks I cannot see him crying and tries to hide it, but I can more than see it. I feel it in the hollows of my collarbones, the shuddering of my own chest and it swells with his pain. If he was trying to get inside me, it worked. I wrap my arms about him, trying to protect him from the evil birds I know reside in my walls and would peck at his flesh otherwise. Oh Tim, don't you see the truth--- the pain you'll receive from /me/ I want this to last a little longer. I hum a soft melody as the striking of the clock declares the lateness of the hour. My lips linger a little longer upon his and then pull away.
"I feel you…" It is barely a whisper as I lick the salty tear from his cheek, waiting for more to come. "I'm here."