Thinking about Tim being Damianâs first kiss.
Damian being so soft, so tentative, when he lightly presses his lips to Timâs. He doesnât close his eyes, wants, needs, to see Timâs reaction.
He doesnât know what to think when Tim says his name in that tone of his that means heâs sorry and he doesnât want to hurt you but Damian, heâ he canât let this be their first and last kiss, wonât leave Tim with this impress of him, someone who canât kiss properly, canât take Timâs breath away. He knows he can, given the chance.
He leans forward again, eager to prove himself. To prove that if Tim just lets him, heâll be so good that Tim wonât ever need anyone else, wonât even be able to entertain the idea.
So he kisses Tim like his life depends on it, because in a way, he thinks it does.
He licks, and he nibbles, and he pulls. Heâs climbing into Timâs lap, straddling him and holding on to his face for dear life.
He doesnât notice the tears coating his cheeks until he feels a thumb swipe at them.
âDames..â and he canâtâ he canât.
He tastes salt, and he knows Tim does too, because he hasnât stopped kissing him.
âPlease,â he snivels. Heâs breaking the kiss to burrow his face in Timâs neck. âI can be so good for you,â he whispers. âPlease, justâ just let me show you I can.â