°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Sin°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

As time goes on, however, and the sun blares high, you find yourself staying over more often than not. Things are organized by your design and are likewise maintained by your preference. Kon thinks it's kind of a pain to not fling everything everywhere, but he gets it. Tim...just don't touch his stuff, and he doesn't care what you do with it. Perfect for you.

Summer break doesn't last forever, though, and for your peace of mind, you pack your bags and head back home. "You have your own place? Seriously? Why is this the first I'm hearing about it?" Kon will scoff, earnestly a little hurt at the notion. "Rob, did you know about this?"

"Of course I did."

"Of course you did." Kon sighs, rubbing his temple. "Let's all keep secrets from Kon-El; it's everyone's favorite game." He shrugs his shimmering irritation off, instead choosing to help you with your bags. Unlike someone glued to his phone on the couch. "Let's see it then."

Compared to Tim's...your flat is small, tiny, really. Teeny tiny. You seem comfortable enough? It's a place in Gotham, at least; those are few and far between. Expensive too; Kon wonders why you bother with it to begin with. Tim makes it work; maybe it's in the fine print of the contract to be a bat, being able to squeeze into small places and all. Kon...worries he'll knock something over by just turning around.

Somehow, the three of you squeeze into your twin-sized bed that's pushed into the far corner. Kons curled around where your head normally lies like a mother bird protecting her babies from falling out of the nest. His massive bicep props him up, leather jacket having long been peeled off and laid aside. You're in the middle, scrolling, while Tim's resting his chin on your knee, curled up at your feet, doing the same.

"It's so hot." The man behind you sighs, casually resting his palm alongside your breastbone. His stub for nails drum against the fabric of your shirt. Seeking, picking, heavy. "You wanna take this off, huh, babe?"

"Oh yeah, real smooth." Tim snorts, not even bothering to glance up.

"Always so prickly." Kon scoffs, being more obvious in how he fondles you. "Come on, don't you wanna fool around in a new place?"

"New to you."

"What, you've been here before then?" Kon purses his lips into a pout.

"Sure," Tim shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Now it's your turn to frown. No way, he's never been invited. Then again, it's Tim. Practically the last person on earth to respect things like boundaries and social norms.

“Ignore him, baby; let me love on you instead.” Kon huffs, gently knuckling your jaw into facing hun. His lips are always chapped, even with the taste of cherry chapstick always coating them. Even clones aren’t perfect. Go figure someone obsessed with power would overlook something so small.

You don’t dwell on that, though, allowing Kon to work you up into the mood. Wordlessly, he places your phone off to the side, dipping further down to let your hands slide into his hair. Not gelled, for once. “Mh…s’gonna be weird havin’ you somewhere else.” He murmurs down the side of your neck.

“Doors always open if you change your mind.” Tim hums, pretending to not watch the two of you locking lips. He’s easily satisfied by just that, but it seems the resident voyeur wants in on the action tonight. He tucks his own device between his thighs before working your pants down just enough to slip your cock out. Quickly getting to work.

Against your lips, Kon scoffs, but enjoys the show regardless. Continuing to palm here and there while you tug this way and that at your leisure. Tim's mouth is hot and lazy around your cock, he's having fun dragging his tongue back and forth against it.

Alfred doesn't know what to do, and honestly, neither do you. Bruce is failing nearly all his classes; he's quit his extracurriculars, and he doesn't even like to watch his favorite films anymore. He just cries, and cries, and cries, hiding away where no one can see him most days. With no one else to cling to, however, he's begun warming back up to the two of you. Even if he denies it.

With the oakwood door pushed open, you dive into the child's bed with Bruce in your arms, a playful grin on your lips. Bruce lay still at last with his back to his sheets, his eyes heavy with the threat of sleep upon them. Still, he persisted, fighting his drowsiness as the vampire sprawled out beside him.

It's time for him to rest now, you whispered.

You caressed the boy's cheek, taking in how, indeed, he is still only a child with a cold front as large as the Arctic. Though even within the comfort of your care, Bruce could not find it in himself to relax.

“I don't want to, not yet.” He pouted, shaking his head.

You hum, pushing stray hair back from the young thing's face. Standing from the boy's side, you softly kiss the back of his hand before fully pulling away. Ever since the passing of the child's parents, Bruce often found himself restless after dark. At first, it was slightly endearing, with Bruce opting to rather spend the night curled up at your or Alfred's side than his own bed. Nevertheless, feeling comfortable in his own space during the night was crucial to Bruce's development, so something had to be done for the child's comfort. 

Besides, as a couple, the two of you needed some semblance of privacy after a long day of running the manor yourselves.

Which one should you check first, the window? You inquired, fingers dancing along the gold-finished nubs of the window locks.

With a nod from the boy, you push the window open and lean out and over it. You made a good show out of caring to observe the shingles of the roof from the lower floors and likewise the garden. With sharp eyes gazing over the grounds, you wave the night's chill air to your nose, breathing deeply.

“Anything?” Bruce asked.

Nothing, you replied with a dismissive wave.

You resealed the window, knocking your knuckles against it roughly for good measure. Bruce watched intently as you fell back into the old routine of inspecting his room. His closet housed no evils; the shadows under his bed were just that until every possible hiding spot had been overturned and thoroughly investigated. 

While Bruce surveyed his room for the final verdict, you busied yourself by fluffing up the child's blankets and bringing them up to the boy's chest. You smooth them out and tucked them under the child's arms and legs; Bruce couldn’t get any more snug.

“It…looks okay. I guess.” The boy nodded when all was said and done, determining that yes, no one had sneaked into not only the manor but his room too.

“Alors étirons-nous une dernière fois,” Instructed Tamashi, raising his arms high for Bruce to mirror, “Et serrez nos muscles serrés, serrés, serrés”

You then instruct Bruce to squeeze his muscles tight, raising your arms for him to mirror. Tight, tight, tight...then release.

The child followed suit of your exaggerated displays, tightening every muscle he could feel at once and holding it for a minute. When they relaxed, Burce felt a comforting type of heaviness in his bones, one that kept him still and falling further into silence. You smoothed your nails across the boy's face one last time before kissing the child's forehead.

"Wait- what about Alfred?"

Of course, you sigh. Of course. Your lover is easy to call for, especially in Bruce's room, thanks to the little pulley in the corner. You imagine Alfreds just doing the rounds now. Checking the locks as you have here.

"Master Bruce, you called?" He appears before long, as poised as he always is. Halfway hidden under the covers, the child squirms. Slightly embarrassed over his own wants and desires. "Um...goodnight."

Alfred smiles small at that, "Goodnight, young master." He bows his head. You follow suit. Bruce's gaze lingers heavily until the door to his room closes.

That child, what are you going to do with him? "I swear, he feels like our own most nights." Alfred hums, caressing your arm before continuing on his way.

Right.

"Just shut up, you do your thing, and I'll do mine, Dick-brain." Jason grunts, smacking the back of his hand against his brother's chest before migrating over to you. It takes more than a little effort (and even more so to ignore the wolf whistle the idiot himself sends) to traverse, but Jason manages. Sliding up behind you. It feels natural to subtly bump and grind. "Hey, you come here often?"

Jason smirks at your cheer, hugging you back as you latch onto him. You're all flushed and sweaty, absolutely gorgeous. It took Jason a while to get used to how much you drank, but you know how to control yourself and what your limits are, so it doesn't bug him as much as it used to. Lucky for you, since you always seem eager to lock lips after a shot or two. "You seen anything suspicious tonight, hot stuff? White guy, blondie, green eyes. Shitty grey shirt and jeans. Ring any bells?"

He murmurs it all into your ear under the guise of...well, the obvious. You are drunk, though, and this is a pretty dark club, so it's to be expected when you shake your head and shrug. Jason loiters, and his brother lets him. Your hands drift from his sculpted ass to his waist, to his nipples and back down again. Always so handsy. "Perv," Jason smirks.

It falls when your hands finally dip lower, skimming the edge of his briefs. What color are they? You pester, grinding closer, harder. It's been so long since you've seen him last; he can't really just show up like this and tease you, can he? Jason...Jason, Jason-

"Not now, okay?" His palm presses up against your puckered lips. "I know, I know. I'm terrible. Sue me." He offers a kiss to the edge of your mouth to pacify you for the time being. "Later, sweet thing. I got a job to do, gotta lay low." And dry humping the hottest man in the entire club certainly isn't that, as much as he kinda sorta wants to.

He draws out the process of dropping your hand. A step back, then two. Really digging his feet in as your fingers threaten to unlace. Jason's capturing your beauty under the flashing, dim lights. Your petulantly unsatisfied expression especially. You're way too cute. "Just have fun with your friends, yeah? I'll be around, but don't wait up, babe."

Your attention shifts before he's even out of view, and your easy smile returns. Jason appreciates that about you.

Now, for this bad guy. Man, with so many drunk people stumbling around, he's in for a long night.

The arrest is made, and Dick hauls the fucker off to the station just in time for Jason to glimpse you stumbling out of the club. A few friendly faces right behind. That's...good. Good. He thinks for a long moment as you all fight over who's calling a taxi. Well, he's already in his civies, isn't he? The family shouldn't need anything else from him tonight.

Jason clears his throat and puts on a face of bravado before approaching. "I got my bike around the block, babe. You ready to go?" Around you, your friends gasp and whine. How could you? But you feign ignorance, far too pleased to see your boyfriend sooner rather than later, like he had made you expect. You rush your goodbyes before running along hand in hand with your boyfriend. Laughing the whole way.

Now? Is he gonna let you fuck him now? You plead, crowding him against the motorcycle. "At home, hotshot. Jesus." He lets you have his helmet and jacket to cover up with, and drives just under the speed limit the whole way home. He's torn between batting your hands or just letting you have your fun as you grope him, but decides on the former since you're likely to fall off in the midst of your clouded judgement.

But seriously, you jerk, his chest is sensitive.

You practically drool the whole way into his back, but Jason guides you up to your apartment just fine. He's your old, good, reliable after all. You're on him the second the door closes, as expected. Jason closes his eyes as he leans into you, sinking into the feeling of your loving body hot against his own. He isn't nearly as...'easy' to work up as you are, but he's also not in the mood to turn you down.

Your tongue is persistent, as it is sloppy. Sliding both in and out of his mouth, wrapping around his own, mixing your saliva together. One of your hands makes its way down to his belt buckle, but at your drunk fumbling, he momentarily takes the reins. There's nothing awkward about it, and you take the time to strip yourself before you two find your way down onto the couch. Jason ditches just for a moment to grab some lube and the condom box (because he's allergic to doing it raw).

By the time that he's prepped and you're suited up, you find that the best position against your spinning head is just to have Jason ride you. His thick thighs slot over your own, and the moan you harmonize as he slides down your length is nothing short of melodic. His back is towards you, giving you ample space to knead and palm at his ass cheeks. Not only is it muscular and heavy, but it's also dimpled on both sides! Super cute, super sexy.

"Fuck..." Jason's eyes flutter. Blindly, he reaches backwards for stability. Straight posture with a cock deep in his ass- impressive. Jason moves slowly, both out of preference and your own comfort. Each roll of his hips is measured to take the same amount of your length as he did previously. You poke and prod at his rim, smiling to yourself as it puckers. "Here, touch here instead." Jason pants, pulling one of your wrists to his own front.

Your clammy hand around his base is heavenly, and Jason makes a game out of balancing between the two pleasures evenly. Who knew that a man so beefy could be so agile?

You're still out of it, though, so you don't hold out nearly as long as you typically do. Hell, you don't even give Jason a warning before you finish. Not totally unsuprising to the man, so he doesn't give you much hell for it, only scoffing slightly. Still, he keeps your hand on his cock, using it to jerk himself off while he sits on your softening one. "Hah, ah, ah, ah," He grunts a little more freely than he normally does too, knowing that you're far too dizzy to really tease him for it. Only murmuring about how beautiful he is.

Jason catches most of his seed in your palm before carefully standing off you. You're practically asleep already as he cleans, but that's fine. He supplies a soft kiss and a pat on the shoulder before you're out.

It doesn't matter when you started, or why, just that you do...and that it feels really fucking good. You fumble with getting your hands on practically anything you can to make those sweet, sweet incisions. Box cutters, exacto knives, kitchen knives; anything and everything is free game if it's in reach of your desperate, grimy paws. The burn is heaven, unlike anything else.

Then descended your angel, your light, your very reason for being. Tim was just like you in that very same way. With gnarly and jagged cuts weighing down his sleeves. His pain was so much different than yours, but together you lost yourselves in a romantic misery. Your hands always drift there. Peeking just under the cuff links of his dress shirts and button-ups. Just a tease...just a taste.

The pleasure has always been shameful, but with your boyfriend in tow, it somehow simultaneously doubled and loosened. Your relationship is an echo chamber of bad decisions, and neither of you would have it any other way. Only, you feel like the parasitic monster who's leeched onto Tim's back. Murmuring the worst of things into his reddening ears. Cut more, go deeper, patch sloppier. Pick. Dig. Repeat. How your stomach twists and constrains with a hot fire whenever he sways.

The sight makes a whirlwind in your heart. On one end, it's terrible that he commonly reaches such lows alongside you, and on the other? You just want to take the blade yourself and see how far Tim's willing to go for your sake. He's always had this wet dog nature to him, when he isn't dressing up a front for the cameras and magazines. Greasy hair, tired eyes, a shake to his limbs he can't quiet stablize. Maybe that misery is what drew you to him in the first place. Maybe that mirror existed for himself within you. Either way, his scars match yours, though in a lighter frequency.

Deeper.

Deeper.

You want to dig deeper.

Another divine wish of yours is granted in the job that Tim fulfills through Gotham's nights. The details are fuzzy; he refuses to share them all, but they leave him wounded. Exposed. Cut.

One night, he stumbles back into the apartment clutching his arm. He's stumbling about, running into door frames and countertops, only for you to scrounge up the first aid kit for him. It's more of a medical box, really. Tim goes through it all so quick. Bandages, gauze...oh, he needs stitches. That...wow.

You try not to stare; you really do. The perversion stirs in your gut, bubbling desperately in an attempt to get you to vomit it all out. By a hair, you withhold yourself. He's hurt, and not in the fun way. Even...if you are having fun with it. Tim notices, because of course he does. He notices everything. From the way your fingers twitch at your sides, how your bottom lip catches on your teeth, to the constant stream of swallows you have to bypass to shoulder any semblance of normalcy.

Tim's never been normal, though, even before his parents died.

He feigns ignorance all the while. Entering another round of passionate intimacy with you under him this time around. That's when the blade emerges, and your eyes immediately zero in on it. For you or for him? Your gaze flickers so rapidly between him and it that it's almost dizzying.

"Watch." Is all he murmurs before dragging its glinting tip against the meat of his forearm. It leaves a thickening stream of red in its wake. With red dots flickering into existence after it. "Pretty, right? Aren't I?" Tim murmurs against your lips, face as intensely red as his stare. "I know how much you like it." Is he panting? Everything's so warm; it's hard to differentiate.

"C'mon, you can feel baby." He grinds against you, his cock hard and thick against the slick of your thigh. "Taste."

Your eyes practically roll back at the heady sensation. It's not a new taste per se; you've dipped into your own before, but this is much different. Hardly comparable, in fact. The metallic saltyness is just so strong. So thin yet ever flowing. Knowing that there's an infinite stream of it just beyond the barrier of skin has you gnawing your teeth. "That's it...yeah." Tim shakily laughs. God, you're too cute.

He ruts against that crevice while you soak your face in his essence. It's a right mess out of an arguably mild cut. It hurts, god it hurts, to have the wet muscle of your tongue searching for more along his wound. Dragging over bumpy scabs and old scars alike.

"Fuck," He gasps, pulling his arm away momentarily before licking into your mouth from your chin. Tasting himself on your lips like this...shit.

"You wanna turn, baby?" Tim then grins, offering you the blunt end of the knife. "Can't be hogging all the fun."

!!------------------------------------!!

He smiles to himself, regardless of the face of his anger, as he watches you from above. The hour is late in Bludhaven, and you stupidly seem to think it's the perfect time for a midnight stroll. He knows you know it's dangerous, and he can't help but find your defiance of his advice insulting. You think yourself so skilled as not to be attacked in the middle of the night? In the same city that requires someone of his skill level to protect? Shameless.

Ah...but still, you really are a sight. Ignorant to his ever-watchful eye. Dick really shouldn't be allowing himself to be distracted like this on patrol, but everything else fades away when you enter the picture.

His landing is silent when he drops down behind you and holds his breath just in case so that he can creep ever closer. Is that the new scent he bought for you? How sweet. If Dick isn't careful, he might just pop a boner at the thought alone.

"All on your lonesome, beautiful?"

He laughs as you fight, giving you all the space you need to breathe while subtly crowding you away from the edge of the street. "What's up? Hm? Thought you said you were staying in tonight." It's said with a light tone, but his meaning is anything but. Were you lying to him? This is what he gets for being so trusting. Just what is Dick going to do with you?

"I see...well, allow this humble public servant to escort you then," He bows, cheekily extending his hand for you. The act is practiced; it has to be while he's in uniform. Still, when you lace your fingers with his, Dicks grip is tighter than it would be if you were anyone else. He stands a little closer. Walks a little faster.

"...I'll come over later, kay?" Dick murmurs in your ear just before sending you on your way. "Goodnight!"

When Dick slips into the apartment early that morning, you're still asleep. He showers, goes through your phone, your location history, and prepares breakfast for when you wake up. Humming to himself. Thinking to himself. Always thinking.

He's angry, but that's fine.

Dick's fine.

"Mornin' sunshine." He breathes, smiling against your temple when you stir. The food is wrapped and ready to eat, tucked away in the microwave, but Dick has his mind set on something. He rolls you over on your back, smothering down your sleep-warm skin with his lips. "C'mon, baby, hips up. Can you work with me here?" Passively, you do. It makes him grin.

He's an expert at getting your cock hard and in his mouth. Sucking and pumping with the level of skill that servicing you a hundred times over has granted him. Dick knows you like being tugged on here, pinched there, tongued right...

"Ah!" He playfully squeals when your legs kick up and squeeze around his shoulders and neck. "Js me, easy." Dick laughs, patting the side of your hip as you properly come to your senses. "Relax...relax..."

The irritation simmering deep beneath his bones loosens the tighter your grip on him becomes. Yeah, that's right. He's the one giving you pleasure. Who's making you squirm and moan. No one else could ever dream of making you feel this good.

"Ah, baby," He drools, purposefully licking a messy line up the side of your cock. Dick knows he looks good, and he's flexing all his best angles to entice you the best he can. Arched back and all. The heart eyes are merely a plus. "Baby, I missed you, yeah? Teasing me like that while I'm at work...naughty." He's panting as if breathless; it does wonders for your ego. It's a good look on him. "Want you in me so bad, been thinkin' 'bout it all night."

The grip you sink into his dark hair says everything. He let's you guide his body up and over yours, groaning the whole way through. "Reward me?" He gasps softly.

"God, fuck yes!" Dick squeals once you find your pace inside of him. He's taken your spot of being crushed on the bed with his knees up to his ears. Your energy is still low, having just woken up, but in this position you're hitting his special spot no matter what, and it just feels so good. You love him, you love him, you love him-!

In the midst of his fit, he lets his impulses get the better of him, and he digs his nails into the flesh of your back for support. Once they've latched, he can't bring himself to let go. The pleasure of marking you is almost just as divine as the drill of your cock in his hole. Dick usually prefers to keep things much sweeter, but he's just so tired, so high-strung, so...fuck! He can't focus at all! "Yes, yes, I want yer cum so bad, ah, ah..."

Split open, owned like this, is the only real way Dick can reassure himself that your love for him is true. Maybe it's shallow; maybe he really should walk the talk and better himself, but he doesn't care.

"...made breakfast, if you want it, hun." He pants when you finally dislodge. His arm is thrown over his eyes, but he's peeking at you anyway. Staring at the stinging burn he's scratched onto your upper back. No blood, but maybe one day.

He's...nice enough, cute too (with a great ass, Bernard is sure to remind you). You were a little bumed out when they started dating, if you were being honest. You always had a little puppy crush on the blonde. You expect the casual touches, the late-night calls, and the hand holding to stop, but they never do. Is...Bernard side-piecing you? A quick peck on the lips from his boyfriend as you're walking out the door reaffirms otherwise, though. Ah, okay. You can work with that.

That's the rewind on how you became the unofficial but totally real third in their relationship. The three of you have never had the 'talk' but you've made out on the couch with one another more times than you could count. It'd be weirder if you weren't a poly couple at this point.

The next thing you learn about Tim is that he's still always busy as fuck. At least you know why now: something to do with taking over Wayne Enterprises from his adoptive father, the Bruce Wayne. You don't know what kind of luck this guy runs on. Born rich, adopted by richer, and given the main income out of all his siblings? If you play your cards right, which you have full intention of doing regardless, you'll be set for life. That's all to say that Bernards pleasure is often left in your hands.

Half of the time, the apartment is a post sex show by the time Tim comes home. Clothes thrown about, cushions with suspicious stains, and of course his two loves knocked out, sweaty, tangled up in one another. Condom boxes after condom boxes will be replaced before he even gets the chance of opening one. It's kind of depressing...and really sexy. Tim's always been a lurker, a watcher, a voyeur. It's only fitting.

"Hey-ah, hey baby!" Bernard will purr, head sticking outside the shower curtain. His face is flushed, and he looks more than a little glossy in the eyes.

"Hey, having fun?" Tim muses back; there's only time for him to brush his teeth before he has to run off to work. Again. Oh well.

"Yeah...ah! Mh, haha." Bern leans back onto you, where your tongue is digging deliciously into his ass. "Ah, shit, Timmy, you had [name]'s tongue yet? Fuck, it works so good."

"Mh, not yet. I should make it back before dinner, but no promises." Tim manages between mouthfuls of foaming toothpaste. He spits, gargles, and spits again before turning back. "Maybe tonight then, yeah?"

Tim shares a sweet kiss with a drooling Bernard...and a long, passionate one with you, tasting the blonde's essence on your tongue before finally slipping out. "He's so cute, isn't he?" You nod.

The Wayne heir would feel a little cucked if not for how ferociously the two of you climb over him the second you can. That way, he can rest easy knowing that even in his common absence, both of you are satisfied and content in the arms of one another.