#cheetahleopard

Tim doesn't wear his silver chain that night. Jason had expressed concerns when he found out how often Tim was wearing it (i.e., all the time), and for how long he'd been doing that (i.e. since he was old enough to go to school). Tim had wanted to brush Jason off, but he'd traced the slow-to-heal line near-branded into Tim's neck with an almost aching tenderness. So he's trying it out.

The only problem is, he hasn't rawdogged a full moon basically ever. So he could blame what happens on that. But he knows that wouldn't be strictly true.

It's not like he doesn't know about his own knot. Horny is one of the approximately three emotions he feels during the peak of the full moon, so he's-- familiar. With it. The knot.

He knows how it feels when it's about to blow, knows how long it takes to go down. He's never-- with anyone before, he and Steph never really got that far, and with Jason--

His memories of that first time are hazed in blood and pain and want, but he remembers it more than Jason thinks he does. He knows Jason didn't clock that particular aspect of his, uh. Anatomy.

It clearly freaked Jason out that Tim had trouble remembering, to the point that he's nixed all sexual activities since. No matter how much Tim has tried to convince him otherwise, he can't quite believe that Tim wanted everything that happened. And then some.

By the time they get here, naturally, Tim is a little pent up. A month of start and stops had him practically whining in Jason's lap, wishing Jason would let him touch, would let them taste each other, would let either of them bite. Jason hasn't fed from Tim since that night, and it's everything Tim wants, and been denied.

So when Jason flips them around, pushing Tim's legs open and sinking down to his knees between them, all remaining blood rushes to Tim's dick, leaving none behind for his brain to possibly remember to warn Jason that he's packing something extra that Jason might want to be careful about putting in his mouth. Maybe.

It makes his heart race, his palms sweat… and his cunt throb. It’s been achy since they left city limits and he realized that oh yeah, they were really doing this. Tim and Kon aren’t any better. Kon’s been tenting his jeans for almost as long as Jason’s been wet, and though Jason hasn’t been able to get a proper look at Tim’s crotch, he’s willing to bet he is, too.

The sound of a zipper brings him back to reality. Kon’s already popped the button on his jeans, and as soon as the zipper is out of the way, he lifts up, shimmying them down his legs just far enough to free his cock. It springs out of his underwear; thinner and shorter than Tim’s, but with a deeper curve that drags against Jason’s walls and makes him see stars. He gets wetter, too; his slit already dripping, making flushed skin glisten.

Jason’s legs try to spread automatically, but there’s no room. He bites back a pathetic whine, and feels his flush get darker. He doesn’t have permission to touch himself, so he curls his hands around Kon’s ankles instead.

“Is he drooling already?” Tim asks, above his head.

“You know he is,” Kon says.

Jason squirms. He loves-hates when they talk about him like he’s not here; like he only exists for their entertainment, their pleasure.

Tim laughs, warm and rich. “Cockslut,” he says affectionately, and oh—Jason’s cunt throbs again. His face warms even more. There’s a light touch on the back of his head. “Go on, sweetheart. We know you’re dying to.”

He does whine this time—but he doesn’t try to deny it any more than that. He is dying to. His mouth is full of spit in anticipation. He has to swallow it down so he can mind his manners first, though, greeting Kon’s cock with a soft kiss to the head. It smears pre on his lips, and he licks it off, humming at the taste. Kon always tastes sharp. It’s even better when licked directly off the skin; there’s an added tingle, like mild static electricity. It makes it both extra fun, and extra challenging, to swallow him down.

Kon tangles his fingers in Jason’s hair. He doesn’t pull, not yet, but Jason nudges up into the weight of his palm before he presses more kisses down the side of him, following it all the way to the root. Thick, coarse hair tickles his cheeks, his nose. Kon smells strongest here. He inhales deeply, and lets it sit on his tongue for a moment. Then he kisses and licks his way back up. This time he pauses every so often to suckle on a vein—and then, at that spot just below the head of his cock. He teases it with his tongue, too; prodding it with the tip, flicking it.

Kon’s hand tightens in his hair. The tug at his roots always feels like it shoots straight to his pussy, his nipples. His skin tingles. He stops teasing, moving up to the spongy head of him again. Then he presses his tongue directly against Kon’s slit, lapping the pre from the source of him. His tongue tingles.

“Fuck, Jason—” Kon moans, throwing his head back. Jason doesn’t get to appreciate the column of his throat because at the same time, Kon pulls his hair and makes his toes curl, his eyes roll back. He has to swallow before he can start again; spit pooling in his mouth. He nuzzles Kon’s cock, flicks his tongue against the underside. Then he kisses and licks his way down again. If he had more room, he’d mouth at Kon’s balls—take them in his mouth one at a time to suck and prod; maybe use his hand to tease at his perineum. But he can’t, not like this.

He can cup them with his hand, though, so when he makes his way back up to the tip, that’s what he does. He takes the head of him into his mouth to suckle, and with his hand, cups his balls in his hands. Here, Kon is larger than Tim. He’d never be able to pick a favorite cock between the two of them, but he does love the way Kon fills him, whether he’s swallowing it down or being filled by it.

It’s nice, he thinks, to go slow. He doesn’t always, with Kon. Kon likes it fast, likes it hard. (So does Jason.) But getting to worship him like this—to feel the softness of his cock against his cheek, his lips, to suckle at him while watching the play of pleasure on his face… It’s good.

He’s good. He hopes. But the only one who can decide that is Tim. His eyes are heavy on him. On them. He likes to watch—and god, but Jason hopes they’re giving him a good show.

He bobs his head, taking more of Kon. The tingling spreads over his cheeks, his tongue, his gums. It’s a lovely, bright sensation; not painful, just… present. He wants it in his throat. Wants to gag himself on Kon’s cock—wants Kon to grip his head and fuck him.

But he has to earn that, first.

He bobs his head again, taking a little more as he rolls Kon’s balls in his hand; fingers rubbing at the base of them. Once more—and then he’s a little over halfway there. Drool is starting to slip around his lips. He tightens them, swallows; a wet, slurping sound that makes him want to hide his face and also wish he had something, anything, he could clench around. Kon’s fingers tighten in his hair again, tugging.

“How does he feel?” he hears Tim ask.

“Unh— Hot,” Kon manages. “Wet. Soft.”

Fingers trail over his spine. Tim, he thinks. “Swallow around him again.” His voice is so soft it sounds like a suggestion. Jason knows better. He obeys, and Kon’s hips twitch. His moan is muffled. Jason looks up, finds his other hand pressed hard against his mouth. Tim twirls his fingers in a heart shape on his back. “Good.”

Jason gives Kon’s balls a final squeeze, then pulls back until just the tip is in his mouth again. He swirls his tongue around it, suckles at it. Then he lets his jaw loosen, his throat lax, and sinks down. He manages to nearly swallow him whole before he gags, tears springing to his eyes, and has to pull back up.

“Greedy,” Kon says, breathless. His voice is already starting to roughen.

“Gagging for it,” Tim agrees slyly. Jason would flip him off if he didn’t think Tim would pull him off. He doesn’t know how he’d be punished, but Tim’s creative. He just knows he wouldn’t get to finish sucking Kon’s dick until he’d properly repented, and right now, that’s all he cares about.

One more try. Jason lifts up, bobs his head, and then— He moans. His throat vibrates around Kon’s cock, making him moan too. His knees press hard against Jason’s shoulders as legs try to clamp shut and he pulls hard at Jason’s hair. Tim grips the back of Jason’s neck.

“Stay.”

Jason stays. He breathes through his nose—slow, careful breaths. Soon, he relaxes. His shoulders loosen. More of his weight settles against Kon’s legs, the backseat. Kon settles too. His legs fall open again, as much as they can, and his fingers uncurl. He cards them through Jason’s hair; blunt nails scratching his scalp in a way that makes him want to purr.

He floats there for a while, unable to do much else but breathe and drool and swallow every now and then.

“Okay,” Tim says—still in that soft voice. “You can give him what he wants, now. I think he’s ready.”

Yes, Jason thinks—and then Kon grips his hair again, pulling his head up and off his cock; the head resting against his bottom lip. He only has a moment to mourn the loss before Kon yanks him back down, his hips lifting to meet him halfway. Jason grips his ankles so tightly he’d bruise a human man; moaning low in his chest. Kon’s breath hitches, his hips stutter, but he doesn’t stop. He sets a brutal, punishing pace. It doesn’t take long for tears and snot to start dripping down his face. It’s hard to breathe. Jason sucks in air whenever he can, but still, he feels light-headed. Dizzy.

It’s euphoric.

He wants, so badly, to rub his cock. Like this, it’s hard to remember why he shouldn’t. His arm twitches, but Tim, eagle-eyed, sees everything. He grabs it. “No.”

Jason whines, or tries to. He tangles his fingers in Kon’s pant leg.

Kon’s thrusts start to stutter. It’s the only warning Jason has—and then Kon buries himself in Jason’s throat and comes with a shout. Despite his best efforts, Jason doesn’t manage to swallow all of it. He chokes, sputters, gags; making even more of a mess of himself than he already is. Kon holds him there until he’s done; one hand on the back of Jason’s neck, the other gripping his balls. Jason takes it; too far gone to even be embarrassed about the awful, lewd sounds he’s making.

Eventually, Kon slumps against the seat, his cock going soft in Jason’s mouth. Jason keeps sucking on it until someone pulls him off. He huffs despite his aching throat, and goes to pillow his head on Kon’s thigh, but the hand in his hair stops him.

“Shh—let me look at you.”

Tim’s other hand—wet—cups his jaw, tilting his face up into the sunlight. Jason wrinkles his nose, but allows it, shutting his eyes against the light. Tim likes him like this; ruined, his face splotchy, his eyes rimmed red, and his face wet with cum and snot and tears. He likes it even more when they’re real tears. Sure enough— “So pretty,” Tim says. “Alright, sweetheart. You can rest now.” He helps guide Jason’s head down to Kon’s thigh. “You did well. Both of you.” He pets Jason’s hair, and then he hears the seat creak, feels Kon shift. He doesn’t have to look to know they’re kissing above him, though he does despite how his eyelids droop.

Kon and Tim kiss like they do most things: in sync, always anticipating the way the other moves, always aware of what the other wants. Jason and Kon kiss like fighting; a battle of dominance Kon almost always wins eventually, because Jason lets him, because he wants him to, even if he could only recently admit that out loud. Tim and Jason kiss both ways, but more often Tim kisses Jason like he wants to eat him; like he can lick into his mouth and devour him. All good kisses. But Jason only gets to watch one of them.

They pull away when Tim starts to get breathless—mostly because Kon never does, even if he sounds like it. He doesn’t need to breathe.

Then Tim looks down at Jason. “Ten minutes,” he tells him. “And then it’s my turn.”

Jason’s thighs clench. “Yeah,” he croaks.

“Wait,” Kon says. His hand settles on Jason’s shoulder. “I wanna see how wet he got from my cock first.”

Jason would blush if his face wasn’t already red. As it is, he turns his face into Kon’s thigh.

“Oh, good idea,” Tim says as the gentle grip of Kon’s TTK wraps around his body, pulling him back up onto the seat. “I bet he’s soaked.”

Jason squirms, but doesn’t make any real effort to pull away while Kon pops the button on his pants, using a mixture of his hands and TTK to get them open. Then he slips his hand inside. His fingers are rough, dry, and just on the edge of too much as they drag against his folds.

“Oh yeah,” Kon says roughly, pulling his hand out. Jason whines, canting his hips like that might bring his hand back. He’s ignored. “Look.”

Jason can’t help but peek out. Kon holds his hand up to the light; the sun catching a thick strand of slick stretching between his fingers as he spreads them. Tim grabs his wrist, examining them—and then he pulls them into his mouth. Jason whimpers, and Kon laughs.

“I don’t think someone wants to wait for ten minutes,” he teases.

Tim’s cheeks hollow, and then he pulls off of Kon’s hand with a soft ‘pop’. “That so?”

Jason squeezes his thighs together and nods. He’d finally managed to ignore the pulsing in his cunt, but Kon’s touch had brought it back.

Tim’s eyes meet Kon’s for a second, and then he says—”Tell us what you are first.”

He whines. Tim just looks even more amused. Jason tries his best pleading eyes next. About… 70/30 chance they work, odds not in his favor. Tim’s eyes flick to Kon again. There’s no verbal exchange but clearly something passed between them because a second later Kon pinches his nipple, hard. He yelps, arching. Kon holds it for 1—2—3 seconds, and then lets go. His dick throbs in time with his nipple.

“What are you?” Tim asks again, more firmly this time.

He squirms, then finally mumbles, “A cockslut.”

“Louder.”

Jason scowls—though Tim and Kon would call it a pout. Assholes. “A cockslut,” he says. It doesn’t sound as begrudging as he’d like. He pretends that’s because his voice sounds like he swallowed gravel.

“Better,” Tim says. No good boy. Jason pouts scowls harder. Tim catches his eye. “Do what you’re told the first time. Pants off, baby. Underwear too. Then you can come up here and ride me.”

Ugh, and Jason thought he was going to get fucked. He listens anyway. Kon helps him strip. Slick drenches his thighs, and his cock sticks out proudly; a whole two inches of growth. Kon brushes his fingers against it ‘accidentally’ when they’re working his pants down his thighs and he shudders, biting his lip to stifle a moan.

“Don’t tease,” he begs.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry, but he kisses Jason’s shoulder, and there are no more incidents, so he’ll let it slide for now. He uses one hand to tug his t-shirt down and hold it there as he makes the precarious climb into the passenger seat, not trusting in the strength of Tim’s tinted windows to keep him from flashing any unlikely passerby. The passenger seat isn’t much more comfortable than the floorboards pressed all the way forward like this, but he only has to stay long enough for Kon to scoot over and Tim to push his seat back.

Hi cock is already out, Jason sees, and slicked up with lube. Tim adds more anyway; saliva pools in Jason’s mouth as he watches him stroke it. It’s two or so inches longer than Kon’s, and a bit girthier too. If he loves how much cum Kon fills him with, then he loves how Tim just fills him. A little more slick dribbles out of his pussy.

When Tim is good and slick, he beckons him over. “Wait— No, facing the other way.”

Jason thought he couldn’t blush anymore. Turns out he was wrong. “What?”

Tim smiles beatifically. “C’mon, sweetheart. It’s a lovely view.”

It is a nice view, albeit not one that gets appreciated often. Gotham is splayed out before them; an isle surrounded by glittering bay. Despite everything she’s done to clean up her smog, a miasma still hangs over her—but that’s beautiful too, in it’s strange way.

“Fine,” he says, and shifts until he’s hovering over Tim’s lap—not an easy task!—, his hands braced on the steering wheel. Tim settles one hand on his hip, and wraps the other around his cock, holding himself steady as Jason sinks down.

The last time he was fucked was last night—Kon in his pussy, Tim in his ass. Still. His muscles have tightened up again since then, and without any fingers to stretch him first, he’s forced to go slow. Sweat beads around his hairline, the small of his back. His thighs shake. He’s panting with effort. It would be so easy to just. Drop down. They’re both slick enough.

Finally, the trembles spreading to his arms, he thinks, Fuck it, and lets go.

Tim shouts, barely raising his hand to muffle it in time. Jason’s not so lucky. He shrieks, gripping the wheel so tightly it creaks. He’s so— He doesn’t think he’s ever been so fucking full in his life. His cunt twitches, spasms, trying to adjust around the hard, pulsing length spearing him open. Tim lays a hand on Jason’s belly and presses, guiding him back to rest against his chest. Tim is barely able to hook his chin over Jason’s shoulder.

He doesn’t move his hand. He keeps pressing instead, making that feeling of fullness grow until Jason twitches, moaning weakly.

Tim laughs low in his ear. “Too much?” he asks, rubbing slow circles against his abdomen. (Over his womb, Jason thinks, and clenches around Tim’s cock again.) “Too bad. You shouldn’t have been such a greedy cockslut.”

He whines.

“Shh,” Tim hushes him. He presses two fingers against Jason’s lips. Jason doesn’t hesitate to swallow them. “There you go.” Maybe later he’ll be embarrassed by how quickly having something to suck on soothes him, but right now he just lets it happen.

Slowly, his body opens to Tim; his passage re-learning the shape of his cock, the way they fit together. Kon is watching them openly, having pushed the passenger seat until it was folded forward as far as it could go. When he notices Jason looking at him, he offers his hand. Jason tangles their fingers together.

“Want me to rub his cock?” Kon offers.

“When I start moving,” Tim agrees.

Kon kisses his hand, right over the ring on his thumb.

Tim, the asshole, doesn’t wait until he’s fully ready to start moving. It doesn’t hurt, but Jason would have been content to sit a little longer, basking. Not that he’s going to complain. Not when Tim knows just how to angle his hips, even like this—and definitely not when Kon envelops his cock with his TTK.

The touch is light at first; moving in gentle circles around the base of it, teasing him until he squeezes Kon’s hand and begs, “Please.” Then it starts to pump, stroking him from root to tip, focusing most of the sensation on the underside. Jason’s head tips back, Tim’s fingers slipping from between his mouth. It’s just as well. He can’t close it anymore—it hangs open, slack, low, broken moans escaping his ruined throat.

Tim’s hand wraps around it; fingers still wet against his skin. He doesn’t squeeze. Just rests it there, his other hand on Jason’s belly. Claiming. Possessive as he rocks up into him, grinding against that spot somewhere deep inside him.

His thighs shake. He’s not going to last long like this. He tries to warn them, but all that comes out is a low, strangled sound.

“I know,” Tim tells him, lips against his neck. “Come whenever you want. But I’m not going to stop until I do.”

He nods, and Tim kisses him—then sucks a bruise there, in the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. Then he trails his hand up his belly to his chest. He cups his pec, squeezing it, rolling it in his hand. Then he pinches his nipple, tugging it the way Kon had earlier. He holds it longer. 1—2—3—4—5— and as soon as he lets go, he sinks his teeth into Jason’s shoulder. At the same time, Kon does… something… with his TTK and—

Jason comes open-mouthed and gasping.

As promised, Tim doesn’t stop. He fucks him through it. Kon keeps stroking his dick, too, and between the two of them they prolong his orgasm for what feels like forever before it stops. His dick is throbbing somehow worse than before. He can feel every beat of his racing heart between his legs, even after Kon stops touching him.

Tim is still going. Every drag of his cock has Jason shivering. His nerves feel like they’re on fire. It’s awful. It’s perfect. Especially when Tim slows down, his thrusts turning harder, making Jason clench and shudder. With that slow, maddening, wonderful pace, he wrings a second orgasm out of Jason before—finally—he spills inside him.

This time it’s Kon who murmurs, “Good boy.” He kisses the back of Jason’s hand again.

“Rest now,” Tim mumbles, his hand fumbling until it finds theirs’. With the ease of practice, Kon and Jason part their palms, capturing Tim’s hand between them. His fingers wind around Jason’s wrist to anchor him there, and then, so conjoined, they rest them on the center console. Together.

Outside, behind Lookout Point, the sun burns, painting them in gold.