#nakki

Tim puts his hands on Kon’s hips and presses a brief kiss to the small of the other’s back, and Kon makes a startled, breathy noise, just barely jolting under his mouth. Like he wasn’t expecting the attention, maybe. 

“Let us get you out of these,” Tim hums, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Kon’s leggings. “They’re a bit of a mess right now.” 

Kon makes a mumbly little embarrassed noise and shivers as Tim slides his pants down over his hips, then tilts them back just a little bit into his hands and makes another noise as he does, this one shaky and uneven and harder to classify. Tim presses another kiss against his spine and gets a little shiver for it. 

This version of Kon does technically wear underwear, Tim learns. He has a black jockstrap on under his suit, which definitely looks good on him and definitely makes Tim want to feel up those glutes of steel. And fuck up, maybe. 

That would be extremely counterintuitive in terms of not riling Kon up again, though, so he’ll just put a pin in that for now, Tim decides. 

“Sorry, did you want to leave the belts on?” he asks his other self “curiously” as he pulls Kon’s pants down to his knees and leaves them there to go back and pull down the jockstrap just under his balls the exact moment his other self reflexively glances down to said belts–and, therefore, down to Kon’s newly-exposed cock. 

Tim is not even slightly sorry. 

“Jesus,” his other self chokes. 

“Cute, right?” Tim hums, nuzzling the small of Kon’s back for a moment before tilting just enough to the side to spare his other self a smirk. “You should see it when he gets excited.” 

“I fucking hate myself,” his other self says faintly, not lifting his eyes at all. “Fuck, Kon, you’re–just, fuck.” 

“I–I just–” Kon stutters, a shudder tripping down his spine, and Tim very gently bites that tremor. Kon shudders harder. “Fuck. Sorry, I–I just–” 

“Oh,” Tim realizes. “No, sweetheart, that’s my fault. Didn’t think about how excited having both of me together might get you. Do you need to come before you can settle down enough to take a break, baby?” 

“Please,” Kon chokes immediately, not even stuttering over it. So okay, he definitely needs to come before he can settle down, Tim notes. 

“Then we’ll take care of that for you,” he promises, slipping a hand between Kon’s legs from behind to pet along the length of his taint with his gloved fingertips. Kon chokes, his body jerking forward against Tim’s other self’s. 

It is very hard not to find that reaction fucking adorable, so Tim doesn’t bother trying. 

“Don’t get touched here much?” he assumes, stroking more gently along his taint. 

“N-not–not ever,” Kon chokes. He’s gripping Tim’s other self’s biceps, but not leaning any of his weight into him at all. 

“‘Ever’?” Tim’s other self repeats a little faintly, and Tim very lightly curls the textured fingertips of his gloves in just behind Kon’s balls. They’re rough grips–something meant to catch on brick and concrete and grappling lines; meant to keep him from falling, and keep whatever he’s holding in his hands. But Kon’s invulnerable, so “rough” is something a little different to him. 

His Kon always says he likes the texture, though he definitely means “loves” when he says it. 

“R-Rob,” Kon chokes, his body jerking forward again–just barely, but definitely–before he catches himself and tries to steady himself again. 

Fucking. Adorable. 

“You can lean into us, sweetheart,” Tim tells him, stroking in a little tighter with his fingertips. He doesn’t want to overwhelm Kon too much, but he doesn’t want to tease him too much either. “Go ahead. You know we won’t let you fall.” 

“Please please please,” Kon rasps out shakily, and leans forward just as immediately as he’d said that first “please” when Tim had asked him if he needed to get off again. Tim’s other self grabs onto him–locks an arm around his waist and grabs his hip with the other hand–and Tim decides to be helpful and tugs that hand down to grip Kon’s ass instead, and Kon’s breath hitches. 

“Fuck,” Tim’s other self says roughly, and Kon lets go of his biceps a little jerkily and wraps his arms around his neck instead, the gesture heavy and clumsy and uncertain and his head not quite ducked. 

“R-Rob,” he stutters again. Tim thinks it’s a shame he can’t see his expression right now and hopes his other self is appreciating it the way it deserves. “I–i-is this–” 

“Fuck,” Tim’s other self repeats, then kisses him again, quick and tight, squeezing his arm around his waist and digging his fingers into his ass. “You need it again? You can have it. Just–he knows how to touch you, so just enjoy it.” 

“Rob,” Kon whines, then buries his face in Tim’s other self’s shoulder as he leans all his weight forward into him. 

Well, that’s a pretty picture, Tim reflects. And also tilts Kon’s hips a little better for easy-access for him, which is a very pretty picture. So he pets the other’s taint a little heavier, pressing up to give his prostate a bit of external stimulation–to get Kon a little used to what having it stimulated actually feels like. 

Apparently what it feels like to Kon is “a lot”, given the way Kon whines and pushes his hips back into the petting, clumsy and awkward but blatantly pleading.