#tauriawrites

The kiss is fierce; heated, all teeth and tongue. Damian's hands slip under the coat of his tux, fisting in the silk of his dress shirt. He tries, at first, to match Tim's punishing pace---but soon enough, he gives up, taking only what Tim gives him.

When Tim pulls away his lips are swollen and shining, chest heaving as he pants. His pupils have blown wide; face flushed. He looks halfway to debauched.

Tim intends to take him all the way there.

He tugs Damian's hair again, just to hear that sweet sound again. Damian gives it to him, eyes fluttering.

Then he lets go, loosening Damian's tie and undoing the top three buttons of his shirt with practiced ease.

If there is one thing Tim loves about Damian's growth spurt, it's that Tim is at the perfect height to suck marks beneath his collar. He leaves a trail of them. Damian stays quiet, despite the way he shudders and quakes. The only sound he makes are ragged breaths.

When Tim glances up at him, he sees that full lower lip trapped under his teeth.

He smirks, just a little. He so loves testing the baby bat's control. It's so much more fun now that the only blood comes from Damian's nails, raked down his back, or when teeth press a little too deep. (Not that Tim hasn't fantasized a time two, about all the fun they could have with a well-kept knife---but. Damian is still young, and there will be time for that later.)

He kisses the last mark; the tenderness of the gesture draws another whimper from Damian's throat.

He rises onto the balls of his feet, nipping Damian’s earlobe before whispering, “Hmm… I suppose a little teasing isn’t so bad after all, is it, Dami?”

“Beloved,” Damian breathes; turning his face to tuck his nose against the side of Tim’s head. “Please.”

Tim steps back, carefully disentangling Damian’s fingers from his shirt, only to thread them with his own. Damian looks thoroughly debauched now. He allows himself a smile, smug and pleased.

“Upstairs, darling. You can wait that long, can't you?" Tim loves to make it sound like he has a choice in the matter.

Damian shivers again; closing his eyes. His hands tighten around Tim's. For a moment, Tim thinks he might say 'no', or the one word that will call the whole thing off---

But he doesn't.

Instead his eyes open again, and he nods, a gentle dip of his chin. "Yes, beloved."

Damian says 'beloved' the same way others would say 'sir', or 'master.' Reverence wraps around the word; snaking between each syllable. Tim's toes curl, and his smile grows. He wonders if he looks as hungry as he feels.

He thinks, by the expression on Damian's face, he might.

Jason is steps away from the kitchen when he hears it—a whimper, almost inaudible in the darkness. It’s followed by the sharp scent of distress, turning pleasant clove-and-smoke into something burnt and ashy.

His heartstrings twist painfully; feet moving almost without his permission, carrying him into the living room where Jay is curled up into a tight ball on the couch. Like this, he looks so much smaller than 6’1. His face is twisted with pain, brow furrowed, face scrunched in a way that compels Jason forward. He stops short of actually touching him. It’s never a good idea to startle a sleeping vigilante… even, or maybe especially, an injured one.

So instead, Jason kneels just out of arm’s reach and unfurls his scent. Clove-and-honey trickles over the burnt-ash scent, and Jason croons, soft and inviting.

Jay’s nose twitches, head turning. He whimpers again; this time with a questioning lilt.

It’s—odd, feeling so protective over someone wearing his face, especially when that someone is currently living through a period in time he’d rather forget. He’s spent years untangling the mess of feelings in his chest. The anger and hurt; hatred and regret. The self-hatred. He’s finally gotten to a point in his life where he’s… maybe okay. Getting thrust back here, even in an alternate dimension…

He’d expected to go through it all again. To take it out on himself, or the boy sharing his face.

But…

All Jason wants to do is bundle him up in a nest. Wrap him in soft blankets, surround him with pillows, and hold him until he stops smelling so hurt. Until he remembers what it’s like to feel safe and warm in the arms of another.

It’s… Jason’s not really sure what to make of the feelings. But he’s been trying to be more—open. And right now, at least, Jay needs someone. There’s no Roy. No Lian. No Kori. No Biz. No bat-pack. Just him.

He shuffles closer, answering the plaintive whimper with another croon; this one coaxing. Come to me , it says. I’ll take care of you . His scent swells with it; inviting and protective and omega-sweet.

Jay twists. His nose twitches again, this time with an adorable snuffle. He uncurls, just a little. He reaches out, obviously questing, so Jason lets him catch his hand. The alpha squeezes him so tightly he thinks he might bruise.

Jason shuffles closer, almost touching the couch. He makes a soft sound in his throat.

Ice blue eyes dart up to meet his as Tim begins to roll up his sleeves. “Lock the doors, Jay,” he says. “We wouldn’t want anyone coming in and seeing you like this, would we?”

The noise Jason makes is strangled. His cock twitches. He has to be red down to his neck, at least. He fumbles for the button on his desk, hitting it clumsily.

Tim doesn’t tease—verbally, at least. Instead, he wraps his hand around Jason's cock; bending his head to lap at the head like a kitten

The sight of him is one of the hottest things Jason's ever seen. His breaths turn shallow; fingers digging into the armrests.

Tim looks up at him—meeting his gaze with his mouth on Jason’s cock. He almost whimpers. “I love the way you taste,” Tim murmurs. There’s nothing Jason can do to stop the shudder that rolls through him, nor the way his teeth sink into his lip.

Fuck. The things Tim does to him.

Tim skims his lips and tongue over Jason’s cock, lavishing it with attention while Jason does his best not to squirm. It’s hard. Tim knows exactly how to drive him wild, and exploits that knowledge ruthlessly, leaving Jason putty in his hands.

Tim hums, pleased as Jason's cock finishes hardening. He kisses the underside, just above his thumb—and then drags his tongue up to the head, drawing a stuttery moan from Jason. The chair creaks under his grip. Tim glances up at him, lust-dark eyes glittering with amusement. Then he closes his lips around the head of Jason’s cock and sucks.

“A-ah!” Jason throws his head back. “F-fuck, Tim,” he whines. Arousal thrums in his veins. 

Tim swirls his tongue and bobs his head, taking more of Jason in his mouth. His hand moves in short jerks, squeezing and slackening like the fluttering of walls around him.

Jason throws his head back, forearm braced over his mouth to muffle the way he moans, embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.

Tim keeps going; enveloping more and more of him with the wet heat of his mouth. Jason can’t help but move, now, little twists of his hips that make the chair squeak beneath him. His breaths come in sharp, rough pants now; broken only by small hitched moans and whimpers. He tangles his hand in Tim's hair, silk strands winding around his fingers. Tim makes soft noises of his own; appreciative hums that make Jason's toes curl.

Finally, his mouth meets his fist, both of them working in tandem; sending wave after wave of pleasure rolling through Jason's veins.

Then—Tim lets go of him, and swallows Jason’s cock.

Only the steady hands on his hips keep him from bucking up into Tim's mouth. His mind is spinning; brain leaking out of his ears—or maybe just his dick. Tim's throat works; the muscles squeezing Jason's cock. He moans, low and deep, pressing his arm harder against his face.

Eventually, Tim has to pull off, panting a little as he goes back to those little kitten licks—coupled now with gentle sucks to the most prominent veins, and the underside of his glans. He works a hand into Jason's boxers, palming his balls and giving them a light squeeze.

Jason whimpers. “T-Tim—”

Just as Jason gets used to the feeling of Tim's lips and tongue, Tim swallows him down again. This time, he does— something with his tongue or the muscles in his throat that has Jason seeing stars. His belly is tight. His skin tingles. He feels a hair's breadth from exploding.

Two fingers press on his perineum as Tim swallows around him.

Jason lets out a strangled cry. "C-close," he manages, hand tightening in Tim's hair.

Tim hums, making Jason's toes curl. Then he eases off until Jason's cock is resting on his tongue. He tightens his lips and sucks, pressing on Jason's perineum at the same time.

Jason shoves two knuckles in his mouth, biting hard to strangle his shout. His thighs clamp tight around Tim, hips jerking upward; stopped only by the hand still holding him down. Tim works him through the orgasm with lips and tongue; the gentleness bliss up until it isn’t, until everything is too much.

He pushes weakly at Tim's shoulder, and Tim goes. A little bit of come dribbles out of his mouth. Jason whimpers when Tim’s tongue flicks out, catching it before it can fall off of his chin and stain his well-fitted suit.

Tim settles back onto his heels, looking pleased—with himself, but also with Jason, which has his stomach doing flips. "There we go," Tim rasps. He tucks Jason back into his slacks with exceeding gentleness, and fixes his fly before rising to his feet. "C'mon. You'll be more comfortable on the couch," he says, offering Jason his hand.

It takes Jason a second to muster the energy to move, but when he does, he lets Tim pull him to his feet and then to the sofa Jason keeps in his office. It’s mostly for Dick and Steph, both of whom like to drop in on him and hang out—and sometimes nap, in Dick’s case. But—sometimes Jason uses it too, like now, with Tim sitting down and pulling Jason after him, adjusting until Jason is lying against his chest, legs curled up beside him.

He’d grabbed Jason’s thermos on the way over. He opens it, the scent of one of Jason's favorite tea blends filling the air. Tim takes a drink, humming appreciatively before offering it to Jason. Sometimes Jason forgets Tim likes tea—though he thinks he can be forgiven, the way the man mainlines coffee.

“I didn’t, um— What about you?” Jason asks, when he lowers the thermos from his mouth. Tim is still tenting his pants.

“Later,” Tim says, still hoarse but not as bad as before. He cards his fingers through Jason’s hair. “You should rest.”

Jason’s mouth twists, even as his body betrays him; slumping more fully against Tim’s warmth. “The meeting—”

“You’ve got time,” Tim cuts him off. “We can go over your notes together in a few.”

Jason huffs, but lets himself melt into Tim’s touch. “Bad influence,” he mutters, just to keep from going quietly.

“Best influence,” Tim counters, sounding amused. “You needed to relax.”

Jason makes a face. Tim’s probably right, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to admit it. “Quiet, m’resting.”

He feels more than hears the quiet laugh he gets in response. Tim lets him have the last word. Jason is sure, somehow, he’ll find a way to be smug later, though. Tim’s annoying like that.

Too bad Jason likes him anyway.

He’d noticed the extra weight he picked up pretty quickly. It was hard not to—especially with Tim constantly using him as his own personal pillow. Jason used to fake gripe about it, until he figured out that the surest way to make Tim sleep was to offer himself up as a bed. Even the most complex case wasn’t enough to keep Tim from drifting off, once he was resting on or against Jason’s thigh, chest, stomach.

After that, well. Even his most sincere attempts to bitch about it fell flat.

Anyway—between that and the adjustments he’d had to make to his armor, he’d definitely noticed his own weight gain. Tim— Maybe he’d noticed his cheekbones weren’t quite as sharp, or that there was something a little bit more solid in the punches he threw, but—

The rest of it slipped past him.

Until now.

Now… all he wants to do is explore. Spread Tim out on their bed and find all the parts of him that have changed. He wants to lavish them with attention, and affection, because by god, Tim deserves to be soft. Deserves to take care of himself, to indulge himself.

(And maybe—maybe—there’s a part of Jason that wants to lay claim to it, too. Because this is because of him. Not just the food he’s made, or the request to eat together but— It’s their closeness. It’s choosing a quiet evening together over going out or staying late at work or pouring over casework. It’s ending patrol at three or four am instead of five or six to get an extra hour or two in bed together. It’s not burying themselves in a case alone, stress eating away at them, because they have a partner right there to help.

It’s love and trust, safety and support, commitment and contentment.)

Jason resists the urge, though. The last thing he wants to do is disturb Tim’s sleep. God knows it will take a lifetime, maybe two, to repay the debt he’s stacked up, and Jason won’t get in the way of him shaving off what he can.

They have the rest of the day. Last Jason heard, Tim doesn’t have anywhere to be today, and he knows neither of them have any pressing cases. Maybe… maybe after breakfast, before Tim disappears to his study, when he’s still relaxed and a little sleepy. Coaxing back into bed won’t be hard. Neither will convincing him to let Jason take the lead for a bit. Tim is entirely too willing to indulge Jason—the power he has is almost overwhelming.

He supposes it goes both ways.

Mm…

He tucked his nose in the back of Tim’s neck, cuddling closer to him.

It’s probably about time to start breakfast, honestly. But Jason is warm, and comfortable. Maybe he can indulge himself, a little. Fifteen more minutes won’t hurt anything.

Dick flicks his nose, relishing in the indignant expression that gets him. “It won’t be that bad, dummy, because you’ll be there with me.”

This time, the flush stretches all the way to his ears. Jason scowls. “You’re a sap, dickface,” he accuses. He doesn’t take his arm from Dick’s, though.

“I’m not the one who recites love poetry at four in the morning,” Dick says, sunnily.

Jason’s flush darkens. “You— you were supposed to be asleep,” he hisses.

“I know.” And having to lie there and keep pretending had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life. It had also been the moment he’d decided he was done. He didn’t want to keep—hiding it was the wrong word. They weren’t hiding anything. But they hadn’t announced it, either, and Dick… wanted to. Wanted the whole world to know how gone he was on Jason Todd.

Inviting him to be his date to a gala had seemed like the best way to go about that. Jason would be far less anxious if he could spend at least half the night antagonizing Bruce, and, well. Dick was always game to needle Bruce a little bit. It was good for him.

Jason huffs a little. He doesn’t seem upset by Dick’s deception. Flustered, definitely, but not angry. “Surprised you managed to keep still that long, Dickface.”

“You have no idea how hard it was,” Dick says, as seriously as he can. “It was so sweet, Jay. All I wanted to do was kiss you.”

Jason is quiet for a moment. “...you could’ve.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So, you know. Next time, you don’t hafta pretend.”

Dick couldn’t suppress his grin even if he wanted to. “There’s gonna be a next time?”

“Don’t push your luck, dickface.”

[ prompt list ]

Tim can hardly help melting against him. He’s always so unfairly warm. (Jason says the same thing about him. ‘Then again, princess, if you’d eat more, maybe you’d have something to hold it in—‘) “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m still traumatized.”

Jason snickers. “Traumatized, huh?”

“Mhm.” Tim twists in his arms, pressing their chests together and winding his arms around Jason’s neck. He plays with the strands there. “Be a good boyfriend and comfort me.”

That gets him another laugh—each one makes a little more warmth pool in Tim’s chest. Jason kisses him softly, sweetly; turning that pool into an ocean. Tim sighs into it, a little weak in the knees despite how brief it ends up being. Jason just has that effect on him.

He brushes their noses together. “C’mon, pretty bird,” Jason murmurs. “I’m gonna die of curiosity.”

Tim heaves a sigh far more put-upon than he actually feels, and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Well, we can’t have that. I just got used to you.”

Jason’s brows raise; a grin on his face. “Only just? It’s been over a year, babe.”

Tim shrugs. “I’m very resistant to change,” he says. “But you wanted to know about the glitter.”

“Please.”

“Alright. It’s Steph’s fault.”

Jason snorts.

“No, really!” Tim says, doing his best not to grin himself. “You remember when she and I went clubbing, right?”

“Three nights ago, yeah.”

“Right. Well. At one of them, there was a lot of body glitter. Like—a lot. And—I dunno. It was kinda hot? Which was unfair. I mean, I don’t look that good when I wear it. Which I told Steph, and she said she doubted you’d agree with that. And I kept thinking about it. I mean. It sounded kind of fun, to dress up like that. Different, definitely.

“Except, uh. Things did not go as planned, and I made a big mess instead. Oops?”

Jason doesn’t laugh like Tim thought he would. Instead his head tilts, almost thoughtfully. “You know,” he says. “I’ve got pretty steady hands.”

Tim takes a second to process. “I— Are you offering to apply it for me?” His mouth is suddenly dry, imagining himself under those strong, talented, and yes, steady, hands as they paint patterns of glitter on his skin.

Jason’s hands curl around his hips, thumbs stroking the sharp points of them. “We’re going to be finding glitter for months anyway,” he says, voice dropping, the deep baritone rumbling through his bones. “Might as well get some fun out of it.”

Tim shivers. “Have I ever told you you’re brilliant?” he asks, tightening his grip on Jason’s shoulders and feeling him tense in preparation. He jumps; legs locking around his waist while Jason’s hands grip his ass.

“Mm—not recently.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Tim promises, and kisses the place where his jaw meets his ear, relishing the soft noise that gets him. “Glitter’s in the bathroom.”