conner kent and tim drake eating you out at the same time. ˚.✦
You love testing your boyfriend's egos, you love how their own fragile masculinity made them end up laying on their stomach, fighting for a taste of your pussy.
One of Conner's hands is pushing your right thigh open, Tim is pressing the left one, making it impossible for you to spread more for them. At this moment, Tim is focusing on your clit, his tongue doing tight circles around the bundle of nerves while Conner pumps two fingers in and out of you and, oh wait! They switched, Tim pushed Conner's fingers out and now he's the one curling three inside of you.
"Dude, c'mon! I was busy there!" Conner flickers his tongue, rolling his eyes before bringing his thumb to your clit, returning the pressure you lost there.
You’re already a trembling, dripping mess, thighs shaking under their iron grips, and they’re still finding new ways to turn this into a goddamn competition.
Tim’s mouth is back on your clit the second he shoves Conner’s fingers aside, sucking hard enough that your hips buck involuntarily. A high, broken whine rips out of you.
“Fuck, Tim!”
“See?” Tim mumbles right against you, voice smug and muffled, lips vibrating. “Told you she likes the suction. You were just flicking around like you’re trying to win a staring contest with her clit.”
Conner snorts, not even bothering to lift his head from where he’s licking long, filthy stripes up the side of your folds, catching the slick that Tim’s ignoring.
“She’s clenching harder on my fingers now, genius. Maybe because I actually know how to find the spot instead of just bullying her clit like it owes me money.”
He crooks those thick fingers again, deeper this time, and you practically levitate off the mattress with a strangled “Ngh—ah! God!”
Tim immediately retaliates by flattening his tongue and dragging it up your entire slit in one obscene pull before sealing his lips around your clit again.
“She literally just said ‘oh god’ when I did that. You heard it. I have witnesses.”
“You’re the only witness and you’re biased as fuck,” Conner fires back. He noses in closer, shouldering Tim half out of the way so he can suck one of your inner lips into his mouth, tugging gently. “There we go, baby. That’s it. You like it when I’m messy, don’t you? Yeah you do.”
You’re trying to speak. You really are.
“Both of you, shut t-the fuck—shut up—” It comes out slurred, pathetic, more moan than sentence.
They both pause, just long enough to look up at you with matching shit-eating grins, chins shiny, pupils blown.
Conner’s the first to break. “Nah. You’re cute when you’re mad and wet.”
Tim hums in agreement, then pointedly drags the flat of his tongue over your clit again while maintaining eye contact. “And you’re cuter when you’re crying about it.”
You try to snap your thighs closed out of pure overwhelmed spite.
They don’t let you.
Conner’s forearm pins your right leg wide, Tim’s hand clamps down harder on the left, and suddenly there are two tongues trying to occupy the same space at once.
It’s uncoordinated. It’s obscene. It’s so fucking much.
Conner growls when Tim’s tongue accidentally slides over his. “Bro. Personal space.”
“You’re literally nose-deep in my girlfriend’s pussy with me, don’t ‘bro’ me right now.”
“She’s my girlfriend too, asshole!”
You let out a desperate, laughing sob. “You’re both—fucking idiots—please—”
“Please what, princess?” Conner purrs, finally giving you a reprieve by kissing the crease of your thigh instead. “Please make you come? Please stop arguing? Please admit I’m better?”
Tim snorts against your clit. “She’s gonna come on my tongue first and you know it. Feel how she’s fluttering? That’s for me.”
Conner immediately pushes two fingers back inside you, right alongside the two Tim already has there, and curls them.
Your whole body locks up. A sound you didn’t even know you could make punches out of your throat.
Then Conner grins like a shark. “Hear that? She said ‘someone.’ Not you specifically.”
Tim rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t fall out of his skull, then dives back in with renewed focus—tight, fast circles on your clit while his fingers grind against that spot that makes your vision white out.
Conner matches him beat for beat, thicker fingers stretching you wider, curling harder, the wet squelch of it all embarrassingly loud.
“Fuck, she’s close,” Conner mutters, almost reverent. “You feel that? She’s gripping me so fucking tight.”
Tim’s voice is wrecked. “Yeah. Because I’m the one on her clit, dipshit.”
You can’t take it anymore.
“Both—both of you—shut up and make me come—please—please—”
Conner laughs low against your thigh. “Bossy.”
Tim just hums smugly. “Told you she likes it when I’m mean.”
Then they stop talking.
Tim sucks your clit into his mouth at the same rhythm Conner’s fingers pump into you, and you shatter.
It hits like a freight train.
You scream, thighs trying to snap closed again, back arching so violently you almost throw them both off. Wave after wave rips through you, slick gushing around their fingers, and they don’t let up (not even a little) drawing it out until you’re sobbing, oversensitive, slapping weakly at their shoulders.
When you finally collapse, panting, trembling, they slowly pull their fingers out at the same time.
Both of them lift their heads.
Both of them look far too pleased with themselves.
Conner licks his lips, slow and deliberate. “I think we tied.”
Tim scoffs, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “I clearly won. She said my name first when she came.”
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Featuring: SuperBat, BirdFlash, JayRoy, TimKon, DamiJon, RoyWally x f!Reader
Warnings: SMUT TALK - MDNI, 18+
Case Notes: for ✨this✨ request.😘
I don’t own any of the photos in the banner- everything was found on Pinterest.
Everyone in this writing is of age.
SuperBat
The Dynamic
Clark is all gentle strength, the type to praise you, hold you up, make you feel utterly worshipped.
Bruce is commanding control- rougher, filthier, and the one who sets the pace.
Together? They’re a perfect balance: one tears you apart, the other puts you back together.
The Tag Teaming
Clark’s superhuman stamina means he can keep you coming until you’re trembling, while Bruce times your orgasms like he’s strategizing a mission.
One holds you down while the other ruins you. Sometimes it’s Clark pinning your wrists above your head with no effort at all, sometimes it’s Bruce tying you up with silk and growling orders.
Bruce loves whispering filthy things in your ear while Clark makes you moan loud enough to shake the walls.
Positions & Play
They love you on your knees, Bruce fucking your throat while Clark fucks you from behind, each one making you choke and whimper for different reasons.
Bruce gets off on watching Clark stretch you open, muttering “look at you taking him so well” while he strokes himself, waiting his turn.
Clark adores missionary because he can look into your eyes, but Bruce? He prefers you bent over, ass red from his handprints. With both? You’re getting flipped around until you don’t know which way is up.
DP is absolutely on the table. Clark gentle and overwhelming, Bruce rough and relentless, you’re not lasting long.
Their Favorite “Games”
Bruce makes rules (“don’t cum until I say”), and Clark loves “accidentally” breaking them by making you lose control under his mouth or cock.
Clark has a thing for holding you in his lap, bouncing you on his cock while Bruce kneels between your legs and licks you both clean.
Bruce loves toys; vibrators, plugs, restraints. While Clark prefers to use his body, tongue, and strength. Together? Overstimulation city.
Their Roles with You
Bruce is your Daddy Dom, telling you exactly what to do and punishing you if you disobey.
Clark is your sweet Dom, showering you in praise and affection while still fucking you into the mattress.
They both love hearing you call them by different names… Daddy for Bruce, Sir or Good boy Clark when you’re feeling bratty (and yes, Bruce smirks every time you top Clark just a little).
Aftercare
Clark’s the one who scoops you up, bathes you, brushes your hair, makes sure you drink water.
Bruce runs damage control, checking every mark he left, applying ointment if they broke skin, giving you medicine for soreness, quietly stroking your back while Clark cuddles you close.
You end the night sandwiched between them, completely wrecked but utterly safe.
BirdFlash
The Dynamic
Dick and Wally are best friends first, which makes the whole relationship extra natural. You’re not caught between them, they love the idea of sharing, hyping each other up, and making you the center of attention.
It’s playful competitiveness 24/7. They’ll literally argue over who makes you moan louder, who can make you laugh harder, or who you cuddled longer last night.
They’re a perfect contrast in bed, Dick is sensual, deliberate, all control and teasing, while Wally is fast, messy, and overwhelming. Together? They keep you on the edge between soft worship and overstimulation.
It’s playful competitiveness 24/7. Their competitiveness absolutely bleeds into sex. Who makes you cum harder, who gets more moans out of you, who you cling to tighter
The Tag Teaming
One of them eats you out while the other makes out with you, keeping eye contact with each other over your body. Very smug, so shameless.
They love having you in the middle. One behind, one in front, and you don’t stand a chance, every nerve ending is getting attention.
Wally is addicted to speed. Fingering you so fast you can’t breathe, or eating you out until you’re crying. Meanwhile, Dick is the one who holds you down, murmuring “take it, sweetheart.”
They love edging you together. Dick holding you in place, whispering praise while Wally pulls away at the last second with a cheeky “oops, not yet.”
Positions & Play
Double penetration? Yeah, they’re curious enough and competitive enough to make it happen. Dick’s the one careful and steady while Wally is greedy and rough. You don’t walk for days.
Dick loves having you ride him while Wally mouths at your chest, thighs, neck… anywhere he can reach.
Wally’s favorite thing? Eating you out while Dick’s fucking you, he gets off on seeing you lose control twice over.
Their Favorite “Games”
Wally’s speed means he’ll vibrate his fingers or tongue just right, and Dick smirks because “that’s cheating, man.” You don’t care, you’re screaming.
They love overstimulation, switching places without warning so you don’t know who’s inside you, who’s touching you, just that you’re theirs.
Aftercare (because they’re good boys at heart)
Wally is out of bed in seconds, bringing water, snacks, a damp cloth. Dick keeps you tucked in his arms, kissing your face while you come down.
They both spoil the hell out of you afterward. Praise, cuddles, food, a bath - whatever you need.
JayRoy
The Dynamic
Jason is rough, possessive, mine mine mine.
Roy is playful, teasing, and loves making you laugh even when you’re falling apart.
Together? They’re absolute menaces, dirty talk, bruises, bite marks, and a whole lot of reckless passion.
The Tag Teaming
Roy loves watching Jason fuck you, smirking as he says “She’s not gonna last, Jay.” Jason growls back, “She’s gonna take it, aren’t you, baby?”
One of them is always using their mouth while the other’s inside you. Jason eating you out while Roy fucks you deep, or Roy sucking bruises into your chest while Jason pounds you into the mattress.
They switch roles constantly, you’ll never know if you’re gonna be split open, pinned down, or worshipped until it happens.
Positions & Play
They love you in the middle. Jason behind, Roy in front, and you’re overwhelmed in the best way.
Roy’s favorite? Eating you out while Jason sits back and watches, giving lazy orders like “make her scream, Harper.”
Jason’s favorite? Spreading you out across his lap while Roy kneels in front of you, so he can spank you raw and still watch Roy finger you until you cry.
DP is absolutely on the table, especially when Jason’s possessive streak flares. He wants to fill you completely so no one else ever can.
Their Favorite “Games”
Roy teases, light touches, slow kisses, “oops, not yet.” Jason punishes, rough thrusts, spanking, filthy growls in your ear.
They’re so vocal. Jason groans and growls, all filthy dirty talk. Roy’s a shameless moaner and loves narrating what’s happening, “God, she’s dripping, Jay. You feel that?”
They love overstimulation. Jason holding you down by the throat while Roy eats you out until you’re crying, or Roy fingering you open fast while Jason fucks your mouth.
Their Roles with You
Jason’s the protector/dominant,he likes knowing you’re completely his.
Roy’s the wild card, sometimes sweet, sometimes bratty, sometimes making you cum just to see Jason scowl and say “I wasn’t done with her yet.”
They both mark you- hickeys, bites, scratches. You’re not going anywhere without proof you’re theirs.
Aftercare
Jason runs hot and cold, he’ll growl through the sex, but afterward he’s the one carefully cleaning you up, pressing quiet kisses to every bruise he left.
Roy is pure softness, snacks, cuddles, jokes until you’re giggling in his arms.
You always end up tangled between them, Jason’s arm heavy over your waist while Roy strokes your hair.
TimKon
The Dynamic
Tim is calculating, obsessive, strategic. He loves control and knowing exactly how to unravel you.
Conner is enthusiastic, affectionate, big puppy energy, he just wants to please you, all strength and desperation.
Together? You’re the rope in a tug of war between “I’ll ruin you carefully” and “I’ll ruin you right now.”
The Tag Teaming
Tim is the one edging you until you’re sobbing, then nodding for Conner to finally let you cum, he’s a tease, but Conner never says no to giving you what you need.
Conner loves holding you up with that Kryptonian strength while Tim does filthy things to you, tying you up, playing with toys, whispering the dirtiest shit in your ear.
They’ll both watch each other with you. Tim gets off on directing Conner, and Conner gets off on seeing how wrecked you are between the two of them.
Positions & Play
Conner’s favorite: you riding him, bouncing in his lap while he grips your hips tight, and Tim kneeling behind you, kissing your neck, whispering, slipping his fingers between your legs.
Tim’s favorite: you on your stomach, Conner holding your wrists to the mattress, while he fucks you slow and deep until you’re begging for more.
DP is definitely happening here. Tim precise and slow, Conner greedy and desperate. You’re stretched, filled, and completely undone.
Their Favorite “Games”
Tim sets rules (“Don’t cum until I say”) and Conner loves watching you squirm to follow them, whispering encouragement while Tim smirks like the bastard he is.
They’ll absolutely roleplay “good cop/bad cop” in bed, Tim threatening you with punishment if you disobey, Conner softly begging you to be good for them.
Tim LOVES toys. Vibes, plugs, cuffs. Conner LOVES using his strength, pinning you with one hand, holding you in the air while he fucks you.
Mutual obsession: they both love marking you. Hickeys, scratches, bruises. Tim neat and hidden, Conner messy and obvious.
Their Roles with You
Tim is the cold, calculating dom, the type to make you cry just from denial, then kiss your tears away.
Conner is the pleaser dom, he wants you to feel good, to cum as much as possible, to know how much he worships you.
Together, they’re devastating. Tim pushes you to the edge, Conner makes sure you fall apart in the sweetest way.
Aftercare
Tim insists on checking every mark, soothing lotion over red skin, muttering soft apologies against your hair.
Conner tucks you against his chest, feeds you snacks, kisses you all over until you’re giggling.
Sandwich cuddles are mandatory, you between Tim’s quiet heartbeat and Conner’s warm chest, their arms tangled around you.
DamiJon
The Dynamic
Damian is intense, possessive, commanding. He has that control freak streak, and in bed it shows. He wants everything just so, and he thrives on making you beg.
Jon is sweet, eager, devoted. He’s the pleaser, always wanting to touch, taste, and worship you until you can’t take it anymore.
Together? They balance each other frighteningly well, Damian pushes, Jon soothes, and you’re their battlefield.
The Tag Teaming
Damian takes his time, slow, deliberate thrusts, cruel edging. While Jon overwhelms you with his strength and eagerness, eating you out until you’re sobbing or fucking you until you see stars.
They love having you in the middle, Jon holding you up like you weigh nothing, Damian using you however he pleases, his mouth against your throat whispering filth in your ear.
Damian loves ordering Jon around in bed- “faster,” “hold her still,” “don’t let her cum until I say.” Jon lives for it, grinning like he’d follow every command.
Positions & Play
Jon’s favorite: you straddling him, bouncing on his cock while he grips your waist, his big hands guiding you, his mouth sucking marks into your chest. Damian kneels behind you, smirking, stroking you or slipping a toy in just to watch you fall apart.
Damian’s favorite: you tied down, blindfolded, Jon between your thighs worshipping you with his tongue until you’re shaking, and Damian calmly stroking your hair, making you say his name before you cum.
DP? Definitely, Damian taking control, Jon filling you up with his strength. You don’t survive it without your legs giving out.
Their Favorite “Games”
Damian thrives on denial, holding a vibrator against you until you’re crying for release, only to pull it away. Jon swoops in with praise, begging for you to cum because he can’t stand to see you in tears.
They love overstimulation. Jon’s super-speed tongue/fingers + Damian’s cock = you’re crying, screaming, trembling while they smirk at each other over your ruined body.
Damian dirty talks like it’s a weapon, sharp, filthy, degrading. Jon praises you to death, telling you how good you are, how beautiful you look falling apart. Together? You’re torn between heaven and hell.
Their Roles with You
Damian = strict dom. Expect commands, punishment, and possessiveness.
Jon = pleaser dom. He worships you, dotes on you, and makes sure you know you’re adored.
Together = Good cop/Bad cop in bed. Damian makes you cry, Jon kisses the tears off your cheeks. Damian spanks you, Jon rubs your back while you sob against him.
Aftercare
Damian pretends he’s aloof but is meticulous in checking every mark, every bruise, massaging ointment into your skin with soft mutters in Arabic.
Jon is cuddles, snacks, kisses everywhere. He’ll wrap himself around you like a big blanket, warm and unshakable.
You always fall asleep tangled between Damian’s steady heartbeat and Jon’s giant body heat.
RoyWally
The Dynamic
Roy is filthy, reckless, and playful. He loves getting you messy, marked up, and begging.
Wally is teasing, fast, and greedy. He wants you as many times as possible, as loud as possible.
Together? They egg each other on, laughing at how ruined you are and competing to see who can get you off more.
The Tag Teaming
They thrive on taking turns, Roy bending you over, spanking you raw while Wally fingers you with that impossible speed until you collapse.
One goes down on you while the other’s in your mouth, trading cocky comments like “she moaned louder for me, dude” while you can barely breathe.
They love spit-roasting you. Wally fucking your throat while Roy pounds you from behind, both groaning about how perfect you feel.
Positions & Play
Roy’s favorite: you sprawled on his lap, crying from overstimulation, while Wally kneels between your legs and makes you cum again with his tongue in seconds.
Wally’s favorite: you riding him while Roy kneels behind you, kissing your neck, tweaking your nipples, whispering filthy encouragement until you’re crying out for both of them.
DP is absolutely on the menu. They’re competitive enough to insist you can handle both, and smug enough to prove it right.
Their Favorite “Games”
Roy loves dirty talk and degradation—“Look at you, baby, fucked dumb on us”, while Wally piles on the teasing praise, “You’re so good for us, sweetheart, c’mon, give us another one.”
Wally uses his speed to absolutely wreck you, fast thrusts, vibrating fingers, quick kisses all over your body. While Roy slows it down just to edge you cruelly.
They LOVE pushing you into overstimulation. One won’t stop even after you’ve cum, because the other eggs him on: “C’mon, she can take another. Right, baby?”
Their Roles with You
Roy = filthy dom/brat tamer. He thrives on making you blush, beg, or roll your eyes before he ruins you.
Wally = playful dom/pleaser. He’s cheeky, greedy, and obsessed with making you cum as much as possible.
Together = chaos doms. They’ll laugh at how wrecked you are, but it’s all love and worship underneath.
Aftercare
Wally zips away to grab you snacks, water, maybe even a smoothie because “you need energy, babe.”
Roy is lazy but thorough, cleaning you up, pulling you into his chest, muttering soft reassurances against your hair.
They both tangle you in bed, leaving hickeys everywhere you can’t hide them, because they love when everyone knows you’re theirs.
⭐️DCU Masterlist⭐️ 🦇Return to the Batcave🦇
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pairing: Tim Drake x f! reader (has a pussy + uses fem pronouns) x Kon-El Kent
summary: bored of your roommates not giving you any attention while they're streaming, you offer some under-the-desk support
cw: 2.6k, smut/nsfw, streamer! Tim Drake, roommates with benefits, semi-public sex, humiliation, under the desk support, sucking tim's cock while he streams, face fucking, embarrassment, recording, praise + degradation, punishment (kinda) lots of fluids (spit and cum)
froggi yaps -> sorry this was so late my timkon enjoyers </3 i took a power nap which turned into a four hour nap which turned into me being sick ;-; anyway i hope you have as much fun reading this as i did writing it
“I’m bored,” you groan, letting your head fall back over the edge of Conner’s bed.
You squint at the stream playing on your phone—half of the screen dedicated to a particularly insane modded Minecraft run and the other half dedicated to none other than Tim Drake—and frown. He’s been streaming for eleven hours. Eleven.
In the time since he’d started streaming, you’d showered, taken a nap, gotten groceries and were now harassing Kon in the comfort of his bedroom. The man, also entirely locked in on the same Minecraft server, didn’t seem to mind.
“Why don’t you play with us?” He doesn’t even look away from his monitors—one running Minecraft, the other running an unholy combination of Discord, Spotify and OBS, “if you’re so bored.”
You shrug, “not feeling it. And I don’t wanna be on stream…some of those people are downright weird.”
He snorts at that but doesn’t bother to argue. It’s true that in the time Tim’s been streaming, there’s been no shortage of strange comments and ship edits of the three of you.
One time, in an attempt to be nice to the man, you’d brought him a sandwich on stream. Of course, Tim had slipped up and said something along the lines of ‘thanks, babe’ only for his chat to go insane. Your ship name had been trending online for weeks after that.
Arguably, though, Kon had it worse than you. ‘TimKon’, the shipname given to them by the fans, was almost always in the Top 10 on Ao3. Almost anytime the two of them played games together on stream, your Tiktok feed would be flooded with clips of the two of them.
Of course, if his fan base knew the true nature of Tim’s relationship with the two of you, they’d probably go ballistic. The three of you were roommates, sure. Friends, absolutely. But there was more to it, too.
Friends don’t seek each other out in the night, don’t shower with each other and help wash the blood from their hair after patrol. Friends don’t go down on each other for hours after a few too many drinks and a drunken game of ‘Never Have I Ever’.
That last one is burned into your memory. The sight of both Tim and Conner between your legs, sweaty and flushed, is not a sight you’d soon forget. They’d been fighting to see who could make you finish faster—your late night game of Never Have I Ever having revealed you’d never been eaten out before—only for them to leave in a draw.
“Do you think he’ll be done soon?”
Kon shrugs his broad shoulders. “I dunno.”
“Do you know if he’s eaten anything? Or had water?”
“I dunno.”
“Do you think he’ll care if I hide under his desk and suck his cock?”
“I dunn—what?” He sputters, finally turning to look at you only to see you running off down the hall towards Tim’s room.
He’s on his feet in an instant, ready to catch you before you burst into Tim’s room and do something regrettable. Any other day, he’d catch you in an instant. Today, however, his legs are stiff from sitting at his desk and he doesn’t manage to catch you before you’re opening Tim’s door and offering him a wink.
You try to stay as quiet as possible slipping into his room, phone clenched in your hand still playing his stream on mute. You can see yourself in the very corner, shuffling along the far wall until you’re out of view from the camera.
Tim offers you a strange look but says nothing, going back to addressing his chat about something you don’t quite understand. You make it to the window next to his desk, crossing your arms over your chest and pouting.
Blue eyes flick over to you, scanning over you for any sign of harm before realizing you’re entirely fine. He goes back to staring at his screen with bloodshot eyes.
Oh well, you sigh and pull your hair out of your face. You lower yourself to your knees, crawling across the mat beneath his desk until you’re settled squarely between Tim’s legs. That gets his attention.
He looks down at you with wide eyes, swallowing hard before going back to looking at his monitors. You rest a hand on his thigh, parting his legs slowly and shuffling forward until you’re slotted perfectly between his knees.
Looking at him through your lashes, you trail your hand higher and higher up his thigh until it rests just over the slight outline of his cock. His cheeks burn pink but he doesn’t dare look away from his game.
You smile sweetly and dip your hand into his waistband, going straight for his cock. The minute your hand brushes over his sensitive length, Tim gasps.
You tilt your hand, squeezing his cock and looking up at him expectantly. He glances down at you—eyes dark and lined with lust—before taking a deep breath.
“S-sorry chat, stubbed my toe on the wall again.”
You suppress a laugh. Tightening your grip, you slowly rub your hand up his length. You leverage your other hand on his waistband, using it to tug his sweats all the way down.
Thank god his camera only shows him from the chest up.
With his cock freed, you spit into your hand and use it to lube up his half-hard cock. Your strokes get quicker from there, hand gripping him tightly until he’s fully hard and dripping pre into your palm.
Tim makes the occasional strangled noise from above you, trying his hardest to keep his composure on stream. You frown, you were hoping he’d have turned off his stream by now.
Oh well. You open your mouth widely and close your lips around the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around it to clean off his pre.
Tim swears, slamming one of his knees into his desk. The sudden impact causes his camera to fall off the top of his monitor and land flat on its face on his desk.
He muffles a string of curses on his palm, using the sleeve of his sweater to cover his mouth. With the camera no longer focused on him, he’s free to look at you directly.
Though he doesn’t say a word, his flushed cheeks and lustful eyes tell you everything you need to know. You swallow more of his cock, hollowing out your cheeks and taking him in until the head of his cock reaches the back of your throat.
“I’m having some, er, technical difficulties, chat,” he rambles out, trying to keep the breathiness out of his voice. “I’m gonna have to end stream, sorry, bye!”
It’s only a minute before the telltale sound of him dropping his headset on his desk lets you know he’s done streaming. And that you’re in a world of trouble.
You pull your mouth from his cock and scramble to push yourself out from under his desk. You force yourself to your feet, bracing yourself on the floor to run away.
You make it a whole six feet before Tim snatches you by your waist and pulls you into his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Kon!” You shout.
Tim’s lips ghost over your ear, “what do you think he’s gonna do, huh?”
The door creaks open and Conner pads into the room, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest. His eyes glance from the guilty expression on your face to Tim’s lack of pants.
He shakes his head. “What did you get yourself into this time?”
“Hey!” You smile guiltily, “it’s not my fault you guys weren’t giving me any attention.”
Tim, satisfied that Kon’s broad form is adequately blocking the door, lets you go. “Aw, is someone needy?” He teases.
“Shut up.”
Tim laughs, “feeling brave, are we?”
Tim pulls you against his chest once more, one arm slung across your chest, the other slowly trailing down your stomach. You swallow, half-heartedly squirming in his arms as his hand dips between your thighs.
“T-tim.” You shiver, parting your legs on instinct.
And then he pulls away entirely, letting you stumble forwards on shaky legs, still yearning for his touch. You look at him over your shoulder, fixing him with the most betrayal-filled stare you can muster.
“What?” He says, like he doesn’t already know what you want. He looks at Kon over your head, “did you get my text?”
He nods and takes your hand, “come on, then.”
You let them lead you away from Tim’s office and back to Kon’s room. Each step down the hallway feels charged, a newfound electricity crackling in the air.
The first thing you notice in Kon’s room is the tripod and the camera on top. You tilt your head in confusion, raising an eyebrow at him, “what’s this for?”
“What do you think?” Conner asks, settling on the bed and patting the spot next to him.
Dropping Tim’s hand from yours, you slowly sink into the mattress next to him, sitting perfectly still with your hands on your knees.
Tim fiddles with the camera, adjusting the angles and pressing a button that has a blinking red light appearing. “This,” he says, tugging off his shirt before walking into frame, “is for needy sluts that think it's funny to embarrass me on stream.”
Your face warms at that and somehow only now do you realize that you’ve walked into a trap.
Tim stands in front of you stroking his cock, still half hard from your earlier performance. “C’mon now,” he prompts you, “you were so eager to suck it earlier.”
“B-but the camera…”
He laughs, “didn’t seem to stop you earlier.”
You look for Kon for help but he has the same devilish look in his eyes that Tim does, eagerly watching to see what you’ll do. Hot shame burns at the back of your eyes but still, you lower yourself to your knees on the floor and wrap a hand around his length.
“Good.”
Slowly, you take his cock into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it like you did earlier. You bob your head up and down, taking more and more of his length in every time.
Tim grabs the back of your head and forces you all the way down, choking you on his cock. You gag, blinking back hot tears, but you don’t dare tap out. Your chest aches for air, the little breaths you take in through your nose doing little to satiate your need for air.
Finally, Tim lets you off of his cock, grabbing your chin and turning your head to look at the camera. “Smile, baby.”
You look into the lens with a pout on your lips and tears in your eyes. For a minute, all you can think about is how he’ll watch this back later and laugh at your pathetic face and how easily you submitted to this. The thought has warmth coursing between your thighs.
He grabs your head once more and guides you back down onto his cock. He doesn’t push you down this time, letting you suck him off at your own pace. You let your eyes flutter closed, trying to focus on his dick in your mouth and not the fact you’re being watched.
And then something fleshy is hitting you across the cheek. You open your eyes, blinking to adjust to the light, only to see Conner standing in front of you pantsless, his cock rubbing the side of your cheek.
Tim pulls you off his cock, a string of drool connecting the two of you. He rubs his thumb over your lip, smearing your spit across your face that has you looking even messier than before.
“Why don’t we give Kon some love, hm?”
You nod idly, dizzy from the sudden attention, and stick out your tongue. He rubs his cock along your tastebuds, slapping it on your tongue before he pushes it all into your mouth. You strain your jaw to take him, your mouth already aching.
Conner’s hand replaces Tim’s on the back of your head, guiding you along his length, pushing your head down until his cock reaches the back of your throat. He chuckles when you gag before letting you up for air and repeating the process all over again.
“You really are well-trained,” he murmurs, lovingly patting the back of your head. “You take cock so well.”
The compliment has you clenching your thighs and trying to take more of him in your mouth. You don’t even notice Tim has disappeared until you feel him crouching behind you, hands grasping at your chest.
You gasp, opening your mouth wider and giving Conner a better opening. He sticks his cock further inside of you, further than you’ve tried to take either of them, and holds your head down. You squeeze your eyes shut.
His cock is so far in your mouth, it burns. You can’t breathe, can’t think—all you can focus on is his throbbing cock and the way Tim is grabbing you.
“A few more seconds.” Conner groans, “that’s it, you can do it. I know you can take more than that.”
Conner releases your head at the same time Tim pulls out one of his pocket knives and cuts your shirt clean down the middle, leaving you half-naked in front of them.
He pinches one of your nipples, laughing when you shudder. “So sensitive.”
You hum in agreement, not trusting your voice to be anything but choked and raspy right now. Tim turns you to face the camera once more, still crouched behind you as he squishes your cheeks together and smears drool and precum across your face.
“You’re so messy.” He pushes himself back to his feet, shoving his cock into your face, “so fucking messy and needy.”
You hesitate before opening your mouth for him, remembering the camera is very much right there and that they are never going to let you hear the end of it. Still, Tim’s standing in front of you and he’s naked and goddamn, does his cock look good.
There’s a smile on his face when you open your mouth and take his cock in once more. You force your head down as far as you can, pushing past the ache in your jaw and the way your throat seems to push him out.
Then Tim is pulling out and his cock is immediately replaced with Kon’s, and once again you try to take him as deep as possible. They rotate out like that, using your throat one at a time, each cock replaced with another.
You’re sweaty and flustered and entirely messy but still, you gladly open your mouth and try your best to take them as deep as possible.
“Look so pretty like this,” Kon gasps, “like you’re made to be on your knees and suck our cocks.”
Tim makes a sound of agreement, brushing a tear out of the corner of your eye. “Like you were made to be used.”
The cycle only speeds up from there and it’s not long before Tim’s cock is twitching. He finishes in your mouth at first, pulling out his cock so the remaining ropes of cum drip onto your face and chest.
Kon takes advantage of this, sticking his cock in your still cum-filled mouth, thrusting a few times before he finishes, too. He starts in your mouth, pulling out so he can cover your face and chest in it too.
Both men are transfixed by the sight of you on your knees, covered in cum.
You swallow what’s left in your mouth, looking up at Tim and opening your mouth to show him.
“Good girl,” he says breathlessly.
Kon grabs the camera off the tripod, kneeling in front of you and shoving it in your face. You stare at the blinking red light, stare into the lens that’s capturing you in such a lurid position.
“Go on, sweetheart.” Conner prompts, “smile for the camera.”
dc masterlist | navigation | kinktober 2025
tysm for reading & have a great day! /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹
SUMMARY: tim drake and conner kent aren’t your boyfriend boyfriends, they’re situational and that includes the sex too… but when they notice you flirting with another guy at a wayne gala? they aren’t shy about their jealousy… and you experience it first hand when both of them stuff you.
CONTENT WARNING: 18+ CONTENT, double penetration, dirty talk, vaginal sex, anal sex, threesome, rough sex, big dick! conner kent, big dick! tim drake, unprotected sex, first time anal, jealous sex, competitive sex, ass slapping (a little), tummy bulge, they’re so in love with you—
AUTHOR'S NOTE: day twenty eight! like I’m so fucking sorry but this is straight up filth, I knew I wanted to do double penetration, and they’re just both so hot, how could I not? anyway, hope u enjoy!
tim and conner are competitive people. you knew this too well.
they’re also your “not-so-boyfriend” boyfriends, tim calls it situational boyfriends, conner calls it half-time boyfriends. they’re not your boyfriends all the time, other times they were definitely your boyfriends— dick jokes that they’re only your boyfriends when they need to be, which is more true than they could even think… but the problem with having two competitive, not-so-boyfriends boyfriends? they get jealous… and horny.
and jealous and horny don’t mix well.
you weren’t even supposed to be at the wayne gala.
you weren’t a fancy socialite or business person trying to sell people things. you weren’t even really dating tim (who was the one invited by dick and damian), though you’d fallen asleep in his bed more times than you can count on two hands and whenever you needed him, he was there in a moment.
but you went anyway, because tim dragged you along, which inadvertently meant conner was coming too— who wasn’t too happy to be leaving metropolis, but would put up with it because it was you two. conner was given a suit by clark (color coordinated by lois because god forbid clark cannot color coordinate to save his damn life) and tim used bruce’s credit card.
and how you ended up leaving the gala with two jealous doberman in human form, holding each one of your arms as you three got back to metropolis through conner’s flying abilities… that’s how you found yourself in this position; on your back, dress was ripped on the floor, both conner and tim were naked and stroking their cock as each one of their hands held one of your legs open for them.
then seeing you get hit on one of those stupid gentlemen swingers in gotham? they didn’t expect each other to get so jealous.
you weren’t even their girlfriend, why are they getting so mad about him? he’s not as hot as they are, he definitely doesn’t make you feel good like they can (and they’ve done before) and he’s definitely ogling at you for far too much for both of their likings. and that’s how you ended up leaving the party early, leaving that god forsaken gala through the front doors and ignoring people as they questioned why two men, fat grins on their faces hiding their jealousy, were pushing each other with you in their arms out the door.
so that’s how you ended up in this position.
“f-fuck…” you mutter as your legs shake. you don’t even get a second before they get on the bed with you, tim going over to the pillows and pressing against the headboard as he grabs you and puts you on his lap, conner getting behind you as conner straddles tim’s legs.
tim kisses your jaw, his right hand squeezing your breast as his left hand grabs his cock, murmuring a few shushes as conner lines up with your hole. “have you ever had two in one go, baby?” tim questions you, his blue eyes shooting into yours.
you shudder as four hands touch you so well. you shake your head, looking over your shoulder at conner as he kisses the top of your spine. “n-no, tim… ‘never had two dicks in me…”
“good.” conner gruffs against your hair, his tip pressing against your hole as tim’s dick presses against your cunt. “cause tonight, that’s what you’re getting…” he says, grabbing your jaw with his right hand and kissing you.
you moan against his lips, your shaky moans leave your lips as you feel both of their tips against each one of your holes. “j-just be gentle… please?”
tim smiles at your words, kissing your cheek. “of course baby, ain’t no way we’re going to hurt this pussy of ours…”
with no words needed, conner goes first since it hurts more to get a dick up your ass instead of your pussy.
his tip is bulbous against your hole but it stretches you so fucking good. you moan out as you feel your hole gets stretched beyond any point. conner’s hands spread your cheeks, watching in awe as each inch disappears, your muscles clamping around him like a vice.
he grunts, squeezing both cheeks in hand. “c’mon baby… don’t give me a hard time.” he gruffs, bullying open your hole as your moans fill the room. it’s a different pain from vaginal— a sharp yet delicious sensation that you tried to relax for him, but you can’t help it. “there you go…” he coos once your hole lightens up around him. “good fuckin’ hole f’me, making me so proud.”
tim grins at your response, stroking his cock with a methodical pace as he waits for conner to be fully seated in your ass. “you done, man? this pussy’s wet as shit on this side.” he says, putting his left hand right under your clit, feeling just how wet you truly are.
conner groans at the final inch, his balls resting against your cheeks as he adjusts his knees, fixing his posture. “her hole took it well, go ahead, tim.”
nodding, tim adjusts his hips and slowly pushes his cock into your folds. your pussy takes it easier than your hole, considering it’s less tight than your behind, but it feels so good. you feel so fucking full by the both of them, conner’s cock warms up inside you as tim’s cock slowly pushes into you.
“there you go…” conner mutters, moving his right hand to wrap around your waist, his hand sprawling on the top of your abdomen, feeling tim fill you. “this pussy doesn’t want anyone else… no one else can make you feel this good, can they, love?”
you shake your head, gasping with each shove of his cock. “s-shut up, con… fuckkkkkk.” you moan out as tim’s cock eventually hits your cervix, his balls brushing against your puffy cunt as now, both cocks sit heavy into you.
tim grins, kissing your swollen lips as they both let you adjust to two dicks in you, squeezing your right thigh. “oh c’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that.”
“you- you two are so- so fucking jealous…” you grit out, jaw clenched as your walls on both ends slowly ease up. you’re getting used to them, you’ve had both of them inside you but not like this— not at the same time. they’ve shared your pussy but not your pussy and your hole at the same time.
conner shrugs, thumb stroking the bulge in your abdomen as his left hand remains on your ass. “if the shoe fits, baby, you’re the one flirting with that guy… like he had a chance.”
tim nods in response. “conner’s right, sweetheart, you’re the one who flirted with him, looking at him like you wanted to fuck him.” he adds, feeling conner adjust behind you, his cock getting needy to move.
you roll your eyes. “i-i already said i’m sorry, for fucks sake… y-you guys aren’t even my boyfriends so why do you even c-care?” you question, knowing damn well the attitude ain't going to do you any favors, but you like it when they’re rough with you; but the broken words aren’t on purpose, it just feels that good.
“don’t give us attitude, sweetheart.” tim reads it immediately, purposely adjusting his hips just for that, which makes you groan out loud.
conner nods, lifting his hand to slap your ass— it’s not hard whatsoever, just a gentle tap, like a warning tap. “tim’s right, no need for the smart mouth. and for that boyfriends comment? it shouldn’t matter, baby, tim dragged us with him and we remained with each other, not flirting with other men ten feet away from one another.”
the jealousy shouldn’t be so hot, but it just is. the husky voice of tim and the deep voice of conner just feels too good vibrating against your skin.
you can’t respond, but it’s not like they were going to force that out of you… instead, they began to move their hips.
tim began his movements first, conner held you up so easily as tim began to lift his hips, thrusting upwards into your tight cunt. your moan is sharp-- unexpected as you feel pleasure hit your body instantly with tim’s cock. your pussy flutters around him. “tim!”
he grins, both hands remaining on your thighs as conner holds your hips. “now you don’t got that bitchy ass attitude." he remarks, not relenting on his hips as the wet slaps of skin echo throughout the bedroom. “taking my cock like the good girl you are…”
then, conner begins to move, and you are seeing stars at this point.
conner’s cock burns your walls as each thrust in your hole forces the muscle to open up and expand with each thrust, his cock bullying your hole as they held you in place, both cocks moving at different speeds and angles, but they’re both doing what they’ve intended to do, which is make you feel good.
the kryptonian behind you grunts out a few curses as he thrusts in and out, balls slapping against your clit as the robin below you keeps up the quickened pace rather than the behind’s deepening pace. they both feel too damn good that your body doesn’t know how to feel besides beg for release almost instantly.
“you feel that?” conner questions as each thrust hits you like a freight train. “you feel us fucking you, like it’s what you deserve… tell me baby.” he begins, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him over your shoulder. “who’s the guy you were flirting with?”
your eyes look at him, you can barely keep focus with the amount of pleasure both cocks are doing to you and you can barely think about anything from the last five minutes, let alone an hour previous.
tim grins at the response you give conner, which is literally a fucked out response. “i don’t think she knows, man… think that mind is too fucked for her to even think.”
conner’s smile turns wolfish at tim’s words, stroking your jawline. “is he right, baby? is that pretty little head too fucked out to think of anyone else besides us?”
and at that, you respond. you nod, pussy fluttering as you find yourself closer and closer to the edge, so quickly and so pathetically— but you couldn’t care, you hadn’t cared the moment conner lined up behind you and tim in front of you. “y-yes, con… t-too fucked out… t-too good…. ah! oh fuck!” you let out as tim drills into a particularly good spot.
“she’s going to cum.” tim says, bringing his hand up to your puffy clit. “should we let her cum, conner?”
you try to nod, try to beg them to let you finish, but conner’s hand literally locks you there.
he pretends to think for a second before responding. he may be jealous, absolutely, he may be horny and pissed… but he wants to see just how fucked out they can make you… and that includes see how many orgasms you can handle. “i don’t know, tim, you think you can make her cum?”
that makes tim’s eyebrow raise, and his hips don’t falter at conner’s challenge, meanwhile your face was red, your moans hoarse as these two men argued below you.
“uhhh, i definitely can, not so sure if you can, considering you’re slow as shit.” tim responds, legs flexing as each thrust hits deeper and deeper.
and conner? he doesn’t respond, but with the way he moves you a little, bringing his right hand onto the back of your neck and his left hand on your hip and the sudden change of pace in his movements? that’s all tim needs to see to pick up his pace. you scream as conner’s cock goes faster, hitting the deepest parts in you, it feels damn good as his cock drags in and out.
you can’t tell who makes you cum, but you just know it as your eyes roll back, a scream of both of their names and an arch of your back off of conner’s shoulder is all you need to cum.
each cock remains to go faster as your orgasm tears through you, each finger losing sensation, legs clenched hard and needily around tim’s leg, locked in by conner’s legs as you fall over the edge. head thrown back, sweat dripping down your face.
and they didn’t give you a chance to think before they fall over the edge as well.
tim does first, like always for the regular human. for one whimper of your name, his cock hits your g-spot, and in an instant, you feel a gush of warm semen enter your folds. it’s fulfilling and its sticking to the inside of your walls as he grinds against you, semen pumping deep within your folds.
then, conner cums. a deep marking of his hand on the back of your neck and one groan, he’s cumming as well, this time in your hole. being half kryptonian, he’s much more forceful as his cum has a lot more pressure in it. it knocks the wind out of you as it enters your asshole. you can feel it, your nails digging deep into tim’s chest as you squeeze your eyes shut, his thumb stroking your neck as he cums deep.
both holes are filled with both of the superheroes’ semen, both panting as they catch their breaths. your eyes finally roll back to where they’re supposed to be, tim leans up to kiss your swollen lips and conner kisses your neck.
“t-turns out you can take double dicks…” tim remarks against your lips as he’s slow to pull out, but eventually, he does, with conner doing it first. both of them are out of their respective spots.
you nod as conner gently moves your body onto the bed and onto your back, careful to not hurt your backside. “f-fuck… tell me to never make you two jealous again… fuck.” you murmur under your breath. “n-need a damn shower.”
conner smiles, but you know that smile, it ain’t over for you. “who says you’re finished baby… you’ve got a lot more and last time i checked, tim…” he looks down at tim, who’s leaning on his forearms. “whoever goes flaccid first loses…”
tim smiles once again, and you just internally groan as his words fill the room. “oh you’re so going down.” he says as they both go to one of your legs, spreading you open all over again.
maybe making them jealous was the right thing to do…
main masterlist | kinktober masterlist
they’re just so fucking delicious, I want to eat them both— this is probably one of the nastiest ones I’ve done just because it’s double penetration and I’ve never written a three some like this (the only other one is my dick x wally x reader one) so hope u enjoyed! next one coming soon!
Summary:
You have lived across the hall from Tim Drake and Conner Kent long enough to know a few things.
Tim keeps terrible hours, notices too much, and has a habit of making concern look like common sense. Conner is all easy grins and unfair confidence, the kind of man who can turn a two-minute conversation by the mailboxes into something you think about hours later.
You have also been doing a very respectable job pretending the tension between the three of you is harmless.
Then you lock yourself out.
Author’s Note:
surprise Conner Kent/Kon-El appearance! he’s not on my list of characters i write for, but TimKon is SUCH a good pairing, and i just had to do it
🐦 🔑 ☀️
You realized you had locked yourself out about three seconds after the door clicked shut behind you.
It was not dramatic enough for the amount of damage it did to your night. There was no slam, no echo, no cinematic pause where the universe gave you a chance to lunge for the handle and save yourself from humiliation. Just a small, neat click from the deadbolt, calm as a verdict, while you stood in the fourth-floor hallway with an overfull laundry basket on your hip and a single sock slipping loose from the pile like it was trying to abandon you too.
You stared at the door.
Your keys were inside. Your phone was inside. Your shoes were inside, which felt personal. You had gone downstairs for one quick laundry run because your phone was charging and your keys were on the kitchen counter and you had, apparently, mistaken yourself for the kind of person who could be trusted with a door.
Across the hall, apartment 4B was quiet.
You looked at it, then away, then back again.
That was the worst part. There was an obvious solution, and it was standing directly across from you in the form of a dark-painted door, an expensive deadbolt, and a plain black doormat that said WELCOME with far too much confidence. Behind that door lived Tim Drake and Conner Kent, your neighbors, your hallway acquaintances, and the source of several months’ worth of increasingly inconvenient thoughts.
Tim kept terrible hours, drank coffee like sleep had personally offended him, and noticed things with the quiet precision of a man who could probably tell you what you had for lunch based on the look on your face. He was careful in a way that made care feel like strategy. He remembered that you hated the elevator’s flickering light, that you did not drink anything with caffeine after five, that you always checked the mailroom twice because the delivery drivers in your building treated package labels like riddles.
Conner, on the other hand, was the kind of man who turned taking out the trash into an event. He was broad-shouldered, unfairly charming, and constantly on the verge of saying something that made your dignity consider moving out. He flirted with you by the mailboxes, in the stairwell, while carrying groceries, while holding the elevator, while barefoot at midnight with a carton of milk in one hand and a grin that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.
Together, they were a problem.
You had watched Conner lean into Tim’s space and watched Tim pretend not to like it. You had watched Tim hand Conner his keys before Conner asked, watched Conner draw a laugh out of Tim like he was stealing something precious and getting away with it. You had watched them come home bruised at odd hours and learned not to ask questions when Tim’s sleeves were torn, or when Conner’s smile came in late.
You had also spent months doing a very respectable job pretending the tension between the three of you was harmless.
The sock fell the rest of the way onto the carpet.
“Traitor,” you muttered.
Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you shifted the laundry basket higher against your hip and knocked on 4B.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then there was movement inside, soft enough that you would have missed it if you had not been listening too hard. A step. A pause. The small shift of a lock.
Tim opened the door.
He was barefoot, wearing dark sweatpants and a faded gray shirt, his hair damp and pushed back from his forehead in a way that had not survived drying. There was a faint bruise near his collarbone, partly hidden by the stretched neckline of his shirt, and a thin healing cut along his jaw.
His eyes dropped to the laundry basket, then to your socks, then back to your face.
“You’re locked out,” he said.
You hated him a little for getting there first.
“I was going to say hello.”
“You knocked like someone who was either locked out or being chased.”
“Those are weirdly specific categories.”
“You’re holding laundry, and you’re not wearing shoes.” His gaze flicked over you again, quick and clinical until it softened into something closer to concern. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Just embarrassed.”
“That I can’t fix.”
“You could pretend you didn’t notice.”
“I could,” Tim said. “I won’t.”
From somewhere behind him, Conner called, “Is that our favorite neighbor?”
Tim’s eyes stayed on yours. “That depends on how many neighbors you’ve been flirting with.”
“Just the one across the hall.”
Your pulse did something deeply unhelpful.
Conner appeared over Tim’s shoulder a moment later, wearing a black T-shirt and low-slung pajama pants, his hair a mess in a way that looked better than effort had any right to. His grin spread the second he saw you.
“Well,” he said. “This is a nice surprise.”
“It’s not a surprise. It’s a lockout.”
“I didn’t say it was nice for you.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m being supportive.”
“Try harder.”
Conner leaned against the doorframe above Tim’s shoulder, looking entirely too pleased with the universe. “You look very brave.”
Tim sighed, but his mouth twitched. “Ignore him. Come in.”
You glanced between them and the warm light of their apartment. “Just until I can call a locksmith.”
“Obviously,” Conner said.
Tim gave him a look.
Conner widened his eyes. “What? I agreed.”
“You sounded insincere.”
“That’s because I’m hoping the locksmith is terrible and late.”
“Conner.”
“I didn’t say I was going to sabotage anyone.”
You stepped inside before you could smile too obviously.
Their apartment was warmer than the hallway and smelled like coffee, clean cotton, and something metallic you couldn’t place. The living room was tidy without feeling staged: a couch with a blanket thrown over one arm, books on the coffee table, a pair of sneakers kicked half beneath a chair, a laptop closed beside a mug. Near the door sat a tray with keys, sunglasses, a roll of athletic tape, and a compact flashlight. There was also a folded piece of black fabric you very deliberately did not inspect.
Tim noticed you noticing and closed the door.
Conner noticed Tim noticing you noticing and looked delighted.
“Laundry can go there,” Tim said, nodding toward the armchair.
You set the basket down. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for laundry.”
“I’m bringing chaos into your home.”
Conner glanced around. “You think there wasn’t chaos before you got here?”
Tim went to the kitchen counter and picked up his phone. “Keys?”
“Inside.”
“Phone?”
“Also inside.”
“Shoes?”
You looked down at your socks.
“Right,” Tim said.
“I’m not at my best right now.”
Conner leaned against the back of the couch. “I disagree.”
You refused to look at him too quickly. “Do you flirt with all distressed women, or am I getting special treatment?”
“Special treatment,” Conner said immediately.
Tim unlocked his phone. “He flirts with a lot of people.”
“Betrayal.”
“But this is special treatment.”
You looked at Tim.
He was studying his phone like he had not just said something that had no business sounding intimate.
Conner grinned. “See? Tim’s honest. Terrifying, but honest.”
“I regret knocking.”
“No, you don’t.”
You did not. That was becoming an issue.
Tim called the locksmith with the same smooth efficiency he seemed to bring to everything: apartment number, floor, no pets or children inside, stove off. His eyes flicked to you for confirmation at the stove part, and you nodded quickly because your brain had apparently decided that being locked out was the least dangerous thing happening tonight.
Conner drifted into the kitchen. “Tea?”
“That’s okay.”
“It wasn’t a courtesy offer. You’re standing in our living room looking like your door personally betrayed you.”
“It did.”
“Decaf,” Tim said, phone still at his ear. “She doesn’t drink anything with caffeine this late.”
You blinked.
Conner opened a cabinet and took down three mugs. “He remembers things.”
“I said that once.”
“Three months ago,” Conner said. “Mailroom. You had a cup from the cafe on Sixth and said caffeine after five makes you feel like you’re about to receive a prophecy.”
Tim turned slightly away, but the back of his neck went faintly red.
You stared at Conner. “Why do you remember that?”
His grin softened at the edges. “You were funny.”
“That’s your explanation?”
“Do you want a worse one?”
Tim ended the call before you could answer. “Forty-five minutes if the person before you is quick. Ninety if they’re not.”
“Forty-five minutes isn’t terrible.”
Conner put the kettle on. “Barely enough time to be neighborly.”
“Conner,” Tim said.
“What? I’m devastated by the limited window of hospitality.”
Tim set his phone down and looked at you. “Sit down.”
It should not have sounded like anything. It was practical. Calm. Barely even a command.
Your stomach dipped anyway.
Conner’s eyes narrowed with interest.
You sat.
The couch was softer than it looked, and sinking into it made the apartment feel more intimate than it had a moment ago. Tim came back with a folded blanket and held it out to you.
You stared at it.
His brow creased. “Are you cold?”
“A little.”
“You were trying not to show it.”
“It’s July.”
“The hallway has terrible circulation, and you’re in shorts.”
Conner set a mug on the coffee table. “He does this.”
“Hands people blankets?”
“Acts like knowing you’re cold is the same as knowing the weather.”
Tim still held the blanket out. “Do you want it or not?”
You took it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The blanket smelled like them, and that was its own problem.
Conner sat beside you with just enough space to be polite and not enough to be innocent. Tim took the armchair angled toward the couch. For a few minutes, the three of you managed something close to normal conversation. Conner asked how the lockout happened and looked personally delighted when you confessed you had trusted the door not to latch. Tim asked if your landlord kept a spare and looked unsurprised when you said the landlord’s emergency preparedness began and ended with a voicemail inbox no one checked.
Then Conner told you he had once walked into a glass door because he forgot it was closed.
“At speed,” he said.
Tim closed his eyes. “Normal walking speed.”
“Emotionally, I was moving very fast.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself, and Conner looked so pleased that warmth climbed the back of your neck.
This was the problem with them. They were easy together. Worse, they were easy with you. Conner made room for you in the rhythm of his teasing as if you had always belonged there. Tim watched the exchange with a private little curve at his mouth, quiet until he said something dry and perfectly aimed. They didn’t make you feel like an intruder, even when you were sitting in their apartment wearing borrowed warmth and waiting for a locksmith to return you to the life you had accidentally left across the hall.
You looked at the bruise near Tim’s collar again before you could stop yourself.
Tim saw.
Of course he did.
Conner saw Tim seeing.
Of course he did.
“You’re wondering,” Conner said.
You looked down at your tea. “I wasn’t going to ask.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No,” you admitted. “It’s not.”
Tim leaned forward slightly, mug between his hands. “Later.”
The word landed carefully. Not a dismissal. Not an answer either.
You glanced up. “Later?”
“If you still want to know.”
Something about that made the room feel smaller.
Conner’s knee bumped yours. “For the record, his version of later means he will prepare a twenty-slide slideshow explanation and somehow still make it sound like he’s hiding eighty percent of the facts.”
Tim gave him a look. “Your version of later is telling a story out of order and leaving out the important parts because you got distracted by a dog.”
“It was a very good dog.”
“The dog was irrelevant.”
“The dog was emotionally relevant.”
You smiled into your mug. “I’m starting to understand a lot about how this household functions.”
Conner turned to you. “Please explain it to us when you figure it out.”
Tim’s gaze stayed on your face. “You don’t have to make yourself smaller around us.”
The words came so quietly that for a second you thought you had misheard him.
You lowered the mug. “What?”
“You do it when you think you’re interrupting.” Tim’s eyes were steady. “You fold in on yourself and look for an exit. You’ve done it twice since you walked in.”
Conner’s teasing faded, though his hand remained warm near your knee. “You’re not interrupting.”
“I am literally here because I locked myself out.”
“We invited you in,” Tim said.
“Because you’re nice.”
Conner made a face. “Nice.”
“You object to nice?”
“Nice is what people call you when they don’t want to say anything interesting.”
Tim’s mouth twitched. “He wants you to call him charming.”
“I am charming.”
“You’re fishing.”
“I don’t have to fish. I’m right here.”
You shook your head, but you were smiling. “You’re impossible.”
Conner brightened. “That one I’ll take.”
The laughter faded slower this time. Tim still watched you, careful and intent, and Conner was closer than he had been a few minutes ago. Not touching. Close enough that you knew he was choosing not to.
You felt the shape of the silence before anyone spoke.
It had been there all night, under the jokes and the tea and the easy domestic warmth of their apartment. Maybe it had been there for months. It lived in the way Conner flirted like he was daring you to notice that he only did it this much with you. It lived in the way Tim remembered things that should have been forgettable. It lived in the way they looked at each other and then at you, as if they were having a conversation just beneath the one you could hear.
You set your mug down. “You both keep doing that.”
Tim’s gaze sharpened. “Doing what?”
“Looking at each other.”
Conner leaned back slightly. “We do live together. Looking happens.”
“You know what I mean.”
Tim’s expression became very careful. “Do we?”
That was worse than denial.
You could take it back. You could laugh, blame the lockout, say you were tired and embarrassed and unused to being in their apartment after midnight. Tim would let you. Conner probably would too, though he would find some gentle joke to cover the retreat.
But Conner’s flirtation had never felt careless, and Tim’s attention had never felt accidental.
“You’ve been flirting with me for months,” you said, looking at Conner because he was the easier one to accuse.
His grin returned, smaller and warmer. “Yeah.”
Just like that.
No evasion. No joke. No easy escape.
You looked at Tim. “And you’ve been…”
“Flirting badly?” Conner offered.
Tim ignored him. “Carefully.”
Your breath caught.
Conner’s grin softened into something fond. “That was pretty much my reaction too.”
“Why?” you asked, though you were not entirely sure which one of them you meant.
Conner shifted, turning toward you. “Because you’re gorgeous and funny, and you look at Tim like you’re trying to solve him.”
“I do not.”
“You do. It’s very cute. Doomed, obviously, because he comes with too many footnotes, but cute.”
“I’m right here,” Tim said.
“You’re the footnotes.”
“You said gorgeous first,” you said, because apparently your mouth had decided to make a record of the most dangerous part.
Conner’s eyes warmed. “I did.”
Tim leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “Because you’re kind. Because you pay attention without making a performance of it. Because you asked if I needed help before you asked what happened when you saw blood on my shirt.”
You remembered that night too well: the elevator doors opening after two in the morning, Conner’s arm around Tim’s waist, Tim’s sleeve torn and dark at the cuff. You had asked if they needed help. Tim had said no. Conner had looked like he wanted to say yes.
“You said no,” you said.
“I lied.”
The admission sat between you.
Conner looked down at his hands.
Tim’s voice was quieter when he spoke again. “We like you. Both of us. We’ve been trying not to make that your problem.”
Your fingers tightened in the blanket.
Conner looked back up. “And if it is a problem, we go back to tea, and I make fun of your door until the locksmith gets here.”
“You can’t just say that and then insult my door.”
“I can. I contain multitudes.”
“You absolutely don’t.”
“I contain at least three.”
Tim’s mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed on you. He looked calm, except his hands had gone very still.
You drew in a breath. “I like you too.”
Conner’s face changed.
“Both of you,” you added, because there was no dignified way out now and therefore no point trying to invent one. “Which is probably obvious because you both notice everything.”
Tim’s gaze softened. Conner looked delighted enough to be dangerous.
“You’re not subtle,” Conner said.
“I’m going to leave.”
“You don’t have shoes.”
“You would stop me over shoes?”
“Yes,” Tim and Conner said at the same time.
Then Tim added, “Because of the shoes.”
Conner added, “Sure. Shoes.”
You covered your face with both hands. “This is humiliating.”
Conner moved closer, still not touching you. “It isn’t.”
“It feels like it is.”
“That’s because you’re not used to getting what you want.”
The words landed too precisely, and from Conner of all people, delivered without the grin that usually softened the blow.
You lowered your hands slowly. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Be perceptive. That’s Tim’s thing.”
“I have depths.”
“You have dimples and poor impulse control.”
“You noticed my dimples?”
Tim’s voice was low when he said, “She notices everything she pretends not to want.”
You turned to him.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
“What happens now?” you asked.
Tim stood and crossed to you. Conner stayed beside you, quieter now, watching Tim with a familiarity that made heat curl low in your stomach. Tim crouched in front of the couch, bringing himself level with you.
“That depends on what you want,” he said.
You looked at him, then at Conner. “I want to stop pretending.”
Conner’s breath changed.
Tim’s hand settled on your knee over the blanket, warm and steady. “For tonight?”
You swallowed. “For tonight. Maybe even after.”
Tim’s thumb moved once. “Good.”
Conner made a quiet sound beside you, almost a laugh and almost not. You glanced at him, and he lifted both hands.
“I’m being very patient,” he said.
“You?”
“I know. Growth.”
Tim’s mouth curved faintly. “Can I kiss you?”
It was a simple question. It still rearranged the air in your lungs.
“Yes.”
Tim kissed you carefully at first.
That should have been expected. Tim had been careful all night. Careful with the blanket, careful with the call, careful with the space he gave you to choose. His mouth brushed yours once, light enough to let you change your mind, then again with a little more pressure when you did not pull away. His hand came up to your cheek, his fingers warm along your jaw, and you made a small sound before you could stop yourself.
Conner exhaled beside you.
Tim heard it. You felt the second he did, the brief pause against your mouth, the way his thumb shifted against your cheek.
Then he kissed you deeper.
Your hand lifted to his shirt, fingers curling in the soft fabric. Tim made a quiet sound into your mouth, and Conner muttered something under his breath that sounded like half a curse.
Tim drew back first, though not far. His eyes had gone dark.
Conner’s gaze dropped to your mouth. “My turn?”
You looked at him. “You’re asking?”
“I can be respectful.”
“That keeps surprising me.”
“And you keep wounding me.”
Tim shifted back enough to give Conner room. Conner turned toward you on the couch, one knee folding onto the cushion. His grin was there, but it shook at the edges.
“You nervous?” you asked.
“Don’t sound so happy about it.”
“I’m trying to be supportive.”
Tim said, “You look very brave.”
Conner pointed at him. “That was mean.”
You laughed, and Conner kissed the sound right out of your mouth.
There was nothing careful about Conner’s kiss except the way he held you. His mouth was warm, eager, and smiling for the first second, then hungry when you kissed him back. His hand found your waist, fingers flexing like he had to remind himself not to press too hard. He kissed like he had spent months thinking about it and had decided restraint deserved credit but not loyalty.
Tim rose from the floor.
Conner pulled back just enough to glance at him. “Don’t go far.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Tim sat on your other side.
The couch became too small immediately. Tim’s thigh pressed lightly against yours. Conner’s hand stayed at your waist. You were between them with your mouth wet from both of their kisses, the forgotten locksmith somewhere in the city and your laundry cooling in their chair.
Tim touched your chin, turning your face gently back to him. “Still okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
The word went through you.
Conner noticed. Of course he did.
“Oh,” he said softly. “That one?”
Your face heated. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Be smug.”
Conner smiled against your shoulder. “I’m not smug. I’m delighted.”
Tim’s eyes searched your face. “You like praise.”
“Maybe.”
Conner laughed, low and pleased. “That means yes.”
Tim kissed you again, and Conner’s mouth found your neck. His lips moved beneath your ear, teasing at first, then more deliberate when you tipped your head without thinking. Tim swallowed your gasp, his hand sliding to the back of your neck.
“There,” Conner murmured against your skin.
Tim’s voice was calm, but there was heat under it now. “You like him talking.”
You opened your eyes.
Tim was watching you.
“You do,” Conner said, delighted. “That is useful information.”
“You’re not supposed to use it against me.”
Conner kissed your neck again. “Sweetheart, we are absolutely going to use it against you.”
Tim’s thumb moved along your jaw. “Only if you want us to.”
You looked at him. “I do.”
Conner’s hand tightened at your waist.
The words changed the room. It had been warm before. Now it was something else, something focused and charged. Tim’s carefulness did not vanish, but it shifted, turning sharper at the edges. Conner’s grin became more intent.
Tim’s gaze flicked toward the door a second before Conner’s head turned.
You blinked. “What?”
“Elevator,” Conner said, irritation flashing across his face. “Fourth floor.”
A knock came a moment later.
Tim’s mouth tightened. “Locksmith.”
Conner stared toward the door like the man had personally wronged him. “I hate being responsible.”
“You’re not responsible,” Tim said. “You’re annoyed.”
“I contain multitudes.”
Tim looked at you. “Stay here. I’ll handle it.”
“You don’t have to pay.”
“I know.”
“Tim.”
“You can argue with me tomorrow.”
Conner leaned toward you as Tim went to the door. “He says that because he knows he’ll win tonight.”
“He will not.”
Conner smiled. “He might.”
Tim opened the door, and his voice shifted into polite efficiency. You heard the locksmith confirm the unit number, then the low murmur of Tim explaining the lockout from the hallway. A minute later, Tim glanced back toward you.
“He needs you to confirm it’s your apartment.”
You stood, setting the blanket aside before Conner could make another comment. “I know. I’m coming.”
Conner followed you only as far as the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded while you crossed the hall. The locksmith was waiting beside your door with a small tool case in one hand and the bored patience of someone who had rescued half the city from its own deadbolts.
“ID inside?” he asked.
“Phone, keys, dignity,” you said. “All inside.”
Conner made a strangled sound behind you.
Tim’s mouth twitched. “Her ID is inside too.”
The locksmith only nodded, apparently unmoved by tragedy. “I’ll get it open, then you can show me.”
It took less than five minutes, which somehow made the whole thing worse. The lock gave with a neat little click, and your apartment opened like it had not caused any trouble at all.
You stepped inside first.
Your phone was exactly where you had left it, charging on the counter beside your keys. Your shoes were by the door. Your laundry basket was still across the hall in Tim and Conner’s living room, because apparently part of your life had already defected to 4B.
You grabbed your phone and keys, showed your ID to the locksmith, and tried not to look too mortified while Tim paid him before you could get a word in.
“Tim,” you said.
He slid his wallet back into his pocket. “Tomorrow.”
“You’re very bossy for someone doing me a favor.”
Conner, still in his doorway, grinned. “She’s learning.”
Then the locksmith left, and the hallway settled into silence. Your apartment stood open behind you. Their apartment stood open across from you. The problem was solved, which should have made leaving simple.
It did not.
You glanced back into their living room, where your laundry basket still sat in the armchair.
“I should grab that,” you said.
Conner picked it up before you could cross the room. “Here.”
“Thank you.”
You took the basket from him, the weight of warm laundry suddenly feeling like the least important thing in the world. Tim said nothing. He only watched you, giving you enough room to choose and making the choice impossible to ignore.
Your fingers tightened around your keys.
“I’m going to put this inside,” you said.
Conner’s expression flickered, though he covered it quickly. “Yeah. Of course.”
Tim nodded. “Okay.”
You looked between them, your pulse beginning to climb again for an entirely different reason. “And then I’m coming back.”
Conner went very still.
Tim’s lips parted slightly, the closest you had ever seen him come to being caught off guard.
You swallowed. “Unless that’s not what you want.”
Conner laughed once, breathless and disbelieving. “Are you kidding?”
Tim stepped closer, stopping just before touching you. “That’s what we want.”
You nodded before your nerve could fail, then stepped back into your apartment with your keys and your laundry basket.
Everything looked exactly as you had left it. Shoes by the door. The kitchen counter empty now except for the charger you had abandoned there. Phone and keys in your hand this time, because apparently you were capable of learning from recent trauma when properly motivated.
You set the basket down in your bedroom without putting anything away because there were limits to how responsible one person could become in a single night. Then you stepped back into the hallway and locked your apartment carefully behind you.
You checked the handle twice.
From across the hall, Conner called, “Proud of you.”
“Shut up.”
His laugh drifted from inside 4B, warm and pleased.
Tim was waiting in the open doorway. He did not lean like Conner would have. He stood with one hand on the door, posture easy only because he was choosing it. His eyes moved over you, slower now, no longer checking for injury or embarrassment.
You lifted your keys slightly. “I brought them this time.”
Tim’s gaze returned to your face. “Good.”
The word was quiet. It still made heat slide through you.
From inside, Conner called, “Was that flirting? Because that sounded like flirting.”
Tim’s mouth twitched. “Come in.”
You stepped inside.
This time, the door closing behind you did not sound like a mistake.
For a moment, nobody moved.
That was the difference, you thought. Before, you had crossed the hall because you needed help. Now your apartment was open, your phone was in your hand, your keys were safely curled in your palm, and there was no practical reason to be standing in Tim and Conner’s living room again.
No practical reason at all.
Conner seemed to understand it at the same time you did. The teasing look on his face softened into something more intent, his gaze dropping briefly to your mouth before lifting again.
Tim closed the door behind you. The sound was quieter than your own door had been earlier, but it still felt final in a way that made your pulse climb.
Conner broke first, because of course he did.
“He thought you were cute with the laundry basket,” Tim said.
“Tim.”
“He did.”
Conner gave him an offended look. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am.”
“You’re exposing me.”
“You were going to expose yourself eventually.”
Conner stopped. “That was either very innocent or very dirty.”
Tim walked past him. “Yes.”
You laughed, and Conner looked at you like the sound was a reward. It eased the tension without getting rid of it. If anything, it made the room feel warmer, because now the joke was not covering uncertainty. It was circling something all three of you had already chosen not to step away from.
Tim stopped in front of you. “Still okay?”
“Yes.”
“Tell us if that changes.”
“I will.”
Conner came up behind Tim, close but not crowding. His gaze stayed on you, but his hand slid around Tim’s waist like it belonged there.
“Can I kiss you again?” he asked.
Your pulse climbed. “Yes.”
Conner’s smile softened for half a second before it sharpened into something worse. “Good.”
Tim glanced over his shoulder. “You’re being patient.”
“I’m showing off.”
“For her?”
Conner’s eyes flicked back to you. “Obviously.”
Your breath caught.
Tim did not move away when Conner stepped closer. If anything, he leaned back by barely a fraction, just enough for you to see it.
Conner noticed. So did you.
“You’re helping,” Conner murmured.
Tim’s gaze stayed on you. “Maybe.”
Conner smiled slowly and pressed his mouth to Tim’s shoulder, his eyes still on you. “You like that?”
“Yes,” you said, because there was no point pretending now.
Tim’s pupils darkened.
Conner’s smile sharpened. “Come here.”
You did.
Conner caught your hand and tugged you in, careful despite his obvious strength. Tim’s hand settled at your back as soon as you were close enough, and then you were between them, Conner in front of you and Tim behind you, the heat of both their bodies making the apartment feel suddenly too warm.
Conner bent his head and kissed you.
This time, the kiss knew you had chosen to come back. His mouth opened against yours almost immediately, his hand sliding into your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist. Behind you, Tim’s palm moved slowly up your spine and down again, his touch firm enough that you felt guided rather than merely held.
Conner pulled back just enough to speak against your mouth. “You came back.”
“Yes.”
“No lockout. No excuse.”
Your breath caught.
His grin softened for half a second before turning dangerous again. “Just you.”
The words hit harder than they should have, because there was nothing accidental left to hide behind now.
Tim’s hand pressed flat against your back, his voice low near your ear. “Good girl.”
You went still.
Conner’s grin vanished, his eyes searching your face. “Too much?”
Your face burned. “No.”
Tim’s voice was near your ear. “You liked that.”
You closed your eyes. “Maybe.”
Conner laughed softly. “Still means yes.”
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I have been flirting with you for months. I earned this.”
Tim’s mouth brushed your shoulder. “We can use that?”
You nodded, then remembered his insistence earlier. “Yes.”
Conner’s voice roughened. “Fuck, sweetheart.”
Tim’s hand slid from your back to your hip. “And that?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
The word sank under your skin, warm and devastating. Conner watched it happen like he had discovered a new favorite thing.
“You two are going to kill me,” you said.
Conner smiled. “Probably not. Tim would get stressed about the paperwork.”
Tim bit lightly at your neck.
You gasped, and Conner’s smile turned triumphant.
“Careful,” Conner murmured, though he sounded anything but sorry. “You’re going to make him forget he’s pretending to be patient.”
Tim’s hand tightened at your hip. “You talk too much.”
“You love my mouth.”
“I do.”
Conner’s grin softened for half a second before turning wicked again. “Want to show her?”
Tim went still behind you.
Your heart kicked.
Conner’s gaze stayed on Tim, but his hand came up to cup your cheek. “Only if she wants.”
Tim’s mouth hovered near your ear. “Do you?”
You wanted to see them kiss properly, wanted it so badly that embarrassment felt pointless. You wanted to see the proof of them together while standing between them, not outside it.
“Yes,” you said.
Conner’s eyes flicked to yours. “Yeah?”
“Please.”
That changed him too.
Conner leaned past you, and Tim met him halfway.
Watching them kiss from inches away was different from imagining it. Conner’s hand remained on your face while his mouth found Tim’s, and Tim’s arm stayed around your waist. You felt the shift in Tim’s body when Conner opened his mouth against his. You heard Conner’s low hum of satisfaction. You saw Tim’s hand come up to Conner’s jaw, holding him still while the kiss turned slower and deeper.
It made your knees weak.
Conner pulled away first, breathing harder. His thumb moved over your cheek.
“Still watching?”
“Yes.”
Tim’s hand slid lower on your hip. “Bedroom.”
The single word emptied your head.
Conner’s grin returned, but his eyes were dark. “Still with us?”
“Yes.”
Tim’s voice was lower when he said, “Say it clearly.”
You looked at him over your shoulder. “I want you to take me to bed.”
Conner’s hand tightened.
“Both of you,” you added.
Tim kissed the side of your neck once, almost gentle. “Then come with us.”
Their bedroom was down a short hallway, past a bathroom with an open door and a glimpse of more first-aid supplies than any normal household needed.
You noticed. Tim noticed you noticing.
Neither of you said anything this time.
Conner pushed the bedroom door open with his shoulder. “For the record, this is going much better than the lockout.”
“Conner,” Tim said.
“What? Important context.”
You laughed, nerves loosening, and let them pull you into the room.
The bedroom was neater than you expected, but not impersonal. That surprised you more than it should have. A large bed sat against the far wall, dark sheets rumpled, two pillows clearly in use and a third half-buried near the headboard. A chair in the corner held a hoodie. One nightstand had a closed laptop and a glass of water. The other held a small ceramic dish with rings, loose change, and something that looked suspiciously like a lockpick.
You did not comment.
Conner noticed anyway. “You’re very polite.”
“I have survival instincts.”
Tim closed the door. “Debatable. You knocked on our door.”
“You invited me in.”
“Also debatable judgment.”
Conner turned to face you, walking backward toward the bed. “Hear that? He’s flirting again.”
“I’m starting to recognize the signs.”
Tim’s eyes stayed on you. “Good.”
The room warmed around that word.
Conner sat on the edge of the bed and tugged you gently between his knees. His hands settled on your hips, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt just enough to touch bare skin. He looked up at you with all that smug confidence softened by want.
“Can I take this off?” he asked.
You looked at Tim.
He stood a few feet away, watching you with that impossible attention. “You can look at me if you need to,” he said. “But answer him.”
Your pulse stumbled.
“Yes,” you said, looking back at Conner. “You can.”
Conner smiled. “Thank you.”
He pulled your shirt up slowly, giving you time to lift your arms before he tossed it aside. The cool air made you suddenly aware that you had not planned any of this. Your bra was plain. Your shorts were soft and ordinary. You were standing in their bedroom dressed for an accidental night, not a seduction.
Conner’s hands tightened gently at your waist. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Try to disappear.”
Tim moved behind you, his hands settling on your shoulders. “You’re beautiful.”
You believed he meant it, which made it worse.
Conner kissed your stomach just above the waistband of your shorts. “So beautiful.”
Your hand found his hair before you could stop yourself. Conner’s eyes fluttered for a second, and his smile turned pleased.
“Yeah,” he said. “You can do that.”
You threaded your fingers deeper into his hair and tugged lightly.
Conner’s mouth parted.
Tim’s hand slid down your arm. “He likes that.”
Conner looked past you. “Whose side are you on?”
“Hers.”
Heat twisted low in your belly.
Tim’s fingers found the waistband of your shorts. “Can I?”
“Yes.”
He pushed them down slowly, his knuckles brushing your hips as he went. You stepped out of them, one hand on Conner’s shoulder, Tim’s body warm behind you. Conner kissed your thigh, then your hip, then looked up at you with his hands still at your waist.
“You have no idea how many times I thought about this,” Conner said.
“Conner,” Tim said, though his voice had roughened.
“What? She should know.”
You looked down at him. “You thought about undressing me?”
Conner’s grin flashed. “Among other things.”
Your face heated. Tim’s mouth brushed your shoulder.
“He likes making you flustered,” Tim said.
“I noticed.”
“You get mean when you’re flustered,” Conner said. “I like it.”
“You would.”
“Absolutely.”
Tim’s hands moved to the clasp of your bra. “Can I?”
You nodded. “Yes.”
He opened it with one hand because apparently he believed in efficiency as a personal attack. Conner saw your expression and laughed.
“I know,” he said. “It’s annoying.”
Tim slid the straps down your arms and removed the bra. Conner’s gaze dropped, and his amusement faded into open hunger. The sudden silence from him felt better than a compliment.
Tim’s voice was low by your ear. “Still okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
Your breath caught.
Conner’s eyes brightened. “Oh, she really likes that.”
“Stop talking like I’m not here.”
Conner kissed your stomach again. “I’m talking because you are here.”
Tim’s hands settled at your hips. “On the bed.”
Conner shifted back, giving you room. You climbed onto the mattress with less grace than you would have preferred, and Conner followed, stretching out beside you on one elbow. Tim stayed standing for a moment, eyes moving over you with quiet intensity.
“You still have too many clothes on,” you said, because if you did not say something, you were going to combust.
Conner made an approving sound. “Good point.”
Tim pulled his shirt off.
He did not make a show of it. That made it worse. The fabric went over his head, his hair fell messier afterward, and then he was bare from the waist up, lean muscle, pale scars, and fading bruises visible in the low light. Some were ordinary enough. Some were not.
Your eyes moved over them before you could stop yourself.
Tim let you look.
“Later,” he said again, softer this time.
“I’m holding you to that.”
Conner grinned. “She’s bossy.”
Tim’s gaze returned to your face. “I noticed.”
Conner pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it aside, and whatever clever reply you had been preparing disappeared. You had known he was built. It had been hard not to know. Seeing him shirtless still felt unfair.
Conner leaned back on his hands. “Hi.”
“Shut up.”
His grin widened. “You’re staring.”
“You have a terrible personality. I’m balancing the scales.”
Tim huffed a laugh. Conner looked deeply pleased with both of you.
You sat up on your knees between them, pulse thudding hard. The plan of the moment seemed to form only when your eyes dropped to Conner’s waistband, then Tim’s. Want moved through you, not neat or patient, but eager enough to make you brave.
“I want to touch you,” you said.
Conner’s expression sharpened.
Tim’s eyes darkened. “Both of us?”
“Yes.”
Conner’s grin returned, though there was strain beneath it now. “That sounded promising.”
You looked at Tim. “Is that okay?”
Tim stepped closer to the bed. “You don’t need permission to want.”
Conner’s voice dropped. “But you have it.”
The heat of that settled low in your body.
Tim sat against the headboard, and Conner stretched out beside him, both of them facing you with an attention that made your skin feel too sensitive. You moved between them, kneeling, and reached for Conner first because he was looking at you like he might die if you did not.
“Impatient,” you murmured.
Conner laughed, but it came out rough. “I have been patient for months.”
Tim said, “He has not.”
“I have been patient by my standards.”
“That’s fair,” Tim allowed.
You tugged at Conner’s pajama pants. “Can I?”
“Yes.”
Conner lifted his hips, helping you push the fabric down. He was not wearing anything beneath them, which made your breath catch. He noticed, of course. He was Conner.
“Convenient, right?”
“You planned this?”
“I didn’t plan for you to get locked out. I did hope.”
“You hoped I’d get locked out?”
“I hoped you’d knock.”
Tim’s voice softened. “Conner.”
Conner’s smugness faltered into something honest. “What? I did.”
Your chest tightened.
You wrapped your hand around him before the moment could become too tender to survive. Conner groaned immediately, head falling back against the pillows. The sound gave you courage. He was hot and hard in your hand, heavier than you expected, his hips lifting slightly into your touch.
Tim watched the movement with dark, focused eyes.
“Like this,” he murmured, reaching over to cover your hand with his.
Conner swore.
Tim guided your grip, adjusting the pressure, the pace, the small twist of your wrist that made Conner’s thighs tense. It was obscene and intimate, Tim teaching you Conner’s body with quiet confidence while Conner tried and failed to look anything but wrecked.
“You look good like that,” Conner said, voice strained.
“Touching you?”
“With Tim showing you how.”
Your breath caught.
Tim’s fingers tightened over yours. “You like that?”
“Yes.”
Conner made a rough sound. “Fuck.”
You leaned down and kissed the head of Conner’s cock, tentative at first. He went still beneath you.
Tim’s hand left yours and moved to the back of Conner’s neck, fingers slipping into his hair. “Breathe.”
Conner laughed unevenly. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.”
You took Conner into your mouth.
His hand fisted in the sheets. Tim’s fingers tightened in his hair, and Conner groaned, low and broken, as you worked him slowly. You were careful at first, learning what made his breathing change, what made his hips twitch, what made his hand lift toward your hair and stop because he was trying very hard not to push.
You pulled back enough to look up at him. “You can touch me.”
Conner’s eyes were dark. “Yeah?”
You nodded.
His hand slid into your hair gently, cradling rather than guiding. For all his flirting, all his smugness, there was something almost reverent in the way he touched you now. It made your stomach flutter.
You drew back, heat in your face. “You’re both impossible.”
Conner’s grin was dazed. “And yet you came back.”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“No,” Conner said. “Best mistake you ever made.”
Tim’s hand moved from Conner’s hair to your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Do you want me too?”
Your eyes dropped to his sweatpants.
“Yes.”
Conner exhaled hard. “Yeah, she does.”
Tim’s gaze stayed on you. “Come here, then.”
You shifted toward him, and Conner moved behind you, his chest warm against your back as if he could not stand to be far. Tim pushed his sweatpants down, and the sight of him hard and flushed made your mouth go dry.
Tim was quiet where Conner was shameless, but his restraint had cracks in it now. You could see them in the tension of his jaw, the way his fingers curled against the sheets, the intensity in his eyes as you wrapped your hand around him.
He inhaled sharply.
Conner kissed your shoulder from behind. “There.”
Tim’s eyes flicked to him.
Conner smiled against your skin. “Let her hear you.”
Tim looked back at you, then exhaled slowly. When you stroked him again, he let the groan out.
The sound went straight through you.
You leaned down and took him into your mouth.
Tim’s hand came to your hair, careful at first, barely resting there. Conner stayed behind you, one arm around your waist, his mouth moving lazily along your shoulder while you worked Tim with your mouth and hand. The contrast between them was dizzying. Conner was warm and restless against your back, still hard, still wanting. Tim was taut beneath your hands, controlled and quiet until you did something right and his breath caught.
“That’s it,” Tim said, voice low. “Just like that.”
Conner’s hand slid over your stomach. “You look so pretty with your mouth full.”
The words made you clench around nothing.
Conner felt the change because his hand was low enough to catch the movement of your body.
“Oh,” he murmured. “You liked that.”
Tim’s fingers tightened gently in your hair. “She likes you talking.”
Conner’s grin pressed against your shoulder. “I can do that.”
You moaned around Tim, and his hips shifted before he forced himself still.
“Careful,” Conner said softly, and there was no tease in it this time.
“I am.”
“I know.”
The trust in those two words made something inside you ache.
Tim stroked your cheek with his thumb. “Tap my thigh if you need a break.”
You did not need one yet, but you touched his thigh once to show you understood. His expression softened for a second.
“Good.”
Conner’s hand dipped lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. You startled around Tim, and he groaned, his head falling back for a moment.
Conner’s fingers found you wet.
“Tim,” Conner said, rough with delight. “She’s soaked.”
You pulled off Tim with a gasp. “Conner.”
“What?” His fingers moved slowly, teasing. “You are.”
Tim’s eyes dropped to where Conner’s hand disappeared between your thighs. “Because she likes being watched.”
Your face heated.
Conner circled your clit lightly, and your breath broke. “And praised.”
Tim’s hand slid along your jaw. “And told what to do.”
You looked up at him, helpless.
Tim’s control thinned into something darker. “Open your mouth.”
You did.
He guided himself back between your lips, slow enough to let you adjust, his eyes never leaving yours. Conner’s fingers kept moving between your thighs, gentle but devastating, while Tim fucked your mouth in shallow, controlled thrusts that made your head spin.
It was not rough yet. It was more restraint than force, Tim testing your limits while Conner touched you through it. Your body responded as if it had been waiting for exactly this: Conner’s fingers, Tim’s cock on your tongue, both of their voices low and focused around you.
“Good girl,” Conner murmured. “Taking him so well.”
Tim’s breath hitched. “Conner.”
“What? She is.”
You moaned around Tim again, and his hand tightened in your hair.
“Tap if you need me to stop,” he said, voice strained.
You touched his thigh once again, not a stop. An answer.
Tim understood. His eyes darkened further.
“Good.”
Conner’s fingers slowed, then withdrew, and you made a sound of complaint that came out muffled around Tim.
Conner laughed softly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’re going to take care of you.”
Tim pulled out of your mouth slowly, his thumb brushing your lower lip. Your jaw ached pleasantly, your breath uneven, your whole body warm and wanting.
Conner’s arms wrapped around your waist, and he pulled you back against him. “Our turn.”
You blinked. “Your turn?”
Conner kissed your neck. “We got your mouth. You get ours.”
Tim’s gaze dragged over you. “On your back.”
Your body obeyed before you could overthink it.
You lay back against the pillows while Conner pulled your underwear down your legs and tossed it aside. Tim moved to one side of you, Conner to the other, both of them looking down at you with expressions that made your thighs press together.
Conner caught the motion and grinned. “Shy now?”
“You’re both staring.”
“Yeah,” Conner said. “We’re going to keep doing that.”
Tim’s hand settled on your knee. “Open your legs.”
You did, slowly.
Conner made a low appreciative sound that nearly made you close them again. Tim’s grip tightened just enough to stop you.
“Don’t hide,” Tim said.
The command was quiet, but it sank deep.
Conner kissed the inside of your thigh, his mouth warm and teasing. “He says that because he wants to look too.”
Tim’s eyes flicked to him. “Conner.”
“You do.”
“Yes,” Tim said, and the honesty made your stomach clench.
Conner looked delighted by Tim’s lack of denial. Then he bent and licked into you without warning.
Your back arched.
Tim’s hand pressed to your hip, steadying you. Conner ate you out like he had been waiting all night to prove a point, messy and eager, his hands hooked beneath your thighs. He made soft pleased sounds against you every time you reacted, like your gasps were encouraging him. You grabbed at the sheets, then at Tim’s wrist, and Tim let you hold on.
Conner lifted his head just enough to look at you. “You taste so good.”
You made a sound that was barely words.
Tim’s thumb stroked your hip. “She likes when you tell her.”
Conner smiled. “I know.”
Then he put his mouth back on you.
Tim leaned down and kissed you while Conner worked between your thighs. The kiss was slower than Conner’s mouth, deep and steady, giving you somewhere to put the sounds you could not hold back. Conner’s tongue moved over your clit, then lower, then back again, learning quickly, greedy when your thighs trembled around his shoulders.
You broke the kiss. “Conner.”
He hummed against you.
Tim’s hand slid into your hair. “What do you need?”
“I don’t know.”
Conner lifted his head, lips wet, eyes bright. “You need more?”
“Yes.”
Tim looked at Conner. “Move.”
Conner’s brows rose. “Bossy.”
“You like it.”
Conner grinned and shifted aside. “Yeah, I do.”
Tim moved between your thighs, and the change in him was immediate. Where Conner had been hungry and teasing, Tim was precise. His hands held your hips, his mouth lowered to you, and the first slow stroke of his tongue made you gasp so hard Conner laughed near your shoulder.
“Oh, he found it.”
Tim’s eyes flicked up.
Conner kissed your breast, smiling against your skin. “I’m complimenting you.”
Tim’s tongue moved again, exact and merciless.
Your hand flew to his hair. Tim groaned against you, and the vibration nearly broke you. Conner’s mouth closed over your nipple, his hand kneading your breast while Tim ate you out with controlled, devastating focus.
“Tim,” you gasped.
Conner lifted his head. “Yeah, sweetheart. He’s good, isn’t he?”
You nodded desperately.
Tim’s fingers pressed into your thigh, holding you open when you started to shake. Conner kissed up your chest, your neck, your jaw, then caught your mouth in a messy kiss as Tim pushed two fingers into you.
You cried out against Conner’s mouth.
Conner smiled against your lips, voice rough with approval. “That’s it. Come on. Let Tim have it.”
Tim curled his fingers.
The orgasm hit hard enough to blank your thoughts. Your hips bucked into Tim’s mouth, your fingers tightening in his hair while Conner kissed you through it, murmuring praise against your lips. Tim didn’t stop until you were shaking and oversensitive, his mouth gentling only when you tugged at his hair and whimpered.
He kissed your thigh once before lifting his head.
Conner looked at him, eyes dark. “That was unfairly hot.”
Tim wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gaze fixed on you. “She’s not done.”
Your body, traitorous and desperate, tightened at the words.
Conner saw. His grin spread slowly. “No, she’s not.”
You tried to catch your breath. “I might be.”
Tim moved up your body, kissing your stomach, then your sternum, then your mouth. You tasted yourself on him and moaned, too overwhelmed to be embarrassed.
“You’re not done,” Tim said against your lips. “But you can be if you want.”
Conner’s hand moved soothingly over your thigh. “Your call.”
You looked between them. Conner’s face was flushed, his mouth swollen, his smugness tempered by want. Tim’s eyes were dark and steady, his control frayed just enough to show you what waited beneath it.
“I’m not done,” you said.
Conner exhaled. “Thank God.”
Tim’s mouth curved faintly. “How do you want us?”
The question made your stomach flip.
You knew what you wanted, or at least the shape of it. It had been forming since the couch, since Conner’s mouth and Tim’s hands and the unbearable way they looked at each other before looking back at you. Saying it out loud still felt like stepping off a ledge.
“I want Conner inside me,” you said, voice quieter than you meant it to be.
Conner went still.
Tim’s eyes sharpened. “And me?”
Your face burned, but you held his gaze. “I want you in my mouth.”
Conner cursed under his breath.
Tim’s hand came to your jaw, thumb brushing gently along the hinge. “At the same time?”
Your pulse kicked hard.
You had thought about it. You had wanted it. That did not make it any less intimidating when Tim said it plainly, careful and controlled and watching for the first sign that wanting had become too much.
“Yes. Please,” you said.
Conner’s hand moved over your thigh, warm and grounding. “We don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Tim’s thumb stilled against your jaw. “Have you done anything like that before?”
You shook your head.
His expression did not change, but the focus in his eyes sharpened. “Then we go slow.”
Conner nodded immediately. “Really slow.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” you said, embarrassed by how quickly it came out.
Conner’s mouth parted, his hand tightening on your thigh. “Fuck.”
Tim’s gaze dropped to your lips, then returned to your eyes. “Stopping and going slow aren’t the same thing. We’ll need a signal.”
That made your stomach twist.
Conner reached for the condom, tearing the packet open with less teasing than you expected from him. His hands were steady when he rolled it on, but his breathing was not. Tim watched him, then watched you watching Conner, and something silent passed between them before Conner moved behind you.
One hand settled at your hip. The other slid down your spine, warm and steady, guiding you onto your hands and knees.
The position made your pulse jump before Conner was even inside you. Tim was in front of you now, kneeling near the edge of the mattress with his hand at your jaw and his eyes fixed on your face.
“Still okay?” Conner asked, his voice lower than before.
“Yes.”
Tim’s thumb brushed the corner of your mouth. “Tap my thigh twice if you need me to stop. If you can’t reach me, tap the mattress. Conner will see.”
Conner’s hand tightened at your hip. “I’ll see.”
You nodded, throat already tight with nerves and want.
“Once means okay,” Tim said. “Twice means stop. If I’m not sure, I stop.”
“Okay.”
Conner leaned over you, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades. “We’ve got you.”
Then he pushed into you slowly.
The stretch made your breath catch. Conner leaned over your back for a moment, his breath rough against your shoulder as he eased in inch by inch. He was thick, and you were already sensitive, but the ache of it was good, deep and full and made gentler by the way he held himself back.
“That’s it,” Conner breathed. “You’re doing so good, baby.”
Tim’s hand stroked your hair. “Breathe.”
You did, shakily.
Conner bottomed out with a low groan, his hips pressed to yours, his body trembling with restraint. “Fuck, sweetheart.”
You reached for Tim’s thigh with one hand and touched once.
Tim’s eyes darkened, understanding. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
Conner’s hand moved over your hip. “You ready?”
“Yes.”
He began to move.
At first, Conner’s thrusts were slow and deep, one hand sliding up your spine. He made soft sounds every time you tightened around him, his hands braced on either side of you. Tim stayed near your head, fingers moving gently through your hair, letting you adjust to Conner before asking for more.
The tenderness of it nearly undid you.
Then Conner found the angle that made pleasure spark hot through your spine, and your hand tightened on Tim’s thigh.
Conner’s grip tightened at your hips. “There?”
“Yes.”
He did it again.
You gasped, and Tim’s hand paused in your hair.
“Ready for me?” Tim asked.
You looked up at him, Conner still moving inside you. “Yes.”
Tim shifted closer, one hand wrapping around himself. His other hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip.
“Open.”
You did.
He guided himself into your mouth slowly, the first slide of him over your tongue making Conner groan above you. Tim watched your face, controlled and intent, feeding you only as much as you could take. Conner’s rhythm slowed as if he was trying not to overwhelm you all at once.
Tim pulled back. “Good?”
You tapped his thigh once.
His expression softened for half a second. “Good girl.”
Conner’s hips stuttered. “Tim.”
Tim’s mouth curved faintly. “You like watching too.”
Conner laughed breathlessly. “Yeah. I really fucking do.”
Tim slid back into your mouth.
This time, he went deeper. You relaxed your throat as much as you could, eyes watering a little as he pressed forward. Conner bent over you just enough for his voice to reach your ear, murmuring praise while his hips rocked into you with slow, grinding thrusts.
“There you go,” Conner said. “Taking both of us so well.”
Tim’s hand held your jaw, gentle but firm. “Tap if you need to.”
You touched once again.
His control shifted.
The next thrust into your mouth was deeper, still careful, but with more force behind it. Conner felt your body tighten around him and groaned, his own rhythm picking up. You were full in every possible way, Conner stretching you open while Tim fucked your mouth, both of them close enough to touch, close enough to speak over you and around you.
“That’s it,” Tim said, voice rough. “Breathe through your nose.”
You tried, and he slowed when you needed it, then pushed deeper when you tapped once again. Your eyes watered. Your jaw ached. Pleasure pooled hot and heavy between your legs, sharpened by Conner’s cock inside you and the sight of Tim’s control cracking every time your throat tightened around him.
Conner’s hand slid between your bodies, finding your clit.
You moaned around Tim.
Tim groaned, his hips jerking before he caught himself. “Conner.”
“She liked it.”
“I noticed.”
Conner circled your clit again, slower this time, then faster when your thighs trembled around his hips. “You’re close, aren’t you?”
You could not answer, but your body did it for you.
Tim drew back enough for you to breathe. Saliva connected your mouth to him for a second before it broke, and the sight made Conner swear softly.
“Say it,” Tim said.
“I’m close,” you gasped.
Conner’s fingers kept moving. “Good. Come on my cock while Tim fucks your throat, sweetheart.”
Your elbows nearly softened beneath you.
Tim’s hand returned to your jaw, thumb brushing the hinge like he was reminding you he was still watching. “Do you want that?”
You nodded as much as his touch allowed, breath catching when Conner pushed deep again.
“Words first,” Tim said.
“Yes,” you managed. “I want it.”
His thumb brushed your cheek, almost tender. “Good.”
Then he pushed back into your mouth.
The rhythm changed. Conner fucked you harder now, his hips snapping into yours with enough force to move you up the bed if Tim’s hands had not held your head steady. Tim’s thrusts into your mouth stayed controlled but rougher, deeper, turning your breathing into something broken and wet. Conner’s fingers worked your clit, and his voice came low and wrecked above you.
“Fuck, look at you. You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted both of us using you like this.”
Tim’s hand tightened in your hair. “Conner.”
“She did.”
Tim’s voice went dark. “Yes. She did.”
The agreement shattered something in you.
Your orgasm hit while Tim was still in your mouth, the sound of it muffled around him as your body clenched hard around Conner. Conner groaned, hips faltering, his hand still working you through it. Tim pulled out just enough to let you gasp, then pressed back in when you tapped once, your own permission eager and trembling beneath his hand.
“Good girl,” Tim said, rough and breathless. “Just like that.”
Conner’s hand slid up your spine, warm and possessive, while he fucked into you from behind. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
He lasted only a few more thrusts. His grip tightened on your hips, his rhythm breaking as he came with a rough, broken sound behind you. He stayed buried inside you through it, body trembling with the effort of holding himself up, one hand sliding up your spine like he needed somewhere to put all of it.
Tim pulled out of your mouth slowly.
You gasped for air, dazed and oversensitive, your arms shaking beneath you. Conner’s hand moved over your back, warm and grounding, while Tim’s thumb brushed the corner of your mouth.
“You okay?” Tim asked, voice rough.
You nodded, then tapped his thigh once.
Tim’s eyes closed for a second. “Can I?”
Your voice was hoarse. “Yes.”
Conner was still behind you, catching his breath, his hand firm at your hip. “Where?”
Tim looked at you.
You reached for him with a shaky hand. “Mouth.”
Conner made a low sound. Tim’s jaw tightened.
He moved carefully, giving you time to take him again, one hand cupping your cheek while the other settled at the back of your head. He was close. You could tell from the tension in his body, the rough edge of his breathing, the way his control had gone thin and frayed.
“Let go,” Conner said softly from behind you.
Tim looked past you at him, then down at you.
You hollowed your cheeks and took him as deep as you could.
Tim came with a low, broken sound, his hand tightening in your hair before he forced it loose. You swallowed what he gave you, eyes watering, body still trembling around Conner’s softening cock. Tim withdrew slowly, thumb brushing your lower lip as he looked at you with something too tender to be only lust.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Conner said, hoarse and awed, “Best lockout in human history.”
You laughed, though it came out weak and breathless.
Tim closed his eyes. “Conner.”
“What? I’m right.”
“You usually are after you stop talking.”
Conner kissed your shoulder. “That felt affectionate.”
“It was.”
You smiled, exhausted and overwhelmed, as Conner carefully pulled out and Tim moved immediately to help. There was no awkward scramble, no sudden distance. Conner disposed of the condom while Tim returned with a damp cloth and a glass of water. He cleaned you gently, his hand steady, his expression focused in that practical way that somehow made care feel more intimate than anything else.
“Too rough?” he asked quietly.
You shook your head, then remembered. “No. It was good.”
His eyes searched yours. “Your throat?”
“A little sore. Good sore.”
Conner came back to the bed and sat beside you, brushing your hair away from your face. “You’ll tell us if that changes?”
“Yes.”
Tim handed you water. “Drink.”
You took the glass and obeyed, because the alternative was admitting how much you liked that tone. Conner noticed anyway and grinned.
“Don’t,” you warned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I’m showing restraint.”
Tim sat on your other side. “He finds it difficult.”
“I am a model of restraint.”
“You came the second she did.”
Conner pointed at him. “That was private.”
“I was there,” you said.
Conner looked at you, wounded. “You too?”
You laughed again, and some of the intensity broke into warmth.
Aftercare with them felt strangely natural. Tim checked in too much, but not in a way that made you feel fragile. Conner joked, but his hands stayed gentle when he helped tug the blanket over you. Tim brought another glass of water. Conner found your shirt, then decided his was closer and softer, and helped you into it with such a pleased expression that you did not bother arguing.
The shirt hung loose on you and smelled like him.
Tim’s eyes moved over you when you settled back against the pillows.
Conner saw. “Yeah?”
Tim’s mouth curved faintly. “Yeah.”
You tucked your face briefly into Conner’s shoulder. “You’re both staring again.”
Conner kissed the top of your head. “We’re enjoying the view.”
Tim’s hand found yours beneath the blanket. “Regrets?”
“No.”
Conner’s answer came immediately. “Absolutely not.”
Tim glanced at him. “I asked her.”
“I answered for myself with enthusiasm.”
You squeezed Tim’s hand. “No regrets.”
His fingers tightened around yours.
The quiet that followed was different from the earlier silences. Softer. Sleepier. Your body felt heavy and used in the best way, your throat still tender, your thighs pleasantly sore. Conner was warm against one side of you, Tim steady against the other, and the room felt less like a place you had entered by accident than a place that had been waiting.
“My laundry is still in the basket,” you said eventually.
Conner hummed against your shoulder. “Tragic.”
“In my apartment,” you added. “Where it belongs.”
“That part is less tragic.”
Tim said, “We can fold it in the morning.”
You turned your head. “That sounds suspiciously like you offering to help.”
“He likes folding laundry,” Conner said.
“I like things put away correctly.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It’s close enough.”
“You came back,” Conner said, smiling against your skin. “With keys this time.”
“I did.”
“Proud of you.”
“Do not make this a thing.”
“It’s already a thing.”
Tim’s mouth curved faintly. “It is a little bit a thing.”
You groaned, but it came out too soft to be convincing.
Tim’s thumb stroked over your hand again. “You can stay tonight.”
The offer was careful enough that it almost hid the vulnerability beneath it.
You looked at him. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” Tim said.
Conner’s answer came at once. “Very much yes.”
You looked between them, at Conner’s open warmth and Tim’s quiet intensity, at the bed you had just shared and the door across the hall that no longer felt like a boundary so much as a distance easily crossed.
“I want that too,” you said.
Conner’s grin softened. Tim leaned in and kissed you, gentle now, his hand cupping your cheek with the same care as the first time.
After a while, the three of you rearranged beneath the covers without much discussion. Conner tugged you toward the middle like the decision had already been made, and Tim settled on your other side, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours beneath the blanket. It should have felt crowded. Instead, it felt deliberate, the two of them warm around you in a way that made leaving seem even more impossible than it already had.
Conner’s arm slid over your waist. Tim’s hand found yours beneath the blanket.
You turned your head toward him. “So.”
Conner groaned softly. “That’s a thinking so.”
Tim’s mouth curved. “It is.”
“You said later,” you said.
They both went quiet.
You did not push immediately. The room was too soft for interrogation, too tender for demands. But you looked at the cut near Tim’s jaw, the bruises you had seen, the first-aid supplies in the bathroom, the way Conner had heard the elevator before anyone else could. You thought about blood on Tim’s sleeve at two in the morning and the hallway light fixed outside your door the next day.
“I’m not asking for everything tonight,” you said. “But I don’t want to pretend I don’t see things.”
Tim exhaled slowly.
Conner’s arm tightened around your waist. “Yeah.”
Tim looked at you for a long moment. “Our lives are complicated.”
“I guessed.”
“I don’t want you hurt because of us.”
“That sounds noble. It also sounds like a decision you’re making for me.”
Conner made a quiet sound against your shoulder. “Told you she was dangerous.”
Tim glanced at him.
Conner lifted one hand. “I’m on her side.”
“You’re always on the side causing me problems.”
“Exactly.”
You smiled, but you did not let Tim off the hook. “I’m not asking to know everything before breakfast. I’m asking you not to lie to me if this is going to be something.”
Tim’s expression softened at the edges. “This is something.”
Your chest tightened.
Conner kissed your shoulder. “Definitely something.”
“Then don’t lie to me.”
Tim nodded once. “Okay.”
Conner’s voice was quieter. “Okay.”
The simplicity of it felt like a door opening.
You let out a breath you had not realized you were holding. “Good.”
Conner’s grin returned slowly. “Bossy.”
“You like it.”
Tim’s thumb stroked over your hand. “We do.”
That was enough to make you hide your face briefly against the pillow. Conner laughed, delighted, and Tim kissed the back of your hand like he was not the reason you needed to hide in the first place.
The building was quiet around you. Across the hall, your apartment door was locked, and your laundry was still sitting unfolded in the basket you had abandoned in your bedroom. Your keys and phone were here, resting on Tim and Conner’s nightstand, proof that you had left yourself a way back and chosen not to take it yet.
In the morning, there would be things to decide. There would be coffee for them and tea for you because Tim remembered. There would be teasing from Conner, careful questions from Tim, and a conversation about what this meant. There would be secrets too, maybe dangerous ones, and the strange truth that the two men across the hall were not ordinary in ways you had only begun to understand.
But tonight, Conner was warm against your back, Tim’s hand was in yours, and nobody seemed in any hurry for you to leave.
You fell asleep between them, with your keys safely within reach and no door left closed between you.
🐦 🔑 ☀️
credit to @uzmacchiato for the cherry divider and wolfereticinkart for the TimKon fanart ❤️💛
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Synopsis: Kon is not pleased with either of you. You both can't take care of yourselves, so he has to take care of you.
W.C: 2.5k
Tags: Smut ❀, dubcon (drunk reader), poly relationship, Dom!Kon (maybe ooc?), Sub!Tim, Sub!Fem!Reader, p in v, unprotected sex, spanking (Reader), anal (Tim), oral (m & f receiving), cunnilingus, handjob
Kon wasn't happy, not in the slightest. He'd had a long day and all he wanted was to come home to his partners and cuddle up with some snacks and a movie. But that's not what he got. Instead, he found his boyfriend glued to his computer screen—still working at midnight—and you were nowhere in sight. Based on the mess that was your vanity, your favourite pair of heels being absent from the shared closet, and one of his leather jackets missing you had gone out. Even though he had warned you not to. There had been a series of horrifying crimes against women within your age range occurring during the nights around Gotham. All Kon wanted was for Tim not to look like he was about to pass out and for you to listen for once.
But you can't always have what you want. You only get what you want sometimes—and Kon was set on getting his new want. He might not have gotten the relaxing cuddled-up night he originally wanted, but he was certainly going to show you and Tim a piece of his mind.
"Kon–relax—" Tim groaned as he rubbed his eyes.
"Don't tell me to relax, Tim!" He pulled Tim's hands away from his eyes, his dark under circles on full display. "How am I supposed to relax when my partners are incapable of taking care of themselves?"
"I'm not incapable of taking care of myself!" Tim shot up from his desk chair.
Kon only responded with a pointed look as he swayed from exhaustion. Tim's hands shook slightly—the caffeine or the sleep deprivation, he had no idea which. Before more raised words could be shot at one another the front door clicked open. Kon stormed out of Tim's home office.
"Where the hell have you been?" He planted his hands on his hips.
Kon was still dressed in his suit not having time to change before he started panicking about his lovers.
"Huh?" Your smile was lopsided.
He watched unamused as you leaned against the wall. Wobbling as you took off your heels. He had to admit—you looked good. You looked really good. And that just pissed him off more.
"Where were you?" He took a few steps forward, his chest a few inches from yours. "I told you that it wasn't safe to go out!"
"Relax, I just went to Jessica's for a bit." Tim had shown security footage of you leaving at 7 pm—the drive to Jessica's was only 20 minutes—it was now something past 12 at night. "I got an Uber, no drunk driving from me, no bad mistakes were made Konny."
He couldn't tell if you were trying to say "honey" or making a new nickname in your drunken state.
"How much did you drink? Who else was there?" His large hands gripped your biceps to hold you upright.
He didn't want to be controlling or possessive—that was Tim's thing. But he did want to be aware of the dangerous situations his lovers were putting themselves into.
"Ehm—I don't know, I wasn't counting—but I think maybe," You held up your hands and started counting with your fingers.
When you counted past five Kon decided he'd had enough. He grabbed your hips and threw you over his shoulders. One of your hands pressed into his shoulder, holding yourself up so you weren't upside down.
"Kon—what the hell?!"
Tim stepped out of his office. "Kon what are you—" He didn't get to finish his question before Kon had picked him up too.
He was a man on a mission. Get his two partners to stop doing stupid, reckless shit and make sure they remember not to do it again.
"Kon put us down!" Tim argued.
He complied and tossed both of you onto your shared bed.
Tim sat up, "I've got work to finish." Kon shoved him back down.
"Not anymore. Both of you—" He panned his eyes from Tim to you, who was staring at him like he was some kind of marble statue. "Are both going to do as I say, and learn a lesson."
"Kon, I seriously need to finish—" Kon shut Tim up with an aggressive kiss.
He pulled away when he heard you giggling to yourself.
"Is she drunk?" Tim muttered as he stared.
Kon didn't miss how his eyes raked over your cleavage. Kon himself was eyeing your legs. His hands grabbed your calves and pulled you closer. You lay flat on your back as he attacked your neck with open-mouth kisses. Usually, you'd give out about leaving marks but you were too caught up giggling. Tim's hand intertwined with yours and the other moved to grope your chest.
"Both of you have been stressing me out, so you're going to do as I say," He removed himself from the crook of your neck. "And then I'll finally be able to relax like you want me to."
"Tim, take those off and sit up by the headboard." He gestured to his sweatpants. "You," He pointed at you. "C'mere."
You sat up at the edge of the bed with a dopey smile. Kon stripped his jacket off your form and you shivered from the cold. He took his own jacket off and removed his suit. He stood in his boxers, Tim was leaning against the headboard in his and you were still in your little dress. Kon pulled Tim's closed thighs apart. He then grabbed your body and flipped you over. You now lay on your stomach, head between Tim's open thighs and Kon stood between yours.
"I told you not to go out, because it was dangerous right?" Kon repeated as he pushed your dress up, exposing your ass.
"Yeah..."
"And you still went out and drank?"
"Yeah—" You gasped when his hand collided with your cheek.
His hand stayed on your ass, massaging where the handprint was forming. He started to grind against you.
"That's not good baby, could've got hurt." He pulled his hard cock out of his boxers. "What would we have done then?"
"You would've—ah!" You moaned mid-sentence as he shoved the tip into you.
"Go on."
"Y-you would've, uhm—" You tried to sink further onto his cock but he pressed your hips down preventing you from moving. "Ugh—would've had to take care of me?"
You weren't sure of what you were saying. Blame it on the alcohol or being too horny for your boyfriends.
He thrusted fully into you, causing you to let out a whine.
"Still have to take care of you, baby, look at you—" His hands slid along your thighs and ass. "Drunk, and already dumb on my cock."
He leaned down, pressing his chest to your back and whispered something Tim couldn't hear into your ear. "But Tim's worse. He stays safe from others but not himself. You've seen how attached he gets to his work and what it does to him, haven't you?"
You nodded your head. "So while I take care of you I need you to take care of him." He motioned with his eyes to Tim's growing bulge. "You can do that can't you?" You nodded again, desperate to please.
"Good," He pulled out and slammed back into you.
Your hands reached up and tugged Tim's aching cock out of his boxers. You peppered a few kisses along him before slipping it into your mouth. Tim moaned at the sight of your lipgloss smearing along him. One of his hands cradled your jaw the other was intertwined with your hand.
"Oh fuck—babe!" Tim tipped his head back and closed his eyes (probably for the first time in 48 hours).
He peered them open to watch Kon disappear inside you. His large hands held onto your waist as he rutted into you. Your moans and gasps sent vibrations through Tim. Your nails clawed at Tim's hips, leaving red lines and crescent imprints. He groaned at the sight of your ass rippling when Kon's hips snapped against them.
Kon's hand slid up your back and neck to grab a fistful of hair. He leaned down and began to kiss and suck along the nape of your neck. The slight change in angle had Kon hitting your sweet spot. You pulled off Tim's cock and he whined from the loss of warmth.
"Uh—Kon it's to much!" You cried.
Kon shoved you back onto Tim's pulsing cock. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat.
"It's not too much—it's exactly what you need." He grunted and picked up his pace. "If I don't take care of you both who else will?"
You let out muffled moans. The room filled with Tim's groans and Kon's grunts. His skin loudly slapped against yours. Tim thinks you muttered "Oh fuck!", he couldn't hear you properly while you were deep throating his cock. He was mesmerised by the smudged lip gloss and the drool dribbling down your chin. Your back arched, Kon deepened the arch by lifting your hips higher. The tip of his cock was perfectly kissing your cervix.
"Shit—I'm close!" Tim was bucking up into your mouth.
Your eyes rolled back as you came. Tim followed not long after. Kon thrusted a few more times into you before cumming. He pressed as far into you as possible. You felt a sticky sensation drip down your inner thighs. Kon rested his full body weight onto you, doing his best to keep you full of him.
"Holy shit..." Your head lolled from side to side.
Tim pulled your body up and began licking up the drool and cum that clung to your skin. His tongue swiped up your neck—right over the Kon's bloomed hickeys causing a whine to escape you. Kon pulled out of you and sat up. He grabbed your hips and sat you to the side. Kon grasped one of Tim's wrists and brought him close, his other hand resting on his upper neck. He whispered something you couldn't hear.
You zoned out for a few seconds, your earlier decisions involving alcohol catching up to you. You broke out of your trance when Tim's hands wrapped around your wrists and pulled you closer. He lay on his back with Kon in between his legs. Kon wrapped Tim's legs around his waist.
"Come here, pretty." Tim's hands moved to your thighs and brought your body over his face.
You quickly removed your dress and tossed it to the floor. His hands slid up and groped your breasts. His nimble fingers toying with your hardened nipples.
"Sit down, babe, he can take it," Kon said with a sultry yet sweet tone.
You and Tim hadn't done this before. Well, now that you're thinking about it you have you were just both really drunk—and you can't remember it! Tim gave you a look that told you he could take it. So you sat down and placed your hands over his. He closed his eyes and hummed as he dragged his tongue along your folds. You slowly grinded into his face and he started to suck on your clit. He could taste both you and Kon. You were hot and wet and he had his hands on your chest. Tim was in heaven.
Kon suddenly thrust into Tim causing a loud moan to leave his lips and send a shivering vibration up you. The more Kon pounded into Tim, the more he moaned and therefore the more you moaned.
"See, I can take care of you both," Kon slapped one of Tim's trembling thighs. "You just need to comply."
"Can't take care of my babys if they're never listening to me."
You started giggling again. Your figure swaying a little.
"Turn around, baby." He sighed.
"Huh?" You joked, barely looking over your shoulder.
Kon's hand met your rear as he spanked you again. You jolted but Tim held you in place. You were still breathlessly giggling.
"Tim, turn her around." Tim groaned but pushed you off him—just enough for you to shift around.
Once you turned around you plopped back down onto Tim's face. He immediately dived his tongue back in. Kon pressed a hand onto Tim's side and grabbed your neck with the other. He pulled you in and connected your lips. His tongue slipped through your swollen lips. He licked up the traces of Tim and hummed satisfactorily.
"See the problem is," He said in between kisses. "Neither of you listens until it's too late."
He trailed down your neck—the opposite side from earlier. "Am I going to have to repeatedly teach you both lessons?"
"I hope so."
You let out another drunken laugh. Tim was too caught up in eating you out to answer Kon. He lifted his hand from Tim's side to give your ass another quick spank before resuming its position.
"Oh—shit—Tim!" You moaned into Kon's ear.
Your hips started rutting along Tim's face as his legs started spasming around Kon's waist. Kon pulled away from you and firmly held Tim's shaking legs.
"Come on baby," He murmured as he thrusted into Tim.
Tim's hands were shaking and sliding all over your body, groping at whatever they could. You noticed Tim's hard cock flushed red and leaking pre cum. You took him in your hands and started to jerk him off. He groaned into you so you kept going. Your hands sliding up in down as fast as you could—trying but failing to keep up with Kon's inhuman pace.
Tim came and his cum splashed up onto all of you. Mostly on himself, but some got onto Kon's abs and your chest and hands. You reached your climax after him and rode through it. Tim slurped up everything that dripped out of you like his life depended on it. Kon gave a few more thrusts before pulling out and finishing on Tim's abs.
"And this is what's going to happen when you both fail to take care of yourselves." Kon stared pointedly at the two of you.
"You're gonna take us to heaven?" Tim half-joked.
You bent down and started to lick up the fluids across Tim's torso.
"Okay—we really need to get you to bed." Kon lifted you off Tim and into his arms.
"Your going to bed too, stop eyeing that damn laptop!" He shouted back at Tim as he carried you to the bathroom.
"I've just got one thing to finish Kon," He reached over the edge of the bed for his laptop. "It'll only be a minute—"
Kon hoisted Tim up into his arms and carried him to the bathroom. He set Tim down beside you in the abnormally large bath (made for 3) that was filled with hot water and bubbles. You leaned on Tim's shoulder, laughing about something.
"How much did you drink?" Tim asked.
"I made her stop counting after five."
"That's not bad—" Tim cut himself off before he could expose any more of his caffeine problem.
"Tim."
Tim didn't respond.
"How many energy drinks have you had today?"
"Define today—"
"Tim!"
A/N: 🔮 I'm seeing more TimKon content in the future... more DicKory content too... and maybe—just maybe—even RoyDonna content...
Damn I just realized that you basically wrote/write all my favourite dc fan fics
On that note, i come here to beg for a tim drake x male reader , I love tim drake with all my heart and I am a starved soul, I take anything you will give me ngl
Maybe even a tim drake x m!reader x conner ( superboy) but reader is a civilian and both of them think they arent really smart enough to get that they are superheroes bevause reader is a bit more forgetfull, but reader actually does know about them beinh heros. Like reader is forgetful but not dumb, and yes he can tell you that they are superheros but how he found that out? No clue, he forgot lmao
𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝
pairings: tim drake x conner kent x male!reader
summary: your boyfriends find out what you forgot to tell them about
a/n: I'm gonna be so honest with you shark (can I call you that?), I am so nervous about writing both of them bc I like them and I'm so nervous about fucking them up 😭 hope you enjoy it <3
You and Conner were lounging on the sofa in your apartment, trying to decide what movie to watch. Preferably one neither of you saw, which wasn't the easiest task due to you not remembering half of the movies you watch.
Tim walked out of your shared bedroom, typing something out on his phone as he walks up to the couch.
"Alright, work called," Tim explained, leaning in to give both of you quick kisses. "I'll see you two later."
"Will you actually make it to dinner this time, or will Batman keep you away?" You asked, grabbing onto Tim's sleeve before he could walk away.
Both of your boyfriends froze, staring at you with wide eyes. You looked between them confused, not understanding their reaction.
"What…?" Conner asked, breaking the silence.
"Will you be back for dinner or will you be too busy being Red Robin?" You repeated, examining Tim before doing the same to Conner.
"(Name)—" Tim started.
"Wait, you know?" Conner questioned, interrupting Tim.
"Of course I know," you shrugged. "I might forget things sometimes, but I'm not an idiot, Superboy."
"And how… did you find out?" Tim asked, sitting down next to you.
"I... don't remember." You looked down at your lap, embarrassed.
Conner and Tim laugh, both of them wrapping their arms around you.
"Wait, then why didn't you say anything?" Conner wondered, kissing your cheek.
"I thought I told you about this already." You laugh, and your boyfriends shake their heads.
"We love you so much you have no idea," Tim said, squishing your cheeks in his hands.
playlist
pairing: tim drake x reader x conner kent
word count: 8.0k
description: you had to be cursed. that was the only explanation as to why everything that could go wrong on your birthday did. luckily, your boys are there to take care of you the way you need.
tags: smut (18+), goes without saying but all characters are in early twenties, tim and kon are boyfriends and you're also their girlfriend, kon is 'supernova' since jon is now 'superboy', reader is a bit self-pitying and self-deprecating at first but it's okay because i say so, established poly relationship, disgusting amount of pet names used (i'm not sorry), inappropriate use of TTK, oral (f recieving), p in v, anal, fingering, just a dirty time all around because it's my birthday and i deserve it.
a/n: the absolutely stunning fanart in my header is by the talented @bichenart, please go check them out! this is disgustingly self-indulgent bc im a stressed college student and it's my birthday. this is my gift to myself. i love timkon but also i want to be in there too so... bon apetit.
Your birthday was an event you'd been looking forward to for months.
Now, usually, it was no big deal. Maybe a party was thrown, cake was eaten, and you'd go out with a few friends. You'd wear shiny sash that read 'birthday girl' in sparkly glitter letters and nurse your hangover the next morning, not really feeling that much older.
That was until you'd begun dating Tim and Kon.
Kon loved birthdays, especially when it came to the people he cares about. Everything from the cake, to the parties, to the planning, to making the gifts, to even the smallest celebrations. He threw himself into all of it. He loves to spoil the people he's close to. Part of him really enjoys it because he never got the childhood memories or the doting parents or the parties full of sugar-rushed classmates.
Kon loves pouring himself into birthdays. Whether it be his own, Tim's, or yours. He was always baking goods, hand-crafting gifts, or decorating the whole apartment with an ungodly amount of balloons. It was your special day, he'd claim, it had to be awesome.
Tim was different, as he usually was when compared to Kon.
While he didn't have an abundance of proper love given from Jack and Janet Drake, the birthdays in the Wayne household were special events (especially to Dick Grayson). He may not be as outwardly enthusiastic as Kon but he was a meticulous planner. When it came to you or your boyfriend's birthday you could always expect a finely curated bouquet on the counter, a reservation at your favorite place downtown, and a piece of jewelry glinting on a satin cushion.
And Tim would just casually drop these gifts on you with little warning and that infuriating smirk tugging at his lip. As if he was pretending not to know it meant the world to you and Kon both.
So, months in advance to today, your boyfriends had gone out of their way to plan a celebration worthy of you.
It's too bad that things can never go as planned.
It all starts when you wake up late.
Your alarm never went off. Your thirty minutes behind schedule. If you're lucky, you'll make it to your crowded lecture hall with only a couple minutes to spare to scrounge for a seat.
"Fuck." You curse, voice still thick with sleep. Icy hot adrenaline shoots through your veins, heart immediately kicking into gear against your ribs.
As gently yet quickly as you're able, you disentangle yourself from the vigilante and half-kryptonian in your bed. Luckily, last night you'd fallen asleep with your back to Tim's chest instead of stuck between him and Kon. His nose had been pressed into the nape of your neck, arms firmly wrapped about your waist. Kon had slotted himself behind him, muscled leg tossed over his boyfriend's and hand outstretched to brush your hip.
Their patrol had been hard on the both of them. Some new rogue had been tearing up the downtown area of Gotham for no good reason. Tim had come home with new bruises and a couple gashes for you to patch up and Kon needed to leave his sun lamp on so he could heal overnight.
But they had each other, and you to fall back on. Everyone had been okay but you hadn't been able to get to sleep until late. (You didn't mind when it came to making sure they were safe).
In their embrace, you had been comfortable, cozy, and it made something behind your ribs warm and fuzzy. That they trusted you this much with their identities, their care. You would always take care of your boys.
You all take care of each other, really. Whether it's Kon tugging Tim away from his laptop after a few hours too long, you dragging Kon out to soak up some sun when the nights get dark early, or Tim bringing home take out when you and Kon have had a bad day.
The combined scent of Tim's cedar shampoo and Kon's lingering cologne had quickly lulled you to sleep.
Too deep of a sleep, apparently.
Tim whines as he feels you leave his grasp. His eyes aren't even open but his arms are still stretched out over the indent you left in the mattress, the missing piece obvious.
You feel a tendril of air curl about your ankle and tug. It nearly sends you tumbling to the floor.
"Kon-El," You only ever use his full name when you're prickly, "I'm late for class, let go!"
The man in question groans in complaint but his TTK dissipates, leaving you able to scramble to the bathroom.
You do the absolute bare minimum. Deodorant hastily applied, a bra squeezed on, face wash quickly rinsed, and teeth quickly brushed. You throw on a pair of jeans, a faded t-shirt, tug on mismatched socks, and one of Kon's hoodies lying on the floor. You move about the room like a panicked bird in a cage.
The hoodie smelled like both of your boyfriends (Tim had probably worn it before you did, honestly) and that was a comfort. You'd need it today.
You might've been racing against the clock but that didn't stop you from leaning over to press a chaste kiss to Tim's temple and Kon's cheek.
"Love you both." The words are as rushed as you are.
Tim hums his contentment and Kon smiles.
"Happy birthday." He mumbles, obviously still half-asleep.
You pause. In all your panic, you'd forgotten what day it was. You can only look forward to when the day was done and you'd be able to celebrate the day properly with your boys.
Toeing on some shoes, your voice carries through the room one final time.
"I'll see you both tonight!"
-
Things went downhill quickly from there.
Quickly dressing had done you some good as you had just enough time to brew some coffee in a thermos before rushing out the door.
But, in your haste, you hadn't screwed the lid on correctly.
So, of course, it just had to spill all down your front mid-sip as you were speed walking to your class. Burning hot coffee seeped into Kon's hoodie, soaking through to sting your skin.
You curse, nearly dropping the cup in your wake.
And, just your luck, it had been in a crowd of your peers… also rushing to class. Embarrassment cloys in your chest and your face burns with the feeling.
Great. Just great.
You make it to class two minutes before it begins. Almost every seat is taken. You have to scoot passed five other students to find a cramped seat in the back of the hall.
Fine. Fine. This is fine.
Except as soon as your professor starts class, he reveals that he has a surprise quiz. On the topic that he had only just introduced late last week. You were not prepared in the slightest. Everything on the sheet looked like pure gibberish. Eyes straining, you stared at your laptop screen for a good ten minutes trying to wrack your mind for anything. Anything at all.
You score poorly. It brings your grade down by nearly four full percentage points, bringing you below where you want to be.
You leave that class feeling dejected, like the day had already turned against you before the clock struck nine.
Throughout your classes, you learn that apparently every single one is out to get you. As if every professor had got together and brewed up the most evil midterms they could think of. Some are covering material you're not going over until the day before the test is supposed to be given.
You could scream.
Dread is a stone sitting in your gut.
You spend every free moment trying to block out study time in your already busy weekly schedule. Maybe you could ask Tim for some help making a study plan… you make a note to ask later. But just the thought of the sheer amount of studying you need to do made you tired.
When the hours of tedious lectures are over, it's time for a meeting with your advisor. It's then that you find out that a couple credits you took last term actually don't count towards your major anymore… meaning you're going to have to make them up additionally over the summer or online.
Perfect. That's exactly what you needed today.
The walk from the advising office to your place of work is spent with you gritting your teeth and trying to calm down. You were coiled like a spring, tense and agitated. You force yourself to suck in big lungfuls of air.
It would all work out. It would be okay.
You just have to make it through this shift and then you'd be home, able to relax with the only two people you really wanted to be with right now.
A couple buzzes grab your attention from your back pocket. You tug out your phone, glancing down. Two new messages light up your screen.
TimTam: Happy birthday, baby. Got us reservations at that place you like near that park Kon crash landed in last week, see you tonight. :)
Clone Boy: HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY i love you very much and can't wait to see you tonight!!!! <3<3<3<3
And it's funny, really, how easily they're able to get you to smile on the shittiest days. Things feel just a tad lighter. Your heart lifts with the thought of tonight.
The picture is painted vividly in your head.
Dressed in a pretty outfit, maybe something silky with a hem that brushes your thighs, you'd walk down the streets of Gotham arm in arm with your boys. Kon would be wearing his new leather jacket he found thrifting last week and maybe Tim would wear that one dress shirt that makes his biceps look good enough to bite.
The restaurant would be dim, filled with warm chatter, and you'd be ushered to a booth tucked away into the corner where the three of you can laugh and joke to your heart's content.
Only when your stomach is full to bursting with savory food would you leave. You might wander around the city for a bit… but you know yourself (and the boys) too well. You'll all be eager to rush home and tumble into the sheets together by the end of the night. In between rounds, you'd snack on the cupcakes Kon had worked hard on last night.
The thought of what awaits you in only a few hours gets you through the walk to work.
But once the shift starts, you know you're in for a long few hours.
Your coworkers are all panicked, your boss is on a power-tripped rampage, and you have a seemingly insurmountable amount of tasks to finish before the day is done.
Halfway through, your coworker makes a mistake. Which would be fine and dandy, and mistakes are made all the time, except the blame gets put onto you.
And your boss explodes.
He yells at you in front of all your other coworkers, not letting you get a single word in. You almost think you're about to be fired with the way he goes on and on and on.
At the end of his tirade, you find out you still have your job. But now you have to stay late to fix the mistake that wasn't even yours. Meaning you'd miss your dinner reservation.
On your ten, you step outside into the alley. Holding your phone to your ear, you listen to the first few rings as you bite your lip to keep it from wobbling.
"Hey, birthday girl," Tim's voice is clear and gentle through the speaker, "What's up?"
"Hey." You despise how your words wobble already.
Tim catches onto it because of course he does. You can sense his brows furrowing through the screen. He says your name.
"Are you okay-?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm all good." Sucking in a breath, you force yourself to continue. "But something came up at work I can't get out of and now I have to stay late… I'll explain when I get home but um… I won't be able to make it to our reservation. I'm really really sorry, Tim."
"Hey, hey, don't worry about it. It's not you're fault. We can go out another night. Kon and I will have something ready for you when you get home, okay?"
Your eyes burn and you force yourself to swallow around the lump in your throat. Guilt presses on your ribs and makes your breath stutter. Tim's easy acceptance and solution just makes you feel worse. He made that reservation months in advance and now he has to throw it all away.
He must notice your silence.
"… Hey, you're sure you're alright?"
You catch yourself nodding before you remember he can't see you. You clear your throat.
"Yeah, it's just… it's been a long day." You check the time. Break is nearly over. "I'll see you guys when I get home, yeah?"
"Yeah, okay. Kon says not to work too hard. We love you."
"I love you guys too. See you at home."
By the end of your shift, you're at your limit. Your bones felt like they were made of lead and every step you took felt like it took far too much effort. Eyelids heavy and soul drained, you make your weary way back home.
The Gotham night is cold and dark. You're this close to calling Kon and asking him to don the Supernova suit just to fly you home. But you don't. You've already asked enough of both your boyfriends tonight.
And the best part? The cherry on top of this whole day? Not even two minutes into your walk home it starts to pour rain. You don't have a proper rain jacket nor an umbrella. Only Kon's coffee-stained hoodie from this morning that soaks through in five seconds flat.
Wrapping your arms around yourself and resuming your defeated journey home, you come to the conclusion that you must be cursed. That's why this whole day has turned to shit.
Complete and utter shit.
-
Nudging the door open to your apartment had you feeling like you were the prisoner from Plato's allegory and just finally clawed your way to freedom. The door shutting feels like sealing off the world and everything bad that comes with it. Which left only safety.
When you, Tim, and Kon had agreed to move in with one another it had just felt natural. You'd been dating for more than a year and already practically lived with one another anyways. There was an apartment in Gotham and Metropolis, just in case either of their duties required them to be in either place for a more significant amount of time.
Your Gotham apartment was a penthouse at the top of an old factory turned tenant building, courtesy of Tim. It was nice for what it was, plus had top of the line heating and water so you couldn't complain. Spacious and a mostly open floor plan.
The three of you had made it a home.
A pair of red converse and worn doc marten boots sat neatly by the door. Pictures of the Kent's, bat-family, and even some of your own memories littered the walls, alongside the occasional Star Trek or NASA poster. A quilt gifted from the Ma Kent was draped over the back of the couch and any of Tim's gadgets could be found in the oddest nooks and crannies. The orchid you recently re-potted sits, healthy and in full bloom, above the kitchen sink.
The entire place was lit by warm lamps or unique light fixtures. The big lights haven't been used since you moved in. It's the sanctuary you so desperately need.
Kon stands in front of the stove, lit like an angel in the dim kitchen light.
His back is to you, broad shoulders making the cut-off t-shirt he wears stretch almost obscenely tight. It made his arms look like they were sculpted by gods. Dark curls are fluffy and mussed as if he just got up from a nap. His hair is growing a bit long in the back, he definitely needs a haircut but you secretly like the length. He has on a simple pair of jeans and knitted socks he got from Ma Kent. He's humming along to an old rock song playing from his phone and the scent of something warm and savory drifts through the air.
The half-kryptonian boy turns to you when he hears your bag thud to the floor. (You're sure he heard you coming, super-hearing and all, but sometimes he likes to pretend to be surprised). The smile he gives you is bright and absolutely radiant. It's everything you'd been needing.
His eyes are so bright and he's so beautiful and the light glints off of the small gold hoops in his ears. He's perfect. Pure relief crashes through you like a glacier breaking off to plummet into the ocean.
"Hey, babe, happy birthday-!" Kon stops short in the middle of his sentence, brows furrowing as he takes you in. You must look pitiful; hair plastered to your face, shivering, soaked through to the bone.
You hardly register his words because all of a sudden your eyes are burning.
Kon is in front of you in an instant. Warm hands cradle your face and gentle eyes search your expression.
"Hey, hey, hey. What's going on, sweetheart? Are you okay?"
That's what breaks the dam. Your expression practically crumples, lip wobbling. It feels pathetic, childish. It was just a bad day,nothing to shed tears over. The world wasn't ending The sun would rise again tomorrow.
But you were exhausted and so guilty that you were the reason plans had to change and, God, you were disappointed too. Today had just been too much. It stung a little extra that it just so happened to be your birthday too.
Immediately, you're tugged into a firm chest. Bulky arms wrap tight around your waist, ensuring there is not a single inkling of space between you. He smells like your shared laundry detergent and that underlying musk of Kon that always lingers.
You tuck your face into the crook of his neck as the first tears fall. They feel hot and fat as they soak from your skin to your boyfriend's shirt. It's humiliating. But he's rubbing soothing circles into your back and the soft pressure of his TTK is kneading at your tense shoulders. It was a weakness for you and Tim, Kon's sure fire way to get the both of you to unwind.
You curl your hands into the fabric of his shirt, clinging as your chest shakes with a withheld sob.
"Oh, honey..." Kon murmurs, subtly shifting his weight to rock you side to side. He presses a gentle kiss to your hair before letting his head rest there. "Bad day?"
You nod, inept at finding the words for the moment.
"Let me see." Is the only warning you get before he's pulling back.
He doesn't go far. Big hands cradle either side of your face, fully taking you in. Thumbs brush your tears away. (Uselessly, as more follow in their wake. He doesn't seem to mind repeating the motion.)
Your lips part, words tumble out unbidden.
"I spilled coffee on your hoodie. I'm sorry."
The words are watery and the syllables are clunky in your mouth. It sounds dumb even to your ears. God, you were a mess.
Kon's expression is terribly soft. He presses a kiss to your temple.
"That's okay, baby. Hoodies can be washed." He assures sweetly. His hands slip down to your arms, trying to rub some more warmth into them. His TTK does the same to your back, the air feeling almost like tangible hands. "I'm more concerned about you. Jesus, you're soaked. You must be freezing. Why didn't you ask me to come get you? You know I would've."
Before you get the chance to respond, you catch the sound of soft footfalls coming from the bedroom.
"What're you two up to?"
Tim.
You hear him pause as he takes in the scene before him. Kon is still rubbing your arms and his TTK is still sending pleasant shivers down your spine.
Your eyes flick to his.
He's clad in a baggy t-shirt he definitely stole from Dick and a comfortable, well-worn pair of Kon's gym shorts. A small frown twists his pink lips, concern practically radiating off of him.
Tim comes closer. Kon makes room for him beside you, one hand leaving you to find the small of Tim's back.
"Hey," Tim greets you softly. He gently kisses your tears away, refusing to let you shy away or get embarrassed. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to both him and Kon. "Who do we need to go beat up?" He asks simply.
That gets a watery giggle out of you, despite the circumstances. You don't miss the way the sound eases some of the stress out of both your boyfriend's shoulders.
The sigh you let out is heavy. You slump, heavy, against Kon and let Tim lean heavier against you. Right here, the combination of their warmth, support, and the different yet familiar smell of both is a comfort greater than anything else you could ask for.
"Today was just… really shitty." You mumble. As if it wasn't completely obvious.
Kon hums his understanding. Instead of continuing to rub your arm, his hand slips under your soaked clothes to smooth along your bare waist instead. Christ, his touch is so warm. You didn't realize how cold you were. His TTK takes over where his hand used to be.
Tim is rubbing circles into the base of your spine and pressed close. He's steadying in a different way than Kon, more logical to the other's immediate sweetness (though, they're both tooth-achingly sweet).
"Tell us about it." He prompts.
And everything you've been holding in just comes pouring out.
Running late, spilling burning-hot coffee, the stupid pop-quiz, midterm stress, the credits not transferring from last term, the whole ordeal at work, feeling so guilty for having to cancel dinner, staying late to fix a mistake that wasn't even your fault, and then walking home in the pouring rain.
And, honestly, you think they should be rolling their eyes. They go through worse shit on a nightly basis. They came home battered and bruised just last night for Christ's sake. Tim's lip is still split and you know for a fact Kon probably didn't get enough sun today.
But they listen and nod along to your words. They let you get it out all. They take turns brushing your tears away as they fall and let you pause when you sniffle. Occasionally, they'll share a glance and something silent will pass between their eyes before their focus is back on you.
Tim tsks when you finish, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear.
"Our poor girl… and all on your birthday too."
"S'not fair." Kon agrees with a shake of his head. He's begun gently kneading at your bare waist. Which, in turn, makes you press closer to the both of them… searching for heat.
"And just so you know," Tim starts, pressing a kiss your crown. "Neither of us mind rearranging some plans for you, okay? We just want to be with you, end of story. Doesn't matter how."
"Capeesh?"Kon teases, nose nudging against your jaw before he ducks his head.
You give a nod, letting your eyelids slip shut as you feel him start to litter kisses down the side of your neck. Dark curls tickle where they brush over your jaw. His hand has grown covetous. You feel the warmth of his touch slide up your ribs, just short of your breast.
"Words, pretty girl." He chastises, lips brushing over your skin.
"Yeah… okay." You breathe. It was hard to focus on much of anything when Kon had his mouth on you. It makes your stomach flutter in interest, body heating.
Tim hums his approval.
He's not innocent either. His hand has slid up your nape, lightly toying with your hair. He leans close to murmur in your ear.
"Let's go get you out of these soaked clothes, hm? Warm you up a little bit." The innuendo in his voice is clear.
"Please."
And who can blame you if you're a little desperate?
You know your boys will take good care of you… they always do. And the thought of not having to carry everything for even just a few hours, to submit and just feel, sounds like heaven on Earth. Heat is already pooling between your thighs, making them clench.
Tim makes a noise of approval before using the hand at your nape to guide you into a kiss. He tastes like the grapefruit chap stick Kon has been begging him to use. It starts off gentle, the shy press of lips, before using his vantage to deepen it. He licks into your mouth and you, gladly, let him.
Kon is still mouthing at your throat. He licks a stripe up to your jaw.
He huffs once he's felt Tim has had long enough.
Your boyfriend takes the hint, pulling away with a final peck to the corner of your mouth.
"Greedy." Kon chastises. But he cups the back of Tim's head and kisses him hard.
Then Kon's mouth is on yours. He's a bit messier with it, sucking your bottom lip between his own.
You only part when you need to suck in a lungful of air.
"C'mon." Tim urges. The familiar rhythm of arousal pulses between the three of you. Everything was heady, intoxicating, heavy. The air held barely contained excitement, an eagerness that showed itself in twitching hands and blown out pupils.
Kon scoops you into his arms, kissing away your giggles as Tim yanks the both of you down the hall. He was always the most impatient.
The bedroom door is hardly shut before your clothes are being tugged at.
Kon sets you down, pressing close to your front while Tim plasters himself to your back. Two pairs of lips are covetous as they attack any slip of skin they can find. Kon nips at your jaw while Tim brushes your hair out of the way so he can mouth at your throat.
Lithe fingers slip beneath your damp top, warm against your chilled skin.
"Want these off?" Tim's voice is husky against you. It makes your thighs clench together and you nod. They really don't have to ask at this point but the fact that he checks in anyways is endearing.
The boys have to stop kissing you for a few devastating seconds as Tim works your soiled hoodie and t-shirt off.
When the fabric is tossed aside and your nearly bare chest is revealed, Kon's heated expression softens. Your boyfriend winces as he takes in the sight of you. He raises a gentle hand, thumb tracing your clavicle.
Confused, you glance down and realize what has caught his concern. The scalding hot coffee you'd spilled on yourself this morning definitely left it's mark. Your skin is irritated and when Kon's touch edges a little too close, it stings.
Tim's chin notches against your shoulder and though he can't exactly see the damage, you know he's put the pieces together.
Kon's pretty blue eyes flick up to yours before he ducks his head to press gentle kisses around the angry area. Your chest stutters over a breath at the feeling and your hands reach up to thread through his curls.
"We've gotta take care of this, sunshine."
You shake your head. With your boyfriends on either side of you, you really don't want to be anywhere else. Their amorous touches have already been enough to make you needy, the ache between your thighs too insistent to ignore. The thought of either one of them not touching you for a moment is unimaginable.
"No," You breathe. "It's okay, doesn't even hurt. We can take care of it after."
"You're sure?" You can feel Tim's voice rumble against your back as he speaks.
"Yes." You tug at Kon's curls and lean your head back against Tim's shoulder. "Please… I need you both."
That gets them jumping to action once again.
Tim's dexterous hands slip behind you for a moment to unclasp your bra. Kon grins and helps you slide it from your shoulders. As soon as your chest is bare, he descends upon you. He takes one breast in his mouth with a groan, his other hand kneading at your chest.
You gasp, arching into the sudden heat. Unconsciously, you tug at his hair. He simply hums in response. His tongue swirls around your hardened nipple before switching to the other.
"F-fuck, Kon."
Tim shifts behind you. He brushes your hair aside so he can nip at your throat, sucking a mark wherever he can reach. His fingers slip over your sides, spanning your ribs before slipping down to the waistband of your jeans. The button pops open easily.
That seems to get Kon's attention. He takes over what Tim started, beginning to work your pants down and off. Goosebumps bloom across your skin as the uncomfortably damp denim is stripped away. Kon slides to his knees before you, peppering kisses across your hips.
"So fucking pretty." He murmurs against you, hands sliding up to knead at your thighs. You choke on a breath as he starts to mouth at you through your panties. Pleasure blooms low in your stomach and your hips rock subtly against his face.
Tim takes the opportunity to skim his hands up to your chest. His hands were downright sinful, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers till you were whining. You arch back against him and you don't miss the way his hips twitch against your ass.
"Feel better having those gross clothes off, hm?" Tim coos against your ear.
You nod, almost dumbly. Lost in the throes of their attentions, you miss the look they share.
Suddenly, Kon rises from his knelt position and tugs at your hand.
He plops down on the edge of the bed, pulling you to sit in his lap. Your back is to his chest and you can feel where he's hard and wanting for you. You don't hesitate to melt back into him with a sigh… he was warm against your chilled skin.
And then Tim is sliding to his knees before you.
Kon's hands slide around your waist and Tim's hands are suddenly working your underwear off… leaving you bare for the both of them. You shiver, biting at your lip.
Kon's chin notches onto your shoulder, still holding you securely against him. But you also feel two tendrils of TTK curl around your thighs, tugging them open. Tim immediately sidles into the open space.
"Gotta stay nice and open for him, yeah? He's gonna make you feel real good, sweetheart."
That's all the warning you get before Tim's mouth is descending upon you.
The first stroke of his tongue across you is almost stunning. Your chest stutters over a gasp, the pleasure sudden. Tim hums at the taste and only presses closer. He practically buries his face between your thighs, lapping at the juices you leak for him before circling his tongue around your clit. It's a precise pattern that has your thighs shaking in a matter of moments.
"Tim…" You whine, grabbing at his hair and rocking your hips. All the while, Kon holds you open.
Every time your thighs twitch and threaten to close around Tim's head, Kon will tsk and his TTK will stretch you even wider. Jesus.
Kon has begun peppering kisses along your bare shoulder, making his way to the side of your neck. He laps greedily at your skin, letting the taste of you melt across his tongue. No inch of you will be left untouched after tonight. His strong hands slide up to your breasts, groping and lazily thumbing your already perky nipples like an afterthought.
You writhe between the two of them. The ecstasy swirling through your tummy almost too much. The noises coming from your mouth are needy things, pathetic and whiny. But, Christ, it feels good to just surrender yourself to this desire.
"God, you sound so pretty." Kon husks against you. "You feel good?"
You nod, letting your head loll against his shoulder.
Tim hums against you, making your hips jump. Two dexterous fingers are suddenly prodding at your entrance. His lips purse and suck at your clit like it's his one purpose in life. Molten fire feels like it's spreading through your veins. And finally, his fingers slide home into you.
"Ah-" You gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull.
"That's it," Tim mumbles against you, tongue darting out to taste you again between words. "So pretty… and you taste so good."
Kon whines the same way you do at that, needy.
Tim pumps his fingers, occasionally curling against your velvety walls. He crooks his hand in search of your pleasure but also to stretch you open. He and Kon were a lot to take on the best of days.
At the same moment, you feel a brush of air slide down the small of your back. Kon's TTK. It's a small tendril, it can't be more than a finger or so thick. It continues it's descent slowly, almost teasing… until it's pressing into you from the back.
You tense, arching back against your boyfriend.
"Shh, that's it." Kon purrs against you. "You always take it so well. We gotta prep you to take the both of us, yeah?"
"Yeah… f-fuck, want you both so bad… S'all I thought about all day."
"Yeah?" Tim smiles from between your thighs. His mouth is slick with your arousal, fingers still relentlessly pulsing in and out of you. He's found your g-spot with ease and won't let it be. The squelching sound they make is lewd. "Don't worry, baby. We've got you."
Kon's TTK has started to shallowly thrust in and out of you. It's widened to the size of a few fingers now. It's an odd feeling, it always is whenever you take the stretch from behind. But it's not uncomfortable… and slowly, the feeling becomes pleasurable.
You soon catch yourself rocking between them, caught between such different sensations. It makes your brain buzz. You can feel your peak slowly rising, like a wave coming into shore. They coax you there easily.
"Shit… m'cumming." You whine, feeling that delicate coil in your stomach finally release. Head tipping back against Kon's shoulder, you shudder and ride it out. All the while, he never lets your thighs close around Tim. You're stuck oscillating between the both of them.
Tim only pulls away once it's evident you've come down from your high. You whimper as he pulls his fingers from you. He placates you with a kiss to your knee. Then, he's pressing his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean with a groan. The whole time, those stunning blue eyes never leave yours. His pupils are blown wide and he looks as if he's been the one wrecked rather than the other way around.
Your lips part as you watch… and you're suddenly feeling much too empty. You want both of them so badly it almost hurts.
"Fuck, Tim, let me taste." Kon begs from beside you. His TTK is still gently stretching you open and you push back into the feeling.
Tim grins, pushing himself up to stand and leaning close. Kon cups his face with a free hand and brings him into a kiss. You can see the way he practically licks into Tim's mouth, tasting your release on his tongue. He moans at the taste.
There's a thin strand of saliva that connects them for a split moment when they part.
"You taste so good." Kon breathes against you, nipping just behind your ear. "Gotta let me have a turn."
You make a simpering noise.
"Not now, though… Want you both in me now. Please."
Both boys blink at you.
Tim is the first to spring to action, tugging you to stand once again. Then, he's kissing you. You make an eager noise, hands slipping beneath his big t-shirt. You begin to undress him.
Behind you, you can hear Kon stand and shuffle around. The drawer to your nightstand opens and shuts.
By the time Kon is pressing against your back, you've gotten Tim bare. Your boyfriend is all lean, lithe muscle. Honed from years upon years as Batman's robin, his efforts show. It's different from Kon, who doesn't have to do a whole lot to remain big and strong. His cock is flushed and pretty, leaking against his stomach. You can't help but wrap your hand around it and begin to stroke.
Tim curses, tilting his head forwards to rest against your shoulder. He tugs you close by your hips.
"Not gonna last long if you keep doing that." The words are honest and you, with reluctance, let him go.
Kon follows the movement and you feel his bare chest pressed against your back. He must've gotten naked when you'd been preoccupied with Tim. You can feel that he's hard too, smearing pre-cum onto your lower back.
"You ready for us?" Kon asks gently.
Your nod is over-eager. Hunger is clear in your movements, in the half-lidded droop of your lids, in the way your body trembles for them.
"More than ready."
One of Tim's clever hands slides to one of your plush thighs, hitching it over the jut of his hip. You feel Kon's TTK too, holding you upright; steady and secure like an embrace. He grinds against you, tip sliding against where you're slick. It makes you shudder. Arms threading about Tim's neck, you cling close.
Kon presses a soft kiss to your nape. Gentle thumbs rub soothing shapes into your hips.
Then, Tim is pressing in.
"Jesus, fuck-" You whine, head tipping back against Kon's broad shoulder.
His cock splits you open. He moves slowly, always so tender. Every time, it feels like he's carving a space for himself inside you. His hand kneads at your haunch, encouraging you to rock against him, to take him deeper.
By the time his hips are flush against yours, you're left panting. Chest stuttering over each breath, you can feel how the head of him kisses against your cervix.
Tim doesn't move quite yet. He hushes quiet praises across your skin as he begins to litter kisses across your sternum.
It's Kon's turn now.
You hear the snap of the cap from a lube bottle being opened. Your body shivers in the anticipation of what comes next. Kon slicks himself up quickly, tossing the lube aside before crowding in close.
Then, you feel the tip of him prodding at you.
"Deep breaths, baby." He murmurs, nuzzling against your shoulder. "Gonna take it nice and slow."
Kon begins to push in. You tense up with a whine, it makes Tim's hips jump against yours. The intrusion is always a lot to get used to at first.
"Shh," Kon husks, rubbing his broad hands over your sides as he begins to rock in deeper. "Shit, that's it. Just relax for me. You feel so good, so fucking tight. Gonna make you feel so good, yeah?"
Soothing brushes of TTK smooth over your shoulders and back, encouraging you to unwind. And slowly, you do.
And soon enough, both of them are seated deep inside you. Pressed between them like a dried flower, you feel warm… secure. Tim's hands and Kon's TTK keep you upright. Your head is tilted back against Kon's shoulder and your hands idly mess with the hair at Tim's nape.
They let you catch your breath, adjusting to both of them. It was always a lot in the best way. Overwhelming fullness that left your mind empty of anything else. Christ, you could hardly take a full breath. You feel them both in your throat.
Kon is breathing hard against your shoulder, practically shuddering from trying to hold himself back. Tim has more composure but the way he grips you tight belies his desperation.
Finally, you shift between them. You give a testing rock of your hips. When you feel absence of pain, only the ecstasy of the stretch, you nod.
"Move, please."
Kon groans against your skin and doesn't hesitate to pull back before sheathing himself fully again. His hips press almost meanly against your ass. It's wet and obscene.
Tim presses his face to your chest as he grinds his hips into you, hardly even pulling out at all. Together, they set a messy rhythm of absolute ruin.
The moans you let out are almost as lewd as the slapping of skin. You've nowhere to go, nothing to do but just accept it. The combined citrus of Kon's cologne and the smell of Tim's expensive shampoo wash over you. You want to drown in the scent.
You tangle your hands in Tim's hair and yank as he grinds against your cervix, muscles trembling in his hold. The noises emanating from your cunt are slick… you can feel Tim's pre and your own arousal wetting your thighs.
And Tim is making these wet, pathetic noises against your chest. Lips parted and kiss-swollen, his warm breath travels over your skin.
"F-fuck, feel so good around me. Taking us so well… mmm, so good, so pretty." He babbles against you. Drunk from only a couple minutes buried within you.
Kon isn't much better. He keeps nipping at your skin before laving his tongue over the same spot. His hands dig into your waist, guiding you back against the unforgiving metronome of his hips against your ass. He's entranced by the way the fat jiggles with every press forward.
"Jesus, princess, look at you… Taking us so well. Aren't we taking care of you?" He pants, sucking a mark where your shoulder meets your neck.
You jolt between them, pulsing. It's like you're caught in the raging waves of a storm and it's all you can do to ride it out. Your already sensitive body is clenching tight around the both of them. Coalescing with pleasure, you feel your ascent growing ever closer.
You let out a shuddering moan, rocking your hips between the both of them. Chasing pleasure, you encourage them ever deeper. Tim is practically kissing your womb and Kon is trying to meet him from behind. Sweat makes the glide between your skin easier. Tim's firm chest is pressed firmly against your own while Kon's is warm at your back. It feels like nirvana. Heaven is here, between your two lovers.
The sound of your skin meeting is a soft plap, plap, plap as they drive into you with renewed vigor.
"Shit… I'm close." You heave, turning your head to press your face to Kon's throat. It's almost a refuge and you lick at the salty sweat at the hollow of his throat.
"Yeah?" Kon breathes, one hand sliding to thumb at your clit right above where Tim continues to drive into you. You mewl, body jumping and twitching between them. It makes Tim moan too, forehead pressed against your delicate collarbone.
The unrelenting pulse of their hips and Kon's touch finally drive you over the edge. You scrabble at Tim's back, raking your nails over his skin as you writhe between them. But between Tim's arms and Kon's powers, there's nowhere to go.
Your body clenches tight around the both of them. Tim's dick is drenched in your release and you can feel the slickness of it dripping down your skin. The feeling crashes over you like the tide and you ride out your ecstasy with simpering whines and fluttering lashes.
Tim curses against you, only able to grind his hips deep into you a few more times before he's spilling inside. Something possessive and hungry is pleased at that, that you have that evidence of his pleasure buried within you now. It's warm and slick and pleasing in your belly.
Kon is still pumping his hips into you, whining and babbling meaningless words against you. He's close too, you can tell. One of his hands grabs Tim's face, pulling into a kiss over your shoulder and then he's coming too. His free hand on your hip makes sure he buries as far as he can go as he rides it out.
The three of you catch your breaths, Tim panting against Kon's mouth and you doing the same against his shoulder. A heady contentment hangs thick in the air, alongside the smell of sex. Your body is a perfect mixture of relaxed and sore. You're sure you won't be able to walk straight.
You come back to yourself at the feel of twin pairs of lips ghosting over your skin.
"Still with us?" Tim asks.
Your grin is radiant, satisfied like a full cat. You reach up to brush his messy fringe from his forehead.
"Mhm." Your hum makes Kon laugh. He's the first to pull out with a groan. You can feel the warmth of his release leaking from you. Oddly enough, you feel nothing but satisfaction at the evidence of his pleasure. You did that to him, to both of them. Kon trails his fingers through it before easing it back into you, making you gasp.
"Jesus…"
"Sorry." But his smile pressed into your skin is anything but regretful.
-
They do get you cleaned up… eventually.
You feel like a newly born fawn on your shaky legs as they both guide you to the bathroom (and you swat at Kon's arm as he laughs).
Tim runs you a warm bath and Kon dries you off after you soak. You let him spread a thin layer of aloe vera ointment over the small burns on your chest. The cool gel is a relief against the sting. A kiss is pressed to Kon's cheek for his effort.
Tim makes you drink almost an entire water bottle.
And as much as you just want to lay down with your boys and go to sleep, satiated and warm, they refuse to let you go to bed without properly celebrating your birthday.
You all end up at the kitchen counter, dressed in whatever clothes you could find. The light is dim and the city sparkles outside, the bustle of Gotham's night life carrying on. Rain taps at the large windows, creating a gentle background melody.
You sit comfortably on one of the stools, comfortable in one of Tim's hoodies and a pair of Kon's boxers. You smell like Tim's expensive body wash and Kon's special fabric softener. Kon as it at your side, arm slung around your shoulders as he goes into explicit detail about the type of frosting he'd whipped up just for you. Not too sweet or cloying, but something perfect to melt across your tongue. You deserve nothing less, he claims. His curls are mussed and he's beautiful.
A lighter flicks to life as Tim lights a singular candle on a cupcake, sliding it across to you. His cheeks still contain a flush from earlier. Your heart brims with affection for the both of them. It's thick and settles just behind your ribs.
No matter what, they'll be here for you. You make the vow to yourself to always do the same. To bandage Tim's wounds when a patrol goes bad, to sunbathe with Kon, to let Kon cry when he wakes up trembling, or to make Tim a sleepy time tea when insomnia won't leave him be. You love them.
They don't sing you happy birthday (thank God, Kon has a tendency to go a bit overboard with the singing) but Tim's fingers thread through yours as you blow out the candle. You make your wish to yourself in your head and Kon presses a dramatic kiss to your cheek.
