Come down breathless
July 28, 2004
Disclaimers: Not mine in any way, shape, or form.
Spoilers: Not a single, solitary one. Timeline: some sort of future... thing. ::handwavey::
Summary: Kon has a good dream. Tim's in range.
Ratings Note: NC-17.
Author's Note: A certain aspect of Jamjar's story "Visit" kind of lodged in my mind and proceeded to make demands. Playing with Kon's powers = yay.
Acknowledgments: To LC, Livia, and Jack for audiencing and suggestions.
Tim wakes up out of the black of a dream his subconscious doesn't see fit to share with the rest of him, wakes up to rhythmic, ticklish pressure and confusion.
Brief confusion. This isn't the first time he's been forced to ignore his internal clock, and it won't be the last. Certainly not here. He forces himself to ignore the pressure (over his ribs, pushing up his top) and pay attention.
His room is dark and quiet. His doors and windows are closed. (light touch on his nipples and he thinks 'harder,' and his stomach lurches because there's no one in here and --) The walls are mostly soundproofed, an imperfect compromise between the need for security and the need for the Titans to occasionally get a full night's rest. If there was anything going on, he would probably be able to (feel it, he can feel --) hear it.
More than that, the 'wristwatch' he sleeps in would be beeping with all of the extra alarms Tim has planted around the Tower and grounds over the past several weeks.
His body jerks forward against nothing, from nothing, and stops.
If he was a superstitious person, he'd think something about ghosts. But he isn't, and his bedroom just happens to be within fifty yards of the bedroom of a boy with telekinesis that is, increasingly, not especially limited to the tactile.
His bedroom just happens to be within range.
Tim grins to himself and waits for the pressure to ease again, enough for him to move. His pajamas mostly straighten themselves out when he's upright, and he takes a moment to fix the collar. And yank the bottoms back up over his hip.
Really, the only question at this point is how often he's going to use this incident to -- gently -- torture Kon. Every weekend might be a little much, and really, it's hard to imagine a future in which he won't want to drag this out every few months. It's one of the benefits of having friends, as opposed to simply allies.
One of them.
He's halfway out the door before it hits again -- it. Kon's aura, and the touch is different this time. Testing. Brushing over and over his face like a blind man's hand, except there are no 'fingers.' Or perhaps too many. And it's... interesting. The aura was looking for him, and he looks back over his shoulder to see -- yes.
His sheets are far more rumpled than he'd left them.
Interesting that Kon could do that silently, though Kon was always better at using his powers when he wasn't thinking consciously about it.
If he's even remotely awake now, Tim will wear Dick's old Robin panties. In public.
He turns around and heads for Kon's room.
Correction: he tries to head for Kon's room, because the aura is apparently satisfied that it's found the right person -- the plausible deniability Tim was willing to cede Kon given that Cassie's bedroom is only a few doors down from his own is rapidly eroding -- and has wrapped itself around him again.
Like a hug from smoke, like dry water.
It isn't squeezing him very tightly, but...
The image in Tim's mind is of a massively thick rope coiled around him from his throat to his ankles. If he wasn't being held upright, it would actually be profoundly difficult -- perhaps impossible -- to keep his balance.
The other image in Tim's mind is of the time (one of them) he'd done his rounds of the sleeping Tower and found Kon curled around his pillow, arms wrapped tight and knees pulled up to do the same.
(Are you holding me like that? What are you dreaming?)
He shakes it off -- the thoughts, at least -- and takes a good look around. Nearly all the doors are closed, save for Beast Boy's, whose room has a familiarly empty resonance.
The fact that the bedrooms are actually rather far away from Cyborg's lab and private quarters has meant that they really don't see Gar at night very often, save for those times when Raven is having a difficult night, or for those periodic occasions when Gar shows up to make pointedly appreciative comments about Cassie's or Starfire's chosen sleepwear.
Starfire's door is also open, but it's safe to assume she's just as unconscious as everyone else. She's made a point of being available to them, but if she were awake, there'd be the flickering light of candles, and the smell of incense would be more pervasive than simply lingering. Ghostly.
The pressure increases on his throat -- just a little too much.
If he presses his 'watch' against his thigh, he could probably set off one of the louder alarms. Or he could simply yell.
He waits, instead, and the pressure eases, shifts.
Rhythmic again. If he closed his eyes, he could easily picture Kon's hand on his throat, fingers resting lightly along the tendon while his thumb strokes and strokes.
It isn't that difficult to imagine with his eyes open, and there's a temptation...
There are too many temptations. He really needs to wake Kon up. He forces his head back down and flexes against the hold on him. And gets squeezed harder, all over. There's no longer any question that the only thing keeping him upright is the aura.
He steadies his breathing and flexes harder, tenses harder, holding himself that way. Really, he doesn't have a plan so much as a mostly wordless theory, but...
Suddenly, there's nothing but air around him, and Tim twists and lands, toes and fingers. The air is only air, and everything is still. He pauses to let his breathing steady and -- pressure.
Light, this time, moving ticklish down his spine.
He should move again. He should --
He holds still for it, instead. After a moment, the pressure firms again, hard (sweet) against the base of his spine. Tim breathes, and it becomes diffuse, pressing to either side of his spine and pushing up. Pushing his top up and.
Tim stands, cautiously, and the (hands) pressure keep moving, over and over him, more diffuse, far more than any two hands (even Kon's, which are big, broad) could offer. He shivers and feels his hips be forcibly stilled. And his shoulders.
And shivers again, because the (hands) are back on his throat, stroking, pushing, sliding down. He looks down and stares at his shirt, and the way that it's seemingly pushing itself away from his chest. It's loose -- he spends enough of his life encased in armor that loose clothing has never stopped feeling both luxurious and a little wrong -- but apparently not loose enough.
The top button pings off the wall and bounces down the hall.
The next three scatter all over the floor.
The pressure is diffuse and hallucinatory everywhere but over his sternum, where it's hard (not wet), teasing --
"What do you want?"
It comes out before he can swallow it back, and it comes out too loud. A stage whisper. Tim freezes and listens and -- feels.
Nothing from the others, and the aura (hands, tongue, God --) hasn't stopped. All over him, and it's wrong, it's wrong.
Because there's no scent but the lingering traces of Starfire's incense and the familiar smells of plastic and metal and paint (Tower). Because it isn't wet, and it's not --
If he went back to bed, and closed his door, he could just... until Kon woke up.
He doesn't have any buttons left and his pajama top is flapping in a breeze that doesn't, actually, exist for anything in the universe but his own body right now. And the touches on his waistband are something between a fumble and fingerless, formless tease.
It's not actually any sort of relief that a part of him sincerely wants it to keep going because he's honestly curious about just how... sensitive the aura is. Just how much it can tell about him.
How much it will be able to tell when --
His knees try to buckle at the first squeeze, and really, that's some kind of instinct right there. Some...
He braces one hand on the wall and tries to --
Pressure on his wrist, circling, holding --
He fights against it and it's instantly gone. His hands are free and he's standing in the middle of the hallway with his pajama top spread open and his pants around his thighs and his dick in a hand that doesn't, actually, exist.
But he can walk.
He can... okay, it's more of a limp, but he's moving, and possibly he should get someone else to train with Kon when he's doing aura work. It wouldn't take much to brief any of the others on what he's doing, and he really didn't have to be --
Pressure on his mouth, his lips, a messy kiss, a dry push, holding his tongue down and he can't hold back a muffled noise --
- such a control freak about this, because clearly -- clearly -- Kon's aura is just a little too familiar with him.
(But that's a lie, that's an excuse, because it's Kon, it's just Kon, even though --)
He doesn't so much walk into Kon's room as stumble, and he isn't sure which of them closed the door.
But it's closed, and he can hit the lights and --
Kon's mostly on his side, eyes closed but moving rapidly, visibly behind the lids. The pillow looks moderately abused and Kon is moaning softly, constantly, and Tim watches (feels) Kon stroke a path over the pillow with the flat of his hand (on him), and Kon's fingers curl (around him again) --
"Oh God, Kon --"
And the moans are louder, deeper, and Kon turns over and Tim knows he was going to do something, but suddenly his arms are above his head, wrists crossed and held, and his mouth is full and his dick --
He can't stop working his hips and --
"Tim," and Kon's voice is sleepy and rough and low and --
- noise. He can't stop making noise, and his hips are snapping, moving. More, he wants more, and he sucks hard on nothing and Kon isn't wearing anything but shorts, and he can see -- he can --
And Kon's working his hips, pumping them, and Tim's pressed to the wall. His feet aren't even touching the floor and Kon is all over him, in him, pushing --
He hears himself groaning around nothing, biting and sucking on nothing, but it isn't, because Kon's windows are closed, too, and the room is close and hot and Tim can smell him.
Sweat and formless heat, all around him --
"Want you, I want --"
And it isn't enough warning. There's nothing in his mouth at all and "Kon --" comes out too loud, too much and --
Tim bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut and slams his head back against the wall. Once, and --
Well, he was going to try for two, but the aura has him.
And then it absolutely doesn't, and it's only training that lets him land with anything resembling grace.
Tim looks up and Kon's flipped over again, sitting up with the pillow... in his lap. Tim raises an eyebrow and tries very, very hard not to think about what he'd be feeling if Kon went back to sleep.
Kon doesn't look like he'll be going back to sleep before Christmas. Kon's looking at him, and Tim winces, blushes, and yanks his pants back up. Carefully.
He can't do anything about the shirt. Or about the fact that the distinct lack of an armored jock under his sleep pants is making things... obvious.
They're probably going to have to talk.
Right. "You were dreaming."
"About... oh man." Kon has one hand firmly holding the pillow over his own crotch while the other covers his face. He's peeking through his fingers like Tim is an especially good horror movie.
Tim crosses his arms over his chest and smirks. "Somehow, I can guess."
"On the plus side, your distance-work with the aura is showing marked improvement."
Kon flops back down and makes a small, indecipherable noise. And presses the pillow against his crotch a little harder.
And arches up just a little and Tim presses his tongue against the backs of his teeth and watches Kon tense and freeze. He's holding the pillow so hard his knuckles are white.
"Jesus. I -- crap."
Tim takes a deep breath and... God. He's had a lot of practice at talking -- working around an erection that won't quit, and right about now he's grateful for that. "I was going to just come wake you up."
"Can I just start apologizing now? Because it's going to take about six kinds of forever before I'm done apologizing and --"
"But your aura followed me."
"I'm so sorry and -- fuck. Fuck. I dreamed you were -- and that I had to catch you --"
"Mm. You're good at that." And I wasn't trying very hard to get away.
Kon's fingers tighten on the pillow even more. He could punch right through the fabric at any moment. "Tim. I... I kind of need... um."
Alone-time. Because he's still hard under that pillow. And he's... Tim forces himself to take a breath, a real one as opposed to just tasting the air.
He doesn't want to give Kon time alone right now. "Yes," is what he manages to say, and Kon... grunts. Softly.
His hand flexes on the pillow and Tim's moving, because there's nothing holding him anymore, because the air is weightless and cool and maybe just a little maddening. He stops next to the bed.
Kon slides his hand from over his face and looks at him. Tim opens his mouth and closes it again. And slowly, deliberately presses his own hand to his stomach and slides it down. Kon's eyes follow the movement, just like they should, and out of the corner of his eye, Tim can see Kon's hand flexing on the pillow again.
"You woke me up --"
"I'm sorry, man, I --"
"And then I was... amused." It's the easiest thing in the world to slip his hand under the waistband of his pants. More than that -- it feels necessary. To the point where it seems almost strange that it makes it harder to breathe evenly.
"And then amused really wasn't... wasn't the right word for it --"
"Hard. You're --" Kon gasps and there's movement, and Tim turns and... stares.
Kon's moving the pillow up and down. Back and forth. And his hips are --
"Tim..." And Kon's other hand is light, gentle on his hip.
Right up until Tim curls his fingers around it and squeezes. "The point is... I didn't mind. And I still don't."
"Jesus, fuck, I --" And Kon's hand tightens on his hip and a lot of nothing tightens around the rest of him and Tim's moving. Being moved until he's spread on top of Kon and -- the pillow is in the way.
Tim braces himself on one hand long enough to rip it out from between them and tosses it. Badly, because Kon is cupping his ass and squeezing, and there's a part of his mind that's fully aware that he just broke the lamp Mrs. Kent sent from Smallville for Kon, but it's small and terribly unimportant.
"God, Tim, you feel so good..."
"You don't remember how I felt when it was your aura?"
Kon's hands are hot, soft in the touch and hard in the feeling. Squeezing his ass and sliding up his back and Tim shrugs the shirt off entirely. "When you were touching me. All over..."
Kon groans and settles one hand back on Tim's hip and pulls him down against him in a rough grind. "I -- no. Just... it was a dream --"
Tim licks his teeth and rocks, and Kon's so warm. So hard -- "It wasn't a dream -- for me --"
"You were..." Kon exhales sharply and pulls Tim's pants down further, lifts him until he can get them past Tim's knees, and shoves his own shorts out of the way before pulling him back down. "You liked it --"
"You wanted --"
"You," Tim says and grinds harder, faster, fucking himself against Kon's dick and digging his fingers into the mattress on either side of Kon's head.
"Oh fuck -- Tim --"
And Kon's eyes are wide and focused. Full and impossible to look at, to look away from. Tim tries to say Kon's name and it comes out whimpered, breathless, and Kon squeezes his hips for just a second before stroking him.
Again. Petting him, sliding his hands up Tim's back and around to his chest and up to his mouth and all over, all over --
"Kon -- I --"
Thumb in his mouth, salty, hard. Strong, and Kon bucks when Tim bites, streaking his abdomen with pre-come, and Tim closes his eyes and sucks and thrusts.
He can't keep himself from moaning around Kon's thumb and he can't stop and --
"I did this -- in the dream. Oh God, Tim --"
Seized, held again, and Kon rolls them over and slips his thumb out of Tim's mouth and -- "I just -- I have to --"
And his tongue is wet, slick, stabbing into Tim's mouth and out again. Licking his cheek and the mask and his throat.
Tim wraps his legs around Kon's waist and arches up as much as he can against Kon's weight and that insistent aura. He can't move his arms. It wants him down, held down against Kon's bed. Kon wants him like this and there are hands on his legs, his ankles and ribs, hands in his hair and Tim doesn't know they're real until he can feel their heat, feel Kon tilting his head up for more kisses.
Deeper ones. And Kon just moans into his mouth like he's trying to talk and kiss at the same time, like he needs to. The way Tim needs to move, and can't.
Except for his mouth.
Except for his hips.
Kon pulls back and pants, grunts with every thrust and stares at him wide-eyed. Shocky and hungry. "I feel you -- Tim, I can feel you in my skin --"
And it's like (smoke) being buried, being rolled and squeezed -- "All over --"
Drowning in Kon's groans and his touch --
"God, Kon, all over me --"
"Yes," and Kon buries his hands in Tim's hair and holds his head tilted back and stares. Just...
Watching him. Feeling --
And Tim's moan comes out choked and high and desperate, louder when he feels himself coming all over himself -- "Tim --"
- both of them, and Kon dives in for another kiss and sucks Tim's tongue, his wrists, hands on him, lifting, and Tim has just enough brain power to realize that he's not, technically, on the bed anymore before Kon cries out into his mouth and comes.
Tim feels him shuddering, and there's nothing squeezing his knees, nothing digging into his ass hard enough to leave bruises, and
absolutely nothing holding them approximately three feet over the bed.
And then there's nothing, and they hit hard enough to knock the breath out of his body --
"Fuck, sorry --"
Tim gasps and Kon rolls off and he can smell it even more now, taste it, and Tim groans and Kon strokes his chest --
"Jesus, I'm sorry --"
"It's okay --"
"I used to have -- fucking control --"
Tim's pretty much going to take that as a compliment. He grins to himself and catches Kon's hand, which seems to be trying to start a sort of casual CPR. "It's okay."
"I'm... really okay." The spots in his vision should clear up reasonably quickly.
"Yeah?" Kon presses his thumb against Tim's palm.
"Yeah." Now if he could just remember how to blink, he'd be fine.
"Okay," Kon says, and twists his hand out of Tim's grasp. And pets his chest in a much calmer way. "Um."
"That must make masturbation interesting."
Kon pauses. Tim's pretty sure he can feel him blinking. "Dude. I can't believe you just said that."
Frankly, neither can he. He's going to blame the oxygen deprivation. "Hmm."
"Uh. Mostly it's fine. I mean, sometimes... but usually I'm not around breakable... um."
That makes sense. "Mm."
"So, I..." Kon rests his arm -- gently -- over Tim's ribs. And curls his other arm up around Tim's head.
He's more than a little surrounded, and Kon's breath is a hot, damp tickle on his ear.
"You've probably figured out that I wanted this. You."
For how long? "It seemed like a fair assumption to make."
"Uh huh. My question is... uh. How much of this is you wanting it and how much of it is..."
"Your aura teasing me until I was too hard to say 'no?'"
Kon throws his leg over Tim's thighs and rocks. "Jesus yeah. I mean no. I mean..."
Tim turns his head enough to smirk at Kon. "I had planned on just mocking you about this for the next six or seven years."
"See, and I told Bart that you totally plan things that far ahead, and he --"
"Yeah," and that arm slips under Tim's neck, shifting until his head is supported rather effectively and his hand is lightly cupping Tim's far shoulder. "I..."
"This is better."
And Kon's grin is so real, so close that it's really hard to see anything else. Or think.
Tim can't decide whether he's relieved or not when Kon ducks and rests his head on Tim's shoulder. And, at this point, he isn't so much 'surrounded' as 'pinned.'
Kon curls his foot under the back of Tim's knee.
Kon hums against his chest softly, and his breathing starts to even out extremely quickly, considering.
Tim pets Kon's hair and focuses on just waiting until Kon gets to sleep. He should be able to get back to his own room...
... just as soon as the little coil of nothing around his ankles relaxes. He flexes them experimentally and... yeah.
Maybe he'll just sleep here.
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Fandom: Teen Titans
Title: Come down breathless
Author: Te [email] [website]
Details: Standalone | NC-17 | *slash* | 21k | 07/28/04
Characters: Tim, Kon
Summary: Kon has a good dream. Tim's in range.
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