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Somebody's Fetish

by Weirdness Magnet and Te

[Story Headers]

Somebody's Fetish
by Weirdness Magnet and Te
August 13, 2004

Disclaimers: We don't even have the action figures. Yet.

Spoilers: Absolutely none.

Summary: It's entirely possible that Tim has put an abnormally intense amount of thought into Kon's wardrobe choices.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Authors' Note: We were talking about the place of personal kink in fan-fiction. Neither of us are particularly surprised this story happened...

Acknowledgments: To Jack and LC for
audiencing and encouragement.


Tim knows that Kon likes leather. There is, after all, ample evidence to support the notion.

Kon wore that jacket long after it was unfashionable, and much longer after it stopped fitting. At first, Tim had thought Kon's attachment to it was sentimental, and it was -- to a point. But Tim had seen Kon's reaction to the sweeping black trench coats in "The Matrix," and Tim is reasonably sure that look had almost nothing to do with Carrie-Ann Moss.

He's mildly surprised that Kon didn't include a new jacket when he redesigned his costume. Despite the distinctive logo across his chest, the t-shirt and jeans are simple and unassuming. Different from the leather-and-spandex of his youth, and not just in terms of design.

Tim misses the jacket sometimes. The fact that Kon's second uniform had lacked the jacket, as well -- though not the straps -- should probably be indicative of... something. It's difficult to put his finger on.

There are other things to focus on, though too much of his attention these days is drawn to the wide leather bracelet that has taken up residence on Kon's right wrist. It's a black leather band a couple of inches wide, made adjustable by a row of bright, metal snaps. It's an interesting choice for an addition to Kon's uniform, if that's what it is.

And... it isn't as simple as it would appear from a distance. Whoever had designed the thing had put a great deal of time into planning and imprinting a surprisingly complex knotwork design.

It looks... touchable. Not in any particularly comforting way -- there's nothing soft about the look of it. Still. Much of Tim's life has been written around the concept that nothing could ever be entirely discerned through just looking.

And he could just ask for a chance to examine it more closely, but he can't quite think of a reason for the request that wouldn't seem weird. He'll have to think about it.

Tim winces at the twinge in his shoulder when he points the remote at the TV. It never hurts to be reminded of just how unforgiving the d-cels can be of imperfect form. Except for how it actually hurts rather a lot. He smiles ruefully to himself and debates getting an ice pack, rubbing at the muscle while he looks for something to watch.

"You okay?" The couch shifts behind him as Kon settles in.

"Pulled it during patrol."

"Rotator cuff acting up again?"

"Just the trap." His mind flits to the scar marring his left trapezius. The wound wasn't that deep -- didn't sever the muscle completely -- but sometimes he wonders how much mobility he'll have left in that arm when he gets to be Bruce's age.


Kon is pretty much the only person who can rub Tim hard enough to feel through the body armor. Tim still can't feel much -- the armor is well-designed -- but enough of the pressure gets through that Tim's shoulder starts to loosen up.

The bracelet is close enough to smell. Leather, and the sweat beneath.


Tim reaches up and pats Kon's hand. "It's better. Thanks."

"Sure." Kon doesn't pull his hand off right away. The pause is just long enough for Tim to turn slightly, shifting his hand to run the back of one gloved finger against the bracelet's design, feeling its ridges.

"You like it."

Tim blinks and freezes. "What?"

"The bracelet, man. You've been staring at it since I got it."

"I --"

Kon pulls his hand away, and it seems like a very large thing to do, despite the fact that he's just tracing it with his own fingers. And not looking at him. "I just... the Kents took me to this flea market outside of town. Nothing there, dude, I'm serious. I do not need John Denver's Greatest Hits. Anyway... yeah. I saw it in one of the booths."

"It's nice," Tim manages to say. And it is nice, with very obvious attention to craftsmanship in the intricate knotwork pressed into the leather. Kon is sort of holding his arm up and tracing the pattern with his other hand, close enough that Tim can scrutinize the way he's been wanting to.

Considerate of him. Kon's always very... It's almost absent, the way he nearly always allows Tim access. An open invitation.

Always. As though it would be perfectly fine for Tim to do...

Well, to touch the bracelet, too.

His gauntlet is off before he can think about it.

Kon moves his hand aside so Tim can put his own there. He holds Kon's wrist still and traces the pattern with his thumb and really looks at it. Smells it, too, because he's close enough. Leather and dye and Kon's sweat and a hint of something musky. His thumb brushes across one of the unused snap catches.

He likes the way it feels on the pad of his thumb, and he wants to feel it with... He brushes the backs of his knuckles over it, and he's aware that he's being... just a little obsessive.

He doesn't actually need Kon's nervous laugh.

He raises an eyebrow and Kon shrugs. "It's just... um. I didn't think you'd like it that much."

"It suits you." And okay, Tim has no idea where that came from, but it's true nonetheless.

Kon raises an eyebrow this time. "Really?"

"... Yes." Tim concentrates on memorizing the pattern to avoid saying anything... anything else.

Except that Kon is smiling at him, and it's not just the smile Tim had come to think of as something like Kon's default setting years before. It's... well, it's a watchful smile. A questioning smile.

If Tim raises an eyebrow again, Kon will just answer the question. So he doesn't. It's... easier to let his eyes slip half-shut and learn the patterning by touch, holding on to Kon's hand so he can move it the way he needs to.

He tips Kon's arm this way and that, following the pattern and noting the way the band fits snugly against Kon's wrist. Not too tight, yet, but the band is on the widest snap setting. One more workout session with Vic and it probably won't fit anymore. And the bracelet makes Kon's forearm look more solid, somehow. Not just stronger, but more powerful, more there.

Tim's thumb slips off the edge of the bracelet, onto the thin skin of Kon's wrist. The band covers Kon's pulse-point, but the skin is warm in a way Tim wouldn't be able to feel if he still had the gauntlet on.

He forgets how very much like sunshine Kon's skin feels. It makes the rest of Tim's body feel cold in an entirely irrational way. Feel like shivering. Like --

"This isn't some kind of vampire thing is it? Like... with my veins. Uh."

He thinks about leaning in, about biting Kon's wrist. One canine scraping at Kon's atom-thin and invulnerable aura, the other digging in to the leather.

The image isn't amusing at all.

"No," he says, and swallows against the sound of his own voice.

Kon shudders once, almost imperceptibly. It's enough, or perhaps just the right thing, to make Tim lean in and inhale, let the scent of leather and Kon and musk fill his head. He closes his eyes briefly behind the lenses of his mask.

Sex. The leather smells faintly of sex.

And since it smells of Kon...

The intimacy is abruptly, belatedly shocking, and he pauses with his face still so close to Kon's wrist. If he said something -- anything -- his lips would brush against the leather.

Against Kon's skin.

He exhales harshly before he can swallow it back and Kon tenses hard. "Tim -- I..."

It's no use calling what he's doing anything but barely-controlled panting. It's no use pretending to himself that he isn't hard. He squeezes his eyes shut behind the mask for a beat, another, and then forces himself to look up.

Whatever's on his face makes Kon flush, deep and sudden. "You -- you could do it. I. Whatever you --" And Kon's face crumples like he's hurting, badly.

Tim leans in, and now he's holding Kon's hand almost pressed to his own chest. "Kon --"

"Want. Fuck, Tim, just --"

And Tim is panting and he'd like to think he's got some level of control here, because he didn't actually have a plan for this, aside from "touch Kon's leather." Which he's doing, gripping Kon's wrist and rubbing the textured leather with his thumb. He hadn't realized he was doing it. Perhaps it would've been better to say he didn't have a conscious plan.

Kon's hand flexes in his grasp, and he rubs Tim's chest armor. Lightly. Tim can't bite back the little gasp.

And Kon makes a noise and mutters, "Fuck," grabbing Tim's hair with his free hand and pulling until he moves up, moves in. He's on Kon's lap.

The motion of the hand on Tim's chest is limited by the grip Tim still has around Kon's wrist, but the other... Kon is petting him. Almost kneading his scalp, and they're close, they're too close, and Tim thinks Kon could burn him even through the armor, and Tims wants to be naked.

He wants --

Kon is looking at him and licking his lips and mussing his hair, and it shouldn't make him need to push into it, to push his head back against Kon's palm and his chest forward against Kon's other palm, but it does.

He does.

He needs to.

Kon just pulls him in closer and looks at him with dark eyes. His pupils are dilated. Tim shifts, but Kon holds him in, and there's something about the glint in Kon's eye that tells him Kon is perfectly content to let Tim move like that between his hands, because Kon has him.

That could be what the glint says. It could also mean that Kon's heat vision is about to fry him. His cock doesn't care. It mindlessly aches inside his jock and pulses when Kon nuzzles his cheek.

Kon's mouth is soft. Hot on his cheek -- wet. His tongue. His --

Licking him. Tasting him and still touching him, slow and -- teasing.

"Kon --"

"She had collars, Tim. The chick at the flea market."

Did you buy one? "I --"

"What would you do if I wore one of those?"

Pass out. Fuck you. Drag you down by it and kiss you until you couldn't breathe. Tim closes his eyes and tilts his cheek into the warm breath. "Kon," he says softly.

Kon drags his mouth over his cheek, lingering on his light stubble before pressing his lips against Tim's ear. Slow breath and a little flick of Kon's tongue on his earlobe, and Tim can't swallow the moan, can't stop himself from twitching up in Kon's grasp. Kon chuffs a laugh and gently bites the top of his ear, letting the tip of his tongue trace the edge.

And that sends a jolt straight to his dick.

He squeezes Kon's wrist and it makes Kon pause, breath hot and humid against his ear. Ticklish.

He didn't want Kon to stop. He closes his eyes behind the mask again and tugs on Kon's wrist, slowly and awkwardly. Tim drags Kon's hand down the center of his tunic and feels himself flex at Kon's soft, pleased moan.

Kon licks his ear again, slowly. Wetly. "Kon..."

"I bet she had other things, man." The flick of Kon's tongue makes Tim's hips jerk. Again.

"Like?" Say it.

"Cock rings, maybe. Black leather. Just... just like my bracelet."

"Oh," he says, only it's a moan, because the pattern of Kon's bracelet is digging into his palm, and because Kon is cupping him through his jock.

"Would you like that?"

"Yes," he chokes, and not just because Kon chose that moment to rub him hard through his tights.

Kon growls against his ear. "You -- you want to see that. Black leather strip around my cock. Tight enough that I couldn't --" He squeezes Tim's cock through the armor, "-- I'd come when you wanted me to."

It's not enough. The suit's too well made for this to be enough. But Kon's voice is so...

"Tell me, Tim."

Somewhere between angry and desperate. Tim bites his lip and has to force himself to stop. "You want that. You want me to --" It's not a word, it's only noise and the feel of Kon's teeth on his ear. Not hard enough to break the skin. Just enough to --

Oh, his tongue --

"I bet you could keep me -- fuck -- right on the edge. For hours. Tim..."

Tim clutches Kon's wrist harder. He feels Kon's teeth on his ear, his breath and the press of the heel of Kon's hand against his jock. Tim bites his lip again so he doesn't whine. Or beg.

He's starting to need to come.

And Kon maybe isn't as in-control as he seems, because his hips buck briefly against Tim's thigh right before Kon's hand yanks his hair. "Tell me."

He knows -- he thinks he knows what Kon wants to hear. What would turn him on and piss him off a little.


He also knows the truth. He twists out of the grip on his hair and looks at Kon. He presses Kon's other hand hard against his jock and lets Kon see him gasping --

"Fuck, Tim --"

"I wouldn't. Have... the control. Not for that." Not for you.

He watches the quick swipe of Kon's tongue across his lips. He watches Kon blink and tries not to.

He doesn't want to miss any of this. "I. I'd suck you. For a while." Kon's eyes are so wide. "With the ring, I could do it for... a long time."

Kon tips his chin down and it feels like he's listening with his whole body, even the hand moving so slowly on Tim's crotch.

"Suck you, play with you, but just... just to get you hard enough so you'd let me --"

And Kon groans and squeezes him, forcing a gasp out of him, another.

"Kon --"

"I --" And this nuzzle is rough, awkward until Kon's face is pressed against his throat. "I'd let you --"

"I want to," and it's much too loud and it makes Kon thrust against his thigh, makes him tug at Tim's tights and --

"You'd do it -- so hard --"

"Hard -- hard as you want. Hard as you -- I wouldn't be able to stop -- fuck --" Kon's hand is warm and solid around his cock, and Tim has to make noise. More noise. Kon's slides his other hand down his back, pressing Tim closer, holding tight as he rubs Tim's pre-come down his length.

"Touch me, Tim, God --"

Yes. Kon -- Tim reaches for Kon's jeans, manages to get them open, get his bare hand inside Kon's shorts and oh God. Kon's hot and wet, and Tim presses his fingers against the shaft and rubs the wetness around the edge of the foreskin with his thumb.

Kon gasps and whimpers against his throat, shaking, and, "Please -- please --"

Tim doesn't even have time to scream, just arches back and up so hard his neck creaks, and then he's coming all over Kon's fist, all over his own stomach --

"Fuck --"

Kon is still holding him, Kon won't let him fall over, but he doesn't want to be held. He twists away and drops to his knees, shoving Kon's thighs apart and diving in --

"Tim -- oh Jesus --"

Kon's hands in his hair again, holding him tight and pushing in, and Tim moans and takes it, clawing at the insides of Kon's long, strong thighs and --

He tastes like sex and smells like leather and the only reason Tim isn't whimpering is because Kon's cock chokes off every sound.

Tim drags Kon's jeans down enough that he can grab Kon's bare hips, so smooth and hot. He uses them to pull Kon in and make him fuck his mouth, until Kon tightens his grip in Tim's hair, pulls out and shoves in hard.

Tim closes his eyes and opens his throat, digging his fingers in. He's drooling around Kon's cock, but Kon doesn't seem to care, because he's cursing a blue streak and using Tim's mouth.

"Tim, I -- I want you to fuck me so hard --"

Tim groans around Kon's cock, opens his eyes and watches Kon lose it right before he feels the heat fill his mouth.

He swallows, but doesn't manage to get everything. He pulls off slow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and listening to Kon gasp.

"I want that, too," Tim says, and wonders if there's any way to touch Kon to make him moan like that.

And wonders if -- when he's going to get the chance to investigate the question with the thoroughness it deserves. He grins to himself and licks the come off his knuckles.

Kon tastes sweet, almost wrongly sweet. Or... perhaps not almost, considering his background. He sucks between his own fingers and looks up to find Kon watching him.

No, staring. He looks... shocked.

Tim takes his time licking his fingers clean. He's not putting on a show (much) so much as giving Kon time to say whatever he's thinking.

"You --"

Tim sucks his index finger.

"Uh --"

He licks the webbing between his ring and middle finger.

"Are you --"

Somehow, there's a wet spot nearly at his elbow. Tim lifts his arm and swipes it with his tongue. He's becoming convinced he could give himself an entire tongue-bath before Kon manages to make a sentence.

And then Kon groans, and tugs at his own arm, somehow fervently clumsy, and he's... taking off the bracelet. And sliding down off the couch to kneel in front of him and --


Kon's thumb is hot against the slick place on his arm, rubbing him there before he fastens the bracelet around Tim's wrist. If he had the gauntlet on, the bracelet wouldn't be visible at all.

"Kon..." Tim takes a breath. He's almost sure he had something to say.

Kon wraps his hand around the bracelet and squeezes.

And kisses him, slow and hard and deep.

Complete sentences may be overrated.


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Fandom:  Teen Titans
Title:  Somebody's Fetish
Author:  Weirdness Magnet and Te   [email]   [website]
Details:  Standalone  |  NC-17  |  *slash*  |  17k  |  08/13/04
Characters:  Tim, Kon
Pairings:  Tim/Kon
Summary:  It's entirely possible that Tim has put an abnormally *intense* amount of thought into Kon's wardrobe choices.

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