truth or dare

by spacecapes

Summary:

Kon glances at the bottle one last time, then back up at Steph, and he knows he’s going down even before he opens his mouth and murmurs, “Dare.”

“You got it, clone boy,” she says, the lopsided grin on her face as bright and pretty as it is terrifying. She taps a long and shockingly purple fingernail against her lips contemplatively, but the mischievous little glint in her eyes makes Kon think that she knows exactly what she’s going to dare him to do; that she’s known since before she ever even suggested playing this stupid game.

“I dare you to kiss Tim.”

Notes:

I swear this was supposed to be a quick no-plot-necessary story about Kon showing Tim a good time, but somehow I ended up writing a whole lead-up to it that kind of warrants its own chapter? So here you go.

Anyway, the whole idea and the first half of the dialogue in the flashback scene is based on this camping trip from Young Justice (1998) #7 but this story is set four or so years later, so everyone’s of age! I’m mentioning this because the first part is just a cute little how-they-got-together that can absolutely be read as a stand-alone, but the second part will be explicit :)

Bonus points to anyone who spots the tiny and possibly quite obscure reference to the Lord of the Rings films (yes, the films specifically) that I snuck in here.

Chapter 1

“one, two, three, do you see what i do
truth or dare, yes i double dare you
you, you, me, now i think you got it
one last breath, and just spin the bottle now”

– marianas trench, ‘truth or dare’

The thing is, Kon had all but forgotten about the first time that he kissed Tim— it’s only now, over four years later, when he’s about to do it again, that the memory comes rushing back to him.

Yeah, okay, that’s a total lie.

In truth, Kon’s spent the last four years trying not to recall every little detail about that first kiss of theirs; how their noses had awkwardly bumped into each other’s, how warm Robin’s lips had felt against his, how unexpected and yet undeniably, unbearably right.

He likes to think that he’s been successful. Sort of. Sometimes.

And yes, fine, maybe that is a total lie, too. But what the hell else was he supposed to do with the knowledge that he really wished it hadn’t ended at that first kiss? That he spent four years hoping for a second one, for a third, and for everything else that Tim seemed so disinclined to give him?

Kon lets the memory wash over him; once again reminded that, as per the cosmic law that all of them have long since come to accept, it was all really kinda Bart’s fault anyway.

---

“Superboy, your turn to pick somebody,” Cissie says with a small, secretive smile as she tilts up her chin at him challengingly.

Kon considers for a moment— if he chooses Cissie and she, in turn, chooses truth, he could ask her if he’s been imagining the sideways glances he’s convinced she’s been shooting him whenever she thinks he isn’t looking. Except Cissie’s the kind of girl who will always go for dare over truth; he’s sure of it. It’s one of the things he likes about her, after all.

Luckily, there’s another question that Kon’s been itching to ask, another well-kept secret that’s been nagging at him for months; and that one could be uncovered with a truth as well as a dare.

“Okay, Rob. Truth or dare,” Kon smirks at his least favourite teammate; the only one who’s still wearing his mask, even now, here in the woods, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, when it’s just them and everyone else has, literally and figuratively, taken theirs off.

“Dare,” Robin replies evenly.

Kon’s smirk only widens because he expected as much, and he doesn’t miss a beat before he says, with the calm confidence of someone who just checkmated his opponent, “Take your mask off, mystery boy.”

To his and everyone else’s surprise, and perhaps for the first time since the formation of their team, Robin does as he’s told— only he’s wearing a second mask underneath the one he takes off. Of course he fucking does.

Kon lets out a huff, not bothering to hide his frustration, and rolls his eyes at the other boy, “Oh, you’re a riot, Rob.”

“When we decided to do this camp-out thing, I figured this game might come up. And I figured one of you might be wiseacre enough to make that dare,” Robin starts explaining with an infuriatingly smug smile that he directs at Kon, “So I wore an extra mask underneath.”

“You were potty-trained by three months old, weren’t you,” Cassie raises an eyebrow at him, and it sounds a lot more like a statement than a question. Robin just shrugs, the corners of his mouth still turned up in that little half-smile of his that Kon really wishes he could punch off his face right now, but he doesn’t deny what she said either.

“Whatever,” Kon crosses his arms and grits his teeth in annoyance, trying and failing to pretend that he doesn’t care that their self-proclaimed leader has somehow managed to show him up yet again, “Imp, you’re up.”

Bart’s face lights up at the mention of his name and his eyes start darting around frantically, one finger pressed to his lips as he tries to decide which one of them to pick. Sometimes — not often, but every now and then — Kon thinks that he’d really like to know what’s going on inside of that boy’s head. Then, he reminds himself that even the smallest of glimpses at the inner workings of his friend’s brain would without a doubt give him the worst kind of motion sickness, so, for once, he’s kinda glad that Kryptonian superpowers don’t include telepathy.

“Hmmm…” Bart hums, an indecisive frown creasing his forehead before he nods to himself and points at Kon with an excited grin, “Superboy, truth or dare?”

“Uh, dare. Duh,” Kon winks at Cissie and leans back onto the heels of his hands with a casual shrug, hoping that she’ll recognise a kindred spirit when she sees one.

“I dare you to kiss Robin.”

As soon as the words have left the speedster’s mouth, everyone else goes dead silent. Hearing-crickets-kind-of-silent— except literally, because it’s the middle of August, and they’re sitting in a fucking forest, and there are actual crickets chirping all around them. Robin’s eyes meet Kon’s for the briefest of moments before they both turn to inspect the ground beneath their feet with a lot more scrutiny than it really warrants.

Then, Secret’s giggles break through the silence, and it isn’t long before Cissie and Cassie follow suit.

Bart spins his head around, a little faster than any ordinary human could, lips pursed and looking all kinds of confused. He crosses his arms and frowns at them when he asks, “What? What’d I do wrong? I read up about this game— I thought daring one player to kiss another was a common way to play?”

Kon watches as the girls all exchange looks with each other, but Cassie is the one who eventually takes pity on Bart and explains, gently, almost as if she were talking to a little kid, “Yeah, I s’ppose it is, except… um, they’re both, y’know, boys?”

“So?” Bart asks with the sort of nonchalance that only someone from the future could possess, tilting his head to the side in the same way that he always does when something just doesn’t make sense to him.

Cassie sighs and puts one hand on Bart’s shoulder. She looks like she’s about to open her mouth again to explain to him why, at least in the here and now, boys didn’t just ask boys to kiss other boys, when Kon sees Robin shrug his shoulders out of the corner of his eye, “Forget it, Bart. I take it you’re chickening out then, Superboy?”

Kon isn’t sure if it’s the certainty with which he knows that Robin’s never going to let him live it down if he refuses Bart’s dare, especially after the other boy took his without so much as batting an eye, or just his sudden desire to wipe that I’m-so-much-smarter-than-you smile off his smug little face— but all of a sudden, he’s pulling Robin towards him with his TTK.

“Fine, fuck it,” Kon hears himself hiss over the too loud beating of his own heart and the faint stutter he detects in Robin’s as he wraps one hand around the back of the other boy’s neck, and a pair of unexpectedly soft lips smash into his.

It’s quick, and awkward, and nothing special, really; and neither of them even have the chance to move their lips against each other’s before Robin pulls back and stares at him with a startled expression on his face that Kon would tease him for, if only he weren’t rendered so speechless right now.

It’s also kinda the best kiss Kon’s ever had.

“There,” he says shakily, trying to play it cool even if his cheeks are burning and he feels a little light-headed, “Not a big deal.”

---

Except it totally was— a big deal, that is. Only back then, Kon could write the whole thing off because soon after, he started dating Cassie and Tim started dating Steph, and suddenly, they were just two straight best friends who shared a kiss; only once, and only for a dare.

And if he sometimes wondered what it would be like to kiss Tim again, to really kiss him this time, then nobody needed to know.

Of course, things are different now.

Different, because Tim came out as bi almost two years ago (not that Kon’s been counting) and Kon himself is… well, something. He doesn’t really know what, or maybe he’s just not sure what to call it — if he wants to call it anything — but the one thing he knows he’s not is straight (not that Kon’s told anyone that).

And yet, here he is, sitting in a circle on the cold, tiled floor of the kitchen in Titans Tower around one of tonight’s way too many empty wine bottles.

A wine bottle that is, at this very moment, pointing straight at Kon.

A wine bottle that, to make things so much worse, was spun by none other than Stephanie Brown.

Kon swallows. He looks over to where Cassie is sat cross-legged with Bart’s head in her lap, absent-mindedly running her fingers through the speedster’s messy, auburn hair. Bart’s stretched out on the floor with his arms and legs spread wide, and he’s staring at the ceiling with a dopey grin on his face that, if Kon didn’t know any better, would make him think that his friend is high as a kite right now.

In fact, Bart, as always, is the only sober one among them. Steph and Cassie have had at least two bottles of wine between them, and while it’s taken Kon twice as much to counteract his Kryptonian DNA, he, too, has started to feel the telltale warmth spread through his chest and the slight tingle in his fingers. Even Tim, who rarely ever let himself drink more than one glass of whatever it was that Steph brought with her on her occasional visits to Titans Tower lest he be called back to Gotham at a moment’s notice, was more than a little tipsy.

Kon remembers asking Tim once, why he seemed to only ever allow himself to get drunk like this when Kon’s around. Tim, at the time, was leaning into Kon’s side with his head pillowed on Kon’s shoulder much the same as he is now; and looked up at him with a scrunched up nose and an adorable, albeit condescending, little frown on his face, like he couldn’t believe how much of an idiot Kon was for having to ask.

Then, he let out a quiet laugh as his features softened into that shy smile of his that Kon likes to think is reserved for him and him alone, and mumbled against Kon’s neck, “‘s simple. Y’make me feel safe.”

Right now, Kon thinks, it doesn’t feel simple, what they have, what they are; and the weight of Tim’s head lies heavy on his shoulder.

Kon glances at the bottle one last time, then back up at Steph, and he knows he’s going down even before he opens his mouth and murmurs, “Dare.”

“You got it, clone boy,” she says, the lopsided grin on her face as bright and pretty as it is terrifying. She taps a long and shockingly purple fingernail against her lips contemplatively, but the mischievous little glint in her eyes makes Kon think that she knows exactly what she’s going to dare him to do; that she’s known since before she ever even suggested playing this stupid game.

“I dare you to kiss Tim.”

Kon’s stomach sinks as Steph repeats Bart’s words from four years ago, except that it’s Tim now, and no longer Robin; and where Robin and Superboy were just two idiot boys with chips on their shoulders and a hell of a lot of unresolved issues between them, Tim and Kon are so much more to each other.

“Ugh, Steph, not cool,” Tim grumbles as he lifts his head off Kon’s shoulder to level a withering look at his girlfriend-turned-best-friend.

Kon watches as something passes between the two of them that he knows he’ll never understand; because even now, years after Tim and Steph called it quits once and for all, they still have the kind of connection that allows them to communicate without words, born of a fierce and protective love for each other that no one else gets to be a part of. Kon can never decide whether he’s jealous or glad that Tim’s got someone like Steph in his corner— most days, it’s probably a bit of both.

“Whatever,” Tim rolls his eyes at Steph before he turns towards Kon and one of his hands comes up to cup Kon’s cheek, “C’mon, we both know you’re too stubborn to back down from a dare and I promise this won’t turn you gay— cross my heart.”

Tim winks at Kon and the corners of his mouth twitch up into a self-deprecating smile as he leans in, his blue-grey eyes searching Kon’s for the permission that Kon was always going to give. Kon can hear how Tim’s heart is beating out of his chest, its erratic rhythm betraying the other boy’s calm exterior; the tips of his fingers hot against the smooth skin of Kon’s temple, his jaw, and right before their lips meet, Kon blurts out the secret he’s no longer able to hide, “What if I already am?”

Tim lets out a strangled noise as soon as his brain catches up with Kon’s words and Kon realises that this might well be the last time that he gets to do this, so he’d better make it count. He buries both of his hands in Tim’s long, silky hair and pulls a little, not so hard that it hurts, but hard enough for Tim to open his mouth and let Kon lick into it; and Kon can’t help but wish he were drowning in the helpless, little moans that the other boy makes against his mouth as he kisses him back with equal fervor.

And, okay, this is so not how he intended to break the news about his sexuality to anyone, least of all Tim, but he’ll worry about that later, when he isn’t busy kissing the boy that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for four years.

When Tim finally does pull back to catch his breath, he stares at Kon, flushed and wide-eyed and incredulous; and a little angry, too.

“Well,” Steph exclaims and claps her hands together as if to congratulate herself for a job well done, “Lady and gentleman, I think that’s our cue to leave. ‘Cause it looks like these boys have a lot to talk about.”

She unfolds her legs and grabs onto the kitchen counter to pull herself up from the floor, wobbling a little on her feet as she shuffles over to where Cassie and Bart are sitting, both surprisingly unsurprised at Kon’s admission and the fact that they just witnessed two of their best friends shove their tongues down each other’s throats. Steph extends both of her hands towards them and waits for Cassie to take her left and Bart to take her right before she pulls them both up with a lot more grace than anyone should be able to muster after drinking what must have been close to a litre of wine.

Kon stares after them as they stumble out of the kitchen, hand in hand, and the last thing he hears Steph say is, “My work here is done— also, you both owe me ten bucks, suckers.”

Feelings of admiration and betrayal are whirling inside Kon’s chest as he watches his friends walk away, but he knows that now is not the time to try and untangle any of them— not when Tim’s still kneeling right in front of him, with his hands fisted in the soft fabric of Kon’s shirt and stormy eyes that demand an explanation.

“You asshole,” Tim exhales eventually, pushing back against Kon’s chest before he releases his grip on Kon’s shirt and lets himself fall back against the kitchen counter with a quiet huff, “How long have you known?”

“A while,” Kon admits, biting down onto his lower lip and avoiding Tim’s eyes, because he’d really rather not reveal this bit but he also knows better than to lie to the other boy right now, “Maybe, um, maybe longer than you.”

“And were you ever going to tell me?” Tim draws up his knees to his chest and wraps both of his arms around them. With his ankles crossed and his chin resting on top of his knees, Kon is once again struck by how frail Tim looks sometimes, even if he’s anything but. Tim’s voice, however, is hard and distant, not unlike the one he uses to interrogate criminals; and Kon hates to be the one who made him look and sound like that.

There’s a part of him that wants to yell at Tim that it shouldn’t matter how long he’s known, that he doesn’t owe it to anyone to share that side of himself, not even to Tim; that it should’ve been his choice and his alone if and when to come out, and that it’s really fucking unfair of Tim to make him feel bad for not doing so sooner.

It’s all true, Kon knows it is and so does Tim.

But he also knows how proud he felt when, two years ago, Tim chose to confide in him before anyone else about who he was, who he wanted to be. He still remembers that split second of nervous excitement when he thought, if only for a moment, that maybe this meant that he’d get to kiss Tim again, for real this time, and how it felt to have his fragile hope shattered to pieces when it was Bernard’s name that Tim whispered instead of his; and how, through it all, it was the knowledge that Tim trusted him more than anyone else in the world that he held on to.

There’s no doubt in Kon’s mind that, if their positions were reversed, he would be furious, too.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” Kon starts, then looks down at his lap again, “I guess I just… didn’t know what to say?”

“Didn’t know what to—” Tim’s back on his knees now, throwing his hands up in Kon’s face, eyes blazing with anger, “Oh, I don’t know, how about when I told you I was bi, you could’ve just said, ‘Cool, I think I like dudes, too’ or, y’know, ‘Let’s figure this shit out together’ instead of letting me believe that I was— that I was the only one who—”

Tim’s voice breaks and Kon’s heart breaks right with it. It’s been so long since Tim’s let him catch a glimpse at all the hurt and the confusion that he felt when he realised that he was different, that he wasn’t who everyone thought he was; and it never occurred to Kon that, all along, he had the power to make things a little easier for his best friend.

If only he hadn’t been so scared of things between them changing, or of what it would mean if they didn’t.

“I wanted to, Tim, I swear, I wanted nothing more than to tell you,” Kon doesn’t think twice before he takes both of Tim’s hands in his and holds on tight, “But you were already with Bernard and I wasn’t sure what I am— fuck, I’m still not sure what I am—”

“Wait,” Tim interrupts, head snapping up so that their eyes meet, and the suddenness with which his anger and his hurt from a moment ago are replaced by suspicion is enough to give Kon whiplash, “What’s me being with Bernard got to do with anything?”

Well, shit.

Shit, shit, shit— Kon never meant for that little detail to slip out. His eyes widen at the same time as Tim’s narrow and, with a sinking feeling, Kon realises that not only is there no taking it back now… but there’s also no way in hell that Tim won’t be able to piece things together, wine or no wine, not after all the hints that Kon has inadvertently thrown at him.

Because it’s Tim and figuring things out is what he does; and godfuckingdammit, Kon’s never hated that big brain of his that he loves so much more than he does right now.

He tries to let go of Tim’s hands, to put some distance between them; but the other boy just shakes his head and intertwines their fingers and tugs until their foreheads touch and Kon is almost straddling him, one knee on either side of Tim’s thighs.

Tim is strong, stronger than most in every sense of the word, but he knows just as well as Kon does that he’s nowhere near strong enough to make a Kryptonian do anything against his will; that it’s Kon’s choice to let himself be pulled towards him, into him, not because he can’t but because he doesn’t want to resist the other boy’s magnetism any longer.

“Kon,” Tim’s voice is low and commanding as he leans forward until the tips of their noses touch and their lips are once again mere inches apart, “I dare you to tell me the truth.”

“‘m afraid that’s not how the game works, Wonder Boy,” Kon whispers back, even if he knows he’s fighting a losing battle. He can hear the frantic beating of Tim’s heart, can feel his pulse where their wrists are pressed together, and he wonders if, this once, maybe Tim can feel his, too.

“I don’t care,” Tim shakes his head again and he’s starting to sound a little desperate now, “I don’t care about any of the rules of this stupid game we’re playing— just— please, Kon, tell me. Tell me why it mattered that I was with Bernard? Tell me that I’m not crazy here, and that this means something?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” Kon tries one last time with a hoarse laugh, and some of the tension between them melts away when Tim returns his smile with one of his own.

“Not a chance.”

Kon does his best to swallow his fear and, perhaps more than anything, his pride, but his tongue still feels heavy in his mouth when he admits, “If you hadn’t been with Bernard, I thought that we could’ve— I mean, you’re my best friend and I never want that to change, but I always thought that maybe you and I could be… more than that, too. If you, um, if you wanted to.”

“Do you still?” Tim licks his lips, so close now that Kon can smell the wine on his breath, “Think that, I mean?”

“Yeah,” Kon breathes without hesitation, because amidst all the what-ifs and has-beens and never-will-bes, it’s the one thing he’s never doubted, “Yeah, I do.”

“Then I double dare you to fucking do something about it.”

Chapter 2

Notes:

One serving of feelings with porn with a side of feelings, coming right up. Enjoy! ;)

Tim’s right about one thing— well, no, Tim’s right about a great deal of things (it’s kinda annoying, really) but what he said about Kon being too stubborn to back down from a dare? He’s right on the money with that one.

Stubborn is the one thing Kon always has been and always will be; and this time, he knows that Tim’s expecting it, counting on it, hoping for it.

“Oh, you’re on, Wonder Boy,” Kon grins because he can’t help it, wide and easy and happy, before he grabs Tim’s hips and pulls the other boy onto his lap. He crashes their mouths together for what is the third time in their lives and the second time tonight; and for what he hopes will be the first of hundreds more to come.

From there on out, it’s a bit of a blur— no, really, because Kon lifts Tim up off the ground and, with Tim’s legs wrapped around his waist and Tim’s head tucked into the crook of his neck, their surroundings twist into a colourful blur as he flies them straight to his room. Carefully, more carefully than he thought himself capable of, he lays Tim down on top of the covers of the bed and brushes a stray strand of hair out of his best friend’s face.

Tim snorts and presses the back of his left hand to his forehead, pretending to swoon, “Such a gentleman.”

Kon huffs a laugh and playfully slaps Tim’s arm before he crawls back on top of him, straddling Tim’s narrow hips and leaning over until he all but covers the smaller boy’s body with his own. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of Tim all spread out beneath him, with his cheeks flushed pink and his long, dark hair fanned out on the pillow.

He kisses him again, first his lips, then the corner of his mouth, his jaw, all the way up his ear, and whispers, “Only if you want me to be.”

“I really don’t,” Tim whispers back before he buries his hands in Kon’s hair to drag him down into another messy kiss; and Kon doesn’t know if it’s the words, or the way Tim says them, or maybe how he fucks his tongue into Kon’s mouth like all he wants is for Kon to wreck him, but there’s a dark promise in there somewhere that sends shivers running down his spine.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Tim complains in between kisses, the frown on his face as adorable as it is bossy and that really shouldn’t turn Kon on as much as it does, “I’m wearing too many clothes.”

“I can fix that,” Kon sits back up and winks at Tim before he uses his TTK to take off first Tim’s clothes and then his own, shivering at the first touch of skin on skin as he leans back down and murmurs against Tim’s lips, “Better?”

“Infinitely,” Tim nods and, with that mischievous, little Robin smirk of his, he wraps his long legs around Kon’s waist once more and flips them over effortlessly, “Remind me to never complain about your TTK again.”

Kon throws his head back laughing because that’s never going to happen and they both know it, “Yeah, right— and while we’re talkin’ about promises you can’t keep, I guess you’re gonna give up coffee for me, too?”

Tim rolls his eyes, “How about you shut up and make out with me instead?”

And it’s easy like that; they bicker, and laugh, and Tim’s a bit of a smartass and Kon’s really just an ass; and it all feels so normal, almost like nothing’s changed between them— except for how Kon’s skin burns where it touches Tim’s, and how Tim gasps out Kon’s name every time their hips meet, and how it all just seems too fucking good to be true.

“Fuck, Tim, look at you,” Kon groans, hands curling around Tim’s hips as the other boy arches his back and grinds his ass into Kon’s rapidly filling cock over and over again.

Kon doesn’t think he imagines the flash of heat in Tim’s intense, blue-grey eyes at his words, or how he starts moving a little faster, a little more deliberately; lips parted as short, breathless moans slip past them with every roll of his hips. He can feel Tim’s fingers digging into the impenetrable skin of his chest, into the spaces between his ribs; as though he wants to claw his way in.

Kon almost tells him that he doesn’t need to, that he’s carved out a space for him years ago; but the words feel heavy on his tongue.

He bites his lip instead, and lets his thumbs trace the myriad of old scars and fresh bruises that litter Tim’s body, determined to commit each and every single one to memory; nervous eyes meeting Tim’s when he feels the other boy shiver above him as his fingernail grazes a faded red scar right above his left hip bone.

Tim slows down a little but doesn’t stop moving as he tilts his head, watching Kon watch him. Then, he takes Kon’s hand in his and intertwines their fingers, pressing their joint hands to his chest before he leans forward and murmurs into the hollow of Kon’s neck, quiet and so much more vulnerable than Kon’s ever heard him, “You don't mind them, do you? All the scars?”

“What? No, Tim, no,” Kon rushes to reassure him, a little taken aback, letting go of Tim’s hand only to grab his face and force the other boy to look at him when he adds, “Why would you even— you’re— you’re perfect. You’re perfect, okay?”

He feels his cheeks heat up a little because, okay, that may just be the corniest thing he’s ever said but… that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

“Yeah?” Tim asks with that half-smile of his that’s somewhere between shy and mischievous as he rolls his hips into Kon’s again; and Kon really wishes they weren’t both still wearing their underwear, but the angle and the friction and Tim’s hot breath against his skin are enough to draw a startled moan from him.

“Yeah. Yeah, Tim, I— just like that— oh fuck, if you keep doing that I’m gonna—”

Kon makes a frustrated noise when Tim stops dead in his tracks, lifting his hips up just enough so that they aren’t touching anymore. With a forceful shake of his head and a heated kiss to the corner of Kon’s mouth, he says, “No. Not like this.”

And then, without giving Kon the chance to wrap his head around the implications of what he just said, Tim’s kissing his way down Kon’s chest, licking and sucking on his nipples, dragging his nails over his abs as he bites down onto each of Kon’s hip bones hard enough to leave a mark on anyone else; and Kon thinks that he really wishes that it did.

He swallows around the lump in his throat when Tim loses himself in the soft trail of hair that starts right below his belly button and disappears beneath the waistband of his boxers, murmuring sweet nothings into Kon’s skin before his mouth travels lower still; to where his fingers have slipped past the hem of Kon’s boxers, drawing infuriatingly slow circles on his inner thighs.

“Oh my— Tim—” Kon doesn’t squeal when Tim presses his tongue against the thin, black fabric and licks a slow line up his achingly hard cock because, well, that would be super embarrassing and not at all cool… but it’s a close call. He glances down just in time to catch the corners of Tim’s mouth twitching upwards; and it’s all the proof he needs to know that the other boy knows exactly what he’s doing to him.

“Rob, come on, don’t be a tease,” Kon whines, shoving his fist into his mouth to stop himself from cursing a blue streak as Tim hums against his cock and leaves a trail of soft, wet kisses from the base all the way up to the still clothed tip, where precome has started soaking through the fabric.

He doesn’t know why the old nickname slipped out and to be honest, he’s a little too distracted right now to figure it out, but he doesn’t miss the way Tim’s eyes dart up to meet his, dark and full of heat at the sudden reminder of where all this began; where they began.

Kon throws his head back into the soft pillows when Tim finally takes pity on him and hooks two fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers and pulls them down and off. He doesn’t waste any time in wrapping his pretty lips around the head of Kon’s leaking cock, sucking and moaning and swirling his tongue around it like it’s what he was born to do; and it all feels so good that Kon can’t stop his hips from bucking up, pushing his cock further into the hot, wet heat of Tim’s mouth.

He’s about to apologise when he sees the pleading look in Tim’s eyes as the other boy glances up at him from under his lashes; takes in his flushed cheeks and the muffled, broken moan that he can’t seem to hold back when Kon’s cock twitches in his mouth at the sight. Kon curses, and then it’s almost like his hands move of their own accord, coming up to cup both of Tim’s pink cheeks; and the next thing he knows he’s moving his hips up and down, slowly fucking his cock into Tim’s mouth.

“Is this— is this okay?” Kon asks even if he already knows the answer to his question, running a trembling hand through Tim’s hair as the other boy nods and swallows around him.

Tim’s eyes never leave his and he does his best to move his tongue in time with Kon’s thrusts, whimpering whenever Kon pushes in a little further, begging for more; and all the while he’s looking at Kon like he thinks he hung the fucking moon, and Robin’s never looked at him like that, and neither has Tim, and—

It’s all too much, too soon.

“Shit, I think I’m gonna—” is all Kon manages to get out before his orgasm crashes into him without warning and he’s spilling down Tim’s throat. He dimly registers Tim’s strong hands on his stuttering hips, pushing him back down into the mattress as he swallows every last drop of Kon’s come, moaning all the way through like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Sorry, I—” Kon blurts out as soon as his brain is back online, biting his lip and looking down at Tim apologetically.

“Don’t be,” Tim says after Kon’s cock slips out of his mouth with a lewd pop, a little breathlessly. His voice sounds utterly wrecked, but he smiles at Kon like he just won the goddamn lottery; and Kon’s heart skips a beat because he thinks that, really, maybe he’s the one who did.

He throws one arm across his face and lets out a hoarse laugh, “You know, I kinda wanna hate you for being so good at this, but that was so fucking hot I don’t even have it in me to pretend right now.”

Kon lifts his arm a little and cracks open one eye to peer down at Tim. He watches as the other boy sits up and rolls his neck; his own, hard cock still straining against the dark red fabric of his boxers. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a smug little smile on his face and it looks suspiciously like the one he often wears on a mission— when things go exactly according to whatever plan he made and never bothered to tell any of them about.

It vanishes when his eyes travel down Kon’s body again.

“You’re still hard,” Tim states, frowning a little. He sounds curious more than anything else, like he’s still processing the data in front of him, unsure of what to make of it.

“Oh, um, yeah,” Kon shrugs and offers him an awkward smile because maaaybe that’s something he should have told Tim before they jumped (well, more like flew) into bed together, “It’s a Kryptonian thing? My, uh, refractory period is kinda non-existent. Well. At least for the first three or four times or so. But it’s okay, I don’t expect you to—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because, all of a sudden, Tim’s mouth is back on his, and Tim’s hands are in his hair, and the other boy is writhing against him in all the best ways. Kon decides that it’s best to just roll with it and wraps his arms around Tim’s waist to pull him closer, returning his frantic kisses with a bemused smile.

“Okay, not what I expected,” Kon chuckles when Tim moves on from his lips to the side of his neck, “But I take it that’s not gonna be an issue for you then?”

“Fuck no, that’s so hot, Kon,” Tim replies without thinking, but then he looks up at him sharply and adds, “Don’t let it get to your head, your ego’s big enough as it is.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Kon promises and laughs again, but he can’t deny that he’s relieved— and maybe a little pleased, too.

It’s not like it’s been an issue with any of his previous partners, exactly, but he doesn’t recall any of them being as enthusiastic about it either; and if he’s completely honest with himself, there’s always been a small part of him that wondered whether maybe one of the reasons that Tim never looked at him as anything other than a best friend was because the whole… dating an alien thing put him off.

He’s really, really glad that that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Kon’s still grinning like an idiot when Tim climbs off the bed to peel out of his boxers— his best friend in the whole wide world is kinda into his weird alien sex superpowers and also just gave him a mind-blowing (ha!) orgasm… so he feels pretty damn awesome right now. Which is why, when Tim stands in front of him, fully naked, with a faint blush on his pale chest and neck, it’s really no surprise that all Kon’s sex-stupid brain can think to say is, “Wow. You, uh, you have a really pretty cock.”

Tim, however, doesn’t seem to mind. His lips are twitching again, like he’s trying hard not to smile, but Kon has long since learned that it’s Tim’s eyes that he had to look out for; and the way they crinkle at the corners as he crawls back on top of Kon tells him all he needs to know.

“Thanks,” Tim says simply, and kisses Kon again, slow and deep.

Kon moans when Tim sinks down on top of him and their cocks slide against each other for the first time. He feels the other boy shudder in his arms and holds him closer; and when Tim starts moving against him once more, Kon knows that he could come again just from that. He thinks he might, too, with the way Tim speeds up, grinds his hips into Kon’s with purpose—

And then everything comes to a halt when, instead, Tim gasps into his ear, “Oh god, Kon, please, fuck me—”

Kon grabs hold of Tim’s shoulders and stares at him with wide eyes, “Do you— I mean— really?”

“Yeah,” Tim nods without hesitation, but the blush on his cheeks deepens when he adds, “I—if that’s okay.”

“Fuck yeah it’s okay, shit,” Kon runs a nervous hand through his messy curls, “I just— I just wanna make this good for you, wanna make you feel good.”

“You already are, Kon,” Tim whispers against his lips, “I’ve been thinking about this forever. About you. About us.”

“Me, too,” Kon admits, and he thinks that maybe one day he’ll have the guts to tell Tim exactly how long he’s been thinking about this, and how often. Right now, however, he needs to wrap his head around the fact that Tim wants to go all the way tonight; and he needs to do it fast.

“Have you ever done this before? Um, with a— a guy?” Tim looks up at Kon shyly, and Kon shakes his head.

“You?” he licks his lips nervously, dreading the answer to the question he’s never dared to ask in the three years since Tim and Bernard decided that they were better off as friends. As much as Kon knows that it shouldn’t matter — not now, not when Tim’s right here, lying naked in his arms — he still feels an odd twist in his stomach at the thought of Tim sharing this with anyone else.

But Tim just shakes his head and whispers the one word Kon wanted so desperately to hear, “No.”

Kon feels a sudden surge of possessiveness run through him, his mind and his heart and his body all screaming mine mine mine as he tightens his grip around Tim’s waist and asks, “Not even with Bernard?”

“No,” Tim repeats, “We did other stuff but never, uh, this.”

“Fuck, Tim,” Kon lets out a shaky breath and presses a few relieved kisses to Tim’s lips, because he’s never even let himself hope and yet here Tim is, upending his world for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, “Is it weird that I’m really glad you didn’t?”

Tim shakes his head again, “Not if it isn’t weird that I was always kinda hoping it’d be you.”

Kon can’t be sure if the pounding in his ears is Tim’s heartbeat or his own or maybe both of them, each trying to outrun the other, but when he kisses his best friend again he pours everything that he can’t put into words into the kiss instead, knowing that Tim will understand; he always does.

“How do you wanna do this?” he asks softly, stroking Tim’s cheek with his knuckles.

Contrary to popular belief, Kon isn’t incapable of admitting when he’s out of his depth, at least not anymore, and this is one of those times. He doesn’t like not being in control, never has and never will; but what, in Kon’s case at least, amounts to a lifetime of challenging each other’s ability to lead their team, has somehow, somewhere along the way, turned into the kind of blind trust that lets him hand Tim the reins without a second thought.

“It’s easiest if I’m on my back, with a pillow to lift up my hips,” Tim informs him with the air of someone who’s conducted extensive research on the matter— which, now that Kon thinks about it, he probably has.

Kon sits up on his knees as soon as Tim climbs off him to reach over and rummage through the top drawer of his bedside table, a triumphant expression on his face when he digs out a small bottle of lube. He hands it to Kon wordlessly, and stretches out on the bed next to him; eyes half-lidded and lips bright red from how hard he’s been biting down on them, all traces of his earlier shyness gone when he pushes a pillow under his hips and spreads his legs apart invitingly.

“I want you so much,” Kon murmurs as he fits himself into the space between Tim’s legs, running one hand up and down Tim’s thigh while he uncaps the bottle of lube with the other.

Tim smiles up at him and takes Kon’s hand in his, squeezing hard, “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Kon coats two of his fingers with lube, rubbing them together a little in the hopes that it’ll help warm up the cold, clear substance between them. He’s not sure he succeeds but Tim soon raises an impatient eyebrow at him and spreads his legs even wider, an unmistakable plea for Kon to get a move on. He nods, more to himself than to Tim, and does his best to ignore the fluttering feeling in his stomach as he presses one finger against Tim’s twitching hole, “Um, just… try to relax? I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Tim replies, and Kon feels him melt into his touch, feels the muscles in his leg go limp where Kon’s hand still rests on top of his thigh. It’s intoxicating, the complete and utter trust that the other boy seems to have in him; because no one’s ever trusted Kon like this. He’s not quite sure what he’s done to earn it, or what to do with it now that he’s got it.

Tim’s hot and tight where Kon pushes into him but the first finger slips in easily, and it isn’t long before Tim’s asking for another one and all Kon can do is oblige. He watches, mesmerised, as his best friend squeezes his eyes shut and rocks his hips against his hand, Kon’s own breath hitching whenever he hits that spot inside of Tim that makes him arch his back and tense around Kon’s fingers.

“I thought of you every time I did this to myself,” Tim admits in between his quiet, little moans, “Every single time.”

Kon can’t hold back a groan of his own at the mental image of Tim naked and stretched out on top of the covers of his bed in Wayne Manor, with his fingers shoved up his own ass, crying out Kon’s name as he comes. He starts thrusting his fingers into Tim a little harder, faster, and wraps his other hand around his own cock; watching as Tim’s hungry eyes follow the movement of his thumb as he runs it over the head, spreading the precome before he gives himself a few sharp tugs, just to take the edge off.

“Kon, please, c’mon,” Tim trembles around him, throwing his head back as Kon spreads his fingers inside of him and bends forward to suck on his nipple, “I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready—”

Kon doesn’t need to be told twice, and Tim lets out a soft sigh when he pulls out his fingers. He sits back on his haunches and wipes his hand on the bed sheet, fidgeting a little when a sudden thought hits him, “Um, I guess it’s a little late now, since you’ve already, uh, sucked me off and all but… do you want me to use a condom?”

Tim winces when he realises that that’s something both of them should have thought about much sooner, so Kon rushes to reassure him, “Oh, no, it’s not that! We, um, we don’t have to, actually, unless you want to— you know how I don’t get colds? It’s kinda the same for… this sort of stuff. I guess it’s—”

“A Kryptonian thing?” Tim guesses, raising an amused eyebrow at Kon.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Tim whispers as he wraps both of his legs around Kon’s waist and pulls him closer, “Then no, I don’t want to.”

“Okay, yeah, right,” Kon swallows hard, not quite trusting himself to say anything else right now. He squirts a generous amount of lube into his palm before he starts stroking himself, shuddering a little when he hears Tim let out a broken moan at the sight. He stops and stares as Tim pulls back his knees and lets his legs fall open wider, his wet hole twitching and ready; his eyes all but begging for Kon to fill him up.

“Shit, Tim,” Kon mutters as he falls forward, placing one hand next to Tim’s head to balance himself. He’s all of a sudden very, very glad that four years have passed since he first realised that his feelings for Tim aren’t exactly what one would call ‘platonic’— because if they’d tried to do this back then, it would’ve been over long before Kon would have had the chance to give Tim what he wanted.

He captures Tim’s lips in a soft kiss, slow and unrushed, before he slips the head of his cock between Tim’s cheeks, “Ready?”

Tim nods, and when Kon pushes into him, the tight, wet heat of Tim’s ass is almost too much to bear, but it still doesn’t compare to the expression on his best friend’s face as he bottoms out; eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open, and Kon’s name falling from his lips like a prayer, “Kon, Kon, Kon, Kon, Kon—”

Holding onto his hips, hard enough that Kon selfishly hopes that he’ll wake up in the morning to find imprints of his fingers on Tim’s pale skin, Kon starts thrusting into him; slowly, at first, until Tim digs the heels of his feet into the small of Kon’s back, urging him to go faster.

Kon sucks one dark bruise after another into Tim’s bared neck, his shoulders, his throat, and all along his collarbone; intent on marking Tim his in every way imaginable. Tim’s got one hand buried in Kon’s hair, while the other is clawing at his biceps; pushing, pulling, meeting every one of Kon’s thrusts with one of his own, and it isn’t long before he’s starting to lose his rhythm and whimpers into Kon’s ear, “Kon, please!”

“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you,” Kon gasps out and reaches between them to wrap a firm hand around Tim’s cock, pumping once, twice, and then Tim’s crying out his name, spilling all over Kon’s hand and both of their chests and stomachs.

“Fuck, Tim, I’m gonna— I should—” Kon falters when he feels his own orgasm approach. He’s about to pull out when Tim’s legs lock around his waist, and the other boy grabs ahold of his chin with his thumb and index finger and makes their eyes meet.

“Don’t you dare,” Tim threatens, “Make me yours, clone boy.”

And Kon does, moaning into Tim’s mouth, loud and filthy, as he comes hard and buries himself as deep inside of Tim’s body as he can.

---

Kon wakes up at the first light of dawn, with Tim’s back pressed against his chest, his nose buried in the other boy’s tousled hair. He blinks a few times, arms tightening instinctively around his best friend’s body. With a soft, contented sigh, he nuzzles Tim’s neck and starts pressing lazy kisses into his skin, running his knuckles up and down Tim’s side until the other boy stirs and turns around in his arms.

“Morning,” Tim smiles up at Kon; warm like the sun, his eyes still a little puffy from sleep.

Kon smiles back and pulls him closer. He lets Tim bury his face in the crook of his neck and tries not to ruin the moment by making a comment about how he wouldn’t have expected the other boy to be so… cuddly. He figures there’ll be plenty of time to tease him for it later; for now, he’s happy to just keep running his hands through Tim’s hair, taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart and how it matches his own.

When his eyes fall onto the small, red and purple bruises scattered all over Tim’s neck and shoulders, however, he can’t stop a smug grin from spreading across his face, “I marked you up good, Wonder Boy.”

Tim lets out a snort and asks, knowingly, “Proud of yourself, are you?”

“A little.”

Tim is quiet for a long moment before he starts laughing, his whole body shaking in Kon’s tight embrace, and when Kon leans back to get a look at his face, his best friend’s smirk is pure evil, “You realise that the Batcave has communal showers?”

Kon gulps.

Crap.

Batman’s gonna kill him.

Notes:

Comments are love ♡

– Elle