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Wannabe Gotham gangsters were somehow always more annoying than the real deal.
At least real gangsters knew their weight, and knew when throwing it around wasn’t going to get them anywhere with the goddamned Red Hood. Wannabes were always half as powerful and twice as annoying. It got messier, when they made the bad assumption Jason had a Batman-themed moral code.
Which meant Jason found his way into his safehouse an hour later than he wanted to be, and covered in more blood and grime than should’ve been necessary for a simple arms deal.
One of these days, Jason really needed to get out of Gotham.
Today wasn’t that day though. As for tonight, Jason had a tv dinner in his fridge calling his name, some late-night shitty tv, a hot shower, and a bed waiting for him. Whether in that order or not.
Jason tugged off his helmet and jacket, throwing them on the floor of one of his nicer safehouses. It wasn’t his favorite, but he couldn’t be assed to drag himself all the way to Crime Alley after arguing for thirty minutes about shitty guns.
He had one hand wrapped around the other, about to yank off his gloves when he paused.
Of course, his luck had to be that shit.
The alarm system hadn’t gone off, but there was someone in the safehouse either way. Because nothing in this goddamned world could be nice to Jason Todd.
Jason grabbed a gun and cocked it, following the faint noise. Light streamed from underneath his bathroom door, that was half ajar. He walked slow and soft-footed, until he was pressed against the wall next to the door.
It sounded like-
It sounded like someone was throwing up Jason’s damned bathroom.
Or, trying to. The retching sound was painful and pathetic, like a sick animal that needed to be put down. Or some homeless junkie on a bad bender.
No normal junkie could break into Jason’s safehouse, though. So he was betting on the former.
“If you get puke all over my fucking bathroom before I blow your brains out, it’s seriously going to piss me off. That’s twice the damned clean-up,” Jason warned, pushing the door open with his gun and cocking it. “Oh. You. What the fuck?”
Jason didn’t lower the gun, or even uncock it at the sight of Tim Drake in his bathroom, bent over the toilet. It didn’t look like he’d thrown up yet, but his skin was just a few shades too white, even for Tim. His forehead was peppered with what looked like a cold sweat.
“Sorry,” Tim’s voice barely sounded like his own. It was scratchy, rough with nails and some kind of mental anguish Jason was pretty sure he didn’t want to be the one to decipher. “Your safehouse was closer than mine.”
“If you’ve got some kind of disease and you brought it to my fucking turf, I’m gonna have a fucking fit,” Jason made a face at Tim’s state. He wasn’t in his Red Robin uniform, but he wasn’t in plain clothes either. It was some kind of fancy, rich boy suit. Brilliant gold patterns on soft black satin that glittered under the bathroom’s shitty fluorescents.
“I’m not sick,” Tim groaned, closing his eyes and leaning against the tiled wall. He looked like he couldn’t even hold himself upright.
“Bullshit.”
Tim cracked an eye open just to glare at Jason. “I’m not.” He was quiet for a moment, then looked down at himself. “I’m not sick with any kind of disease or something you could catch.” He vaguely waved a hand. “It’s fine. I just needed…”
“Are you drugged?” Jason looked him up and down. Tim’s fingers looked slick, wet. The pieces slowly slid together. “You were trying to make yourself throw up. I feel like you of all people would know that’s not how you deal with that.”
“Not drugged.” Tim shook his head. “Already checked for that.”
“So are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on with you?” Jason finally put the gun away. He pulled off his gloves and domino mask. “Because I’m not above kicking you out on the streets and calling Dick to come handle your ass.”
“Don’t,” Tim winced, responding just a beat too fast. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”
“But it’s fine if the family fuck up does.” Despite the words, there was no real heat to Jason’s voice, just a plain observance.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
Jason shrugged. “No one ever does.”
“You know that cult I’ve been trying to get information on?” Tim changed the topic, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Yeah, the one that’s been doing all those weird fucking ritualistic murders?” Jason peeled away layers of armor and weaponry.
Tim nodded. “I managed to get an invite to one of their meetings, undercover.” He vaguely gestured to his gaudy suit. “I didn’t… didn’t realize how far I’d have to go, to keep my cover and get what I needed.” His face turned a sickly shade of green. “Oh god.”
Jason tilted his head to the side, taking a step forward. “You gonna elaborate on that?”
“They killed a girl.” Tim’s face twisted up, and he let out a shuddering breath.
“Yeah, it’s a murder cult. I don’t know what you were expecting, baby bird.”
Tim scowled. “I know. I just didn’t expect them to make me drink her blood.”
Jason let out a low whistle in surprise. “There it is.” He pulled off more layers of armour and weaponry. “You know, if you’re worried about diseases, puking it up doesn’t do you any good. Besides, drinking a little blood isn’t going to kill you.”
“I know,” Tim repeated, his glare turning more withering. “It’s not… I’m not worried about that. The damn cult selects healthy… sacrifices. I just…” There was a shake, in Tim’s fingers that climbed up his arms until his entire body was trembling. “I drank her blood, Jay.” He sounded so desperate. Unhinged, in a way that Jason was pretty sure Tim Drake always was on the inside, but never actually shown on the outside.
“It’s a mental thing,” Jason finally concluded. He took a few steps over to Tim and crouched next to him with a sigh. He put the back of his fingers against Tim’s forehead. Tim flinched at the touch, but didn’t seem to have the energy to pull away from it. “Poor little nepotism Robin thought he could solve the uglier side of Gotham, and then you get squeamish over some cannibalism.” Jason dropped his hand. “You’ve worked yourself up so much you’ve got a fever, by the way.”
“It wasn’t…” Tim’s face twisted up. “Oh my god. Was it cannibalism?”
“You drank her blood. You tell me.”
“Oh god.” Tim clutched the toilet again, pitching over it so hard he almost gave himself a swirlie. “Fuck, Jay. I saw her face. I saw them butcher her. And then I-” A retching noise came out of him. “I’m a terrible person. Oh my god.”
Jason shrugged. “No more terrible than the rest of us. The job gets messy sometimes. You’re really not going to calm down until you get this out of your system, are you?”
“Her blood is in me,” Tim said it like it was supposed to make Jason understand why Tim was so torn up about it. Privileged rich kids really couldn’t handle the pressure, sometimes. “I can’t…”
“Have you ever actually made yourself throw up?”
“No, when the hell does that come up?”
“Clearly, more for me than it has for you.” Jason had gotten halfway through food in a dumpster before finding mold on more than one occasion. “Do you want help?”
Tim’s squint was one Jason was used to being on the other side of, analytical and reeking of judgment. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Absolutely.” Jason didn’t hesitate. “But it’s a real offer. If I help, you’ll probably do a better job of not getting vomit blood all over my fucking bathroom.”
Another groan tore out of Tim. He was swaying now, and Jason was already bracing himself to catch the little drama king if he fell over. Tim drowning in Jason’s toilet would be funny as hell, but a hard story for him to explain.
Tim said something, but it was so mumbled and slurred with hair hanging over his face, Jason couldn’t even begin to make it out.
“English, Replacement.”
More wounded animal groaning. “Fine. Only if… you want.”
“What I want is a cheap tv dinner and a shitty telenovela on, but we’re already here.” Jason readjusted himself to kneeling behind Tim. The bathroom really was too small for this, with his boots kicking up against the bathtub. But Jason was going to be damned if this weird situation was going to get dragged out longer.
Tim mumbled again, but this time Jason was pretty sure it was something along the lines of ‘thank you’.
“Don’t mention it. Ever. I never want to be reminded of this moment again,” Jason hummed. “Fuck, how the hell am I supposed to do this.” Jason rued the fucking day he jacked the Batmobile’s tires.
Jason pressed his front against Tim’s back. It was a jarring contrast, Tim’s pretty boy suit against the remnants of Jason’s armor. He’d stripped away a lot of it, but there were still some buckles and straps that must’ve been digging into Tim’s back. Not that Jason cared. Tim knew better than to expect kindness when it was Jason’s lap he came crawling into like a fucking stray.
With uncaring fingers, Jason grabbed Tim’s jaw, opening it by just pressing his finger. It was a motion Jason had a little too much experience with, in situations far more interesting than this one. It pulled a noise out of Tim, something that was hard to place. Something barely human.
“I should’ve kept my gloves on.” Jason cringed at the realization he was about to be shoving his fingers in someone’s mouth, with the intent of getting puked on.
“That would’ve been disgusting,” Tim mumbled.
Jason leaned over Tim’s shoulder, until his cheek was resting against Tim’s temple. “I’m helping you fucking vomit. We’re well past it. Now quit talking and let me do this. Aim for the toilet, you’re cleaning up any mess you leave.” As he said it, Jason jerked Tim’s face down, forcing him to look into the bowl. Tim just nodded best he could, with Jason holding his face.
It has to be humiliating, in it’s own way. Staring into a toilet bowl, a man Tim had never even really gotten along with kneeling behind him, helping him force up vomit. The sadistic, twisted little part of Jason longed to live in Tim’s brain. He longed to know how Tim was justifying this in his perfectly pragmatic little thought process, how he was trying to convince himself this wasn’t going to change the grounds of their relationship and make them just a shade too familiar with each other.
Tim had started shaking again. Probably all the anguish of the whole drinking blood thing getting to him again. Maybe it was fear.
Maybe it was anticipation. The same anticipation that had started building in Jason’s veins.
With his one hand still bracing Tim’s jaw open so he wouldn’t reflexively try to bite down, Jason brought the fingers of his other hand to Tim’s mouth. Tim kept himself lax, letting rough fingers force their way in.
Tim’s mouth was warm. Velvety and wet, a ghost of better memories Jason had of other situations where he had his fingers in someone’s mouth. It was so dangerously perverse, but Jason ignored it. The thoughts of those scenes would fade once there was vomit everywhere.
A squirming tongue was underneath Jason’s fingers as he pushed deeper and deeper. It was like Tim wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Jason craved to hear his internal monologue, to listen in on how Tim was probably trying to sooth and steel himself for the coming discomfort.
Finally, Jason’s fingers found resistance, a resistance that came with coughing and gagging. Tim started to struggle, trying to pull back. The awkwardly close position worked to Jason’s favor now, making it easy for him to keep Tim from going anywhere. Jason shifted on his knees, bracing one on either side of Tim’s hips, caging him further.
“Stop fucking squirming,” Jason growled, soft and low. Tim paused for only a second, but then kept wiggling around like a mouse caught with the cheese. “You asked for this.”
Tim tried to say something, but it only really came out as a choking indignant noise. Probably complaining about how rough Jason was being, or how shitty it was.
Jason could be rougher, though.
With a soft grunt, he shoved his fingers harder. Tim’s entire body spasmed as Jason’s fingers hit the back of his throat, and then pushed even further. It was a hell of a gag reflex, Jason had to admit.
It didn’t take much once Jason got his fingers deep enough. Tim went from struggling and choking, to lurching forward with one hand gripping the toilet and the other Jason’s arm. Jason knew the warning well enough to get his fingers out of the way.
To Tim’s credit, he did get most of it in the toilet bowl.
One second the bowl was perfectly white and porcelain, and then Tim was bent over and choking up blood. However much Jason had guessed Tim had drank, he’d clearly underestimated. There was red and red and red, dripping down Tim’s face and onto his fancy shirt, coating Jason’s fingers, splattering the toilet bowl.
Something in Jason was oddly fascinated by it. There was the initial cringe of disgust. But then. Then, underneath somewhere, a part of Jason was intently watching. Taking in every tortured sound Tim made, tracing the shudders down his spine, considering every drop of blood as if it was a part of a painting.
At some point, Jason had started petting Tim’s hair with the hand that hadn’t gotten vomit blood coated, soothing the trembling. It was so uncharacteristically kind, for Jason.
Nothing about this scene could be characteristic.
It was impossible to guess how long Tim had thrown up for, when time seemed to bend around them. It sort of reminded Jason of the time he’d been on a mission and speedsters showed up and something something Speed Force made time seem to slow into molasses. The world around them still spun as fast as ever, but they were a slowed down portrait of something so deeply inhumane.
Tim sucked in lungfuls of air like he’d never tasted oxygen before. He coughed a few times, then spit out the remaining blood in his mouth. Jason waited, feeling every movement and tremble against this own skin. It almost felt like he was vibrating with it.
“That felt awful,” Tim’s voice was miserable and scratchy. He tilted his head up, half of his weight practically collapsing against Jason’s body. “That… fuck. That’s so much blood.” He sounded the same way he did when he was first bent over the toilet, half delirious and half horrified.
It really was. The blood was an odd texture, half-digested and thin with bile. The iron scent couldn’t mask the distinct scent of vomit. The bit that hadn’t gotten into the toilet dripped down the sides, giving a distinct, crime scene sort of feel.
“I was gonna say,” Jason commented, lazy and uncaring to Tim’s mental state, except for the hair petting. “How much of that poor girl did you fucking drink?”
“I didn’t…” Tim gasped, desperate and wet. He was retching again. This was just half-hearted dry heaving, where the only thing that seemed to come out of Tim was whatever was left of his pride. “I feel disgusting.”
Jason hummed in vague agreement. “You look it too.” Well. Maybe disgusting wouldn’t be the word Jason would use. He wasn’t sure what word he’d use.
Perverse, maybe.
Precious and fragile but already shattered, yet still beautiful, somehow. Not in the way a mosaic was, where there was purpose in the jagged edges. Tim wasn’t a fragile kind of chaos, like this. Or ever, really. He wasn’t the storm, he was the aftermath of it. Beauty in knowing touching the glass would cut, yet grabbing it full-fisted anyways, just to slice open skin. Jason’s skin or Tim’s skin, he really wasn’t picky.
“No.” Tim sounded frustrated. “I don’t… I don’t mean on the outside. I mean me. I’m disgusting.” Usually, Tim was good with words. It was one of those things he always got praised for, how perfectly he could craft a sentence and woo anyone in any corner of his life. It worked on even the likes of Bruce. An inherent piece of Tim, so perfectly crafted and built over the years.
And now. Now it had been stripped away, and Jason was a little too gleeful to have the bare remnant literally in his arms.
This was the part where Jason was supposed to call it. Recognize that Tim was clearly too deep in his head, and that this was above Jason’s paygrade. He wasn’t the one for this kind of thing. Dick was, Bruce was, Steph was, really anyone who hadn’t been touched by madness that he couldn’t scrub out of his own veins. Tim would hate him, in the moment. But it would be what was best for Tim.
Usually, despite all of Jason’s dramatics, he could get someone help. He could be fucking helpful.
But.
But now, Jason didn’t want to help Tim. He didn’t want to find someone to piece Tim back together, and for this moment to fade away into being ignored by both of them for the rest of their sorry lives.
He wanted to crush the broken pieces under his boot. Grind his heel in until it shattered into a deadly dust that he could stick his fingers in and get everywhere.
Something as beautiful as Tim deserved to be broken and destroyed.
And half of the job had already been done for Jason. It was only fair for him to finish it.
“Yeah?” Jason whispered. “Because you drank some poor bitch’s blood, or because you’re puking it back up in my shitty fucking bathroom?”
“Mm,” was all that came out of Tim. Jason longed to see his face. To see the blood across it, to smear it around and make a mess. To mark Tim. It really was some kind of shame that it was a stranger’s blood, and not blood of their own. “She was… so young.”
Jason nodded sagely. “Forget about her, then.”
“What?” A shudder rolled through Tim and he was coughing again, nails digging into Jason’s skin.
“Stop thinking about her.” There was more command in Jason’s voice now. “Pretend it’s. Pretend it’s my blood you’re choking on. Not some stranger who doesn’t matter.”
“That’s vile.”
“All of this is,” Jason agreed without a second thought. “I died, didn’t I? Who cares the schematics. If it helps you cope, think about it being my blood. I’m still alive behind you. It’s all the same.”
It wasn’t going to help him cope. It definitely wasn’t going to help in any way. But it was a fun little thought for Jason to chase, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t a sharer.
“If you… if you think so,” Tim said. He didn’t sound sure, but he probably wasn’t mentally sound enough to know up from down, right now. He was falling apart, piece by piece, right into Jason’s lap.
Something Jason didn’t know he even wanted until now, when it was perfectly laid out in front of him.
“That all of it?” Jason asked. He shifted his weight between his legs. He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that he’d already taken off his jockstrap.
Tim made a noise. “Don’t… think so. Want it out.” He coughed, pitching over the toilet again. Jason had to grab him by the hair and pull him back upright, so Tim didn’t fall face first into all the blood.
It’d be a pretty sight. But Jason had to keep some kind of control over the situation.
“Do you want me to do it again? To be sure?” Jason’s bloody fingers crept back over Tim’s cheek, stroking right next to his mouth.
Tim shook his head, almost violently. “It hurt.”
“I know it hurt. Puking your guts is never pretty. But you’re the one who drank blood.”
“Fuck.” Tim choked on the word, then he choked on more dry heaving. Jason held him through it, feeling every tremor against his body. The movement and squirming pooled a feeling in his groin that was getting harder to ignore. Jason was only human, though, and so was the gentle sigh that came out of him at the friction.
“Fuck, are- are you hard?” Tim twisted, trying to look at Jason.
It was impressive he had the presence of mind to notice. A testament to the detective skills of Tim Drake and all his brilliance. Or maybe, Jason was just obvious. It didn’t really matter either way.
“You’re grinding and squirming right against my crotch,” Jason blew it off smoothly, like it wasn’t even a present thought in his mind. “I was ignoring it.”
“That’s-” Tim coughed, trying to steady his voice- “I’m throwing up in your toilet. Throwing up blood. That’s fucked up, Jason.”
“Whose blood?” Jason asked. It was so soft and came out without thought, on a pure animalistic instinct. Maybe Tim didn’t hear it. Maybe if he did, Jason could brush it off as trying to help. Maybe-
“Yours.”
Such a shaky, desperate little word. And Jason was drunk on it.
“Right,” Jason practically purred it. “You and I both know I’m a pretty fucked up guy. Get dunked in the Pit sometime. See how it crosses your wires.”
“But…” Tim sounded unsure. So small. So sweet.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know,” Tim sounded positively miserable. “Us. This. Wrong.”
Jason just shrugged. “Sure. But what the hell is right?”
The groan that came out of Tim sounded annoyed at how Jason was forcibly misunderstanding him. “Can you just… please?” Tim gestured vaguely.
“Sure. Open your mouth.” Jason braced himself again, getting a steady hold on Tim’s hair.
There was buildup, this time. The exhilarating clicking of a roller coaster going up and up, sitting right on the crux, about to drop. Jason’s heart was pounding as he pushed two fingers into Tim’s mouth, sliding in deep until he hit where he needed to.
Tim struggled more this time. Outright clawing at Jason’s arm, yanking to get away from him. Jason’s breath caught in his throat at the friction. It took him a second to realize he was grinding, lazily humping Tim’s ass.
Tim was right. Jason was fucked up.
The sound of Tim vomiting was such an interesting, pained noise that twisted around Jason’s ears. He was entranced by it, entranced by pushing Tim’s head down so he would get all of the crimson into the toilet. Maybe his grip on Tim's hair was just a bit too tight. Jason was too far gone, in his own way, to care.
They were both out of their fucking minds. Their existence was untamed, unleashed. Unjudged. Unconditional. Intertwined, and bleeding into each other with the same red they were covered in.
Jason didn’t know what the hell true love was, but he had to imagine this was pretty close to it.
It was all too quickly that Tim’s coughing slowed, then stopped. It turned to plain panting, a beautifully feral sound in it’s own right.
“You good?” Jason asked. He knew the answer, but raking Tim over the coals had its joy.
“No.” Tim sniffed, then coughed again. “I can taste it. It’s in my nose.”
“Taste me instead,” Jason said. He pushed his fingers into Tim’s mouth. Not far enough to make him gag, just resting against his tongue. Tim didn’t argue. He accepted the invasion, closing his lips around them and tonguing at Jason’s fingers, sucking faintly.
They stayed like that for a while. Maybe for an entire century. The world could’ve lived and died before Jason would’ve dared fucking move from his perfect, fucked up little scene. Just hearing Tim breathe, smelling the blood and vomit, feeling the pressure and warmth against his dick distracted him from having any urgency about taking care of it. It was a moment Jason wanted to rip open and crawl inside of, so he could live there, forever.
Tim started to squirm.
Not in the same way as before. He wasn’t trying to get away from Jason. Just shifting and moving around, awkward and unsure. Like he couldn’t find a way to get comfortable.
Jason looked down. And laughed.
“Looks like I’m not the only fucked up one, baby bird.”
There was a soft, but noticeable tent in Tim’s suit pants.
An angry little noise came out of Tim. He pulled away from Jason’s fingers, practically spitting them out. “It’s not because- I’m not-”
“Not because of the blood puke, yeah.” Jason nodded. “I figured that. Still curious about what it is because of, though.”
Tim’s mumble was indecipherable, with his chin tucked downward.
“Tim.”
“I don’t know,” Tim said, swaying a little. “I always… had a crush on you. As a kid. It never played out like this in my head.”
Oh, that was adorable.
A precious, innocent little thing that Jason had corrupted again and again. Corrupted him into wanting to be Robin. Corrupted him by trying to kill him. And now, corrupting him like this. Every shakeup in Tim Drake’s life could be traced back to Jason, and it stroked his possessive streak.
“Not even you can plan for every possibility. Imagine that.” Jason stroked Tim’s face with the backs of his fingers, probably smearing blood everywhere. Good.
Jason stroked his fingers down Tim’s jaw, to his throat. A part of him wanted to grab and squeeze, cutting off air and blood flow. That could come another time, maybe. If they had another time. For now, Tim was a precious little thing that Jason was going to take apart. Slow and delicate.
The shirt was already mostly done for, but there was joy in soiling Tim’s pants with Jason’s bloody fingers, tugging open the button and zipper. Jason pushed the pants down, with Tim’s briefs.
Tim had gloriously slender hips, with modest muscles and adorable love handles. Jason briefly squeezed his hip, before moving further south.
“What are you doing?” Tim’s words were a little slurred.
“Solving a mutual problem. Taking the edge of your anxiety off.” Jason pressed a chaste kiss against Tim’s temple. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Tim whined when Jason’s fingers curled around his dick, but it sounded a little panicked. Just how Jason liked it. “I don’t- not like this. I don’t want it like this. You’re getting- there’s so much blood.”
There was blood. It was smeared across Tim’s hips and v-line, spreading all the way down to his dick, which was still loosely in Jason’s grip. Personally, Jason thought it was a brilliant sight, one he wanted to live on.
“Just trust me,” Jason promised. There wasn’t a single good thing in him worth trusting. He was going to chew Tim up and spit him back out, and savor every flavor. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”
Tim went quiet.
“Oh, baby bird.” Jason kissed his temple again. “Hell of a first time.”
“I hate you,” Tim was positively miserable, but his stuttering breathing came in time with every little movement of Jason’s hand on Tim’s dick.
“You and all of Gotham, trust me.” Jason didn’t take it to heart. Words were empty, but Tim’s cock was full and filled out, with all the same blood it was covered in.
Giving Tim pleasure was so easy. Tim was strung up on suffering and pain. The faintest brushes of Jason’s fingers exploring every inch of Tim’s cock and balls had Tim shaking again, pitching forward and letting out little moans on every breath. Jason wasn’t quite stroking, just exploring. Finding the sensitive spots, like right underneath the head. Smearing blood everywhere. Squeezing Tim’s balls until his breath hitched and his hips were trying to rut, making his cockhead bump up against the base of the toilet.
Maybe Tim wasn’t into all the fucked up grime like Jason was, but he liked a little pain all the same.
“Jason,” Tim slurred. He sounded desperate. Strung up on too many emotions.
“I’m here,” Jason reassured. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
He had Tim, and was going to hold Tim as he tipped and fell over the edge. Tim already sounded so close to subspace. Or maybe he was already in it. Maybe it was a sub drop. Jason didn’t care, he’d take either. They both put Tim right at his mercy. Put Jason in control of every little thing Tim did.
And what a fun power trip that was.
When Jason’s hand left Tim’s cock, a bratty little whine came out of Tim. “Was close,” Tim mumbled, head lolling back to rest on Jason’s shoulder.
“I know,” Jason cooed, without an ounce of real sympathy. “Be patient. I’m gonna make this good for both of us. Trust me.”
Tim made a soft noise, but he relaxed, breathing slowing down. “I trust you.”
That was probably his biggest mistake, but the adorable naivety made Jason smile.
Jason pushed Tim’s pants down further, until they were pooled around Tim’s knees and out of the way of what he really wanted. Jason had to shuffle backwards a bit, making the warm pressure leave his cock. He could be patient, though. There was no rush in getting what he wanted. Tim sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere.
Lube. Jason could finger Tim dry. Tim was so out of it, Jason doubted he’d even get that much of a struggle. Pain was a fun thing to blend with pleasure. There was tantalizing temptation in pushing just how much pain there was that Tim could enjoy, if it was on the masochistic side. Could Jason make him beg for it? Take him apart at the seams with the burn?
He considered it, and his fingers were already creeping towards Tim’s ass with the thought.
But. He had a better option, right in front of him.
Jason leaned forward and reached into the toilet.
“What are you doing?” Tim’s voice was laced with disgust, watching Jason’s fingers disappear into the blood, even if only for a moment.
“Lube is all the way in the bedroom,” Jason said it like it was so obvious, so normal. “You said the blood was clean.”
There was a moment, as Tim seemed to process what Jason meant. “That’s- no. I don’t- that’s disgusting. Please, don’t.”
“You said you trusted me.” Jason flicked the excess blood off his fingertips. It was downright manipulative, and he didn’t care one bit. Jason was manipulative to his core. Tim really should know better, by now. He chose to tango with this.
Jason’s fingers left a mesmerizing trail of blood over Tim’s skin. It made him want to drench every inch of both of them in blood, like something out of a movie. The best kisses were ones that tasted like iron and mistakes. Blood was so much sweeter than nectar.
The soft tracing over Tim’s skin finally led Jason to Tim’s ass. Jason rubbed against Tim’s hole and listened for the way Tim’s breath stuttered.
“No,” Tim tried to sound more firm, but it came out scared. “I don’t want it in me. Jason, please.”He reached behind himself, fumbling to try to grab onto Jason’s arm.
“Shh.” Jason grabbed Tim’s hand. He didn’t have to be rough, when Tim had no strength to struggle with. It was a gentle re-arranging of Tim’s limbs, bringing his arm back to his front. Holding his hand like a lover, pressed against Tim’s chest. “It’s okay. It’s just me. I’m going to be inside you anyway. Breathe.”
“Fuck,” Tim breathed. Every ounce of desperation and panic twisting through his voice was a drug Jason was getting high off of. “Okay. Okay.” He breathed in and out, trying to steady himself.
Jason hummed in approval. “Good boy.”
A reedy noise came out of Tim. So he liked praise. That was a useful little fact. It made sense, all considered. Always cast aside for something more important by the people in his life, Tim probably lived off of the scraps of love he could find.
Jason was going to give him a lot more than scraps.
“Just relax. Be good for me,” Jason said, rubbing his finger over the tight ring of muscle. Tim was a bit tense, which would make it harder. Jason didn’t mind a challenge.
The slow push of Jason’s finger into Tim’s flesh was drawn out. Jason enjoyed watching for every minute reaction he could find out of Tim from just one finger. The way his hand clenched Jason’s. His stuttered breathing. His back arching, just a bit. Him pushing down onto Jason’s finger, despite all of his hesitance.
“Oh,” Tim mumbled. “Weird. That feels- weird.”
He hadn’t even fingered himself before. Precious, unsoiled little thing.
“Give it time,” Jason promised. “Just relax.”
Jason started moving his finger in and out. Twisting and pressing around. He wasn’t really searching for Tim’s prostate. Not yet, anyway. Just getting Tim used to the feeling of penetration. Letting Tim’s body go through the motions of adjusting. Clenching and unclenching around the finger, squirming a bit.
“Perfect,” Jason praised. “You’re taking it so well.”
A broken noise tore out of Tim’s throat. He was positively gone now. Nothing but a pile of flesh in Jason’s arms, for him to mold and shape as he pleased.
He pressed a second finger into Tim’s ass, smearing more of the blood into him. With two fingers, Jason had better purchase into Tim’s inner walls, and an easier time stretching him out. Tim was moaning, broken and messy. It could’ve been from pleasure. It could’ve been from discomfort. It was probably both. Jason enjoyed the noises no matter what they were. Proof of the control and effect he had on Tim.
His fingers brushed against Tim’s prostate, and Tim screamed.
It was such a simple thing, but Tim’s back bowed and he was practically fucking himself onto Jason’s fingers, mewling and whining.
Jason laughed, twisting his fingers into the spot. “You’re feeling a little eager. That good?”
Whatever words Tim tried to say got choked out by another moan, but he nodded, eyes fluttering shut.
It was tempting, to just do two fingers. Jason could make it work. But this edge he had Tim on was fragile, and hurting him too much could snap it. All of Tim’s struggling was just token, now. Jason wanted to keep it that way, so he slipped a third finger in.
The pained little wince that came out of Tim didn’t mask the way his hips jerked and his dick positively twitched at the pain. Jason’s grin was so sharp it hurt his cheeks.
Moving around his fingers was really just Jason toying with Tim, now. Tugging at Tim’s rim to make him whimper, stroking his prostate to make Tim keen. It was like Jason was playing with a toy, pressing different buttons to see what he could make it do. He pumped his fingers in and out, watching the way Tim’s hips worked to meet every thrust, desperately angling himself to have his prostate hit dead-on.
“Please,” Tim begged. “Jay, please.”
“Please, what?”
Frustration rolled off of Tim in waves. “Please, everything hurts. It’s all wrong. Please just. Fuck me?”
It was definitely wrong. On the list of things that were going to send Jason to hell, this night was probably going to take the top spot. But Jason was already damned, and he couldn’t damn himself any harder for enjoying carnal, fucked up pleasure.
“Since you asked so nicely for it.”
Jason pulled his fingers out, watching with rapt curiosity as Tim’s hole fluttered at the loss. Undoing his own pants took a second. He really should’ve stripped out of all of his armor before getting into all this. It couldn’t be faulted for not knowing where this was going to go.
Not that he could complain.
A hiss was forced out of his teeth when Jason finally freed his cock, and the cold bathroom air hit it. He was flushed and hard. Jason pushed his pants all the way out of the way, then went back to the toilet of blood to slick his fingers back up.
Tim turned his head away from the sight. Like if he didn’t see Jason using the blood, he could pretend it wasn’t there. Pretend that he wasn’t getting fucked with blood that Jason was going to force so deep inside of Tim, nothing could ever truly was it out.
It was a shame. Tim was missing out on what a beautiful sight he was, bloody and feral.
Jason stroked himself a few quick, short times. He didn’t need any pleasure from it, when the main course was already laid out in front of him. Just enough to get slick and crimson.
He lined himself up, pressing his head right against Tim’s entrance. Jason would give anything for a picture of the sight. His cock against Tim’s ass, both coated red. How they were meant to be.
Jason gave Tim’s hand a faint squeeze with his other hand. He could feel Tim’s heart pounding against his chest, every beat vibrating into Jason’s skin. It was a soft echo of everything Jason wanted. He wanted to carve a hole into Tim’s chest, to force his hand inside. He wanted to hold that beating, pounding heart right in his bare fucking hand. He wanted to see the look in Tim’s eyes, when Jason had his livelihood right in his hand.
It was that mental image, that fantasy, that made Jason push into Tim, giving into the warm, tight pleasure with his own rough moan. It felt like Tim was perfectly molded for him, built for Jason to slide right home into, and never fucking leave.
“Jason.” Tim said his name like a prayer. “Jason, oh my god.”
“See?” Jason steadied himself, grabbing Tim’s hip. “I told you. Trust me.”
Jason dragged out his hips, letting Tim feel every inch slide against his walls. Then he snapped back in, hard enough to send them both tumbling forward into the seat of the toilet. That was the pace Jason went with, a slow drag out, and a hard punch in. He could go faster. Rougher. But this was something to be savored.
“Fucking gorgeous,” Jason said, hearing every tortured noise that got ripped out of Tim when his prostate was abused. Tim was practically sobbing, pushing his hips back and trying to get a faster pace, but Jason held him still.
Tim was clawing at the white tiles of the wall, leaving it streaked with a handprint of blood. Like he was painting Jason’s bathroom, coating it with their existence. Jason was obsessed with the artistry of it, how well it went with all of Tim’s gasped moans.
“Tell me how you feel,” Jason ordered softly, kissing all over Tim’s face. It got blood on Jason’s lips too, and he licked it off. The taste was something vile, but still worth every drop.
“I…” Tim shuddered on a thrust, whining. “I feel too much. I can’t…”
“Use your words.” Jason licked his face. He was panting into Tim, like his own kind of wild animal. Predator who finally caught their prey.
“I feel sick,” Tim whined. “Feels good. Fuck, Jason.” His voice was positively a wreck, and every word came out between the wanton noises that Jason’s careful thrusts forced out of him. “Feels good, but I still feel like…”
“Feel like you’re going to throw up?”
Tim nodded, a pathetic little sound coming out of his throat.
“That’s okay,” Jason let go of Tim’s hand and crept his fingers up to cradle his jaw. “One more can’t hurt.”
“Don’t want to.” Tim shook his head and tried to yank it away from Jason’s hand. “Just want you to fuck me. Not that- no more.” He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t escape Jason’s hand, when the rest of Jason was right behind him, caging him in.
Tim’s moans were getting more high-pitched. Every stroke to his prostate made him flutter around Jason’s cock, his body twitching. He was close. Jason could probably get Tim to come without even touching his cock if he actually tried. In the afterglow, Tim would probably calm down from his whole breakdown, and they could clean up. Aftercare, all sweet and gentle. The few shreds of Tim’s dignity left intact.
Jason didn’t want that.
“It’ll be okay,” Jason tightened his grip on Tim’s jaw, pulling it back where Jason wanted. “You asked for this. I’m just giving you what you want, and what you need. You’re being so good for me. We’re almost there.”
“No, no,” Tim begged. How terrified his begging was, against his pleasured moaning. Jason liked the contrast.
Jason ignored him.
He forced his fingers into Tim’s mouth. Tim tried to bite down on him this time. Jason had taken worse. It didn’t take too much force to pry Tim’s mouth back open, especially with all the needy noises that kept pouring out of him as Jason drove into him.
There was nothing to be gentle about, now. Jason was just chasing his own perverse pleasure. Pushing and pushing. Pushing his cock into Tim’s ass. Pushing his fingers into Tim’s throat. Pushing, until that last part of Tim finally fucking snapped.
The choking and gagging were so distressed this time. Just as pretty as all the moaning. Jason snuck his spare hand around Tim’s cock just as he felt Tim’s body start to throw up.
Every part of it was perfect.
Tim’s pained vomiting, all of that beautiful crimson. The way his entire body spasmed, how tight he got around Jason’s cock. It was a vice grip that ruined Jason’s perfect pace. He was rutting into Tim, all of his control crumbling and gone. Tim was so fucking tight, milking Jason as he spilt his guts. Jason wanted every since part of Tim’s beautiful suffering.
He had meant to jerk Tim off in a nice, sweet way. Instead, the animalistic instincts took over. It was fast and rough. Maybe that was better for Tim’s masochistic side. Maybe not. Jason didn’t have the mind to care, when he was so close, so fucking close-
Just as Tim seemed to finish expelling blood, Jason was finishing too. Crashing and falling over the edge of a brilliant orgasm. It felt like looking straight into the sun. Consumed by warmth and wrapped in something bright and blinding. Jason was only distantly aware he was growling, fucking Tim so hard that Tim was practically bent over into the toilet.
“Good,” Jason growled. “So fucking good.”
Sick little pants from Tim turned to whines. His head was hung and boneless, but his hips had the energy to twitch and jerk, and then there was more clenching around Jason’s spent cock. Tim’s cum painted Jason’s fingers and the toilet, spraying over blood and mixing into it.
Puke, blood, cum. Three bodily fluids Jason didn’t know he’d liked mixing so much until now.
Tim’s orgasm finished with a low, long moan. Then he was completely boneless, and Jason was holding him up to keep him from drowning in the blood.
They stayed like that. Jason still inside of Tim, both of them panting and slick with blood.
Jason was fucking positive there was no moment in life that could compare to this.
Tim Drake was a fucking work of art.
“How do you feel now?” Jason asked, fumbling to find his own voice. It was rough, gravelly. Unlike himself.
“Mm.” Tim just pushed back into Jason, feeling the warmth between them. “Nice. Good.”
“Yeah,” Jason agreed. Wicked glee ran through him. He’d corrupted Tim. Fucked him up and brought him down to Jason’s level. Nothing Tim ever tried with anyone was going to compare to this. Anyone could treat him like a prince in bed. But no one could do it while dragging him through the filth like Jason could.
Seconds ticked by, that turned to minutes. The scent of vomit turned stale in Jason’s nose. The blood on their fingers turned tacky, and Jason could feel it cooling.
It was going to be a bitch to clean up, but it was going to be even worse if they let it dry.
A thick groan punched out of Jason as he forced his limbs to move, pulling out of the warmth of Tim’s ass. Tim whined, petulant and bratty at the loss.
“I know, I know.” Jason forced himself to his feet into a crouch. He collected Tim into his arms and picked him up in a bridal-style carry. It really only took one step and turning around to set Tim down into the bathtub, so Jason could strip off the rest of his clothes and armour.
“What?” Tim’s head lolled, resting on the tiled wall.
“We both need a shower,” Jason said, flexing as he pulled off his shirt. He didn’t miss how, even in Tim’s fucked out mindless state, he still watched Jason undress with rapt attention. His eyes traced every muscle as Jason shucked off his pants and underwear, tossing them onto the floor.
Once he was naked, he bent over to wrestle Tim out of his clothes. The entire suit was done for, and Tim mostly cooperated in moving his limbs for Jason to tug him out of it. Jason didn’t even bother with the buttons, just ripped the dress shirt straight open. It made Tim’s breath hitch, and Jason didn’t bite back his smirk.
Jason stepped into the shower and turned on the water, shielding Tim from it until it was hot enough for comfort. He picked up Tim under his armpits, letting Tim lean against him.
The warmth of the shower made Jason’s eyes slip shut. He was unaware of Tim, until soft fingers were tracing over his autopsy scar.
Jason cracked an eye open. “Something you like?”
Tim’s eyes snapped up. There was more awareness to them than before. He was slowly but surely clawing his way out of subspace. But the soft fog of his breakdown was still there, painting his features with unease. “I just…” Tim looked back down at the scars. “Think they look nice.”
“Makes one of us,” Jason said coolly. He used two fingers to tilt Tim’s chin up. Tim only had a split second to lock eyes with Jason, then Jason’s mouth was on his.
It was a messy kiss. Tim didn’t have any coordination for it, and he tasted like rancid vomit and sweet blood. Jason licked into his mouth for every drop, feeling Tim’s chapped lips. Tim pressed up against Jason, leaning into him like a dying man drinking from the fountain of the gods. He clung to Jason, a lifeline to Tim’s sanity.
When they broke apart, there was nothing human left in Tim’s eyes. Just a deeper, feral hunger. Blood lust in his eyes. Blood in his mouth. Jason licked his lips.
“Are we… are we going to be normal, after this?” Tim asked, searching Jason’s face.
Jason hummed. He looked up and down at Tim. He looked down at the pink blood swirling into the water. Most of it had been washed away. But the filth still clung just in how Jason saw Tim. Saw the perverse nature that lie dormant under his skin. No matter how he sewed himself back together, Jason had already cut him open and seen what was inside.
Maybe, they would be sewn back together in one piece. Flesh stuck to flesh. Filth marrying filth.
“Probably not,” Jason didn’t shy from the answer. “I bled inside you. Don’t really want to be normal. I prefer you like this.”
Tim made an analytical noise. He didn’t answer, just looked at Jason. Nodded. So simple in its way of giving in. So perfect.
Later, they would get out of the shower. Later, they would clean up the mess in the bathroom. Put on clothes, go cuddle on the shitty couch. Eat something, watch something. Go to sleep, and wake up and have a more proper, yet still stilted conversation about it all. Become real, normal masks of people again.
Later.
But for now, they existed like this. Pure and raw, animalistic and feral. And there was nothing more Jason could ask for.