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Game, Set, Match

Summary:

“Agenda is sending me off on a mission,” Match says, pulling out until only his tip is inside Tim, clenched by that pretty little hole. “Thought I’d get my dick wet one last time before I head out.”

He pushes in slow, revelling in the deep-throated sigh Tim gives him at the grind. Those dark brows pinch in their sleep, lips parting on an unspoken moan. Match can practically hear Kon’s teeth grinding to dust from here.

“What do you mean one last time?”

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” 

Match stutters to a halt inside Tim, head whipping towards the window, where Kon is climbing through. He touches down to the floorboards without sound, expression a wash of fury. Match feels electricity slide down his spine and buzz in his stomach. 

“Was wondering if I’d see you tonight,” Match throws out. 

His hands snap down to wrap around Tim’s hips as Kon lurches forward. 

“Uh, uh,” he warns sharply, and massages Tim’s delicate hip bones. Kon’s gaze flicks down to them. “You can stay right there by the window. Unless you want your boyfriend paralysed.” 

Kon shakes with his fury, the look of despair in his eyes delectable. Match runs his palms up Tim’s flanks, shucking his nightshirt up his ribs as Kon stews in silence. 

“Or I could just hand your boyfriend back to you in two separate pieces.” To punctuate, he presses both thumbs down on the fragile rib cage beneath his hands, making Tim’s peaceful breath stutter and Kon twitch. 

Tim mumbles something into his pillow and burrows deeper into the down. Both Match and Kon freeze, breaths held in the seconds it takes Tim to settle. 

Kon takes an exaggerated step back, and Match loosens his grip, lowers his hands back to Tim’s pale thighs, where his shorts have been tugged down to make way for Match’s cock. 

“The Agenda is sending me off on a mission,” Match says, pulling out until only his tip is inside Tim, clenched by that pretty little hole. “Thought I’d get my dick wet one last time before I head out.” 

He pushes in slow, revelling in the deep-throated sigh Tim gives him at the grind. Those dark brows pinch in their sleep, lips parting on an unspoken moan. Match can practically hear Kon’s teeth grinding to dust from here. 

“What do you mean one last time?”  

Tim’s heartbeat flutters. Match can feel his temperature rise between his palms, his arousal making itself known. He’s sure Kon can feel it too, if he focuses hard enough. 

“How many times, Match?” Kon demands, shrill. 

Match tosses him a look of derision. “You really are inferior. That it’s taken you this long to figure it out is an embarrassment. I honestly don’t know how Tim managed to confuse us.” 

Kon’s brows knit above those pathetically earnest eyes. “What did you do to Tim?” 

He doesn’t sound like he actually wants to hear the answer. Match scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Nothing he didn’t want.” 

“Match.”  

“I asked him, can you believe that?” Match says, barking a laugh. He squeezes down on Tim’s hips, a bruise blooming under his thumb. Tim groans in his sleep, shifting fitfully until Match eases off the pressure. “Asked him if he was okay with me fucking him in his sleep. You know how precious the Bats are about their beauty sleep; I wouldn’t want to disturb sweet little Robin. 

“And he said yes.” Match’s grin feels wolfish, the corners of his mouth stretched wide with the breadth of his mirth. Kon’s gaze is darkening more and more by the second. “He thought I was you, of course. But the little slut said yes to this. Unbelievable!” 

Kon lurches in the corner of his vision, muscles coiling, and Match unfurls his TTK. The grunt that Kon gives when his body is pinned in place is music to Match's ears. 

“You really are a disgrace to the gene pool, Experiment 13,” Match scoffs. He can feel Kon pushing back against his resistance, both physically and mentally. He doesn't budge an inch on the floorboards, trapped beneath Match's focus. “That you can't even muster the mental fortitude to save your pretty bird…” 

He fucks into Tim sharply, watching Kon flinch at the little noise Tim makes as he burrows deeper into his pillows. 

“He’s hard, you know,” Match adds casually. He grips Tim’s cock through the sheets, letting Kon see the hard outline of his boyfriend’s shaft, the little wet spot on the fabric growing with the contact. When he strokes upwards, his grip edging into too tight, Tim squirms on the sheets. 

Match swears he sees a flash of red in the depths of Kon’s eyes. “Let go of him.” 

Circling a thumb against the corona of Tim’s cock earns him a high-pitched, breathy whimper that makes Match’s heart skip a beat. “And leave your beau wanting? That’s not very nice of you,” Match chastises with a grin that's all teeth. 

He lets his gaze fall back to Tim where he’s laid out in the sheets, hair feathering in dark waves across his pillows. His chest rises more rapidly now, arousal sharpening his dreams into something ravenous and wet. Match strokes his length and smiles when Tim’s hips hitch around him, falling back onto the cock buried inside him.  

“How could he be hard through this?” Match murmurs, barely audible between two superhumans. “How could he enjoy me fucking him when he’s all soft and pliant? How could he be so eager for my cock?” 

Kon leers forward, fists trembling. It's a wonder he manages to keep his hiss only barely above humanly audible levels. “Match, I’m warning you—” 

“No, I’m warning you, Experiment 13—” 

Their argument is interrupted by the man on the bed waking. 

Tim stirs, blinking awake groggily. His lips quirk when he spots Match, thighs wrapping over his hips half-heartedly. “Kon.” 

“He's here, too,” Match answers, returning Tim's grin. 

The smile takes a moment to drop. It stays suspended on his face like a bird in flight, until gravity reasserts itself. Tim's eyes flick over to Kon standing by the window, and then he jumps up the bed. 

Match is faster. His hand closes on Tim's knee, hard, and yanks him back down flush with his hips. His TTK lands like an anvil across Tim's chest, pinning him to the sheets. 

Tim cries out sharply, biting his lip to muffle any further sound, even as Match squeezes his knee hard enough that he feels the cartilage shift. It peters off into a groan when Match grinds in deep, savouring the twist to Tim’s expression. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Match says, as if Tim needs the reminder. His hands fist in the sheets, a tension rolling through his body, but he doesn’t make another escape attempt. “Casanova here has been so well-behaved. I’d hate to have to break your knee.” Match scoffs. “Or his heart.” 

“Match—” 

Tim shouts when Match pulls back and fucks in swiftly, features scrunching with pain. 

“You sound so pretty when you scream my name,” Match purrs around a laugh, and flicks a look at Kon. “Don’t you think so? Doesn’t my name sound so good in his pretty little mouth?” 

“Please stop,” Tim breathes, and Match’s disparaging look must convince him of his futility. 

Match pitches his voice low when he hums, “It’s nice to hear you say my name for once.” 

Tim goes very still beneath him, but for the rise and fall of his chest. Match can feel the smile growing on his lips, uncageable. 

“You didn’t think this was the first time, did you?” He can see the math ticking over behind Tim’s eyes, trying to tally up exactly how many times Match has done this before. He gives Tim a wink, and drives a gasp out of him with his next thrust in. “You were awake for some of them. Those were my favourites.” 

“Kon,” Tim gasps, eyes squeezing shut as he bites back his vocalisations. His fingernails claw at the sheets, seeking something solid. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Kon croaks. 

Match laughs, and reaches up to wrap a hand over Tim’s shoulder, thumb digging a bruise into his brittle collarbones. In the corner of his eye, Match watches Kon twitch, but he doesn’t rush to intervene. Tim yelps when Match uses the new leverage to deepen his thrusts, driving into the core of him in long unbroken strokes. One of Tim’s heels hooks up against Match’s abdomen, as if he could ever have the strength to force Match off him. 

He can feel himself getting close, his heart pounding between his ears and in his throat. It’s intoxicating, having them both at his whim, wielding this kind of power over them. A special memento for him to carry when he leaves. 

Match rearranges Tim’s legs around his hips, the new angle making Tim arch off the bed when it strikes that sweet spot inside him. Like they’ve been positioned so many times before. 

But for the curl of Tim’s lip and the fire in Kon’s gaze, they could almost be making love. 

“Wanted to give you one last good fuck before I head out, sweetheart,” Match breathes, and smirks at the way Tim’s chest heaves on a swallowed-down sob. “Something to remember me by.” 

It’s with that declaration that he grinds in deep, spilling inside Tim as the man bites back a whimper. Match fucks in a few more times, revelling in the slick squelch, the slap of his skin against Tim’s. Maybe he’ll even leave him the gift of a bruise on the back of his thighs. 

He pulls out slowly, savouring the twitch and clutch of Tim’s abused hole, the drip of cum when he’s free. Match fucks it back into him with one finger, swirling the tip around inside Tim in a slow circle. 

“If you ever find 13 lacking,” he purrs, and feels Tim shiver around him, “call me anytime, Robin.” 

“I hate you,” Tim whispers between gritted teeth. His eyes are like icicles when they slit open. 

Match tucks himself into his jeans, letting Tim’s limbs fall away from his hips as he straightens. There’s a garden of purple thumbprints over his hips, dark as wine in the moonlight. Tim’s chest shudders when he breathes in, the sound wet and hurt when Match turns away. 

Match claps Kon on the shoulder as he passes, jolting the clone out of his stunned reverie. “Enjoy my sloppy seconds.” 

Notes: