Black Rainbows

by dopplegangerrights

Summary:

What,” Tim asked, “they're dangerous?”

Jason glared at Tim. “They're strong enough to knock over furniture and basically have a mind of their own. Yeah, I'd call that dangerous.”

Tim tilted his head, living up to his bird-y reputation. “I don't know,” he said. “They just look curious to me.”

---

Tim gets it into his head that he should help Jason out with his little body transformation problem. He ends up getting more than he bargained for.

Notes:

Warning: I didn't tag this fic with the rape/non-con warning because I don't consider this a rape scene. There is no aggressor/perpetrator, but rather a situation that neither character is initially able to consent to. Partway through, they establish consent and are able to make the best of the situation and have fun, but still, neither is really able to leave. There will definitely be rape/non-con elements, such as guilt and fear, and the word rape is used in narrative. I promise it turns out okay, but whether you're willing to deal with it is up to you.

JayTim Week 2025 Day 4 – Free day

Title – Black Rainbows by ミラクルミュージカル (Miracle Musical)

Thank you to Maudlyn for betaing, and also for encouraging me by going "yay, tentacle porn!" while I was struggling with this one 😂

Chapter 1

Jason tried to relax. He had barely managed to drag himself into his tub and get the water running, his body fighting him the whole way.

At least he was alone, holed up in one of his off-the-record safehouses. He'd felt it coming in time, even if the warning was still far too short. It was such a relief not to have this happen on patrol, or, god forbid, around any other vigilantes (his friends, or, fuck, his family.) The less people who knew about this, saw it, the better.

His muscles were starting to untense, and they seemed to be calming down, too. He was just wishing that he'd left a book somewhere in reach when suddenly the thrashing started back up. He hadn't done anything to agitate them, and they didn't seem to be freaking out, exactly, more… alert. 

Jason strained his ears, trying to hear anything over the sound of splashing, heart rate kicking into high gear. Were those footsteps? Were they inside the apartment?

A hesitant knock came at the bathroom door, and all of Jason stilled at once, the splashing suddenly gone quiet. “Jason?” called a voice, sounding unsure. “Is that you in there? Are you okay?”

Oh fucking christ on a cracker. That was Tim.

Jason had to answer. He had to say something, before Tim got ideas, got worried, tried to come in, saw –

Jason cleared his throat. “What, a man can't take a bath in his own safehouse?”

They were moving again. Not thrashing, more… slithering. Through the water, across the floor, in the air. Straining . Towards the door. Towards Tim. Jason shivered. Fuck that shit.

“Uh, sure,” Tim said. There was a muffled thump, maybe Tim leaning his shoulder against the door. “That's totally allowed. Just not usually when we're planning to stake out a drug op together?”

Shit. Jason had gotten distracted (read: he panicked.) In his defense, he didn't normally make plans with people . But his case, involving some scumbags cutting their product with fentanyl, had overlapped with Tim's investigation into the same, and they were pooling resources about it. If Jason had had his head on straight, just remembered to comm before he took off his gear, or even grabbed his damn phone and cancelled on the kid, he wouldn't be having this problem now.

“Jay?” Tim asked, sounding even more unsure. “Look, I made Babs track your comm frequency. I know you went out, started your rounds, and then booked it here. If you got hurt, I can help.”

“No!” Jason barked, and immediately berated himself, because he knew better than to be that obvious. “I'm fine, I just– I can't go out tonight. Sorry.” He needed a reason, fuck.

“Was someone else here?” Tim said, practically ignoring Jason in his suspicion. “The place is trashed. I know you don't really trust me, but if someone is targeting you–”

Jason, struck by an epiphany, interrupted, “It's the pit!” Tim shut up, and when he seemed to be listening, Jason continued, “It's acting up. I just don't want to freak out on you. I need to be alone for a while, simmer down. Sorry.”

Jason waited a tense few seconds. Finally, Tim said, “Uh huh. That makes sense. You felt yourself getting upset, came here, knocked over some furniture, then drew a bath to calm down. That tracks.”

Fuck. That was not Tim's “I believe you and agree with you” voice. That was Tim's “I'm about to rip your fake-ass narrative wide open” voice.

“I've been wondering,” Tim said, and Jason practically snapped to attention, because that was the signal for a coded message. “Have you had any friends over recently?” (Are you alone?) “Is your TV working?” (Are you safe?)

“No and yes,” Jason practically growled. “I'm telling you, I'm fine –”

“Sure you are, you're just lying to me,” Tim accused. “You have never apologized to me during a pit episode. I know what those sound like, and this isn't it. Sorry, Jay, but I'm coming in.”

“No!” Jason cried out, knowing that he sounded desperate but not caring enough to fix it. He scrabbled at the tub, trying to lift himself, maybe if he could get to the door, fuck, it wasn't even locked–!

The door burst open, and there stood Tim, fully suited up, staff at the ready.

Jason could only stare at him, horrified. The lower half of his body wasn't so still, not when he had been panicked and struggling. They whipped about, frenzied, making the bathwater practically froth around him.

Oh fuck, oh god. Jason covered his face and let himself sink lower into the water.

“Okay,” Tim said, at length. “I'm going to admit, when I came in through the window and heard all the splashing, I thought someone was in here trying to drown you. Or possibly you were drowning someone else. This was not exactly on my radar.”

“This” being the nest of dozens of inky black tentacles that sprouted below Jason's waist, where his legs should be.

Jason peeked through his fingers, feeling ridiculous but unable to make himself act more mature. Apparently Tim had decided they truly were alone, and that the next appropriate course of action was to strip off his mask. He was staring, blue eyes wide.

There was a familiar twinge of discomfort in that. Jason didn't really like other people seeing him shirtless. It was a security risk with civilians, and with people he knew it was just awkward. He had a lot of unusual scars. That obviously wasn't the major source of shame, in this case, but it wasn't irrelevant, either.

As far as his bottom half went, the nakedness was the least of his worries. There currently wasn't any human anatomy there to be ogled at, after all. Just his horrible, twisting appendages.

“So,” Tim said, practically conversational, “what the fuck?”

“If I tell you, will you leave?” Jason didn't whine.

“Maybe,” Tim immediately answered. He took a step forward.

“Don't!” Jason held up a hand, like he could physically stop the vigilante from across the room. “Don't get closer, I have practically no control over these fucking things.” He sighed. “It's a curse. A curse that it would apparently be irresponsibly dangerous to try to break,” he explained, and added in a grumble, “thanks for nothing, Zatanna.” He cleared his throat and continued. “So now, every six months, give or take a few weeks, this happens,” Jason gestured at the affected area with his right hand, his left still covering his face, “and I ride it out for about twelve hours.”

“And, what,” Tim asked, “they're dangerous?”

Jason finally dropped his hand and glared at Tim. “They're strong enough to knock over furniture and basically have a mind of their own. Yeah, I'd call that dangerous.”

Tim tilted his head, living up to his bird-y reputation. “I don’t know,” he said. “They just look curious to me.”

A few were still expressing agitation, tense and twitching erratically, slapping at the bath water, but Tim was right. The rest of them seemed to be pretty damn interested in him, specifically, turned towards him and slowly inching their way in his direction.

“How are you not getting that that's bad? ” Jason asked, distressed and exasperated. “I've never been around someone with them before, I don't know what they'll do.”

“You said you had practically no control over them,” Tim mused, “but they're still a part of you, right?” He took another step forward, and Jason tensed, ready to tell the idiot to back off, but Tim continued before he could. “They seem to be acting like a part of your body, albeit a more reflexive and reactive one.” Another step.

“Stop!” Jason growled. “Just stop it!”

“You're so easy to read like this,” Tim said, and Jason couldn't quite parse his tone. “Look at them, curling defensively.” It was true. The mass of tentacles was flinching, drawing back, sliding over eachother as they bunched together, shiny black surfaces flashing under the bathroom light. “I'm sorry that I'm making you uncomfortable,” Tim told him, “but don't you think you should experiment a little?”

“ Experiment? ” Jason asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah,” Tim said, all level and reasonable. “You said you're just riding it out, not working with them. You accidentally trashed your own safehouse. I bet if you got more comfortable, you could learn better control. And it would be a good idea to get yourself checked out, make sure you're healthy like this.”

“It's a fucked up curse,” Jason argued, not willing to be cowed by replacement Robin pretending this was something normal. “I'm dealing with it fine by ignoring it as much as I can.”

“It's obviously an issue,” Tim tried.

“It doesn't happen often enough to be an issue!” Jason yelled.

Tim stared at him, eyes narrowed, examining him and the once again agitated nest of twitching tendrils. “So, what?” he asked. “You just want to sit in the bath for twelve hours and be miserable?”

“Yep,” Jason answered, popping the p, making sure to project his annoyance at the question.

“That's dumb,” Tim said, and walked out.

Jason sagged into the water, both relieved and strangely disappointed to be alone again. But Tim hadn't closed the bathroom door, and after a moment Jason realized that he wasn't leaving the apartment. Jason could hear him moving around, opening cupboards. “Don't mess with my shit!” he shouted.

“Too late!” Tim called back.

Jason grumbled, but there wasn't much he could do. He really did hate this – hated having his body betray him, hated feeling so helpless, hated even looking at the disgusting things.

It took about ten minutes for Tim to return. The first thing Jason noticed was that he was out of uniform, instead having stolen some of Jason's clothes and changed into a far too large pair of sweats and a t-shirt that drooped over his collar bones. “I sent the files on our drug case to Oracle,” he said, striding into the room. “The Birds of Prey can handle it for now.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Jason demanded, trying to smother his panic. The kid was getting far too close.

Tim dropped his armful of various items on the sink counter and kicked the door shut behind him. “Taking care of your stupid ass. Here, I found your phone, do you want it?” He looked over at Jason again, holding up and displaying said phone.

Instead of responding, Jason asked the question that had been bothering him this whole time. “Why isn't this freaking you out?”

Tim searched his eyes for a moment, then shrugged. “I mean, it's definitely unexpected, but I've been to space, Jason; I've seen weirder shit.”

And then Tim, casual and unconcerned as you please, stepped into reach. He sat down on the toilet, right next to the tub, and held Jason's phone out to him.

Jason didn't take it. He just watched in mute horror as a tentacle, one of the ones that didn't quite fit in the tub and was spilling out onto the floor, slid right up to the kid and wrapped itself around his ankle.

Tim looked down at the tentacle. “Oh, hello there,” he said lightly, like he was at a grocery store and a toddler had tugged on his sleeve.

Tim wasn't wearing any socks, and his ankle was bare under the rolled up cuffs of the too long sweats. Jason's sense of feeling through the tentacles was never quite right, in some ways muted and in others too sensitive. The heat of Tim's skin was like nothing else he'd ever felt, scorching its way down the tendril and straight up Jason's spine.

Jason's voice was hoarse when he said, “You need to go.” He needed Tim to understand. Something bad was going to happen.

“I'm not leaving,” Tim said, firm. “I'm going to help you through this.” He turned and started rummaging through the things he'd brought. “I grabbed you some water bottles and protein bars, a couple of the books you had laying around, and your first aid kit. Not that there's much I can do with it,” he rambled, “but we can at least take your temperature, see if it's relatively normal. I wish you'd go for a real medical examination so we could get your baselines like this, but–”

“Tim!” Jason yelped, high pitched. Tim looked back at him, apparently unconcerned with the tendril winding its way further up his calf under the pants, or with the others getting closer to him.

“It's not hurting me,” Tim assured Jason. “And it's not bothering me, either. Examining them and their behavior is part of what I'm trying to do.”

“I didn't ask you to do that,” Jason said, not sure if he was angry or pleading. “I don't want to be goddamn examined.” What he wanted was to go back in time to when no one had ever seen him like this, to when he didn't know what little Tim (the shortest Robin, now that Damian had hit his growth spurt) felt like under his inhuman touch.

Two more tendrils reached Tim, one sliding over his knee while another wrapped around his wrist. Two more brands of fire leading straight to Jason's core, though one was muted by fabric.

“Huh,” Tim said, turning his hand upwards and wrapping his fingers around the tentacle trailing from his wrist. Jason almost jumped at the sensation. “It's an interesting texture.” He lifted his hand towards his face, ignoring the gentle tug of the appendage. “It's smooth, sort of velvety. Almost reptilian, but I don't see any scales.”

All of the tentacles that could reach Tim were going for him then, some of them straight from the bath and leaving wet streaks on his borrowed clothes. “Stop it,” Jason said weakly. To Tim, for examining him when Jason just told him not to. To his body, for whatever it was trying to do, touching Tim like that. “Get out of here.” As if in protest to his words his tentacles tightened their grips around Tim, yanking him towards Jason. Not hard enough to move him, not yet.

“Jason,” Tim said, and Jason looked up and met his serious gaze. “Stop worrying about me, about what I think and how I'll react. I'm fine. I don't care. I just want to help you.”

“That's so stupid,” Jason croaked. “You're a self sacrificing idiot.”

Tim grinned. “That isn't news.” He looked down at himself, where nearly twenty tentacles were wrapping themselves around his arm and leg, touching his hip, his shoulder. “This isn't exactly a sacrifice, though. I really don't mind.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jason asked.

“Lots of stuff,” Tim answered idly.

Tim's eyes suddenly went wide when the tentacles started to pull him in earnest. They were thin, around the size of a finger at their tips, but they were deceptively strong. Tim yelped, and scrambled for a moment, and ended up seated on the lip of the tub. He was turned slightly, resting more on one leg than the other, still facing towards Jason.

“I'm fine,” Tim reiterated, but he looked stunned. The neck of the shirt had slipped, falling off of one of his shoulders. Jason could see the muscles of his arm – his thin, elegant neck – his pale skin and color stained cheeks. He was so close. Jason was touching him, touching him all over, winding further and further around him and feeling his soft skin and his burning heat, and Jason wanted .

Jason wasn't supposed to want Tim. Not with their relationship, not with their history, not with the way that Tim was still good and still believed in something and Jason was irreparably fucked up.

But tendrils were still sliding around Tim, his hips and thighs and throat, and slipping under his clothes, and Jason thought that maybe neither of them had a choice in the matter anymore.

The thought made him want to scream.

Notes:

Yes, this is what I decided to do with my free day 😂

The second part of this fic is nearly done, and will hopefully be going up later today. The rest still needs some time, and won't be done with until after JayTim week.

I've been pretty mean to Jason this week, haven't I? He keeps getting brainwashed or having his bodily autonomy stolen. I swear, I do it out of love 💔

I'll say I believe in myself and plan to put the teaser on next chapter. (I should be focusing on tomorrow's fic, which isn't ready to post at all, but I want to try and leave the boys in this one on a happier note.) Wish me luck! 🫡

Chapter 2

Tim was doing okay.

He hadn't expected Jason's tentacles to be quite this… curious? Tactile? Affectionate?

Probably not affectionate. Jason still avoided him more often than not.

But it was fine. It actually felt pretty nice, all the little feelers holding him and stroking against him, not that Tim was going to say that.

Jason didn't look at all happy to have Tim suddenly sitting on the edge of his bath. “Can you get out?” he asked, voice tight.

Tim flexed experimentally, trying to see if he could pull away. The tentacles were holding him fast. “Don't think so,” he answered.

Jason leaned forward, looking almost frantic, and grabbed a fistful of the tendrils, trying to pull them off of Tim himself. It wasn't very effective.

“Hey, stop that. I told you, I'm fine, I–”

Tim froze.

The tentacles were still exploring him, and sure, it had been a little awkward, the way they were touching his legs and shoulders and stomach.

But one had just started sliding down the crack of Tim's ass.

Tim heard Jason suck in a gasp.

The way they were all moving so slowly over him suddenly felt different. Sensual. He became hyperaware of the way they were looping over his shoulders and slipping beneath his collar, and climbing up his legs under his pants, and one was curving over his hip and starting to ride the crease down towards his crotch, oh fuck.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Jason was chanting under his breath, looking like he wasn't even aware of it, breathing fast. He was digging his fingers into his tentacles, yanking on them and flinching when he did it, not having any effect.

Tim regained his voice. “Stop that,” he told Jason. “You're hurting yourself. I'm fi–” Tim cut off into an embarrassing whine.

The tendril was pressed up against his hole, blunt tip turned inwards, squirming. Obviously trying to push inside.

The thing wasn't making much headway, not yet, but with its strength, it probably could. Tim felt a spike of real fear for the first time since he'd broken into Jason's bathroom. That sort of dry, forced intrusion was going to hurt.

As if it had heard his thought, the little rubbing tendril became suddenly slick, its burrowing head spreading wetness around Tim's entrance. With just a few more movements, it slipped easily inside.

Tim winced at the unexpected stretch of his sensitive rim at the same time as Jason made a sound like he'd been punched in the gut.

But he didn't stop wrenching at his tentacles, and he didn't stop hyperventilating.

“Jason,” Tim said, ignoring everything that was happening to him – the squirming in his ass, the tentacle that had just reached his crotch and was sliding back and forth over his clothed dick, the one that had wrapped gently around his neck and was inching up his jaw. “You're going to hurt yourself.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jason demanded, sounding as pissed off as he ever did despite his gasped out breaths. “I'd rather cut the damn things off than– than let them make me–” he choked around the words, apparently unable to finish.

Well. Now was not the time to be hurt by that. Tim knew that Jason didn't like him, and that the stupid little crush that he'd been harboring since before he even knew what a crush felt like wasn't going anywhere. But Jason being this disgusted at the idea of touching him still felt a lot like rejection, and Tim never handled rejection all that well.

Then Jason started crying, and all Tim felt was crushing, unbearable guilt.

This was all his fault.

Jason had told him to leave and Tim had ignored him. He hadn't taken Jason's concerns seriously, because when did any of them accept help? The only way to get anything done was to insert yourself where you weren't wanted; it was the vigilante way, and it was how Tim, specifically, had been operating from the day he knocked on the door of Dick's Bludhaven apartment and handed him a file on Batman.

But he'd been adamant that Tim needed to stay away. He'd looked unsettled. He obviously hadn't expected this exact thing to happen, but he'd warned Tim that something could go wrong. Tim wasn't sure if Jason had much sense of feeling through the tentacles, seeing as they were largely autonomous, but even if he didn't, he was now trapped in a sexual situation that he didn't want to be in. That was basically a rape, even if Tim didn't have any control over what was happening, either. Jason gasped on a sob and Tim felt warring sadness and nausea rising up his esophagus.

“Hey, hey,” Tim said. On instinct, he tried to lean forward and reach out to comfort Jason, and was surprised when he actually managed to move. The tentacles apparently had no problem with him coming closer to Jason – he just wasn't allowed to get away. Before he thought better of it, Tim's palm made contact with Jason's face and he rubbed a thumb underneath the other man's eye. Jason's expression was tight, eyes screwed shut as he dealt with the pain of whatever he was thinking and feeling. When Tim touched him, his lids cracked open, wet clumped eyelashes parting over a sliver of brilliant teal, leaning towards green. Jason was looking at him as Tim said, “I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have–”

Leaning forward was a mistake, because it changed a few important angles. Tim choked on his words when the slick appendage up his ass found room to sink deeper and push up against the sweet spot inside. He wasn't aware enough in that moment to be entirely sure if the tentacles wrapped around him tugged at him again, or if he simply lost his balance, but next thing he knew he was tipping diagonally into the bathtub. Jason caught him, hands bracing his upper arms, but Tim had entirely lost his seat, instead finding his hips cushioned by a few tendrils between him and the lip of the tub.

Jason was closer now, holding Tim up right above him, so Tim had a great view when, as the tendril inside of him pressed deeper, he tilted his head back and groaned.

Oh. That – that was worse.

Tim's guilt compacted and multiplied, because if these things were somehow… erogenous, for Jason, then there was a violation occurring that he hadn't even imagined (and also because, despite how awful the situation was, he couldn't help the way his arousal spiked with Jason so close and so beautiful, more intoxicating than any mere sensation could be.)

“Jason?” Tim asked.

Jason just shook his head, a few more tears leaking out from his once again tightly closed eyes.

“I didn't–” Tim gasped, as another tentacle that had slid beneath his waistband started coiling around the base of his now hard dick, then he forged on “–didn't mean for this to happen, I– I'm sorry–”

“Don't,” Jason interrupted, voice low and sounding completely wrecked. “Don't fucking apologize to me while I'm–” his breath hitched. “I'm the fucking monster, here.”

“You're not,” Tim denied, trying to recalibrate with this new information but barely able to think while he was feeling so much . “You're upset– upset for me?” he asked.

Jason opened his eyes and shot Tim a very earnestly disbelieving look, like he couldn't imagine why Tim was confused and honestly thought he might be stupid.

“Don't be,” Tim said. He put his hands on Jason's cheeks, fascinated for a moment by the picture he made, reaching out with his arms wrapped up in twisting black forms, like living bangles. Then he met Jason's eyes and said, with complete confidence, “You could fuck me literally any time you wanted.”

He immediately regretted it. There had to have been a million other, less pathetic things that he could've said.

But he also noted the slight uptick in the movement around his body, and the way that the tendrils wrapped around his thighs tensed, pulling his legs just a little more apart.

“You're not serious,” Jason said, fingers spasming against Tim's biceps.

“I want you,” Tim admitted. He knew that he was flushing deeper with every one of the words that he had never thought he'd say that fell past his lips. “I've always wanted you.

“You're lying to me,” Jason accused, with his eyes blown wide and his breath still hitching. “There's no fucking way that's true.”

“I mean, I thought you were an asshole,” Tim offered. “But I– I still…” I still thought you were attractive. I still wanted you. I still would've let you, if you just asked. That was all Tim had to say. That was what Jason needed to hear from him. “I couldn't stop thinking about you,” he gasped out instead. He could feel Jason everywhere, everywhere, in front of him, behind him, inside of him, his senses completely overwhelmed by the maddeningly slow drag. “I feel like– I feel like you cast this enormous shadow over me, just with your presence, and the only thing I see is you.” Tim let out a bitter laugh and slumped, releasing the tension in his body and just letting himself be held. “That was why it– why it hurt so bad. You were my hero, back then, and I found out you thought I was less than dirt.”

“I didn't,” Jason said abruptly, his grip tightening to almost bruising on Tim's arms. “I didn't think that. I was curious, and– and jealous, and so fucking angry , all the time, but I– even that first time, I thought that it was no wonder you were Robin. It is so fucking obvious you're something special, Tim.”

The way Jason was looking at him was different from anything Tim had ever expected. He was trapped in that gaze, completely, because there was a raw earnestness, a deep need to be believed, pouring out through that expression. Tim was holding it all between his hands, that look that was almost soft and almost pained and so deeply vulnerable, Jason letting down his walls just for this, just for Tim.

Tim pulled the two of them together and kissed him.

Despite everything, it was perfect, just for a moment. The welling up of emotions in Tim’s chest, the feeling of Jason against him, sweet and soft and so good. Then the reality of the situation came crashing down on him. 

Firstly, Jason hadn't asked for that – hadn't given the sort of permissions or confessions that Tim had. He had given Tim one single compliment, which was apparently enough for him to lose all semblance of rationality or self control.

Secondly, God damn did this position suck. Tim had absolutely no leverage, and needed to strain his back and crane his neck just to reach Jason. His enormous stolen shirt was dragging and soaking up bath water. It was ridiculous.

Tim was going to pull back and apologize, but before he could, one of Jason’s hands went from holding his bicep to cradling the back of his neck. Tim didn’t falter or fall at all, though, because tendrils smoothly replaced Jason’s hold, supporting Tim effortlessly and moving in harmony with Jason. Jason tilted his head, angling their lips and deepening their kiss, licking into Tim’s mouth. The touch of his tongue sent sparks of arousal down Tim’s spine.

Tim was very distracted by the wet heat of Jason’s mouth, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice himself being maneuvered. It just wasn’t a priority when Tim was busy sucking on Jason’s tongue and making him moan.

The tentacles moved in tandem now, purposeful. They lifted Tim over the edge of the tub entirely, placing him in the water and letting him straddle Jason’s waist. As they did, another one crept beneath his waistband and pushed itself up against his hole.

Jason pulled back the moment that Tim was seated on top of him. His eyes were wide with surprise, face flushed and lips red.

Tim couldn’t help but laugh a little, elated with the reciprocation and high on endorphins. Then he threw his head back and let out a little gasped sound when the second tentacle pushed inside of him.

“Fuck,” Jason said. “Oh my God.”

Tim grabbed Jason’s shoulders. “Are you going to be okay with this?” he asked, breathless but serious. “I know it’s happening anyway, but– I–”

Jason swallowed visibly, then answered in a hoarse whisper, “Yes. I…” He put his hands on Tim’s waist, in some places fitting his fingers around the black forms already twining around him there, and Tim burned at his touch. “If you’re okay, I’m okay.”

“Fuck yes,” Tim said in response. “I mean, I wish I wasn’t in sopping wet clothes, but otherwise…” The tentacles inside of him squirmed and pressed against his walls while another joined them at his entrance. The one wrapped around his erect dick slid against him without rhythm. They held him so nicely, wanted to touch him so bad. They were much livelier now, active, and it must have something to do with Jason, with the way his fear and reluctance were leaving him. And maybe it was fucked up but Tim loved it, loved that Jason was ready to do this with him, loved that he could just let himself experience this and worry about everything else later. “Fuck,” he groaned, drawing it out, “this is going to be so good.”

Notes:

I did it! Yay! 🥳

Yeah, when it comes, the rest of this is just going to be pure smut. Very excited for that lol. It might end up being one or two more chapters, we'll see.

And here's that teaser for tomorrow's fic!

---

You are a fugitive, but you don't know what you're runnin' away from
She said, "I want to sleep in the city that never wakes up
And revel in nostalgia"
I know I said, " Who wants to sleep in the city that never wakes up?"
But
Dorothy was right though

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 4 of JayTim Week 2025