Work Text:
Tim’s halfway through coding a WayneTech infiltration tracker when there’s a knock on his window.
Not the door.
The window.
Which is twelve floors up.
Tim sighs, sets the laptop aside, and unlatches the glass.
Jason swings in, casual as anything, helmet under one arm, leather jacket damp from the Gotham drizzle.
Tim doesn’t even flinch. “You ever think about just texting?”
Jason shrugs, stalking in like he owns the place. “I figured showing up was faster.”
“You didn’t even know if I was home.”
Jason tosses the helmet on Tim’s coffee table. “I knew.”
Tim arches a brow. “Okay, creepy.”
Jason stands in the middle of the room, shifting his weight. Not pacing, exactly. But close.
Now that’s weird. Jason doesn’t fidget unless something’s seriously bothering him.
Tim narrows his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re vibrating, Jason. Like a stress ball someone shook too hard.”
Jason huffs, rubs a hand through his hair, and blurts, “I need your help.”
Tim stands slowly. “Okay... With what?”
“You can’t laugh. Or tell anyone. Or get weird about it.”
Tim crosses his arms. “You say that like you’re about to ask me to kill someone or remove a body part.”
Jason looks up at the ceiling. “This was a mistake.”
“Jason.” Tim steps forward. “What is it?”
Jason exhales through his nose, sharp and tight. “I’m... not good at sex.”
Tim stares.
Jason won’t meet his eyes. “Not like—no experience. But not enough. Not the right kind. Not the kind that wasn’t twisted up in—death and Lazarus Pit trauma and League conditioning. I don’t even know what I like, really. Just what I tolerated. What got the job done.”
Tim softens, heartbeat stuttering. “Jay...”
Jason shakes his head, pushing past the emotion. “I’ve read things. Watched things. Practised—kinda. But none of it feels real. I want to get good at this. For me. And maybe for... someone else someday. But I don’t want to hurt anyone. Or embarrass myself. Or freeze up when it matters.”
Tim says nothing.
He’s trying very hard not to imagine what “practised” means.
Jason keeps going, like if he stops now, he’ll lose his nerve. “I trust you. You’re precise. You’re honest. You won’t make fun of me. So I figured... You could teach me.”
“Teach you.” Tim’s voice is faint. “Like sex ed, but... live?”
Jason winces. “Don’t say it like that, Jesus.”
Tim fights a grin. “You came to my apartment, climbed through the window, and asked me to be your... what, Jason? Sexual mentor? Carnal coach?”
Jason groans. “I hate you.”
“You trust me,” Tim says, expression shifting. “Enough to ask me for help with something this vulnerable.”
Jason looks up at him then, eyes raw. “Yeah.”
And fuck if Tim doesn’t feel that like a punch to the gut.
He swallows. “Okay.”
Jason blinks. “Okay?”
“I’ll help you. But we do this my way. That means slow. That means safe. You say stop, we stop. You say no, I back off. No judgment, no performance. You feel everything, and if you don’t? We talk about it.”
Jason’s mouth parts like he’s surprised anyone would offer that.
Tim steps into his space and touches his chest. “Lesson one. Consent is about permission. It’s about enthusiasm. Trust. Choice. You don’t owe me anything, and this isn’t a transaction. If at any point you want to back out, you can.”
Jason’s throat works. “And if I don’t?”
“Then,” Tim murmurs, “we start with the basics.”
He reaches up, brushes Jason’s hair from his forehead, then lets his hand fall away.
“Kissing,” he says softly. “We’ll start there.”
Jason raises a brow. “You’re seriously gonna walk me through this like it’s an SAT section?”
“Only if you want a scorecard,” Tim teases.
Jason snorts. “Pretty sure I’ll flunk.”
Tim steps closer. “That’s the good part, Jay. With me? You can fail as many times as you want. I’ll still be here.”
Jason goes still, the kind of still that means something just hit too deep.
And when Tim touches his jaw—light, barely-there—Jason turns his face into the contact like a man who hasn’t been touched gently in years.
“You ready?”
Jason nods.
And Tim leans in.
The kiss itself is soft. No tongue. No grabbing. Just lips.
Tim kisses him once, slow and even, then pulls back, giving Jason space.
Jason’s eyes flutter open.
His pupils are blown wide. His breath catches in his chest like he forgot how lungs work.
Tim’s voice is low, coaxing. “How did that feel?”
Jason blinks at him. “What?”
“The kiss.”
“I—I don’t know,” Jason says, and his voice cracks. “Normal? Weird?”
Tim tips his head. “Bad weird or new weird?”
Jason hesitates. “I didn’t want it to stop. That’s... new.”
Tim gives a small smile. “Good new.”
Jason exhales. “It was just a kiss.”
“Was it?”
Jason stares at him.
And then Tim does something Jason isn’t prepared for.
He steps back.
Just one step—but the air changes instantly.
“I want you to sit with that,” Tim says, quiet. “You don’t need to earn the next one. You don’t need to rush. I want you to feel what your body feels without chasing it down like a threat.”
Jason blinks again. “You’re seriously making me debrief the kiss?”
Tim leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely, watching him. “You asked me to teach you. Lesson one isn’t how to use your tongue. It’s how to tell the difference between wanting something... and being used to taking it.”
Jason goes still.
Tim waits.
After a moment, Jason drops onto the edge of the couch, fingers clasped, gaze on the floor. “It felt like…”
Tim stays quiet.
“It was soft. It felt like I mattered. Like it wasn’t just about what came next.”
“That’s because it wasn’t.”
“I always thought kissing was the boring part. The warm-up. The act one before the real scene.”
“And now?”
Jason finally meets his eyes. “Now I’m wondering if act one was the whole damn play.”
Tim grins, warm and fond and just a little smug. “You’re very cute when you say things like that.”
Jason groans. “Please don’t flirt with me during the emotional processing.”
“Oh no,” Tim says. “That’s exactly when I flirt.”
Jason throws a pillow at him. Tim catches it.
He walks back over, kneels in front of him.
“You’re not a machine, Jason. You’re not a tool for pleasure or pain. You get to have things. Feel things. Crave softness. Demand it.”
Jason swallows thickly. “I don’t even know what I crave.”
Tim’s hands come to rest on Jason’s knees, warm and grounding. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”
“I don’t want to break this.”
“You won’t,” Tim whispers. “You’d have to let me close enough first.”
Jason breathes out, shaky but honest. “Next time... can we go slower?”
Tim’s heart does something painful in the best way.
He nods. “Yeah, Jay. We can go as slow as you need.”
Jason’s voice is barely audible. “Can I stay tonight? Just stay. No more kissing. Just... be here.”
Tim stands, touches Jason’s hair lightly. “Move over.”
They settle on the couch, tangled up under a blanket. Tim leans back. Jason rests his head on Tim’s shoulder.
And for the first time in a long time, Jason doesn’t brace for the fall.
He’s already landed.
Jason shows up again three days later. No helmet this time. No weapons. Just jeans, a Henley, and a tightness in his shoulders he can’t shake.
Tim opens the door, already sensing it.
“You okay?”
Jason walks in without answering, pacing a slow circle around Tim’s kitchen. His hands twitch like they want to grab something or punch someone.
“Jay,” Tim says gently.
Jason stops. “I’ve been thinking about the kiss.”
Tim’s lips twitch. “A lot, I’m guessing.”
Jason shoots him a look. “Not like that.”
“Oh?” Tim steps closer, tilting his head. “Not imagining how my mouth felt on yours? The way I tasted? The way you leaned into it?”
Jason’s cheeks flush, just faintly. “You’re enjoying this.”
Tim shrugs. “Maybe. But I’m also proud of you.”
Jason blinks. “For what?”
“For coming back. For wanting more.”
Jason crosses his arms. “I didn’t say I wanted more.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Tim moves past him into the living room, tugging the couch blanket down and gesturing to the cushions. “Sit.”
Jason eyes him warily. “Lesson Two?”
“Only if you want it.”
A beat. Jason drops onto the couch. “Yeah. I want it.”
Tim sits beside him, knees angled in. Closer than a friend would sit. Close enough that Jason can feel the heat coming off him.
“We’re going to talk about touch,” Tim says softly. “Not just where. But how. And why.”
Jason rolls his eyes. “I think I know the basics.”
“Really?” Tim leans in, voice dropping. “Then why’d you flinch last time I touched your stomach?”
Jason stiffens. “Reflex.”
“Reflex tells you something. Where are you used to being hit? Where are you afraid I’ll go? That’s what we unlearn.”
Jason swallows. “So what? You’re gonna map my body like a training room?”
Tim’s smile is sharp and tender at once. “Exactly that. But I want you to be the one giving instructions. Tell me where to go. Tell me where to stop.”
Jason frowns. “I thought you were the teacher.”
“I am. But in this, your comfort is the lesson.” Tim lifts his hand. “Can I touch your forearm?”
Jason nods.
Tim reaches out and runs his fingertips lightly over Jason’s skin, from wrist to elbow. Goosebumps rise in the wake.
Jason exhales. “That’s... not bad.”
Tim grins. “Not bad?”
“Shut up.”
“Where next?” Tim murmurs.
Jason hesitates. Then, quietly: “Shoulder.”
Tim shifts his hand up, tracing the curve of muscle where Jason’s neck meets his shoulder. He kneads gently, thumb pressing in slow circles.
Jason shudders. “Okay, that’s good.”
“Breathe, Jay,” Tim whispers. “Feel it. You’re allowed to enjoy this.”
Jason closes his eyes. “Most people just grab. Yank. Claw. Or they expect you to do all the work.”
“I’m not most people.”
Jason nods, barely. “Yeah. I know.”
Tim’s hand drifts downward, pauses just above Jason’s ribs. “Here?”
Jason tenses. “Too fast.”
Tim pulls back instantly. “Thank you.”
Jason opens his eyes. “For what?”
“For telling me. That’s trust.”
Jason looks at him for a long time, like he’s searching for something he doesn’t know how to name.
Then, softly: “Can I touch you now?”
Tim’s breath hitches. “Yes.”
Jason reaches out—hesitant at first—and brushes his fingers along Tim’s collarbone, then down the edge of his sternum.
“You’re warm,” he murmurs.
“You make me warm.”
Jason glances up, startled by how intimate that sounds. Tim’s eyes are soft. There’s no mockery. No game.
Only truth.
Jason’s fingers spread across Tim’s chest, hand over his heart. “It’s beating fast.”
“It’s you,” Tim whispers. “You do that to me.”
Jason leans in before he can stop himself.
But Tim holds up a finger. “Not yet.”
Jason blinks. “Why not?”
“Because this isn’t about reward. It’s about building. About knowing what you want before you reach for it.”
Jason groans. “You’re evil.”
Tim chuckles. “I prefer disciplined.”
They sit in silence for a moment, Jason’s hand still on Tim’s chest.
Tim brushes his fingers against the back of Jason’s. “You okay?”
Jason nods. “Yeah. Better than okay.”
Tim smiles. “Then lesson two is complete.”
Jason raises an eyebrow. “So... when’s lesson three?”
Tim’s grin turns wicked. “That depends. You free tomorrow?”
Jason’s sprawled on Tim’s bed, shirtless, breathing a little too fast. His back presses into the sheets like he’s trying not to launch off the mattress, every muscle in his body pulled taut.
Tim sits beside him, fully clothed, calm as ever.
It’s infuriating. And kind of hot.
(Okay. Very hot.)
“I thought this was supposed to be a sex lesson,” Jason says, voice low and cracked.
Tim hums, brushing his fingers down Jason’s side, just barely grazing the skin.
Jason flinches.
“Sex isn’t about friction, Jay,” Tim says, soft but firm. “It’s about control. Tension. The build-up. Wanting something so badly it hurts.”
He pauses, watching Jason’s breath hitch.
“You don’t know how to wait for it.” Tim leans down, lips brushing Jason’s jaw, not quite kissing. “But I’m going to teach you.”
Jason shudders.
Tim’s hands trail over his chest, avoiding the obvious. He grazes collarbones, ghosting touch over sternum and sides, fingers fluttering with maddening restraint.
Jason groans, trying to shift. Tim presses a hand to his abdomen—gentle, but commanding.
“Don’t move.”
Jason freezes. “You’re killing me.”
“No,” Tim murmurs. “I’m showing you what it feels like to be craved.”
Tim leans in and finally kisses him—hot, slow, possessive. It lasts only seconds before he pulls away again.
Jason chases the kiss unconsciously, but Tim tuts. “No. I decide when. You wait.”
Jason’s fists clench the sheets.
Tim smirks. “Colour?”
Jason grits out, “Green.”
Tim kisses the corner of his mouth in reward. “Good.”
His hand drifts lower, just above the waistband of Jason’s sweats. His thumb dips just under, then pulls back.
Jason whines—actually whines—and Tim smiles like he’s won a game Jason didn’t know he was playing.
“I want you desperate,” Tim whispers. “Shaking. Needing it so badly, you beg.”
Jason gasps as Tim traces his fingertips down his inner thigh, never quite touching where Jason aches the most.
“I want to see what happens when you stop trying to control everything. When you let go. When you feel.”
“I am feeling,” Jason hisses. “You smug little—”
Tim bites lightly at his neck, and Jason chokes on the insult.
“I told you,” Tim murmurs, “you’re not in charge here.”
His voice drops. “But you’re doing so well, Jay. So fucking good for me. You’re already shaking, and I haven’t even touched your cock.”
Jason groans and hides his face in his arm. “Fuck. Tim.”
“I know, baby.” Tim’s voice softens. “That’s the point.”
He shifts, finally kneeling between Jason’s legs. Slowly, achingly slowly, he leans in and just brushes his lips over the outline of Jason’s cock through his sweats.
Jason bucks instinctively. “Shit.”
Tim pins his hips with firm hands. “No moving.”
“I can’t—”
“You can,” Tim says firmly. “And you will. You want to learn? Learn this. Learn restraint. Learn patience.”
Jason trembles. “You’re gonna break me.”
Tim kisses his hipbone. “Only if you beg.”
Jason stares at the ceiling, eyes wild. “Please.”
“Not yet,” Tim says, and grins.
He keeps up the torment: gentle strokes over fabric, soft kisses down Jason’s stomach, whispering praise and filth in equal measure.
“You look so good like this. Red-faced and shaking. All mine. Letting me have you like this. Letting me teach you.”
“Please, Tim—” Jason’s voice breaks.
Tim finally slips his hand under the waistband, wraps his fingers around Jason’s cock.
Jason gasps, jerking into the touch.
Tim doesn’t stroke. Just holds. Lets Jason twitch helplessly against his palm.
“Tell me what you want,” Tim says.
“You. Everything. I want—fuck, I don’t know—more.”
Tim finally moves. Slow. Tight. Just enough.
Jason’s legs fall open wider, back arching, every nerve singing.
“Good boy,” Tim says. “Now you’re learning.”
Jason comes undone with Tim’s name on his lips, body tensing under the heat of it, shaking like he’s never felt anything that real before. Not like this. Not safely. Not wanted.
Tim holds him through the whole thing, slow strokes carrying him down from the edge.
When Jason slumps back against the mattress, boneless and wrecked, Tim doesn’t move. Just stays beside him, rubbing circles into his hip with the same hand that had made him fall apart.
Silence settles between them.
Jason doesn’t break it. He’s too wrung out. Too quiet. Too still.
Tim shifts, brushing sweat-damp hair from Jason’s forehead. “Colour?”
Jason’s lips part, and he exhales like he’s been holding the breath for years. “Green. Just… slow.”
Tim nods. “Okay.” He moves carefully, pulling Jason’s sweats back up, tucking him in, then sliding in beside him without touching.
Not until Jason reaches for him—silent, fingers twitching toward Tim’s shirt.
Tim catches the hand and brings it to his chest.
“I didn’t hurt you?” he asks, voice soft.
Jason shakes his head. “You didn’t even really touch me. Not like I thought you would.”
“No,” Tim says. “I chose not to. That’s the point.”
Jason lets out a shaky laugh. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re gorgeous when you’re about to fall apart.” Tim smiles, gently teasing. “Did you like it?”
Jason doesn’t answer right away. He turns his face into Tim’s shoulder, presses his nose into the fabric of Tim’s shirt.
“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” he mumbles. “It was... overwhelming. But not in a bad way.”
Tim’s arms slide around him. “You did really well, Jason.”
Jason huffs. “You keep saying that. Like I passed some test.”
Tim presses a kiss to his hair. “You did. You let go. You trusted me.”
Jason stiffens for half a second. Then relaxes. “It scared me.”
“I know,” Tim whispers. “That’s why I’m proud of you.”
Jason swallows thickly. “I didn’t know how much I needed this.”
Tim’s voice breaks a little. “I did.”
Jason pulls back just enough to look at him. “Yeah?”
“I’ve wanted to hold you for a long time. Not just like this. Like you’re mine.”
Jason’s breath stutters. “You mean that?”
“Yeah,” Tim says softly. “I meant it when I kissed you. I meant it when I made you wait. I meant it every time I told you how good you were.”
Jason searches his face, looking for any sign of mockery or pity. He finds none. Just calm, steady affection.
Then he leans in, and this time, he kisses Tim. Not hungry. Not desperate. Just real.
Warm.
Tim smiles against his lips. “Lesson Four’s going to wreck you.”
Jason snorts. “What the hell was this, then?”
“Foreplay.”
The room is quiet except for the soft hum of Tim’s fan and the distant echo of Gotham traffic. Jason is curled around him now, breathing slow and even, but not asleep.
Tim can feel it in the tension of his hand. The way he keeps fidgeting with the hem of Tim’s shirt, thumb brushing the same spot again and again.
“Say it,” Tim whispers.
Jason startles. “Say what?”
“Whatever’s eating at you.”
Jason sighs, low and rough. “You’re too good at reading me.”
“I’ve been watching you longer than you think.”
Jason is quiet a moment longer, then murmurs, “You didn’t just want to teach me, did you?”
Tim doesn’t answer right away. His fingers tighten slightly where they rest against Jason’s spine.
Jason pulls back just enough to look at him. “Tim.”
Tim exhales slowly, like letting go of something heavy. “No. I didn’t.”
Jason’s heart skips. He swears he hears it. “Then why—?”
Tim meets his gaze. No armour. No sharp wit. Just the truth.
“Because I’ve wanted you for a long time. Not just sex, Jay. You. The way you fight. The way you think. The way you keep showing up, even when you think you shouldn’t. I’ve wanted to reach for you more times than I can count, but I knew you weren’t ready. So I waited.”
Jason is still, like the world’s holding its breath. “You waited for me?”
“I waited until you could ask,” Tim says softly. “Until it was your choice.”
Jason laughs, not because it’s funny—because it hurts. “I came to you like it was a favour. Like I was asking for something shameful.”
Tim cups his face. “And I said yes because I love you. Because I wanted you to feel what I feel every time you walk into a room.”
Jason blinks fast, and Tim catches it—he’s trying not to cry.
“I didn’t think I deserved this,” Jason whispers.
Tim leans in, presses their foreheads together. “You do. You always did.”
Jason swallows. “I’m not good at this.”
“You don’t have to be,” Tim says. “We’re not performing anymore. No lessons. Just... us.”
Jason pulls Tim closer, burying his face in his neck. “I don’t know how to be in love without breaking things.”
Tim wraps his arms around him. “Then we’ll rebuild every time. I’m not scared of breaking. I’m scared of not trying.”
They lie like that for a long time.
Breathing together.
Touching gently.
Learning what it means to stay.
Jason kisses him first.
No build-up, no teasing. Just raw, quiet intent. Like something in him has finally clicked into place.
It’s not desperate. Not rushed. Just real.
Tim melts into it, hands sliding up Jason’s back, slow and steady.
They’re halfway undressed when Jason hesitates. It’s barely a flicker—just a stutter in his hands, a held breath—but Tim notices.
“Hey,” Tim murmurs, reaching up to cradle his cheek. “We don’t have to do anything more. Not tonight. I’m happy just holding you.”
Jason closes his eyes, pressing into the touch. “I want to.”
Tim still doesn’t move. “Yeah?”
Jason nods. “I just... I’ve never done this. Not like this. Not with someone who made it feel like it mattered.”
Tim kisses him, slow and steady. “It does. You do.”
Jason swallows. “I want to feel you. I want to let go. I just need...”
Tim presses their foreheads together. “Let me take care of you.”
They start slow.
Tim eases Jason back against the pillows, taking his time kissing over his chest, his shoulders, the scar above his hip he knows Jason hates. He murmurs between kisses, soft praises and grounding reminders. “You’re safe. You’re beautiful. You’re so good for me.”
Jason’s already flushed, breathing uneven, body shaking just from the slow roll of Tim’s hands over his thighs.
Tim slicks his fingers and moves carefully, watching Jason’s face with every inch he presses in—gentle circles, patient strokes, his free hand gripping Jason’s thigh as he breathes, “That’s it. You’re doing so well. Just breathe.”
Jason gasps, back arching. “Fuck, that feels weird—”
Tim kisses his knee, soothing. “That’s okay. Tell me what’s too much. Tell me when it’s good.”
He works Jason open slowly, with so much care it borders on reverent. He kisses everywhere but where Jason aches, whispering, “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be here. With me.”
Jason shivers, moans deep in his chest. “You’re gonna break me.”
Tim smiles softly, kissing his thigh again. “No, baby. I’m gonna keep you.”
When Tim finally lines up and presses in, it’s slow.
So slow.
One inch at a time, stopping every breath to whisper, “You okay?”
Jason nods, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark.
Tim keeps whispering, voice wrecked with restraint. “You feel so good. So tight, so warm. I want to live inside you.”
Jason laughs—soft, startled. “That’s disgusting.”
Tim grins. “You love it.”
“I really fucking do.”
Tim slides in fully and stays still, kissing Jason’s shoulder, their fingers laced tight.
Jason groans, overwhelmed. “Move. Please—”
Tim obeys. His thrusts are gentle, deep, slow. Just enough to make Jason gasp and arch, his body learning the rhythm as it goes.
Tim doesn’t go faster. He just keeps whispering.
“You’re taking me so well.”
“You’re perfect.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
Jason holds on like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth. “Tim—Tim—I’m close—”
Tim kisses him deep and strokes him, matching the slow roll of his hips.
“Come for me, baby. Let go.”
Jason does—head thrown back, voice wrecked, every part of him trembling from pleasure that feels like safety.
Tim follows a heartbeat later, burying his face in Jason’s neck, gasping, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
After, Tim cleans them up gently, running a warm cloth over Jason’s stomach, brushing sweat from his forehead, and wrapping him in blankets.
Jason doesn’t say anything. Just stares at him, eyes wide, lips parted like he’s still trying to figure out what just happened.
Tim smiles and lies down beside him. “Colour?”
Jason laughs—shaky and real. “Still green. Very, very green.”
Tim kisses his forehead. “Good.”
Jason grabs his hand and doesn’t let go. “You made me feel... loved.”
Tim’s voice is quiet, but certain. “That’s because you are.”
Jason turns toward him, curling close. “So now what?”
Tim smiles. “Now we sleep. And tomorrow you make me terrible toast and pretend you’re not the softest guy in Gotham.”
Jason snorts. “You’re the worst.”
“And you’re mine,” Tim says, kissing his knuckles.
Jason doesn’t argue.
The next morning is quiet, golden sunlight spilling over the sheets, and the smell of someone burning something in the kitchen.
Tim blinks awake to find Jason gone. Then—
“Shit!”
Tim grabs his robe and pads out barefoot to find Jason shirtless, staring in horror at the toaster as smoke wafts out of it.
“Did you... Try to toast a tortilla?” Tim asks, biting back a grin.
“It looked like it would fit,” Jason says, swatting at the smoke alarm with a dishtowel. “That was your dumb gluten-free one anyway.”
Tim crosses his arms. “Are you sabotaging my kitchen to avoid talking about your feelings?”
Jason deadpans. “If I say yes, do I still get coffee?”
Tim walks over, kisses his cheek, and grabs the French press. “Only because you look hot in my kitchen.”
They end up on the couch, Tim curled under Jason’s arm, both of them sipping coffee, toast crumbs on the blanket.
Jason breaks the silence. “This feels... good.”
Tim leans into him. “It is good.”
Jason hesitates. “I still don’t know what I’m doing. Relationship-wise. Life-wise. Us-wise.”
Tim tilts his head. “Then we figure it out together.”
Jason smiles. It’s small, a little crooked, and real.
“You’re really gonna stick with me through the awkward?”
Tim lifts his mug. “To the awkward.”
Jason clinks his mug against Tim’s. “To whatever comes next.”
Jason wakes to sunlight and the stretch-soreness of being thoroughly ruined. His whole body aches in the best possible way—like every muscle has finally relaxed after years of being clenched too tight.
Tim is sitting up beside him, glasses on, hair a sleepy mess, flipping through something on his tablet with a mug in hand like this is normal.
Jason stares.
Tim glances down. “Morning.”
“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met,” Jason says hoarsely.
Tim raises a brow. “Is that because I used your body like a prayer and then made coffee without you?”
Jason flushes. “You can’t say shit like that with glasses on. It’s illegal.”
Tim smirks and leans down, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. “You okay?”
Jason nods. “Better than. I just—” He swallows. “I want more.”
Tim stills. “More?”
Jason meets his eyes. “You were holding back. I could feel it. You were being careful. But I trust you. I want to feel you this time. No soft gloves. No training wheels. I want you rough.”
Tim sets the mug down, slow and deliberate. “Say that again.”
Jason shifts under the sheets. “I want you to fuck me like you own me.”
Something dark and dangerous sparks in Tim’s eyes. “Color?”
“Green,” Jason growls. “So fucking green.”
Tim pushes him onto his stomach, palms splayed over the wide expanse of Jason’s back.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, voice low, tight, already wrecked.
“I will,” Jason promises.
Tim leans in, teeth scraping over his shoulder. “You don’t get soft praise this time. You get filth. You get everything I’ve been holding back.”
Jason moans. “Then take it.”
Tim slicks him quickly but thoroughly, fingers fast and deep, and Jason hisses through his teeth, arching into it.
“You like it when I stretch you open like this?” Tim whispers, biting lightly behind his ear. “Like watching you shake while I work you loose?”
“God, yes,” Jason gasps. “Want you inside—need you—”
Tim doesn’t tease this time.
He lines up, pushes in hard and deep in one smooth stroke. Jason curses loud, fists in the sheets, breath knocked out of him.
“Fuck,” Tim groans. “You take me so well now. Like you were made for it.”
He sets a brutal pace—deep, fast, relentless. His hands grip Jason’s hips tight enough to bruise.
Jason is gone—moaning into the pillows, hips rolling back to meet every thrust, filthy and feral.
“You wanted this,” Tim growls, voice breaking. “You begged for it.”
Jason gasps, “Please don’t stop—”
“I’m not going to.” Tim leans over him, one hand reaching down to stroke Jason in time with every thrust. “You’re gonna come on my cock, just like this. Ruined. Owned. Mine.”
Jason’s thighs tremble. “Fuck, Tim, I—”
Tim bites his shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. “Now. Let me feel it.”
Jason breaks—whole body clenching, breath catching on a hoarse, desperate moan as he comes messily, his back arching.
Tim doesn’t stop. Keeps going, chasing his own orgasm, driving deep and fast and unforgiving, until he groans Jason’s name like a warning and spills deep inside him, hips stuttering.
They collapse in a heap, sticky and panting, sweat-slick and tangled.
Jason’s head spins.
Tim leans in and kisses his cheek, breath hot against his skin. “Color?”
Jason laughs—hoarse, dizzy, and so fucking happy. “Green. Greener than a Lazarus Pit.”
Tim chuckles and pulls him close. “I’m gonna take care of you now.”
“You just took care of me.”
“No,” Tim murmurs. “That was the fun part.”
It starts innocently.
Well—innocent for them.
They’re curled together in bed, naked and lazy, Tim reading something on his phone while Jason draws lazy shapes on his chest with one finger.
Jason’s voice is casual. “I’ve never really done it right.”
Tim glances down. “Done what?”
Jason looks up at him through his lashes. “Oral. On a guy.”
Tim pauses. “You’ve never—”
“I’ve tried. Once. Twice. League stuff. It was mechanical. Quick. Expected.” Jason shrugs, like that explains enough. “I didn’t want it then. But now?”
Tim sets his phone down. “Now?”
Jason shifts, leaning over him, eyes hooded and dark. “I want to learn. I want to go down on you. Properly.”
Tim’s breath hitches. “Jason—”
“Let me. Teach me. I want to make you feel what you made me feel.”
Tim’s voice is barely audible. “Green?”
“Greener than you deserve,” Jason smirks.
Tim laughs shakily. “Okay. Then let’s start with you between my thighs.”
Jason settles between Tim’s legs, looking up once for permission.
Tim cups his cheek. “Take your time. Don’t rush. Use your hands. Let it be intimate.”
Jason nods, his palms sliding up Tim’s thighs, spreading them gently. Tim’s cock is already half-hard, twitching at the attention.
Jason leans in, presses a kiss to Tim’s inner thigh.
Tim’s breath catches.
Jason smirks. “Just warming up.”
“Tease,” Tim murmurs.
Jason kisses again—higher now—then licks a slow stripe up the base of Tim’s cock.
Tim exhales hard, hips twitching.
Jason hums. “Already sensitive?”
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
Jason’s grin is crooked. “Not yet.”
He wraps a hand around the base, tongue teasing along the head, tasting the precome already beading there. He pulls back and asks, “Pressure okay?”
Tim nods, flushed. “A little more. Let me feel it.”
Jason takes him in again, this time deeper—slow, careful, wet. His lips stretch around him, his eyes fluttering as he adjusts to the shape, the weight, the feel of Tim on his tongue.
Tim groans. “That’s it. Fuck, Jason—you look so good like this.”
Jason moans around him, and Tim whimpers.
“Keep doing that,” Tim gasps. “Fuck, the vibration—”
Jason glances up, lips wet, and pulls off with a pop. “You’re so sensitive.”
Tim nods, dazed. “You’re so good at this already.”
Jason’s eyes go heavy. “Then guide me. Tell me what makes you fall apart.”
Tim’s voice goes rough. “Use your tongue more on the underside. Suck harder on the head. Stroke what you can’t take with your hand. And—fuck—look at me when you do.”
Jason obeys.
He sucks deep and slow, swirls his tongue just right, strokes in time with his mouth, and locks eyes with Tim the whole time.
Tim gasps. “Shit, Jason, I’m—I'm not gonna last.”
Jason speeds up, hands steady on Tim’s thighs, sucking him like it’s a promise.
Tim’s back arches. “Jason—fuck—Jason—”
He comes with a choked moan, fingers tangled in Jason’s hair, hips trembling as he spills into his mouth.
Jason swallows without flinching. Licks him clean like he’s starving for it.
When Tim finally collapses back into the pillows, Jason crawls up over him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smirking.
“Okay?” he asks, cocky.
Tim pulls him down into a kiss, deep and messy.
“You just graduated,” Tim breathes against his lips. “With honours.”