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Dick looks miserable, still damp and freshly showered from decontamination, nothing but a pair of low riding sweatpants on his hips that do little to hide the erection plaguing him. He's flushed and breathing hard, back pressed up against the wall like he originally did it to stay away but is now debating how to best transfer the coolness of the stone to his own body.
"Hey," Tim says, low and soothing. He approaches slowly and reaches out to cradle his face in one hand; Dick lets out the most heartbreaking whine as soon as they touch. Tim lifts his other hand to comb Dick's wet bangs back from his forehead, which is already beading with sweat and far too hot. "You with me, N?"
"Barely," Dick rasps. His eyelashes flutter as he presses his face into Tim's palm, hard. His eyebrows furrow like he's in pain. "What's the verdict?"
"The antidote is going to take too long and your heart rate is already too high."
"So?"
"So, we need to bring it down." Tim tugs gently on the ends of Dick's hair. He does his best to ignore how hard his stomach is twisting in on itself, or the way his face wants to flush. "I know I'm probably not your first choice, but no one else will get here in time."
Dick's eyes open wide when he puts the pieces together. "Tim, no. I can't—there's no way I can ask you to do that—"
"It's a good thing you're not then." He forces himself to look him in the eyes, to push all his stupid, boyish nerves down into the pit where they belong alongside his very inappropriate infatuation with the man who most call his brother. "This is what needs to happen."
"I can't," Dick shakes his head, even as the rest of his body gravitates towards Tim. "It's not right. I don't want to hurt you."
And that just can't stand.
Tim takes Dick's face firmly between his hands and closes what little space is still between them. "Dick," he says, so close he can practically feel the heat coming off of Dick's skin in waves, "this is me, entirely sober, telling you that I consent. Whatever your body is telling you it needs, whatever you want to do, it's okay. I promise. And if—" he hesitates, his own chest aching with the words that follow, "—if it's me that's the problem, you have my word that I won't touch you. This is on your terms, as much as it can be."
Use me, he thinks but doesn't say, treat me like an object if you have to, just stop looking at me like I'm breaking your heart when you're the one that's going to be breaking mine.
Dick's hands finally come up to rest on Tim's hips. They're hesitant and soft but Tim feels them like a brand, even through the fabric of his hoodie. They're broad hands, big and long fingered with callouses that have built up over the years. Tim knows from experience that his own are smaller; the thought of them against his skin makes his knees go weak.
"You deserve better," Dick murmurs, even as he moves in closer. His head bows when Tim lifts his chin; like a sunflower turning towards the sun.
"You're the best," he finds himself whispering back.
When their lips meet, there is a moment of softness, so sweet it could cause cavities. Then the contact registers to Dick's pollen-addled brain and he lets out an almost anguished groan. Tim's head spins as their places are traded. He's pushed up against the wall, hips lifted and pinned in place by Dick's own before he can so much as take a breath. His legs wrap around him on instinct as his hands fly to Dick's shoulders to steady himself. He keeps good on his word and doesn't do anything else, though, even as Dick savages his mouth like he's the last pool of water in the desert. Tim doesn't try to fight for control; he lets him take what he needs, body as relaxed as he can make it circumstances considered.
He feels dazed when Dick finally lets him breathe. His mouth aches sweetly beneath the force of their meeting; he's sure if he could see himself he'd be kiss swollen and spit slick. Tim told himself that he would be as impartial as he could; that he would let Dick use him and do his best not to involve himself; but he can't help the way he moans when teeth nip at his jaw and a hand tugs at his hair to get access to his neck. There are marks being sucked into the skin there that will surely be there tomorrow.
Dick rocks his hips forward with a low growl. Tim scrabbles at his bare shoulders, feeling like he's the one that's been drugged.
"Taste so good," Dick mumbles, as he drags his teeth down the arch of Tim's neck, "sound so good, too."
"Dick," he gasps helplessly. "I'm not—we need to get your heart rate down—"
"You're not ready yet," he denies, "told you I don't want to hurt you."
"Use my mouth then," he blurts out, as his head swims under another forceful rock.
Dick stills.
"I can prepare myself while you use my mouth," Tim babbles, "it'll be faster and it'll get your heart rate down."
Dick hoists him up over his shoulder and turns towards the hospital cot Tim's got set up in the corner. He barely gets a chance to register what's happening before he's tossed onto the bed. The rails are all down which means that his head can hang over the foot of it, right in line with Dick's erection. He's still in his sweatpants, the shape of his cock straining against the steadily wetting fabric. Tim bites back a moan and reaches into his sweatshirt for the lube he stashed there.
Dick's hands go down to shove his sweatpants off. His hand trembles as he wraps it around the base of his arousal, hips thrusting at just that pressure alone. He cups Tim's cheek in the other and peers down at him. "Are you sure?"
"It's okay," Tim promises, "take what you need."
He drops his mouth open and scoots further down the bed, to let his head hang free. Dick shifts his hand to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair as he guides himself into Tim's mouth. He shudders and nearly sends Tim gagging when his hips buck out of his control.
"Sorry, sorry," Dick gasps, "this is a bad idea—"
Tim wants to touch him. Wants to push his bangs back and kiss him, soft and sweet and promise that there is no world where Tim ever regrets this. He wants to tell him that this very scenario—minus the pollen—has played in his head more than once before. But he promised he wouldn't make this hard on Dick, wouldn't take advantage.
"You're doing good," Tim says, against the tip of Dick's cock, "take what you need. I'll be okay."
He groans again, like he's been struck and pushes back into his mouth. He's hot and heavy on Tim's tongue. The scent of him surrounds as he focuses on making his body limp save for the hand he worms between his legs to get started on stretching his ass. It's not a good angle, he can't get very deep, but that's not the point. The point is that he's helping Dick, who is trying so very hard not to hurt him even as he makes a sloppy mess of his face.
It's disgusting and inelegant the way drool wets his face and hair. The sounds that come from his throat are obscene and Tim is aware that he's crying involuntary tears as his nose closes up and he struggles to breathe. He thinks he could come like this, in another setting, where he's not aware that Dick is in danger and that Tim is his last choice.
As it is, he does his best to ignore the way his cock weeps as Dick presses deep and spills down his throat however many minutes later. He pulls out still hard and Tim rolls onto his side gasping, spit dripping from his face as his head spins.
There's a voice in his ear, a hand on his back and another in his hair. He lifts a sleeve to clean some of the mess off his face, sniffling as he blinks away another wave of tears.
"I'm okay," he croaks out, voice rubbed sandpaper raw. "You're okay. You were perfect."
He rubs again at his face, now that the world has stopped spinning and his vision is clearing once more. He pulls his hoodie off when he's done, leaving his chest bare.
"Tim," Dick says, when he finally looks up to take in Dick's face, "I made you cry."
"It's an involuntary response. And I liked it."
Dick's eyes widen.
Whoops. He wasn't supposed to say that.
Tim reaches up to put his fingers against the pulse in Dick's neck. It's still too fast, but it's better than before. Dick is still hard, his skin an angry red. Tim forces himself not to touch.
"Do you want to use my mouth again? You technically don't have to fuck me, now that I think about it."
He could take it, he thinks. His jaw is sore and he might lose his voice but it would be worth it to help Dick. It might make it easier on him too, to not have to see that it's Tim he's using.
"No," comes the answer.
"No?" He echoes.
"I was too rough," Dick says, "I don't trust myself like this. I—fuck, you deserve so much better, baby bird, you should be wined and dined—"
"You can buy me dinner after," Tim says instantly.
"—that's not the point—" but Dick is starting to feel the pollen again, he can tell. His breathing is getting faster and he's having a hard time not eying Tim up. The veins in his arms stand out as he struggles not to touch.
"Dick, it's okay." He's said it from the beginning and he'll keep saying it, as many times as he needs to. "Touch me. Do what you need to."
Dick gets a knee up on the bed. He crawls back in between Tim's legs and helps him pull his sweatpants off. He looks like every one of Tim's wet dreams, skin gleaming under a sheen of sweat, hair messy and eyes dark as they flay Tim open like a specimen on a dissection table.
"Promise you won't hate me," Dick pleads, as he lifts Tim's leg to press a kiss to the side of his knee.
"Never," he swears, breathless from the sight alone. He can't help the way he's hard and dripping; he can do a lot of things but he can't be immune to what Dick Grayson does to him.
Dick takes the lube and slicks up his fingers, like he has to make sure Tim wasn't lying. He presses two inside and twists; Tim's leg twitches from where it's hooked over Dick's shoulder. His fingers feel so much bigger. All Tim can think about is the way Dick felt on his tongue and imagine how he'll feel filling his ass.
"Please," he whimpers, when Dick curls his fingers just right. Tim doesn't know if he'll last much longer if he keeps doing that.
"Can't wait anymore," Dick admits, like it pains him. He slicks up his cock and shuffles forward to press the head of himself to Tim's entrance.
"Come on," he urges, spreading his free leg wide in an attempt to get him closer. "Take what you need."
Neither of them is able to savor the way it feels when Dick slides home. Dick can't stay still once he's felt the heated pressure and Tim isn't given a chance to adjust as his hips start snapping. It hurts; he's not fully stretched and he hasn't done this in a while but it's a good kind of hurt. The kind that tells him that he'll feel this when Dick has left him alone once more, lonely and cold. It's the kind that tells him that at least in this moment, he belongs to Dick.
A hand pins his leg to the mattress, keeping him spread even as his cock spills onto his stomach. Tim sobs in the aftermath, toes curling as he's pushed over into overstimulation. Dick doesn't stop, can't stop and it has Tim slowly stirring once more.
The bed is moving under the force of his thrusts but neither of them can bother to care. Dick bends his head to kiss him and Tim can't help the way he tangles a hand in his hair.
"Timmy," Dick gasps out, as he comes once more. His thrusts slow some, but don't stop. "Are you—?"
"Perfect," Tim sobs out, desperate for him not to stop, to never stop, to never leave him again, "so good, Dick—"
His hips stutter, eyes widening in surprise before suddenly he's pushing Tim's leg off his shoulder and yanking him up into his lap. Tim goes willingly, arms flying up around his shoulders as Dick falls back on his haunches and thrusts up into him, hard. Tim cries out at the new angle, cock jerking against their stomachs'.
"Touch yourself," Dick breathes into his ear.
Tim doesn't even think about disobeying.
He's sensitive and every thrust of Dick's hips pushes right up against his prostate. He's wailing in no time, splattering his hand in spend.
Dick catches his wrist to drag his tongue up his palm, though the mess.
Tim shudders at the sight, fingers twitching.
"Does that feel good?" Dick asks, like he needs Tim to say yes, to give him verbal proof that he still wants this.
He would laugh if he didn't think he'd end up sobbing instead. "So good," Tim mumbles into his shoulder. He's getting delirious with it now, body weakening where Dick's only seems to be getting more agitated. He works his hips weakly, more for Dick than for himself.
Dick falls backwards onto the bed and Tim's arms shake as he pushes himself up off Dick's chest to peer down at him. He bites his lip against a whine, so sensitive he can't help the way his hips jerk and his thighs try to close whenever Dick touches his prostate.
"Look at you," Dick breathes. His hands run up Tim's shaking thighs, thumbs following the natural v of Tim's hips to brush against the base of his cock. He's not hard again yet but Tim thinks he could be, given enough time. "You're amazing, Timmy."
Tim sobs. He doesn't know if he can keep moving but he has to. He has to—Dick needs him, the pollen isn't fully out of his system yet—
"Please," Tim whines. He wants to help, he wants to be useful. He wants Dick to stay.
"Shh," he murmurs, even as he pulls Tim off of him and rolls him onto his stomach. "I'm not going anywhere."
He's back inside Tim then, spreading him open and pushing him down against the bed. Tim doesn't have to move like this, just has to take it until Dick is satisfied. He claws at the sheets as the bed starts to move all over again with the force of Dick's thrusts.
He thinks he might be saying words, might be repeating how good Dick is, how perfect. He thinks he blackouts at some point and comes back to himself in Dick's lap, being worked slow and sweet over Dick's arousal. He thinks he's never been fucked so good in his life, that this is most definitely going to ruin him just the way he thought it would and that he will never be able to put the pieces back together again.
It isn't until later, when Tim opens bleary eyes to find himself spread out across Dick's chest with a sheet thrown over them both, body feeling like he's gone a couple rounds with Croc that he remembers there was a reason he was doing this. He lifts a finger to feel out Dick's pulse and settles when it's normal.
Dick is still knocked out, face lax in sleep. He's so beautiful it hurts and Tim is full of him. He can feel it, sticky between his legs and drying uncomfortably. The shower is a couple feet away but he doesn't want to leave.
His legs buckle when he tries to walk. It's as he's considering crawling that a hand slides up his side and over his shoulder to support him.
Tim lifts his head and blinks at Dick, unsure of when he woke or even moved. They walk together to the shower and collapse at the bottom in a tangle of limbs.
"Are you upset?" Tim eventually asks, voice so hoarse he has to whisper.
Dick shoots him an astonished look. "Me?" He repeats. "I should be asking you that."
"You were the one compromised. It's understandable if you feel taken advantage of—"
"You didn't touch me once," Dick interrupts. "I remember your promise. You helped me, made sure I was safe and let me take the pollen out on you. You did your best in a no win scenario."
"That doesn't mean you can't still feel otherwise."
There's silence for a few long moments.
"I don't," Dick finally says. "I don't feel taken advantage of, but I do feel like I took advantage of you."
"Dick—"
"Tim." Those eyes fix him in place and Tim can't find it in himself to try to lie. He's so tired, body pushed to the limit of its endurance. "Why did you let me do that?"
"Because I love you."
They've said the words before but they can both hear the weight behind them now. It's more than a regular bond; it's Tim letting Dick see his heart.
"I would do it again, as many times as it took. Anything to keep you safe." Tim glances away. "I liked it. Not the part where you were drugged but—everything else."
Dick doesn't say anything, but he doesn't push him away either. He looks thoughtful as he brushes Tim's hair back from his face. "You said I could buy you dinner after this."
"Yeah? It's probably more like breakfast right now, though."
"So let me buy you breakfast, then. And lunch and dinner. Let me take care of you."
Tim searches his eyes as Dick cups his face in his hands. "I can't do this casually. I'm—I've been in love with you since I was seven."
"I'm not asking for casual." He leans forward to bump their noses together. A smile spreads across his mouth, like the rising sun. "Let me woo you, sweetheart."
Tim flushes. Something warm and pleased curls down his spine to settle in his belly. "Okay," he says, somewhat shyly.
Dick presses a kiss to his mouth. "Okay," he repeats, "but first, let's get you cleaned up."