Chapter Text
It happens the first time with Tim sprawled out beneath him on the bed. His sweat-slick hair is stuck to his flushed face, soft pants escaping his kiss-bitten lips as Kon’s thrusts meet the rise of his hips in desperate tandem. He looks beautiful, Kon thinks, disheveled and coming apart at the seams like this—and for a moment, Kon almost manages to forget that it’s Robin he’s got underneath him. That moment of delusion, however, vanishes the instant he feels Rob’s nails dig into the space between his shoulder blades, and yeah, it doesn’t hurt, but—
“Conner,” Tim huffs, breathy enough that Kon almost misses the warning in his tone, “Move.”
Kon shudders, trying and failing to hold still for one more second as Tim’s hips roll up and their pelvises meet and oh fuck, he’s clenching around Kon’s dick and it’s all Kon can do to not collapse on top of him. He steadies himself against the headboard with one arm, bracketing Tim’s head with the other. Tim’s hands are trailing up his sides, tracing his biceps and curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, and the whimper barely makes it past Kon’s lips before he’s being yanked down by the hand on his neck and the legs around his waist and Tim’s swallowing his noises greedily.
Tim kisses like the world is ending and he’s made peace with it. He kisses like it’s his first and last breath, like the air in Kon’s lungs is all the oxygen he’ll ever need again. He tastes like salt and sweat, like the strawberry chapstick he’d stolen from Steph and never returned. His breath is warm in Kon’s mouth, which—okay maybe that sounds kinda gross—but it’s the hottest thing ever, kissing Tim like this, because—well, it’s Tim. His lips are chapped from the way he worries them between his teeth when he’s thinking, meticulously planning their next move on the field, and fuck Kon didn’t think he could get any harder—
A frustrated groan from beneath him cuts off his train of thought, and before he’s fully aware of what’s happening, Kon is being thrown off Tim and onto his back on the bed beside where he’d lay. Blinking confusedly up at the ceiling, still lost in thoughts of Tim’s mouth and hot hot hot, he almost misses it when Tim clambers over top of him and sinks back onto his dick in one smooth motion. Kon chokes out a groan, and he’s sure they can hear him in the next state over with how loud he is, but Tim doesn’t even give him a second to adjust to the feeling of oh fuck warm tight shit before he’s moving again, raising himself steadily with his knees before dropping back into Kon’s lap all over again.
Tim’s leaning over him now, arms bracketed around his head as he smirks down at him. A lithe hand wraps around his jaw, and it’s only then that Kon realizes his mouth is hanging open in a silent plea (for what, he doesn’t know yet, but he can think of a few things).
Tim swipes a thumb over his bottom lip, resting in the space between his piercings and hooking behind his teeth.
“You really are too cock-drunk to think, huh baby,” Tim remarks, tilting Kon’s head side to side with the single finger between his lips. “Need me to fuck myself on your dick so you can just sit back and look pretty?”
Kon’s vision is a little spacey, maybe—maybe he’s a little spacey too. He loves it when Tim gets like this, all bossy and in charge and Robin on him.
It really is a good thing that Kon doesn’t really need to breathe, because somewhere between Tim’s grip on his jaw and the heat of their bodies pressing together, he thinks he may have forgotten how to. Tim notices—of course he notices, he’s Robin—and he coos.
“Oh you’re so gone, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Tim’s voice is sickeningly sweet in that almost-but-not-quite patronizing way. He doesn’t let up his motions for a second, pulling Kon’s face closer to his own and pressing the hint of a kiss to Kon’s open mouth. His lips graze along the cut of Kon’s jaw and Kon keens, bucking up to meet Tim’s hips just as he comes back down, and Tim muffles a groan into Kon’s neck.
Kon doesn’t realize that he’s whining, much less why he’s whining at all, until Tim’s hand is back on his jaw and his own are loosely pinned above his head. He can’t move them—doesn’t want to move them, not with Tim holding him so carefully. He writhes half-heartedly, more on principle than anything else, until Tim shushes him quietly.
“None of that, baby. I want you to stay still for me, okay?”
Kon whines, but nods anyway. He has to screw his eyes shut on the next thrust to focus on his breathing properly this time. He opens them almost immediately again at the click of Tim’s tongue.
“Look at me, Conner.”
Tim’s grey eyes are staring intensely into his own, and he’s so close that it takes all his effort not to shut them again immediately.
“Good boy.”
Another whine.
“I’m going to ride you, get myself off on your dick,—and you’re not going to cum until you beg for it, understand?” The words would have seemed cruel to anyone not mere inches from Tim’s face, but his eyes betrayed his own eagerness, pupils blown under his half-lidded gaze. “You just have to lie here and look pretty until then, and you’re doing a very good job of that.”
Kon nods eagerly behind Tim’s hand, and Tim chuckles.
“So good for me, sweetheart,” he groans, pushing himself back up a little to speed up his bounces. “All laid out on your back for me, baby, so pretty—my perfect pillow princess. Such a good girl.”
It’s as though a switch flips somewhere in the back of Kon’s mind, and the words barely have time to register before Kon cums on the spot.