zeegoeshere

I will write about other characters. Someday.

Title: Empty Places
By Zeelee
Summary: Tim knows exactly what he wants, and Kon just likes cars. NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, am poor, don't sue.



“So. This is the Big Bad Batcave.” Kon looks over at him and grins. He’s rocking back and forth on his heels in a way that puts Tim immediately on edge.

“You *have* been here before,” Tim reminds him.

Kon shrugs and looks away, floating idly over to inspect the Bat-computer. “Yeah, but... It was completely empty when I visited that time when the adults had gone missing. I think it makes a real difference that all you Bat-people have been, like, *living* here.”

They don’t *live* here, he doesn’t say. At least, most of them.

Kon’s still talking. “It’s... *cool,* man. I mean, I *know* Batman’s all high-tech and scarily competent—and so are *you,* for that matter—but it’s one thing to know it and another thing to *see* it, like, everywhere.” Kon crouches down in front of one of Batman’s monitors, peering at it.

Tim resists the urge to walk up behind him and... “Really.”

“Yeah. Man, this stuff is even more complicated than all the crap on the *Super-cycle,* and *that* was from another freaking civilization.”

Kon’s nervous energy is almost *palpable,* and Tim considers what to say. He finally decides on nothing, and just waits, settling his cape around him.

Kon stands up and goes back to bouncing on the balls of his feet, although now there’s a tension in his back that practically sends tremors through the air surrounding him. If Tim concentrates, he can almost feel them across the cave.

“Tim, man. How do you... *do* this? This place is fucking *creepy.*”

You probably don’t want to know. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

Kon’s gaze slides over to Jason’s case and then swiftly back again, locking with Tim’s. He raises his eyebrows. “You’re a freak, Tim. You do realize this, right?”

Tim smirks. “I’ve been aware of it for some time now, yes.”

Kon smirks back and opens his mouth to say something, but then his eyes go wide and he’s shooting past Tim so fast that Tim feels his cape flutter.

He knows before he turns around what Kon is so excited about, and grins internally. Of course Kon is kneeling reverently before (one of) the Batmobiles, skating his hand over the surface and making needy noises which Tim isn’t supposed to hear.

“I... dude. How many of these things does your boss *have?*”

He’s not my boss. “I’ve never been entirely sure. Enough.”

Kon shoots him a pained look. “I still cannot *believe* that I didn’t get a chance to see it when you brought one of these to the Tower, man.”

Tim bites down on a smile. “Events conspired against you.”

“Right. ‘Events’ meaning ‘Bart.’”

“It’s not like I *planned* to have him crash it before you could see it.”

Kon rolls his eyes at him. “You let him *drive,* Tim. What did you *think* was going to happen?”

If his hair were still long, Kon would be staring up at him through silky s-curls of hair. Now, Tim can focus on the icy blue clarity of his eyes (much lighter than Superman’s—closer to Luthor’s shade) and the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks. Tim runs his tongue over his lips.

Kon turns away from him and straightens up, leaning over the Batmobile to squint through the front window. “There are *way* too many buttons in there. How do you guys avoid, like, accidentally blowing yourselves up?”

Kon’s t-shirt is getting too small for him, and the black cotton is almost threadbare where it stretches over his shoulder blades. It’s the easiest thing in the world to close the distance between them in a few strides, to pin Kon against the car with his hips and press his face to the back of Kon’s neck and inhale. He can smell rain and the pollution over Gotham on Kon’s skin.

Kon straightens and moans a little. “*Christ,* Tim.”

He’s been thinking about this for days, weeks, months, thinking about what it would be like to spin Kon around, press him up against the smooth black metal and kiss him senseless. Kon makes a strangled *noise* in the back of his throat and Tim takes the opportunity to lick his way further in, tonguing the roof of his mouth and feeling Kon’s teeth dig into his lip.

Kon makes another muffled noise and breaks the kiss, staring at Tim with bewildered eyes and reddish, used-looking lips. “Tim—man, we’re in the *Batcave.*”

Which is the entire point. “Think of it as just another setting.”

Kon swallows, and his adam’s apple bobs up and down. “But—what if *Batman* comes back?”

“He’s on patrol.” Kon’s neck tastes mostly like sweat, and also faintly of shower gel and rain.

“I... dude, I’m *scared* of the Bat. If I fuck his *sidekick* in his... his own *house*...” Tim tries to say ‘I don’t give a fuck’ with everything but words, and Kon’s voice trails off into a gasp.

He feels Kon’s hand clutch at the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. “Do you... spend a lot of time in here?”

Tim smiles against Kon’s skin. “The showers are through the door on our left.”

“Jesus.” Kon’s breathing in hot little pants now, and it makes Tim want to suck all the air out of him.

“I spend a lot of time in front of the computer; we have cameras focused on every vigilante in Gotham and the surrounding area.” He moves lower, biting the fleshy spot where Kon’s neck meets his shoulder. “I work out on the mats. Topless, usually.” Sucks, licks a line down Kon’s collarbone. “I take a shower almost every night after patrol. A long one.”

Kon sucks in a breath and the muscles under Tim’s tongue tense and *flex.* “Do you... jerk off? In there?”

“Sometimes. When I’m thinking about you.” He kisses a line back up Kon’s neck until his lips are pressed to the spot right below Kon’s earlobe. “Sometimes I do it right over there, in that chair, in front of the monitor screen.”

Kon makes a wordless noise and then his hands are clutching Tim’s ass hard enough to bruise. “All right, fine, you *win* you kinky bastard.”

And then there’s the tingly feel of the tactile telekinesis yanking him away from Kon and jerking him around until he’s flat on his back against the Batmobile. Kon bends over him, spreading his legs with one hand and cupping his jaw with another. He’s petting Tim’s thighs absently, almost as an afterthought; what he’s really doing is *studying* him, searching his face like he’s a textbook or a math problem or just something Kon has to figure out.

The shorter haircut makes Kon’s eyes seem so much *bigger.*

“Why *here,* Tim? Even if he doesn’t catch us... he’ll *know.* I mean, I totally understand wanting to piss off your mentor sometimes, but...”

My father and my ex-girlfriend died within a week of each other. “I want you.”

Kon quirks an eyebrow. “That’s not really an answer.”

The petting becomes harder, more vigorous, and Tim shudders. “It’s enough of one.”

Kon purses his lips and looks like he wants to ask more questions, but then he leans down and licks him, swiping his tongue over Tim’s lips like he just has to get a taste. Tim catches him on the second swipe and turns it into a real kiss, slipping his tongue inside his mouth and closing his eyes.

Kon’s hand moves on his thighs and then he’s cupping him through the shorts, and it’s all Tim can do to keep from yelling. Instead, he bites down on Kon’s bottom lip and bucks hard up and into his hand.

Kon whimpers and then Tim’s shorts and tights are being shoved down and away, and he can’t even tell whether that was Kon’s hand or just the TK. He can *feel* Kon, all around him, like something elusive and just on the edge of his vision. (Well, feel the aura, anyway—he doesn’t think it’s ever been established whether the aura is technically a part of Kon or *not.*)

The shorts are down around his thighs and suddenly Tim can feel everything, the Batmobile cold against his back and the cave-air on his dick, and then all he can feel is Kon’s hand wrapped around him.

Huge and strong and *pressing* his hips down against the Batmobile, squeezing him and then jerking hard. Tim feels himself shooting pre-come into his fist, and that just makes Kon jerk him harder.

Kon’s lips slide down his jaw, and then he’s sucking on Tim’s earlobe, making little panting noises against Tim’s skin. “Jesus. Do you know what you look like right now?”

It’s all Tim can do to shake his head.

Kon squeezes him and slows down, running one finger up and down his cock, slowly, luxuriously. “You’re all... *flushed.* And your lips are parted, and you’re all *sweaty* and sprawled against the car...”

Tim groans and his hips buck, and abruptly he feels the tingling sensation of Kon’s TTK all around him, slapping his legs and hips down against the Batmobile and *keeping* him down. His dick twitches almost painfully, and his breath catches in his throat.

“You... like that?” Kon sounds almost *shy,* which is so damn comical that Tim can’t help but laugh, and then gasp when Kon squeezes him.

Kon smirks, and it’s the sexiest fucking thing he’s ever *seen.* Then he feels the TTK grasp him again, prodding his thighs apart, holding him spread against the hood of the car. Kon moans a little and closes his eyes, and then his hand is moving down, touching Tim *there* and Tim needs to buck and move but Kon won’t let him, and that’s just...

Kon circles his hole so fucking *lightly* and Tim leaks more pre-come.

“Fuck, Tim, you-“ and he can feel Kon’s control weakening—the air around him *shudders.* Kon groans and shoves a finger *in,* and that hurts, yes, but in a way that’s absolutely necessary.

Tim squeezes his eyes shut but he can *feel* Kon’s gaze on him, knows what he must look like. It makes him shiver all over, and then he’s just shaking, because Kon’s hand is wrapped around his cock and jacking him *hard,* working his ass at the same rhythm. Tim can’t—he *needs*--

He shouts and the TTK breaks and he’s bucking, fucking, arching and working himself against Kon’s hand, and then he’s just coming, all over his thighs, all over Kon’s forearms and t-shirt.

Kon slides his hand up through the mess on Tim’s abdomen to stroke his chest. He leans down, nuzzling Tim’s cheek.

“Do you have any lube?” He’s so close that his lips brush against Tim’s ear when he speaks.

“Utility belt,” Tim manages to reply.

Kon gently bites his earlobe, and disappears for a second, leaving Tim to stare at the remnants of fireworks behind his eyes. Then he hears a hiss and a wet, *obscene* sound and when he looks up Kon has his own dick in hand, slicking himself and staring at Tim.

Tim swallows, and stares back.

He bites his lip against a hiss when Kon touches him, fingers slick and cold working inside him. He can feel the TTK grasping him, holding him spread and already, he’s getting hard again.

Kon’s fingers reach out, feather-light against his cheek and then his mouth, and Tim darts his tongue out. He can still taste himself on Kon, and it makes him groan and hum around his fingers.

That earns him a hiss and makes Kon push further in to both his mouth and his ass, the TTK pushing his legs even further apart and then wrapping them around Kon’s waist.

The first push of his dick makes Tim bite down *hard* on Kon’s fingers to keep himself from whimpering, and *that* makes Kon yell and shove inside him, and it’s just as painful, just as sudden as it *should* be.

They’ve done this before, but this—this—

Tim rocks his hips up against Kon and grinds his back *hard* against the Batmobile and it’s *everything* he needed. It’s the sight of Kon’s light-colored, sweating skin contrasted against the muted background of cave ceiling, and it’s Kon’s fingers leaving *bruises* on his hip, and it’s Kon ducking his head and concentrating and fucking Tim through it all.

He’s fucking him like he can read his god damn *mind,* like he knows just what this means, fingers in Tim’s mouth and hips riding him and the TTK absolutely *ruthless* on Tim’s legs, grabbing them and hooking them around Kon’s torso.

Every muscle in Tim’s body *screams* and then he’s coming again, splattering hot on Kon’s chest and shoulders (all *over* him) and grinding his teeth against Kon’s fingers.

Kon’s grip on him tightens (he didn’t think that was possible) and he squeezes his eyes shut, grits his teeth and fucks Tim, harder than anything, slamming him against the car and yelling before he comes.

*Inside* him and Tim can’t stop the whimper when Kon pulls out, so slowly, and semen trickles down his legs.

Kon collapses against him, pulling his fingers out of his mouth and pressing a messy kiss to his lips. Kon’s tongue sliding against his teeth is telling him *exactly* how fucked up this is, but he ignores the reproach and hums a little, sucking Kon’s tongue into his mouth and reaching down to cup his ass.

“Mmm,” Kon says when he breaks the kiss. “So, what are the odds of Batman allowing you to take one of these cars out to San Francisco again?”