zeegoeshere

I am bleeding and miserable. Someone should write me porn to cheer me up. Yep yep.

Anyway, just so this post has a *point,* Here's my jbbs fic. I was incredibly unoriginal and predictable, and wrote Tim/Kon smut. *shrug*

Title: Touch, Taste, Feel
Recipient: Jamjar
Characters Used: Tim, Kon
Summary: Friends do each other favors, right? Rated NC-17, takes place after the Sins of Youth storyline in Young Justice, when Kon is depowered.

Thanks to marag for the beta, and to Ang and LC for organizing this whole fabulous thing.



Kon stares at the door to the Young Justice meeting room and wonders if he can just fast-forward past this part to get to the fighting and training and stuff. Because it has been proven, time and time again, that he *sucks* at this sort of thing. And after that whole deal with the Justice League and the magic and everything, it’s probably not the best time to be asking favors. But--

Well, he and Robin are friends, right? And friends *do* things for each other. Like in Hawaii, when Knockout was helping him with his tactile-

Okay, bad example. Really, really bad example. But this won’t be like that, because Robin isn’t going to go evil and turn out to be from Apokolips. Kon is fairly sure that the Super-cycle wouldn’t trust him if he were from Apokolips.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It feels... weird to do it without his tactile telekinesis. It’s not like he couldn’t *feel* things before, he just couldn’t...

Uh. Feel them.

Kon shrugs internally. He doesn’t need to explain this to *himself,* does he? After all, he knows what he means.

And enough with the mindfucks already, he’s here for a *reason.* He pushes the door open and Robin is sitting in a chair in the center of the room, back to him, cape splayed over the back of the chair. Kon’s willing to bet that his hands are steepled, too. How very Bond Villain.

"Yes, Superboy?"

"Y’know, Robin, you don’t have to try to be extra creepy. You’re just perfectly creepy enough when you’re being yourself, thanks."

Robin swivels around to face him, raising an eyebrow behind the mask. "I’ll keep that in mind. Now, you wanted something?"

"I have a name, remember? Kon-el. Kon." Not that he deserves it, not *now,* but...

Robin gives him a *look* and a small, controlled shrug. "Sure, Kon."

Kon rolls his eyes. "Jeez, you’re a weird little freak."

Robin actually smiles at him--*weird*--and stands, crossing his arms under the cape. "I’ll keep that in mind, also. Something you wanted?"

Kon ducks his head and runs his hand through his hair again. (Maybe if he does that enough the stupid S-curl will go away.) "Yeah. I... I wanted to ask a favor." It sounds even more lame coming out of his mouth than it did in his head.

"Okay. And the favor is?" Robin is mocking him by standing there so calmly and patiently. He *has* to be.

"Well, you know I’ve lost my powers, since... yeah. And, you know, I *want* to stay on the team, man, I really *do*-"

"Kon, you’re hyperventilating," Robin says calmly.

"Right, well, yeah. My point is—I’m not useful. I don’t really know how to fight without my powers, and while the flight ring is helpful it doesn’t make up for all the other stuff, you know? I’m pretty much dead weight around here at the moment."

"You’re not thinking of quitting, are you?" Robin steps forward, concern clear in his voice and—for a split-second—on his face. His obvious reaction to the thought of Kon leaving is really surprising, and kind of... nice.

"No, no—I told you, man, I don’t *want* to leave. I mean, I figure that I have this Legion Flight Ring, and if I..." His voice trails off. This is the hard part.

"Yes, Kon?" He’s using the Unbearably Patient Even Though You’re a Moron voice, which is probably not a good sign.

"I need you to train me," he blurts out. What the hell, right? Get it all over with in one sentence. Right. Way to go, Kon.

Robin’s eyebrows shoot upwards behind the mask. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I mean, you’re *good* at this stuff. You kick ass at all that fighting and acrobatics stuff, you’ve got all that Ninja-fu, I mean, you could probably almost beat *me* in a fight when I had my powers, and..." Kon squeezes his eyes shut and ducks his head. Dammit, he *promised* himself he wouldn’t babble. "The point is, without my powers, I need to learn how to get better at physical fighting. I need to learn how to fight like a normal human." He opens his eyes and peers up at Robin. "...Like you."

"You want me to train you," Robin says skeptically. "Kon, you have a hard time just following my orders on the *battlefield*-"

"Hey, that was Match, not me!" Kon protests.

"Regardless. I have little to no experience training anyone, and I doubt you and I would get along very well in that sort of... situation, anyway. You should probably ask someone else."

"There’s no one else I can ask, all right?" Kon snaps. "I mean... look. You’re my teammate, all right? Hell, you’re our leader, and, you know, I’d like to think we’re friends at this point, *Alvin*." Robin gives him a sharp look and Kon blushes a little. "What I mean is, uh, we can trust each other, right? And, you know, I can follow orders, honest. That’s all I *do* at Cadmus, and without my powers-" Kon stops.

Robin gives him another one of those razor-sharp batarang looks. "Kon. You’re more than just your powers."

Kon makes an impatient gesture. "Yeah, yeah. I know. But this isn’t about whatever psychosis-things I might have—and yeah, bird boy, I *know* that I’m fucked up, okay?-- it’s about learning how to not get my *ass* kicked. And, look, I... you’re my best chance, okay?"

Robin frowns. "Isn’t there someone at Cadmus you can ask?"

"Look, if you don’t want to help me out, fine-"

"No, no." Robin holds up a hand. "I’ll do it." He gives Kon one of those rare, smirky little smiles. "But just don’t say I didn’t warn you."

"Seriously?" Robin nods, and Kon grins. "Awesome! I can probably get here an hour early tomorrow, if you want-"

"Actually, I was thinking we could start now," Robin says, walking past him out the door.

Kon blinks. "Um, well, you know, we don’t *have* to start immediately," he says, rushing after Robin. He’d been hoping to have a little longer to get used to the idea of letting Robin kick his ass in the gym.

"Oh no, I think it’s a good idea to get going right now, while we’re not busy," Robin says, smirking over his shoulder, like he knows exactly what Kon was thinking.

Kon glares back. "Fine then, Wonder Boy, let’s get to it."

***

Twenty minutes later and Kon thinks that if he practices these blocking moves any more, he’ll go certifiably insane. Jesus, how hard can it *be?* You stick your arm out, you block the other guy’s punch. (Or you just take it, because hey, you have an impregnable forcefield and not even Superman’s punch is really going to hurt that much. Except that... you don’t.)

Robin has been talking in that calm, even voice of his, the tone that always makes Kon twitch and want to do something, *anything* to surprise him, make him jump, scare some emotion into that creepily calm monotone. And now he’s explaining (in *excruciating* detail) how to block or dodge a low kick, and maybe Robin was right that this was a bad idea, because there’s only so much Kon can take.

"Look, I get it okay?" he bursts out. "You’ve been showing me this stuff for, like, *hours*. I think I know enough to spar now-"

Robin’s foot snakes out of nowhere, locks on his ankle and then he’s flat on his back. And that *hurts*, he can feel it, the cold gym floor against his head and the breath knocked out of him.

Robin is looking down at him, one eyebrow raised behind the mask. "If you really knew this well enough, you would have been able to dodge that kick. You need to know these moves, know them as well as you know your own body, before you can practice, Kon."

And that just—that just makes Kon so *angry,* and he’s lashing out before he can stop himself, tackling Robin around the knees (he’d like to see Wonder Boy dodge that), and then they’re both on the ground, rolling and punching at each other, training forgotten. Robin winds up on top of him (because without his TTK, the little twerp is *stronger* than him), and his teeth are bared in a snarl.

Kon can’t remember Robin’s facial expression ever taking his breath away before, but he supposes there’s a first time for everything.

"Will you cut it *out?*" Robin hisses. "What is your problem?"

Kon bucks up, but Robin doesn’t loosen his grip on him. "Fuck off," Kon snarls.

"You asked for my help, I’m giving it to you," Robin shouts back. His fingers are digging into Kon’s shoulders, and he can feel the texture of the gauntlets through his t-shirt.

"Get *off* me. Jeez, is this how you and Batman train?"

It was a low blow, mentioning Batman, and Robin’s lips turn into a thin, hard line. "Batman has nothing to do with this."

"Yeah, well—look, you’re right, this was a bad idea. Let me up." Kon squrims, but Robin just presses down harder, and jesus, do *all* normal humans have to deal with this much *touch* all the time? He can feel the hard plastic of Robin’s jock through the spandex, Robin’s breath tickling his cheek, his bony hips pressing down against him. Kon’s sweating, and if Robin doesn’t let him up soon, well—he doesn’t know what will happen.

"No. Tell me what’s going *on* with you!"

"What, you mean, besides the obvious? Besides the fact that my girlfriend just died and I’m fucking helpless without my powers?"

Kon looks away. He really wishes he hadn’t said that, because Robin hasn’t said anything, but his grip has loosened and Kon’s willing to bet that now... now he fucking feels *sorry* for Kon.

"You’re anything but helpless," Robin says, and Kon looks back at him in surprise. Robin’s blushing and sitting up and turning away, and hell *no.*

Kon grabs the front of his tunic and pulls, maybe a little too hard because it makes Robin slip a little bit, makes his knees splay out so that all of his weight is on his hips, and those hips are *right* up against Kon’s skin.

"That so?" Kon says and then Robin’s lips are hot and wet against his, and he’s not sure who kissed who.

Robin’s tongue pushes inside his mouth, sliding against his lips and teeth, and Kon has to moan and suck and grind up against Tim’s hips, tightening his hand in Robin’s tunic. His tongue is *everywhere,* flicking against the roof of Kon’s mouth, twining against Kon’s tongue and with every touch he feels his brain die a little more.

The *feeling* of everything: Kon’s been kissed before, but he’s never been so hyper-conscious and aware of the wetness, the heat, the little noises and the fucking texture of Robin’s lips, Robin’s cheek, Robin’s *everything*. He could do this all day, spend so much time just focusing on kissing and those hands sliding underneath his shirt and strong thighs on either side of him, pressing in.

Robin breaks the kiss, panting, and Kon can’t help but kiss him again, again, again, and Robin makes a guttural sound in the back of his throat and shoves his hand down Kon’s pants. His gauntlet is still on, the material cold, and Kon hisses when he touches his dick, whimpers when he strokes him, too hard or maybe not hard enough. He’s gasping into Robin’s mouth; Robin’s hand is driving him, making him arch and twist and buck and he can’t get *enough*.

Robin’s all around him, red kevlar and green spandex and lips sliding across his cheek, but he needs to be closer, he needs—

Skin.

Kon scrabbles frantically at the fastenings on Robin’s tunic and at his utility belt, trying to get his fingers to remember how to operate. Robin moans and helps him with the belt, and then both of their hands are tossing the belt away, shoving the shorts and tights down around his thighs, tugging the jock out of the way.

Kon’s orgasm hits the moment he touches Robin’s dick. He comes shouting and cursing and clinging to Robin like a lifeline, Robin stroking him through it, Robin’s strong hands and strong *presence*, so much stronger than him, and that has nothing to do with powers or lack thereof.

Robin’s grip eventually softens around him, and Kon takes the opportunity to roll them over. The only coherent thought in his head is that he has to taste Robin, feel every part of him while he can because the tongue in his mouth was so good but it could be better, Kon could have it *all.*

He pulls the tights down further and stares at Robin’s dick, fully erect and leaking at the tip, before moaning a little and tasting him, licking off the drops of pre-come and wrapping his lips around the head and sucking.

Robin shouts and bucks and clenches his fingers in Kon’s hair, and as soon as Kon tongues the slit he’s coming. Kon isn’t really ready for the hot burn of semen on his tongue, in his throat, and he chokes at first before swallowing as much as he can.

He sits up slowly, and he’s so damn hyper-aware of the sound of Robin’s breathing, yet he can’t even look him in the eye. Instead he swallows again, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and tries not to think about what Robin’s foreskin felt like against his tongue.

Robin sighs and props himself up on his elbows. "I... well, that training session didn’t really go as planned."

Kon snorts. "Not everything needs to be planned, Wonder Boy."

He’s still not looking up, but he knows that Robin is frowning and sitting up all the way. "Was this just one big way to distract me from talking to you about the powers thing?"

"No? Well, maybe. I don’t fucking know, Rob, okay?" And he didn’t *mean* that to come out as volatile as it did, but, well, it’s been a long couple of weeks.

And, dammit, you’d think a guy would be less persistent about shit after you gave him a blow job, even if the guy *was* trained by the World’s Greatest Detective.

He starts to stand, but Robin grabs his arm and then he’s on the floor again, nose to nose with him.

Robin’s lips look wet and pink and used, and Kon swallows.

"Come an hour early tomorrow," Robin says.