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Awareness slowly trickles in, along with the sound of the most annoying voice in Gotham. It pairs well with the pounding in his head, and Jason groans, briefly opening his eyes.
The bright lights of the medbay make his stomach churn with nausea, and he slams them shut, breathing through his nose and hoping he doesn’t vomit. Oddly enough, it doesn’t help.
“Jason?” Bruce says again.
“What?” Jason groans, rolling over and covering his ears. “Wha’ happen? Who hit me?”
“Don’t you remember?”
Jason tries his best to think. It’s difficult when his head feels so fuzzy, but Jason can recall a flash of light, cruel laughter, fighting to protect his sister, and a distinctly familiar, fanged smile.
“Did we fight a vampire version of Dick?” he asks incredulously, groaning when Bruce nods. “Oh my god. I told you guys not to mess with that stupid machine!”
“Dick bumped into it,” Bruce replies. “It was a complete accident.”
“Ugh.” Jason’s head aches when he tries to remember what else happened. “He called himself the Vampire King, right?”
“Correct.”
“What an asshole,” Jason says, sitting up. He (carefully) glances around the Cave, noting the wreck and ruin. “What happened to King Dickhead?”
“We managed to reverse the machine before the alternate did any permanent damage. He’s gone, and he’ll never come back.”
“Hm.” Jason glances around the Cave. He sees Alfred putting a splint on Cass’s arm while Damian sits beside her, holding a bandage against his neck. Regular Dickhead looks miserable, and he looks as beat up as he probably feels, and Tim’s sitting on one of the beds, eyes shut with his head against the wall. “Tim?”
“Got kicked in the head as the other Dick was leaving,” Bruce says. He shifts on the bed and leans closer, gaze scrutinizing. “What did he say to you?”
“Huh?” Jason frowns.
“When you fought him, he grabbed you and pulled you close. Something he said made you react violently, and while you put up a good fight, he managed to overpower you and knock you out.”
“I don’t…” Jason starts, only to trail off, the memory practically leaping out at him.
(“All I wanted was for one of my brothers to join me,” the other Dick says, and it feels like his gleaming red eyes pierce Jason’s soul. “And since the ones from my universe are all dead, perhaps I can take one of you.” A hum, and then the vampire version of Jason’s big brother deliberately looks over at where Tim guards Bruce at the machine. “Maybe this Timmy will be more willing to stand by my side when the world falls to ruin.”
“You stay the fuck away from him,” Jason snarls, and fights back with more vigor.)
“I don’t remember,” Jason says, steadily holding Bruce’s gaze. He tries not to look at Tim. “I think I got knocked around too hard.”
“Hm.” For a second, it seems like Bruce is going to prod for more answers, but then the curtain swings open, and in stumbles Tim, eyes closed and face pale.
“Hey, careful,” Jason says, ignoring the sharp spike of pain in his head as he slides off the bed. He wraps an arm around Tim’s waist and guides him to a seat, noting Bruce’s departure. Jason makes sure Tim gets settled before sitting beside him, leaning over to rest his two fingers against Tim’s throat.
“No, ‘top,” Tim slurs, weakly pushing his wrists. “M’fine.”
“Yeah, uh-huh,” Jason says flatly. “And I’m the Queen of England.”
“Queen Jason Todd,” Tim mumbles, opening his eyes after Jason taps his cheek. He leans close to scrutinize his pupils, grimacing when he sees one looks bigger than the other. “First of His Name, the Undead, Breaker of Batmobiles, and Mother of Goons.”
Jason snorts, sweeping some of Tim’s hair away from his face. “I resent that,” he says, smiling when Tim’s lips twitch. “First of all, I’ve never broken a Batmobile in my life—”
“Ha.”
“And second of all, you have a concussion.”
“Maybe you have a concussion.”
“Probably,” Jason says. The throbbing in his head has lessened, but it’s still there. His throat aches, too.
Tim sighs and tips his head back, eyes shut. Jason’s gaze is drawn to the pale column of his throat. He hears a heartbeat in his ears that matches the rapid pulse beneath his fingertips. Jason swallows around the dryness in his throat. He needs a drink.
And his gums itch.
The moment gets broken when footsteps near them. Jason quickly pulls away and looks up to see Bruce looming above them, casting a shadow of protection that, somehow, still makes Jason relax despite the bad blood.
“All good?” Bruce asks, voice quiet.
Tim hums and cracks one eye open. Even from here, Jason can see it’s still dilated oddly. “You’re tall.”
Bruce chuckles. “So I’ve been told,” he says. He lifts a hand and drops it onto Tim’s head, stroking a thumb through his hair. Tim leans into it like the touch-starved kitten that he is, a languid smile stretching across his face.
“Don’t strain yourself,” Bruce chides. “We all have to take it easy.”
“You too?” Tim asks.
“Yes,” Bruce says with a sigh. “Me too.”
“Good.”
Bruce glances at him next, and Jason doesn’t know how he feels about the intensity of the man’s stare. “Take care of him,” he says.
“With my life,” Jason promises and thinks he catches a hint of a smile on Bruce’s face before the man leaves. He then turns to Tim, lurching out of his seat when he sees Tim struggling to take off his suit, gloves already off. “Hey, let me do that.”
“You don’t even know all the traps,” Tim grumbles.
“I do,” Jason says flatly. He winces when one of Tim’s batarangs falls out of a secret pocket and clatters to the ground. The sound seems so much louder, for some reason. “You showed them to me.”
“Oops,” Tim mumbles, holding up a hand. Jason inhales sharply when he sees several beads of blood welling up in Tim’s fresh cut. It’s bright red even beneath the lights of the Cave, and Jason swears he hears his heartbeat in his ears. “Sorry.”
Jason snorts as he grabs their medkit, shoving Tim back into the chair. “Are you apologizing for bleeding?” he asks and immediately grimaces. “Fuck my life. Pretend you never heard me say that.”
Tim laughs.
It’s not one of those small, huffs of laughter he lets out as Red Robin, nor is it the reserved chuckle he releases around the family. No, it’s loud and bright, silencing the rest of the conversation in the Cave. And this close, Jason can see the delight blossom on Tim’s face, he can see the way Tim’s eyes crease at the corners, cheeks dimpling as the sound tapers off into a short burst of giggles.
Jason keeps staring, feeling overwhelmed.
His crush on the other man is known to no one but himself and Roy Harper (who managed to dig the secret out of him, quite literally, when Jason was delirious on weird space painkillers while the older man stitched his side), and moments like these make it awfully hard to be normal about it.
“You’re funny,” Tim says when his laughter dies out, lips curled into an amused smile. It makes Jason’s stomach flutter.
The rest of the noise returns, and Jason leans forward to clean the blood off Tim’s finger with a wet wipe. Then, he meticulously places a bandaid around the small cut, making sure it’s not too tight as Tim hates when things constrict his fingers.
“There,” he says quietly, glancing at Tim. “Good as new.”
Tim’s smile widens. “Thanks, Jay,” he says, sounding rather sweet. And Jason so badly wants to believe it’s something other than the concussion when Tim leans over to kiss his cheek. “I’m gonna go hang out with Dickie now, okay? Someone needs to remind him it’s not his fault.”
“Yeah,” Jason says, dazed. “You do that.”
He does stand up when Tim wobbles, guiding him to the curtains. Tim squeezes his hand before departing, leaving Jason along in their small medbay. He stares after Tim, watching as he wraps his arms around Dick, before looking down at his hand, transfixed by the smear of red across his skin.
The smell of Tim’s blood seems to flood the Cave, and he can’t tear his gaze away from the sight. Jason swallows reflexively, throat dry and scratchy, and looks around discreetly. There’s no one around to see, so Jason brings his thumb up to his mouth and—
Even though it’s only one drop, the taste explodes on his tongue. It’s sweet and rich, and it carries a hint of something sharp , a tangy aftertaste that leaves Jason wanting more. The ambrosia travels through him, rejuvenating, and his gums start to itch yet again, stomach growling only seconds later. It’s better than any meal he’s ever had, Alfred’s family dinners included, which tips him off.
“Ah,” Jason says to himself. He steps toward the mirror nearby, and all he sees is his red-eyed reflection. “I see.”
He’s a fucking vampire.
🧛 🦇
(In flashes, he remembers getting his shit rocked even with his family at his side. He remembers the alternate, evil Dick knocking the rest away before pinning him to the ground, fangs elongating with his grin.
“I suppose you’ll do,” other!Dick says. Something drips onto Jason’s lip, and he’s gone.)
🧛 🦇
Besides the need for blood, nothing else changes.
Sure, Jason heals faster (when fed), can see in the dark, doesn’t need to breathe as often, and has a fatally slow heartbeat, but it’s honestly not so different from being human.
It helps that there’s a lack of sun in Gotham, and all he needs is a fresh layer of sunscreen before going out in the day to survive. His sudden obsession with the product does lead to some inquiries from a nosy big brother, so Jason decides to loudly rant about the importance of protection against UV rays when he’s standing near Alfred and nearly dances around in joy when Alfred makes it mandatory for them to use copious amounts of sunscreen.
(“There’s something different about you,” Tim comments one night during patrol. He switched the cowl out for his bird-like domino mask again. Jason’s supposed to be watching Cobblepot’s men in the warehouse nearby, but he keeps getting distracted by the sight of Tim’s hair curling nicely around his face. It’s so long. Jason wants to run his fingers through it. “Jason?”
“Hm?” Jason says, suddenly glad his helmet hides his blush. Even though he’s dead, the blood he ingested before patrol means he’s having some human reactions. “What do you mean?”
Tim sets his tablet down and places a hand on Jason’s knee, which makes Jason twitch (he ignores how he twitches elsewhere, too). “I don’t know how to explain it,” he says, the white lenses of his mask closing when he shakes his head. “You’re just… different.”
“In a good way, I hope,” Jason says, amused, but also worried.
“Hm.” Tim stares at him for a moment longer before his lips twitch. He removes his hand from Jason’s person, and Jason wishes the touch lasted longer. God, he’s so screwed. “I guess we’ll have to see.”)
No one else seems to notice he’s not classified as a member of the undead (again?). Jason isn’t trying to make it obvious, but one would think with a family as paranoid as theirs, they’d pick up on something.
(Jason considers making it obvious to see if the others will figure it out, while the worst parts of him want to taunt his family (Bruce and Dick most of all) about how they didn’t even notice how he died again.)
So, of course, it all goes to shit when the smartest of their flock confronts him.
🧛 🦇
Jason walks into his apartment and stops, ears picking up the sound of another heartbeat.
He slowly hangs up his keys and goes through the motions of removing his jacket and taking off his boots, not wanting to alert the intruder that he knows about their presence. Jason eyes some of his traps, wondering why they didn’t go off, and groans when he walks into the living room to see Tim Drake sitting on his loveseat in the middle of his room.
“What?” he says despairingly. “Why are you here?”
“I know your secret,” Tim says, looking particularly evil as he crosses his legs and steeples his fingers. Jason wonders if he could take over the world with this type of behavior.
Probably.
(And Jason would absolutely drop to his knees to bow before his new overlord.)
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jason attempts, crossing his arms and glancing around the room. “Why are you here? Did you need something? Do you have brain damage from your recent concussion?”
“We all have a little brain damage from our concussions,” Tim says dismissively, and Jason dips his head, conceding his point. “No, I know you know what I’m talking about, Jason Peter Todd.”
“Don’t full-name me,” Jason complains, gut twisting anxiously.
Tim narrows his eyes, and then his lips stretch into one of those playfully coy smirks that never fails to make Jason’s heart race. Even now, despite his undead status, it thuds in his chest.
“You’re impossibly fast,” Tim says in a voice filled with delight while dread seeps into every cell of Jason’s body. “And strong.”
“No,” Jason whispers.
“Your skin is pale white and ice cold.” Tim slides off the loveseat and moves closer to Jason, his lashes lowered. The act of demurity is lost when Jason sees his shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. “Your eyes change color.”
“Please,” Jason says as he steps away from his tormentor. Unfortunately, Tim follows the movement until Jason’s back hits the wall, leaving him trapped.
“And sometimes you speak like you’re from a different time.”
“I’m begging you.”
“You never eat or drink anything…”
“I’ll get down on my hands and knees if I have to, Tim.”
“You don’t go out in the sunlight.”
“Okay,” Jason says, poking a finger against Tim’s chest. “That’s a lie and you know it! We went out to get chili dogs the other day.”
“Yeah,” Tim says, looking unamused. “In Gotham, where the sun only shines four days out of the year.” He smacks Jason’s hand away and steps further into Jason’s space, and Jason tries not to inhale his scent. Fuck. He’s fucked. “How old are you?”
“You know how old I am,” Jason complains.
“And how long have you been twenty-four?” Now, Tim’s grinning as he stares up at Jason expectantly.
Jason releases a long-suffering sigh and tips his head back to stare up at the ceiling. He prays to a God he doesn’t believe in for as much patience as They can deliver before he grudgingly says, “A while.”
Tim lights up, his smirk shifting into a smile, solid and real. His cheeks slowly turn pink, as they tend to do whenever he’s particularly pleased with something, and Jason swallows reflexively when his scent gets sweeter, drawing him into Tim’s orbit.
“Okay,” Tim says, wetting his lips. Jason follows the movement, fangs threatening to come out. “I know what you are.”
Jason sighs. Again.
“This isn’t in the book,” he points out, but Tim says nothing. He merely stares at Jason and god, he’s so pretty. Unfortunately, Jason has always been weak for pretty things, so he rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbles, completely dead (ha!) inside when he replies, “Say it. Out loud. Say it.”
“Vampire,” Tim says in a tremulous whisper like he really is Bella Swan in this batshit scenario, eyes wide and doe-like.
And that does things to Jason. Some part of his brain, all instinct, and a little feral, likes seeing Tim this way. His hands clench at his sides, claws digging into the meat of his palms while his fangs slide out. There’s a prickling sensation behind his eyes, and he knows they must be glowing red.
“Are you afraid?” Jason asks quietly, a little too honest.
All the mirth leaves Tim’s face as he continues to stare at Jason. Then, determination fills his eyes when he says, fiercely, “Never.”
“You should be,” Jason says, but he can’t stop the feeling of relief that floods through him after hearing Tim’s response. He tries not to let it show.
Even though Tim’s not afraid, Jason won’t be anything but a monster.
“I’m not,” Tim insists. “I won’t be, Jason.” And he places a hand on Jason’s wrist, rubbing a thumb over the spot where his pulse still beats—slower than usual, but still there. “You won’t hurt me.”
The simple touch soothes him more than he expected, but Jason can’t stop thinking about the heat of Tim’s body. If he focuses, Jason can hear the pumping of his blood. “You don’t know that,” he replies, even though he already knows that hurting Tim isn’t an option. The thought of doing so is enough to turn his stomach.
“I trust you,” Tim says.
And Jason… unwinds, the tension dropping away. “Okay,” he murmurs, briefly leaning down to bump their heads together. Tim hums at the motion, but he does not move away. “Okay, Tim.”
🧛 🦇
“So, like,” Tim says as he hangs upside down off Jason’s couch, body twisted in a way that can’t be comfortable. “How’d it happen?”
Jason stares at him, wrinkling his nose. “You’ve been hanging out with Dick too much,” he complains. “Sit like a normal person!”
Tim grins wickedly. “Dick taught me this position,” he says. “And lots of others, too.” He abruptly turns. Jason winces when he hears something crack, and he tries not to look at Tim when he hears the man make a breathless sound. “Damn. That one was good.”
“How often does Dick train you?” Jason asks, drumming his fingers against the arm of his lounge chair.
“Oh, whenever we’re free,” Tim says, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rides up a little, and Jason tries so hard not to glance at the sliver of skin. He fails. “Dick likes to make sure I’m flexible. You know how he gets.” Tim frowns, shifting until he’s lying across the couch on his stomach and facing Jason. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Um.” Jason sighs. “It was when the vampire version of Dick dropped by. He knocked me out, remember? But… He did something to me before it happened.”
“Did something?” Tim parrots, sounding confused. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” Jason says ruefully, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. If he concentrates, he can hear the flutter of Tim’s heart. “But whatever he did changed me, and I don’t think there’s no coming back from it.”
🧛 🦇
To Jason’s surprise, things stay the same between himself and Tim.
He does promise not to tell anyone, and Jason trusts him to keep it. Out of all of them, Tim is probably the best when it comes to keeping promises, although it sometimes comes at the cost of his physical (and probably mental) health.
Tim also starts texting him more, which pleases Jason, but each vampire-related meme makes him want to throw himself off Wayne Tower. When he says as much, Tim replies with several laughing emojis and a photoshopped picture of his face on Edward Cullen’s body.
Jason: That’s not fair.
Jason: I don’t sparkle.
He immediately gets a response, even though Tim’s supposed to be in a meeting with some of WE’s shareholders. Jason avoids staring at Tim’s contact for too long—he’s deeply embarrassed about it, but can’t bring himself to change it.
Tim💗: how am i supposed to know?
Tim💗: i need you to take me into a forest and show yourself in the sunlightJason: We have no forests.
Tim💗: what about the 1 behind the manor
Jason: That hardly counts.
Tim💗: idk i’ve gotten lost in there a couple of times
Tim💗: plsssssss
Tim💗: show me your sparkling abs!!!Jason: They don’t sparkle!!!!
Tim💗: so you’ve checked? 🧐
Jason: You’re such an annoying piece of shit sometimes.
He watches as Tim’s bubbles pop up, lingering for about a minute before abruptly disappearing. Jason ignores the way his stomach twists with anxiety, refocusing on some of his paperwork.
Unfortunately, recently turning into a vampire doesn’t excuse him from his crime lord duties.
Jason gets deep into it, checking over all the information provided to him to make sure it’s all correct. He considers the proposal, matching it to the funds he has allocated for similar purposes to decide if he should allow it to happen. While doing so, his phone chimes, and Jason glances at the screen to see messages from Tim.
Tim💗: yeah, but i’m YOUR annoying piece of shit
Tim💗: 😊
“God fucking dammit,” Jason whispers, dropping his head onto the desk. The pen in his hand snaps, and Jason can feel ink spilling over his skin, possibly dribbling onto his documents. He doesn’t care, though, not when the warm feeling in his chest seems to flood his entire being, chasing the cold away until he’s full of affection. “What are you doing to me?”
Jason lifts his head to stare at his phone, picking it up after a moment of contemplation and quickly typing out a message. His thumb hovers over the send button for several long seconds before he finally presses down. He then locks his phone and tosses it somewhere behind him, shoulders hunched as he starts cleaning the mess off his desk.
Jason: Yeah. You are.
Jason: Don’t forget it.
🧛 🦇
The glint of silver catches his attention, and Jason doesn’t even have time to call out to Tim, so he quickly dives in front of the man, hissing in surprise rather than pain when the bullet hits, somehow managing to get past the seams between his armor to reach him.
Nightwing chases after the shooter, and Jason lets Tim drag him off to a corner where they can be concealed in shadow. Every step feels heavier, and he’s worried he might drag Tim down to the ground. Somehow, they make it to the wall, and Jason hisses when his wound throbs with pain as he sits. He barely moves when Tim starts removing pieces of his armor, nor does he complain when Tim cuts his undersuit open.
“Don’ worry,” he slurs out. “Heal fast.”
“How long does it usually take?”
Jason shrugs, head spinning at the simple action. “Shoul’ be quick,” he replies. “You can check.”
Time blurs as he feels Tim tear his undersuit. He doesn’t know how long it takes for Tim to make his assessment—a minute or an hour—but eventually, Tim hisses.
“You’re not healing,” Tim says, sounding worried. His hand is burning against Jason’s cold skin, and he can’t help but lean into the touch. Let Tim’s fire set him aflame. Jason would welcome it.
“Nah,” Jason says. His tongue feels thick in his mouth, and his vision keeps blurring. There’s an itch in his throat, in his gums, and Jason knows it means that he’s— “Thirsty.”
“You’re… thirsty?” It sounds like Tim’s close to figuring something out. Jason loves it when that happens because Tim’s face always lights up when he finally pieces everything together, delighted over solving the puzzle. “Will drinking blood help you heal faster?”
“Mhm.”
“Fresh blood?”
“Yep.”
Tim exhales shakily. “Alright,” he says after a beat, and suddenly, there’s an exposed arm in Jason’s face. “Take it from me, then.”
It takes a moment for Jason’s laggy brain to catch up. “No,” he chokes out, trying to push it away. It doesn’t budge. He’s too weak to do it. “Can’t…”
“Bite me,” Tim commands, and it sends a shiver down Jason’s spine. “Or I’ll use my batarang, and who knows where that’s been?”
Jason groans and sits up, gently grabbing Tim’s wrist. Saliva pools in his mouth as he listens to the fast beat of Tim’s heart, and he dips his head to swipe his tongue across Tim’s bare skin, enjoying the sound of Tim’s hitched breath. His gums tingle as his fangs slide out, and Jason finally sinks his teeth into Tim’s wrist.
Rich and hot, Tim’s blood spills into his mouth. Again, Jason’s overwhelmed by the sweet taste—only this time, there’s more for him. He clutches Tim tighter, eyes slipping shut as the warmth of his drink quickly overtakes the cold in his body. The longer he drinks, the better he feels, and it’s with great reluctance that he pulls away.
“Thank you,” he rasps out, dragging his tongue over the two open wounds to lick up remnants of Tim’s blood. Jason watches, surprised, as the bite closes before his very eyes, and figures there must be some sort of healing thing going on with his saliva.
Another note to add to his file.
“You okay?” Jason asks when Tim says nothing. He glances at the man and blinks at the sight of him.
Tim’s eyes look glassy, but he doesn’t look as pale as some people after donating blood. There’s a flush to his cheeks, which only sweetens his scent. “Ah,” Tim says. “I… I think you release a chemical that leaves me feeling relaxed.”
“Oh.” Jason ducks his head. “Sorry.”
“S’okay. I offered, and you needed it.”
Tim stands. Now that some time has passed, he seems a little woozy, and he even wobbles in place. Jason follows, faster than he expected, to grip his elbow and steady him. “I’m fine,” Tim says, but his words slur together.
“Well, let me help you for my own sake.”
“Fine…”
🧛 🦇
After checking in with Babs to call it a night, and waving off her concern, Jason helps Tim to his nearest safehouse. When they arrive, he provides some snacks and orange juice, guilt festering in his chest as Tim’s hands shake.
“Sorry,” he says.
Tim sighs. “For the fourteenth time,” he says, sounding exasperated. “It’s fine, Jason! I wanted to help you!” He extends a foot and kicks him. Jason doesn’t mention how he misses. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Jason says as he watches Tim drink more juice. “I’m all healed, thanks to you.”
Some of the juice slips down Tim’s chin. Jason instinctively reaches over to wipe it away, his thumb brushes over the edge of Tim’s lips. He swallows when he hears the hitch of Tim’s breath, similar to how he sounded when Jason licked his wrist, and again, Tim smells sweeter.
Enhanced senses have never been more painful.
“You don’t have to take care of me,” Tim says in a low voice. “I’m fine.”
“Maybe I want to,” Jason says.
Their eyes meet, and Jason finds himself captivated by them, moreso than usual.
Right now, they’re not hidden behind a domino mask. Tim removed it the moment he stepped into Jason’s apartment. The dark kohl smeared around his eyes (additional protection, as Tim has stated before) makes them look brighter— two of the fairest stars in all the heaven.
(Jason bites his tongue so he doesn’t say it out loud.)
“Stay the night?” he asks, tipping his head toward the bedroom.
“I’m fine, Jay.”
“I know. But again, it’s for my sake. You’re the first actual person I drank from, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”
Tim blinks owlishly. “Alright,” he says, tipping his head back when he drinks the rest of his juice. Jason tries not to focus on the gulping sounds he makes.
After getting more food in Tim and placing all the dishes in the sink, Jason guides Tim to his room, where he places a change of clothes on the bed. He goes to leave, stopping and turning back to the man when Tim calls his name.
“Are you sure?” Tim asks, frowning. “I mean, it’s your bed…”
“I don’t sleep as much anymore,” Jason tells him, offering a smile. “I’ll be fine on the couch.”
Tim stays the night, and he’s still there when Jason wakes up.
Since he’s up so early, Jason decides to make breakfast since he knows Tim rarely eats anything in the mornings. Tim trails out of the room, and Jason tries not to stare at his rumpled form, some part of his brain going a little wild over the idea of Tim wearing his clothes.
Mine, mine, mine, mine, it chants, and Jason struggles to silence it.
“Here,” Jason says when Tim sits at his tiny table, sliding a mug into his hands. “It’ll wake you up.”
“S’it coffee?” Tim mumbles, ducking his head and breathing dip. The steam causes his cheeks to turn pink, and Jason’s mouth waters when his scent grows sweet. “Oh… You made me tea?”
“Yeah, uh…” Jason scratches his jaw, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I know you prefer tea in the mornings, and late at night when you’re stuck in the Cave working on files. If you do drink coffee, then it’s at work or the Watchtower because of the whole socialization thing.”
“And they call me the stalker,” Tim says, but he sounds amused, so Jason doesn’t feel like setting himself on fire. He’s also staring at Jason with a look of wonder, and it’s making Jason’s stomach flutter. “Thank you, Jason.”
“You’re welcome,” Jason says quickly to ensure he doesn’t stutter like a lovestruck idiot. He turns away from Tim to pile the pancakes, eggs, and bacon onto a plate before presenting it to the man. “Breakfast?”
“Yes, thanks!” Tim sets the mug down and takes the plate, his sleeve sliding down his arm to reveal his pale wrist. Jason glances at it, gaze fixated on his healed bite mark. There’s no indication, beyond a faint pink imprint, that nothing ever happened. “Do you want something?”
“Huh?” Jason says, blinking at him. “What do you mean?”
Tim turns his wrist toward Jason. “Are you thirsty?” he asks next, looking curious. “I can top you off before we go.”
“Um.” Jason does want to drink from Tim, but he’s not weak or hungry, so he suppresses the urge and shakes his head. “No, I’m good.” He reaches out, hesitates, and rests his hand on Tim’s wrist. “Also, I’m grateful for what you did for me, but please, don’t feel obligated to keep… feeding me. I’ll make do with my blood bags.”
“Hm.” Tim tilts his head, inspecting Jason in a way that makes him feel like one of his science experiments (and unfortunately, he likes it). “Did I not taste good?”
“You tasted amazing,” Jason tells him without thinking, brushing his thumb over Tim’s pulse. He feels it flutter beneath the digit, and catches the pleased look on Tim’s face right before he ducks his head. “Definitely my favorite.”
“Good,” Tim says after clearing his throat. “I’m glad.”
He doesn’t pull away from Jason.
🧛 🦇
Something changes between them.
On the surface, it seems like there’s nothing, but he can sense the noticeable difference whenever Jason’s alone with Tim, whether it be before, during, or after patrol. The one thing Jason notices the most is how Tim keeps touching him.
(And he doesn’t mind. Not one bit.)
It’s usually a brief touch of Tim’s hand to Jason’s arm or elbow, or even his shoulder when Tim tries to move past him. Sometimes, their hands brush when they walk beside each other, or Tim bumps their knees together if they’re sitting on a rooftop in the heart of Gotham.
In one instance, after successfully protecting Tim from a shootout between Two-Face and Penguin’s men, Tim stops him at Jason’s bike.
“You’ve got…” Tim says, trailing off after a while. He stares at Jason, smiles, and goes up on his tiptoes to run his fingers through Jason’s hair, and Jason freezes, staring at the beautiful man in front of him while wondering if vampires can self-combust. “There. Sorry, you had some debris on your head—probably from those shots that hit the building.”
“Yeah,” Jason croaks. Their closeness means Jason only smells Tim’s scent, and it’s so fucking intoxicating that it’s making him feel insane. “Right.”
He thinks he wheezes when Tim brushes the back of his hand down Jason’s cheek. It doesn’t matter if it’s accidental or not because the action suddenly made the whole situation much harder than before.
“Come on,” Jason rushes out as he climbs onto his bike, hoping Tim didn’t see anything. “Let’s get you home.”
It gets worse when he has to ride all the way through Gotham with Tim plastered against his back, arms snug around Jason’s waist. He’s torn between enjoyment and despair, and when Jason returns to his apartment later that night, he practically drowns himself in his shower, the cold water doing excellent work with quelling his problem.
🧛 🦇
“Hi,” Jason calls out when he enters his apartment, carrying the groceries into the kitchen. He starts taking everything out of the bag, listening to the way Tim’s heart quickens right before he appears, expression curious. “Hungry?”
“How’d you know I was here?” Tim asks.
Jason taps his ear. “Heartbeat,” he answers, opening the fridge and placing the cold meat on the top shelf, far enough away from the blood bags. “Yours is really distinct. I’ve already memorized it.”
“Oh. Right.” Tim hums. “Why’d you get all that food?”
“Because a little bird keeps visiting me,” Jason says, placing some of the boxed food and other snacks on top of the fridge. He also takes a moment to roll up the shopping bags into neat triangles, shoving them into one of his drawers for future use. “Why are you here? I thought you had training with Dick.”
“Stalker,” Tim says, sounding fond (Jason tries not to read too deeply into it). “Actually, I came here to talk to you about something.”
“And disabled my traps along the way?”
“Hey, it’s not my fault they suck!” Tim sniffs haughtily. “You should be thanking me for giving you room for improvement.”
“Thank you,” Jason says dryly. “What did you want to talk about?”
The humor fades from Tim’s face soon after, replaced with something Jason might call… anxiety. He watches as Tim wets his lip before pulling a small tablet out of his hoodie pocket, walking over to Jason to tilt the screen toward him. “It’s about your saliva.”
“Huh?”
“Along with the healing properties of your saliva, there are also, um, other side effects we can account for,” Tim explains, bringing up Jason’s file. Jason wonders where he got it, but then he remembers it’s Tim and decides never to ask. “I already told you it made me feel relaxed, but I didn’t elaborate further.” A pause where Tim chews on his bottom lip. “Um. It felt like there was a fog in my head, but it wasn’t bad! It was nice, I swear.”
“Great,” Jason says flatly, stomach twisting with dread. “I can roofie people with my vampire saliva. That’s awesome.” He sighs, vowing to never bite anyone else again.
( Not without permission, his animal brain corrects when he glances at Tim. It’s followed by a rush of shame.)
“There’s also—” Tim cuts himself off, and Jason tries not to breathe when his scent gets stronger, sweeter. The flush on his cheeks provides Jason with the reason for it.
“Also what?” Jason wonders, pushing himself off the wall to walk over to Tim. His hand clenches at his side when Tim’s scent somehow deepens. His mouth waters, and warmth pools in his gut, but Jason ignores all of it. “You can tell me, Tim.”
Tim doesn’t look at him when he quietly says, “It can act as an aphrodisiac.”
“How did you—” Jason stops, recalling the look on Tim’s face after Jason drank from his wrist. The glassy eyes, the flush to his cheeks, the way he stumbled when he stood up—was that all from the supposed aphrodisiac effect and not the blood loss?
And he slept in Jason’s bed that night, so did he—
No, Jason tells himself. His claws pierce his palm. Blood drips from the wound and onto the floor. Don’t think about it. You’re not allowed.
“Sorry,” Jason says quietly, after he gets himself under control, and steps away from Tim.
“No, it’s fine!”
“It’s not.”
“Really!”
“Tim,” Jason growls, feeling his nails extend into claws—the way they do whenever he’s deeply upset or angry about something. He turns away from the other man entirely and walks over to the other side of the living room, arms crossed as he glares out the window. “You should leave, Tim. I promise I won’t drink from you again, and I’m sorry for doing that to you.”
“Can you stop?” Tim demands, and Jason forces himself to turn enough to observe Tim. “Seriously, it’s fine! I offered to feed you, remember? And I don’t even know if it was your saliva that did it. Maybe that was my own bodily reaction!”
Jason snorts. “Yeah, right,” he says. “Like we’re ever that lucky.”
“Look, Jason,” Tim says, sounding frustrated. “I don’t know if it’s true or not. It was just a theory that popped into my head, so I thought I should mention it in case you’re out there biting other people—”
“I’m not,” Jason interjects. “I’ve only bitten you.”
Even with the distance between them, Jason can see the way Tim’s eyes crinkle at the corners—an obvious sign that he’s pleased. “Well, okay,” he says, voice much softer. “Well, I’m telling you now that I didn’t mind the aftereffects of your bite, and I would gladly offer you blood again, knowing I might have the same reaction.”
Jason feels oddly touched. He also feels plenty of other things, but he’s not going to mention them to Tim. “Thanks,” he says softly, reaching up to rub a knuckle against his upper lip. His gums itch. “I’ll try not to do it as much since we don’t know what causes it.”
“I mean,” Tim says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We could… test it.”
“Test it,” Jason repeats flatly, sighing when Tim nods. He squints at the man, catching the pink on his cheeks, and scoffs. “And you’re offering yourself up as a subject, huh?”
“I’m the only one who knows your secret!” Tim says, walking over. He places a hand on Jason’s arm, and Jason resists the urge to shove it off. He feels… tainted, and he hopes he doesn’t infect Tim with all the awful stuff inside him. “And… I don’t mind.”
Jason swallows. The air feels hot. And Tim’s scent… “You don’t mean that,” he says quietly.
“Jason,” Tim says seriously. “I’ve been trying to get into your pants for weeks now.”
Somehow, Tim ends up on his lap on the couch, hair pushed back and throat right in front of Jason. His fangs slide out with ease, and Jason doesn’t hesitate to break skin, eyes fluttering shut when a hot rush of blood floods his mouth. He forces himself to not drink as much as last time, pulling away to glance up at the man above him.
“Tim,” Jason whispers.
Tim sighs and tips his head to the side, revealing more of his pretty throat. A line of blood leaves his wound, and Jason can’t stop himself from leaning in to lick it up, dragging his tongue across the bite mark to effectively close them. It draws a soft noise out of Tim—something like a whimper and sigh—which does nothing to quell the heat coursing through Jason.
Jason cups Tim’s cheeks, forcing him to meet Jason’s eyes. Again, there’s that glassy look, and now that Jason knows what it means, he breathes in the other man’s heady scent, practically tasting his arousal. Fuck.
“Take what you want,” Jason says. It’s so close to a croon. “I’m not gonna judge you.”
Tim stares at him, eyes wide and dilated, before he visibly swallows. “Okay,” he whispers as he shifts to straddle Jason’s thigh (and Jason stills at the hot, wet feeling against it). “Okay, Jason.”
He drops his hands to Tim’s hips and squeezes encouragingly, but all that seems to do is drag a whimper out of Tim’s throat. Jason does it again, and Tim slowly rocks his hips, lips parting with another sound that Jason so badly wants to devour.
Jason doesn’t because it’s not his place, and he ends up biting the inside of his cheek when he picks out the smell of Tim’s cunt—salty, story, sweet, and mouth-wateringly good enough to make Jason feel dizzy. His cock twitches in his pants, but Jason pays it no mind, watching Tim grind against his thigh.
(He… wants. )
“Jay,” Tim suddenly moans, and the heat in Jason’s gut coils tighter. His hips pick up speed, mouth dropping open—little ah, ah, ah, ahs spilling out of his pretty mouth. Jason watches, not even moving when Tim suddenly curls inward with a whimper, hands clutching the front of his shirt.
His thigh grows damp as Tim’s scent seems to flood the room enough for Jason to taste it and fuck, he wouldn’t mind actually doing it. What Jason wouldn’t give to have Tim climb onto him and use his face as a seat.
“Tim,” Jason whispers.
Tim lifts his head. He stares at Jason with parted lips, his face flushed, and his eyes dark. His tongue slips out and swipes over his bottom lip, and Jason follows the action, his desire growing like the burning thirst he feels every few days.
“Jason,” Tim says. “Please.”
Their clothes quickly become lost after Jason leans in to kiss him. A frenzied need courses through him, and it’s only soothed by skin-to-skin contact with Tim. He presses him into the couch, scraping his teeth across Tim’s jaw just to hear release a cute little gasp, and squeezes one of Tim’s thighs.
“Tell me this is okay,” Jason says. He’s so close to Tim’s heat that it’s making him feel delirious. His gaze keeps darting between them to where they almost meet. “Tim. Please.”
“You can fuck me,” Tim says in a breathy voice. He looks like a dream—hair splayed out across the couch, the flush making his cheeks look rosy, lips red and swollen, nipples perky… It’s almost too much for Jason, and he keeps himself still, gripping Tim’s hip tightly. “You can, Jay. I want it so bad.”
Jason doesn’t deny either of them any longer.
He presses inside slowly, inhaling sharply at the feeling of his tight, hot cunt. It wraps around him so snugly, almost making it a struggle to get inside, and while Jason’s shuddering at the sensation, he’s too focused on Tim’s face to let himself get overwhelmed by Tim’s pussy.
Tim’s staring up at him with a wide-eyed look of wonder, the flush now down to his chest. He gasps wildly when Jason finally slides all the way in, wrapping both arms around Jason’s shoulders and a leg around Jason’s waist. A garble of words spills from his mouth, but Jason gets the gist of it, so he rocks in deeper, gut clenching when Tim cries out.
“Fuck,” he says before pulling out just to slam right back in, causing the couch to rock beneath them. “Fuck, Tim… ”
“Jason,” Tim moans, and Jason finally loses himself in Tim.
Nothing more gets said, the room getting filled with the sounds of their combined noises and their fucking. The couch creaks occasionally, but Jason doesn’t give a fuck. He’s too tangled up in Tim, too focused on fucking into the man who has his heart.
“Bite me?” Tim suddenly pleads, one hand tugging on Jason’s hair. Jason stares at his pink face, jaw slightly slack, fangs out, and tries to make sense of the request. “Please? Bite me? I-I want to—” He gasps when Jason shifts, and Jason keeps moving his hips, fucking harder, faster, just to hear more noises from him. “I wanna cum w-when you—”
“Tim,” Jason groans, shaking his head. He clutches Tim tighter, pressing even closer, and even though he knows it’s a bad idea, a large part of him craves the idea. “ Fuck. What are you doing to me?” Jason lowers his head, unable to stop the involuntary hiss from escaping. “Fine. Ready?”
He doesn’t even wait for Tim’s answer, sinking his teeth into Tim’s throat and groaning when Tim’s cunt tightens. Distantly, Jason can hear Tim chanting his name, voice pitched much higher than before, and then the man beneath him starts writhing, crying out, while he gushes around his cock.
Jason keeps fucking into Tim, keeps drinking from him. All his senses are filled with Tim—sweet blood coating his tongue, and the scent of him making him dizzy. Finally, the hot, tight feeling in his gut uncoils, and Jason shoves himself as deep as he can go, shutting his eyes as his hips jerk when he spills inside Tim’s pussy, listening to Tim’s little whimpers.
He forces himself to unlatch from Tim’s neck after he stops shaking from his orgasm, dragging his tongue across the bite. Jason then looks at Tim to ensure he’s okay, only a little startled to see a hint of reverence in his eyes.
“Thank you,” Tim whispers as he drags a thumb across Jason’s bottom lip. He’s still breathing hard, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to the sides of his face. Jason thinks he looks beautiful. “Um. I guess that solves the test.”
Jason drops his head onto Tim’s chest and laughs.
🧛 🦇
(Jason thought that might be it.
So, he’s severely unprepared to wake up to the feeling of something hot and snug around his cock, opening his eyes to the sight of Tim bouncing on his lap.
Tim’s hair looks wild and unkempt, so unlike his public persona, eyes dark with desire. His bite mark, although healed, stands out against his pale skin—scar as pink as his cheeks. Jason stares, amazed, before his brain catches up, and then he sits up and grips Tim’s hips tightly to thrust up into him, meeting each movement.
“Jason!” Tim cries when Jason really starts fucking him, clutching his shoulders tightly. Jason can feel the sharp bite of Tim’s nails digging into his skin, but he pays it no mind and instead focuses on wringing out every sound possible from Tim’s mouth. “Jason, Jason, Jason, Jason!”
They fuck well into the afternoon, and Jason knows there’s no going back for either of them.)
🧛 🦇
Sometimes, Jason finds himself breaking past all of Tim’s security measures to sneak into his apartment. He always makes up an excuse like needing help on a case, but they inevitably end up on the floor/chair/couch/bed as Jason drinks his fill, rutting into Tim while Tim writhes and whines.
On some occasions, Jason comes home to find Tim already naked in his bed, and Jason usually takes his time, enjoying the way Tim’s demands for Jason to bite him fall into breathless pleas for Jason to let him come, his legs kicking, toes curling, as Jason brings him to the edge with his tongue and fingers several times before stopping, waiting for Tim’s heartrate to settle so he can start again.
Rarely do they ever do anything in public, but sometimes, when Jason gets hit and Tim offers a wrist, he can’t resist, and Jason ends up fucking him on rooftops, in alleys, and once, after Jason disabled the cameras, in the Batmobile.
(Many such instances involve Tim sitting on Jason’s face, although it takes a while to coax him into doing it, and it only happens after Jason reminds Tim that he doesn’t need to breathe.)
Tim’s always so sweet afterward, clinging to Jason and petting his hair.
“Jason,” Tim whines one night, clawing at his back. Jason can feel skin break, and he can also feel the skin knitting back together. It makes him feel delirious. “Jason, please, I need— Jason! ”
“I know exactly what you need,” Jason murmurs, sliding a hand between them to rub his fingers over Tim’s clit. It’s hot and swollen from all their fucking, but the touch makes Tim cry out, his cunt squeezing Jason so tightly. “Come on, baby. You can do it.”
Tim hiccups and sobs, tears clinging to his lashes. “Jay,” he chokes out. “You can—”
Jason kisses his throat.
🧛 🦇
Jason: Come outside.
Tim💗: why?
Tim💗: oh wait
Tim💗: it’s bc you can’t get inside, huh :/
Tim💗: sorry, i can’t invite you in… no soliciting allowed…Jason: 🙄
Jason: We both know that’s not part of my lore.Tim💗: HA!
Tim💗: YOU SAID LORE!Jason: I’m leaving without you.
Tim💗: you’re silly
Tim💗: gimme a sec
“One,” Jason calls out when Tim finally exits his apartment, smirking when Tim rolls his eyes.
“You think you’re so funny,” Tim says as he walks up to Jason. He’s dressed in those tight dress pants Jason loves and a silk, maroon shirt. Honestly, with his pale skin, and the way the moonlight makes his hair shine, Jason might mistake him for one of those fantasy film vampires. “You’re early. I’m impressed.”
“I’m not you. ”
Tim snorts and wraps his arms around Jason, fingers brushing through Jason’s hair. “Hi,” he says, sounding a touch breathless.
“Hi,” Jason replies, unable to keep the smile off his face. Tim’s nails scrape over his scalp in a way that makes him want to purr. “Ready?”
“Yeah, and thanks for picking me up, but I need you to know that you’re unfairly hot when you ride that bike.”
“Yeah?” Jason says, amused.
“Yeah,” Tim replies. His scent suddenly gets sweeter. “Are you thirsty?”
Jason eyes Tim’s neck. His bite marks, now silver scars after countless times of drinking from Tim, suddenly seem to beckon him closer. “I could eat.”
And he does, practically pinning Tim to his bike as he drinks his fill. Tim makes such sweet sounds, squirming against him, and it’s a heady feeling to have Tim like this, to be able to do this without fear.
What makes it all better is how Tim lets it happen. It’s proof of his trust in Jason, putting his life in Jason’s hands.
He swiftly unbuttons Tim’s pants, sliding a hand down the front and into Tim’s panties. Even with his leather glove on, Jason can feel how wet Tim is, and he immediately circles a finger over Tim’s clit, trying not to grin when Tim bucks his hips with a whine.
Jason presses his lips to Tim’s wounds as he slips a finger inside, not even bothering to pause. He fucks it in and out of Tim’s cunt, and it sucks him in like it wants to keep his finger inside, like it wants to get fucked so badly by Jason. Tim gasps in his ear, clutching his shoulders tightly. If he were human, it might hurt, but Jason barely feels a thing.
“I know,” Jason soothes when Tim moans his name, face now buried in Jason’s chest. “I know you need more, baby.” He slides in another, curling them and holding Tim tightly when he arches against him, crying out into the night. “Someone’s going to hear you.”
“Jay,” Tim hiccups. His fingers are twisted in Jason’s hair, and tears cling to his lashes. One slips down his cheek, and Jason kisses it away. “Please…” He tips his head. The wound reopens at the movement, and a trickle of blood slides down Tim’s throat, disappearing past his shirt. “You can… Jason, please…”
Jason groans and latches on again, drinking from Tim while fingerfucking him. Apparently, that’s all Jason needs to do for Tim to come, and Jason grinds against Tim’s hip when he feels Tim’s cunt clenching tightly around his gloved fingers—pulsating, matching every jerk of Tim’s body and his quiet, breathy moans.
He waits until Tim’s heart rate levels out, until he stops panting loudly. Slowly, Jason pulls his fingers out from Tim’s cunt, brushing them against his twitching walls just to hear Tim’s soft gasps. He also forces his teeth away from Tim’s throat. When he leans in to lick the bite, he’s stopped by one of Tim’s hands against his face, and he leans back to quirk a brow at Tim, curious.
“Leave it,” Tim says, voice only slightly hoarse. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed over, but there’s some awareness when he meets Jason’s gaze. “You can leave it this time. I… I need to grab a turtleneck.”
“Hm.” Jason extracts his hand from Tim’s pants. A thin, pearly coating of slick covers his two leather-clad fingers. Jason holds them to Tim’s mouth, staring intently. “Clean them up, first.”
Tim inhales sharply. His mouth falls open only seconds later, and Jason slides them inside, feeling himself twitch yet again at the muted sensation of Tim’s tongue. He yanks them back out to drag Tim into a kiss, tasting cum and blood.
🧛 🦇
(“You could have fucked me,” Tim mumbles. If Jason didn’t have enhanced senses, the words would be lost to the night as they speed through Gotham to get to the manor, but he does have them, so he hears every word and smells the sweetness of Tim’s scent. “I would have let you.”
You always do, Jason thinks, not unkindly. It’s nice to have someone trust him enough with their bodies, and Jason hopes Tim understands how much it means to him, and how tries to return the favor by letting Tim in, by letting Tim see parts of him he thought were hidden away forever.
“Later?” Tim asks. “You’ll do it later, right? While you drink from me?” His arms tighten around Jason’s middle, and Jason can feel his fangs slide out at the suggestion. Fuck. “Please?”
At a stoplight, Jason turns and steals a kiss. “Later,” he promises, and Tim practically glows when he smiles. “Be good until then.”
“Okay,” Tim says, but Jason doesn’t trust it. His baby bird is way too mischievous and smart to give in so easily. “I’ll be good.”)
🧛 🦇
Dinner seems to run much longer than usual.
Being freshly fed allows Jason to eat, but only if it’s certain types of food, and while Alfred seems awfully suspicious of his sudden change in diet, he says nothing and concedes to Jason’s request for extra rare meat.
“I’m pleased to see you taking better care of your health, Master Tim,” Alfred says as he holds out the bowl of steamed vegetables. Tim uses the provided serving spoon to pile some onto his plate beside his beef, surprising Jason briefly before he remembers how much Tim tends to eat after a… session. “Is there something you’d like to drink?”
Tim daintily (in Jason’s opinion) chews on a piece of broccoli, one hand covering his mouth. “Do we have orange juice?” he asks, and Jason stares at his plate as a foot brushes against his ankle. “I’ve been feeling a bit light-headed recently.”
“Aw, poor Timmy,” Dick suddenly coos, turning towards Tim and wrapping an arm around him. Jason sneaks a peek at Tim’s face and catches the flicker of exasperation before it shifts into something fond—which Jason totally understands. “Maybe you should stay home from patrol if you’re not feeling well! I can cover your route.”
Instead of being annoyed by the suggestion, Tim surprises Jason by smiling and saying, “Only if it’s okay with you, Dick! I should probably rest before my big meeting tomorrow anyways.” He then looks at Jason and tilts his head, eyes containing none of the innocence his voice holds, “You’ll stay with me, Jason, won’t you?”
“Uh…” Jason wants to freeze when everyone else looks at him, but he forces himself to stay relaxed, holding Tim’s stare when he says, “Sure, Tim. I’ll keep you company.”
🧛 🦇
“Really? In my childhood bedroom?” Jason hisses even as he presses into Tim, the warmth of his cunt dragging a groan out of his throat. He buries his face in Tim’s neck and mutters a rough, “God dammit, Tim…”
“We’ll be fine!” Tim replies, his voice wavering. His legs come up to lock around Jason’s hips, and Jason knows they’re not going to leave for a while. “N-No one comes in here anymore…”
“Whatever,” Jason says, sliding back out and ignoring Tim’s protest. He stills with only the tip inside him, rubbing Tim’s clit in slow circles, and slams back in when the dazed expression on Tim’s face shifts into something more indignant. The bed rocks with the movement, and Jason quickly slides a hand onto Tim’s mouth when he cries out, cutting it off in time. “Be quiet! Someone will hear!”
“Don’t care,” Tim moans when Jason removes his hand. He wraps his arms around Jason’s neck, tugging him down to press their lips together. The kiss is as sloppy as their hurried fucking, which makes Jason throb with need. “Jason, harder. Ha —” He pants against Jason’s jaw, nails digging into Jason’s shoulders. “Jason…”
“You drive me crazy,” Jason mutters, gripping Tim’s sides. He shifts on the bed, lifts him a little, and cants his hips, staring into Tim’s hazy eyes. Jason might be imagining it, but he thinks he sees something softer there, something worshipful and adoring, and fuck, it’s doing things to Jason.
He wants to bite Tim and feel his warm blood slide down his throat, wants to pin Tim down and fuck him through it like he so often does, but more than anything, Jason wants to kiss Tim sweetly and confess his love to the man he barely deserves on his best days, wants to run away with him so they can live out a civilian life together in Italy or Rome.
Maybe I shouldn’t wait, Jason thinks as he grinds into Tim, listening to his desperate whimper. I’ve got too much time now. Why wait?
“Tim,” he whispers, gaze drawn to his throat when Tim tosses his head back with a breathy sound. Jason leans down, presses his lips to the flutter of Tim’s pulse, and speaks, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust. The words probably get lost amidst all of Tim’s sounds, but saying those words makes his head spin because now they’re out there, and he’s not even embarrassed about it.
“What’d you—” Tim tries to say, only to whine and rock against him, cheeks flushed. The sound of his hummingbird heart fills Jason’s ears, and it’s a sound Jason will never get tired of hearing. “Jay, what’d you—s-say, oh fuck. ”
🧛 🦇
(“Hey,” Tim whispers the next morning, hair covered in pillow feathers from when Jason had to bite one to keep himself quiet. “What are we?”
“Tim, I’m literally inside you,” Jason says flatly, but he swears he feels his undead heart return to life, thudding so loudly in his chest. He suddenly feels shy, so he averts his gaze, focusing on a spot on the far wall. “We’re whatever you want to be, Tim.”
Tim cups one of his cheeks, turning his head. Jason allows it to happen, mouth feeling oddly dry when he catches the sweetest smile on Tim’s face.
“I want to be yours,” Tim says softly. “But will you be mine, Jason?”
“Yes,” Jason whispers, and when Tim pulls him down, he doesn’t resist, sealing the promise with a kiss.)
🧛 🦇
Quiet gasps fill the Cave, occasionally paired with a grunt.
Jason moves in time with Tim, sweat causing his hair to stick to his forehead. He feels a dull ache in his lower back, and it twinges with every moment. He doesn’t think too much about it because all of his attention is focused on Tim’s flushed face.
“Jason,” Tim breathes.
A smirk slowly stretches across Jason’s face… right before he sweeps Tim’s feet out from under him.
Tim lands on the mat with a grunt, and Jason bears down on him, the rush of victory making him grin, fangs out and all.
“Take that!” he crows, sliding Tim’s bo-staff away. “Looks like you owe me dinner, Timmy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tim grumbles as he drops his head onto the mat. Sweat drips down his throat, and Jason follows the line until it disappears past his collarbone and inside his tank. “How about we go now? We can pick something up before patrol.”
“Mmm…” Jason’s gaze lingers on Tim’s throat, where two pink dots rest, marking where his teeth usually go. He glances back at Tim’s face, noting how he’s flushed from exertion, strands of black hair sticking to his forehead. “I kinda like it here.”
The flush deepens. “Jay,” Tim hisses, but Jason can see the way his eyes darken, and feel how his thighs part when Jason presses down more firmly. “Not here…”
“No one’s around,” Jason soothes, dropping a hand to cradle one of Tim’s hips. He thumbs over the bone, caught on the way Tim bites his lower lip. “And you know I won’t let anyone but me see you like that.”
It’s true. Jason’s too possessive to allow such a thing, moreso after his transformation into a creature of the night. He’s lucky Tim likes it enough to let him feel that way.
“We need to shower,” Tim says, but he’s sliding a hand around the back of Jason’s neck, playing with the ends of his hair.
“We can share,” Jason says. “Conserve water.” He leans down to kiss Tim’s throat, and his pulse jumps beneath Jason’s lips. “I’ll make it so good for you, sweetheart. You know I will.”
Jason almost grins at the hitch of Tim’s breath. He lifts his head when Tim slides his hand up to Jason’s hair, and he groans and rolls his hips when Tim tugs on the strands, nipping at Tim’s jaw. Jason lets Tim guide him into a kiss—chaste and sweet until Tim whispers, “You’ll fuck me, won’t you?”
They’re in the showers soon after.
🧛 🦇
Hot water scalds Jason’s back, but Jason doesn’t care, not when Tim’s making all these sweet sounds while Jason fucks him against the wall, hands digging into Tim’s hips.
He shifts a little and slides in deeper, relishing in the sound of Tim’s moan. Tim’s fingers scrape over his shoulders, and he feels the sting of his nails, the skin healing within seconds. Jason nudges Tim’s jaw, and Tim’s head thunks against the tile when he whimpers, but Jason doesn’t do anything beyond sucking a few marks onto his skin, gripping Tim’s hip tightly.
“Jay,” Tim whines. “Stop teasin’ me…”
“Use your words,” Jason drawls, moving his hand to press a thumb against Tim’s clit. Tim jolts so nicely in his arms, cunt clenching tightly around his cock, and Jason muffles his groan against Tim’s throat, hips stuttering. “Tell me what you want.”
“Bite me,” Tim says, voice high and breathless.
Jason shakes his head, but he can already feel his gums tingling. “Someone will see,” Jason says, eyes locked on Tim’s throat. His mind fixates on the sound of Tim’s heart, and his fangs slide out, eyes burning. “Won’t heal in time.”
“Don’t care!” Tim gasps. “Do it!”
And Jason leans in to sink his teeth into Tim’s throat.
The sweetness of Tim’s blood practically bursts on his tongue, followed by the tanginess Jason attributes to Tim. He groans and presses closer, fucking Tim deeper, and he shuts his eyes at the feeling of Tim tightening around him, cunt pulsing with every jerk of his body.
Jason grinds into Tim, still drinking, and he pulls himself away when Tim whimpers weakly. He buries himself deep inside Tim’s pussy when he cums, licking Tim’s neck clean of any remnants of blood. After a while, Jason slowly lowers Tim’s shaking legs, humming when Tim presses close, practically hiding against his chest.
“I got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, sweeping a hand down his back. “I got you.”
“Jay,” Tim whispers, sounding (and smelling) so sweet. He looks a bit pale, but Jason knows he’s fine. “Wash my hair?”
He kisses Tim, almost smiling when Tim sighs into it. “Sure, baby,” Jason says, nuzzling the top of his head. “I’ll wash your hair.”
🧛 🦇
“I think something’s wrong with Tim!”
The glass shatters in Jason’s hand when he startles, slow heart practically leaping in his chest when he whirls around to face his unrepentant older brother. “Don’t do that,” he hisses, barely suppressing the urge to flash his fangs and glowing eyes at the man. “Jesus fucking christ—wear a bell, or something!” His mind catches up to him, and he blinks, frowning at Dick. “What makes you say that?”
Dick stares at the ground. “Clean that up or I’ll tell Alfred,” he says before throwing his arms up. “And it’s obvious! I mean, he’s wearing turtlenecks! Tim never wears them because he says it makes him feel like he’s choking! And one time, it slid down enough to reveal some kind of scar on his neck!”
“It’s probably the one I left him,” Jason points out, feeling a flicker of guilt. Sure, Tim accepted his apologies long before they got together, but it sucks to think about. Now, though, seeing the scar sets off some primal part of his brain like it’s proof that Tim belongs to him.
His older brother doesn’t seem to hear him, tapping a finger against his chin as he paces around the room. “What if someone’s hurting him,” he asks, looking distraught. “What if someone’s attacking him?”
Jason thinks about the way Tim moans after the initial bite, the way he writhes whenever Jason drinks from him as they near completion, and shifts his weight. “I think he’d tell us,” he points out, ignoring the slightly husky tone of his voice. Jason clears his throat when Dick glances at him and adds, “Tim can probably fix the issue himself.”
“But—”
“ And he’d most likely push you away if you press the issue,” Jason says, gently kicking Dick’s ankle. “Also, it’d be embarrassing if you confronted him about it only to learn it was safe, sane, and consensual.”
Dick blanches, paling so quickly that Jason thinks he might pass out. He feels a rush of glee over his older brother’s suffering.
That’ll teach him, he thinks snidely, watching as Dick sways.
“No,” Dick whines. “Not my baby brother…”
Jason rolls his eyes. “Some birds need to leave the nest, Dickhead,” he says. “They can’t stay there forever.”
“I can kick their ass, though.”
“Huh?” Jason blinks. “Who?”
“Whoever Tim is seeing!”
Amused, Jason asks, “Got any ideas?”
“No,” Dick mutters, clearly disgruntled. He crosses his arms, frowning so hard that Jason thinks he spies a wrinkle. “I thought it might be Kon, Bart, or Cassie, at first, but all signs point to a strong friendship between them.”
Jason once thought the same thing, but all of his investigating (most of it coming from Tim himself after Jason wheedled him countless times) only led him to the conclusion that Tim’s friends are overly affectionate in ways that may not seem platonic to most. Dick has probably seen it all firsthand.
“Hm,” is all he says.
“I even went and asked Steph if they got back together, and she laughed at me,” Dick says. He sounds glum, and Jason wants to laugh. “And she didn’t believe me at first, not until I showed her the evidence I gathered.”
“Evidence,” Jason repeats slowly. “Like… pictures? Of Tim and… whoever is apparently hurting him?”
“No, uh. Just of the marks I saw.”
Jason tips his head back to stare at the ceiling where the bats hang down as they sleep. He doesn’t believe in anything anymore, but he still prays for some patience to deal with his idiot older brother. After a while, where he only hears the sound of Dick’s slow, confident heartbeat, and the hum of the Batcomputer, Jason looks at his brother and says, “Dick, you’re an idiot.”
“What?” Dick cries. “Why!”
“Tim will be pissed if he hears about you taking pictures of his probably consensual—” And boy, did Tim consent—repeatedly, in Jason’s ears while his cunt went all snug and tight around him. “—marks. He’s going to kick your fucking ass.”
“A small price to pay,” Dick murmurs, stalking over to their weapons. “for keeping my baby brother safe.”
Jason feels dread crawl down his spine, making him shiver.
He and Tim talked about coming out to the family eventually and theorized on the reactions of the others. They ranked everyone’s potential reaction from okay to neutral to worse (Cass, Damian, and Bruce, in those particular rankings), but they never bothered to stop and think about an overprotective older brother’s wrath against the idea of someone dating Tim.
Even though Jason is also Dick’s younger brother, he knows about Dick’s particular brand of favoritism when it comes to Tim. Jason completely understands, but it also means the odds aren’t in his favor.
🧛 🦇
(“I’m a little scared Dick might sneak up behind me and drive a stake into my heart when he finds out,” Jason says over the phone as he’s picking out snacks for Tim. They have a movie date soon, and Jason wants to make it perfect. “And he might do it without knowing I’m a you-know-what.”
“A homosexual?” Tim replies, and cackles when Jason sighs.
“Be serious,” Jason grumbles, dumping a few bags of chips into his basket.
“I am!” Tim says. “And you’re completely right, except for one thing.”
“What?” Jason asks, moving on to the cookie section.
“Dick wouldn’t sneak up behind you,” Tim says, sounding like the mere suggestion is stupid. Jason wonders if he talks like this to the WE board members and hopes there comes a day when Tim lets him sit in the corner during one of those meetings. “He’ll stab you face-to-face and look you in the eyes with a smile.”
“That doesn’t help,” Jason points out, hanging up when Tim starts cackling again.)
🧛 🦇
All good things come to an end.
It happens on a nice, chilly afternoon when Jason decides to stop by to have lunch with Tim. Unfortunately, he fucked up his timing, so he ended up exiting the elevator onto Tim’s floor right when Bruce leaves Tim’s office with Tim at his side.
Instead of eating with his partner (and potentially sneaking in a quickie), Jason’s forced into one of the conference rooms to eat with Tim and Bruce, who orders them something from the cafe downstairs. He fends off all questions about why he’s there, quietly exhaling in relief when Tim drags Bruce into a conversation about work.
(He listens to Tim’s rapidly beating heart, relaxing only when it calms down.)
“I have something to say,” Bruce says long after their food arrives. He wipes his face with a napkin before leaning forward, fingers steepled as he stares at Jason intently.
“Um…” Jason frowns. “Okay?”
“I know your secret, Jason,” Bruce says calmly, fingers steepled in front of him. Jason freezes, eyes flicking to Tim (who looks equally panicked) and back. “And I want to let you know that I accept you. I know we’ve had our differences in the past few years, but you will always be my son. Nothing can change that.”
“Really?” Jason asks, sharing another look with Tim, who shrugs back at him.
“Of course,” Bruce says, and reaches out to place a hand on Jason’s arm. “And may I just say I’m so proud of you for being so strong, even when you were dealing with this alone. I wish you didn’t feel like you had to hide it from me, but I understand it’s due to my past behavior, and I swear to you that I will work on changing myself.”
“Oh,” Jason says faintly. “That’s… great, Bruce. Thanks.”
Bruce nods and returns to his sandwich. After a beat, Tim goes back to eating his salad, and Jason continues poking at his chicken. It tastes like nothing, so he’ll probably pack it up and save it for Tim later.
“Bruce,” Jason says after a while, unable to quell his curiosity. “How did you find out that I’m a vampire?”
“Vampire?” Bruce blinks. “I was talking about your relationship with Tim.”