Work Text:
This is ridiculous.
There’s absolutely no reason for Dick to be doing his overbearing, worried big brother shtick right now.
Sure. Fine. Tim had been a little quieter than usual over comms last night. That didn’t mean anything. It certainly didn’t warrant Dick showing up uninvited with a bag of groceries and a total disregard for what Tim actually wants.
And now he’s cooking.
Cooking. In Tim’s kitchen.
Tim’s fairly certain no one has ever cooked in his kitchen. There’s a good chance the stove has never even been lit before. He doesn’t even know where the pots are kept.
Do I own pots?
Dick probably brought the pots with him.
Tim must have sighed, or made some other pathetic noise, because Dick is glancing over again, eyes narrowing with that infuriating big brother concern. His mouth opens like he’s about to say something.
Shit. Quick. Say something first.
Tim struggles to remember how a normal, emotionally healthy person would act, mildly frustrated that he is being forced to mask in his own apartment.
“Do you need a hand with anything?” He gets out, voice more clipped than he intended. Normal people offer to help, right?
Dick doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go. “You can grab the bowls and drinks.”
Tim ducks into the cabinet and finds two mismatched bowls, vaguely pleased he actually has something clean. He grabs a couple of cans of soda and passes one over before they both collapse onto the couch with their meals.
The pasta is, annoyingly, good.
Dick twirls his fork and gives Tim a sideways look. “Alright, Boy Genius. What’s brewing in that big, busy brain of yours?”
Tim doesn’t even blink. “Nothing.”
“You were weird last night.”
“I’m always weird.”
“Don’t deflect. You were off. Like, actually emotionally unavailable instead of your usual ironic detachment.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “Like you could tell the difference.”
“I’m serious,” Dick says. “What’s going on, dude? If you were anyone else, I’d assume you got dumped or something.”
Tim snorts, sharp and derisive. “Yeah, okay.”
“Right?” Dick nudges his shoulder. “You’d have to actually interact with another person first.”
Tim doesn’t reply, just shoves another bite of pasta into his mouth and stares at the blank TV screen.
Dick watches him a moment longer, then lets it drop. “Okay. Fine. Don’t tell me. But you better sort your shit out before Steph gets back from Paris, you know she won’t go this easy on you.”
Tim grunts, noncommittal. Dick takes it as acceptance and goes back to his food.
The silence stretches, filled only by the quiet clink of forks on ceramic.
It’s almost comical that Dick mentioned being dumped. That’s not what happened but Tim imagines it feels fairly similar.
It’s my own damn fault. I should never have let myself get attached.
~~~
They met at a coffee shop. Because of course they did.
Tim’s last barista had finally refused to serve him, after weeks of sneakily downgrading his shots, and he was on the hunt for someone who would just make his usual without complaint.
Is five shots of espresso, five times a day, really that bad?
This new place was two blocks from his office and didn’t look like much. There was a chalk board sign out the front that said ‘Houston, we have a latte’ and two small tables crammed within. A slightly crooked sign stuck to the register with peeling tape declared cash as king and there was an empty planter hanging in the window. The coffee smelled strong though, and the guy behind the counter was...
Unfairly cute.
Tim took a moment to appreciate the guy’s sharp jaw and messy black hair. The corner of a NASA logo peeked out behind his apron and, though none of his outfit was tight, his bare arms hinted at a lean, powerful build. Tim felt very normal about it all.
I wonder what he smells like.
Cute Barista whistled, low and impressed, when Tim rattled off his order. He fidgeted impatiently as the guy rang him up. People usually had something to say about his, admittedly excessive, caffeine intake but he didn’t care if he got judged as long as he got his damn drink.
“Enough juice to hit escape velocity, coming right up.” The guy said with a lopsided grin as he handed over the receipt.
Uh… what?
It took Tim a moment to realise that Cute Barista was flirting. With him.
He had probably caught Tim staring and decided to try his luck for a bigger tip. Still, it caught Tim off guard and he scrambled to reply.
“Uh… To infinity and beyond?”
Yeah, that ain’t it, chief.
Tim looked away, mortified and shoved a $100 bill in the tip jar, shuffling off to the side to wait.
Soon, his name was called and he shuffled back over. To his horror, the cup had a shooting star sketched next to his name and was handed over with a wink and a smirk, knocking a solid two hours of sleep deprivation out of Tim’s system
Whelp, never coming back here again.
He was back there within two hours.
I just need more coffee, that’s all.
Determined to somewhat redeem himself, Tim made a point of being extremely normal when he approached the counter.
“Same again?”
“Uh… yeah, yes… please.”
Speak much, dumbass.
There were a few more people waiting to order so Tim moved away quickly, glancing at Cute Barista's name tag as he went. This time, when his name was called, he caught the guy’s eye and tried for a smile that wasn’t creepy.
“Thanks, Danny.”
Danny’s lips curled, slow and pleased. He leaned forward, bumping the counter as if he’d forgotten it was there.
“No problem,” he said, Tim managed not to shiver at the low tone of his voice. “See you later, Tim.”
The wink, this time, was slower.
Fuck.
Of course Tim went back the next day.
And the next.
By the fourth day, his coffee was waiting for him at the counter. Danny slid it over with yet another wink and a grin, like he knew exactly what that did to Tim's cardiac health.
Tim started bringing his laptop. It was easier to tell himself he was just catching up on emails than to admit he was lingering. Easier to pretend he was just avoiding another boring shareholder meeting than to acknowledge he’d learned Danny’s break schedule. It was clearly an accident when he sat down to sip his coffee, hand hovering over the delete key, and Danny slipped into the seat across from him.
Their flirting turned to chatting, getting to know each other. Tim learned Danny was a nomad, exploring the country and never staying in one place for more than a month. Danny learned Tim was a chronic over-worker and didn’t know how to have fun. They kept it light, shallow.
Sure, if he let himself, Tim could picture something more with the cute barista. They clicked too easily, laughed too hard, had too much in common for him not to notice. But Danny would be gone in a few weeks, and it wasn’t like Tim could risk some random civilian finding out about his night life.
Tim tried not to think about it.
He was doing a pretty good job of not thinking about it, just letting himself enjoy their unofficial coffee dates, when Danny had to go and ruin it.
Just over a week after they first met, Danny slid a ticket stub across the counter with Tim’s coffee. His grin faltered for once, replaced with something almost shy. The first crack in the cocky swagger Tim was used to. Apparently there was a midnight screening of some old cult-classic space horror and Tim was invited.
This is a terrible idea.
They sat too close in the empty theatre. On the walk back, Tim could still feel the press of Danny’s shoulder against his. Their hands kept brushing as they walked, sending electric sparks up Tim’s arm. He could smell the popcorn on Danny’s skin and the soda on his breath. He violently wrestled with the part of himself that was desperate to taste.
Danny had been sending signals all night, little nudges, glances, lingering touches, but seemed content to let Tim take the lead. It would be too easy to stop walking, to pull him into the nearest alley and give in to the want. Tim knew if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop, wouldn’t want to.
God, it could be so good.
Tim’s thoughts tripped over themselves, the want clawing up through all his careful restraint, tearing it apart piece by piece. He was already in too deep. He knew it.
They were only a few blocks from his building when the muggers showed up.
Tim moved to shield Danny without thinking, instinct taking over.
Then he felt bricks against his back and belatedly realised Danny had acted on similar instincts, pushing him back and stepping forward to meet their attackers.
Only, Danny lit up green and phased through a flying brick.
Tim froze.
The muggers didn’t stand a chance. One swung a bat that passed straight through Danny’s chest like smoke. Another pulled a knife but blanched when Danny’s eyes blazed. He bared his teeth and his face shifted, melting into something monstrous, wreathed in shadows and Lazarus flame.
The air itself changed. Cold. Sharp. Fear settled over the alley like a physical thing. Even Tim, who never flinched, felt it crawl under his skin.
One by one, the muggers broke. The knife clattered. The bat dropped. Within seconds, all three of them were running, stumbling over each other in their scramble to escape.
In the space of a breath, Danny had become something powerful, otherworldly, and terrifying in a way that shouldn’t have thrilled Tim.
The green glow faded and Tim felt all the hunger and want from earlier burn him from the inside out. As the shadows slipped away Danny turned back to Tim, face tight with a look he recognized as I just ruined everything.
Tim didn't give him a chance to explain.
“I’m Red Robin,” He blurted out. “I run around at night with Batman. Fighting crime.”
Danny blinked. “What?”
Tim stepped forward, heartbeat still hammering, but not from fear. “Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
It was a good thing they were close to Tim’s building. By the time the door shut behind them, they were already half out of their clothes.
That night set a pretty strong precedent.
The weeks that followed burned hot and fast, with the kind of intensity that should have fizzled out after a night or two, but didn’t. Because, after the fact, when they’d caught their breath and cleaned themselves up, Danny stayed.
Tim hadn’t thought about it at first. He just ordered enough takeaway for two, started scrolling Netflix, and Danny picked something with a cautious smile. By the time the food arrived, it hadn’t even occurred to him that this wasn’t standard hookup procedure.
And they kept going like that. Hook up, crash on the couch, end up talking until the clock slid past midnight. Danny would stay through another episode, another box of dumplings, another story shared in the low light of Tim’s apartment.
Danny talked about wanting to be an astronaut when he was younger. He admitted he still mapped constellations with a beat-up telescope. Apparently he’d thought about college but he never stayed anywhere long enough to give it a go.
Tim didn’t push when Danny let slip he was running from something. Didn’t think about that night, the eerie green glow and what it might all mean. In return, he didn’t give much detail about his own after-dark activities, and Danny didn’t ask.
In the daylight, Tim still showed up at the café. Laptop open, emails untouched. Just an excuse to sit there, to catch Danny on break, to share a grin over a cup of coffee.
He knew it was going to hurt. He just kept thinking he had more time.
~~~
And now?
Now the month is up. Danny was never planning to stay. Yesterday had been his last day at the cafe, all his belongings stuffed into a duffle bag and stowed under Tim’s usual table. Tim had a meeting he couldn’t get out of that afternoon, Danny had been serving a customer and all they’d managed was a casual wave goodbye. Now it’s just... Over.
So yeah, Tim had been off last night, during patrol. He’d been emotionally unavailable because he wasn’t sure which emotions would come out if he let them. He’d hoped no one had noticed. No one had followed him home, at least.
But Dick… Dick is sitting there, glancing up every five fucking seconds like someone who knows damn well his younger brother cried himself to sleep last night.
I’m pathetic.
Dick’s right, Tim needs to sort his shit out before Steph gets home. She has an unpleasant knack for getting her ex to admit the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
He pokes at his pasta absently, so lost in thought he almost misses the first knock. The second is louder, rudely snapping him back into the room.
Of course his siblings didn’t coordinate their efforts. Jason is probably here to sling a few insults and dump some distraction casework in his lap like a gift. Dick is going to insist that what Tim really needs is to talk about whatever is bothering him. Then Tim will have to sit and listen while his two predecessors argue over the correct way to comfort a depressed bird.
Never mind that both of them are just as emotionally stunted.
With a sigh, Tim pushes himself up and stomps over to the door, trying to work out how to make Jason regret the visit in as few words as possible. His ribs ache from the weight of the day, from Dick’s watchful eyes, from everything he’s pretending not to feel. The last thing he needs is round two.
He pulls the door open mid-sentence.
“I’ve had more than enough brotherly love for one night, Jason. You and Dick can fight over next week’s time slot-”
The words jam in his throat.
It’s not Jason.
Danny stands before him, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and that cocky, crooked grin plastered on his face.
“Hey,” Danny says softly.
Silence.
Tim swallows.
His pulse thunders in his ears. He can’t move. Can’t think.
Danny’s eyes flick past him, toward the faint light spilling from the living room, where Dick is peering over the back of the couch. His voice dips low, uncertain.
“So… you mentioned something about that astrophysics course at Gotham U, and I was thinking about it. And then I was sitting in a bus station, thinking about it some more, and, uh…”
He scratches the back of his neck, gaze skittering away, shifting on his feet like he’s bracing for rejection. “Is there any chance I can crash here for a couple days? Just until I get my feet under me. Again.”
Tim stays rooted to the floor, useless. He can’t even pretend to be functional. His mind is too full of static. He nearly jumps out of his skin when something brushes against his shoulder. Dick appears there, hand extended, smile bright and disarmingly casual.
“Hi, I’m Tim’s brother, Dick. It’s only weird in English.”
Danny shakes his hand after a beat, giving a weak laugh. “Uh, hey Dick. I’m Danny. I’m a, uh… friend of Tim’s.”
The moment stretches, awkward and unbearable. Danny’s grin begins to slip.
Come on. Mask. Normal person mask. Where the hell is it?
“Crash,” Tim blurts out. “Of course. Here. Sure. Guestroom is-” he gestures vaguely down the hall, “-this way. Follow me.” The look Dick shoots him as they move says loud and clear that he hasn’t nailed the normal-person routine. Not even close. Tim swallows hard, willing his pulse to calm, willing the tightening in his pants to quit betraying him. It’s pavlovian at this point, Danny in his doorway usually transitions pretty quickly to Danny in his bed.
He starts box breathing as he leads Danny down the hall, trying desperately to get his shit together, to remember that Dick is right there.
In, 2, 3, 4. Hold, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4.
Tim is calm as he pushes open the door to the guestroom, calm as he lets it swing almost shut behind them, calm as Danny drops his bag on the bed and turns, nerves still hanging in the set of his shoulders, grin tugging uncertain at the edges.
It’s not entirely clear who moves first.
All Tim knows is one moment he is counting his breaths and the next, Danny’s hands are fisted in his hair, his own clutching at that goddamn faded NASA shirt, as their mouths collide in a rush of heat. Breathless, panting, all teeth and tongues and weeks of passion reigniting in an instant.
Tim breaks first, shoving Danny back a step and turning away, laughing breathlessly.
“My-my brother is out there.” he manages, voice rough, like the words have to be dragged out of him.
He risks a glance back and instantly regrets it. Danny’s grin is wicked, green eyes sparking, chest heaving just as hard as his. He licks his lips, and Tim’s eyes follow hungrily. Danny laughs, low. “You gotta stop looking at me like that if you don’t wanna get jumped.”
Tim huffs, something between a groan and a laugh, still chasing his breath. “You hungry?” he tries, voice hoarse.
Danny doesn’t miss a beat, already closing the gap and letting his mouth brush Tim’s jaw, breath hot against his skin. “Starved.”
Tim swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists in an effort to keep his hands to himself. His heart is still hammering, body buzzing with all the wrong priorities. He drags in a shaky breath, straightens his spine, and wills his mask back into place.
“Dick made pasta.”
Danny pulls back. His grin lingers, crooked and knowing, but he nods and mercifully steps away. For a moment they just stare at each other, catching their breath.
Then Danny reaches out, slow this time, and smooths his fingers through Tim’s hair. Not the urgent tug from before, but gentle, deliberate, settling the strands back into place.
Tim’s throat feels tight. He swallows again, forcing his hand up to brush across Danny’s chest, flattening the wrinkles his own fists left behind. His knuckles linger a second too long against the fabric before he pulls back.
“Thanks,” Tim says, voice softer than he intends.
Danny’s smile shifts, less cocky, more vulnerable, like Tim just gave something away.
Tim clears his throat. “Ready?”
Danny’s smirk returns, lighter this time. “Lead the way.”
By the time they step back into the kitchen, they are composed, masks firmly in place. Tim fishes another bowl out, Danny snags a soda from the fridge, and together they drift back into the living room like nothing is out of the ordinary.
Dick seems to be buying it, or at least pretending to, though he shoots Tim a questioning look when Danny’s back is turned. Tim signs *covert* under the table, hoping his brother will accept that Danny is just some civilian friend of Tim’s and leave it at that.
They sit. They eat. Danny compliments Dick’s cooking after the first bite, apparently all the encouragement Dick needs.
“Where are you from?”
“What are you doing in Gotham?”
“How do you know Tim?”
Danny, to his credit, handles the inquisition beautifully. His answers are vague in detail but smooth in delivery, the kind of breezy half-stories you’d expect from someone who couch-surfs his way through cities. Nothing rings false, nothing pings Dick’s radar.
He mentions his interest in astrophysics and astronomy, how Tim encouraged him to think about higher education, even offered to put in a word with the admissions board. He paints himself as a wanderer finally thinking about slowing down.
“He’s the only barista in all of downtown who doesn’t flinch at my coffee order,” Tim deadpans when Dick’s eyes cut toward him. “Seemed like a good investment.”
Danny snorts, Dick grins wide, and of course he takes the opportunity to poke fun at his little brother, much to Danny’s delight.
The rest of the meal passes almost comfortably, laughter and easy ribbing washing over Tim. He feels uncharacteristically warm, grateful in a way he rarely lets himself be. Sitting here, it’s too easy to forget that he and Danny are supposed to be performing, that Dick is still measuring every answer. For once, normal doesn’t feel like a mask. It just feels… normal.
By the time the pasta is gone, Tim is convinced they’re in the clear.
Danny gathers the dishes and carries them to the sink while Tim walks Dick to the door. His thoughts are already drifting, sliding back to the way Danny’s hands felt tangled in his hair, the familiar spark under his skin.
The sooner Dick leaves, the sooner we can-
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Dick asks suddenly, voice low, cutting through the daydream. His gaze flicks toward the kitchen and the man very deliberately not eavesdropping. “Secret identities and roommates don’t mix.”
Tim blinks, pulse stumbling. For a beat too long, he freezes, caught between heat and reality.
Then the mask snaps back into place. “It’s just a few days,” he says quickly, pushing Dick over the threshold before he can dig any deeper. “Helping people is what we do, remember?”
Dick doesn’t look convinced, but he nods slowly. “Alright. Just... Be careful.”
Tim forces a thin smile and shuts the door.
Right, where was I?
He turns, pulse already thundering, to find Danny lingering in the kitchen. He looks a little out of place, shoulders drawn tight. To be fair, he probably didn't expect to meet one of Tim’s brothers tonight. It’s fine. Pretty soon he’ll forget all about Dick.
“So,” Danny starts, hesitant grin tugging at his mouth, “As bougie as that guestroom looked, I was kinda hoping-”
He doesn’t get to finish.
Tim is on him in a heartbeat, slamming him back against the counter, mouth hot and demanding. His fists tangle in Danny’s shirt, tugging hard, desperate for skin.
Danny catches on fast, groaning into the kiss as his hands find Tim’s hips and haul him closer. Their legs slot together and they both gasp at the sweet, sweet friction.
Tim tugs at Danny’s shirt again, impatient, and Danny chuckles against his mouth. “I guess I’m not sleeping in the guestroom, huh?”
Tim moves to bite at his neck, harsh enough to sting, then soothes it with his tongue. “You can sleep wherever the fuck you want.”
He pulls back just long enough to strip the shirt over Danny’s head, breath ragged. “That is, if I let you sleep at all.”
It would feel a lot like their first night together, if Tim would stop to think about it. But he has no intention of stopping anything right now. He fully plans to go until he physically can’t. Maybe even longer, Danny’s stamina far exceeds that of his base human body. Tim knows from experience.
They’ve been apart less than two days, yet Tim feels like a starved beast. Danny seems to be in a similar state as they claw at each other, fighting for dominance. When Tim gets his mouth on Danny’s chest, he’s rewarded with a sharp gasp and the even sharper sting of fingers tugging his hair. For a moment he is fully in control, Danny writhing under him, helpless. It’s a heady feeling.
Then Danny’s hands slide lower, gripping tight at Tim’s hips, and suddenly his feet leave the ground. It’s not the first time Danny has demonstrated a strength that doesn’t quite match his appearance but Tim is momentarily floored by it all the same. His legs lock around Danny’s waist on instinct, grinding down, chasing the friction.
The sound that rips out of him is mortifying, a high pitched whine that makes his ears burn.
Danny snickers against his throat, smug.
Tim flicks him in the side of the head. “Shut up, asshole. I assume you were going somewhere with this?” He grinds deliberately against Danny again.
Danny only grins wider, shifting his grip and pushing away from the counter. They don’t make it far down the hall before he stops, pressing Tim into the wall. His mouth is rough on Tim’s, teeth catching, Tim’s legs tighten around his waist.
Then Danny dips lower, catching the collar of Tim’s shirt between his teeth. He tugs once, insistent, and lifts his brows in a playful glare that makes his point clear.
Tim huffs a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
Another tug, sharper this time, has the fabric biting into the back of Tim’s neck. Danny’s fingers dig into his thighs, hard, and he growls low in his throat.
Tim snorts and yanks the shirt off himself, tossing it down the hall. “There. Happy now?”
Danny flashes a wicked grin. “Getting there.” He pulls back, gaze scorching as it tracks down the toned planes of Tim’s body.
For a moment his expression shifts, the grin fading into something darker, sharper. His eyes linger on the fading bruises scattered over Tim’s chest and ribs, ugly yellowed remnants of two nights ago. Gifts he left when they both believed it was the last time.
The change in him is palpable. His grip tightens, one hand sliding from Tim’s thigh to press a thumb hard into one of the marks. Tim moans at the sharp ache, head tipping back, hips jerking helplessly against Danny’s hold. The sound that tears out of him is wanton, humiliating, and Danny’s grin has returned, smug and promising more. Tim pointedly drags his eyes away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how wrecked he is. Danny might be winning this round, but Tim is already plotting how to even the score.
His gaze snags on the guestroom door over Danny’s shoulder, cracked open in the half-dark. A laugh bubbles up before he can stop it. “You know,” he pants, crooked grin tugging at his mouth, “I don’t actually keep lube in my guestroom.”
Danny pauses just long enough to glance over, realization sparking in his eyes, then chuckles low, shifting his grip. “Guess we better keep moving, then.”
He pulls away from the wall, mouth returning to Tim’s neck, and stumbles blindly down the hall. It’s impressive that he keeps any sense of direction. Tim isn’t certain he could find his own way right now, not with his brain melting under every scrape of teeth. He feels a dangerous warmth bloom in his chest at the thought that Danny is so familiar, so comfortable here in Tim’s apartment.
Then the bedroom door slams against the wall and there’s no room left for anything but want.
Tim hits the enormous bed with a bounce, breath punched out of him, and for a beat he lies there, dazed, shirtless and buzzing. Then instinct kicks in, he scrambles back, crawling up the bed on his elbows, arching an eyebrow in a crooked dare.
Come on then. Show me what I’ve been missing.
Danny doesn’t waste a second. He surges forward, weight crashing into the mattress, and pins Tim down hard in the middle of the bed. The impact knocks another gasp out of him, laughter tangled with it, wild and breathless.
Strong hands clamp onto his hips, holding him there, and Danny’s mouth is on him, lips and teeth reclaiming each fading mark he can find. They'll be dark purple and aching again tomorrow and all Tim can think is Yes.
Pain lances through him when Danny bites down on his nipple. He’s too far gone now to be embarrassed by how much he likes it. Danny does it again, and again harder, only relenting when Tim shoves at his head with a groan that sounds far too much like begging.
Danny’s grip shifts, one hand sliding up to splay across Tim’s chest. Fingers press in, nails grazing, light at first, then sharp enough to sting. The ache sends Tim jerking up against him, cock straining, trapped tight in his jeans and Danny’s hold.
There’s a low sound, amusement, maybe, and Tim realizes his eyes are squeezed shut. He forces them open just in time to catch Danny leaning back with a smug grin. Tim narrows his eyes, glaring, but it only makes Danny’s grin widen.
“Was there something you wanted?” Danny teases, thumb brushing over his waistband. Tim curses and tries to grind up against him. Danny’s grin turns wicked. He pulls his hand away entirely. “What was that?”
Tim huffs, clinging to what little composure he has left and aiming for confidence. He misses, landing somewhere near desperate. “You know exactly what I want.”
“Maybe I do.” Danny’s voice drops low as he leans in close, lips grazing Tim’s ear. “Maybe I just want to hear you beg.”
Tim’s whole body jolts at the words, heat pooling low, a shiver clawing down his spine. Danny pulls back again, his hand toying lazily at Tim’s fly, like he has all the time in the world.
The look he pins Tim with is… intense. Focused in a way that makes everything else fall away. It roots him to the mattress, chest tight under the weight of it. Being wanted this much is dizzying, addictive.
Tim doesn’t realise he’s stopped breathing until he tries to speak.
“Please.”
Danny’s grin returns and Tim can breathe again. The hand at his fly works fast, and he lifts his hips to help. Finally, finally, his cock springs free, hard, aching, precum pooling in the crease of his hip.
Danny’s palms smooth down the length of his thighs, spreading him open with a grin that’s all teeth, all hunger. Tim props himself up on his elbows, just in time to watch that cocky smile widen before Danny’s tongue drags up the length of him.
“Fuuuuck.” The groan rips out of him as Danny takes him in hand, giving a few slow strokes. Winking, just like he did all those weeks ago at the café.
Then Danny’s mouth is on him. Hot and wet, swallowing him down in one messy, enthusiastic motion that sends Tim’s spine bowing clean off the mattress. He chokes on another curse, air ripped out of his lungs, every thought incinerated.
Danny hums around him, the vibration shooting straight through Tim’s core, and it’s obscene how quickly his hips jerk, how shamelessly his body begs for more. Danny doesn’t slow, doesn’t tease, just works him with relentless hunger, as if he’s been starving and finally offered a feast.
Tim can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but hold on, gasping and shuddering. Danny’s hair is rough in his fists as every nerve burns white-hot. Danny shifts and Tim’s leg drags against denim. For a moment the friction just adds to the overload, rough against bare skin, then his fogged brain catches up. Denim. Danny’s still wearing pants.
Fuck that.
“Wait,” Tim gasps. “Wait-”
Danny stops immediately and Tim aches with the loss, hips twitching. It takes a second to remember that he’s the one who asked for this.
Danny glances up, eyes searching, voice low. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Tim manages, shaking his head. “Just...” He exhales hard, tugging insistently on Danny’s hair. “Come here.”
The tension breaks in an instant. Danny’s grin flickers back, worry melting into that familiar, infuriating cockiness. “Miss me already?”
“Just come here, asshole.”
Danny laughs, low and smug, and crawls up the length of him until they’re chest to chest. The kiss that follows is messy and desperate, teeth clashing, breath shared. Tim can taste himself on Danny’s tongue, can feel the smirk against his mouth, and it only makes him want more.
He growls into the kiss, hands sliding down Danny’s back, gripping hard. Then, in a sharp twist, he rolls them, Danny hitting the mattress with a surprised grunt.
Tim leans over him, breath rough, pupils blown wide. “My turn.”
He dives in, mouth dragging down Danny’s throat, sucking hard enough to leave his own bruises this time. Danny arches under him, hands twitching like he can’t decide whether to push Tim off, or pull him impossibly closer.
Tim takes his time, paying Danny back for teasing him. His teeth graze pale skin, and Danny shivers. His palms smooth down ridges of muscle, and Danny arches into the touch. He maps the familiar lines of Danny’s body with his mouth and hands, pleased to find nothing has changed in their short time apart.
Tim spent three weeks cataloguing every tell, every sound, every twitch of muscle that meant he was doing something right, and he isn’t holding anything back tonight. Every little piece of intel he’s gathered will be put to use; he’s determined to see Danny come apart.
Danny’s breath stutters, his usual cocky grin faltering into something raw and vulnerable as Tim works lower, slower. He drags his mouth down the centre of Danny’s chest, tracing the sharp lines of muscle with open-mouthed kisses, teeth catching just enough to make him twitch.
When Tim reaches his waistband, he pauses, lips hovering, smirk tugging at his mouth.
“What was it you were saying earlier?” he drawls, looking up through his lashes. “Something about begging?”
Danny huffs out a breath that’s half laugh, half groan. The grin creeps back, lazy and crooked. “Oh, don’t worry, I remember my manners, better than you at least.” he flutters his eyelashes, pouting for effect. “Please, Tim.” The plea rolls off his tongue like a taunt, and hearing his name like that sends a wave of want through Tim, hot and dizzying. He groans and buries his face in the dip of Danny’s hip.
Danny snickers and Tim nips his hip bone in retaliation, soothing the sting afterwards with a slow, wet kiss. He presses another slow kiss just above Danny’s waistband. Danny’s breath catches, hips twitching, but Tim just smirks against his skin. He lets his teeth graze lightly at the edge of denim before looking up, eyes glinting.
Then he starts to work the button open.
He takes his time with it, knuckles brushing against cool skin, every motion unhurried, deliberate. Danny’s still watching him, pupils blown wide, smug grin holding on by a thread.
Tim hooks his fingers under the waistband, tugging the fabric down inch by inch, trailing his mouth after it, over hipbones, down the curve of a thigh, until Danny’s jeans and boxers are nothing but a heap together on the floor.
Tim sits back and takes a moment just to look at him, spread out and breathless. Danny’s grin finally falters, and he starts to sit up.
Tim is having none of it. He moves before he can think, surging forward to pin Danny back against the sheets, palms flat on his chest. His hips follow, slow and deliberate, pressing down in one long, unhurried roll.
The body beneath him jerks and Danny makes a noise that sounds like static to Tim’s sex addled mind. Hands slide down Tim’s back, pulling him closer, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. They settle low, and Tim arches into the touch before he can stop himself.
“Want you in me.” His voice is rough, even to his own ears, and Danny groans in response, fingers digging hard into the meat of Tim’s ass, spreading him open and reaching to brush against his hole.
Tim shivers in anticipation.
Or, does he?
Oddly, he realises he feels cold. Maybe he left the window open, or the air conditioner is playing up.
But no. It’s Danny. The skin under Tim’s hands is chilled, leeching warmth from the air around them.
Tim tenses, confused, and Danny freezes mid-kiss, a questioning hum caught in his throat. Then realisation and guilt flicker across his face, panic chasing close behind.
“Fuck, give me a second, I just…” His voice trails off into actual static as he scrambles back, dragging himself up the bed until his shoulders hit the headboard. Heat rushes in, sudden and unnatural under Tim’s palms, as he pulls away. Danny’s eyes squeeze shut and his breath comes ragged, like it hurts.
What the fuck?
Tim stays where he is, kneeling in the middle of the mattress, pulse hammering. It takes longer than he’d like to admit for his brain to come back online, but when it does, he thinks back to the events that led up to their first night together. He remembers the temperature in the alley dropping, his breath fogging in front of him, remembers the shadows growing, reaching toward Danny. He remembers feeling afraid but being unsure why. He never felt like Danny would hurt him.
He doesn’t feel afraid now, though Danny clearly does. It’s written all over his face. His eyes are open now, and he’s watching Tim with that same look. Like he thinks he’s ruined something. Like he thinks this is over.
Tim has absolutely no idea what’s going on. He’s never seen this particular combination of powers, but his Bat-brain is leaning toward magic as the cause, maybe some kind of curse, judging by the shame and guilt practically pouring off the man. Clearly there’s some element of control involved.
Clearly, Danny has maintained that control fairly well for the last few weeks.
Clearly, Danny has been holding back.
That ends tonight.
Danny is looking at him as if Tim would care that he’s something other, and Tim has to fix that right now.
Moving slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Danny’s, Tim crawls up the bed. He swings a leg over Danny’s hips and leans in until their faces are close enough to share a breath.
“You don’t scare me.”
He rests his forehead against Danny's, watching his eyes widen in shock. Before he can reply, Tim catches his mouth in a kiss, pulling back far too soon to trail his lips back to Danny’s ear.
“I don’t care what you are.” Tim’s voice stays low as he tugs an earlobe between his teeth. Danny shivers and the skin beneath Tim’s hands starts to cool once again. “I might care what you can do,” His lips curl into a smirk as he leans down further, teeth scraping skin. “at least as far as it pertains to getting me off.”
Danny huffs a laugh and the tension finally starts to bleed back out of his body. Tim leans back just enough to see the guilt and fear fall away, replaced by something closer to wonder. He feels Danny shift and suddenly ice-cold hands are sliding around his waist. Tim jolts forward on instinct, accidentally grinding against Danny’s lap. They groan in unison and Tim is glad to find Danny’s cock has decided to rejoin the party.
There’s still a tightness around his eyes, though, so Tim bends to the other side of his neck, licking a slow path upward before he whispers, “Let go.”
Danny shudders and pulls Tim’s body flush against his, burying his face in Tim’s shoulder.
“You’re insane.” He murmurs incredulously, cold fingers trailing goosebumps up Tim’s back, to tangle in his hair.
“So I’ve been told.” Tim pulls back as he answers and is rendered immediately stupid by what he finds. Danny’s skin feels like ice everywhere they touch, but apparently that’s not all he’s been holding back on.
His eyes have brightened to that glowing, neon green Tim remembers, and they sit just barely too large and too far apart on his face to be human. His mouth has widened as well, nearly splitting his face in half.
Danny’s always been pale, but now his skin seems translucent, the natural rosy undertone turned blue. The bruises Tim had sucked into his chest earlier are now lighter than the skin around them, almost glowing.
In fact, the shadows around the room are reaching in toward them, somehow blocking the window, and the only source of light left seems to be Danny. His eyes, the bruises, even his unmarred skin seems to shine and his hair...
Huh.
Danny’s hair is white. Not blonde. Not platinum. Stark, cold, blinding white.
“Fuck,” Tim breathes, leaning back further to meet that neon gaze. “You are beautiful.”
Danny looks like he might argue with that statement but Tim is determined to get them back on track. He crawls back slowly, running his hands down the cold skin of Danny’s legs, until he is back in the middle of the bed.
He takes a moment to drink in the ethereal sight before him. Danny’s fear and hesitation are long gone but he’s far from the cocky little shit from earlier. His eyes track every move Tim makes as he grips Danny’s ankles and tugs, pulling the other man down the bed and leaning over him with a grin.
Danny shudders and the shadows around the room shudder with him.
Interesting.
The analytical part of Tim’s brain lights up at the promise of a new discovery. There’s so much potential here, he feels almost giddy as he hooks his hands around one ankle, lifts it, and presses a kiss to the jut of bone.
Danny is holding his gaze, panting quietly. Tim grins triumphantly when those glowing eyes flash, literally, and the darkness shudders once again. He lingers there for a moment, kissing slow and reverent, before starting his way upward. Along calf and knee, across the thigh, teeth scraping lightly before soothing with tongue.
When Danny whines it sounds like radio static and makes the hair stand up on the back of Tim’s neck. He pointedly shifts across, skirting the ache of Danny’s erection, and starts the journey down the other side.
Danny groans, low and helpless, more static. His hands fist in the sheets and Tim can hear them begin to tear. It’s Tim’s turn to groan, the sound slipping out against his will as he presses another kiss just above Danny’s ankle.
He pulls back again. Danny’s eyes are wild, his chest heaving, he looks wrecked and Tim lets a smug pride flood in. For a moment he basks in it. Danny is obviously powerful, dangerous even, yet here he lies, wanting, desperate. Completely at Tim’s mercy.
Danny must decide that he is looking a bit too smug, because some things happen and gravity is involved and suddenly Tim finds himself on his back, Danny looming over him. Those wild green eyes spark with hunger and that too-wide grin is sharp, almost feral. A tongue curls out, unnaturally long and-
Holy shit.
Danny doesn’t even need to lean down to lick up the side of Tim’s neck.
Holy shit!
Out of the corner of his eye Tim notices a bottle of lube float over from the night stand. Suspended in a faint green glow, it floats across the room, bobbing weightless through the chill air until it settles neatly in Danny’s waiting hand.
Holy SHIT!
Heat flashes through Tim like wild fire, sudden and all consuming. He feels pre-come drip down his cock as he lets out an honest to god whimper.
Danny pulls back. Tim feels like he might cry.
“Sorry.”
Danny is apologising.
Why is Danny apologising?
Tim is so confused and more turned on than he has ever been in his life. Danny’s face seems to have shrunk a bit, his tongue looks like a regular tongue when it peaks out to nervously wet his lips. Tim whimpers again, and Danny pulls back further.
“Too weird?”
Danny is asking a question.
It takes Tim far too long to realise what Danny is asking. Too weird? What is too weird?
The shadows around the room begin to retreat.
Oh.
Tim feels like an idiot.
“No. Stop that, come back.” He pulls at Danny’s arms, desperately trying to get close again. “More weird, please.”
“What?” Danny’s voice cracks. He still looks and sounds nervous… but he doesn’t pull away.
“Fucking hell, Danny, it’s hot. Everything you’re doing right now is so unbelievably, stupidly hot.” Tim laughs, short and breathless.
Obviously there are some things I need to research tomorrow. On a highly encrypted network Bruce knows better than to hack into.
But that is tomorrow’s problem.
He reaches for the lube, still awkwardly clutched in Danny’s hand. “Still want you in me.”
Danny just stares at him. For a long second he doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink. His expression flickers between confusion, disbelief, and something bright and hungry that makes Tim’s stomach flip.
“You wanted me to beg? Fine. Please, Danny.” Tim lets his voice raise into a whine as he spreads his legs in invitation. “Please, fuck me. Please-”
His voice cuts out in a gasp when he finally, finally, feels the cold, wet press of a finger at his rim.
“Yes.” Tim hisses, tilting his hips to feel it slip inside. Danny’s free hand clamps on his hip and that inhuman strength makes a return appearance and now Tim can’t move.
Yes.
Tim has no idea when he opened and poured out the lube, or where the bottle is now, but Danny’s fingers move in and out smoothly, stretching and massaging, driving any and all coherent thought from Tim’s mind.
Danny goes back to eating Tim alive, kissing and biting, tongue dragging along his skin long and unnatural. He crooks his fingers just right, working deeper, steady and relentless, and Tim writhes beneath him. His back arches, fists clenching in the sheets, every muscle taut with pleasure that borders on too much. He can see the green glow of Danny’s eyes through his closed eyelids and it only makes the heat coil tighter in his gut.
“Fuck- Danny,” he gasps, chest heaving, eyes fluttering open just long enough to meet that neon stare. The look he finds there is so intense, so consuming, it steals the breath from his lungs.
He feels empty when Danny pulls his fingers free. He feels boneless as he is moved, hips lifted by cold hands. He feels electric when Danny settles between his thighs.
It is maybe too soon but Tim is so desperate that he can’t complain as Danny pushes in. Any pain that might have come with the stretch is soothed by the cold anyway.
Danny seems to have decided that the time for teasing is over. He groans, low and feral as he starts up a steady pace, sending sparks of pleasure up Tim’s spine with every thrust.
Every sound that comes out of Danny comes with that radio static, echoing in Tim’s head. Danny’s grin has widened further, his teeth are sharper and his eyes are nearly bugging out of his head. He looks nothing like human now and Tim should probably care. He should probably worry.
That list of things he needs to research tomorrow gets longer.
Danny grabs Tim’s leg and lifts it over his shoulder, changing the angle and suddenly those sparks of pleasure feel more like fireworks.
Tim’s thoughts scatter and for a moment, everything is white noise.
When he comes back to his body Danny is still moving. Slow now, a comforting pressure easing him through the last waves of his orgasm.
Danny leans down, lips brushing Tim’s ear. “Want to go again?”
It should be a simple question.
No, I’m good, give me a minute and I’ll suck you off.
Or, yes, I’ve got another one in me, give me a minute to get it back up.
What Tim feels however, is anything but simple. He doesn’t want a minute.
Danny is still rocking shallowly inside him. It feels like too much and not nearly enough all at once. His skin stings everywhere Danny has marked him. With everything he’s felt tonight, everything he’s learnt, Tim should be sated.
But he isn’t. He wants more. So much more.
He sinks a hand into Danny’s hair and pulls him into a scorching kiss, hoping to convey this feeling without having to pull together too many words.
When they part to breathe Tim does manage a few. “Want you to ruin me.”
Danny’s eyes flash and something in his expression changes. Suddenly and all at once he has both hands in a vice grip on Tim’s hips, lifting him so only his shoulders are resting on the bed.
“You want me to ruin you?” Danny starts up a punishing pace, the angle just right to send almost too much pleasure-pain sparking through Tim. It’s all he can do to throw his hands up, reaching for a pillow or the sheets or something to hold onto.
“Fucking shit, holy- yes, yes, please.” Tim pants. He can feel his own mess dripping down his stomach as his cock twitches and begins to fill again.
“Be careful what you wish for, pretty bird.”
After that, things get a little... blurry.
~
Being the rich trust fund brat he is, nothing in Tim’s apartment is cheap. All his furniture is well built and reasonably sturdy. This is the thought that briefly crosses Tim’s mind as he grips the headboard and he could swear the whole building rattles with the force of Danny’s thrusts.
~
There are hands everywhere. Sometimes it feels like maybe too many hands? Tim doesn’t really feel like counting right now.
~
At one point they get tangled in the sheets and Tim can’t be 100% certain but he thinks someone may have torn them to get free. Regardless, all the bedding has now been banished to the floor for the crime of getting in the way.
Also, they had started this on top of the covers and Tim has definitely lost track of their collective orgasm count. Those sheets should probably be burnt.
~
Eventually Tim’s stamina does begin to wane and he collapses face down on the bed. Danny leans over his back and the feeling of his cock dragging almost all the way out is...
So. Good.
“You good? Still with me?”
Tim hums an affirmative but it doesn’t seem to take, seeing as Danny pulls out and gently rolls him over. That’s not what he wanted, so he digs deep to find his voice.
“Don’t stop. I’m fine. I’m so fucking fine.” The words are slurred but clear enough and he’s confident Danny will understand them. He feels a cold hand slide over his chest and shivers. The cold seems to seep into him, through him. It's soothing in a way and, yeah, maybe he’s a little more battered than he’d like to admit.
“You’re dehydrated, exhausted, and you’ve torn your hamstring. Or more likely I’ve torn your hamstring. Jesus dude, why didn’t you say anything?”
That’s a lot of information. Tim is impressed. He feels like maybe he should be filing that information somewhere.
Did I have a list? Should I be writing something down?
“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m- Hmm. Kiss me?” Danny huffs out a laugh but thankfully moves to obey. His lips are gentle, brushing chastely over Tim’s.
Tim, who can’t quite find the energy to kiss back. He floats under the sensation. Reveling in every chilled point of contact where their bodies touch. Their legs are tangled together, Danny’s hand is still on his chest, their hips...
With herculean effort Tim rolls his own hips up against Danny’s leaking erection. Danny gasps out another incredulous laugh, pulling back to pin Tim in place.
“Dude, I don’t care what you think, you are so done right now.” Tim unfortunately has to agree with the sentiment. He’s not sure he could pull that move again even if Danny wasn’t holding him down.
There is still the matter of Danny’s cock however, Tim glances down at it pointedly. “You’re not.”
“I’m fine.”
Tim knew Danny was considerate but this is a bit ridiculous. They’ve both gotten off more than a few times tonight, and he wouldn’t be able to put a number on it, but the scales definitely tip in Tim’s favour. He doesn’t want Danny to be left hanging but there’s not much he can do, other than lay here and try to look pretty.
He pouts, looking up at Danny through hooded eyes.
Danny swallows thickly.
Well that was easy.
To get his point home he glances down once again and licks his lips. “Please, I want to watch.”
Danny’s eyes are wide as he shakes his head in disbelief. He takes his hands off Tim and wraps one around himself.
“Fucking hell. You’ll be the death of me, you know that.” Danny’s free hand goes to cup Tim’s face, thumb brushing against his lips almost reverently.
Tim smiles softly, leaning into the touch. “I’m sure there are worse ways to die.” He sucks the thumb into his mouth, delighted when Danny’s breath catches.
Tim drifts, eyes closing as he feels Danny begin to move above him. He’s just happy to know Danny is feeling good, happy he had something to do with that. He doesn’t think much about Danny’s reply.
“Don’t I know it.”
It doesn’t take Danny long to spill onto Tim’s chest, adding to the gloriously disgusting mess they are both covered in.
Emphasis on the disgusting.
Tim is still floating. Danny says something about being right back and then he is alone, floating, in the wet patch. The whole bed might be the wet patch actually. It’s something that maybe should concern him but he’s far too gone to care.
Tomorrow Tim can deal with it.
There, problem solved.
Tim isn’t too sure of the order of events as he drifts in and out of awareness. Danny comes back from wherever and maybe hand feeds him a protein bar? He drinks some water and a warm cloth is involved.
The floating feeling gets intense for a bit. He is maybe flying.
Then he is tucked into bed, clean sheets and a warm blanket pulled up around him. The bed dips and he reaches out for Danny.
As Tim drifts further away from consciousness, wrapped in a comforting, cold embrace, he feels happier than he has, probably ever.
This is definitely going to blow up in my face.
Tim being who he is, this is a thought he has with startling regularity. It is usually followed by significant inconvenience, discomfort and, more often than not, something literally blowing up.
For the first time in his life, Tim dares to hope that this time, he is wrong.
But Tim is always right, and the last thought that crosses his mind before he falls into oblivion is...
Fucking worth it.