Work Text:
Tim can’t believe Bruce has done this to him.
He stormed through the back hallways of the manor, away from the Gala, away from-
It’s for the best, Tim .
It was always for the best. Bruce was always just ‘doing what was right’. It didn’t matter what they wanted, he always knew what was best, what he deserved-
You deserve to be a kid, sweetheart.
Tim was 19. Tim was 19 and for the past two fucking years had been the CEO of W.E., one of the biggest companies in the world. Not only did he become the youngest CEO ever (take that Lex) but he’d done it well. Profits only rose under Tim’s management, and while the board disliked him to begin with, as time went on they saw how good he was. How good he could be. Tim had spent most of his life in the shadow of someone, nothing more than a replacement, but at W.E., where Bruce had been nothing more than an air-headed figure who just ‘owned’ everything, Tim was so much more than that. And they saw it! He was complimented by the other workers, even by rival businessmen about how much better at this he was than Bruce. Lucius had even told him once that he was glad he had taken it, despite everything going on at the time.
Too bad Bruce never saw it like that.
Tim had expected it to be taken away. When Bruce… ‘came back’, he’d expected a pat on the back, a “well-done sweetheart”, and an “I’ll take it from here”. Tim expected Bruce to take back the role of CEO and while he knew he’d be upset he was okay with that. But Bruce didn’t. He let Tim keep control and used the time to start sorting some things he’d left to the side too long. Like his relationship with Jason. And with Damian. And with-
Basically, he used it to actually look after his kids.
He even took time out to spend with Tim , when he was free. They went to the museum, they went to the park. He asked about his camera and why Tim wasn’t taking photos as much any more.
(He just didn’t have the time. Between W.E., his cases, patrol, and trying to make it to Sunday brunch every other week he barely had time to sleep . So what, a hobby fell to the side? It wasn’t like it was useful-)
Bruce didn’t like to talk about W.E.. When Tim brought it up, he’d always get a furrow in his brow. Tim just assumed it was because Bruce was never really involved in W.E.- more so than everyone liked to think he was, of course, he had to make sure people weren’t ruining his family’s company, but other than to kick out anyone trying to abuse their power and make sure no one was looking too close to where some of the budget was going, Bruce left most of the work in the worthy hands of Lucius.
Which was why Tim should have known something was up the moment Bruce started to get involved in the company again, after two years of pretending it didn’t exist. When Bruce started sitting in on meetings, Tim was nervous, but Bruce only ever shot him a calm smile, the patented “I’m proud” smile that was only brought out for school reports or clever plans. He never really spoke in those meetings, though Tim caught him chatting with Lucius afterwards, so Tim never really thought about it. Didn’t think about the other meetings he caught Bruce in, the extra time he seemed to be spending around W.E. tower. Didn’t think about any of it because-
You’re a kid, Tim, you deserve to do kid things.
So he’d taken it away like it was easy. Like it hadn’t meant so much to him, like he hadn’t poured so much time and effort into it-
It’s for the best.
He didn’t even get to be told , no he had to find out about it from a board member, at a fucking gala.
It’s a shame your old man’s taking your place again, you were so much better at it.
Were. like he was already gone.
Once Philips had let that slip, he’d immediately gone to find Bruce. He ignored about 4 calls of his name, one he was even sure was Dick, before he found the man laughing with a couple of other board members.
( Laughing at him? How he could think he’d ever stay on as CEO, how it wasn’t a game for children it was a fucking company? Laughing at-)
It’s for the best.
That's what Bruce had said when Tim took him aside (because Tim knew not to talk about this shit in public, not like Philips). Had just given him that furrowed brow and said that Tim was 19 (an adult!) and that he deserved to be a kid.
No one had said that when he’d taken the company. No one had said that when he’d put himself in spandex and Kevlar.
Why now? After all these years did Bruce care about how Tim was spending his time? Why now did Tim have to be a kid, when he was finally a fucking adult?
It’s for the best.
Tim needed air. He switched course- god knows where he was going before- down to the kitchen? To Alfred, who would comfort him, who would make him hot chocolate and-
Who probably already knew Bruce’s plan, in the creepy, comforting way he always knew what his adopted son was doing. He probably agreed with it. He had been commenting recently about how little he got out, how little he saw his family, his friends (what friends?).
Tim needed air.
Wayne Manor had about 15 different balconies, verandas, and porch entrances which Bruce complained about to high hell when sorting out security defences but worked out for Tim now as he slipped through a forgotten-about guest room and onto a balcony that he knew was far from the view of the where the gala spilt outside. He quickly shut the door behind him, leaning his forehead against the opaque glass of the door and taking in a deep breath. He can’t believe this. He’d taken on W.E. to prevent a coup, and now he was the one being ousted? By his own dad who thought it was for the-
“Did you want me to go?”
The deep breath Tim was taking got caught in his lungs as he realised he was not alone. Stupid. So caught up in his head he hadn’t realised there was someone else on the balcony. Tim turned around to work out how much he’d fucked up, letting someone see his little breakdown.
Shit.
There, in all his rebellious glory, was Conner Luthor. Dressed to the nines in what was probably a full Gucci suit, leaning up against the balcony railing smoking (god what would Alfred say). His signature sunglasses were pushed up into his black curls, letting Tim see those soft blue eyes that always reminded him too much of Clark.
Conner was a complicated topic in the Justice League. Most of the time, he seemed to want to be a hero, helping out during emergencies and natural disasters as his alter ego- “Superboy”. But then he’d help his dad by distracting Superman, making the other man fight him. It always made it hard to work with him after that.
(Last year, Tim had been instructed to distract Conner during a fight with Luthor. He had done it pretty well, he thought, even if he’d ended up pinned for most of it. Afterwards, when Tim was awkward and stuttering, Bruce had taken it to mean that Tim felt he hadn’t done enough and had congratulated him on how well he’d dealt with the situation. Dick, a much more knowing older brother, later took him aside and gave him the start of the “it's okay to be attracted to the bad guys” talk before Tim had shut his bedroom door on him).
He’s not dressed up in his tight hero costume at the moment, but that doesn’t stop Tim from remembering the way Conner had felt pressed up against him, whispering Come on Rob, aren’t you going to try harder than that?
(Conner still calls him Robin, no matter how much it pissed Damian off. Maybe that was the point).
Conner raised an eyebrow at him, and Tim realised he never replied to his original question. Tim coughed, finally getting a proper breath in before saying- “No, it’s- it’s fine.” Smooth, Drake. He then gestured to the cigarette, “You shouldn’t smoke.”
He smirked at that before he took a long drag, blowing out perfect smoke rings like it was the easiest thing to do. “What’s it going to do, kill me?” To anyone else, that might seem depressing, maybe a cry for help. But Tim knows better. Knows that it can’t, so instead he gets that it's just him being fucking smug.
“I don’t care about you, Luthor,” Tim replies, “I'm more worried about what the tar will do to Alfred’s walls.” It’s a joke… mostly.
Conner snorted, and a puff of smoke blew out of his nostrils like a dragon. It made him seem dangerous. “Well, can’t have dear Alfred’s walls getting fucked up.” He stumped out the cigarette, before flicking it off the balcony, into the dark.
“Oh, so you care about the walls but not the roses?” Tim retorted, this one much less of a joke than the last. Alfred loved his roses.
Conner rolled his eyes at him but doesn’t reply. Instead, he went back to leaning against the balcony, arms crossed in front of him. The bickering had calmed Tim down a bit and helped him think clearly. He leaned back against the doors and looked out towards the Wayne's ground. This side of the house looks towards Gotham proper, as the gala was mostly spread out into the back garden. As a kid, living next door, Tim loved the view but hated it as well. It was just another way to feel lonely, so far from the city. Moving to the Manor removed that loneliness and gave him a family who-
It’s for the best.
Fuck.
How could Bruce take it away? Like it was a toy, like it was a-
“Look, if you're not going to let me smoke you might as well tell me what's wrong, keep me entertained,” Conner said, turning around to look at Tim.
“I’m fine,” Tim gritted out, which made Conner give a sharp laugh.
“Sure, and I’m Superman.” Conner walked over to where Tim was leaning against the doors and leaned next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Tim should shrug him off, but the weight is nice, almost grounding. “Come on, who better to tell than your dad’s worst enemy’s son? So what is it? Girl issues? Mommy issues- wait you don’t have one of those-” harsh, “-daddy issues?” And maybe, maybe Conner was just good at reading people, or maybe Bruce’s notes on Kryptonians also expanded to Conner and he could hear heartbeats and subtle changes because Tim swore he didn’t make any move when Conner said that, but he smirked anyway. Conner’s grip on his shoulder changed and grew tighter for a second almost like a half hug. “What did he do?”
Tim didn’t know what it was about how Conner asked that. Whether it was the arm around his shoulder, pulling him close, or the smell of smoke that was still in the air. Or maybe it was just Tim’s anger at Bruce that made it all come spilling out.
(Maybe, looking back, Tim thinks it might have been his massive fucking crush )
“He just, he just treats me like a kid, ” Tim started, and once he does he can’t stop, “All the time, like knows better. Like I haven’t been running his fucking company for two years. And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if he asked first, if he had talked to me about it, but he just goes ahead and does it, like- like he-”
“Like he knows best?” Conner finished for him
It’s for the best.
“Yeah,” and as he agreed with Conner he slumped, drifting closer towards the other man. “Like he knows best.”
Conner was silent for a moment, clearly thinking about what he wanted to say. “My dad’s a bit like that,” he decided, “But also, the opposite. He’s never treated me like a kid- even when I guess I technically was one. Demanded I act more mature and that. He always thought he knew what was best though, for me and everything. Never really let me live my life, ya know?”
Tim… didn’t. He got it in theory and could see how controlling Luthor probably was but had never experienced that himself. He had gone from absent parents to Bruce Wayne, who was now so insistent on Tim living his own life that he’d taken away the one thing he’d done with it.
“That sucks,” Tim said, not thinking of a better way to put it. It got Conner to smile though, and Tim would call that a win. They stand there for another 5 minutes, both lost in their heads about their asshole dads, before Conner had had enough of thinking about it.
“Want to get out of here?” Conner asked, and Tim just looked up at him, confused.
“And do what?” Conner shrugged.
“Clubbing?” That surprised Tim. He’d seen on the news that Conner had been caught a couple of times, underage in nightclubs drinking, but he’d never thought Conner would ask him to go with him.
“We’re 19…” Tim replied, and Conner rolled his eyes at him.
“So? What places in this city take ID in the form of 50 dollar bills?” Tim could probably name a few, just because they're the ones to keep an eye out on patrol. Usually places like that don’t stop at breaking one rule.
Tim thought about saying no. Thought about shrugging Conner’s arm off his shoulder, walking back down to the gala where Bruce-
It’s for the best.
Well, Bruce did say he wanted Tim to be more of a kid, right?
_____
Tim was the opposite of impulsive, mainly because when he was impulsive he made very bad decisions. This was proven immediately when they had got into the taxi, and so desperate to not let Conner say the fucking Iceberg Lounge like had been discussing as they had waited, he’d pulled out the first club from his head that Bruce wouldn’t ground him forever for being in.
(Just because this whole thing was to piss off Bruce, didn’t mean Tim had a death wish. If they went into Penguin’s territory there was no saving him from the lectures that would come out from there)
So instead, he’d said Heaven.
Heaven was mostly on the Bat's radar because it had recently gone from ‘cesspit of crime’ to ‘college kids doing coke’ thanks to an overhaul in management. Since it’s usually the opposite in the city, they were keeping an eye out in case of anything untoward, but they hadn’t yet.
It was also a gay bar.
Tim knew Luthor had… certain opinions on certain topics, though he was always quite reserved when asked direct questions. Tim didn’t know how Conner felt about it and was concerned for a moment after they stepped out of the taxi that he was about to get hate-crimed. Conner didn’t say anything though as they waited in line to get in. Not about the rainbow posters on the outside walls, or the very obvious drag queen in front of them.
Then again, Tim was publicly out as Trans, even if most of the papers seem to forget it these days. He’s sure Luthor wouldn’t of, though.
Waiting in line it was very obvious how overdressed they were. A point is proven by said drag queen who was in shorts shorter than Dick Grayson's original Robin’s outfit. Tim pulled his tie off, shoving it into a back pocket and then unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. (The fact that he might consider this “letting loose” was probably not a good sign.) Conner caught on to what he was doing though and followed suit, taking off his ( Gucci ) jacket and tying it around his waist, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his biceps. He also took off his tie and then undid every single button on his shirt.
Altogether, Conner no longer looked like he’d just snuck out of a Gala. Altogether, Tim was fucked. With his shirt open it revealed all that unblemished tanned skin. While he didn’t have the stereotypical ‘washboard abs’ Tim could tell he was almost all muscle, more similar to that of a weightlifter than a bodybuilder. Meaning he could probably throw Tim across the room, superstrength be damned.
Tim tried not to think about how hot that was.
All in all, Conner knew a lot more about loosening up than Tim did, and by the time they reached the front of the line was ready to start the night.
The two bouncers at the door barely glanced at Conner, but did give Tim a once over before asking for their IDs. Tim’s sure if Conner didn’t just hand them over a $100 bill they might have asked about what Tim was wearing, but instead, they ushered the both of them inside.
Tim was used to breaking laws since vigilantism is still a big no-no in most states, but this was the first time he’d broken a law that wasn’t for his night job. This felt kind of… wrong
(And with that thought, he realised why most of his family called him a buzz kill. Fuck.)
When they walked into the main room, the only way TIm could truly describe it was sensory overload. He could hear the music outside, but now stuck in it he could feel the bass in his chest. The smell of salty sweat and sweet alcopops was so strong he could taste it. The flashing lights filled the room, glistening off the sweat and the glitter of the people dancing, changing colour so often that despite the brightness it was difficult to see. Tim just stood, slightly to the side of the entrance so he wouldn’t block anyone else on their way in, and took it in. There haven’t been many times that Tim has felt over his head in a situation, but this may be one of them.
(He can fight Ra’s al Ghul by himself in a desert but can’t deal with a bunch of sweaty gays in a club. That just sums up Tim in a nutshell.)
The only good thing right now was that Conner didn’t seem to mind, leaning close to Tim and also just taking in the room. If Tim was having a bit of a sensory overload he doesn’t know how Conner was dealing with it, due to the superhearing and all. Despite it though he seemed happy, smiling out towards the crowd before his gaze eventually wound its way to Tim. When it settled on him, Conner’s smile grew wider, and he leaned forward to speak in Tim’s ear.
“Let’s get a drink?” he asked, gesturing over to the bar, and Tim just gave a short nod in reply.
Tim went to start walking over when Conner’s hand found its way to the small of his back, palm flat. He didn’t quite jump when it happened, but Conner at least noticed the little jolt that went through him when it did- if Tim interpreted the raised eyebrow sent his way correctly. On the one hand, Tim appreciated the gesture. It was nice to know that Conner was there and that he wasn’t going to abandon him to the wolves, but also it was Conner’s hand on a part of his body. Suddenly he was glad for the multicoloured flashing lights, as it might be the only thing that hid his blush from someone with enhanced eyesight.
The bar advertised multiple different fruity drinks named with dirty innuendos, and for someone who has only ever had champagne it was hard to decide, so by the time the bartender came round to ask what they wanted, Conner seemed to take pity on him and ordered two vodka cokes.
As the guy left to make them, Conner leaned over to talk to him, getting close so he didn’t have to shout. He never moved his hand from his back. “You really never been out drinking before?”
Tim shrugged. “Ignoring the… obvious reason not to,” might be best not to mention the underage thing near the bartender as he returned with their drinks, even if bribery was rampant here, “it just wasn’t something I was interested in.”
Conner tilted his head to the side as he thought about what to say next, and all Tim could think of was how adorable that was like he was a puppy wondering what was going on. “Your dad’s a big player though, and I remember some of the stories about Dick back in the day.” Tim rolled his eyes at the thought of Brucie Wayne.
“Just because some members of my family do it, doesn’t mean I enjoy it,” He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink as he did.
“So why come out with me tonight?” Conner asked.
Because I have a crush on you. Tim very much did not say. “Because you asked nicely,” he settled on instead.
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say though, because Conner grinned, a bright blinding thing that for someone who spent way too much time with the Joker was almost creepy. He leaned forward, getting extra close to the point that he rested his chin on Tim’s shoulder, their faces almost touching. “Aw, is that all it takes?” He asked sweetly, “Me, bashing my eyelashes and saying ‘pwetty pwease’, just to get you to do what I want?” Tim blushed deeply, his face turning red hot. He opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. Luckily, he was saved by the music changing. No longer the traditional drum and base of a rave but instead becoming a Gay Club staple.
ABBA.
Conner’s head shot up just as the noise from the dance floor became a roar of cacophonous screams, excited as people started to move to the opening notes of Mamma Mia . Conner was just as excited and turned to look at Tim with a wide grin. He didn’t even speak a word, but Tim knew what he wanted.
“Conner-” Tim started. He didn’t particularly want to go to the dance floor, not until at least another four drinks so he could forget about the crowd. But the hand on Tim’s back stroked up and then slowly down his arm, before interlocking their fingers together. Conner started tugging on it, walking backwards as he made his way to the crowd, and Tim, so caught up in everything, couldn’t help but follow.
Despite the dance floor being packed, Tim found he didn’t mind, as long as Conner kept those blue eyes on him and that hand in his. Dancing along the ABBA, singing loud and out of tune along with everyone else, it felt nice. For once he didn’t worry about anything else. Conner pulled him closer towards the end of the song, wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulder while the other kept ahold of his drink. He quietened his voice so he wasn’t screaming the words in Tim’s ear, but he still sang My, my, how could I resist you?
Tim noticed then that while Conner was getting all close and personal in his space, no one else was. It wasn’t until someone almost stumbled on an invisible wall that Tim realised that Conner was probably using his TTK to give them a bit of space. It was stupid, using his powers like that, especially since he doesn’t know that Tim knows, but it was nice to know that Conner also didn’t like the crowd pushing up against them too, and with that, Tim couldn’t help but sing with Conner now, as I could never let you go.
The end of the song was ruined by a buzzing coming from Tim’s phone. He couldn’t hear the ringtone over the noise in the club, but as he pulled it out of his pocket he knew that the ringtone that Dick had picked for himself (Circus, by Britney) would fit in here well.
What does he want? Tim thought, and he realised then that he hadn’t looked at his phone since he’d left the gala. Tim looked up at Conner, who was already looking back at him with an eyebrow raised.
“I have to get this!” Tim said to Conner, and though his words were drowned out as Believe by Cher started to play, he saw the other man nod and he lifted his arm from around his shoulders.
“I’ll wait here!” Conner shouted back, taking Tim’s drink off him. As Tim pulled away and started making his way towards the bathrooms, he glanced back to notice that the crowd were no longer kept back from Conner, and were starting to dance up against him as he did the same. This meant he was keeping the distance for Tim.
He couldn’t think about it for long as he walked into the bathroom and moved swiftly past the people doing coke off the sinks. He slunk into the back cubicle and, while staring at all the various numbers carved into the stall, answered his brother's call.
“Hey Dick,” he answered, praying that he couldn’t hear much other than Tim through the phone.
“Hey Tim,” Dick replied, sounding despondent. “I… heard about what happened with Bruce.” Of course, that was why he was calling, had probably wheedled the conversation out of Bruce not long after Tim stormed off.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tim said sharply, but Dick huffed out a sigh and continued anyway.
“Look- I’m not saying Bruce wasn’t wrong, because going behind your back was a very Bad Bruce thing to do but-”
“But nothing!” Tim shouted back, “I was happy, with W.E., with everything! I don’t see why it had to change.”
“Tim it was all you did, outside nightwork, it wasn’t healthy!” Dick argued back, “You forgot your own goddamn birthday!” Of course, he had to bring that up. He hadn’t meant to, it was just a deal that needed to be sorted between W.E. and a competitor that had screwed them over before, and a case had been harder than usual, one that was so similar to one of Jason’s but slightly to the left, almost like someone was doing it on purpose, and then, of course, Riddler got out and Tim’s always been one of the best at solving his puzzles, so he took that on so Steph could focus on her studies. Of course, with all of that, he’d forgotten the date. And the party his family had planned for him, crashing back at his apartment.
Was that the turning point for Bruce? When he’d decided that Tim could no longer handle this himself? Because he’d forgotten one fucking party?
(Of course, this wasn’t the only time this had happened, just the first time it had been noticed).
“It’s my life! I should be allowed to decide what to do with it! Not have you take it away just because you decide it's for the fucking best!”
(It’s for the best Tim, Damian needs it more than you. )
And that’s what it really boils down to, isn’t it? Another thing that Tim loved and cherished and poured everything into, is stolen away because it’s for the best.
“Did you know.” Tim asked suddenly, needing to know, if his brother was in on this as well, if he’d planned it.
The silence was damning enough.
“Fuck you,” Tim spat down the phone, and to get his point across, hung up. He stormed out of the bathrooms back towards the dancefloor, and before he even had to start looking for Conner he was there.
“Well, it doesn’t seem like good news you got,” Conner joked as he passed Tim his drink back, but it fell flat and Tim just deflated. He leaned into Conner’s chest, needing some sort of comfort out of all this. Conner brought his arms around Tim and they stand there, slightly swaying, as Smalltown Boy plays ironically over the club.
Tim rested his free hand on Conner’s hip, gently stroking his thumb back and forth and trying very hard not to think about everything going on. He’d come out here, whether to distract himself or to get back at Bruce, and it felt like he’d achieved neither. He stood on his toes so he could speak into Conner’s ear. “Sometimes I feel like my family doesn’t understand me.” It was harsh, but it was the truth.
He felt the short laugh Conner gave out at that, and the other man replied “I know my family doesn’t understand me.” It caused Tim to lean back and actually look at Conner. Conner who tried to help in every way he could, but when it came to his dad he couldn’t do anything but help him. Who had snuck Tim out of a gala just to drag him out clubbing, but then made sure that no one touched them while they were dancing. Who had soft blue eyes that were so similar to Clark's but had just the hint of Luthor’s ice-cold stare. Who had Luthor’s chin and Clark’s curls and his own dimples and who was-
Kissing him. Conner was kissing him.
It was so soft and sweet and completely contrasted by the fact that It’s Raining Men had started to play, which meant that Tim’s brain took its sweet time computing the fact that Conner Luthor was kissing him. When it finally realised what the press of lips meant it quickly took action, and Tim kissed him back, eyelashes fluttering shut as Conner pulled him closer.
They stayed like that for a bit, trading gentle kisses before Conner seemed to have enough, biting softly on Tim’s lower lip which caused him to gasp. Suddenly the gentle kisses became a lot hotter, and the hands that were resting on his back started to explore. One of those hands went down to grasp at Tim’s ass, squeezing slightly and making him grind his hips forward. The slight swaying they were doing was gone, now become a filthy grind. Not wanting to be outdone, Tim got a leg between Conner’s and pressed his thigh up into his crotch. He could feel the heat between his clothes, and the way Conner was starting to get hard. Tim reached his free hand up and underneath the unbuttoned shirt to gently rub his thumb over one of Conner’s nipples. He gasped and used the opportunity to pull away from the kiss, leaning forward to speak in Tim’s ear. In almost exactly the same tone as he had earlier, Conner asked Tim-
“Want to get out of here?”
This time Tim didn’t even ask what they were going to do, intwinging his fingers with Conner’s before leading him across the Dancefloor, and out back into the night.
----
Tim didn’t live too far from the night district, which meant they didn’t have to traumatise a poor taxi driver when they started making out in the back of their car (not that, in Gotham, a taxi driver hasn’t seen worse). Making out was not constructive to walking though, so they had to live with holding hands down the main street with the occasional peck as they walked (That didn’t stop Conner from pinning him up to the traffic light post at the crossing though, while they waited for the light to go).
When they finally made it to Tim’s apartment block, Tim was vibrating out of his own skin from the tension wound up from the walkover and Conner didn’t seem much better off. He immediately opened the door after Tim put his code in, crowding him towards the elevator. Tim told him the floor number so he could push it in, which gave Tim the perfect angle to get back at him for the light post incident and pin Conner up against the wall, narrowly missing the buttons.
Conner grabbed onto Tim’s shoulders as Tim kissed him, quickly turning it hot and wet as their lips parted. Tim placed his hands on Conner's hips and encouraged him to grind against him just like in the club. Conner's arms slipped further down his back, holding him close, before suddenly turning them around so Tim was now against the wall. Conner crowded up even closer making sure there was no gap between them, and Tim thought about fighting it, keeping himself in control, but after a moment he just let him, basically melting into the wall.
Conner pulled away slightly, pressing hot, wet kissing along his cheek until just like in the club he spoke into his ear.
“Come on Tim, aren’t you going to try harder than that?”
( “Come on Rob, aren’t you going to try harder than that?” The reminder of that fight sent a shiver up Tim’s spine as he remembered just who exactly had him pinned up against a wall.)
Tim’s saved from answering by the elevator reaching his floor, and then it's the both of them pulling and pushing on each other, stumbling the few feet from the elevator to his door. Tim had Conner up against the door for a brief second, before he realised that he was the one with the keys and that might be a bad move. When he took a step back, Conner quickly stepped behind him, pulling Tim’s back to his front, and while this gave Tim much better access to his door it did nothing to make it easy to open it.
Who knew opening a very securely locked door with a hot man pressed directly up against his back and pressing kisses down his neck would be hard?
They spill into Tim’s apartment and it's a miracle neither land on the floor. Once the door slams shut behind them they’re both back on each other, and with the privacy they are now granted they both get started and pull the other's clothes off. Conner’s got a head start, shirt already undone from the club, so all Tim had to do was slide it down his arms and it landed on the floor alongside his jacket. Conner had a lot more work to do getting Tim undressed, so while he unbuttoned his shirt, Tim pulled him along by a hand on his hip towards the bedroom.
When Tim’s knees finally met the bed, he sat down, greeted with the sight of Conner’s chest right in front of him. He spread his legs so Conner could stand in between them, pulling him close. He kissed along the panes of his stomach, leaning up to take a nipple in his mouth and suck on it. Conner moaned, long and loud, twisting a hand into Tim’s hair to keep him close. Tim used his tongue to lap at Conner’s nipple as his hands roamed the rest of his chest. He used his nails, not to scratch, but to gently run along the skin, a contrasting feeling to that of Tim’s mouth. By the shiver it earned him, and the gasp when a nail caught on his other bud, Conner liked that.
Conner pulled him back and started to nudge at his shoulder to encourage Tim back onto the bed. Instead, Tim pushed Conner slightly, and when the other man moved, he leaned down to finally take his shoes off. Conner quickly followed and kicked his shoes off too. He continued with his socks and his trousers, not making a show of it at all. Not that it didn’t still distract Tim, who barely had his own socks off by the time Conner came barrelling back into him. This time, he let the man corral him back onto his bed, crawling backwards up the mattress until his head hit the pillow.
Conner followed, kissing up Tim’s chest in an almost mimicry of what Tim was doing to him just a few moments earlier, though he was much quicker with it. He continued up Tim’s neck pressing little kisses, sucking gently on the pulse point underneath his jaw. Tim groaned, and twisted his arms around Conner’s shoulders, keeping him close. Conner pressed a kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, until finally reaching his destination and pulling Tim into a kiss. It was quick, much like the rest of the evening had been, and he pulled back slightly.
“What do you want?” Conner asked.
Tim paused. Unsurprisingly this was his first one-night stand (was it a one-night stand? Could you call it that if you don’t know if you’ll do it again?) and he wasn’t exactly prepared for this. In all honestly, Tim couldn’t really remember the last time he’d had sex.
(Hell of a way to end a dry spell)
“I don’t have condoms so… I could jerk you off?” He offered. Tim reached his hand one of his hands downwards, but Conner caught it.
“Yeah, sure,” Conner replied, contradicting his actions. Tim watched his face as he thought hard about something before Conner looked at him directly, “Can I blow you?”
“Uh… you know I don’t… have that?” and shit, Tim was so sure Conner would have known, that Lex would have said something he was out publicly and if Conner had assumed-
“Yeah, I know. Can I still blow you?” He said it so casually, and all the panic building up in Tim left him in an instant. He blushed and nodded, “Yeah, yeah that's fine.” Conner grinned, beaming up at him.
He took Tim’s hand that was in his and brought it up to his hair and encouraged him to grasp it.
“Hold on,” he said before he winked at him.
Conner wasted no time in getting him undressed, moving backwards to lie between his legs, but once Tim was bare he took his time. He kissed gently up each thigh before lifting each one over his shoulders. Finally, he pressed a kiss to Tim’s clit. “Tell me if I do something you don’t like yeah?” Tim nodded and twisted his fingers tighter into Conner’s curls.
Tim couldn’t believe this was happening. Here he was, with Conner fucking Luthor between his thighs. Conner sucked on Tim’s clit, bringing it into his mouth and gently tracing his tongue around the tip. Tim moaned and tipped his head back, digging it into the pillows. This had to be a dream. A very, very wet dream. Conner moved lower, constantly kissing. He kissed softly and licked at Tim’s cunt, before moving back to his clit. The gentleness contrasted with the hot making out that led up to this sending Tim’s head reeling. Though that just might have been Conner’s mouth.
Tim started to grind up into his mouth, holding onto Conner’s hair for dear life. One of Conner’s hands gripped onto his hip and encouraged the grind and he began to match his movements to it. Slowly the kissing and the sucking made way to a mix of little kitten licks, quick around his clit, and longer broad strokes. Conner’s other hand made its way up his chest, tracing muscle lines and old scars before making its way to his nipples. He was gentle here as well, rubbing softly to harden one before moving onto the other.
Whether it was because it had been a while or because Conner was just that good, Tim’s was getting close to the edge fast. That feeling at the bottom of his stomach started to twist in anticipation. He gave out another long moan as Conner switched back to sucking on his clit. “ Conner… ” his name was less of a word and more of a groan. He pulled on Conner’s hair and he moaned back, the vibrations feeding back through Tim’s cunt.
Conner moved his hand from where it played with Tim’s nipples to circle along the outside of Tim’s cunt, never entering but getting wet and giving just enough stimulation. He moved them back, and now he left wet and sticky marks as he traced Tim’s nipples once again. With that new feeling, Tim couldn’t help but moan, giving a soft “yes” as Conner twisted one.
Tim glanced down, and that view of his own chest, sticky with his own mess, Conner between his thighs as he encouraged Tim to keep grinding, would be enough to break a weak-willed man.
Tim lasted another few seconds until Conner glanced up at him, and he broke.
His hips stuttered, getting those last bits of stimulation as he whined . The hand tangled in Conner’s hair twisted harder while the free hand twisted into the sheets. That feeling in his stomach snapped and filled him with a rush of endorphins. All the thoughts from that evening, every fight and every bit of anger bled out of him and he just collapsed backwards into the sheets.
Conner continued to kiss his clit and cunt as he came, not pulling back until Tim finally caught his breath afterwards. He grinned up at him, mouth shiny from where he’d gone down on Tim, and Tim couldn’t help himself. He used the hand that was still tangled in Conner's hair to pull him up, dropping his legs from Conner’s shoulders so he could kiss him. He wasn’t unused to the taste of himself but there was something about it being Conner that made him groan. Or maybe that was just because of the fact that Conner Luthor just ate him out.
Not one to leave someone else hanging, Tim slid his hands down Conner's back and beneath his boxers, dragging them down. He let Conner kick them off and reached around to grab Conner’s dick. It was thick and hot in his hand and Conner pulled away from the kiss to moan, giving Tim a chance to have a look at him. Tim was glad they hadn’t gone for penetration tonight because Jesus was Conner packing. But then, with how wet and messy Conner had left him, even with his size he’d probably slip right in.
Tim moved his hand up and down quickly, being a lot less gentle with Conner than he was with him but with how the other man started to fuck his fist he didn’t think he was complaining.
“Fuck, yes, Just like that,” Conner groaned as Tim repeated his earlier trick, using his nail on the upstroke to just run over the tip of his cock. Conner buried his face in Tim’s neck. He began kissing it but quickly gave up, instead just breathing hotly into the crease.
Tim grabbed Conner’s hip with his other hand, helping him thrust in time with his fist. He also encouraged him to thrust deeper, so that the tip rubbed up against Tim’s stomach, catching on his belly button. Tim kissed along Conner’s shoulder in front of him, gently using his teeth, safe with the knowledge that we wouldn’t leave any marks on him/.
“Yes, please, ” Conner moaned in response. Tim could feel the sheets move where his hands must be twisted up in them.
Tim could feel as Conner’s thrust became more erratic and knew he must be getting close. “Come on Conner,” Tim whispered in his ear. he dragged the hand from his hip up his back, scratching his nails hard enough that would leave marks on anyone else. “Come on, be good.”
Whether it was that comment or just how close he was, Conner tipped over the edge and spilt all over Tim’s stomach. He bit on Tim’s shoulder but that didn’t quiet the moan that rattled through his chest. Tim kept moving his hand even after Conner stopped thrusting, not letting go until Conner started to jerk his hips away.
“Sorry,” Conner said, pressing a kiss where he bit. It’ll probably mark.
“It’s okay, I’m good with make-up, and it's not that high anyway.” Conner gave him a weird look at that, but Tim decided to continue as he had done for most of this evening and not think about it, leaving up to kiss Conner. Conner kept himself above Tim but lowered himself so he was on his forearms. They made out slowly, with no rush to what they were doing, until Conner leaned down enough that their stomachs met, and the mess that was across Tim’s chest made itself known again.
Conner pulled back with a grimace. “Do you have-”
“I’ll get a wet cloth from the bathroom,” Tim said, pushing gently at Conner’s shoulder. He scurried over to the ensuite, not even daring to turn on the light in there and catch himself in the mirror. Whatever he looked like was a tomorrow Tim problem.
When he came back out, Conner was sat on the edge of his bed having put his boxers back on. He seemed nervous, almost drawn back in on himself, unlike who he was for the entire rest of the evening.
“Do you want me to go?” he asked, gesturing towards the door.
Tim hadn’t been able to string together a proper coherent thought since he came and was purposely avoiding them now he had calmed down. He quickly wiped down his front before pushing Conner back up the bed, doing the same to him.
“Gotham’s dangerous late at night, best to stay,” he said, and the nervous energy from Conner disapparated quickly, instead he reached up and brought Tim into his arms.
It was a tangle of limbs and a couple of accidental elbows getting under the sheets, but they managed to do it, Conner pressed closely to Tim’s back, keeping him in his arms. They didn’t talk, just quietly cuddled until they both fell asleep.
___
Tim woke in the morning, with Superboy pressed up against his back, wondering what the fuck he might have gotten himself into.
He also prayed none of his siblings had decided to visit.
Fuck.