Set Free


Rating: PG-15
Summary: Robin's not allowed to tell the truth. Kon's okay with that.


It had been building between them for a while now, Tim knew…but he'd never expected it to happen like this.

He'd never, actually, expected it to happen at all.

"Mister Sarcastic, huh?" Kon said, giving him a roll of his eyes, the corner of his mouth curled up in a lazy smirk.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," Tim snarked back, lounging against the wall with the air of someone who knew just how lucky the wall was.

Kon certainly seemed to think so. Tim…wasn't sure what to make of that. Just because Kon flirted with everyone – including, maybe especially, him – didn't mean…

Kon sauntered over to stand in front of him. "Mmm, but what if I want to wear you out?" he drawled, eyeing Tim with predatory languor. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the oh-so-lucky wall, bracketing Tim with his arms.

…or maybe it did. Maybe… Tim gulped, inwardly stunned, but outwardly 'Mr. Sarcastic' appeared calm. "I'd say that you should be careful what you want," he replied, smirking up at Kon.

"Because I just might get…it?" Kon asked with a lazy grin, one hand trailing its way from Tim's collarbone, across the leather and mesh of his shirt, down to the growing bulge in his tight green pants.

Tim's breath caught in his throat, causing his eyes to close at the oh-so-sweet pressure. Forget staying in character; at that very moment in time, he couldn't even think beyond wanting…wanting more. Wanting more of Kon.

Maybe he should go with that, and quit second-guessing himself all the time. "Depends," Tim finally murmured, eyes opening and staring directly at Kon. "On whether I want to…give it to you," he finished, giving Kon a sultry look from underneath his eyelashes.

Kon hadn't ever looked this serious, not even when he'd found out he wouldn't ever age. "Do you?" he asked, giving Tim a searching look.

They weren't playing anymore.

Finding that he couldn't speak past the emotions welling up inside of him, Tim simply nodded. He wanted to give Kon everything, everything he was, everything he wasn't…everything he could.

Kon gave him one short, yet seemingly endless, hesitant look, and then kissed him.

Tim had never been kissed like that before. Like the other person was drowning, and he was air, like they were trying to devour all of him. He felt like he was drowning in Kon; he couldn't get enough air, wanting only more of those drugged-sweet kisses. Tim couldn't hold back a whimper as Kon ground hard against him in counterpoint to the sharp sucks he gave Tim's tongue.

Knowing nothing but Kon's kisses, Tim was at first surprised, then relieved, and finally worried when he felt Kon's TTK wrap around him. It took him a moment to think and realize that they were moving. Where, he didn't know, but presumably out of the hallway, where anyone could wander by and see them.

See them do what, Tim wouldn't let himself wonder about. Were they really going to…? And if so, should they?

Tim didn't know, that was the truth. And he was tired of lying to himself – and everyone else, especially Kon – about everything else.

Before Tim knew it, Kon had tugged him all the way to one of the bedrooms; Tim neither knew nor cared which one. Kon pulled his aura back and laid Tim back on the bed. He then disappeared momentarily to remove his boots.

Tim lay there for a moment, just panting for breath, staring up at the ceiling and trying to make his world stop spinning. The soft cotton of rumpled sheets underneath him gave away the fact that it was Kon's room they were in; the bed in his room was made up with hospital corners and the sheets were stiff and starched.

This bed was a lot more comfortable than his own; warm and inviting, just like its owner. Tim wondered if he'd have to leave it to slink back to his own that night, but before he could start to seriously think about it, Kon was using his TTK to wiggle him out of the fur-trimmed cape. Once Tim was clad in nothing his barely-there shirt and painted on pants, Kon kissed him again. It was rather worrying that he couldn't think while being kissed by Kon, but it wasn't as if it was a situation that would come up during battle that often, if ever.

Tim wondered if this situation would ever happen again, in battle or out. He tried to tell himself to just enjoy the moment, but he'd never been good at not worrying about what the future brought. It was getting easier, however, the more aroused he got.

Kon was…really good at that. So much so that it took Tim a moment of not being kissed to figure out why Kon had stopped. The feel of not-really prickles moving across his face gave it away: Kon's TTK had snuck up underneath the skullcap he was wearing. It was removed with more care than Tim would have given Kon credit for, considering the intensity of the situation. Once it was off, Tim was sure he would end up looking like he had the disguise version of helmet hair.

How could he be thinking of inconsequential details like that, when Kon was touching him? How could he be thinking at all, was a better question.

"How much of this is really you?" Kon asked curiously, finger tracing the outline of the lock and key tattoo on his left arm. The thumb of his other hand caressed the pulse point of Tim's wrist, causing lust to unfurl inside of him, scattering his thoughts even wider than before.

"I…" Tim was never entirely himself; whether he was being Timothy Drake or Robin, there was always some part of him that was…removed from the situation at hand. Some part of himself that he wasn't sure was real.

But this was Kon, and Kon was probably just asking if this was what he really looked like, and he'd decided to stop second-guessing himself for the moment… Ripping the fake goatee from his face with nary a flinch, Tim said, "Aside from the tattoos…pretty much all of it."

"Mm, you are pretty," Kon murmured as he mouthed Tim's collarbones, proving that he hadn't been giving Tim's words all of his attention.

Kon's attention was currently devoted to removing Tim's clothes in as tantalizing a manner as possible, teasing brushes of leather and mesh against his skin, so Tim wasn't complaining. Especially since Kon's own clothes were being removed at the same pace. Tim didn't know what made him hotter: the feel of Kon's aura rippling across his body, or the sight of all that golden skin.

Luckily he didn't have to choose.

Once he was clad in nothing more than a pair of now too-tight boxer briefs, Kon stopped, pulling his aura back. He knelt between Tim's legs, arms on either side of Tim's shoulders, their bodies barely touching. The look Kon gave him was indefinable; full of lust and want, true, but also something deeper, and a seriousness that belied Superboy's casual approach to life. Tim looked back at Kon in surprise, wondering what was going on. Had Kon-El…had he changed his mind?

Tim hoped not. And that was more honesty than he'd allowed himself to feel…ever.

"You sure about this, man?" Kon asked, one hand petting soothingly over Tim's rapidly rising and falling chest.

"My…my name is Tim," Tim whispered in reply. There were tons of guys named Tim in Gotham, and Batman wouldn't find out from Kon, Tim knew.

Kon's eyes glittered with some combination of glee and gratitude. He looked touched, and thankful, and…turned on. Then the amusement and appreciation both faded beneath the lust. Lust and…something similar to friendship, but more…? "Tim," he murmured, and then went back to kissing him.

As the rest of 'Mister Sarcastic's' clothes and jewelry were removed, his tattoos smudged, and his body covered with kisses, Tim couldn't help but think that he'd never looked less like himself in his life.

But, truthfully, he'd never felt more like himself, either. Thanks to Kon, he'd been set free…if only for this moment.


THE END