TT Drabble: Yearnings

Disclaimer: No, I do NOT own the Teen Titans. If I did...well, let's not think about that now, shall we?

A.N.: This is just a one-shot drabble that I randomly came up with. So...yeah, if you don't like yaoi (meaning gay people), one-shots, Teen Titans, slash-pairings, sex (well, almost), or anything else that I've written here, then I suggest you get the hell outta here. M'kay? :D But other than that, I really hope that you enjoy this! And please, when you're done, go ahead and tell me what you think of it; I could use all the advice that I can get! :D

Pairing: Slade/Robin (mmmmm...Sladin...delicious!) :D


A single thread. Then another. Then another. I tried to count them all, but there were too many. I kept losing count. They were so small, so thin, I'm surprised I could even tell one from the other. So many threads. So many stories. So many plans, both fulfilled and destroyed. I spread my hands over the soft, smooth fabric, feeling all the threads through my fingertips. But could I even tell which threads were which? I wasn't quite sure. I wrapped my fingers into it, scrunching the cloth into my fists, trying to feel the skin underneath it. I closed my eyes, enjoying the thought of touching him without this shirt on. A grin passed onto my lips, unknown to me until his fingers, feather-light and cool as ice-frosted glass, ghosted over them, his blue eye taking me in and making me blush. I looked away from him, knowing I wasn't supposed to feel like this, but instead his fingers flitted towards my cheek and made me turn back to face him again.

As if I could stop looking at him for long.

I always wanted to look at him, to see his body move and weave through the air like it was moving through water. I couldn't help myself; he was like a drug, like cocaine, like something that I could never give up, not even if I wanted to. I pressed him closer to me, taking in his scent, trying to figure out why I couldn't stop wanting him. His body, warm with the aromas of his skin, his clothes, and metal, was forced into crushing me into the mattress because of my hands, and yet I still wanted him closer. There were so many barriers that separated us from each other, the first of which being the clothes that he still wore. I wanted them off, now, and he knew I did, but he would not comply. I was anxious, I was waiting, I was trying to be good and patient, but he was making it so difficult for me to do that, and the more I waited, the more I wanted. A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he felt my small hands trying desperately to lift his shirt over his head. Taking both of my hands into one of his much larger ones while his other slid over to my hip, he stopped me from going any further. I looked at him pleadingly, mentally begging him to let me do what I so dearly wanted to do, and a small whine escaped me, coming from nowhere. I could practically see his smirk widening behind his mask as he saw my blush get deeper. Damn it.

The hand that laid on my hip slowly started to slither up and down my side, gently coasting underneath my own top, grazing my ribs, my waist, back to my hip, and even down onto my pants to my outer thigh. I wanted him so badly that it actually began to hurt, and I was certain that that was exactly how he wanted me to feel. His knee gently started pressing into, then pulling away from, my crotch, and it felt so good. At one point, when he pushed a little more gruffly than normal, I arched my back and failed to bite back a groan, tightening my grip on his shirt under his hand. My throat and mouth were both bone-dry, my hot breath coming out in thick huffs as he shoved harder and harder, his other hand covering more and more space on my body. With each grinding drive, my moans got louder, and I began to sweat with anticipation, as I knew he was as well. My hands, finally having escaped his, traveled around his body, clawing first at his back, then sliding down his arms, ruffling his sleeves as they went back up again, tugging at his pants, unbuckling his belt, trying to get at him everywhere that they sought to go to.

Then, seeing his mask again, I knew where they were going to go next. As they skimmed over the cloth of his shirt that I seriously wanted off and drifted over to his neck, I slowly brought them up to his face. My right hand stroked his opposite cheek while my left's fingers lightly touched the slits in his mask, trying to slide through them, trying to bring the mask down, trying to figure him out before my own mind could. Our faces were literally inches apart, and yet, neither of us actually knew what the other really looked like. He had seen everything else but my eyes (as far as I knew, anyway) and I had seen his eye but nothing else. I was so curious and I wanted to see him so badly that I knew I'd go insane if I couldn't know the truth behind it. So, leading my fingers over to the sides of it, I dug my nails into the niches and pulled gently until I heard a soft click. Almost instantly, he froze were he was, staring at me with something in his eye that I couldn't quite understand and, at that moment anyway, didn't care about. As I lowered the mask, I heard his breath catch in his throat, and sudden excitement bubbled inside of me. This was it. I was finally going to see what was under that damn mask, after all this time! I would finally be able to see his face! At a speed that was probably slower than frozen molasses, I brought it lower, lower, lower still, until I saw a brilliant shock of white, and then…

I woke up. I blinked up confusedly at my ceiling as I watched the colors of the morning sun coming in through my window stretch their way towards the contradicting wall. It was…a dream? Just a dream?! My brain reeled in anger and complete puzzlement as I tried to think this through. There was no way it had just been a dream, it'd felt way too real! I ran a hand through my sweaty hair as I sighed and sat up in bed, swinging my legs over the side of it. Slouching over them, an arm hanging over my knee with the other rubbing at the back of my neck, I glanced down at the obvious "tent" that resided in between. I was thoroughly glad that, if anything, Slade couldn't see the fact that I'd been extremely aroused by him, and mumbled about as much under my breath. With one last grin, I stood up, placed my hands backwards on my waist (so my thumbs were facing my stomach) and bent back far, making my head touch the sheets of my bed, then stood straight back up again. After raising my arms high above my body and leaning to the left and then to the right, I decided I might as well take a cold shower to calm myself down, and jogged to my attaching bathroom. Looking into the mirror at my lithe, damp, half-naked form, I smirked at myself for no reason at all before quickly stripping and stepping into the icy stream of water that immediately chilled me into wakefulness. And then my day began.


Slade sat wide-eyed in his extravagant chair, leaning forward to stare at the large screen before him. He couldn't believe what he'd just seen and heard over the past half hour, on that monitor alone. He knew, of course, that Robin had no idea of the camera and microphone that lied hidden in his room, but this was perhaps just a little more than what Slade had wanted to know, ever.

He'd watched as the boy tossed and turned in his sleep, heard him moan and groan and whimper as his body reacted to whatever he'd been dreaming about. He'd even watched (uninterestedly, as he'd had to keep telling himself) as he'd began to grow sweaty and aroused underneath his blankets. But when his always-hidden eyes seemed to flash open and his face became tense with anger, Slade could automatically tell that he had wanted to stay asleep, to finish whatever dream it was that he'd been having. When the boy sat up and brought his feet over to the floor, he'd assumed that that was it and nothing more was going to happen.

That is, until he'd heard him mumble the words "At least Slade can't see me getting hard because of him" as a grin slowly creeped onto his face. Now that definitely caught Slade's attention, and rose the question what the hell had he been dreaming about to his mind. And as his young bird stood up and began to stretch, he couldn't help but watch him. The critically sharp curve to his back when he tipped behind himself and touched his head to the bed, the smooth, flawless arch to his sides as he swept his body into almost 90-degree-angles to his left and right, everything. Even his jog into his bathroom was perfectly nimble, like a dancer's.

As he studied the faultless, precise creature before him, he realized just how hypnotic he was to him, and he couldn't shake away the thought of wanting to touch him, to see just how he could possibly move so gracefully, and to show him the things that he could do…and do to him. Suddenly having the thought spoken clearly in his mind like that, Slade forced himself from the trance just as the god-like boy slipped into the shower water. Mentally scolding himself, he stood up, shut down the monitor, and headed for his own bathroom. After witnessing all of that, the man knew that he'd need an icy-cold shower as well before he could even think of walking out into the fresh, new daylight. Sliding the door closed behind him and locking it, he undressed himself with slight difficulty and took off his mask, staring at himself in the mirror. He frowned and glared at the reflection that he saw, wishing it wasn't his, then walked into the water's spray, balking at it's coldness. And then his day began.


A.N. 2: Alright, well, let's just hope that that wasn't too awful bad, huh? Okay, so I definitely like reviews, BUT NO FLAMING ME, M'KAY?! I mean, this is my first fanfic, so I think I deserve some slack. Okay, well, R&R, y'all! (whatever that means...) D8