Everything starts as embarrassing and as volatile as it ends — because Kon (no, no, not Cassie) is a screamer in bed. And while pumping into her, it's not "Cassie" that escapes his lips blissfully.
But she decides to indulge the concept of a threesome anyway. Her idea, not Kon's. Just so it's clear.
And it's not her favorite thought… but… a one-night threesome might be a helpful experiment, if not for the sake of exorcising Kon's supposedly "rare" and "oh-god-Cassie-Cassie-I'm-so-fucking-sorry-this-had-never-oh-god" sexual fantasies about his best friend out of him, then exercising them out physically for everyone's sake. Okay, Cassie had to admit… Tim's mesmerized and faintly scandalized expression upon getting around to asking him to join her and Kon that evening was completely worth her wiggy feelings.
He accepts, which surprises the hell out of her, but then again… Tim's not exactly an open book. Who knows how many of his pages are littered with dirty thoughts and smudged with a sort of cum-lust…
For the first twenty minutes, the three of them sit on different corners of Cassie's bed — occasionally glancing dumbstruck at each other, shimming out of various articles of clothing.
Cassie stares at Kon with such a predatory kind of intensity that he shrinks a little under it (considering his larger muscle mass, it's quite an outstanding feat). Tim may be keeping his composure so far but he is redder than either of them have seen him, left in his green spandex bottoms, and toying uncomfortably with the hidden clasp of his utility belt — neither of his teammates dare breath a word about the inside joke circulating Titans Tower about Tim and his "chastity" belt. Or even think about it much further. Not if Kon and Cassie wanted to get laid with him — big on the 'IF'.
(Bats seemed to have an innate, uncanny ability to read minds without the actual telepathy.)
Kon loses his patience with an eye roll — or maybe just loses his shit, whichever, the building tension is getting ridiculous — and tackles Tim flat on his back to the perfumed, blue flower-print sheets. Kon's reward for taking the initiative is a hard crack of elbow straight to the nose (that would otherwise shattered if Kon was all human), a few solid kicks to the shin, and finally, some volts of high-powered electricity from the emergency defense system in Tim's belt. Harhar. Chastity belt indeed.
There are enough kinds of lubricants to open a sidewalk vendor for a porn shop, and really, all Tim has to do is pick one. Or three. They can do a coin-toss to see what ends up being used.
But, no, Tim has to examine each bottle with frowning scrutiny (and, no, Kon couldn't convince him to remove the Robin mask under any promises of sensual, mind-blowing pleasure) and ask about possible expiration dates — and then inch himself towards his discarded belt to fish out a mini-computer to do research on which ones were more beneficial for both male and female intercourse—
The very strong desire to tie him up has to be pushed down. Firmly.
Somewhere between Tim's right hand trapped, wriggling helpless between the iron grip of Cassie's naked thighs, and his left hand pinned up against his own hip and Kon's copiously leaking erection — the realization sinks in with everyone that, maybe, this just isn't going to work out. At least, that's what Cassie assumes when she separates herself with a heavy sigh from the other two boys (who turn their backs to each other restlessly and with pained looks), throwing on her bathrobe hanging on her closet handle and slipping wordlessly into her bathroom to clean herself off.
Silence goes on for another few minutes as she rinses her hands in the sink.
Then… small thumping noises. A moaning cry. More silence. A wet slap of skin-on-skin accompanied by a quiet, throatier moan of "C-conner!"
Her fingers crush around the edges of the porcelain sink, tearing out chunks like it is made of softer material (like her bar of Dove soap), and Cassie body-slams a portion of her own bathroom wall out of existence when she seethes, crashing out into the hallway. When the clouds of powdered drywall lift, Cassie discovers Rose across the way.
The white-haired girl in only a long, gray tee shirt cackles with a malicious and witchy intent at Cassie's furious grimace.
She loosens her sash to the waist of her cotton, sapphire blue bathrobe with a huff. Fine.
"What's crawling up your butt, Blondie—?" is all Rose manages to comment on before Cassie swoops in, crashing their lips together, and Cassie's hands squeeze determinedly on Rose's cheeks.
Within seconds, a silver dagger from nowhere prods the carotid vein to Cassie's bare neck — just a hair away from puncturing — but instead Rose lets out a intrigued sound against Cassie's closed mouth, sliding the tip of her devious tongue under the space of the stronger girl's lower lip in a long and sloo~oow motion. Their chests press together.
Like a hound on the scent of fresh blood, Cassie's bedroom door flings open wildly to reveal a messy-haired and thoroughly satiated Kon.
He gawks at them with wide, delighted eyes before rubbing himself enthusiastically and muttering about excellent nipple placement. Through the opening of the bedroom, an equally messy-haired Tim pulls on his Robin tunic and snorts unamused at Kon's shortcoming. Cassie peels herself away, somewhat horrified by her actions but mostly pleased as Rose hurls her dagger into the square arch of the doorway, millimeters from the crown of Kon's head, and Kon's healthy color drains when it processes. Maybe it doesn't have to all end embarrassing.
DC Comics and its characters are not mine. CRACKCRACKCRACK.
"While having sex with Cassie Kon moans the wrong name. Thinking it's just a fantasy of Kon's that'll go away if acted on, she invites Tim to join them. The results aren't what she hopes for.