Bart's vibrating hands worked, blurring from view and grinding into the flesh and tissue in Kon's back.

He could kinda feel it. If this had been Tim, he could have pounded on Kon's back and it would be like a towel flapping on him. Maybe an exaggeration, but still, not much of anything — though, he was sure Tim had enough skills to make a massage for a half-Kryptonian work. Hm. Kon's mood darkened a little. Stupid new Robin took Tim's place in the Tower. Bart seemed okay with him, despite the sniping remarks, and even when the brat had tried to skewer him in the liver with a barbeque poker. That was some major BS and Kon's protective nature almost got him a shitload of trouble for nearly strangling Brat Wonder. With how much this Robin sucked at teamwork and following protocol, and purposely isolated himself from the rest of them, how dare he so much as TOUCH his friends…

Bart's hips lowered up and down, oh so slightly, as the speedster coaxed the tension from those bracing muscles (there was no staying still for this kid). It was a…nice rhythm. Kon felt a hum stir out of his chest. "You're hard, man," he teased, pressing his smirk into his tanned forearm.

"And you're not?" Bart answered, a peg just below gleefully.

"No… no, you're right, I definitely am."

"Should I massage that, too?" came a cheeky suggestion from above him and Kon hooked an ankle around the back of Bart's leg, rolling both of them until Bart was pushed hard onto his stomach, to the shaggy carpet to Bart's chaotically-lived in room. He was a little surprised that they didn't bump into anything during the bite-kissing and general roughhousing — like the old mountain bike with twisted handlebars and a chipped, red paintjob near the nightstand. Bart's molecules slowed their buzzing. With one hand, Kon undid his jeans, and with his other he kept pressed into the line of Bart's spine.

He leaned into Bart's ear, smirking wider as the other boy squirming impatiently underneath him. "Something else we can do…"

"I'm listening," Bart whispered, turning his head a moment. A glimpse of gold-electric eyes, mischievous and appreciative, rocketing a surge of heat through Kon's entire body, flipping the switch to want you want you right now. The speedster lifted his hips and bucked into Kon's hand roaming down into of his cargo shorts, allowing easier access as the hand trailed over his ass and cupping him.

Kon slowly licked around the shape of Bart's ear, tasting shower-moist, flicking the edge of his tongue against an earlobe. "How about a deep tissue massage…?" he offered. Kon worked Bart's shorts further off him, nudging the head of his cock between Bart's asscheeks. "You'd like that, wouldn't ya?" A rocking jerk against warm flesh, and Kon's fingers squeezed his balls with a little more intent.

A breathy, whimpering noise. Bart dug his forehead to the carpet. "Ohh… -Kon…"

"Nngn—" Kon groaned back when his companion bucked harder, "…How about it, buddy?"

"Kon… y-yeah…"

Long, auburn bangs shifted to the motion as Bart shuddered and nodded minutely — and he resisted the insane urge to pet the speedster like he was a needy, adorable puppy. "Whaddja do with the slick, Bart?"

It took a second but Bart answered low, "Second drawer… under the socks. Condom, too."

Kon sent out his TK to retrieve the items and opened the bottle lid, pointing out as he lathered his fingers. "Nice hiding spot," he snickered. "No one's gonna guess the, uh, inconspicuous sock drawer."

"No one yet… mm…" Bart sighed, letting the invisible hold of Kon's powers hold his hips in place, stretch him open, as fingers slipped and prodded. When Bart gave no signs of anything beyond moderate discomfort — to which Kon responded by rubbing his stomach until muscles seemed to have loosened around Kon's lubricated fingers, and the other boy giggled aloud at the ticklish sensation below his ribs — Kon replaced those fingers, taking his time until the fat crown disappears completely into Bart's entrance, spearing him in small, maneuvering thrusts.

Bart's pale neck arched up as he moaned, sounding like he was speaking through gritted teeth, "C'mon… ahready." Kon's other, large hand slid underneath the light orange 'Project Mayhem' t-shirt from his stomach to Bart's throat, lightly brushing the tips of his fingers against an Adam's apple as Kon goes deeper into him, seating hip-to-hip, melding his mouth to the nape of Bart's sweaty neck.

"-aah..ah…" Bart moaned higher-pitched, more enthusiasm in his bedroom, returning the sloppy thrusts, and Kon couldn't see the splitting smile on Bart's face — he could feel it in the noises Bart continued making with Kon's hand rolling down Bart's cock, his blunt thumbnail gently stroking the underside, and the wet thudding. Close. Like the verge of distant roar, threatening to radiate out like a starburst. Tim would laugh at his poetry. In fact, he had laughed at his high school projects in Smallville, those impossibly blue eyes crinkling up around the corners as Tim stammered out apologies in an afterthought, holding a hand up to his mouth and expertly ducking the aim of pillows from only part of half-Kryptonian strength. He and Bart would be only ones to glimpse those most tiny splinters of self-reflective, intimate thoughts.

Kon's mouth drifted over a shoulder blade. "…You're thinking about Tim, too, right?" he murmured.

Bart let out a gasping, soft laugh, trembling when Kon pressed into his prostate gland. "Miss him…"

"Me too."

Without warning, the new rounding of vibrating — internal — brought Kon down to his orgasm, ripping through him and curling his toes. He pulled out, disposing his condom in a bin, and plunged his bare, half-dry lubricant fingers back into Bart, back to the gland, and the speedster choked out a groan. He spilled against Kon's fingers, dripping between the crevices, and ruining the hem of his t-shirt. Bart's fists uncurled from the shaggy carpet as he rolled onto his back, pushing his hands through the roots of his auburn hair and breathing hard through his nose, grinning up at the other meta.

Kon grinned back, rising to his feet to wash his hands, pulling off the rest of his denim jeans as they sluggishly fell to his ankles. "Yo, got a change of clothes or sumthin'?" he called over the sink.

"Fifth drawer." Bart mumbled, and god if Kon didn't want to lathe his tongue into the splatter-coating on his firm abdomen, "My pajama pants are the only things that'll fit you, probably."

His TK summoned a pair of Batman-symbol bottoms fly at him mid-air. He frowned, catching them and switching off the bathroom sink. "…really, dude?" Kon stared back at the other boy.

"He's awesome," Bart argued, hooking his hands over his head. "Pissyourpantsscary, but awesome."

Kon shrugged as he pulled them on. Nope, still kinda short at the calves, but whatever.

"…Got any underwear?"

"Snnk, get your own."


Forgot I had this fic sitting around in my documents. Aaaaand couldn't resist a little Tim/Kon/Bart on the side. Comments are every welcomed~~ though I know this was itty bitty, smutty PWP. 83