Night Watch

by Weirdness Magnet
June 8, 2004

Summary: Tim watches Kon sleep and gets caught.  Sort of.

Disclaimers: They belong to DC.  I borrow them and break them, then super-glue them back together and hope DC doesn't notice.

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: None.

Acknowledgements: To Te, for making me write porn even when I don't want to. For Sparklebutch for missing me while I was away.

** 

Tim finds ways to rationalize the staring.

At first, it was to analyze the way Kon moves in a fight. He catalogued every punch, every quick takeoff and every showy use of strength. It made predicting Kon's actions easier, made planning strategy simpler.

After a while, he wasn't studying Kon. He was just *looking*.  So he invented other reasons.  It wasn't difficult. 

These days, he's looking for glimpses of Luthor in the way Kon tips his head or the slow, agonized way he buttons up the flannel shirt over the logoed t-shirt on Sundays before they all go their separate ways.

There *are* hints of Luthor in Kon. There's a glint in his eyes, usually right before the heat vision goes off unexpectedly. Tim has gotten good at spotting that look and dodging.

He hasn't thought of a good excuse for watching Kon sleep. Yet.

So far, he hasn't needed one, because the rest of the Titans are painfully day-people. By one or two in the morning, he's the only one left skulking around in the Tower and there's no one awake to make excuses to.

He stays in the shadows anyway.

When asleep, Kon takes up the entire bed. He sprawls expansively, one arm flung over his head and a leg sticking out of the sheet. His bare chest is pale in the moonlight, rising and falling in the regular breath of sleep. On the coldest nights, Kon sleeps in boxers and socks. It's not cold tonight, so he's only wearing boxers.  Green ones.

Tim can't stop looking at Kon's chest.

It's not as impressive as Superman's, and not as hard or scarred as Bruce's or Dick's. But it is broad and smooth and the skin looks soft from here, and he reaches out from across the room and thinks about what it would be like to find out.

He lowers his hand. 

He shouldn't be in here.  There isn't a good reason for him to be in here unless he counts the truth, and that isn't a *good* reason. 

He considers gliding back downstairs to do another perimeter check when Kon makes a small sound. Tim listens to the sheet rustle as Kon shifts in his sleep and kicks the sheet off all the way.

The low boxers show off the sharp jut of Kon's hip. Tim swallows.

He doesn't make a sound when he crosses the room. He stands over Kon and can't help thinking that it's *dangerous* that he can sneak up on Kon this easily. There are a lot of ways Tim could hurt him before Kon would wake up enough to fight back. He makes a mental note to review the Tower's security protocols.

He wonders what it would take to wake Kon up. Tim is *looming* now, actively trying to make his presence felt, but Kon's just snoring lightly and apparently oblivious to the brightly-colored, heavily-armed vigilante hovering over him.

The gauntlet doesn't make a sound when he pulls it off. Tim tucks it in his belt and carefully, slowly, rests his hand on Kon's chest.

The skin is softer than he imagined, and the heartbeat pounds a strong, reassuring rhythm.  He lets his thumb gently caress the sternum. Kon doesn't move.

Tim watches his hand ride the steady rise and fall of Kon's chest.  Kon's face looks smooth and calm in the dim light, and remarkably young.  Tim examines his features, looking for hints of his parentage. 

Sometimes, when Tim looks at his teammates, he catches a glimpse of what they'll look like when they're older.  Although Kon will never age, Tim can see hints of the man he might have become.  Kon looks *enough* like Clark that no one really asks about the other half of his DNA sequence, but Tim knows what to look for.  He has Superman's eyes, but thankfully not his chin.  That's definitely Luthor's jaw line. 

It's mildly distressing.

Kon's physique is definitely Superman's, but Tim estimates from the length of his femur that Kon wouldn't have been quite as tall.  Still, Kon is all broad shoulders and hard muscle and Tim doesn't realize he's tracing the curve of Kon's collarbone until Kon makes a "mmph" sound and turns into the touch.  Tim freezes for several moments until Kon's breathing is even again.

Tim holds his hand still, feeling the warmth.  Kon's skin tone is identical to Superman's, as is his body's tendency to radiate heat.  Tim imagines that a San Francisco summer will be mostly unbearable for Kon, perhaps leading to frequent swimming, cutoff shorts, and water balloon fights with Bart.  He makes a mental note to refit a slingshot, just in case.

He's seen Kon *launch* from the pool, wet trunks leaving nothing to the imagination and Tim is glad on those occasions that his cape covers everything.   Other Robins have been less fortunate. 

There's not much left to Tim's imagination *now*.  The boxers are loose but the outline of Kon's cock is still visible, and Tim watches the fabric twitch when he gently scrapes his thumbnail over Kon's nipple.  He draws sharp circles and Kon's cock jumps each time, and Tim watches it swell beneath the thin fabric.

He's almost fully erect by the time Tim swipes his tongue across the tiny bud.  Kon moans softy but doesn't stir beyond that.  Tim licks a stripe across Kon's chest, tasting salt and skin and fights to swallow the moan.  He gently bites Kon's nipple instead, and this time Kon *does* moan.  Tim feels the hand clumsily brushing at his head.

"Wha--?"

Tim pulls off instantly and holds absolutely still.  His mind flits to the vial of knockout gas in his belt.

"Tim?"  Kon's eyes are only half-open, and Tim can see that he's nowhere close to awake.  He's witnessed Kon get up, make coffee, eat and go back to bed and be nearly asleep the entire time.  He wonders which side of the family Kon gets that skill from.

Tim stays still.  He should leave, but if he moves Kon might stop him and then there would be questions.  Better to stay here and silent and wait for Kon to fall asleep again.

He tries to straighten up a little, because he's still dangerously close to Kon's chest, but when he does Kon gets his fingers tangled in Tim's hair.

"Tim," Kon murmurs. 

Tim notes that Kon's mouth is much softer than it looks.  Kon's kisses are drowsy fumblings, but when he nips at Tim's lip he can't bite back the moan fast enough.

Kon makes a sleepy, pleased sound and pulls Tim in tighter.  He's not really *awake*, Tim knows, but Kon manages to roll them over until Tim is on his back on the bed.  Kon is half on him, a leg thrown over his and nuzzling Tim's neck.  The warm breath tickles his ear and makes his cock twitch painfully inside the armored jock.

Kon rolls his hips against Tim's thigh.  His erection slides smoothly along Tim's tights, and he can feel the heat of his skin even through the protective fabric.

"Hard," Kon slurs.  His hand drags down the front of Tim's chest armor.

"Kon," Tim whispers, but then Kon has his hand down his tights and swallows Tim's moans with another kiss.

Kon doesn't have calluses, but he has *strong* hands that give his cock short, hard strokes that are going to make him come.  Tim pushes on Kon's shoulders, and he should be able to move him off until he realizes that he can't sit up or move his legs.  Kon's using his TK.  Tim wonders if he's even aware he's doing it. 

It's irrelevant, because all Tim can do is lie there and let Kon jerk him off.  The realization makes him groan into Kon's mouth. 

Kon is moaning too, and rubbing his cock steadily against Tim's thigh.  The hand around him gets tighter, pumping faster, and Tim digs his fingers into Kon's shoulders. He wants to buck, wants to *move* into it, but his hips are pinned to the bed.  He can't do anything except moan and bury his face into Kon's neck when he comes.

Kon purrs and strokes him through it.  He nuzzles Tim's face before letting go of Tim's cock and shoving his sticky hand into his own boxers.  Tim watches him jerk himself fast and hard before collapsing bonelessly next to him. 

Tim stares at the ceiling until he hears Kon snoring in his ear. 

It's a slow effort to slide out from under Kon without rousing him.  He finally disentangles himself and fixes his clothes.  He pulls out a wet wipe from his utility belt and gently wipes Kon's sticky hand clean.  Tucks the used tissue into an empty pouch on his belt for disposal later. 

He draws the sheet up over Kon before padding silently out of his room. 

**

Tim is scanning through the morning news reports when a breakfast bar lands in his lap. 

Kon peels the wrapper off his own bar as he leans against the console.  "Anything interesting happening in the world?" 

"Fox News reported that it's National Sewing Month and that Gwyneth Paltrow is back down to her pre-baby weight."

 "Ah, the joys of a slow news cycle." 

"Maybe not," Tim scrolls down the screen.  "There's a report of an oil refinery fire in Kasnia. The League's already on it, though." 

Kon reads over Tim's shoulder.  "Is it that serious?" 

"When you consider that there aren't any oil refineries in Kasnia, yes." 

Tim doesn't have to look at Kon's face to hear him processing that.  "So it's actually a... " 

"A nuclear missile silo.  Somebody did a bad job of stealing a warhead." 

"Shit." 

Tim's mouth quirks sardonically.  "The League's got it covered.  They'll call us if they want backup."  He finishes compiling the reports Oracle sent and makes a note to read the e-mail from Dick later.  He unwraps the cereal bar and calls up the wire reports. 

"Were you in my room last night?" 

Tim chews purposefully and pretends to be engrossed in an article about the latest rumblings from the FTC about raising interest rates.  "Hm?" 

"It's a simple question.  Were you in my room last night?" 

Tim does stoic well.  "Yes." 

"You--oh."  Kon blinks and Tim watches him trying desperately to think. 

"I heard a noise," he says evenly.  It's technically true, even if the noises he heard were the ones *he* was making.  "Sorry if I woke you."

He turns back to the screen so he doesn't have to watch Kon process that bit of information.  Tim notices a wire report regarding the upcoming G-8 summit and calls up the full details.

"Uh, sure.  No problem.  Thanks for checking it out."  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kon straighten. "Practice session in half an hour." 

"Okay." He feels Kon move towards the exit, but he doesn't leave the room entirely. 

"I'll leave the door open." 

"What?"  Tim forces his hands to move steadily across the keyboard. 

"In case you ever... hear noises.  You can investigate if you want and you're not... you wouldn't be disturbing me or anything." 

Tim fights the urge to ball his hands into fists.  "I'll keep that in mind."

"Practice in thirty." 

"I'll be there." 

He feels Kon leave the room this time, and goes back to typing.  

~end