Somebody's Fetish
by Weirdness Magnet and Te
August 13, 2004

Disclaimers: We don't even have the action figures.
Yet.

Spoilers: Absolutely none.

Summary: It's entirely possible that Tim has put an
abnormally *intense* amount of thought into Kon's
wardrobe choices.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Authors' Note: We were talking about the place of
personal kink in fan-fiction. Neither of us are
particularly *surprised* this story happened...

Acknowledgments: To Jack and LC for
audiencing and encouragement.

***


Tim knows that Kon likes leather. There is, after all,
ample evidence to support the notion.

Kon wore that jacket long after it was unfashionable,
and much longer after it stopped fitting. At first, Tim
had thought Kon's attachment to it was sentimental,
and it was -- to a point. But Tim had *seen* Kon's
reaction to the sweeping black trench coats in "The
Matrix," and Tim is reasonably sure that look had
almost nothing to do with Carrie-Ann Moss.

He's mildly surprised that Kon didn't include a new
jacket when he redesigned his costume. Despite the
distinctive logo across his chest, the t-shirt and jeans
are simple and unassuming. Different from the
leather-and-spandex of his youth, and not just in terms
of design.

Tim misses the jacket sometimes. The fact that Kon's
*second* uniform had lacked the jacket, as well --
though not the straps -- should probably be indicative
of... something. It's difficult to put his finger on.

There *are* other things to focus on, though
too much of his attention these days is drawn to the
wide leather bracelet that has taken up residence on
Kon's right wrist. It's a black leather band a couple
of inches wide, made adjustable by a row of
bright, metal snaps. It's an interesting choice for
an addition to Kon's uniform, if that's what it *is*.

And... it isn't as simple as it would appear from a
distance. Whoever had designed the thing had put
a great deal of time into planning and imprinting a
surprisingly complex knotwork design.

It looks... touchable. Not in any particularly
comforting way -- there's nothing *soft* about the
look of it. Still. Much of Tim's life has been written
around the concept that nothing could ever be
entirely discerned through *just* looking.

And he *could* just ask for a chance to examine it
more closely, but he can't quite think of a reason for
the request that wouldn't seem weird. He'll have to
think about it.

Tim winces at the twinge in his shoulder when he
points the remote at the TV. It never hurts to be
reminded of just how unforgiving the d-cels can be
of imperfect form. Except for how it actually hurts
rather a lot. He smiles ruefully to himself and
debates getting an ice pack, rubbing at the muscle
while he looks for something to watch.

"You okay?" The couch shifts behind him as Kon
settles in.

"Pulled it during patrol."

"Rotator cuff acting up again?"

"Just the trap." His mind flits to the scar marring
his left trapezius. The wound wasn't *that* deep --
didn't sever the muscle completely -- but sometimes
he wonders how much mobility he'll have left in that
arm when he gets to be Bruce's age.

"C'mere."

Kon is pretty much the only person who can rub
Tim hard enough to feel through the body armor.
Tim still can't feel much -- the armor is well-designed
-- but enough of the pressure gets through that
Tim's shoulder starts to loosen up.

The bracelet is close enough to *smell*. Leather, and
the sweat beneath.

Kon.

Tim reaches up and pats Kon's hand. "It's better.
Thanks."

"Sure." Kon doesn't pull his hand off *right* away.
The pause is just long enough for Tim to turn
slightly, shifting his hand to run the back of one
gloved finger against the bracelet's design, feeling
its ridges.

"You like it."

Tim blinks and freezes. "What?"

"The bracelet, man. You've been staring at it since I
got it."

"I --"

Kon pulls his hand *away*, and it seems like a very
large *thing* to do, despite the fact that he's just
tracing it with his own fingers. And not looking at
him. "I just... the Kents took me to this flea market
outside of town. *Nothing* there, dude, I'm serious.
I do not need John Denver's Greatest Hits. Anyway...
yeah. I saw it in one of the booths."

"It's nice," Tim manages to say. And it *is* nice,
with very obvious attention to craftsmanship in the
intricate knotwork pressed into the leather. Kon is
sort of holding his arm up and tracing the pattern
with his other hand, close enough that Tim can
scrutinize the way he's been wanting to.

Considerate of him. Kon's always very... It's
almost absent, the way he nearly always allows Tim
access. An open invitation.

Always. As though it would be perfectly fine for
Tim to do...

Well, to touch the bracelet, too.

His gauntlet is off before he can think about it.

Kon moves his hand aside so Tim can put his own
there. He holds Kon's wrist still and traces the
pattern with his thumb and really *looks* at it.
Smells it, too, because he's close enough. Leather
and dye and Kon's sweat and a hint of something
musky. His thumb brushes across one of the unused
snap catches.

He likes the way it feels on the pad of his thumb,
and he wants to feel it with... He brushes the backs
of his knuckles over it, and he's aware that he's
being... just a *little* obsessive.

He doesn't actually need Kon's nervous laugh.

He raises an eyebrow and Kon shrugs. "It's just... um.
I didn't think you'd like it that much."

"It suits you." And okay, Tim has *no* idea where
that came from, but it's true nonetheless.

Kon raises an eyebrow this time. "Really?"

"... Yes." Tim concentrates on memorizing the pattern
to avoid saying anything... anything *else*.

Except that Kon is smiling at him, and it's not just
the smile Tim had come to think of as something like
Kon's default setting years before. It's... well, it's a
*watchful* smile. A *questioning* smile.

If Tim raises an eyebrow again, Kon will just
*answer* the question. So he doesn't. It's... easier
to let his eyes slip half-shut and learn the patterning
by touch, holding on to Kon's hand so he can move
it the way he needs to.

He tips Kon's arm this way and that, following the
pattern and noting the way the band fits snugly
against Kon's wrist. Not too tight, yet, but the band
is on the widest snap setting. One more workout
session with Vic and it probably won't fit anymore.
And the bracelet makes Kon's forearm look more
*solid*, somehow. Not just stronger, but more
powerful, more *there*.

Tim's thumb slips off the edge of the bracelet, onto
the thin skin of Kon's wrist. The band covers Kon's
pulse-point, but the skin is warm in a way Tim
wouldn't be able to feel if he still had the gauntlet
on.

He forgets how very much like sunshine Kon's skin
feels. It makes the rest of Tim's body feel cold in an
entirely irrational way. Feel like *shivering*. Like --

"This isn't some kind of vampire thing is it? Like...
with my veins. Uh."

He thinks about leaning in, about biting Kon's wrist.
One canine scraping at Kon's atom-thin and
invulnerable aura, the other digging *in* to the
leather.

The image isn't amusing at all.

"No," he says, and swallows against the sound of
his own voice.

Kon shudders once, almost imperceptibly. It's enough,
or perhaps just the right thing, to make Tim lean in
and inhale, let the scent of leather and Kon and musk
fill his head. He closes his eyes briefly behind the
lenses of his mask.

Sex. The leather smells faintly of sex.

And since it smells of *Kon*...

The intimacy is abruptly, *belatedly* shocking, and
he pauses with his face still so *close* to Kon's wrist.
If he said something -- anything -- his lips would
brush against the leather.

Against Kon's skin.

He exhales harshly before he can swallow it back
and Kon tenses *hard*. "Tim -- I..."

It's no use calling what he's doing anything but
barely-controlled panting. It's no use pretending to
himself that he isn't hard. He *squeezes* his eyes
shut behind the mask for a beat, another, and then
forces himself to look up.

Whatever's on his face makes Kon flush, deep and
sudden. "You -- you could do it. I. Whatever you --"
And Kon's face crumples like he's hurting, badly.

Tim leans in, and now he's holding Kon's hand
almost *pressed* to his own chest. "Kon --"

"Want. Fuck, Tim, just --"

And Tim is panting and he'd like to think he's got *some*
level of control here, because he didn't actually have a
plan for this, aside from "touch Kon's leather." Which
he's *doing*, gripping Kon's wrist and rubbing the
textured leather with his thumb. He hadn't realized he
was doing it. Perhaps it would've been better to say he
didn't have a *conscious* plan.

Kon's hand flexes in his grasp, and he rubs Tim's chest
armor. *Lightly*. Tim can't bite back the little gasp.

And Kon makes a *noise* and mutters, "Fuck,"
grabbing Tim's hair with his free hand and pulling until
he moves up, moves *in*. He's on Kon's lap.

The motion of the hand on Tim's chest is limited by
the grip Tim still has around Kon's wrist, but the
other... Kon is petting him. Almost *kneading* his scalp,
and they're close, they're too close, and Tim thinks Kon
could burn him even through the armor, and Tim wants
to be naked.

He wants --

Kon is *looking* at him and licking his lips and
mussing his *hair*, and it shouldn't make him need
to push into it, to push his head back against Kon's
palm and his chest *forward* against Kon's *other*
palm, but it does.

He does.

He needs to.

Kon just pulls him in closer and looks at him with
dark eyes. His pupils are dilated. Tim shifts, but
Kon holds him *in*, and there's something about
the glint in Kon's eye that tells him Kon is perfectly
content to let Tim move like that between his
hands, because Kon *has* him.

That could be what the glint says. It could also
mean that Kon's heat vision is about to fry him. His cock
doesn't care. It mindlessly aches inside his jock and
pulses when Kon nuzzles his cheek.

Kon's mouth is soft. Hot on his cheek -- wet. His tongue.
His --

Licking him. *Tasting* him and still touching him, slow
and -- *teasing*.

"Kon --"

"She had collars, Tim. The chick at the flea market."

Did you buy one? "I --"

"What would you do if I wore one of *those*?"

Pass out. Fuck you. Drag you down by it and kiss
you until you couldn't breathe. Tim closes his eyes
and tilts his cheek into the warm breath. "Kon," he
says softly.

Kon drags his mouth over his cheek, lingering on
his light stubble before pressing his lips against Tim's
ear. Slow breath and a little flick of Kon's tongue on
his earlobe, and Tim can't swallow the moan, can't
stop himself from twitching *up* in Kon's grasp. Kon
chuffs a laugh and gently bites the top of his ear,
letting the tip of his tongue trace the edge.

And that sends a jolt straight to his dick.

He squeezes Kon's wrist and it makes Kon *pause*,
breath hot and humid against his ear. Ticklish.

He didn't want Kon to stop. He closes his eyes
behind the mask again and tugs on Kon's wrist,
slowly and awkwardly. Tim *drags* Kon's hand
down the center of his tunic and feels himself flex
at Kon's soft, pleased moan.

Kon licks his ear again, slowly. *Wetly*. "Kon..."

"I bet she had other things, man." The flick of Kon's
tongue makes Tim's hips jerk. Again.

"Like?" Say it.

"Cock rings, maybe. Black leather. Just... just like
my bracelet."

"Oh," he says, only it's a moan, because the pattern
of Kon's bracelet is digging into his palm, and
because Kon is cupping him through his jock.

"Would you like that?"

"Yes," he chokes, and not just because Kon chose
that moment to rub him *hard* through his tights.

Kon growls against his ear. "You -- you want to
see that. Black leather strip around my cock. Tight
enough that I couldn't --" He *squeezes* Tim's
cock through the armor, "-- I'd come when *you*
wanted me to."

It's not enough. The suit's too well made for this
to *be* enough. But Kon's voice is so...

"*Tell* me, Tim."

Somewhere between angry and desperate. Tim
bites his lip and has to force himself to stop. "You
want that. You want me to --" It's not a word, it's
only noise and the feel of Kon's teeth on his ear.
Not hard enough to break the skin. Just enough
to --

Oh, his *tongue* --

"I bet you could keep me -- *fuck* -- right on the
edge. For hours. Tim..."

Tim clutches Kon's wrist harder. He feels Kon's
teeth on his ear, his breath and the *press* of the
heel of Kon's hand against his jock. Tim bites his
lip again so he doesn't whine. Or beg.

He's starting to *need* to come.

And Kon maybe isn't as in-control as he seems,
because his hips buck briefly against Tim's thigh right
before Kon's hand yanks his hair. "*Tell* me."

He knows -- he *thinks* he knows what Kon wants
to hear. What would turn him on *and* piss him off
a little.

"*Tim*."

He also knows the truth. He twists out of the grip on
his hair and looks at Kon. He presses Kon's other
hand *hard* against his jock and lets Kon see him
gasping --

"*Fuck*, Tim --"

"I wouldn't. Have... the control. Not for that." Not
for you.

He watches the quick swipe of Kon's tongue across
his lips. He watches Kon *blink* and tries not to.

He doesn't want to miss any of this. "I. I'd suck you.
For a while." Kon's eyes are so *wide*. "With the
ring, I could do it for... a long time."

Kon tips his chin down and it feels like he's listening
with his whole body, even the hand moving so
*slowly* on Tim's crotch.

"Suck you, play with you, but just... just to get you
hard enough so you'd let me --"

And Kon groans and *squeezes* him, forcing a gasp
out of him, another.

"Kon --"

"I --" And this nuzzle is rough, awkward until Kon's
face is pressed against his throat. "I'd let you --"

"I *want* to," and it's much too loud and it makes
Kon *thrust* against his thigh, makes him tug at
Tim's tights and --

"You'd do it -- so hard --"

"Hard -- hard as you want. Hard as you -- I
wouldn't be able to stop -- *fuck* --" Kon's hand is
warm and solid around his cock, and Tim *has* to
make noise. More noise. Kon slides his other hand
down his back, pressing Tim closer, holding *tight*
as he rubs Tim's pre-come down his length.

"Touch me, Tim, God --"

Yes. Kon -- Tim reaches for Kon's jeans, manages
to get them open, get his bare hand inside Kon's
shorts and oh *God*. Kon's hot and *wet*, and
Tim presses his fingers against the shaft and rubs
the wetness around the edge of the foreskin with
his thumb.

Kon gasps and *whimpers* against his throat,
shaking, and, "Please -- *please* --"

Tim doesn't even have time to scream, just arches
back and up so hard his *neck* creaks, and then
he's coming all over Kon's fist, all over his own
*stomach* --

"*Fuck* --"

Kon is still holding him, Kon won't *let* him fall
over, but he doesn't want to be held. He twists
away and drops to his knees, shoving Kon's thighs
apart and diving in --

"Tim -- oh *Jesus* --"

Kon's hands in his hair again, holding him tight
and pushing *in*, and Tim moans and takes it,
clawing at the insides of Kon's long, strong thighs
and --

He tastes like sex and smells like leather and the
only reason Tim isn't whimpering is because Kon's
cock chokes off every sound.

Tim drags Kon's jeans down enough that he can grab
Kon's bare hips, so smooth and *hot*. He uses them
to pull Kon in and *make* him fuck his mouth, until
Kon tightens his grip in Tim's hair, pulls out and
*shoves* in hard.

Tim closes his eyes and opens his throat, digging his
fingers in. He's drooling around Kon's cock, but Kon
doesn't seem to care, because he's cursing a blue
streak and *using* Tim's mouth.

"Tim, I -- I want you to fuck me so *hard* --"

Tim *groans* around Kon's cock, opens his eyes
and *watches* Kon lose it right before he feels the
heat fill his mouth.

He swallows, but doesn't manage to get everything.
He pulls off slow, wiping his mouth with the back of
his hand and listening to Kon gasp.

"I want that, too," Tim says, and wonders if there's
any way to *touch* Kon to make him moan like
that.

And wonders if -- *when* he's going to get the
chance to investigate the question with the
thoroughness it deserves. He grins to himself and
licks the come off his knuckles.

Kon tastes sweet, almost *wrongly* sweet. Or...
perhaps not almost, considering his background.
He sucks between his own fingers and looks up to
find Kon watching him.

No, staring. He looks... shocked.

Tim takes his time licking his fingers clean. He's
not putting on a show (much) so much as giving
Kon time to say whatever he's thinking.

"You --"

Tim sucks his index finger.

"Uh --"

He licks the webbing between his ring and middle
finger.

"Are you --"

Somehow, there's a wet spot nearly at his elbow.
Tim lifts his arm and swipes it with his tongue. He's
becoming convinced he could give himself an entire
tongue-bath before Kon manages to make a
sentence.

And then Kon groans, and tugs at his own arm,
somehow *fervently* clumsy, and he's... taking off
the bracelet. And sliding down off the couch to kneel
in front of him and --

"Oh."

Kon's thumb is *hot* against the slick place on his
arm, rubbing him there before he fastens the
bracelet around Tim's wrist. If he had the
gauntlet on, the bracelet wouldn't be visible at all.

"Kon..." Tim takes a breath. He's almost sure he
had something to say.

Kon wraps his hand around the bracelet and
squeezes.

And kisses him, slow and hard and deep.

Complete sentences may be overrated.

~end