Fic: Reaction
Title: Reaction
Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Blood/knifeplay.
Word Count: 1000(ish)
Author's Notes: So... this is set in an AU that I haven't posted the rest of the fic for yet. But it's Pornday and I wanted to actually participate for once so here it is. Many thanks to phoenixofborg for the AU idea, and helping with this fic.
They’re in Tim’s office, Jason watching as Tim paces the room and rants about quotas and inventories and fuck knows what else. Tim’s spent the whole day practically dragging Jason around on a leash, telling him how to direct his men, what weapons to use and how to do every little thing and Jason’s had it up to here.
“You need to look into the mob connections that Luciano Gallo has, I want to know if he can be trusted to be loyal to our operations first,” Tim says flatly.
“I don’t take orders from you, Drake.” Jason snaps.
Tim turns to him, there’s a slight sneer on his lips and his eyebrow is quirked in that condescending way he’s so fond of, “You work for me, don’t you? That means you take orders from me.”
Jason doesn’t bother replying, he just lunges forward and grabs Tim’s shoulder with one hand, pinning him against the wall and unsheathing his kris to press against Tim’s throat.
He expects Tim to fight back, or to give him another of those flat stares and order Jason off him. What he gets is this whimper, which startles him for the whole second it takes for him to realize that it wasn’t a whimper of fear or pain, but one of need.
Jason smirks, “Now that’s an interesting reaction.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Tim replies, but Jason can hear the strain in his voice.
So Jason does a little experiment by digging the point of the kris into Tim’s throat, and cutting lightly across his neck. Tim moans, and Jason feels his hips jerk forward in a way that almost seems unconscious.
“Get off me.” Tim gets out through gritted teeth.
Jason doesn’t say anything, just pins Tim with his hips, sliding his thigh between Tim’s legs and gripping one of Tim’s wrist hard enough to bruise and pinning it against the wall next to Tim’s head. Tim’s suit jacket is open and Jason pulls back enough to cut the buttons off Tim’s shirt, fascinated at the way Tim’s breath hitches every time the blade gets close to him. There’s a plain white undershirt beneath and Jason clicks his tongue in disapproval.
“We’ll have to get rid of that, won’t we?” Jason keeps his voice casual, and smirks at Tim.
“Don’t touch me,” is all he gets in reply.
Jason laughs, because if Tim wanted Jason to stop, he would have made him stop and he definitely wouldn’t be riding Jason’s thigh and moaning the way Tim is while Jason very slowly drags the tip of the knife from the collar of the undershirt down until he hits Tim’s belt, watching as blood wells up from the shallow cut it leaves on Tim’s chest.
“Having fun, Drake?” Jason asks as he puts his kris away and lays his hand on Tim’s stomach, pressing his thumb against the end of the cut and sliding it up, smearing the blood.
It takes Tim a while to answer because he’s too busy panting for breath and letting out these little desperate whimpers, “N-no.”
“Hn, what a shame. Is there anything I can do to make it more enjoyable?” To emphasize his question, Jason strokes his hand back down Tim’s chest and grips Tim’s hip tightly.
Tim practically writhes, because Jason’s stopping him from being able to rock his hips and rub himself against Jason’s thigh. Jason leans down, ducking his head and licking slowly over the cut on Tim’s throat. At the same down, he slides his hand around to grab Tim’s ass and pull Tim tight against him.
Tim makes this sound, like something between a moan and a gasp. He tenses all over, then shudders and Jason can feel it as Tim’s hips jerk and he comes. And that’s an even more interesting reaction.
Jason chuckles darkly and pulls back to admire his handiwork. Tim’s cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen and red from where he’s been biting them, and there are little shivers wracking his body as the blood slowly dries on his chest. He leans forward again, pressing his mouth against Tim’s ear.
“You’ve been keeping an interesting little secret, Drake-” Jason whispers, but he’s cut short by the press of a gun against his ribcage, “How the hell did you manage that?”
“You were distracted.” Tim says flatly, jabbing the gun harder into Jason’s ribs, and he knows he’ll have a bruise there tomorrow, “Now. Get. Off. Me.”
Jason can’t help laughing again but he does move away, letting his lips trail over Tim’s jaw and noting the way Tim’s throat works as he tries to swallow down what Jason is guessing is another moan.
Tim still has the gun pointed at Jason though, so he holds his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender and turns, walking to the door.
He doesn’t even flinch when the gun fires, he knows Tim won’t shoot him and the bullet hits the wall above Jason, showering him with plaster dust.
“You missed. Better try harder next time,” Jason says with a smirk as he brushes plaster out of his hair.
He doesn’t waste another second getting out of the room but he does wait at the door, and smiles to himself when he hears the unmistakable sound of Tim sliding down the wall to thunk down and sit on the floor. He has ammunition now, something to use against Tim in the constant little games they play with each other, and he wants to find out just how far he can push Tim. As long as he doesn’t think too hard about his own reaction.
Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Blood/knifeplay.
Word Count: 1000(ish)
Author's Notes: So... this is set in an AU that I haven't posted the rest of the fic for yet. But it's Pornday and I wanted to actually participate for once so here it is. Many thanks to phoenixofborg for the AU idea, and helping with this fic.
They’re in Tim’s office, Jason watching as Tim paces the room and rants about quotas and inventories and fuck knows what else. Tim’s spent the whole day practically dragging Jason around on a leash, telling him how to direct his men, what weapons to use and how to do every little thing and Jason’s had it up to here.
“You need to look into the mob connections that Luciano Gallo has, I want to know if he can be trusted to be loyal to our operations first,” Tim says flatly.
“I don’t take orders from you, Drake.” Jason snaps.
Tim turns to him, there’s a slight sneer on his lips and his eyebrow is quirked in that condescending way he’s so fond of, “You work for me, don’t you? That means you take orders from me.”
Jason doesn’t bother replying, he just lunges forward and grabs Tim’s shoulder with one hand, pinning him against the wall and unsheathing his kris to press against Tim’s throat.
He expects Tim to fight back, or to give him another of those flat stares and order Jason off him. What he gets is this whimper, which startles him for the whole second it takes for him to realize that it wasn’t a whimper of fear or pain, but one of need.
Jason smirks, “Now that’s an interesting reaction.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Tim replies, but Jason can hear the strain in his voice.
So Jason does a little experiment by digging the point of the kris into Tim’s throat, and cutting lightly across his neck. Tim moans, and Jason feels his hips jerk forward in a way that almost seems unconscious.
“Get off me.” Tim gets out through gritted teeth.
Jason doesn’t say anything, just pins Tim with his hips, sliding his thigh between Tim’s legs and gripping one of Tim’s wrist hard enough to bruise and pinning it against the wall next to Tim’s head. Tim’s suit jacket is open and Jason pulls back enough to cut the buttons off Tim’s shirt, fascinated at the way Tim’s breath hitches every time the blade gets close to him. There’s a plain white undershirt beneath and Jason clicks his tongue in disapproval.
“We’ll have to get rid of that, won’t we?” Jason keeps his voice casual, and smirks at Tim.
“Don’t touch me,” is all he gets in reply.
Jason laughs, because if Tim wanted Jason to stop, he would have made him stop and he definitely wouldn’t be riding Jason’s thigh and moaning the way Tim is while Jason very slowly drags the tip of the knife from the collar of the undershirt down until he hits Tim’s belt, watching as blood wells up from the shallow cut it leaves on Tim’s chest.
“Having fun, Drake?” Jason asks as he puts his kris away and lays his hand on Tim’s stomach, pressing his thumb against the end of the cut and sliding it up, smearing the blood.
It takes Tim a while to answer because he’s too busy panting for breath and letting out these little desperate whimpers, “N-no.”
“Hn, what a shame. Is there anything I can do to make it more enjoyable?” To emphasize his question, Jason strokes his hand back down Tim’s chest and grips Tim’s hip tightly.
Tim practically writhes, because Jason’s stopping him from being able to rock his hips and rub himself against Jason’s thigh. Jason leans down, ducking his head and licking slowly over the cut on Tim’s throat. At the same down, he slides his hand around to grab Tim’s ass and pull Tim tight against him.
Tim makes this sound, like something between a moan and a gasp. He tenses all over, then shudders and Jason can feel it as Tim’s hips jerk and he comes. And that’s an even more interesting reaction.
Jason chuckles darkly and pulls back to admire his handiwork. Tim’s cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen and red from where he’s been biting them, and there are little shivers wracking his body as the blood slowly dries on his chest. He leans forward again, pressing his mouth against Tim’s ear.
“You’ve been keeping an interesting little secret, Drake-” Jason whispers, but he’s cut short by the press of a gun against his ribcage, “How the hell did you manage that?”
“You were distracted.” Tim says flatly, jabbing the gun harder into Jason’s ribs, and he knows he’ll have a bruise there tomorrow, “Now. Get. Off. Me.”
Jason can’t help laughing again but he does move away, letting his lips trail over Tim’s jaw and noting the way Tim’s throat works as he tries to swallow down what Jason is guessing is another moan.
Tim still has the gun pointed at Jason though, so he holds his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender and turns, walking to the door.
He doesn’t even flinch when the gun fires, he knows Tim won’t shoot him and the bullet hits the wall above Jason, showering him with plaster dust.
“You missed. Better try harder next time,” Jason says with a smirk as he brushes plaster out of his hair.
He doesn’t waste another second getting out of the room but he does wait at the door, and smiles to himself when he hears the unmistakable sound of Tim sliding down the wall to thunk down and sit on the floor. He has ammunition now, something to use against Tim in the constant little games they play with each other, and he wants to find out just how far he can push Tim. As long as he doesn’t think too hard about his own reaction.