fic: You've got to rock yourself a little harder (DCU; Tim/Tam/Steph; adult)
You've got to rock yourself a little harder
Red Robin/Batgirl (v3); Tim/Steph/Tam; adult; 6,290 words
Things like this don't happen to Tim.
Let's just ignore Red Robin 25. Title from Josh Ritter. Thanks so much to silveronthetree for cheerleading and to
snacky for looking it over.
~*~
You've got to rock yourself a little harder
"No," Tim says, and shakes his head to emphasize his disagreement and disapproval of this whole plan. "Tam is a civilian. She shouldn't--"
"Tam is the one who gave us the tip," Steph interrupts, straightening up from where she's leaning against one edge of the console. "She knows some of the people involved and the layout of the house better than we do. I think she'd be really helpful."
"No."
Babs looks away from her monitors for a second, catching and holding Tim's gaze. "Steph has a point. And Tam has shown herself to be cool under pressure. You said so yourself."
"No," Tim says, as if saying it again will make it stick this time. He can already feel the futility of arguing, especially if all three of them are against him, but he can't help it. It's difficult enough to work with Steph, even though she's stronger and better than she's ever been before; at least he knows Steph is trained and has Bruce's blessing. "I'm not putting Tam in the line of fire like this." Since Steph is obviously not going to be swayed by common sense, he appeals to Babs. "I'm surprised you're even considering it."
"Tam is standing right here and can speak for herself," Tam says, hands on her hips and mouth twisting in annoyance. "I'm the one who was actually invited to the party, I'm the one who knows one of the girls who was raped, and if you don't let me go with you, I'll go by myself. I came to you because I thought you'd let me help."
"If the press gets wind of it," he starts, but Tam cuts him off with a huff.
"I don't think Vicki Vale is going to be staking out tonight's Kappa Theta Psi party."
"We could do disguises," Steph says, sounding way too into the idea. "I know how much you love dressing up."
"That's a great idea," Tam says with an equal amount of disturbing enthusiasm.
Tim forces himself not to grind his teeth. Steph's disguises are as bad as Dick's; the thought of dealing with that on top of everything else tonight is almost physically painful.
"I don't think that'll be necessary," Babs says, and Tim is tempted to prostrate himself at her feet in gratitude. He settles for letting one corner of his mouth quirk up briefly, knowing that she'll catch it and understand. "Vicki Vale is in Paris, chasing after Bruce."
Tim grudgingly accepts this setback and opens his mouth to continue the argument and then closes it under the weight of the combined glares of the three women facing him. He sighs and gives in, holding his hands up in surrender. It'll be safer for everyone to have Tam in on the plan (and under his watchful eye) than having her there on her own, getting in the way.
Steph says, "I'm telling you, this plan is going to work. You won't even get the chance to say, 'I told you so.'"
He gives her a grudging half-smile. "There goes my fun for the evening."
"I'm sure we'll come up with something you'll enjoy," she says, leaning over to nudge him in the ribs with an elbow. "If you know what I mean."
"I don't enjoy anything anymore." He keeps his voice dry and hopes his blush isn't visible.
Steph cocks her head and puts a finger to her chin. "You know, I've heard that."
"Children," Babs says, but Tim can hear the affection in it. "Don't you have a party to get ready for?"
*
The party is weird, because it's both exactly like all the frat parties Tim's seen in movies and on TV, and absolutely nothing like them at all. Everyone's holding red plastic cups full of beer or some kind of punch that stains their tongues blue, and in the kitchen there is, in fact, a very blond guy drinking beer through a funnel from a keg while other drunk guys cheer him on. The place smells like stale beer and gym socks and too much hair care product. The music is so loud it's practically solid, vibrating up through the soles of Tim's boots and pressing down against his skin. The girls are pretty but not Hollywood vacuous, and in the middle of the area in the living room that's supposed to be a dance floor, Steph and Tam are bumping and grinding like they're getting paid for it.
He wanders the perimeter of the room, trying to see everything, but he keeps getting distracted by Steph and Tam. He grabs a bottle of water from a cooler and makes sure it's sealed shut before he cracks it open. He chokes on a mouthful when he sees Steph grab Tam's ass and rub up against her. And then she glances back over her shoulder, picks him out of the crowd, and winks.
He can hear Oracle asking if he's okay beneath the thump of the bass, and he mutters, "Everything's under control." Maybe if he keeps saying it, it'll be true. Unfortunately, he's never been a big believer in magical thinking.
Oracle's "Mm hmm," sounds entirely too skeptical, so he decides to ignore it.
He wonders what Dick would do in this situation, and then stops and actually shakes his head, because that is entirely the wrong question. Or, at least, the answer isn't something Tim is at all comfortable with. Better to think about what Bruce would do, and that's uncomfortable in a completely different and brain-scarring way, but at least he's not hard anymore. He glances over at the dance floor again and has to take another long gulp of cold water, because now Tam's got her hands tangled in Steph's hair and her tongue in Steph's mouth. That's further than he expected them to go in their little charade, and now he wonders just how well they know each other.
He cuts off that line of thought as unproductive. He's not here to ogle them, he's here to protect them and keep an eye out for the rapist. He glances around the room at the various couples in various states of hooking up, and amends his previous thought. There's probably more than one rapist at this party, but their guy is a lot more upfront and violent about it.
He's circled the room forty-seven times, turned down drinks from three girls and an offer to get stoned from one guy, and is starting to wonder if his hearing will be permanently damaged by the volume of the music when Steph catches his eye. There's a skinny, bearded guy in a Yankees cap clocking them on the dance floor. He fits the description Tam's friend had given the police, and in his earpiece, Tim can hear Steph say to Tam, "I'm gonna go find the ladies room," before she heads up the stairs to the second floor.
The Yankees fan follows her and Tim follows him and then waits. He hates this part, because so many things could go wrong. The music is muted up here, and he leans against a wall, willing himself to be invisible in case anyone else comes up before this is over. There's a thump and Tim's moving even before he hears the shatter of glass hitting the ground.
By the time he gets the door to the bathroom open, the guy is moaning and rolling around on the floor in the fetal position, hands clutching his groin. He doesn't even seem to notice the shards of glass glittering on the tile. Tim suppresses the urge to flinch in automatic sympathy--Steph's wearing steel-toed boots.
"911 is on the way," Oracle says. "Try not to elaborate too much in your statements."
"I know what I'm doing," Steph answers as she ties the guy's hands behind his back. She gives Tim big, bright smile. "Do I get to say I told you so?"
"No."
She pouts. "You're no fun."
"Didn't you mention doing something about that?" he says mildly. He misses this sometimes, misses the back-and-forth of things with Steph, though he knows it's just nostalgia making him think it was easier back when he was Robin and she was Spoiler. It's always been complicated. He's not sure it ever won't be.
He's a little startled by the intensity of the look he gets in return. And, if he's being honest, a little turned on.
"Oh," she says, and it's practically a purr, "I think you'll enjoy what I have planned."
It's simple enough to play the clueless frat boy with the cops and then slip away while they question the rest of the crowd. He's not Tim Drake-Wayne tonight--he's using one of the new identities Lonnie's set up for him--and when he surveys the crowd of party-goers, he can see that Tam's already made herself scarce. The last thing either of them needs is more press. Anyone who recognized her on the dance floor probably can't decide if he's the luckiest or unluckiest guy in Gotham. One more complication to deal with.
Just once, he'd like for something to be simple.
The night is warm and humid as he makes his way towards the rendezvous point where he's supposed to meet Steph and Tam. He runs a hand through his hair and thinks vaguely about getting it cut--it definitely gets sweaty under the cowl, which had taken longer than he'd expected to get used to, and secretly, he's kind of grateful not to be wearing it tonight. Maybe he'll go back to a domino. That costume he'd had in the unternet had been pretty cool. And maybe Kon would stop calling him Condom Boy.
He's speccing it out in his head when he hears the giggling, which he hadn't expected to hear once the charade from the party was no longer necessary. But Steph's always enjoyed the work, always had more fun with it than Bruce thought appropriate, and Tim wonders when he lost that himself. He seems to remembering having had it once, back when he'd first put on the uniform.
The giggling shakes him out of his reverie, and he prepares a friendly smile, which feels sadly fake, though he's pretty sure they won't be able to tell the difference. He's trying to think of something witty to say when he rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks at the sight that greets him: Steph is pressing Tam up against the red brick wall of an old building, her mouth on Tam's neck and her thigh pressed up between Tam's legs. Tam's head is tipped back and her mouth is open and gasping.
Tim knows staring is wrong, but he can't seem to help himself.
Details jump out at him: one of Tam's hands, the nails neatly manicured and painted red for tonight, is on Steph's ass, and the other is up underneath her shirt. Which is about as far as he ever got with Steph, back when they were dating, and not because she wasn't interested in going further. It just hadn't seemed important then; too many other things were a priority and sex was something that would happen someday, with her or with someone else. He tended not to allow himself to indulge in fantasies, because it made it harder to look people in the eye afterwards, and he still had to work, and occasionally live, with them. Now that his life has settled down a little, he finds it harder to adhere to that austerity.
Steph's hands are on Tam's hips, her thumbs dipping below the waistband of Tam's jeans. Tim wonders if the skin there is soft and warm and ticklish, if Steph's using her nails to raise goosebumps and make Tam shiver. He wonders what it would feel like if Steph touched him like that, while he touched Tam. He knows what he'll be thinking about tonight when he showers, and probably again once he finally goes to bed.
He swallows hard and forces the thoughts away. They're both inappropriate and unprofessional.
Steph slides her mouth along the curve of Tam's throat, her eyes fluttering open, her heavy-lidded glance an acknowledgement and an invitation. Tim can see the even line of her teeth when she nips at the hinge of Tam's jaw, then licks at skin there. Tam's breath hitches.
"Hey," Steph says, and Tam's eyes open wide; they look black in the darkness, pupils large and round and seeking the light. Her lips are shiny, wet from Steph's kisses. He swallows hard.
"Tim." Tam's voice is low and full of laughter. The sound of it hooks around something in the vicinity of his ribcage and pulls like she's opening him up.
Steph laughs and holds out a hand, beckoning.
Tim stands there in the alley like he's put down roots, his feet too heavy to move. He catalogues everything in sight, finds no sign of anything weird or out of place. Just the two girls--his ex and his fake fiancée, his maybe was and maybe will be--entangled and Steph's outstretched hand.
"O, has Poison Ivy been sighted in the area?"
"She's still in Arkham." She laughs in his ear. "There's not much else going on tonight. B and R can handle anything that comes up, so I think I'll give you kids some privacy. Have fun." And though there's no change in the quality of the silence, he knows she's gone.
Steph presses a kiss to Tam's cheek, puts her lips up against Tam's ear. "He likes to watch," she says in a stage whisper, mouth curved in a knowing grin.
Tam giggles. He'd never taken her for a giggler. It's a new and slightly disturbing side of her. He wonders if someone roofied her even under his careful observation, but her eyes are clear and bright and knowing when she catches his gaze.
Tim feels the flush climbing his cheeks and forces himself not to gasp; he clenches his fingers against his suddenly sweaty palms and tries to ignore the incessant pulse of blood in his veins, the heat pooling low in his belly.
"I--" It comes out hoarse, and he has to clear his throat to continue. "I didn't mean to interrupt." He hates being at a loss. They're not his teammates; despite his attempts to take charge of this particular mission, they don't answer to him, and even if they did, there's nothing to scold them for now that the job is done. They should be distracted enough to let him make a quick and stealthy get away, except for the fact that they're both watching him almost as closely as he's watching them.
"We knew you were coming," Steph says.
Which is true. Which means they wanted him to see. He's not sure what to do with that. "Right. I'll just--"
"Join us?" Tam asks.
He chews the cuticle on his thumb, then forces himself to stop. "I'm not--I don't--Um." Things like this don't happen to him. They happen to Dick, though probably not as often now that he's Batman, and he can hear Dick laughing at him and telling him to go for it.
Steph and Tam disentangle themselves and stalk towards him. There's definitely something gleefully predatory about them both, and they're terrifying in a way that madmen with guns or telepathic gorillas just aren't.
"It's okay," Steph says. "If you're not, um, interested, we'll leave you alone."
"But you were watching us all night," Tam says, "and we thought it might be fun to, you know..."
"It was my job to watch you," he says, louder than he means to. Just like it was their job to pretend to be together to make themselves targets.
"Yeah," Steph says, "but you seemed to enjoy it."
"I wasn't--I didn't--"
Steph raises an incredulous eyebrow and he can imagine her practicing that in the mirror, trying to imitate Babs or maybe even him. That makes him flush even hotter.
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," is what he says, though.
"Well, we were putting on a show," Steph says.
Tam puts a hand on his arm. "And we didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
It's his turn to raise an eyebrow in disbelief.
"No, we totally did," Steph says. "Well, flustered, anyway. You're cute when you're flustered." She leans in and gives him a quick, soft kiss. He licks his lips and imagines they taste of Steph's cherry lip balm. "But if you're really not okay--"
"I'm okay," he says, and the thing is, he's not lying. "I'm definitely okay, I just--I don't like surprises."
This time it's Tam who gives him a kiss. It lasts a little longer than Steph's, has just a hint of tongue and spearmint. "It's better than a million ninjas," she says when she draws away.
He lets himself smile. "It really is." He breathes in, smells Tam's cucumber soap and Steph's vanilla lotion overlaying the usual scents of the city, and glances from one to the other. "Are you sure?"
"Only if you are," Steph answers, holding his gaze.
He appreciates that she's giving him an out, even though he kind of wishes she hadn't. He's not generally someone who gets swept up in the moment--usually, he gets swept up by other people who get swept up, and usually, it's his job to unsweep them.
"You look like you've got a little brain-freeze going on," Tam says. She touches his cheek, her fingertips warm and soft on his skin.
"That's because all the blood in his body is headed south," Steph says, giggling and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She takes his hand. "Let's go."
"What--I mean, where--I mean--"
"You don't have to go through all five Ws," Steph says, laughter lingering in her voice. "We can get a hotel room or something."
"I know a place," he says. "A few blocks away."
"I bet you do," Steph says, amused approval in her voice. "I bet you know more than one."
"That'd be telling," he answers, though it's true and they all know it.
*
The apartment he leads them to is small--a barely furnished one bedroom with a view of a brick wall. He's not sure when Dick set it up, but he gave Tim keys to it after they'd gotten back from their trip around the world. He'd checked it out, of course, but a glance in the night table drawer had made him feel too awkward to go back. While he's pretty sure Bruce knows about it, he's also pretty sure it's not wired the way various other places are, or Dick wouldn't have been so casual about it; there are security cameras over the entrance and exit, but that's it.
As he takes off his boots, he can hear them making out behind him, brain filling in the images when he closes his eyes, and he wonders again if this is a bad idea. He places his boots neatly by the door, next to Tam's sparkly sandals; he gathers up Steph's boots and socks and lines them up as well, the mundane action giving him a few moments to catch his breath and rethink what they're doing.
"Hey, Tim," Steph says, grabbing his hand, and there's the decision made for him, and for once, he's going to just go along and stop trying to analyze what everyone is doing. "Hey." He lets her turn him around, pull him into a kiss, this one deeper and wetter than the one she'd given him in the alley. For all that it's familiar, there's something new in it, too, more confident, less hesitant than she used to be. Which is a little frightening, because she's never been the cautious type. The heat of her mouth calls up answering heat in his veins and he makes a harsh sound low in his throat. He's embarrassed, but he can feel her smile against his mouth, which makes him feel less awkward.
When she pulls away, Tam says, "My turn," and then she's kissing him. She's more tentative, less familiar. Her hand is warm and soft against his cheek, without the calluses Steph's developed. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he rests them on her hips, the way Steph had in the alley. She slides her tongue along his and his grip on her tightens. She moans softly and the sound goes straight to his dick, which has been half-hard for most of the night. Tam sighs when she leans back, a dreamy look in her eyes.
Steph is nowhere to be seen when Tim opens his eyes. "Steph?"
"In here," she calls from the bedroom. He takes Tam's hand and leads her there. Steph is bouncing on the bed. "I love the fact that you have no furniture, but you've got a king-size bed with million-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets." She stills, leans back on her elbows--Tim can't help but notice the way her top pulls across her breasts--and gazes up at them through her lashes. "Dick totally set this place up, didn't he?"
"Not Alfred?"
"Alfred wouldn't have picked such an ugly lamp." She pulls the chain and dim light spills through the tasseled, paisley shade, illuminating a base that's shaped like a duck.
Tim laughs, and it's a little higher-pitched and more nervous-sounding than he'd like. God, he would feel a lot less anxious and a lot more relaxed about this if he were in costume. He tries not to think about how fucked up that is.
Tam's hands slide around his waist, up under his shirt, and her mouth is warm on the side of his neck. Her hands dip below his waistband and he shivers. He turns his head and captures her mouth for another kiss. He likes kissing. It's familiar and exciting and it keeps him from thinking about the other things they might be doing in a bit, things that are exciting but unfamiliar.
"Mm, that's nice," Steph says, watching them with avid, heavy-lidded eyes. "Why don't you bring it on over here?"
They join her on the bed, which suddenly seems a lot smaller, though it's still big enough that they could probably all sleep in it without touching. That might be more comfortable, but it'd be a lot less interesting. And also, Tim can admit to himself, a lot less fun.
Steph leans over and kisses him, the brush of her hair tickling his skin. He can feel Tam pressed up against his right side, her hands unbuttoning his shirt. Steph moves away from him and leans further, just as Tam raises her face to meet the kiss. Tim watches as Tam's pink tongue slides between Steph's pink lips; he can hear the ragged rasp of their breathing amid the wet sounds of their making out.
Steph shifts so that she's straddling him, and he can feel the heat of her even through two pairs of jeans. She rolls her hips and he arches up against her automatically, then flushes when she stops kissing Tam long enough to laugh breathlessly and say, "You like that, huh? You really do like to watch."
He shrugs a shoulder. He could probably lie with a straight face even now, but his body gives him away, and it's not like Steph doesn't already know this about him anyway. "You don't seem to mind." He doesn't mean to sound defensive.
"I don't," Steph says. She kisses him and grinds down against him and he moans into her mouth. He can feel her breathing stutter; when he opens his eyes, Tam is licking her neck. Tam gives him a smile when she notices him looking, and then she leans up to kiss him as soon as Steph pulls back.
He's having a hard time breathing by the time Tam ends the kiss.
"How do you want to do this?" she asks, and her mouth is still close enough to Tim's that he can taste her breath.
"I don't--I've never--Steph?" Tim's not sure if his face is burning from lust or embarrassment, and he's not sure he even cares.
Steph looks uncertain for the first time all night, but then her expression smoothes out. "I think we're all wearing too many clothes," she says. "Why don't we take care of that and then, um, we can see what happens."
She reaches down and finishes unbuttoning Tim's shirt, then shoves it off his shoulders. He pulls his t-shirt up over his head as quickly as possible, not wanting to miss anything (or embarrass himself completely) by getting his head stuck in it.
Tam's slinky shirt is gone and Steph is sliding a lacy red bra down her arms, though she keeps getting distracted by Tam's breasts, which are high and full and tipped with taut brown nipples Steph keeps leaning into to suck.
"Can I?" he asks, reaching out a hand. Tam grabs it and puts it on her breast--tit, he thinks. Kon would tell him to stop being so pedantic, though Kon wouldn't actually say pedantic; he'd say, Tim, stop being a freak, and Tim's pretty sure he's not supposed to be thinking of Kon right now, but his brain can't process any of that while his hand is full of soft, firm flesh covered in silky skin. He rubs his thumb over the nipple, up and down first, and then in a circle, and watches the way Tam's hips jerk, listens to how her breath hitches at the touch, the little low noises she makes.
"That's good," she says, her voice low and rough.
"Mm," Steph chimes in, "I can tell she likes it." Tim glances down to see that Steph's got her fingers two knuckles deep in the dark hair between Tam's legs, her wrist flexing slowly. She draws the hand out and he can see moisture on her fingertips. She offers them to Tim. "You wanna taste?"
He swallows hard and leans up to suck them into his mouth, the taste salty and rich. Tam makes another little choked-off noise and then she's kissing him again, licking into his mouth around Steph's fingers, until she moves them away. He wonders if Tam can taste herself on his tongue.
Tim can hear his blood rushing in his ears and his dick is so hard it hurts. He's vaguely aware of Steph's hands, carefully unzipping his jeans, and he sighs into Tam's mouth when they're finally off and he can rub up against her belly without anything in the way.
Steph licks her palm, reaches in between them and curls her slick, wet fingers around him and strokes.
"Wait," he says. Steph stops immediately and gives him a concerned look. He doesn't know if it's possible for him to get any redder than he already is, but he feels himself flush again, ears burning with embarrassment. "If you do that, I'm going to come."
She laughs. "That's kind of the point, Tim."
"But you and Tam--"
Tam kisses him gently. "Don't worry about us."
The grin Steph gives him is wicked. "Yeah, Tim, don't worry about us. While you're getting ready for round two, we can take care of ourselves."
Tim swallows hard at the images that crowd his mind. "And I can watch?" His voice is low and rough--he doesn't sound like himself at all.
"Duh. Yeah."
"O-okay." He stutters the word out because Steph's thumb slides over the slit, spreads the bead of precome down along the shaft. Her hand keeps moving, stroking him fast and hard, calluses providing just the right amount of friction over the slickness of precome and saliva. Tam's hands are soft; she doesn't have any calluses. She fondles his balls and then presses at the sensitive spot behind them. He can't concentrate on anything but that, all sensation narrowing down to their hands on his cock, the tightening of his balls, and the lightning strike of pleasure that jolts through him when he comes.
Steph pauses in licking her fingers clean to stick her tongue out at him, and he doesn't have enough air to do more than huff a small laugh, which makes her grin. She slithers over him, so that she and Tam are tangled together beside him. Their kisses are noisy, wet, and sloppy, and when he's able to focus enough to turn his head to look at them, Steph's sucking on one of Tam's breasts and her hand is working between Tam's legs. Tam's got one hand tangled in Steph's sweaty hair and the other fisted in the sheets. She's arching into the touches, her mouth open and gasping, and Tim wants to record every writhe and moan. He's got a great memory, but he wishes he had a camera so that he could remember every detail, have it etched in ink and paper forever. He makes a mental note to check again for cameras; he definitely wants a copy of the recording if it exists.
Tam holds out a hand--the one that was curled up in the sheets--to him. "C'mere."
He crawls down the bed to kneel between her legs and watches, fascinated, as Steph fingers her. He leans in closer for a better look, out of curiosity as much as arousal. He licks his lips and asks again, "Can I?"
"Please," Tam says, and she sounds like she means it, so Tim moves even closer. He breathes in the rich, earthy scent of her and puts a tentative hand on her thigh, keeping his balance as he presses his tongue to the slick folds of her--he's not sure what word to use. He knows all the clinical anatomical terms, but he's spent enough time in locker rooms (not to mention the Gotham City school system) and watching porn with Kon to know this is probably the time and place for slang terms. He's just not comfortable with any of them. He figures it doesn't really matter, because he's not using his mouth to talk at the moment.
He licks around Steph's fingers and sucks on Tam's clit. Her hips come up off the bed, harder than he expects, but he holds on and keeps licking and sucking. He's hard again, and his hips move, too, seeking friction against the soft sheets.
"Tim," she says, "oh, god, Tim. Steph." She gives a long, hoarse moan and her hand lands in Tim's hair and pulls. The leg he's not holding onto flails out and hits the night table and the ugly duck lamp goes crashing to the floor, the light flickering out.
Tam is too blissed out to notice, but Steph looks up and meets Tim's gaze, and the two of them start laughing.
"I don't know if the bulb survived, but the duck is unfortunately intact," he says. "On the upside, that means I won't have to explain to Dick how we broke it."
"I'm sure if Dick knew how it happened, he'd be proud."
Tim flushes. "Point."
Steph grabs his arm when he moves to pick it up. "Leave it," she says. "Maybe one of us will step on it later and put it out of its misery." She gives him a kiss that she probably meant to be quick but he holds her close and sucks her tongue into his mouth. He puts his hands on her shoulders and rolls her onto her back, landing between her legs.
"Hi."
She grins up at him. "Hi."
Tam presses a kiss to his shoulder and then leans past him to kiss Steph. "Your turn," she says.
Steph looks up at him and for the first time since this whole thing started, he can see uncertainty in her eyes. "Tim?" She brushes the sweaty hair off his forehead and he can smell Tam on her fingers; his dick aches remembering the way she'd jerked him off, and he thrusts against her belly once before he gets himself under control again. "If you don't want to--"
He kisses her again, and takes her hand and wraps it around his dick. "I do. I've just never--I never have before. "
Her eyes go wide. "Oh. I thought--" She looks away. "I thought, before, when you didn't--" Her voice hitches a little and goes very soft. "I thought it was because you didn't want me."
It hurts and he doesn't know what to say, except, "Wanting you was never the problem." It's the truth, if not the whole truth, but she of all people knows how complicated his life was then, and how many different ways his words can be parsed.
Her smile is bright enough to light the room. "Do you want me now?"
"Yes." He thrusts into her hand to punctuate his answer. "There are condoms in the drawer."
She lets out a little huff of laughter. "Of course there are."
He leans over to get one and snorts when he sees what else is in the drawer; he remembers the condoms and the three varieties of lube, but the fur-lined handcuffs and the strap-on are new additions since the last time he checked. He reaches down with his other hand and squeezes the base of his cock.
Steph shifts up onto her elbow to have a look and then she laughs again. "Given the amount of time Robin spends tied up, can you really say you're surprised?"
Tim makes a sound that wants to be a word but the vowels have all gotten stuck in his throat; it doesn’t matter, though, because she's kissing him again, swallowing down the sounds he makes like she understands them. Maybe she does. He shouldn't underestimate her, especially not when her hand is on his cock. She helps him roll the condom on, and then he's sliding inside the tight, wet heat of her...cunt, hips moving like they've got a mind of their own, and he's not used to his body taking the lead like that.
"That's good," she says. "Oh, Tim, yeah, that's good." She keeps talking, saying the same things over and over again, like lyrics looped over the drumbeat of his blood pounding in his ears, as loud as and even more demanding than the music at the party.
He can feel a hand between them--he looks down and sees Tam's perfectly manicured fingers rubbing at Steph's clit while he fucks into her. He's mesmerized by the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her, the way her body curls up to meet him. While he's trying to get his brain back online, Tam is pressing kisses to Steph's breasts, rubbing at her nipples, and he thinks, oh, because that seems like a really good idea. He's a little surprised he didn't think of it before, but his capacity for thinking seems to have diminished to previously unknown levels. He'd be worried about that but he's too busy having sex. Right, he reminds himself, Steph's breasts. He bends forward and licks at them, tasting sweat and the lingering hints of lotion.
Tam is moving around and opening the drawer, and then he feels a cool, slick finger slide down the cleft of his ass and then circle his hole. His hips jerk forward again, this time in surprise.
She rests her head on his shoulder. "Tim? Is this okay?"
"Yeah," he says, his voice sounding strangled. "Yeah, Tam. Yeah."
She works a finger slowly inside him and it's weird and hot and weird, and then Steph clenches tight around him, again and again, and Tam's finger rubs against his prostate and he comes with a hoarse shout that Steph swallows down with a deep, messy kiss.
He gets rid of the condom and finds some wipes in the bathroom, and they spend a little time cleaning up, his body heavy with the lassitude of two really mind-blowing orgasms. Shaking his head, he picks up the lamp; there has to be a story behind it. Even Dick's taste isn't that egregious. Done with that, he stands there, unsure what to do, as Tam and Steph make themselves comfortable on the bed.
He wonders if this post-coital awkwardness is common, or if other people just instinctively know how to deal with it gracefully.
"Come on, Tim," Steph says. "Come to bed. I told my mom I was spending the night with friends, so I don't have to rush home."
They make a space between them for him, and he settles into it, tension at being socially awkward starting to overwhelm the relaxation. He doesn't know what comes next. Steph pulls his right arm around her, and Tam snuggles under his left. He's in no place to have a relationship with either of them, let alone both, and he should tell them that. He can just imagine how that conversation goes. Thanks for deflowering me with awesome three-way sex, but I'm afraid I can't make any commitments at this time. He wonders if there's a Miss Manners for sex and why he never wondered about it before. Dick would probably know, though he finds it difficult to imagine Dick ever being socially awkward. He doesn't even consider discussing it with Bruce.
"Stop thinking so loud, Tim," Tam says sleepily.
"You can obsess and freak out in the morning," Steph adds, barely intelligible through a massive yawn. "For now, just close your eyes and sleep."
He lies awake for a while, listening to the two of them sleep, before he finally surrenders to it himself. Just this once, thinking about the consequences can wait until morning.
end
~*~
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~*~
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Red Robin/Batgirl (v3); Tim/Steph/Tam; adult; 6,290 words
Things like this don't happen to Tim.
Let's just ignore Red Robin 25. Title from Josh Ritter. Thanks so much to silveronthetree for cheerleading and to
snacky for looking it over.
~*~
You've got to rock yourself a little harder
"No," Tim says, and shakes his head to emphasize his disagreement and disapproval of this whole plan. "Tam is a civilian. She shouldn't--"
"Tam is the one who gave us the tip," Steph interrupts, straightening up from where she's leaning against one edge of the console. "She knows some of the people involved and the layout of the house better than we do. I think she'd be really helpful."
"No."
Babs looks away from her monitors for a second, catching and holding Tim's gaze. "Steph has a point. And Tam has shown herself to be cool under pressure. You said so yourself."
"No," Tim says, as if saying it again will make it stick this time. He can already feel the futility of arguing, especially if all three of them are against him, but he can't help it. It's difficult enough to work with Steph, even though she's stronger and better than she's ever been before; at least he knows Steph is trained and has Bruce's blessing. "I'm not putting Tam in the line of fire like this." Since Steph is obviously not going to be swayed by common sense, he appeals to Babs. "I'm surprised you're even considering it."
"Tam is standing right here and can speak for herself," Tam says, hands on her hips and mouth twisting in annoyance. "I'm the one who was actually invited to the party, I'm the one who knows one of the girls who was raped, and if you don't let me go with you, I'll go by myself. I came to you because I thought you'd let me help."
"If the press gets wind of it," he starts, but Tam cuts him off with a huff.
"I don't think Vicki Vale is going to be staking out tonight's Kappa Theta Psi party."
"We could do disguises," Steph says, sounding way too into the idea. "I know how much you love dressing up."
"That's a great idea," Tam says with an equal amount of disturbing enthusiasm.
Tim forces himself not to grind his teeth. Steph's disguises are as bad as Dick's; the thought of dealing with that on top of everything else tonight is almost physically painful.
"I don't think that'll be necessary," Babs says, and Tim is tempted to prostrate himself at her feet in gratitude. He settles for letting one corner of his mouth quirk up briefly, knowing that she'll catch it and understand. "Vicki Vale is in Paris, chasing after Bruce."
Tim grudgingly accepts this setback and opens his mouth to continue the argument and then closes it under the weight of the combined glares of the three women facing him. He sighs and gives in, holding his hands up in surrender. It'll be safer for everyone to have Tam in on the plan (and under his watchful eye) than having her there on her own, getting in the way.
Steph says, "I'm telling you, this plan is going to work. You won't even get the chance to say, 'I told you so.'"
He gives her a grudging half-smile. "There goes my fun for the evening."
"I'm sure we'll come up with something you'll enjoy," she says, leaning over to nudge him in the ribs with an elbow. "If you know what I mean."
"I don't enjoy anything anymore." He keeps his voice dry and hopes his blush isn't visible.
Steph cocks her head and puts a finger to her chin. "You know, I've heard that."
"Children," Babs says, but Tim can hear the affection in it. "Don't you have a party to get ready for?"
*
The party is weird, because it's both exactly like all the frat parties Tim's seen in movies and on TV, and absolutely nothing like them at all. Everyone's holding red plastic cups full of beer or some kind of punch that stains their tongues blue, and in the kitchen there is, in fact, a very blond guy drinking beer through a funnel from a keg while other drunk guys cheer him on. The place smells like stale beer and gym socks and too much hair care product. The music is so loud it's practically solid, vibrating up through the soles of Tim's boots and pressing down against his skin. The girls are pretty but not Hollywood vacuous, and in the middle of the area in the living room that's supposed to be a dance floor, Steph and Tam are bumping and grinding like they're getting paid for it.
He wanders the perimeter of the room, trying to see everything, but he keeps getting distracted by Steph and Tam. He grabs a bottle of water from a cooler and makes sure it's sealed shut before he cracks it open. He chokes on a mouthful when he sees Steph grab Tam's ass and rub up against her. And then she glances back over her shoulder, picks him out of the crowd, and winks.
He can hear Oracle asking if he's okay beneath the thump of the bass, and he mutters, "Everything's under control." Maybe if he keeps saying it, it'll be true. Unfortunately, he's never been a big believer in magical thinking.
Oracle's "Mm hmm," sounds entirely too skeptical, so he decides to ignore it.
He wonders what Dick would do in this situation, and then stops and actually shakes his head, because that is entirely the wrong question. Or, at least, the answer isn't something Tim is at all comfortable with. Better to think about what Bruce would do, and that's uncomfortable in a completely different and brain-scarring way, but at least he's not hard anymore. He glances over at the dance floor again and has to take another long gulp of cold water, because now Tam's got her hands tangled in Steph's hair and her tongue in Steph's mouth. That's further than he expected them to go in their little charade, and now he wonders just how well they know each other.
He cuts off that line of thought as unproductive. He's not here to ogle them, he's here to protect them and keep an eye out for the rapist. He glances around the room at the various couples in various states of hooking up, and amends his previous thought. There's probably more than one rapist at this party, but their guy is a lot more upfront and violent about it.
He's circled the room forty-seven times, turned down drinks from three girls and an offer to get stoned from one guy, and is starting to wonder if his hearing will be permanently damaged by the volume of the music when Steph catches his eye. There's a skinny, bearded guy in a Yankees cap clocking them on the dance floor. He fits the description Tam's friend had given the police, and in his earpiece, Tim can hear Steph say to Tam, "I'm gonna go find the ladies room," before she heads up the stairs to the second floor.
The Yankees fan follows her and Tim follows him and then waits. He hates this part, because so many things could go wrong. The music is muted up here, and he leans against a wall, willing himself to be invisible in case anyone else comes up before this is over. There's a thump and Tim's moving even before he hears the shatter of glass hitting the ground.
By the time he gets the door to the bathroom open, the guy is moaning and rolling around on the floor in the fetal position, hands clutching his groin. He doesn't even seem to notice the shards of glass glittering on the tile. Tim suppresses the urge to flinch in automatic sympathy--Steph's wearing steel-toed boots.
"911 is on the way," Oracle says. "Try not to elaborate too much in your statements."
"I know what I'm doing," Steph answers as she ties the guy's hands behind his back. She gives Tim big, bright smile. "Do I get to say I told you so?"
"No."
She pouts. "You're no fun."
"Didn't you mention doing something about that?" he says mildly. He misses this sometimes, misses the back-and-forth of things with Steph, though he knows it's just nostalgia making him think it was easier back when he was Robin and she was Spoiler. It's always been complicated. He's not sure it ever won't be.
He's a little startled by the intensity of the look he gets in return. And, if he's being honest, a little turned on.
"Oh," she says, and it's practically a purr, "I think you'll enjoy what I have planned."
It's simple enough to play the clueless frat boy with the cops and then slip away while they question the rest of the crowd. He's not Tim Drake-Wayne tonight--he's using one of the new identities Lonnie's set up for him--and when he surveys the crowd of party-goers, he can see that Tam's already made herself scarce. The last thing either of them needs is more press. Anyone who recognized her on the dance floor probably can't decide if he's the luckiest or unluckiest guy in Gotham. One more complication to deal with.
Just once, he'd like for something to be simple.
The night is warm and humid as he makes his way towards the rendezvous point where he's supposed to meet Steph and Tam. He runs a hand through his hair and thinks vaguely about getting it cut--it definitely gets sweaty under the cowl, which had taken longer than he'd expected to get used to, and secretly, he's kind of grateful not to be wearing it tonight. Maybe he'll go back to a domino. That costume he'd had in the unternet had been pretty cool. And maybe Kon would stop calling him Condom Boy.
He's speccing it out in his head when he hears the giggling, which he hadn't expected to hear once the charade from the party was no longer necessary. But Steph's always enjoyed the work, always had more fun with it than Bruce thought appropriate, and Tim wonders when he lost that himself. He seems to remembering having had it once, back when he'd first put on the uniform.
The giggling shakes him out of his reverie, and he prepares a friendly smile, which feels sadly fake, though he's pretty sure they won't be able to tell the difference. He's trying to think of something witty to say when he rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks at the sight that greets him: Steph is pressing Tam up against the red brick wall of an old building, her mouth on Tam's neck and her thigh pressed up between Tam's legs. Tam's head is tipped back and her mouth is open and gasping.
Tim knows staring is wrong, but he can't seem to help himself.
Details jump out at him: one of Tam's hands, the nails neatly manicured and painted red for tonight, is on Steph's ass, and the other is up underneath her shirt. Which is about as far as he ever got with Steph, back when they were dating, and not because she wasn't interested in going further. It just hadn't seemed important then; too many other things were a priority and sex was something that would happen someday, with her or with someone else. He tended not to allow himself to indulge in fantasies, because it made it harder to look people in the eye afterwards, and he still had to work, and occasionally live, with them. Now that his life has settled down a little, he finds it harder to adhere to that austerity.
Steph's hands are on Tam's hips, her thumbs dipping below the waistband of Tam's jeans. Tim wonders if the skin there is soft and warm and ticklish, if Steph's using her nails to raise goosebumps and make Tam shiver. He wonders what it would feel like if Steph touched him like that, while he touched Tam. He knows what he'll be thinking about tonight when he showers, and probably again once he finally goes to bed.
He swallows hard and forces the thoughts away. They're both inappropriate and unprofessional.
Steph slides her mouth along the curve of Tam's throat, her eyes fluttering open, her heavy-lidded glance an acknowledgement and an invitation. Tim can see the even line of her teeth when she nips at the hinge of Tam's jaw, then licks at skin there. Tam's breath hitches.
"Hey," Steph says, and Tam's eyes open wide; they look black in the darkness, pupils large and round and seeking the light. Her lips are shiny, wet from Steph's kisses. He swallows hard.
"Tim." Tam's voice is low and full of laughter. The sound of it hooks around something in the vicinity of his ribcage and pulls like she's opening him up.
Steph laughs and holds out a hand, beckoning.
Tim stands there in the alley like he's put down roots, his feet too heavy to move. He catalogues everything in sight, finds no sign of anything weird or out of place. Just the two girls--his ex and his fake fiancée, his maybe was and maybe will be--entangled and Steph's outstretched hand.
"O, has Poison Ivy been sighted in the area?"
"She's still in Arkham." She laughs in his ear. "There's not much else going on tonight. B and R can handle anything that comes up, so I think I'll give you kids some privacy. Have fun." And though there's no change in the quality of the silence, he knows she's gone.
Steph presses a kiss to Tam's cheek, puts her lips up against Tam's ear. "He likes to watch," she says in a stage whisper, mouth curved in a knowing grin.
Tam giggles. He'd never taken her for a giggler. It's a new and slightly disturbing side of her. He wonders if someone roofied her even under his careful observation, but her eyes are clear and bright and knowing when she catches his gaze.
Tim feels the flush climbing his cheeks and forces himself not to gasp; he clenches his fingers against his suddenly sweaty palms and tries to ignore the incessant pulse of blood in his veins, the heat pooling low in his belly.
"I--" It comes out hoarse, and he has to clear his throat to continue. "I didn't mean to interrupt." He hates being at a loss. They're not his teammates; despite his attempts to take charge of this particular mission, they don't answer to him, and even if they did, there's nothing to scold them for now that the job is done. They should be distracted enough to let him make a quick and stealthy get away, except for the fact that they're both watching him almost as closely as he's watching them.
"We knew you were coming," Steph says.
Which is true. Which means they wanted him to see. He's not sure what to do with that. "Right. I'll just--"
"Join us?" Tam asks.
He chews the cuticle on his thumb, then forces himself to stop. "I'm not--I don't--Um." Things like this don't happen to him. They happen to Dick, though probably not as often now that he's Batman, and he can hear Dick laughing at him and telling him to go for it.
Steph and Tam disentangle themselves and stalk towards him. There's definitely something gleefully predatory about them both, and they're terrifying in a way that madmen with guns or telepathic gorillas just aren't.
"It's okay," Steph says. "If you're not, um, interested, we'll leave you alone."
"But you were watching us all night," Tam says, "and we thought it might be fun to, you know..."
"It was my job to watch you," he says, louder than he means to. Just like it was their job to pretend to be together to make themselves targets.
"Yeah," Steph says, "but you seemed to enjoy it."
"I wasn't--I didn't--"
Steph raises an incredulous eyebrow and he can imagine her practicing that in the mirror, trying to imitate Babs or maybe even him. That makes him flush even hotter.
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," is what he says, though.
"Well, we were putting on a show," Steph says.
Tam puts a hand on his arm. "And we didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
It's his turn to raise an eyebrow in disbelief.
"No, we totally did," Steph says. "Well, flustered, anyway. You're cute when you're flustered." She leans in and gives him a quick, soft kiss. He licks his lips and imagines they taste of Steph's cherry lip balm. "But if you're really not okay--"
"I'm okay," he says, and the thing is, he's not lying. "I'm definitely okay, I just--I don't like surprises."
This time it's Tam who gives him a kiss. It lasts a little longer than Steph's, has just a hint of tongue and spearmint. "It's better than a million ninjas," she says when she draws away.
He lets himself smile. "It really is." He breathes in, smells Tam's cucumber soap and Steph's vanilla lotion overlaying the usual scents of the city, and glances from one to the other. "Are you sure?"
"Only if you are," Steph answers, holding his gaze.
He appreciates that she's giving him an out, even though he kind of wishes she hadn't. He's not generally someone who gets swept up in the moment--usually, he gets swept up by other people who get swept up, and usually, it's his job to unsweep them.
"You look like you've got a little brain-freeze going on," Tam says. She touches his cheek, her fingertips warm and soft on his skin.
"That's because all the blood in his body is headed south," Steph says, giggling and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She takes his hand. "Let's go."
"What--I mean, where--I mean--"
"You don't have to go through all five Ws," Steph says, laughter lingering in her voice. "We can get a hotel room or something."
"I know a place," he says. "A few blocks away."
"I bet you do," Steph says, amused approval in her voice. "I bet you know more than one."
"That'd be telling," he answers, though it's true and they all know it.
*
The apartment he leads them to is small--a barely furnished one bedroom with a view of a brick wall. He's not sure when Dick set it up, but he gave Tim keys to it after they'd gotten back from their trip around the world. He'd checked it out, of course, but a glance in the night table drawer had made him feel too awkward to go back. While he's pretty sure Bruce knows about it, he's also pretty sure it's not wired the way various other places are, or Dick wouldn't have been so casual about it; there are security cameras over the entrance and exit, but that's it.
As he takes off his boots, he can hear them making out behind him, brain filling in the images when he closes his eyes, and he wonders again if this is a bad idea. He places his boots neatly by the door, next to Tam's sparkly sandals; he gathers up Steph's boots and socks and lines them up as well, the mundane action giving him a few moments to catch his breath and rethink what they're doing.
"Hey, Tim," Steph says, grabbing his hand, and there's the decision made for him, and for once, he's going to just go along and stop trying to analyze what everyone is doing. "Hey." He lets her turn him around, pull him into a kiss, this one deeper and wetter than the one she'd given him in the alley. For all that it's familiar, there's something new in it, too, more confident, less hesitant than she used to be. Which is a little frightening, because she's never been the cautious type. The heat of her mouth calls up answering heat in his veins and he makes a harsh sound low in his throat. He's embarrassed, but he can feel her smile against his mouth, which makes him feel less awkward.
When she pulls away, Tam says, "My turn," and then she's kissing him. She's more tentative, less familiar. Her hand is warm and soft against his cheek, without the calluses Steph's developed. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he rests them on her hips, the way Steph had in the alley. She slides her tongue along his and his grip on her tightens. She moans softly and the sound goes straight to his dick, which has been half-hard for most of the night. Tam sighs when she leans back, a dreamy look in her eyes.
Steph is nowhere to be seen when Tim opens his eyes. "Steph?"
"In here," she calls from the bedroom. He takes Tam's hand and leads her there. Steph is bouncing on the bed. "I love the fact that you have no furniture, but you've got a king-size bed with million-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets." She stills, leans back on her elbows--Tim can't help but notice the way her top pulls across her breasts--and gazes up at them through her lashes. "Dick totally set this place up, didn't he?"
"Not Alfred?"
"Alfred wouldn't have picked such an ugly lamp." She pulls the chain and dim light spills through the tasseled, paisley shade, illuminating a base that's shaped like a duck.
Tim laughs, and it's a little higher-pitched and more nervous-sounding than he'd like. God, he would feel a lot less anxious and a lot more relaxed about this if he were in costume. He tries not to think about how fucked up that is.
Tam's hands slide around his waist, up under his shirt, and her mouth is warm on the side of his neck. Her hands dip below his waistband and he shivers. He turns his head and captures her mouth for another kiss. He likes kissing. It's familiar and exciting and it keeps him from thinking about the other things they might be doing in a bit, things that are exciting but unfamiliar.
"Mm, that's nice," Steph says, watching them with avid, heavy-lidded eyes. "Why don't you bring it on over here?"
They join her on the bed, which suddenly seems a lot smaller, though it's still big enough that they could probably all sleep in it without touching. That might be more comfortable, but it'd be a lot less interesting. And also, Tim can admit to himself, a lot less fun.
Steph leans over and kisses him, the brush of her hair tickling his skin. He can feel Tam pressed up against his right side, her hands unbuttoning his shirt. Steph moves away from him and leans further, just as Tam raises her face to meet the kiss. Tim watches as Tam's pink tongue slides between Steph's pink lips; he can hear the ragged rasp of their breathing amid the wet sounds of their making out.
Steph shifts so that she's straddling him, and he can feel the heat of her even through two pairs of jeans. She rolls her hips and he arches up against her automatically, then flushes when she stops kissing Tam long enough to laugh breathlessly and say, "You like that, huh? You really do like to watch."
He shrugs a shoulder. He could probably lie with a straight face even now, but his body gives him away, and it's not like Steph doesn't already know this about him anyway. "You don't seem to mind." He doesn't mean to sound defensive.
"I don't," Steph says. She kisses him and grinds down against him and he moans into her mouth. He can feel her breathing stutter; when he opens his eyes, Tam is licking her neck. Tam gives him a smile when she notices him looking, and then she leans up to kiss him as soon as Steph pulls back.
He's having a hard time breathing by the time Tam ends the kiss.
"How do you want to do this?" she asks, and her mouth is still close enough to Tim's that he can taste her breath.
"I don't--I've never--Steph?" Tim's not sure if his face is burning from lust or embarrassment, and he's not sure he even cares.
Steph looks uncertain for the first time all night, but then her expression smoothes out. "I think we're all wearing too many clothes," she says. "Why don't we take care of that and then, um, we can see what happens."
She reaches down and finishes unbuttoning Tim's shirt, then shoves it off his shoulders. He pulls his t-shirt up over his head as quickly as possible, not wanting to miss anything (or embarrass himself completely) by getting his head stuck in it.
Tam's slinky shirt is gone and Steph is sliding a lacy red bra down her arms, though she keeps getting distracted by Tam's breasts, which are high and full and tipped with taut brown nipples Steph keeps leaning into to suck.
"Can I?" he asks, reaching out a hand. Tam grabs it and puts it on her breast--tit, he thinks. Kon would tell him to stop being so pedantic, though Kon wouldn't actually say pedantic; he'd say, Tim, stop being a freak, and Tim's pretty sure he's not supposed to be thinking of Kon right now, but his brain can't process any of that while his hand is full of soft, firm flesh covered in silky skin. He rubs his thumb over the nipple, up and down first, and then in a circle, and watches the way Tam's hips jerk, listens to how her breath hitches at the touch, the little low noises she makes.
"That's good," she says, her voice low and rough.
"Mm," Steph chimes in, "I can tell she likes it." Tim glances down to see that Steph's got her fingers two knuckles deep in the dark hair between Tam's legs, her wrist flexing slowly. She draws the hand out and he can see moisture on her fingertips. She offers them to Tim. "You wanna taste?"
He swallows hard and leans up to suck them into his mouth, the taste salty and rich. Tam makes another little choked-off noise and then she's kissing him again, licking into his mouth around Steph's fingers, until she moves them away. He wonders if Tam can taste herself on his tongue.
Tim can hear his blood rushing in his ears and his dick is so hard it hurts. He's vaguely aware of Steph's hands, carefully unzipping his jeans, and he sighs into Tam's mouth when they're finally off and he can rub up against her belly without anything in the way.
Steph licks her palm, reaches in between them and curls her slick, wet fingers around him and strokes.
"Wait," he says. Steph stops immediately and gives him a concerned look. He doesn't know if it's possible for him to get any redder than he already is, but he feels himself flush again, ears burning with embarrassment. "If you do that, I'm going to come."
She laughs. "That's kind of the point, Tim."
"But you and Tam--"
Tam kisses him gently. "Don't worry about us."
The grin Steph gives him is wicked. "Yeah, Tim, don't worry about us. While you're getting ready for round two, we can take care of ourselves."
Tim swallows hard at the images that crowd his mind. "And I can watch?" His voice is low and rough--he doesn't sound like himself at all.
"Duh. Yeah."
"O-okay." He stutters the word out because Steph's thumb slides over the slit, spreads the bead of precome down along the shaft. Her hand keeps moving, stroking him fast and hard, calluses providing just the right amount of friction over the slickness of precome and saliva. Tam's hands are soft; she doesn't have any calluses. She fondles his balls and then presses at the sensitive spot behind them. He can't concentrate on anything but that, all sensation narrowing down to their hands on his cock, the tightening of his balls, and the lightning strike of pleasure that jolts through him when he comes.
Steph pauses in licking her fingers clean to stick her tongue out at him, and he doesn't have enough air to do more than huff a small laugh, which makes her grin. She slithers over him, so that she and Tam are tangled together beside him. Their kisses are noisy, wet, and sloppy, and when he's able to focus enough to turn his head to look at them, Steph's sucking on one of Tam's breasts and her hand is working between Tam's legs. Tam's got one hand tangled in Steph's sweaty hair and the other fisted in the sheets. She's arching into the touches, her mouth open and gasping, and Tim wants to record every writhe and moan. He's got a great memory, but he wishes he had a camera so that he could remember every detail, have it etched in ink and paper forever. He makes a mental note to check again for cameras; he definitely wants a copy of the recording if it exists.
Tam holds out a hand--the one that was curled up in the sheets--to him. "C'mere."
He crawls down the bed to kneel between her legs and watches, fascinated, as Steph fingers her. He leans in closer for a better look, out of curiosity as much as arousal. He licks his lips and asks again, "Can I?"
"Please," Tam says, and she sounds like she means it, so Tim moves even closer. He breathes in the rich, earthy scent of her and puts a tentative hand on her thigh, keeping his balance as he presses his tongue to the slick folds of her--he's not sure what word to use. He knows all the clinical anatomical terms, but he's spent enough time in locker rooms (not to mention the Gotham City school system) and watching porn with Kon to know this is probably the time and place for slang terms. He's just not comfortable with any of them. He figures it doesn't really matter, because he's not using his mouth to talk at the moment.
He licks around Steph's fingers and sucks on Tam's clit. Her hips come up off the bed, harder than he expects, but he holds on and keeps licking and sucking. He's hard again, and his hips move, too, seeking friction against the soft sheets.
"Tim," she says, "oh, god, Tim. Steph." She gives a long, hoarse moan and her hand lands in Tim's hair and pulls. The leg he's not holding onto flails out and hits the night table and the ugly duck lamp goes crashing to the floor, the light flickering out.
Tam is too blissed out to notice, but Steph looks up and meets Tim's gaze, and the two of them start laughing.
"I don't know if the bulb survived, but the duck is unfortunately intact," he says. "On the upside, that means I won't have to explain to Dick how we broke it."
"I'm sure if Dick knew how it happened, he'd be proud."
Tim flushes. "Point."
Steph grabs his arm when he moves to pick it up. "Leave it," she says. "Maybe one of us will step on it later and put it out of its misery." She gives him a kiss that she probably meant to be quick but he holds her close and sucks her tongue into his mouth. He puts his hands on her shoulders and rolls her onto her back, landing between her legs.
"Hi."
She grins up at him. "Hi."
Tam presses a kiss to his shoulder and then leans past him to kiss Steph. "Your turn," she says.
Steph looks up at him and for the first time since this whole thing started, he can see uncertainty in her eyes. "Tim?" She brushes the sweaty hair off his forehead and he can smell Tam on her fingers; his dick aches remembering the way she'd jerked him off, and he thrusts against her belly once before he gets himself under control again. "If you don't want to--"
He kisses her again, and takes her hand and wraps it around his dick. "I do. I've just never--I never have before. "
Her eyes go wide. "Oh. I thought--" She looks away. "I thought, before, when you didn't--" Her voice hitches a little and goes very soft. "I thought it was because you didn't want me."
It hurts and he doesn't know what to say, except, "Wanting you was never the problem." It's the truth, if not the whole truth, but she of all people knows how complicated his life was then, and how many different ways his words can be parsed.
Her smile is bright enough to light the room. "Do you want me now?"
"Yes." He thrusts into her hand to punctuate his answer. "There are condoms in the drawer."
She lets out a little huff of laughter. "Of course there are."
He leans over to get one and snorts when he sees what else is in the drawer; he remembers the condoms and the three varieties of lube, but the fur-lined handcuffs and the strap-on are new additions since the last time he checked. He reaches down with his other hand and squeezes the base of his cock.
Steph shifts up onto her elbow to have a look and then she laughs again. "Given the amount of time Robin spends tied up, can you really say you're surprised?"
Tim makes a sound that wants to be a word but the vowels have all gotten stuck in his throat; it doesn’t matter, though, because she's kissing him again, swallowing down the sounds he makes like she understands them. Maybe she does. He shouldn't underestimate her, especially not when her hand is on his cock. She helps him roll the condom on, and then he's sliding inside the tight, wet heat of her...cunt, hips moving like they've got a mind of their own, and he's not used to his body taking the lead like that.
"That's good," she says. "Oh, Tim, yeah, that's good." She keeps talking, saying the same things over and over again, like lyrics looped over the drumbeat of his blood pounding in his ears, as loud as and even more demanding than the music at the party.
He can feel a hand between them--he looks down and sees Tam's perfectly manicured fingers rubbing at Steph's clit while he fucks into her. He's mesmerized by the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her, the way her body curls up to meet him. While he's trying to get his brain back online, Tam is pressing kisses to Steph's breasts, rubbing at her nipples, and he thinks, oh, because that seems like a really good idea. He's a little surprised he didn't think of it before, but his capacity for thinking seems to have diminished to previously unknown levels. He'd be worried about that but he's too busy having sex. Right, he reminds himself, Steph's breasts. He bends forward and licks at them, tasting sweat and the lingering hints of lotion.
Tam is moving around and opening the drawer, and then he feels a cool, slick finger slide down the cleft of his ass and then circle his hole. His hips jerk forward again, this time in surprise.
She rests her head on his shoulder. "Tim? Is this okay?"
"Yeah," he says, his voice sounding strangled. "Yeah, Tam. Yeah."
She works a finger slowly inside him and it's weird and hot and weird, and then Steph clenches tight around him, again and again, and Tam's finger rubs against his prostate and he comes with a hoarse shout that Steph swallows down with a deep, messy kiss.
He gets rid of the condom and finds some wipes in the bathroom, and they spend a little time cleaning up, his body heavy with the lassitude of two really mind-blowing orgasms. Shaking his head, he picks up the lamp; there has to be a story behind it. Even Dick's taste isn't that egregious. Done with that, he stands there, unsure what to do, as Tam and Steph make themselves comfortable on the bed.
He wonders if this post-coital awkwardness is common, or if other people just instinctively know how to deal with it gracefully.
"Come on, Tim," Steph says. "Come to bed. I told my mom I was spending the night with friends, so I don't have to rush home."
They make a space between them for him, and he settles into it, tension at being socially awkward starting to overwhelm the relaxation. He doesn't know what comes next. Steph pulls his right arm around her, and Tam snuggles under his left. He's in no place to have a relationship with either of them, let alone both, and he should tell them that. He can just imagine how that conversation goes. Thanks for deflowering me with awesome three-way sex, but I'm afraid I can't make any commitments at this time. He wonders if there's a Miss Manners for sex and why he never wondered about it before. Dick would probably know, though he finds it difficult to imagine Dick ever being socially awkward. He doesn't even consider discussing it with Bruce.
"Stop thinking so loud, Tim," Tam says sleepily.
"You can obsess and freak out in the morning," Steph adds, barely intelligible through a massive yawn. "For now, just close your eyes and sleep."
He lies awake for a while, listening to the two of them sleep, before he finally surrenders to it himself. Just this once, thinking about the consequences can wait until morning.
end
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