(DCU) Unmasked
Title: Unmasked
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Kon/Tim
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1523
Timeline: Young Justice
Notes: Masturbation. For a prompt at dcu-memes.
A/N: References this moment from Young Justice #20.
Summary: He can see Robin’s face, which means the world just has to be ending.
Robin’s not wearing the mask. That’s just … Shit, that’s just not fair. It’s so ridiculously past the point of ‘not fair’ that it’s bordering on evil. And that has to be it, he has to be evil now, only explanation. Robin’s turned to the dark side and they’re all royally fucked and Robin’s first evil plan as their new arch nemesis is to take off his mask and make Kon’s brain explode inside his skull.
Smiling like it’s no big thing, like he isn’t evil at all, like this isn’t some elaborate and potentially effective attempt on Kon’s life. Saying ‘hi’ in this almost shy little way that has to be a trick, because Robin doesn’t do shy.
His leather jacket hits the door hard enough to swing it shut and then Kon just falls to his knees. And that was actually pretty loud, and he probably just knocked a layer of dust and grime off the ceiling of the room below him, but he’s kind of distracted. God, he needs a new uniform, a redesign, something that doesn’t actually require concentration to take on and off. Why did he decide on this skin-tight spandex look, and why the hell did he think straps around his hips were a good idea?! Stupid uniform, too fussy, too complicated, and he needs to be naked, like, yesterday.
And he’s been ragging on Robin for so damn long about the mask that he should probably feel a little responsible. But he doesn’t, because it’s one of those absolute truths, things he believes in whether they’re facts or just his gut being really loud. Kon won’t grow up, Cissie will be back, Bart should never be left alone in a kitchen (not after the Blender Incident) and Robin doesn’t take off his mask.
So it’s Robin who’s changing the rules, Robin who isn’t playing fair (evilevilevil) and it’s totally Robin’s fault that Kon can’t think. Tugging the straps higher up his waist as he shoves the suit down his hips, and he doesn’t even try to stop himself when he overbalances, starts falling forward. Dull thud of his forehead against the floor; there goes another layer of dust.
The hotel is just a building, just a normal building, not like their old headquarters. No soundproofing here, so Kon bites his lip real hard, but it’s not enough to keep back the grunt when he wraps a hand around his aching cock.
Fuck Robin. Fuck him and his stupid evil plans and his stupid little smile and his stupid eyes and, oh shit, they were so blue.
And he knows he’s curling forward, curling in on himself, grit of the floor dragging across his forehead. But he feels like it hurts, so hard he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. Just holding on, hand wrapped low around himself, as his hips try to thrust forward. Shallow little movements because he can’t really move like this, but his spine really doesn’t want to uncurl itself and right now the floor is the only thing keeping him anchored. The only thing keeping him from breaking apart, and every thrust shocks a little gasp out of him, and this isn’t what he needs. But that just makes it better, because it makes it so easy to pretend, pretend it’s someone else’s hand on him. And yeah, that hand would tease him like this, leave him breathless like this, drive him crazy like this, even before the bastard turned evil.
Evil fucking Robin, and maybe he’ll be looking for a costume change too, something to reflect his newfound villain status. Cissie said something about evil chicks needing more cleavage and what’s the male equivalent of that? Collar that opens down to his navel maybe, except that didn’t look so much evil as it did hysterical on Nightwing. A little slutty, yeah, but hysterical too, and evil Robin is totally going to want to be taken seriously. Or maybe he’ll show more leg, because Kon’s seen some of those older Robin costumes, and if he has to fight Robin when the bastard is wearing green fucking panties then the world should probably just give up and surrender because Kon totally isn’t going to be able to save it.
And he’s right back to not fair, and he’s wet, so damn wet, cock leaking at the idea of all that naked thigh, and he needs to stop thinking about that, damp spatter as he spurts a little against the floor. But it’s not enough, he’s not there yet, even though he really wants to be. Because he can’t move his hand, and his fingers are slick which is just making everything that much more of a tease. He needs a better grip, but his hand refuses to obey him. Needs green gloves, shit, touching him, hard enough to make him feel it, and it’s like he’s torturing himself and he can’t stop. Evil Robin is totally going to be all about the torture, Kon’s sure of it, and it’s going to be the good kind, got to be the good kind. Knowing just what he does to Kon because he has to know, he knows everything, he has to know.
Oh crap, the world is so doomed.
And Kon’s just kneeling there, all his weight balanced between his knees and his damn face, and he can hear the way he’s making these soft little mewling noises, like an injured kitten or something. Rubbing his cheek a little against the floor just to feel it, dust and sweat and his hair sticking to his skin. Rocking his hips, and he wants to spread his legs for this but the suit won’t let him, tangled around his thighs. He needs those green gloves for this, gauntlets, and Robin’s probably won’t even fit him and there has to be a way to ask for some in his size. Something other than “I want to pretend it’s your hand wrapped around my dick”, especially because if he says that it would probably get scrambled on the way to his mouth, probably come out as “please wrap your hand around my dick”, needy little whimper or straight-up begging, and you’re not supposed to show your arch nemesis what your biggest weaknesses are. Because then they exploit that weakness, and Robin would know that he could pretty much get Superboy to follow him down the road to evil if he grabbed Kon between his legs. Grabbed hard, and maybe Kon could be his sex slave or something, Princess Leia style.
Kon would totally wear a gold bikini for Robin, and the world is so so doomed.
He’d sit at Robin’s feet and occasionally Robin would show him images of all the villainous things he’s been doing and then Kon would have to get angry and shout a lot and Robin would have to bend Kon over his throne, because evil Robin is totally going to have a throne, and shit no. No, no, but yes, because Kon’s groaning, feet scraping behind him as he bucks forward, twitching and pulsing and spilling over the floor, and for a moment everything turns white and buzzes inside his head.
This is it. ‘Operation: Make Kon’s brain explode inside his skull’ is complete and there’s nobody to stand against evil Robin or even be his sex slave.
Only maybe his brain is still there, even if it does feel like it’s currently eighty percent liquid. But there are thoughts, or at least some vague semblance of comprehension, and Kon is at least aware that his spine does not like the position it’s currently in. And that he feels kind of gross, dirty and sweaty and sticky, and really damn good. He could probably use a shower, and maybe if he waits long enough he could jerk off again, jerk off properly, not just thrust into air and his too-loose fist.
And Robin is out there, somewhere in the resort, and it’s entirely possible that Kon is the only one who’s figured out that Robin is now the Bad Guy. And maybe Robin’s just wandering around not wearing his mask, and his face is maybe naked (blue eyes) and Kon should probably be keeping an eye on him and making sure Robin can see that his first attempt to kill Kon totally failed.
He sits back on his heels, feeling the already-familiar pang of longing for his TTK because actually using his muscles is a little difficult when they feel like heated marshmallow. But he has to go see Robin, for the sake of the world or something; his brain is still at about seventy-five percent liquid so the finer details aren’t quite coming together the way they should.
Only his suit is still around his thighs in this twisty mess of stretched out fabric and impossibility.
Damn, he needs a uniform change. Maybe he should let Robin design it, see how long it takes him to suggest the gold bikini. That seems like a fairly accurate way of judging just how far down the path of darkness Robin has already gone…
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Kon/Tim
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1523
Timeline: Young Justice
Notes: Masturbation. For a prompt at dcu-memes.
A/N: References this moment from Young Justice #20.
Summary: He can see Robin’s face, which means the world just has to be ending.
Robin’s not wearing the mask. That’s just … Shit, that’s just not fair. It’s so ridiculously past the point of ‘not fair’ that it’s bordering on evil. And that has to be it, he has to be evil now, only explanation. Robin’s turned to the dark side and they’re all royally fucked and Robin’s first evil plan as their new arch nemesis is to take off his mask and make Kon’s brain explode inside his skull.
Smiling like it’s no big thing, like he isn’t evil at all, like this isn’t some elaborate and potentially effective attempt on Kon’s life. Saying ‘hi’ in this almost shy little way that has to be a trick, because Robin doesn’t do shy.
His leather jacket hits the door hard enough to swing it shut and then Kon just falls to his knees. And that was actually pretty loud, and he probably just knocked a layer of dust and grime off the ceiling of the room below him, but he’s kind of distracted. God, he needs a new uniform, a redesign, something that doesn’t actually require concentration to take on and off. Why did he decide on this skin-tight spandex look, and why the hell did he think straps around his hips were a good idea?! Stupid uniform, too fussy, too complicated, and he needs to be naked, like, yesterday.
And he’s been ragging on Robin for so damn long about the mask that he should probably feel a little responsible. But he doesn’t, because it’s one of those absolute truths, things he believes in whether they’re facts or just his gut being really loud. Kon won’t grow up, Cissie will be back, Bart should never be left alone in a kitchen (not after the Blender Incident) and Robin doesn’t take off his mask.
So it’s Robin who’s changing the rules, Robin who isn’t playing fair (evilevilevil) and it’s totally Robin’s fault that Kon can’t think. Tugging the straps higher up his waist as he shoves the suit down his hips, and he doesn’t even try to stop himself when he overbalances, starts falling forward. Dull thud of his forehead against the floor; there goes another layer of dust.
The hotel is just a building, just a normal building, not like their old headquarters. No soundproofing here, so Kon bites his lip real hard, but it’s not enough to keep back the grunt when he wraps a hand around his aching cock.
Fuck Robin. Fuck him and his stupid evil plans and his stupid little smile and his stupid eyes and, oh shit, they were so blue.
And he knows he’s curling forward, curling in on himself, grit of the floor dragging across his forehead. But he feels like it hurts, so hard he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. Just holding on, hand wrapped low around himself, as his hips try to thrust forward. Shallow little movements because he can’t really move like this, but his spine really doesn’t want to uncurl itself and right now the floor is the only thing keeping him anchored. The only thing keeping him from breaking apart, and every thrust shocks a little gasp out of him, and this isn’t what he needs. But that just makes it better, because it makes it so easy to pretend, pretend it’s someone else’s hand on him. And yeah, that hand would tease him like this, leave him breathless like this, drive him crazy like this, even before the bastard turned evil.
Evil fucking Robin, and maybe he’ll be looking for a costume change too, something to reflect his newfound villain status. Cissie said something about evil chicks needing more cleavage and what’s the male equivalent of that? Collar that opens down to his navel maybe, except that didn’t look so much evil as it did hysterical on Nightwing. A little slutty, yeah, but hysterical too, and evil Robin is totally going to want to be taken seriously. Or maybe he’ll show more leg, because Kon’s seen some of those older Robin costumes, and if he has to fight Robin when the bastard is wearing green fucking panties then the world should probably just give up and surrender because Kon totally isn’t going to be able to save it.
And he’s right back to not fair, and he’s wet, so damn wet, cock leaking at the idea of all that naked thigh, and he needs to stop thinking about that, damp spatter as he spurts a little against the floor. But it’s not enough, he’s not there yet, even though he really wants to be. Because he can’t move his hand, and his fingers are slick which is just making everything that much more of a tease. He needs a better grip, but his hand refuses to obey him. Needs green gloves, shit, touching him, hard enough to make him feel it, and it’s like he’s torturing himself and he can’t stop. Evil Robin is totally going to be all about the torture, Kon’s sure of it, and it’s going to be the good kind, got to be the good kind. Knowing just what he does to Kon because he has to know, he knows everything, he has to know.
Oh crap, the world is so doomed.
And Kon’s just kneeling there, all his weight balanced between his knees and his damn face, and he can hear the way he’s making these soft little mewling noises, like an injured kitten or something. Rubbing his cheek a little against the floor just to feel it, dust and sweat and his hair sticking to his skin. Rocking his hips, and he wants to spread his legs for this but the suit won’t let him, tangled around his thighs. He needs those green gloves for this, gauntlets, and Robin’s probably won’t even fit him and there has to be a way to ask for some in his size. Something other than “I want to pretend it’s your hand wrapped around my dick”, especially because if he says that it would probably get scrambled on the way to his mouth, probably come out as “please wrap your hand around my dick”, needy little whimper or straight-up begging, and you’re not supposed to show your arch nemesis what your biggest weaknesses are. Because then they exploit that weakness, and Robin would know that he could pretty much get Superboy to follow him down the road to evil if he grabbed Kon between his legs. Grabbed hard, and maybe Kon could be his sex slave or something, Princess Leia style.
Kon would totally wear a gold bikini for Robin, and the world is so so doomed.
He’d sit at Robin’s feet and occasionally Robin would show him images of all the villainous things he’s been doing and then Kon would have to get angry and shout a lot and Robin would have to bend Kon over his throne, because evil Robin is totally going to have a throne, and shit no. No, no, but yes, because Kon’s groaning, feet scraping behind him as he bucks forward, twitching and pulsing and spilling over the floor, and for a moment everything turns white and buzzes inside his head.
This is it. ‘Operation: Make Kon’s brain explode inside his skull’ is complete and there’s nobody to stand against evil Robin or even be his sex slave.
Only maybe his brain is still there, even if it does feel like it’s currently eighty percent liquid. But there are thoughts, or at least some vague semblance of comprehension, and Kon is at least aware that his spine does not like the position it’s currently in. And that he feels kind of gross, dirty and sweaty and sticky, and really damn good. He could probably use a shower, and maybe if he waits long enough he could jerk off again, jerk off properly, not just thrust into air and his too-loose fist.
And Robin is out there, somewhere in the resort, and it’s entirely possible that Kon is the only one who’s figured out that Robin is now the Bad Guy. And maybe Robin’s just wandering around not wearing his mask, and his face is maybe naked (blue eyes) and Kon should probably be keeping an eye on him and making sure Robin can see that his first attempt to kill Kon totally failed.
He sits back on his heels, feeling the already-familiar pang of longing for his TTK because actually using his muscles is a little difficult when they feel like heated marshmallow. But he has to go see Robin, for the sake of the world or something; his brain is still at about seventy-five percent liquid so the finer details aren’t quite coming together the way they should.
Only his suit is still around his thighs in this twisty mess of stretched out fabric and impossibility.
Damn, he needs a uniform change. Maybe he should let Robin design it, see how long it takes him to suggest the gold bikini. That seems like a fairly accurate way of judging just how far down the path of darkness Robin has already gone…