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Rating:
Explicit
Archive Warning:
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category:
M/M
Fandom:
DCU - Comicverse
Relationship:
Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Characters:
Tim DrakeDamian Wayne
Additional Tags:
Costume Kink
Language: English Collections: The Robincest Meme Stats:Published:2012-08-26Words:2268Chapters:1/1Comments:9Kudos:257Bookmarks:45Hits:4094
Taste The Green
Salmon_Pink
Summary:
Damian is wearing the original Robin uniform. Tim doesn't think he can be blamed if he loses his mind a little.
Notes:
Set in the future, but in a way that ignores the reboot. Written for the Robincest Meme, prompt "Tim/Damian, even years later, when Damian is in his late teens, he and Tim still bicker. It seems like they'll just never get along. And then one day, for a bet or a joke or to prove a point, Damian tries on the scaly green panties version of the Robin suit. Tim is mortified to discover this is one of the hottest things he's even seen".
Work Text:
It’s the uniform. It has to be the uniform, because there’s no other reason Tim would react to Damian like this.
Yes, Tim’s noticed that Damian has grown attractive as the years have passed. But it’s a detached sort of observation, one that has no personal effect on Tim’s life.
Just because Damian is attractive doesn’t mean that Tim is actually attracted to him.
Damian is still Damian. He may be almost out of his teens now, but he’s still a patronising, spoiled little brat towards Tim. It doesn’t matter how much it disappoints the rest of the family - the truth is that the two of them will probably never get along.
So it makes no sense that Tim’s heart is in his throat, that there’s heat pooling between his legs, cock stirring in interest at the sight of all that skin.
Hence him blaming it on the uniform.
There has to be a reason Damian’s wearing it. A bet, maybe? A dare? Something to do with Jason or Steph or maybe even Dick.
Whatever the reason, nobody thought to warn Tim that when he stepped into the Batcave, he’d be confronted by the sight of Damian stretching on the mats, wearing the original Robin uniform.
Taut red fabric across his chest, a slither of toned stomach visible underneath where it’s not quite long enough for Damian’s torso. Short cape that doesn’t quite cover the swell of his ass. And the shorts, bright green and obscenely tight.
Maybe if Tim had been expecting it, he could have covered his reaction better. But he wasn’t and he didn’t and Damian had seen.
Damian had watched Tim’s face, seen the stab of arousal that no doubt flittered clearly across it. And Damian’s own expression had morphed from shock to the kind of grin that made him seem like a predator.
It’s the uniform. It has to be. Tim’s had fantasies about that damn thing since he first hit puberty. Except the idea that he could get aroused for just anyone wearing that particular costume is a little disturbing. And also untrue, because he’s seen other people wear it before. Folks at Halloween, some of the more deranged members of their rogues gallery, even strippers.
The costume is as much a part of Gotham’s history as it is Tim’s own.
So it’s not just the uniform, which means at least a part of it is Damian, and Tim can feel himself pressing back against the workbench Damian’s managed to box him in against. Damian’s hands are braced against the counter on either side of Tim’s hips and he’s using every inch of height he has over Tim to loom over him.
“I’ve known you’re a lot of things, Drake, but a pervert?” he’s sneering, expression haughty. “Just when I think you can’t embarrass yourself any further, you reach new depths.”
God, he’s going to hold this over Tim’s head forever. He’s never going to let a single day go by without reminding Tim that he got hard for the sight of Damian in the original Robin uniform.
He’s going to use this to torture Tim.
The thought of it makes something rise in Tim’s chest, something tight and angry. Something that makes him want to take Damian’s casual cruelty and throw it back in his face.
Everyone always expects Tim to rise above Damian’s behaviour. They expected it when Damian was ten and they still expect it now.
Right now Tim wants nothing more to stoop down to Damian’s level.
Something in his expression must change, because Damian’s voice cuts out. Not that Tim’s being paying attention to the steady string of derision anyway, but the arrogance on Damian’s face has subsided somewhat, replaced by something wary.
Tim gives his own feral smile and licks his lips.
Damian’s eyes widen a little.
It makes Tim feel more bold, more reckless.
“I’m the pervert?” he asks quietly. He lets himself lean back against the workbench, spine arching so his hips push out. He doesn’t miss the way Damian’s gaze flickers down, only for a second but enough that he can see the change of atmosphere registering on Damian’s face. “Looking at our positions right now, you think I’m the pervert?”
A little of the cockiness seeps back into Damian’s face, and he smirks, making a tutting noise with his tongue. This time when his eyes rake across Tim’s body, it’s slow and deliberate. “I’m not the one getting all flustered at the sight of a little leg, Drake.”
If Damian thinks he can control this little contest of flirtation, he’s very wrong. Tim lets his smile be slow and wet and dirty. “But you are the one trying to push me up against the nearest flat surface,” he counters slyly.
Damian falters, and Tim takes advantage of the moment to lean forward, pressing up on tiptoes so his lips can ghost over Damian’s ear. “I don’t think I’m the only pervert here.”
He expects Damian to get indignant, to shove him away. Damian will leave the cave in a sulk, which makes it an automatic win for Tim by Damian’s own bizarre rules. Meaning that Damian will never discuss it again, as is his usual tactic whenever he perceives Tim’s gotten the best of him.
That’s what Tim expects.
Instead, Damian shivers and Tim hears a quiet gasp pass his lips.
And, oh, this has already gone too far. Tim doesn’t do things like this, it just isn’t him.
But as he pulls back, achingly slow, Damian’s watching him, lips parted and eyes dilated, and Tim doesn’t want to stop.
He’s not even really aware that he’s moving until his knees hit the floor.
He looks up at Damian through his eyelashes, lets his expression be just as hot as he feels inside, burning up with this strange tension, with the smell of Damian’s skin and the colours of the Robin suit seared across his mind.
There are so many reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this, but for once Tim’s brain is failing him, can’t recall a single excuse why this can’t happen.
Instead he reaches forward and runs his fingers lightly up Damian’s thigh.
The muscles twitch under his touch, but Damian makes no effort to leave.
Tim closes his eyes a moment, feeling dizzy. “You shaved for this,” he whispers, feeling the proof under his fingers, smooth hairless skin.
“I- It -” Damian stammers above him.
“It’s good,” Tim says mindlessly, opening his eyes again as he leans forward, and the noise Damian makes when Tim’s tongue drags across his skin is sharp and deep.
The flesh of his leg is so warm under Tim’s mouth.
Tim licks a path up Damian’s inner thigh, inhaling the scent of fresh sweat and arousal. There’s dark hair visible between his legs, not quite covered by the shorts, so apparently Damian didn’t shave everywhere.
Tim drags his lips across the hair, and Damian gasps again, wavering above him before his hand settles lightly on Tim’s head. Like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it, just petting lightly at the hair above Tim’s ear.
They should stop. Tim should stop. Joke’s over, never mind that it wasn’t a joke in the first place and there’s no part of Tim that’s laughing. What he’s doing, it doesn’t make sense, except he’s got the strangest feeling that they’ve been heading for this for a while.
He should stop.
He doesn’t want to.
He licks along the hem of the shorts, tongue half on fabric, half on skin. It’s painfully obvious that Damian isn’t wearing a jock, and Tim feels a little dizzy to see how much this is effecting him already.
Between his own legs, his cock throbs at the sight.
He slides both hands up to grip Damian’s hips, shifting forward on his knees. He doesn’t care if this is insane, if he can barely stand to be in the same room as Damian most days.
Right now he needs this.
He presses his face against the heavy bulge behind the fabric of the Robin shorts, nosing at the curve of it, the hardness. Damian grunts, his hips minutely pushing forward but Tim holds them steady. Just taking a moment to explore, to get lost in the familiarity of the shorts and the new sensation of Damian’s heat behind them. Rubbing his cheeks and jaw there, listening to every hitch of Damian’s breathing.
It shouldn’t feel this good, but it does.
He licks at the fabric, outlining Damian’s shape behind it, licking up the line of the shaft. Peppering open-mouthed kisses over the swell of the head before he presses his lips there and sucks as hard as he can, and Damian lets out a strangled sound above him.
There’s a thump and a creak that Tim assumes is the hand not in his hair slamming down on the workbench and gripping the edge of the counter tight.
At first the material of the shorts tastes of practically nothing, just clean fabric. But the longer and harder Tim sucks at it, up and down the trapped length of Damian’s cock, the more he can taste sex, the more he can taste Damian. Fillin
เนื้อหาหลักเก็บของของเราเอง betaAO3 โลโก้ - ตัวอักษร A O 3 รวมกับแผ่นดินที่ยกในงานเฉลิมฉลอง สัญลักษณ์ความสุขสร้าง fannish ในการเก็บบันทึกในเว็บไซต์ NavigationFandoms เรียกดูค้นหาเกี่ยวกับการค้นหางานค้นหางาน: คำแนะนำ: คำขาว: 10000-50000 เรียงลำดับ: ชื่อเรื่อง ข้ามหัวการดำเนินการดาวน์โหลดซ่อนข้อคิดเห็นร่วมกันหัวข้องานคะแนน:อย่างชัดเจนคำเตือนเก็บถาวร:ผู้สร้างเลือกไม่ควรใช้คำเตือนการเก็บถาวรหมวดหมู่:M/MFandom:DCU - Comicverseความสัมพันธ์:ทิมเด รก/Damian Wayneตัวอักษร:ทิม DrakeDamian Wayneแท็ก: เพิ่มเติมเครื่องแต่งกาย Kinkภาษา: ภาษาอังกฤษชุด: สถิติ Robincest Meme: ประกาศ: 2012-08-26Words:2268Chapters:1 / 1Comments:9Kudos:257Bookmarks:45Hits:4094รสชาติสีเขียวSalmon_Pinkสรุป:Damian สวมใส่เครื่องแบบโรบินเดิม ทิมไม่คิดว่า เขาสามารถตำหนิได้หากเขาสูญเสียจิตใจของเขาเล็กน้อยหมายเหตุ:ตั้งในอนาคต แต่วิธีที่ละเว้นการเริ่มต้น เขียนสำหรับ Robincest Meme พร้อมท์"ทิม/Damian แม้แต่ปีต่อมา เมื่อ Damian ในวัยรุ่นช่วงปลายของเขา เขา และทิมยัง bicker ดูเหมือนพวกเขาจะไม่เพียงได้รับตาม แล้ว วันหนึ่ง การพนันหรือเล่น หรือ เพื่อพิสูจน์จุด Damian พยายามบนกางเกงในสีเขียวปากแหลมรุ่นชุดโรบิน ทิมได้ mortified ได้เป็นหนึ่งในสิ่งที่ร้อนแรงที่สุดแม้จะเห็น"ข้อความที่ทำงาน:เครื่องแบบได้ มีเป็น เครื่องแบบ เนื่องจากไม่มีเหตุผลไม่ติ๋มจะตอบสนอง Damian เช่นนี้Yes, Tim’s noticed that Damian has grown attractive as the years have passed. But it’s a detached sort of observation, one that has no personal effect on Tim’s life.Just because Damian is attractive doesn’t mean that Tim is actually attracted to him.Damian is still Damian. He may be almost out of his teens now, but he’s still a patronising, spoiled little brat towards Tim. It doesn’t matter how much it disappoints the rest of the family - the truth is that the two of them will probably never get along.So it makes no sense that Tim’s heart is in his throat, that there’s heat pooling between his legs, cock stirring in interest at the sight of all that skin.Hence him blaming it on the uniform.There has to be a reason Damian’s wearing it. A bet, maybe? A dare? Something to do with Jason or Steph or maybe even Dick.Whatever the reason, nobody thought to warn Tim that when he stepped into the Batcave, he’d be confronted by the sight of Damian stretching on the mats, wearing the original Robin uniform.Taut red fabric across his chest, a slither of toned stomach visible underneath where it’s not quite long enough for Damian’s torso. Short cape that doesn’t quite cover the swell of his ass. And the shorts, bright green and obscenely tight.Maybe if Tim had been expecting it, he could have covered his reaction better. But he wasn’t and he didn’t and Damian had seen.Damian had watched Tim’s face, seen the stab of arousal that no doubt flittered clearly across it. And Damian’s own expression had morphed from shock to the kind of grin that made him seem like a predator.It’s the uniform. It has to be. Tim’s had fantasies about that damn thing since he first hit puberty. Except the idea that he could get aroused for just anyone wearing that particular costume is a little disturbing. And also untrue, because he’s seen other people wear it before. Folks at Halloween, some of the more deranged members of their rogues gallery, even strippers.The costume is as much a part of Gotham’s history as it is Tim’s own.So it’s not just the uniform, which means at least a part of it is Damian, and Tim can feel himself pressing back against the workbench Damian’s managed to box him in against. Damian’s hands are braced against the counter on either side of Tim’s hips and he’s using every inch of height he has over Tim to loom over him.“I’ve known you’re a lot of things, Drake, but a pervert?” he’s sneering, expression haughty. “Just when I think you can’t embarrass yourself any further, you reach new depths.”God, he’s going to hold this over Tim’s head forever. He’s never going to let a single day go by without reminding Tim that he got hard for the sight of Damian in the original Robin uniform.He’s going to use this to torture Tim.The thought of it makes something rise in Tim’s chest, something tight and angry. Something that makes him want to take Damian’s casual cruelty and throw it back in his face.Everyone always expects Tim to rise above Damian’s behaviour. They expected it when Damian was ten and they still expect it now.Right now Tim wants nothing more to stoop down to Damian’s level.Something in his expression must change, because Damian’s voice cuts out. Not that Tim’s being paying attention to the steady string of derision anyway, but the arrogance on Damian’s face has subsided somewhat, replaced by something wary.Tim gives his own feral smile and licks his lips.Damian’s eyes widen a little.It makes Tim feel more bold, more reckless.“I’m the pervert?” he asks quietly. He lets himself lean back against the workbench, spine arching so his hips push out. He doesn’t miss the way Damian’s gaze flickers down, only for a second but enough that he can see the change of atmosphere registering on Damian’s face. “Looking at our positions right now, you think I’m the pervert?”A little of the cockiness seeps back into Damian’s face, and he smirks, making a tutting noise with his tongue. This time when his eyes rake across Tim’s body, it’s slow and deliberate. “I’m not the one getting all flustered at the sight of a little leg, Drake.”If Damian thinks he can control this little contest of flirtation, he’s very wrong. Tim lets his smile be slow and wet and dirty. “But you are the one trying to push me up against the nearest flat surface,” he counters slyly.Damian falters, and Tim takes advantage of the moment to lean forward, pressing up on tiptoes so his lips can ghost over Damian’s ear. “I don’t think I’m the only pervert here.”He expects Damian to get indignant, to shove him away. Damian will leave the cave in a sulk, which makes it an automatic win for Tim by Damian’s own bizarre rules. Meaning that Damian will never discuss it again, as is his usual tactic whenever he perceives Tim’s gotten the best of him.That’s what Tim expects.Instead, Damian shivers and Tim hears a quiet gasp pass his lips.And, oh, this has already gone too far. Tim doesn’t do things like this, it just isn’t him.But as he pulls back, achingly slow, Damian’s watching him, lips parted and eyes dilated, and Tim doesn’t want to stop.He’s not even really aware that he’s moving until his knees hit the floor.He looks up at Damian through his eyelashes, lets his expression be just as hot as he feels inside, burning up with this strange tension, with the smell of Damian’s skin and the colours of the Robin suit seared across his mind.There are so many reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this, but for once Tim’s brain is failing him, can’t recall a single excuse why this can’t happen.
Instead he reaches forward and runs his fingers lightly up Damian’s thigh.
The muscles twitch under his touch, but Damian makes no effort to leave.
Tim closes his eyes a moment, feeling dizzy. “You shaved for this,” he whispers, feeling the proof under his fingers, smooth hairless skin.
“I- It -” Damian stammers above him.
“It’s good,” Tim says mindlessly, opening his eyes again as he leans forward, and the noise Damian makes when Tim’s tongue drags across his skin is sharp and deep.
The flesh of his leg is so warm under Tim’s mouth.
Tim licks a path up Damian’s inner thigh, inhaling the scent of fresh sweat and arousal. There’s dark hair visible between his legs, not quite covered by the shorts, so apparently Damian didn’t shave everywhere.
Tim drags his lips across the hair, and Damian gasps again, wavering above him before his hand settles lightly on Tim’s head. Like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it, just petting lightly at the hair above Tim’s ear.
They should stop. Tim should stop. Joke’s over, never mind that it wasn’t a joke in the first place and there’s no part of Tim that’s laughing. What he’s doing, it doesn’t make sense, except he’s got the strangest feeling that they’ve been heading for this for a while.
He should stop.
He doesn’t want to.
He licks along the hem of the shorts, tongue half on fabric, half on skin. It’s painfully obvious that Damian isn’t wearing a jock, and Tim feels a little dizzy to see how much this is effecting him already.
Between his own legs, his cock throbs at the sight.
He slides both hands up to grip Damian’s hips, shifting forward on his knees. He doesn’t care if this is insane, if he can barely stand to be in the same room as Damian most days.
Right now he needs this.
He presses his face against the heavy bulge behind the fabric of the Robin shorts, nosing at the curve of it, the hardness. Damian grunts, his hips minutely pushing forward but Tim holds them steady. Just taking a moment to explore, to get lost in the familiarity of the shorts and the new sensation of Damian’s heat behind them. Rubbing his cheeks and jaw there, listening to every hitch of Damian’s breathing.
It shouldn’t feel this good, but it does.
He licks at the fabric, outlining Damian’s shape behind it, licking up the line of the shaft. Peppering open-mouthed kisses over the swell of the head before he presses his lips there and sucks as hard as he can, and Damian lets out a strangled sound above him.
There’s a thump and a creak that Tim assumes is the hand not in his hair slamming down on the workbench and gripping the edge of the counter tight.
At first the material of the shorts tastes of practically nothing, just clean fabric. But the longer and harder Tim sucks at it, up and down the trapped length of Damian’s cock, the more he can taste sex, the more he can taste Damian. Fillin
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