Fic: chapter 2 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time
Lovers In A Dangerous Time (2/?)
By Zeelee
Summary: AU! Kon is a hooker who never expected to fall in love with one of his clients, boy billionaire Tim Drake. But can their love survive when the Gotham mob targets them both?? Plz R&R or I won't write more chapters!11 XD XD XD
Chapter 2
They will see us waving from such great heights,
'Come down now,' they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away,
'Come down now,' but we'll stay...
--Such Great Heights, by The Postal Service
Tim can’t concentrate. It’s a new feeling for him, and not one he appreciates; he’s been able to zoom in and focus relentlessly on any given task since... well, probably since toddlerhood, although seeing as he hasn’t spoken to his parents since he was fourteen they can’t verify that theory for him.
Finally he rolls his chair away from the computer, giving up and rubbing at his eyes. It’s near three am, and by all rights he should be exhausted, but instead he’s jittery. Unfocused -- well. That’s a lie. He’s focused all right, just not on what he *should* be focusing on.
He gets up and walks over to the camera room, pulling up the one in Kon’s room to take up the entire screen. Kon’s almost looks dead, he’s so deeply asleep. He’s wearing only his boxer briefs, and the sheets and blankets have ridden low enough that all of his bare chest and a good bit of his hip is exposed. Tim’s fairly sure he’s snoring, although there’s no sound in the room. Tim thinks it’s high time he installed a microphone along with the camera in his guest bedrooms.
Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s watching his hooker sleep. He *wants* to watch him sleep, wants to stare at him for hours and memorize every detail, wants to sleep *with* him. For a moment he wildly considers going into the guest bedrom and curling up behind Kon for the night, but he banishes the thought moments after it occurs to him.
It’s not an option. Tim is ridiculous for even thinking it.
It would be bad enough if Kon had just left when Tim told him to, but now he’s right here, has made himself sexually available for Tim whenever Tim wants, he’s under Tim’s *protection* and Tim’s utterly certain it’s going to drive him insane. Why does this shit always happen to *him?*
Tim has never believed in love at first sight. It’s nothing, simply pheromones tricking the brain. It’s just that Kon’s particular pheromones are doing a stupendous job of tricking him, of...
Tim remembers the feel of Kon’s mouth around his cock and gets hard so fast it hurts a little. This could be a problem.
He grits his teeth. He could go to Kon now, wake him up, demand what his body is telling him he needs. Kon promised him that, is giving him that in exchange for Tim’s charity, and god help him Tim is tempted. He knows how much he’ll hate himself if he takes Kon up on his offer, and the fact doesn’t stem his temptation at all.
He reaches down to squeeze himself through his pants, shuddering. Maybe he can smuggle Kon out of Gotham tomorrow morning, or just dump him on the doorstep of his apartment at the crack of dawn. Throwing a helpless person to the wolves just because Tim doesn’t like being attracted to them is pretty heartless, Tim knows, but it might be his only option.
Because pursuing my interest definitely isn’t an option, he thinks bitterly. Kon is a prostitute; even if Tim’s feelings were mutual (which they of course aren’t, why would they be?), he has sex with other people for money. Of all the potentially disastrous relationships Tim has been in, it would certainly be the worst.
Tim starts rubbing the heel of his palm over his erection. He thinks about Kon kneeling in front of him, licking his lips, swallowing down Tim’s cock with that look of lazy smugness on his face. Tim lets himself groan, very quietly.
He’s barely got his pants open when one of his alarms start beeping. The basement? What the--
His eyes widen when he realizes what’s happened, what the increasingly louder alarms mean and what his video footage in the building basement is picking up. He does up his pants quickly and runs to Kon’s room, shaking him awake.
Kon makes a snuffling sound and rubs at his eyes. “Wha?”
“We have to go. *Now.*”
Kon frowns. “What-”
“They’ve planted a *bomb.*” That gets a reaction from Kon. His eyes widen and he practically falls out of bed in his haste to get up. It squeezes something in Tim’s chest, and he looks away.
Glances at his watch. *Fuck.* “We have less then a minute to get out of this building before it blows,” he says, his voice tense. “Come on, there’s a fire escape out the back.”
They scramble out Tim’s back door and down the fire escape, taking the steps two at a time. Tim’s heart is in his throat, his pulse is racing, and they manage to get far enough down the fire escape that when the building blows, they’re thrown away from it instead of killed.
Tim lands on his side and feels a sharp pain in his shoulder. He rolls over on his stomach, coughing and spitting. His mouth tastes like ash.
“Kon?” He tries to pretend to himself that his voice isn’t panicked and desperate.
He hears Kon cough, a few feet away from him. “I’m okay. You?”
Tim moves, and the pain in his shoulder gets worse. It feels like a dislocation; hopefully nothing worse. “I’ll live.”
Tim tries to stand, and then he stiffens. There are voices around the corner, and they don’t sound friendly.
“*Fuck,*” Kon whispers next to Tim, helping him to his feet. They look around wildly, but there’s nowhere to hide, just debris and rubble and nowhere they won’t be *found*--
Tim feels a whoosh, and then the ground beneath him just... disappears. He stares at Kon in disbelief, and Kon stares right back. When Tim looks down at the ground (the ground that is suddenly 70 feet below them), he can see men in black suits with violin cases walk over the ground they’d been standing on a few seconds ago.
Kon is holding onto him tight enough to hurt Tim’s injured shoulder. Tim wishes he were holding tighter. He breathes hard and rests his forehead against Kon’s broad shoulder. He knew he should have taken steps to cure himself of that fear of heights.
“Oh -- oh my god, I can hear what they’re *saying*.” Kon’s voice is a hoarse, awed whisper, and if there were any doubt as to who, exactly, is enabling them to fly -- or at least float -- in Tim’s mind, it’s gone now.
“They’re -- god. They blew up that building just to get to *me.* And you, too, because they think we’re in league -- oh god -- they don’t think it killed us. They’re looking for our bodies.”
Tim prays they don’t look up. He doesn’t even think they’d be *able* to see them, but he doesn’t want to take the chance.
Then suddenly they’re falling, and Kon curses and they stop, ten feet below their previous altitude. Tim is clinging to Kon without reservation, and trying not to whimper.
“Kon,” he finally says, doing his best to keep his voice level. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
By Zeelee
Summary: AU! Kon is a hooker who never expected to fall in love with one of his clients, boy billionaire Tim Drake. But can their love survive when the Gotham mob targets them both?? Plz R&R or I won't write more chapters!11 XD XD XD
Chapter 2
They will see us waving from such great heights,
'Come down now,' they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away,
'Come down now,' but we'll stay...
--Such Great Heights, by The Postal Service
Tim can’t concentrate. It’s a new feeling for him, and not one he appreciates; he’s been able to zoom in and focus relentlessly on any given task since... well, probably since toddlerhood, although seeing as he hasn’t spoken to his parents since he was fourteen they can’t verify that theory for him.
Finally he rolls his chair away from the computer, giving up and rubbing at his eyes. It’s near three am, and by all rights he should be exhausted, but instead he’s jittery. Unfocused -- well. That’s a lie. He’s focused all right, just not on what he *should* be focusing on.
He gets up and walks over to the camera room, pulling up the one in Kon’s room to take up the entire screen. Kon’s almost looks dead, he’s so deeply asleep. He’s wearing only his boxer briefs, and the sheets and blankets have ridden low enough that all of his bare chest and a good bit of his hip is exposed. Tim’s fairly sure he’s snoring, although there’s no sound in the room. Tim thinks it’s high time he installed a microphone along with the camera in his guest bedrooms.
Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s watching his hooker sleep. He *wants* to watch him sleep, wants to stare at him for hours and memorize every detail, wants to sleep *with* him. For a moment he wildly considers going into the guest bedrom and curling up behind Kon for the night, but he banishes the thought moments after it occurs to him.
It’s not an option. Tim is ridiculous for even thinking it.
It would be bad enough if Kon had just left when Tim told him to, but now he’s right here, has made himself sexually available for Tim whenever Tim wants, he’s under Tim’s *protection* and Tim’s utterly certain it’s going to drive him insane. Why does this shit always happen to *him?*
Tim has never believed in love at first sight. It’s nothing, simply pheromones tricking the brain. It’s just that Kon’s particular pheromones are doing a stupendous job of tricking him, of...
Tim remembers the feel of Kon’s mouth around his cock and gets hard so fast it hurts a little. This could be a problem.
He grits his teeth. He could go to Kon now, wake him up, demand what his body is telling him he needs. Kon promised him that, is giving him that in exchange for Tim’s charity, and god help him Tim is tempted. He knows how much he’ll hate himself if he takes Kon up on his offer, and the fact doesn’t stem his temptation at all.
He reaches down to squeeze himself through his pants, shuddering. Maybe he can smuggle Kon out of Gotham tomorrow morning, or just dump him on the doorstep of his apartment at the crack of dawn. Throwing a helpless person to the wolves just because Tim doesn’t like being attracted to them is pretty heartless, Tim knows, but it might be his only option.
Because pursuing my interest definitely isn’t an option, he thinks bitterly. Kon is a prostitute; even if Tim’s feelings were mutual (which they of course aren’t, why would they be?), he has sex with other people for money. Of all the potentially disastrous relationships Tim has been in, it would certainly be the worst.
Tim starts rubbing the heel of his palm over his erection. He thinks about Kon kneeling in front of him, licking his lips, swallowing down Tim’s cock with that look of lazy smugness on his face. Tim lets himself groan, very quietly.
He’s barely got his pants open when one of his alarms start beeping. The basement? What the--
His eyes widen when he realizes what’s happened, what the increasingly louder alarms mean and what his video footage in the building basement is picking up. He does up his pants quickly and runs to Kon’s room, shaking him awake.
Kon makes a snuffling sound and rubs at his eyes. “Wha?”
“We have to go. *Now.*”
Kon frowns. “What-”
“They’ve planted a *bomb.*” That gets a reaction from Kon. His eyes widen and he practically falls out of bed in his haste to get up. It squeezes something in Tim’s chest, and he looks away.
Glances at his watch. *Fuck.* “We have less then a minute to get out of this building before it blows,” he says, his voice tense. “Come on, there’s a fire escape out the back.”
They scramble out Tim’s back door and down the fire escape, taking the steps two at a time. Tim’s heart is in his throat, his pulse is racing, and they manage to get far enough down the fire escape that when the building blows, they’re thrown away from it instead of killed.
Tim lands on his side and feels a sharp pain in his shoulder. He rolls over on his stomach, coughing and spitting. His mouth tastes like ash.
“Kon?” He tries to pretend to himself that his voice isn’t panicked and desperate.
He hears Kon cough, a few feet away from him. “I’m okay. You?”
Tim moves, and the pain in his shoulder gets worse. It feels like a dislocation; hopefully nothing worse. “I’ll live.”
Tim tries to stand, and then he stiffens. There are voices around the corner, and they don’t sound friendly.
“*Fuck,*” Kon whispers next to Tim, helping him to his feet. They look around wildly, but there’s nowhere to hide, just debris and rubble and nowhere they won’t be *found*--
Tim feels a whoosh, and then the ground beneath him just... disappears. He stares at Kon in disbelief, and Kon stares right back. When Tim looks down at the ground (the ground that is suddenly 70 feet below them), he can see men in black suits with violin cases walk over the ground they’d been standing on a few seconds ago.
Kon is holding onto him tight enough to hurt Tim’s injured shoulder. Tim wishes he were holding tighter. He breathes hard and rests his forehead against Kon’s broad shoulder. He knew he should have taken steps to cure himself of that fear of heights.
“Oh -- oh my god, I can hear what they’re *saying*.” Kon’s voice is a hoarse, awed whisper, and if there were any doubt as to who, exactly, is enabling them to fly -- or at least float -- in Tim’s mind, it’s gone now.
“They’re -- god. They blew up that building just to get to *me.* And you, too, because they think we’re in league -- oh god -- they don’t think it killed us. They’re looking for our bodies.”
Tim prays they don’t look up. He doesn’t even think they’d be *able* to see them, but he doesn’t want to take the chance.
Then suddenly they’re falling, and Kon curses and they stop, ten feet below their previous altitude. Tim is clinging to Kon without reservation, and trying not to whimper.
“Kon,” he finally says, doing his best to keep his voice level. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”