Outside the Strip Club - NSFW
Moved from here
The brush and beat of Dick's fingers on Tim's shoulder made his knees buckle as his mind supplied the scene Dick's words painted. It helped that it was easy to remember exactly that scenario--Dick home late, before the days in the police, before the bartending job, seven years ago in New York when Dick would return to his alien princess. Neither of them had had any shame and that had carried through the camera lens, scorching it with their passion. Back then, he hadn't put himself there but he had a feeling that forever after he was going to be doing exactly that when he thought back.
His eyes focused on Dick's mouth, hands lifting out of his pockets and curving around Dick's hips. "I'll keep that in mind." He leaned in, fitting his mouth over Dick's, taking it deep and sweet, licking into his mouth. "Stand still," he said huskily and then slid to his knees, his fingers tucking into Dick's waistband.
Tim's gaze darkens and focuses on his mouth, giving Dick just long enough to anticipate the feel of their mouths colliding before they do. Except Tim's so controlled, even with both of them jumping out of their skin with the need to touch, there's no collision, no roughness, just Tim's mouth, sweet, wet and possessive. The claim might be less aggressive than in the fantasy, but the sparks going off at the base of his spine say it's no less effective. When Tim drops, his fingers tremble on his shoulder and his lashes lower, fluttering.
"I think I can manage standing." He tries to tease, but his voice comes out raw on superheated breath. "'Still' may be a stretch."
Tim checked their surroundings again, just in case. They really didn't have much time here, just enough for this, but Tim wanted to have something of Dick before he went back to being everyone else's fantasy. "Not that still." While his hands dipped in, bringing Dick's cock to stand proudly, Tim indulged his favorite pastime, licking at the hard lines of Dick's abs, obsessively mapping the planes of his muscles. He jacked Dick slowly, because he liked the velvet soft feeling of his cock in his palm and because it made it less startling when Tim abandoned Dick's stomach and swallowed him down instead.
Dick's gaze follows Tim's, and he tunes his hearing beyond his own already-erratic breathing. No one there, but he and Kory took worse chances back in the day. If there's anything hotter than being Tim's like this, his to do what he pleases with, it's being Tim's like when they could be discovered at any second. If his grip on Tim's shoulder and his fingers woven through Tim's hair don't make that clear, the jut of his cock, the weight of his sac, the little hitching breaths that can't become moans would give him away. Before he ever gets his lips around Dick's cock, Dick's leaking and straining not to thrust from Tim's tongue on his abs. "God, Tim, this is... god."
"Shh," Tim hushed him affectionately when he pulled off momentarily, stroking his fingers along the heated curve of Dick's ball, just a gentle tease. He wasn't immune to the setting, to the urgency of it and that was part of the reason that he was just on his knees for Dick instead of something more. He wasted no more time on soothing and licked a stripe up the underside of Dick's cock, "Gotta make this fast," he added, half an apology. He stifled his moan by sliding his mouth back around Dick's shaft, cheeks hollowing out with the suction.
He nods at Tim's words, strokes his fingers through his hair and against his cheek in a promise he doesn't mind. Fast is good, fuck, fast is very good, especially with his pupils dilated enough and eyes adjusting to show him Tim's mouth stretching down and around him. His foot flexes restlessly, toes beating out the ohgodfuck/hiohgod he has to swallow instead of moan. He drops his head back against the wall because he can't watch anymore and thrusts, shallow little bursts of his hips for friction, so close already just because it's Tim.
Tim petted Dick's thigh, letting him fuck his mouth, humming low in his throat. His mouth and his throat are going to feel so used after this; no one will look at him without knowing what he'd been doing. That was part of why Tim was the one on his knees instead of Dick who had to go back inside. Tim opened his eyes and looked up at Dick, watching him lose composure, fraying like a knot against rock. Love you, he thought, love you so much.
He smacks against the wall with his palm and then his head again. Lifts the hand to wrap behind his own neck and hold on. His teeth grip the inside of his lip almost as tight. All of it to keep back the wanton sounds that want to spill free. Too much, not enough, later he's taking Tim to bed and one or both of them's getting fucked and there will be sweat and skin and - god, Tim. His fingers clench in Tim's hair, hips rock, sharp and frantic, orgasm boiling up - no time to warn Tim and he wouldn't stop anyway - and over, fingernails digging into the back of his own neck to keep from crying out.
He choked and moaned, swallowing down without hesitation, his hands working against Dick's skin, loving, coaxing out more. Later, there would be time to really enjoy this for what it is instead of just the joy of making Dick come all undone. It's giving back just a little of the way Dick made him feel all the time, like the world has condensed down to his blue eyes, his beautiful body. Tim didn't always overthink everything. Sometimes it just felt right. This was one of those things.
Beyond thinking, running on instinct, adrenaline, emotion, Dick pulses out the last of it, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes from the intensity and the need for restraint. Little by little, he pries his grip loose from Tim's hair, pets his hair with that peculiar insistence that drunks get when they're trying to prove they're not while he tries to pull himself back together. "Fuck," he swears on a quiet sigh. He's all unspooled, naked and vulnerable and Tim's beautiful at his feet and Dick wants to be kissed. He wants to be kissed now. "Timmy. Tim, c'mere."
Tim flowed back to his feet, as graceful in his own economical way as Dick was in his showiness. He was still licking his lips, his mouth swollen and abused and shining wet. His hands skated up Dick's chest, molding over the hard planes of his muscles. "I love you," he murmured, sparing as he ever was with the words, just loud enough for Dick to hear before he kissed him.
Just a back alley blow job, but his heart's pounding and his vision's blurred. His fingers won't close right, because they can't stop moving through Tim's hair and over his back and his face. He can't catch his breath because he'd have to stop chasing Tim's mouth and licking the taste of himself off it. "Love you," he whispers into Tim's mouth, too greedy with his tongue and lips to pull away. His fist catches, closing finally in Tim's hair behind his head. "God, I'm so in love with you." He jams his mouth down over Tim's kissing him hard to stem the flow of sex-drunk words that he definitely means but Tim won't know what to do with.
That would never stop being a knockout, putting Tim head over heels and temporarily disoriented about everything except Dick, the ever-present center of his world. He pushed Dick back against the wall, holding him there and took the kiss, greedy and demanding and claiming. He was hard as a rock and patrol was going to be agony. It was perfect. Like a fantasy come real.
The brush and beat of Dick's fingers on Tim's shoulder made his knees buckle as his mind supplied the scene Dick's words painted. It helped that it was easy to remember exactly that scenario--Dick home late, before the days in the police, before the bartending job, seven years ago in New York when Dick would return to his alien princess. Neither of them had had any shame and that had carried through the camera lens, scorching it with their passion. Back then, he hadn't put himself there but he had a feeling that forever after he was going to be doing exactly that when he thought back.
His eyes focused on Dick's mouth, hands lifting out of his pockets and curving around Dick's hips. "I'll keep that in mind." He leaned in, fitting his mouth over Dick's, taking it deep and sweet, licking into his mouth. "Stand still," he said huskily and then slid to his knees, his fingers tucking into Dick's waistband.
Tim's gaze darkens and focuses on his mouth, giving Dick just long enough to anticipate the feel of their mouths colliding before they do. Except Tim's so controlled, even with both of them jumping out of their skin with the need to touch, there's no collision, no roughness, just Tim's mouth, sweet, wet and possessive. The claim might be less aggressive than in the fantasy, but the sparks going off at the base of his spine say it's no less effective. When Tim drops, his fingers tremble on his shoulder and his lashes lower, fluttering.
"I think I can manage standing." He tries to tease, but his voice comes out raw on superheated breath. "'Still' may be a stretch."
Tim checked their surroundings again, just in case. They really didn't have much time here, just enough for this, but Tim wanted to have something of Dick before he went back to being everyone else's fantasy. "Not that still." While his hands dipped in, bringing Dick's cock to stand proudly, Tim indulged his favorite pastime, licking at the hard lines of Dick's abs, obsessively mapping the planes of his muscles. He jacked Dick slowly, because he liked the velvet soft feeling of his cock in his palm and because it made it less startling when Tim abandoned Dick's stomach and swallowed him down instead.
Dick's gaze follows Tim's, and he tunes his hearing beyond his own already-erratic breathing. No one there, but he and Kory took worse chances back in the day. If there's anything hotter than being Tim's like this, his to do what he pleases with, it's being Tim's like when they could be discovered at any second. If his grip on Tim's shoulder and his fingers woven through Tim's hair don't make that clear, the jut of his cock, the weight of his sac, the little hitching breaths that can't become moans would give him away. Before he ever gets his lips around Dick's cock, Dick's leaking and straining not to thrust from Tim's tongue on his abs. "God, Tim, this is... god."
"Shh," Tim hushed him affectionately when he pulled off momentarily, stroking his fingers along the heated curve of Dick's ball, just a gentle tease. He wasn't immune to the setting, to the urgency of it and that was part of the reason that he was just on his knees for Dick instead of something more. He wasted no more time on soothing and licked a stripe up the underside of Dick's cock, "Gotta make this fast," he added, half an apology. He stifled his moan by sliding his mouth back around Dick's shaft, cheeks hollowing out with the suction.
He nods at Tim's words, strokes his fingers through his hair and against his cheek in a promise he doesn't mind. Fast is good, fuck, fast is very good, especially with his pupils dilated enough and eyes adjusting to show him Tim's mouth stretching down and around him. His foot flexes restlessly, toes beating out the ohgodfuck/hiohgod he has to swallow instead of moan. He drops his head back against the wall because he can't watch anymore and thrusts, shallow little bursts of his hips for friction, so close already just because it's Tim.
Tim petted Dick's thigh, letting him fuck his mouth, humming low in his throat. His mouth and his throat are going to feel so used after this; no one will look at him without knowing what he'd been doing. That was part of why Tim was the one on his knees instead of Dick who had to go back inside. Tim opened his eyes and looked up at Dick, watching him lose composure, fraying like a knot against rock. Love you, he thought, love you so much.
He smacks against the wall with his palm and then his head again. Lifts the hand to wrap behind his own neck and hold on. His teeth grip the inside of his lip almost as tight. All of it to keep back the wanton sounds that want to spill free. Too much, not enough, later he's taking Tim to bed and one or both of them's getting fucked and there will be sweat and skin and - god, Tim. His fingers clench in Tim's hair, hips rock, sharp and frantic, orgasm boiling up - no time to warn Tim and he wouldn't stop anyway - and over, fingernails digging into the back of his own neck to keep from crying out.
He choked and moaned, swallowing down without hesitation, his hands working against Dick's skin, loving, coaxing out more. Later, there would be time to really enjoy this for what it is instead of just the joy of making Dick come all undone. It's giving back just a little of the way Dick made him feel all the time, like the world has condensed down to his blue eyes, his beautiful body. Tim didn't always overthink everything. Sometimes it just felt right. This was one of those things.
Beyond thinking, running on instinct, adrenaline, emotion, Dick pulses out the last of it, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes from the intensity and the need for restraint. Little by little, he pries his grip loose from Tim's hair, pets his hair with that peculiar insistence that drunks get when they're trying to prove they're not while he tries to pull himself back together. "Fuck," he swears on a quiet sigh. He's all unspooled, naked and vulnerable and Tim's beautiful at his feet and Dick wants to be kissed. He wants to be kissed now. "Timmy. Tim, c'mere."
Tim flowed back to his feet, as graceful in his own economical way as Dick was in his showiness. He was still licking his lips, his mouth swollen and abused and shining wet. His hands skated up Dick's chest, molding over the hard planes of his muscles. "I love you," he murmured, sparing as he ever was with the words, just loud enough for Dick to hear before he kissed him.
Just a back alley blow job, but his heart's pounding and his vision's blurred. His fingers won't close right, because they can't stop moving through Tim's hair and over his back and his face. He can't catch his breath because he'd have to stop chasing Tim's mouth and licking the taste of himself off it. "Love you," he whispers into Tim's mouth, too greedy with his tongue and lips to pull away. His fist catches, closing finally in Tim's hair behind his head. "God, I'm so in love with you." He jams his mouth down over Tim's kissing him hard to stem the flow of sex-drunk words that he definitely means but Tim won't know what to do with.
That would never stop being a knockout, putting Tim head over heels and temporarily disoriented about everything except Dick, the ever-present center of his world. He pushed Dick back against the wall, holding him there and took the kiss, greedy and demanding and claiming. He was hard as a rock and patrol was going to be agony. It was perfect. Like a fantasy come real.