Ficlet: (Un)Intended | DCU | Tim/Jason | R | 1/1
Title: (Un)Intended
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Tim/Jason (Background Jason/Bruce)
Rating: R
Word Count: 715
Prompt: For hc_bingo: Forced Soulbonding; For kissbingo: Other: Punch Drunk; For 50_darkfics: Claws
Summary: The night at the greenhouse had some lasting effects, as it turns out.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Fourteenth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; follows (Un)Armed by a week or so. First in a set of three closely set ficlets, and the start of some serious Tim-whumpage. Be prepared.
(Un)Intended
Tim doesn't think it should feel like this, like chains binding him, pulling him, dragging him to places in the Manor he hasn't intended on going. Something's wrong.
Something's been wrong ever since the... ever since the fight with Ivy in the Greenhouse. He wants-
He needs to be-God, he doesn't want to even think it-near Jason. All the time. Like... like the only way the itching in his brain eases is when he's near the one person he wanted dead before a few weeks ago.
It doesn't make any sense.
And it's driving him crazy, crazier than even being turned made him. How could he possibly want the ass hole that's tormented him since day one? How!?
He can't hide it for much longer, either, not with so many new people in the house-Steph, Cass, the baby-and his state getting worse by the day. It's starting to scare him, that itchy fire that started as a tiny spark, just a little tug, now an inferno, the way he moves on autopilot, often without knowing exactly where he's headed. It would scare anyone, he figures. Would have to.
Then there he is, a month after the greenhouse, standing in a shadowed corner of the master bedroom, watching Jason sleep, Bruce up and wandering, gone for now. He shouldn't be here. He can't be here. But....
But the itching has died down, appeased for the moment. The pull has stopped. And... and his blood feels like it's singing, some otherworldly tune he can't quite make out. He can feel Jason's pulse, smell it, hear it. The blood he tasted only once, that... that he wants to taste again so badly.
No. No!
He can't-can't do this. Can't think straight. Help, he tries to cry out, to warn Jason, to-
But all that escapes him is a whimper, low and needy, and he's already on the bed, climbing up over the sleeping Wolf, body electrified and brain buzzing with those sparking flames. He can practically taste Jason's pulse, the skin hot beneath Tim's tongue as he draws a long swipe over that sweet, throbbing vein in his neck, and his lips are right there, perfect, everything Tim needs, wants, craves. The kiss is perfect, the most delicious thing ever, and-
With a growl, Jason is awake, the world spinning quickly until the Wolf has him pinned on the bed, nails digging into his wrists with just the right amount of pain, and Tim whimpers again, writhing beneath him.
“P-please...” he manages to get out. “I just-”
And then Jason is kissing him back, hard, merciless, his tongue a tendril of flame against Tim's mouth, twin to his own. He feels like he's floating, like everything is just the way it should be, until the sudden snarling growl disrupts the singing of his blood, Jason leaping up off the bed to land, crouched, on an arm chair, his hands morphed into claws, long curved spikes digging into the fabric.
“How long?” he bites out, teeth snapping, points glinting in the dim light from under the door.
Tim tries to shake off the haze of the adrenaline rush, staring at Jason for what feels like forever. It takes entirely too long to regain coherency, the phantom crush of lips still too real, his body mourning the loss with that desperate itching.
“How long!?”
And that startles Tim out of the fog just long enough to answer, the sharp cut of fear slicing through him. “S-since the greenhouse.”
Jason seems to deflate at that, relaxes from his canine stance and form to slide down in the chair, raking his fingers through his hair, gaze down. “You, too, then,” he whispers hoarsely, body shuddering.
The point coming far too slow through the sticky mess of his mind, Tim runs his tongue over a fang and bites his lip, tastes that small ruby of his own blood while clarity slowly emerges. “Wait. Did... did those spores... change us?” he asks after a long, contemplative moment.
Jason's eyes are like blue lasers in the near-darkness. “I think they did.”
And even though his body is still singing for it, demanding he get closer to Jason, Tim knows for a fact now that he shouldn't feel like this.
The realization makes him want to cry, even as the Wolf lunges at him, claws and teeth first, their bond singing in crystalline harmony.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Tim/Jason (Background Jason/Bruce)
Rating: R
Word Count: 715
Prompt: For hc_bingo: Forced Soulbonding; For kissbingo: Other: Punch Drunk; For 50_darkfics: Claws
Summary: The night at the greenhouse had some lasting effects, as it turns out.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Fourteenth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; follows (Un)Armed by a week or so. First in a set of three closely set ficlets, and the start of some serious Tim-whumpage. Be prepared.
(Un)Intended
Tim doesn't think it should feel like this, like chains binding him, pulling him, dragging him to places in the Manor he hasn't intended on going. Something's wrong.
Something's been wrong ever since the... ever since the fight with Ivy in the Greenhouse. He wants-
He needs to be-God, he doesn't want to even think it-near Jason. All the time. Like... like the only way the itching in his brain eases is when he's near the one person he wanted dead before a few weeks ago.
It doesn't make any sense.
And it's driving him crazy, crazier than even being turned made him. How could he possibly want the ass hole that's tormented him since day one? How!?
He can't hide it for much longer, either, not with so many new people in the house-Steph, Cass, the baby-and his state getting worse by the day. It's starting to scare him, that itchy fire that started as a tiny spark, just a little tug, now an inferno, the way he moves on autopilot, often without knowing exactly where he's headed. It would scare anyone, he figures. Would have to.
Then there he is, a month after the greenhouse, standing in a shadowed corner of the master bedroom, watching Jason sleep, Bruce up and wandering, gone for now. He shouldn't be here. He can't be here. But....
But the itching has died down, appeased for the moment. The pull has stopped. And... and his blood feels like it's singing, some otherworldly tune he can't quite make out. He can feel Jason's pulse, smell it, hear it. The blood he tasted only once, that... that he wants to taste again so badly.
No. No!
He can't-can't do this. Can't think straight. Help, he tries to cry out, to warn Jason, to-
But all that escapes him is a whimper, low and needy, and he's already on the bed, climbing up over the sleeping Wolf, body electrified and brain buzzing with those sparking flames. He can practically taste Jason's pulse, the skin hot beneath Tim's tongue as he draws a long swipe over that sweet, throbbing vein in his neck, and his lips are right there, perfect, everything Tim needs, wants, craves. The kiss is perfect, the most delicious thing ever, and-
With a growl, Jason is awake, the world spinning quickly until the Wolf has him pinned on the bed, nails digging into his wrists with just the right amount of pain, and Tim whimpers again, writhing beneath him.
“P-please...” he manages to get out. “I just-”
And then Jason is kissing him back, hard, merciless, his tongue a tendril of flame against Tim's mouth, twin to his own. He feels like he's floating, like everything is just the way it should be, until the sudden snarling growl disrupts the singing of his blood, Jason leaping up off the bed to land, crouched, on an arm chair, his hands morphed into claws, long curved spikes digging into the fabric.
“How long?” he bites out, teeth snapping, points glinting in the dim light from under the door.
Tim tries to shake off the haze of the adrenaline rush, staring at Jason for what feels like forever. It takes entirely too long to regain coherency, the phantom crush of lips still too real, his body mourning the loss with that desperate itching.
“How long!?”
And that startles Tim out of the fog just long enough to answer, the sharp cut of fear slicing through him. “S-since the greenhouse.”
Jason seems to deflate at that, relaxes from his canine stance and form to slide down in the chair, raking his fingers through his hair, gaze down. “You, too, then,” he whispers hoarsely, body shuddering.
The point coming far too slow through the sticky mess of his mind, Tim runs his tongue over a fang and bites his lip, tastes that small ruby of his own blood while clarity slowly emerges. “Wait. Did... did those spores... change us?” he asks after a long, contemplative moment.
Jason's eyes are like blue lasers in the near-darkness. “I think they did.”
And even though his body is still singing for it, demanding he get closer to Jason, Tim knows for a fact now that he shouldn't feel like this.
The realization makes him want to cry, even as the Wolf lunges at him, claws and teeth first, their bond singing in crystalline harmony.
~*~*~*~