Damian wakes up warm and almost well rested - no bat is ever really fully well rested. He breathes in slowly, taking in his surroundings and relaxing slightly when he doesn’t sense any threats. He’s lying on a large bed, the comforter stolen from his person and bunched up around the lump at his side. The only visible thing he can see from the bundle of blankets is a few tufts of dark hairs sticking out from the blankets.
He shifts and subsequently stills when the bundle under the blankets start moving. “ Mmph .”
Damian releases a breath too soft to be considered a snort. “Good morning, Timothy.”
The blanket gets pulled down enough for Tim to reveal a red rimmed eye to glare at Damian. Damian’s lips pull up slightly.
“Wake up so we can head out for brunch - I know you don’t keep any actual sustenance in the penthouse despite Pennyworth’s best efforts…” his voice trails off as he steps into the en suite bathroom to wash up. Tim thinks it’ll be fine to just go back to sleep and order in, and ends up almost screeching for his trouble when Damian upends the bed and watches him roll defensively onto the floor.
“The sooner we eat, the sooner we can get back to the case.” Tim grumbles in his wake but trudges to get ready anyway.
Damian has never been more grateful for the League and his father’s training until now - he would have been bumping into random pedestrians and walking into posts and signs if not for his quick reflexes and spatial awareness otherwise. He’s distracted okay?
It’s one of those rare sunny days in Gotham and he’s strolling around with Tim leisurely. They’ve made headway in their latest case and he’s even gotten Tim to sleep an almost full eight hours - Richard would be so proud.
Damian swallows when Tim turns his head to gazes back and forth before they cross the street, the morning sunlight lighting his profile in ways that Damian longs to put to paper immediately. Tim will deny it, but he truly is stunning.
To be fair, all of their family is strikingly gorgeous, but Tim is a specific type of beautiful. His hair falls dark and silky, framing his piercing blue eyes. His glass skin is clear save from small scars they’ve already overexplained to the public, his lips ombre-d red to pink from how much he bites them. Damian wants to bite them too.
They fall in line and give their orders. Damian knows that Tim can’t go too long from his coffee but as they speak he doesn’t turn around to check where his order is in the queue and Damian feels warm. There’s a slight stop in their conversation as they just bask in each others’ presence, smiling at each other.
He steps forward to collect their orders when it’s called, thanking the barista. When he turns around to make his way back he sees someone approach Tim where he is standing.
Damian’s jaw clenches when he sees the man step closer to Tim, leaning down to get closer to him. He takes a few deep meditative breaths to keep from letting his hands ball up into fists as he sees Tim take a step back, putting space between the man and himself. Tim can more than take care of himself but Damian can’t help the primal part of his brain from snarling at the man in this head even as he walks to put himself between the two of them, separating.
If Damian’s keeps his hand on the small of Tim’s back the entire walk back to the penthouse and glares at a few people who seem to walk a little too clase, well, Tim hasn’t called him out on it so he assumes it’s okay, if not welcomed.
They make their way back up and discard their empty cups, caffeine infused into their systems and ready to keep them up for the next round of case analysis. Damian is putting down his glass of water after a sip when he finally addresses Tim’s stare - he’s been staring since they’ve left the cafe and it’s kept up even with the lull in conversation.
‘“You know,” Tim starts, eyes pinning Damian down, voice quiet and clear, “In older times it was customary for alphas to challenge others who they believed wanted to court their intended mate. Many challenges ended in permanent injury or death for the losing parties because the stronger, more brutal alphas would go into a rage and wanted to show their dominance over their “lesser” rival...”
Damian raises an eyebrow and walks over closer to him. “Is there a reason you’re reiterating history we both already know?”
Tim shrugs and leans back against the counter, pinning Damian down with his dark, challenging stare, unblinking. “I don’t know, I just got reminded of it today.”
“Have you?” Damian breathes, an arm’s length from him.’
Tim doesn’t blink as he stares Damian down, spies a bead of sweat trail down his temple, can see the undulation of his throat as he swallows harshly, enveloped in Tim’s scent. Damian’s nostrils flare as he takes in Tim’s natural scent; all of the Bats wear scent patches enough that sometimes it is just nice to bask in their presence, natural and trusting.
Tim is the smart Robin, the strategist, the Detective. He’s never been called stupid but he has been called reckless. He raises his chin to expose the pale expanse of his throat to Damian; shivering slightly in his vulnerability.
Damian’s control is strong and will only get stronger - but it’s not immune to Tim. He lunges with the agility of the fighter that he is. Tim goes down more than willingly.
Tim chuckles - breathless from the earlier claim, because that is what it was no matter what they will call it later, a public claim - and allows Damian to cage him against the counter. Damian braces himself over Tim, almost looming, and Tim shivers at the quick snap of teeth teasing at his throat, nipping at his scent glands before he comes back to himself and holds himself back.
“Timothy,” Damian prompts, limbs stiff with how still they suddenly hold themselves. “Are you-”
“Dami,” Tim says, pushing strands of hair from Damian’s forehead and then dragging his fingers down his face until he has a finger under Damian’s chin, baiting him forward until their lips barely touch just so . “ Please. ”
Now that he knows he’s allowed, Damian’s fingers tremble as they shift from grasping Tim’s hips, his waist, his thighs. He doesn’t know where his hands want to be, wants to be, want to touch everywhere at once.
Damian tips forward and devours him with the savage grace that’s present in everything he does, that ardent single-mindedness that leaves Tim breathless even after only a handful of lippy kisses. Tim’s arms drape over Damian’s shoulders, clawing at the material of his sweater to untuck it from his trousers, cashmere bunching soft in his hands.
Tim is distinctively tired of waiting and all but rips the sweater from Damian’s person, almost upending some of the seams when he pulls and pulls until Damian is freed to kiss him again, cloth falling from his arms onto the floor.
Tim makes an approving trill in the back of his throat when his hands come into contact with Damian’s bare skin, fingers and wrists pressing into the scent glands in Damian’s neck a little harsher than he intends, scenting, scenting, he needs to smell like me - before Damian pulls back slightly.
Before he can make a displeased sound, Damian’s hands move from his waist to grasp underneath his thighs and lift, placing Tim on the cool marble counter quickly. Tim shivers.
There’s a moment of stillness -tense- as they just stare at each other, breathing each other’s air, so close that Tim can feel the pulse of Damian’s heart in the hands that are still holding onto his thighs, can hear his own beating loudly in his ears.
Tim’s fingers lightly trace the features of Damian’s face, thumbs smoothing underneath Damian’s eyes and across his cheekbones, a finger tracing the shell of Damian’s ear.
He pulls Damian forward until their noses brush. “Kiss me?” he asks.
Damian moves forward, slow but sure, and presses their lips together again. He’s still intense, but it isn’t as ferocious as before. One of his hands snakes around to wrap around Tim’s waist, the other moving between Tim’s legs to press against where he’s wet.
“You should…” Tim trails off, eyes fluttering closed as his hips move against the press of Damian’s fingers along his clit, chasing harder pressure.
“I should...?” Damian breathes the question, nose nuzzling Tim’s temple.
“ Undress me .”
Heat pools in Damian’s lower back, travelling from his head down his spine to gather in the small of his back at Tim’s command. There is nothing Damian wouldn't do for him.
Tim’s hands restlessly roam over Damian’s bare back, his broad shoulders, his chest. Damian rumbles deep in his chest when he feels the cool press of Tim’s hands against his skin.
Tim gushes at the sound, slick smearing his thighs. Damian’s barely even touched him and Tim’s already gonna be sliding off of these countertops, wet. One of his legs brushes the material of Damian’s trousers and the fact that he’s still wearing pants could be considered a crime to Tim.
“Take this off,” Tim demands, tilting his head to let Damian trail kisses down his neck as he grabs the belt loops to tug Damian’s hips to his and start unbuckling his belt as fast as he can, shoving and pulling at cloth and metal until he all but rips Damian’s fly open to cup a hand around Damian’s cock.
He’s hot and heavy and Tim can’t stop the small moan he releases when he feels the weight of it in his hand. He clenches in want and feels himself get wetter, slick dripping down from him and onto the counter, body unconsciously preparing to take in all of that. Damian growls and bucks up into his hand and if Tim releases any more slick he’s going to slide right off the penthouse’s pristine marble countertops and hopefully right onto Damian’s waiting dick-
The second it takes for Damian to push his pants and underwear low enough to expose himself feels like an eternity and a half to Tim, whose hands are sneakily palming Damian’s hips and cupping his ass when it’s revealed to pull them closer together. Damian stumbles forward and smacks his palms against the counter to regain balance as he crowds into Tim’s space.
Tim’s desperation claws through his throat as a whine as he takes in Damian’s dark, blown out eyes, the miles of scarred tanned skin. His mouth waters as he finally takes in Damian’s thick. glorious cock, standing proud and curving towards his abdomen from sheer hunger alone. Tim can’t help the way he licks his lips or when he widens the space between his thighs; Damian is larger and thicker than every one of his dreams and Tim wants.
His thighs quiver just at the thought of that big, fat cock sinking so deeply into his cunt that the tip will hit the crown of his cervix with every thrust, how big and how full a cock like that could knot him up, plug him up full of seed as though he’s nothing but a womb to be bred.
“Come on, come on,” Tim hisses, mindlessly inpatient, only existing to be speared by Damian’s cock in this moment.
Damian makes a sound like Tim is killing him and uses his hands to push Tim’s thighs wider, hooking Tim’s knees over his elbows. Damian is so hard and Tim is so ready that Tim doesn’t even have to guide him inside, the lips of his cunt opening and sucking Damian inside, enticing him deeper, deeper, until Damian bottoms out in one smooth, silky thrust.
Damian sinks to the hilt inside of him and Tim can only do what anyone would do in this moment: he comes. He moans high and overwhelmed in his throat the very second he feels Damian’s balls press against him, muscles convulsing and clenching around that thick girth.
Tim feels more than hears the pleased rumbles that Damian makes as he shakes in Damian’s hold, his arms thrown around Damian’s neck and legs released to wrap around Damian’s waist, pulling him as close as he can as Tim trembles with what he knows is one of the many orgasms to come.
Damian shudders when he feels Tim’s walls flutter around him, Tim clutching at him in his overwhelmed state. That shouldn’t satisfy Damian as much as it does, but he’s still inordinately pleased.
Damian can’t remember when he first started wanting Tim, but there are snippets throughout the years that cement his want: Tim, seated at the batcomputer, a mug of coffee at his elbow, writing notes on his tablet and solving three cold cases that Bruce had left out before he went into space on a mission with the JLA; Tim groggily walking into the dining room, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, sleep attire wrinkled and almost threadbare - his frayed sweatshirt is Dick’s, his shorts are Damian’s old running shorts that do not fit him anymore, the vibrant Wonder Woman socks on his feet are Jason’s; Tim strutting towards him, wingtips clacking along the ballroom floor to swoop in and save Damian from upper class society vultures who are throwing their children or even themselves at him.
Damian wants Tim in all his iterations, wants the CEO, the hero, the caffeine addicted geeky mess of a man that he is. Damian wants it all. He wants all of Tim’s sleepy snuffles into his neck in the middle of the night, wants the cold smirk he gives Rogues and villains alike, wants the chapped, bitten lips, the wrist wringing, the sharp robin-egg blue eyes, everything.
He wants to bury himself so deeply into Tim that Tim will never forget what he feels like, wants to suffocate on Tim’s kisses, air a secondary need. He wants to gorge himself on Tim’s ecstasy, gag himself on Tim’s rapture, wants to take one of those bejeweled, ornate daggers he’s seen in his Grandfather’s armory and plunge it into his chest to carve out his heart so that he can present his heart to Tim, a show of his devotion.
Damian leans down to nuzzle at his scent glands, pressing the kisses he’s always wanted to against Tim’s throat, kissing up up up until Damian reaches his lips. Tim’s arms unwrap from his neck so that his hands can cup Damian’s cheeks, pulling him down towards him to lick into his mouth.
Damian pulls slightly back, unwrapping Tim’s quivering legs from around his waist so that he can hold him open, pulling his hips back and snapping them forward, sinking smoothly back into Tim. He starts up a languid pace, the desperate edge stalled with Tim’s first orgasm. Tim’s head tilts back as he sighs, soft and sweet as Damian comes back into him, again, again, again.
Tim is wet , shrieking through an overflowing cascade of climaxes, clench clench clenching down on Damian, cocklet spurting everything left in him. He whines his way back into semi-coherency, limbs heavy and honeyed as he gulps in air and Damian’s scent.
Damian leans over him, dipping Tim down onto the counter, flinching when the cool marble meets the heat of his back. Damian braces his weight on his forearms, caging Tim into his space. The veins in his arm bulge as he strains to hold himself up over Tim so as not to crush him.
Tim’s arms wind around him to pull them chest to chest anyway. Damian can’t pull too far back in this position but he can sink deeper into Tim at this angle. Damian shifts to distribute his weight more evenly across his arms causing Tim to jolt when Damian starts to rub harder at a good spot inside him, exhales forced out as a breathy whine. “ Oh- ”
Damian fucks into him harder than before, chasing down his pleasure with the brutal single-mindedness Damian has when he fights, knocking out enemies with efficient jabs and biting sword swipes. Tim jerks with every thrust back into him, his head tossing back and forth as he’s filled so deliciously full. He’s so wet and his cocklet keeps up a steady stream of precum beading at the tip, dribbling down and falling onto the skin of his stomach with every jerk of his body along with Damian’s thrusts. It’s so good he can’t help but toss his head back, throat and jugular exposed.
Damian’s mouth waters when the hollow of Tim’s throat is bared to him, he bends his head down and presses open-mouthed kisses along this throat, dips his tongue in the grooves of his collar bones, and lightly drags his teeth against Tim’s swollen scent glands, teasing him with the potential of a bite.
Tim pulses hot around Damian at the hint of teeth, baring more of his throat to him. He’s a sight: glowing. smooth skin sutured together by scars, pink bitten lips and an even pinker glistening cunt, the sharpest eyes honey-glazed over in pleasure, veiled by want. Damian’s heart stutters at the sight of him.
“You are so beautiful ya amar,” Damian whispers, sealing the words into Tim’s skin with his lips where he aches to bite. He inhales the heavy arousal present in Tim’s scent and sighs besottedly into the damp of Tim’s scent glands.
Tim drags a hand from where it’s clawing at the meat of Damian’s shoulder to drag up his neck and tangle into Damian’s hair to push his head up in a position where Tim can kiss him.
Tim devours him with subtle, stubborn persistence that Damian hips pause, allowing them to just be together, to just be, in the moment. Damian feels Tim’s thighs quaking around him, his own hips twitching as they kiss, wet and messy.
They break apart unwillingly for air several times but can’t help but chase each other’s mouths again and again and again. Damian starts back up a slow rock of his hips, hands underneath Tim’s shoulder blades to hold him close.
Tim feels completely undone - he’s drowning in Damian’s musky scent, has his mouth filled with the taste of him, feels the long drag of his cock pull out and the smooth push in. One of his hands jolts with halted jerky movements to make its way down to grasp at his cocklet, quickly thumbing the head, moving down to rub at his pink pulsing clit, once twice, three times and shudders when it feels like too much, letting his hand come back up to rest on his stomach.
Tim swears he can feel Damian that deep inside him as he presses down on his lower stomach, the vee of his hips widening still as much as his body will allow. Damian curses under his breath when he sees Tim press against his stomach, he’s so hard that it’s almost painful, hips stuttering for a few seconds before he shoves back into Tim forcefully.
Damian wants to possess him, craves every inch of him, the primal lizard brain of his continually chanting claim claim claim-
Damian wants to consume Tim in his entirety, his need to own and be owned is all encompassing, all consuming and Damian never wants this to ever end, wants to crave Tim like this forever, wants to want and possess even when Tim is already his, wants more more more.
Here Damian’s eyes screams as their gazes lock. Here is my burning heart, take it and eat of it and ache for me as I ache for you.
Damian is so close, his hips snap snap snapping up into Tim’s wet, pink cunt, pace punishing enough to pin Tim down where he is laid out on the counter, head thrown backwards and hands scrabbling along marble that’s slipping through slippery fingers.
“Tim, Timothy, hayati” Damian groans out, helpless in the way he falls and surrenders himself in Tim’s embrace, nailing him once, twice, thrice before he takes Tim’s slim hips in his hands and pushes them together, keeping Tim exactly where he wants him, still seated so deep Tim thinks that he can feel Damian in his throat, his knot swelling and locking them together. Tim keens and comes, so full he can barely handle himself, walls fluttering around Damian’s cock, quick and frenzied. Tim is completely unprepared for how hard he comes, but doesn’t hesitate to allow himself to sink into the sludge of pleasure coursing through his veins, full body shudders running through him at the force of it.
Tim doesn’t know how long it takes for him to come back into his body, but he and Damian are still panting and they are still knotted together. Tim can feel the broad of Damian’s shoulders under his hands, but he can barely even grasp them, hands and legs jellified. The muscles in his face relax as he starts to float back down, the furrow in his brow smoothing out as Tim’s eyelashes flutter before he blinks opens his eyes - he doesn’t know when he’d closed them.
He stares up at the ceiling for a few more dazed moments, feels the puff of Damian’s breath against his neck, feels the constant pulse of him inside Tim. He runs his hands out over Damian’s shoulders and smooths them down his spine, fingers tracing the knob of each vertebrae he can reach, another hand reaching up to thread through Damina’s thick hair, thumb massaging the base of his skull, blissed out of his mind.
He doesn’t realize he’s purring until one of Damian’s hands move from where it was settled to cup at Tim’s neck, thumb tracing up his throat to the underside of his jaw to feel it. Tim, loose-limbed, leans into it.
“Rest, Timothy,” Damian insists, pressing a kiss on his forehead before he pulls back to straighten up slowly - they’re still connected. He tightens Tim’s arms still around his shoulders before lifting him and heading towards his room, Tim nosing against Damian’s cheek, still purring. They have the rest of the day after all.