Title: Not quite a sleepover Fandom: DCU Pairing: Robin/Speedy (Teen Titans v1) Rating/Summary: Teen-agers doing naughty teen-ager things Notes: For Derry, who provided a canon nickname. This happens the day after In a trice. Written at DerryCon. It's pretty dank in the abandoned warehouse. The docks are close enough that the air smells like salt and sea, even inside. The glass in all the windows is shattered, scattered across the floor by vandals. Gotham isn't easy on its empty buildings. In the dark, lit only by the slanting beams from streetlights, Robin's suit hardly shows up as being any brighter than his mentor's. But his smile sparkles even in the dark. Robin's like that. Speedy's suit is darker, more shadowed, and he isn't sure his answering grin shows up. "You made it." "'course I did, Shafty." "Without your chaperone, too." Robin's smile widens so much it's got to hurt. "He knows I'm with you." Speedy raises an eyebrow and peels his gloves off. Robin can't see it, of course, but the skepticism has to come across. "And that's okay? He trusts me?" "He trusts me, mostly," Robin says. "He'll call if he needs me, but I said we'd patrol down here. He won't expect to see us until three." "Three, huh?" Speedy goes to kiss him, except Robin's already kissing him and tugging his tights down. He can only think about that wide smile, bright and happy and hungry. Robin kisses like it's been weeks, even though it hasn't even been a day. "Oh, god," Robin says, half a sigh, and he wraps himself around Speedy, an arm around his shoulders, a leg around his waist. "I missed you." Speedy chuckles and bites his ear. "Like you haven't seen me all day, Boy Wonder?" "Not like this," Robin says, squeezing Speedy's ass with extremely distracting enthusiasm. "-- right." He returns the favor and makes Robin squeak. "Did you bring a bedroll or something?" There's Robin's grin again, even more dazzling up close. "It's a Bat-Mattress. Actually." Speedy says a few silent words of thanks that there's nothing called the Arrow-Mattress. Yet. "Where'd you put it?" "Back up a couple of steps," Robin says, leaning on him. Speedy wouldn't trip if he had better boots, and he probably wouldn't fall backward if Robin wasn't throwing his center of gravity off. And if his underwear wasn't around his thighs. As it is, he appreciates the thickness of the Bat-Mattress. Robin manages to land smoothly without squishing him. Sometimes the kid's so good it's scary. Nobody that desperate for it should be that goddamned graceful. "Right there," he says, and throws himself into another kiss. "Good thing," Speedy says, unfastening Robin's belt and pulling up his tunic. "You could handle it anyway." Robin wriggles. It's going to drive him nuts. Not for the first time, either. If he keeps doing that, Speedy's going to live up to the codename he's already starting to regret, and he'll never hear the end of it. "Hang on," he manages to say when Robin comes up for air. It doesn't exactly stop him, but it distracts him enough to slow him down to gentle rocking. "What? Why?" "Ah -- is this all you wanted?" That gets through and makes him hold still. "Oh. Right." Robin shivers. "Do you wanna?" Speedy's laugh sounds choked even in the echoing cinderblock building. "Hell yes." "Oh. Okay. Sure." Robin reaches into one of the compartments on his utility belt. "Do you want some -- stuff?" There's a little alarm that goes off in Speedy's head when Robin says things like this. It goes, 'He's just a kid,' over and over. He wishes it would shut up. "Yeah, sure," he says. Whatever Robin puts on his fingers is really slippery and a little cold. He suppresses the urge to ask why Robin's got the stuff in his belt and just goes with it. Robin makes little hungry noises and presses back against his finger, saying, "God, don't make me wait for it." It's tempting to make him whimper again, beg with that needy little movement, but that would take self-restraint. Robin's not just a kid, he's a kid who's really hot, really desperate for it, and not even going to respond to "This okay?" with words. Just a groan, and he squeezes Speedy's shoulder. Probably it's as close to yes as he can get. He's not grinning anymore. In the shadows, his face has gone completely focused, like he's going to loose an arrow. Which isn't the best comparison, but it works. Most archers don't sigh like Robin does, but they probably limber up a little better, and the extended metaphor is just falling apart because damn, but Robin's good. Speedy has arm strength, but the kid's legs -- especially his thighs -- that he can move like that without anything to lean on -- Mindblowing isn't the half of it. And when Speedy gets his brain back enough to remember to stroke him, Robin gasps, and damn if he doesn't start going, if not faster, then more so. It would be a great time to make a comment about the positive side-effects of physical training if it was possible to breathe, or think, or do anything except shudder and lose himself in the way this feels. He says something completely incoherent. Robin says something just as wordless and hungry and comes, shuddering and squeezing his shoulders hard. He doesn't even pause for breath, just kisses Speedy. It's more than enough to make him lose it. Robin's laughing and kissing him him again while the world goes dark and wonderful for a minute. When he manages to refocus, he kisses Robin back. Robin's grinning again. "So. The Bat-Mattress. Pretty good, huh?" "Yeah. It's really handy." Speedy grins back at him. "Do you have any, you know, washcloths or something?" "Yeah, hang on." Robin reaches for his belt again. "We should probably go." Speedy rocks his hips, even though he doesn't really mean it, yet. "It's not even one. You said we had until three." It brings out Robin's heroic side, which is cute, but too serious. "We should go patrol." "Patrol? When we could be here?" Robin punches his shoulder and gets up. "We can take another break, but we have work to do." Speedy rolls his eyes, realizes that the effect is totally lost in the dark, and sighs heavily instead. "Okay, goody-two-boots. Let's go fight crime." He sits up. Robin tosses him some kind of damp washcloth. "One-thirty. Unless something else comes up." Speedy sniggers, and Robin punches him again. "Oh, shut up. Let's get out of here."
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