Finding Hozho

* * * * *

The first Roy had heard about the new Robin was from Dick. It wasn't long after Jason's death, when Dick dragged his sorry butt back to the Titans, nearly flattened by guilt and pain at Bruce's curt dismissal.

Everyone took turns commiserating with him and Roy could still remember Dick's alternating jealousy and admiration as he described the new kid.

"He figured out who we were," Dick said, sprawled out across a couch, his whole body sagging. "Can you believe it?"

Roy whistled. "He *what*? Bruce must've freaked."

Even through his grief, that got a small smile. "It's complicated. But he's been investigating us. He figured out what happened to Jason and how Bruce has been acting and he marched in and informed me that Batman needed a Robin. Practically dragged me back to Gotham."

Roy leaned forward. "You were tempted."

"Hell, no. I'm not Robin, I'll never be Robin again. I don't miss that." The way Dick's shoulders hunched belied his words, but Roy chose not to call him on it. "This kid's going to be a better Robin than I ever was."

"What?" Roy choked, certain he'd misheard.

"He's right. Batman needs a Robin and this kid may be just the answer. He seems a lot more stable than Jason and he's sure as hell smart."

"I guess so if he cracked the mystery that's pissed off a thousand villains." Roy knew he was no mean detective, but he wondered if *he* could have solved the puzzle from scratch. "How'd he do it?"

"Well, he had an advantage." Dick paused, a familiar flash of pain moving across his face. "He was at the circus the night my parents died."

Roy ran into the new Robin a few times at those mass gatherings that generally only happened when the universe was about to end, but his respect only grew over the years, fed by stories told by a frequently amused Dick, or through the superhero grapevine.

"Not as fast with the quips as our boy Nightwing was," Changeling said, "But he makes up for it by being sharp enough to cut himself."

When the Titans encountered Young Justice in the Optitron headquarters, Roy noticed that Robin had grown. Not so much his body--although he'd certainly been working on that--but his whole demeanor. Leadership had been good to him, Roy thought as he watched Robin keep a close eye on his team even in supposedly safe surroundings. And he saw the way that team--almost unconsciously--revolved around him and made sure they knew where he was.

When STAR labs called for help, Roy watched Nightwing and Robin sort out their teams. He hadn't seen them work together and was impressed anew by their skills.

The moment when Superman snapped Lilith's neck would always stick in Roy's brain as one of the most surreal experiences of his life. Followed closely by the realization that fixing their original robot opponent might be the solution to the problem.

With one arm broken, he needed help. Somehow Robin ended up at his side and Roy found he was smart. Tough. Everything Dick had said he was and more.

They worked together effortlessly, practically reading each other's minds, getting the robot later named Indigo back on her feet. Robin had to be upset over the loss of his teammate and friend, but Roy was impressed that it didn't seem to affect his work at all. Indigo took off moments after they completed the repairs.

His injuries catching up with him, Roy leaned on Robin as they staggered back to the fight with new optimism. They arrived in time to see Donna die, her body falling, Indigo destroying the Superman robot just too late to save her.

Roy's knees buckled and all he remembered later of that moment was Robin's arm around him, holding him as he absorbed the shock, too hurt in body and mind to do anything else.

* * * * *

Roy hadn't seen much of Robin after that, but he kept a closer eye on the exploits of Batman, somehow feeling a bit proprietary about this Robin. Okay, Robin was as good-looking as his predecessors, but he had something else, something Roy couldn't quite define.

He'd never really thought he might find himself *dating* him, of all things. The kiss outside Outsiders HQ had been pleasant, certainly, but Roy figured it for a fluke after Dick's rejection. And yet, two weeks after lunch in his apartment, dating they indubitably were. And it was nothing like any of his previous relationships.

When he was with Tim he found himself wanting all those sappy things he'd given up on years ago: holding hands, soft kisses, laughter, in-jokes that nobody else got. He wanted to make Tim forget about Spoiler, forget about Dick.

Roy had never realized just how sexy brains could be until he began spending time with with Tim. They tried to avoid shoptalk, but some of it was inevitable.

Voice just loud enough for Roy to hear him over the jukebox playing "I Heard It Through the Grapevine," Tim explained the previous night's adventure, moving silverware and sugar packets around the Formica table.

"The hostages were over here," he said, pushing aside his half-eaten pancakes, "and the gang had set up their explosives in these areas." Empty glasses took their places.

"How long did you have?" Roy asked, studying the table with a frown.

"About two minutes. Not enough time for Batman to get there with the equipment." Tim glanced up at him.

Leaning his chin in his hands, Roy considered and discarded various options. "I've got two solutions, but you'd almost certainly have lost a couple of hostages." He tapped a finger on his jaw. "I give up."

Tim gave him a tight Robin smile. "I triggered the explosives here," he said, pointing to his empty orange juice glass.

Roy stared.

"I told you I knew the approximate composition of the warehouse walls *and* how much C-4 they'd stolen, right?" Tim ran a hand through his hair. "I made some rough calculations about how much force this center wall could take and found it was unlikely to send more than small debris at the hostages."

"You calculated that on the spot?"

"Mm-hmm." Sliding a spoon out of the way, Tim moved the sugar hostages through the gap. "Once the wall was damaged, I brought the hostages out this way. We made it out of the building before the other explosives blew. Total injuries: a few broken bones."

Roy grinned. "Impressive." Ducking his head, Tim blushed a little and Roy chuckled as he swatted Tim's head, amused by his sudden bashfulness.

Glancing up, Roy saw their waitress hovering and smiled at her, automatically noting how it made her blush. "Check?" he called to her and she nodded furiously, scurrying away. "So," Roy said as they put their table back in order, "haven't you gotten any queries from the big guy yet about your whereabouts?"

Tim narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Oh. No, he doesn't track me as closely these days. Besides, he thinks I'm liasing between my team and yours."

"You lied to Batman?" Roy hissed, hands gripping the edge of the table hard enough to leave marks in his palms.

"A lie of omission, if you're picky." Tim shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. "I didn't correct his misunderstanding. Besides, I *am* learning a lot from you." Tim's lips quirked in that adorable little smile.

Roy shook his head. "It makes me nervous."

"Don't worry, it'll be fine." Tim said the famous last words with a completely straight face.

* * * * *

Sometimes Roy had to remind himself that this relationship couldn't possibly work. But Tim always came back for more.

Roy hadn't had a lot of serious relationships. A lot of sex, sure, but the success of a long-term relationship had generally eluded him, just as it had his foster father.

With Grace, with Helena, it had been all about sex, about stress release with someone who understood the pressures he was under.

With Cheshire, it was adrenaline and attraction, two fast-living people who *knew* they had no future together. Roy wondered if things would have been different if he'd known about Lian immediately, but he doubted it.

He'd thought Donna was his future for a while, until he realized was was more interested in his bad boy reputation than in the real him.

There'd been men, of course, but that had most often been about sex, not companionship. Fellow CBI agent Jack, who helped him forget Cheshire, then moved on. Sex with good-looking men he'd met in bars.

Hell, he'd never had any problem getting someone--male or female--into bed with him. The right outfit, a flash of a grin, a low-voiced suggestion...yeah, he enjoyed the sex. But there'd been nothing that smacked of permanence.

And that, he'd told himself for a long time, was the way he liked it. Until recently. Until Tim showed up and smiled at him through a fall of black hair.

It wasn't easy, but Roy and Tim took advantage of every snippet of time--dinner in an out-of-the-way Gotham restaurant, racing motorbikes down a deserted highway, an hour sparring in Roy's small gym in the apartment...

They were in that gym now. The room had started out chilly, because Roy knew the peculiarities of his workout room, but it warmed up quickly.

Roy circled to the left, not taking his eyes off his opponent. "That all you got?"

Tim prowled opposite him, and Roy was amazed as always to see how different Tim was in training. The way he moved, with no wasted motion and a grace all his own. "Trash talk?" Tim asked, flexing a wrist to check range of motion.

"Never hurts to try." Roy feinted forward with his left foot, grinning when Tim didn't shift at all.

"Hey, if I were you, I wouldn't waste my--" In the blink of an eye, Tim launched from a standing position, a blur in gray sweats.

Roy ducked to the right, grunting as Tim's foot smacked into his shoulder. He made a grab, but Tim evaded him, dancing back.

"Too slow, old man."

"Old man, huh?" Roy snapped a kick with his right foot.

Tim grabbed the foot and flipped Roy backward. he he landed on his back, Tim was there, jumping on top of him.

Roy was already in motion, rolling them, but his hand slipped in the sweat on Tim's arm. His elbow jammed into the mat and Tim took the opportunity to flip and pin him. Roy grinned up at him, testing the grip on his arms. He saw Tim's breathing change at his grin and laughed. "Okay, tough guy, now what?"

"This."

Roy tilted his head as Tim tried to devour his mouth. Warm, wet, pressure, who needed to breathe anyway?

Roy's heart was racing when Tim pulled back. "Now that I've got you where I want you," Tim began.

"But for how long?" Roy twisted his body, planting his feet to get enough leverage, tossing Tim across the floor.

They both jumped to their feet, Roy trying to forget how good the kiss had felt.

But it didn't work, the memory coming back at odd moments. Each time, he reminded himself of all the reasons a relationship couldn't work.

He waited for Tim to get tired of him, but it didn't happen. Lian frankly adored the newest addition to her large collection of aunts and uncles, and constantly asked when he was going to visit. Tim adored her in return. It was hard to tell who he smiled harder for, Lian or her daddy, and his patience with her moods and chatter was impressive. Tim shook his head whenever Roy commented on it, reminding him that some people actually *liked* children.

Watching Lian and Tim zigzag across a Brooklyn playground in an impromptu game of tag, Roy wondered what it would be like to have a lifetime of this. He stretched out on the grass, enjoying the sunlight on his skin and ignoring the giggling teenage girls on a nearby bench.

Laughing, his face red with exertion, Tim dropped onto the grass beside him, fanning his red tank top. "You know, I've gotten a better workout from your daughter than from last night's patrol."

"Slow night?"

Tim leaned forward, eyes bright. He was never sexier than when he was talking shop and the tank showed off his arms and shoulders quite satisfactorily. "Slow in a manner of speaking. I did all the groundwork on that murder-for-hire ring, right? Weeks of stakeouts and computer work?"

"Uh-huh, you were talking about it last week. What happened? Bats decide to take over?"

"Nightwing happened. Turns out the whole thing ties in with a case down in Bludhaven, but he had no idea we were on it, so he swoops in," Tim's hands flew through the air, "*right* into the middle and he's kicking ass left and right. I swear, even Batman was surprised."

"Now *that* I'd pay to see."

"So we're standing on that rooftop, just watching, and Dick's putting the smackdown on them. Even for him it was pretty impressive. By the time we jumped down, there was barely anyone left." Tim flopped back on the grass, grinning.

"Nightwing didn't leave you enough goons. My heart bleeds for you, El Freako Birdboy. Speaking of Gotham, when do you need to get back?"

Tim stretched out on the ground and Roy watched with appreciation. "Oh, I think I've got another hour before I have to leave. I've got to stop off in Bludhaven and drop off some new equipment."

"Nightwing gets all the cool toys from Batman. All I ever get from Ollie is trick arrows and bad advice."

Tim slapped his arm. "Hey, it could be worse. Ollie does a hell of a lot less glaring."

Roy laughed at a sudden image. "Hmm, can you see Ollie as Batman? God, he couldn't keep up the grim exterior for half an hour before he'd be throwing quips around."

"Scarier thought? Bruce as Green Arrow. Just imagine him with the beard."

Lian threw herself down between them. "What's so funny?" They only laughed harder at the pout on her face when they didn't answer.

A life of this didn't sound like a bad idea at all, Roy thought. He shook his head to dislodge the thought.

* * * * *

Another two weeks went by. Dinner got cancelled by reason of giant blue robots in New York. A Gotham Knights game never started due to an attack by Mr. Freeze.

Finally, they said to heck with it and arranged to meet at Tim's place to watch a movie. "I'm not ruling out the possibility," Roy said into the phone as he washed dishes, "that aliens might decide to invade your apartment, but at least we have a chance of spending some time together while they're invading. You take the thousand on the left and I'll take the thousand on the right?"

"Sounds good," Tim said. "I'll feed you if you bring a movie."

"I've gotta be home to tuck Lian into bed, so let's make it early. I'll get there at about 4, okay?" The phone started to slip and he grabbed it with a soapy hand, tucking it back between shoulder and cheek.

"Sounds good. I can't wait."

"Me neither."

There was a short silence. "Hey," Tim said, "I'd better go do some studying before I head out on patrol, or I'm going to flunk Shakespeare. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Give it a rest, you're incapable of flunking. Later, man."

He heard Tim take a breath. "Love you, Roy." And he hung up. The phone slipped, dropping with a splash into the sink, but Roy just stared at it.

Was he hallucinating? Granted, his previous hallucinations had always involved more pink elephants and fewer declarations of love, but there was always a first time.

Had Tim just...did Tim really...

Roy hung up the phone. This wasn't going the way he'd expected.

* * * * *

Roy showed up at Tim's apartment a little late, having uncharacteristically dithered about whether or not to go at all. When he couldn't find any good reason to cancel, he drove to Gotham, blasting the radio loud enough to drown out any inconvenient thoughts.

Jogging up the stairs to Tim's third floor apartment, the latest Jackie Chan flick under his arm, Roy found those thoughts coming back. What the hell did he think he was doing--

"Hey," Tim said with a grin, opening the door, "I was just wondering if you'd been called away to Burma or something." He stepped back into the tidy main space of the small apartment.

"No, nothing like that." Roy shrugged out of his coat and evaded a kiss as he hung it up in the tiny closet by the door.

A surprised-looking Tim took the movie and tossed it on the couch. "So, eat while we watch the movie?"

"Sure."

Habit stronger than any worrying, Roy followed Tim into the kitchen area--separated by a half-wall--to grab plates and such while Tim finished dinner. It shocked him a little to suddenly realize he knew this kitchen as well as he knew his own. Whether he was looking for a saucepan, a mug, or a spoon, it was nearly automatic to grab it.

He noticed Tim keeping an eye on him, but he couldn't figure out how to articulate what was wrong, so he talked about the happy ending of the Outsiders latest investigation until the movie started.

Once they'd finished slurping spaghetti and meatballs, Tim leaned over and Roy put his arm around him. It felt too good, too comfortable. Roy swallowed, unable to completely focus on the movie.

Tim laughed. "Oh man, that was probably the most fake punch *ever*. Did you see how far away his hand was?"

"Mm-hmm." He hadn't seen.

"And I know Robin's the acrobatic one, but if I wasted time in a fight doing that particular backflip, Batman'd have me grounded for a week. Well, maybe Dick could get away with it."

"Yeah."

Tim glanced over at him, but didn't comment, just nuzzled against his shoulder. Apparently he'd decided to let Roy tell him what was wrong when he was ready.

After a few more fight scenes, order was restored and Jackie's character rode happily off into the sunset. The credits rolled and Tim tilted his head to look at him.

Roy looked away from the shrewd eyes and Tim leaned up to kiss his cheek. Turning, Roy captured his lips, pushing back his doubts long enough for a long, very sloppy kiss.

Tim grinned into it, turning on the couch so they were facing each other more directly. The next kiss was deeper, and Roy had to pull back to take a breath, listening to Tim's heart pound.

Tim leaned forward but Roy pushed on his chest. "Wait."

"Hmm?" Tim glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's early yet."

"I know, but I really should go home. Lian and Ron are probably there already and I remembered I promised to help Lian with her homework." He was babbling again, damn it. Roy hated when he did that.

Tim's expression was analytical. "Sure," he said, "if you promised, that's important."

"I'm sorry. I just...I need to go."

"Okay." Tim caressed his face so quickly it was like he'd imagined it. "I'll see you later."

"Later."

* * * * *

From: birdguy@tt.secure.net
To: arsenal@out.secure.net
Subject: Tuesday

I'm free after my last final. Dinner in the city? - T

From: arsenal@out.secure.net
To: birdguy@tt.secure.net
Subject: Re: Tuesday

I can't. Another time. - R

Roy hit send, then stared at the computer, uncertain why he'd said that. Nothing was scheduled for that evening. Well, time with Lian, but he could have brought her along. Tim was always thrilled to see her. He...

Shaking his head, Roy resumed his statistical analyses of metahuman prison escapes. He was no Batman, but he had a theory about who was providing outside assistance and it might be time to nip that in the bud.

From: birdguy@tt.secure.net
To: arsenal@out.secure.net
Subject: Re: Tuesday

Okay, how about Friday? Bruce is going to be out of town and you can work out with me in the Cave. You know you love making fun of D's old costume. - T

From: arsenal@out.secure.net
To: birdguy@tt.secure.net
Subject: Re: Tuesday

I doubt it. I'll give you a call when I'm free. - R

Annoyed at being pushed, Roy hit send.

* * * * *

A week passed. Lian asked where Uncle Tim was. A second week passed. Ron pointedly asked his plans. Roy fobbed them off with distractions.

"You need to get laid," Grace said to him after a training session, eyeing him with that knowing grin as she sauntered into the weapons room.

"Fuck off, Grace." He went back to inspecting a gun without bothering to look at her.

"C'mon, I know the signs. You get edgy, grumpy--"

"I'm not grumpy!"

Grace smirked, leaning across the table. "Uh-huh. You just keep telling yourself that, honey. Hey, you know where to find me if that's what you want."

Roy picked up a rag and scrubbed at a spot of excess oil. "I'm fine. Touched by your concern, of course."

"If you're still hung up on Nightwing, that's fine, but if you get any more high-strung, we're gonna have mutinies. I swear it's worse than after you got shot."

Gritting his teeth, Roy put down the gun. "I'm not hung up on Nightwing. And I'm not going to fuck you to prove it, so go bother someone else."

"Fine." Grace shrugged, muscles rippling as she strolled out the door.

"Good riddance," he muttered as he went back to cleaning. "I'm not edgy," he said aloud, scowling at the gun. "Where does she get off saying that?"

Okay, he was having some trouble with focus. And he'd nearly sprained his ankle jumping off a platform. But that was just because he wasn't sleeping well.

Which had nothing to do with...anything. And the sooner he stopped thinking about...anyone, the sooner everything would go back to normal.

He picked up the next weapon, determined to get on with things. Before he could start cleaning, the door opened. Roy didn't move as a costumed Robin stepped in, face set and grim. They stared at each other.

It wasn't Tim who broke the impasse by stalking over, it was Robin--every line of his body angry as he came to stand in front of the table. "Just out of curiosity, *Arsenal*, can I ask what crawled up your ass and died?"

"Since you're not a member of the Outsiders, *Robin*, what the fuck business is it of yours?"

Robin snorted and--through some intangible process Roy couldn't define--became Tim. "Well, that answers *that* question."

"What?"

"I was wondering if you were being an asshole or if it was my imagination."

"I'm trying to work, kid. Go home and we'll talk later."

Tim shook his head once. "Kid? Someone in this room is being immature, and here's a hint: It's not me. Now, we can do this the hard way, where I kick your ass until you tell me what's wrong, or...no, there's only the hard way."

"What are you talking about?" Roy couldn't look at him, so he went back to cleaning the gun, only to have it knocked out of his hand by a batarang. "What the fuck?"

"What am I talking about?" Tim glared. "Well, a couple of weeks ago we were making out on my couch and suddenly, you're avoiding me."

"Maybe I just got tired of dating a kid." He stood up, stepping back from the table.

The remark got Roy the clenched jaw he'd expected and he felt a twinge in his chest. To his surprise, Tim shook his head, looking amused. "You are *so* full of crap," he said. "I'd expect this kind of behavior from high school kids, not you."

"I'm sorry I led you on, but this...thing isn't going to work."

"If you just wanted to end our relationship, you'd have said so. Something's bugging you and I'd be a hell of a friend if I walked away now."

Roy couldn't stand the sympathy. "Didn't you hear me? Get lost!"

Tim shook his head. "I'm not leaving until I believe it's really what you want. Don't think you can make me leave by being rude--I've worked with Batman for years. Trust me, he's the master at this passive-aggressive crap. You're just a rank amateur."

Roy held his ground as Tim stepped closer and peered at him. "Comparing me to Batman," Roy said, clenching his fists. "That's just low."

Tim ignored that, watching him as if he might make a run for it. "I get that you're trying to push me away. You're scared because of what I said on the phone, right? What I don't get is *why*."

"I'm not scared," Roy growled, crossing his arms and then uncrossing them when he realized how defensive that looked.

Tilting his head, Tim's expression turned thoughtful, as if he'd been presented with an interesting puzzle. "Well, you're not scared of Nightwing or Batman. So, it's more subtle than that."

"Thank you, Dr. Freud. Shall I talk about my mother now?"

Tim took a deep breath. "Oh. I guess I should have realized."

Roy couldn't respond. Damn, he hated dealing with the Batclan.

"Roy," Tim hesitated, then stepped closer. "I'm not going to leave unless you really want me to. I'm going to do my best to stay alive. I'm not going to get bored with you. I'm not Cheshire or your parents or Brave Bow or Ollie."

"I didn't say you were. Don't try and psychoanalyze me, damn it!"

"I've gotten attached to you. You're smart, sexy, funny, and your daughter's the cutest thing I've ever seen." Tim came closer, moving like he was approaching a wild animal. "I'm not going anywhere. I told you I'm not experimenting and I meant it. I'm not using you."

For a moment, Roy couldn't catch his breath, couldn't find the words. "Why me?"

Tim sighed. "The reasons I just gave are as close as I get. I wa--" Tim stopped, eyes narrowing. "You figured I was in this for the sex."

"Maybe. You're eighteen."

"Jesus, Roy!" Tim stood absolutely still, vibrating with annoyance. "I didn't fall off the apple cart yesterday. I'm in *college*! Do you think I couldn't have found somebody to have sex with, if that's all I wanted?"

"Why haven't you?"

"Because, newsflash, you idiot, I want *you*! I'm sorry we pushed too hard to begin with, and I'll wait as long as I have to in order to let you be comfortable with my age, but I'm not going to wait because you've got some half-assed idea that I'm going to dump you for a shiny college student."

Roy closed his eyes and really thought about what Tim was saying. He was right, he'd been pushing Tim away because he was scared he was going to leave him. Damn, he really *did* hate dealing with the Batclan and their near-psychic ability to read people. "I..."

"Roy, listen to me." Tim was within touching distance now. "I love you. I don't say that lightly."

"Come home with me," Roy said.

Tim blinked several times. "I'm supposed to patrol tonight."

"Tell the big guy you're busy. Tell him to go stuff it. I don't care. Come home with me tonight."

Roy watched Tim's breathing go shallow, then leaned over, taking him in his arms. He was tired of being noble. Noble could go to hell and take common sense with it.

When Tim's arms slid around him, it was the strangest thing, like a key in a lock, the feeling that all was right with the world. When their lips touched, nothing mattered except Tim's tongue, pulling Tim closer, showing Tim just how much he'd missed him, wanted him, cared about him.

Without speaking, Tim broke the kiss and slipped a communicator from his sleeve. Eyes never leaving Roy's face, he dialed by touch. "Bruce? It's Tim. I can't make it this evening, something's come up. Uh-huh." Tim started to grin but kept his voice steady. "Yeah, everything's fine. Call if there's an emergency. Mm-hmm. Bye."

Tim slipped the communicator back in its pocket.

"Ready?" Roy asked.

"More than ready."

They made it out of Outsiders HQ without running into anyone, which Roy could only consider a blessing from whatever deity or deities watched over him. It was torture getting into his car and letting Tim ride the Redbird away, but secret identities demanded Tim change out of his uniform elsewhere.

Waiting outside his apartment building, Roy peered into the night and wondered what he'd do if Tim didn't arrive. Fortunately, it was only five minutes before the cycle roared up, Tim's face flushed under the streetlights as he jumped off.

Roy went up the steps first, conscious of Tim's eyes burning into his back the entire time. He wanted to throw him down in the middle of the living room and momentarily cursed the complicated life that didn't allow that.

As Roy opened the locks, he took several deep breaths, steadfastly not looking at Tim. Ron was just turning out the lights and heading toward his own room as they came in.

"A good evening to both of you," he said, not even pausing on his way to his bedroom. "Lian fell asleep some time ago."

Roy and Tim stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other, until Roy stepped forward. "We can't exactly be as noisy as I'd like," he said. "Maybe we should have gone to your place. I don't think I've thought this through."

"I think there's been entirely too much thinking." Tim's voice sounded hoarse.

"Bedroom?"

"Probably wise."

Roy waved Tim in, shutting the door behind them and locking it. That act seemed to destroy the last of his patience and, within moments, he was ruthlessly stripping Tim's clothing away, pausing only to suck or kiss various body parts and listen for the gasps.

Roy never remembered exactly how it worked, but they fell onto the bed, stripping out of clothing while trying to keep as much contact as possible. He kissed and licked every available bit of skin.

The room was lit only by moonlight coming through the window, and Roy let go long enough to grope with one hand for his bedside lamp, wanting to *see* Tim, make sure there could be no misunderstandings.

Tim crawled on top of him and Roy guided his hands, encouraging him with moans and whispered words. "Whatever you want," he said as Tim's hands set him on fire. He bucked up as Tim took him at his word. "Oh yeah," he breathed.

Tim's muscles felt incredible under his hands--Roy couldn't get enough of him, rubbing, caressing, massaging everything he could reach. At this rate, neither of them was going to last very long.

"Do you want to be in control?" Roy managed to ask, holding Tim's shoulders and trying to catch his attention.

"I don't know," Tim whispered against his chest, licking a stripe from one nipple to the other, making every nerve ending sing.

"Maybe next time," Roy said, rolling them both over. "I'm tired of waiting."

"Good." The word dissolved into a moan as Roy rubbed their bodies together, skin sliding and hairs tickling as Roy slid down Tim's belly.

Roy licked everything he could reach, holding Tim down as he shuddered, tasting salt and soap. Tim's hands tried to grab at his hair, but slid right through the buzz cut as Roy nuzzled his way across Tim's firm stomach.

He glanced up, surprised when he saw Tim's eyes open and looking at him. For a long moment, they lay still, staring at each other. God, was he just making the same mistake again?

"No thinking, remember?" Tim touched his cheek.

Roy pulled himself back up the bed and into a long tongue-tangling kiss, lust tempered by a desire to get it right this time. A warm hand stroked his back, calluses tickling as fingers skated down his spine. Roy grinned into the kiss, then pulled away. Tim's breathing was unsteady, his soft hair disarranged, eyes wide, and Roy licked a slow circle around his ear, just to listen to the whimper.

Tim's hand moved lower, grabbing his ass and pulling him close.

"Mmm," Roy moaned, rocking against him. Hair and muscle and skin and god, waiting any longer really would kill him. "Mine," he whispered, sliding down the bed to nose through musky hair, deliberately brushing his lips across the head of Tim's dick.

"Yours," Tim gasped. "Definitely yours."

A lick made Tim squirm and Roy grinned up at him. "If you can still talk, I must not be doing this right."

"I think you're--oh--doing fine." Tim shook under his hands.

Another long lick and Tim's whine echoed in the room, followed by panting. Roy stroked up Tim's thighs, enjoying the feel of coarse hair and hard muscle, letting Tim relax for the moment. He let one hand gently rub at a thigh while the other wandered up toward Tim's mouth. Tim didn't need a hint, grabbing Roy's hand and sucking on his fingers.

Roy sucked in the head of Tim's dick, feeling Tim's half-scream around his fingers. His world dissolved into sensation and pleasure, as he focused in on the taste and feel.

* * * * *