SquidgeWorld Archive

"Make me feel again," Tim begs, a soft, sad little whisper of a whimper. And Kon can only comply. He strips Tim of his clothing, using his hands, not his telekinesis; Tim needs the actual contact to be tactile, and if Kon were to be frank, he can never get enough of Tim's skin. Even if it is covered in more bruises than scars, for the fifth time in forever. Kon cradles Tim in his arms, and holds him close as he kisses him deeply, wetly. Tim gasps around Kon's lips and clings tighter to him, and all the while Kon's pushing him back towards the bed, pressing him down into the threadbare, rumpled sheets. Until all of a sudden, they're skin to skin, arms and legs twining together on the too-small bed in the too-dark room of Tim's too-empty apartment. And despite the fact that they're naked and wrapped around each other, they're still too far apart. Tim wants to feel, Kon wants to help him feel...but Tim won't let himself. Feeling hurts. Hurting isn't always bad. Kon's going to show him. A quick flip and Tim's sprawled on his stomach, and Kon can only imagine the split-second, not-quite blink of surprise as Tim suddenly finds himself in that position. He hauls Tim up onto his knees, spreads him and, in lieu of lube, licks Tim open. Tim's gasps echo in Kon's ears as he laves him with obscenely wet kisses. When Tim is shaking and shivering with the effort of keeping himself from thrusting back, Kon stops, and before Tim can even start to beg, slides inside him, slowly, letting Tim feel each and every inch. It burns him, of course - burns them both, because Kon always lets down his aura when they're together, because he can feel Tim more that way - but that's the point. The burn and the stretch of the way they fit together shows Tim that feeling good is subjective. And something that he can always feel with Kon, even if it hurts. Because it hurts. Tim's hurting. But he isn't broken, and he isn't fragile. He just feels like he is. Kon's going to make him feel differently. Tim's hands are clenched knuckle-white tight around the rungs of the headboard, and he's crooning out choked moans and wordless pleas. Kon's fingers hold onto Tim's hips bruisingly tight, moving Tim back and forth on him, making Tim feel. Tim's whimpers get more desperate, and his orgasm has been too long delayed when he spreads his own knees, settling down just low enough to change the angle. And Tim screams. Heart-pounding, soul-shattering, mind-numbing and body-freeing. The intensity of the physical finally shocking him into letting his emotions out. Finally letting himself feel everything; the hurt and the pain, and the pleasure and the ecstasy. The good, the bad...the love. Tim crumples onto the bed, Kon collapsing next to him. Tears seep from his closed eyes, and Kon just holds him tight, too hard and not close enough. And when Tim looks at him through a curtain of shaggy, sweat-drenched hair, eyes revealed, but expression hidden. And it's nothing like, 'Thank you,' and everything like, 'I need you so much, please don't leave me like everyone else.' And Kon can only comply.