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Dick noticed the smell of sex lingering in his bathroom when he got up that morning with a sharp little shock of a thrill that made him tighten his hand around his morning wood. It shouldn't have been such a surprise; Tim was a teenager, so of course he jerked off. Dick hadn't expected first-hand confirmation of that, though.
When he'd passed through the living room, Tim had still been asleep on Dick's couch, pillow over his head to block out the light. At some point during the night, he'd come in here to wank himself to sleep. Maybe he did it every night, under his covers and safe in his own bed; Wally used to, when they were that age. Dick had certainly gone to bed with that intention most nights, only to be cock-blocked by exhaustion.
It was good that Tim was comfortable enough with him to do that here, even if he had hidden in the bathroom to do it. That made Dick happy for entirely unperverted reasons.
Those weren't the only reasons, though. Dick closed the toilet and sat down, skinning his shirt off and opening the hamper in front of him. There was a wash-rag in the bin that hadn't been there when he undressed for bed. It was still damp, when his fingers brushed it, so he pulled it out and held it to his face, curious.
Tim's scent was deep and rich, almost a taste on the back of his tongue. Dick licked his lips and reached into his sweatpants before he could stop and think about what he was doing, squeezing and stroking as he pressed the cloth to his lips.
He noticed the scent again that night, as he was dressing to go out. Tim was changing in Dick's bedroom, so Dick was sitting on the couch, getting his boots and gloves and mask in order. At first he thought he was smelling the couch where Tim had slept, and he picked up the blanket that had been folded over the arm and pressed it to his face. Nothing. Dick set the blanket aside and tried to take mental stock of the situation.
God, he was such a perv, sniffing around after a boy almost a decade younger than him. Dick was pretty sure it wasn't his fault he always ended up attracted to the people he cared about, but he could acknowledge, at least, that it probably wasn't normal.
The thought made Dick sigh and run his hand back through his hair - or start to, anyway, because when he brought his gloved hand up to touch his temple, the scent suddenly intensified. His eyes widened in surprise, and he jerked his hand back to look at it. The glove looked normal. He sniffed it.
Oh god. Dick's mind flashed, suddenly, to the moment he'd opened the compartment that held his uniform. He'd thought, then, that something had seemed slightly off about how it had been placed. He'd chalked it up to the fact he'd been talking to Tim while he put it away, but now...
Dick sniffed the glove again.
"Do you have a-" Tim started, from the doorway, and then broke off and went silent. Dick's head whipped around and they stared at each other for a long moment. Tim's face was tight, his jaw locked, eyes carefully devoid of emotion but tense around the corners. As the staring contest dragged on, color started to rise high on his cheeks. Dick had never seen him blush before, and it was startlingly appealing.
There was no way Tim didn't realize what Dick had found out - his gloved hand had been pressed over his mouth and nose when the boy walked in, his eyes closed as he breathed deeply. Apparently Tim wasn't going to say anything, though. Dick couldn't blame him, really. What *did* you say to a friend whose clothes you'd been jacking off with?
For that matter, what did you say to the boy whose scent was making you unfit to fight crime in a skin-tight uniform? It was almost certainly going to be up to Dick to break the silence, but he had no idea what to say. The moment stretched on and on, neither of them blinking.
He tried to think it through rationally, as difficult as that was with the scent still in his nostrils and the way Tim was holding himself tense as steel. At some point, after Dick had gone to bed last night, Tim had crept into the bedroom, into his closet, disabled the alarm, and removed his costume - or maybe just parts of his costume. He'd taken it into the bathroom. He'd masturbated. Maybe he'd just rubbed against the material, maybe put the glove on and touched himself.
The mental image was powerful. Dick didn't realize he was licking his lips until he saw the minute widening of Tim's eyes, the sudden increase in color in his cheeks.
It was possible he just had a Kevlar fetish. He certainly wouldn't be the first Dick had ever run across. But...Tim had his own Kevlar gloves. He'd apparently gone to great lengths to borrow Dick's. That had to mean something.
Tim was starting to look kind of pained, so he needed to do something, before the poor kid gave himself a heart attack, but Dick still didn't know what to say. He finally gave up and just went with his instinct for the physical, opening his mouth and sliding two fingers inside to the second knuckle.
Tim gasped and slumped back against the door-frame as if his strings had been cut, his eyes wide and suddenly dark. Okay, Dick thought, obviously that was the right thing to do. He sucked his fingers, letting his cheeks hollow as he pulled them from his mouth and dragged against his lip. There wasn't anything to taste - Tim had cleaned the gloves before he put them away, he guessed. It was only the scent that still lingered.
Dick kissed his fingertips and then pulled off the glove, one finger at a time. He held it up between them for a few seconds and then tossed it over to Tim, who caught it instinctively and then looked like he wanted to drop it. "Put it on."
"But-" Tim looked torn. He stared at the glove, at Dick, back at the glove. "Dick." It sounded like a question.
"Do you just like how they feel?" Dick asked. He reached across the couch to where his other glove sat, neatly folded on top of his boots. "Was it just the gloves? Did you put on the boots? Tights?" A thought flashed through his mind, and Dick felt his own skin flush with sudden heat. "Jock?"
Tim made a small sound low in his throat. "Just-just the gloves. Dick."
"Come here," Dick said, holding out his hand. He pushed his boots onto the floor. Tim didn't move at first, so Dick said it again. "Come here."
"I didn't-" Tim started to say as he stepped away from the doorway, but he broke off, so Dick wasn't sure what he meant to say. "Dick. Are...are you mad?"
Maybe, if by 'mad' Tim meant 'crazy'. "Come here." He repeated. When Tim was close enough, Dick reached out and caught him with one hand around his wrist, the other on his waist, pulling him down to sit on the couch. He took the glove from Tim's unresisting hand and opened it, holding Tim's wrist as he slid the glove onto him, carefully guiding his fingers into place, then lifted his other hand and repeated the process.
"What are you doing?" Tim asked, and then broke off with a gasp when Dick leaned forward and sucked his thumb into his mouth. "Oh," he said, a moment later. "You, um. I guess you don't mind then."
Dick shook his head without opening his mouth, and then shifted until he could take Tim's thumb all the way down, until his nose was pressed to Tim's palm. He scraped with his teeth as he pulled away again, still holding Tim by the wrist, and guided Tim's other hand down to cup him through his tights. "Okay?" he asked.
"Oh god," Tim breathed. His hand spasmed under Dick's, tightening and then releasing. "I can't - I can't feel you. Let me take it off."
"I don't know," Dick said, "I kind of like the look of it." He thrust up against Tim's hand, feeling the rasp of armor against armor, watching the blue against the black. "Like you in my clothes. I like seeing you in my uniform," he added, reaching out and stroking up Tim's leg. "Like you better in the shorts."
"The shorts make me look twelve," Tim protested, even as he let his hand be molded to the shape of Dick's erection, all without tearing his eyes away from the sight.
"Are you calling me a pervert?" Dick said, laughing. Before Tim could answer, Dick leaned down and pressed his lips to Tim's. Tim gasped against his mouth and gave a shuddering moan as his free hand came up to lightly touch Dick's shoulder. "I kinda am," Dick confessed in a whisper. "I jerked off this morning, thinking about you."
Tim groaned loudly and slid his hand up Dick's neck into his hair, pulling him into a deeper, wilder kiss, their teeth clacking together. His grip on Dick's erection shifted into a clumsy, frustrating stroke through two layers of Kevlar. Dick pulled his hand away after a moment and broke the kiss despite Tim's protests, standing to skin out of his uniform.
"I could smell you," he said, in a rush. "You weren't even awake, but I knew you'd been in there, knew you'd been touching yourself." He pulled his jock down and away with care, let it fall down his legs and stepped out of it to kneel up on the couch, leaning over Tim and forcing him back against the cushions. "If I'd known you'd been thinking of me..." He rucked Tim's shirt up over his stomach, until he could see how hard the boy was under his tights. "I'd have woke you up. Maybe used my mouth..."
The look on Tim's face was wild, somewhere between fear and fascination, but when Dick slid down his body to kneel naked on the floor, he shivered all over. When Dick tucked his fingers into Tim's waistband and tugged, Tim braced his feet on either side of Dick's knees and arched up, lifting his hips to help Dick undress him. When Dick bent his head and pressed his mouth and nose into the hair above Tim's rising cock, Tim's gloved palms slid up Dick's arms to his shoulders, his neck, and finally cupped the back of his head. "Oh, god," he breathed. "Are you really gonna-"
Dick nuzzled him, rubbed his face against Tim's erection, kissed the base and nosed at his balls. "You smell so good," he murmured. "Been thinking about sucking you, all day."
"Fuck," Tim gasped. It was the first time Dick had ever heard him curse. The sound of it made Dick grin, pressing the flats of his teeth dangerously against Tim's balls. That earned him a high whine, followed by a sob. "Dick."
"This is what you want?" Dick asked. He tried to be good, tried to wait for an answer, but there was just too much temptation. He cupped Tim's balls in his hand, stroking with his fingertips and squeezing lightly. "Tell me."
"Yes!" Tim gasped, and the fingers in Dick's hair tightened almost to the point of pain. "Oh god, please. Dick!"
That was good enough. Dick licked a stripe up his shaft and then swallowed him down, as deep as he could. The taste of him was overwhelming, heady and rich, filling his nose and making his mouth water. He squeezed Tim's balls in his palm, squeezed his own erection with his other hand, felt, with a sharp rush of pleasure, the tension in Tim's sack as he thrust up, arching off the couch.
Dick swallowed him down, stroking with his tongue as Tim shuddered under him, until the boy was sobbing and pounding on his shoulder with a fist. He pulled off and looked up at him. Tim's eyes were squeezed tight shut, his head thrown back, his lashes damp and matted against his cheek. He looked absolutely beautiful, absolutely broken, and Dick closed his eyes against the sight, pressing his face to Tim's shaking thigh as he pumped into his own fist, groaning through his own orgasm and absolutely ruining his rug.
When he'd caught his breath, he kissed the skin under his cheek and then licked a stripe up it before lifting his head. Tim's eyes were nearly closed, just a dark glint from under heavy lids. He was looking down at Dick with something like religious awe. Dick smiled back, somewhat weakly.
"After patrol," he said, his throat rough from use, "you can tell me what you were doing in my bathroom this morning. What you were thinking about."
Tim looked away, licking his lips and then biting them. "You," he said, quietly. "Your hands. Just...you."
Dick's grin broadened. "Yeah?" He arched his neck as Tim's fingers ran gently through his hair, pressing his forehead against Tim's thigh. Tim's gloved fingers stroked across his cheek, and Dick turned to kiss them. He sat up a moment later and caught Tim's hand, pulling the glove off so that he could kiss the damp hollow of his palm.