There's a moment when he thinks Tim's asleep and dreaming something terrible - the way his face pushes suddenly close, into the crook of Dick's shoulder, the way his fingers clutch and dig into Dick's arm, he doesn't think it's anything Tim would ever do awake. Then, listening into the pitch darkness, trying to convince his body that yes, his eyes are open, he hears the way Tim's breathing, harsh, wary, awake. Afraid.
"Hey," he whispers, groping clumsily out, managing to catch at Tim's hand - left hand, his thumb sliding over the freezing palm. Tim can't sleep in the gauntlets, they leave his hands too stiff. At least that means that Dick's touching him somewhere, touching skin.
He presses down, rubs gently, careful, feeling his way, trying to focus in on Tim with his fingertips over Tim's pulse and his mouth brushing Tim's temple and his breath slowing in his chest so that he can hear Tim's breathing hitch, and slow, and hitch again. "Hey," he says again, and he can't see to ruffle Tim's hair or check his pupils so, somehow, because it makes sense in the dark, he finds himself kissing Tim's ear instead.
Tim's breath leaves him in a shivering rush; but he's pushing up into the touch and Dick tells the part of his brain that's trying to construct words and questions and worries to shut up and goes with what his hands want, which is to draw Tim in, closer, fumble up over his jaw, and then tilt his face up. It's slow, dreamlike and strange, kissing Tim, Tim kissing him and feeling shocking heat pool under his palms - Tim, Tim's blushing and he can't - he has to taste it instead. Tim makes a quiet sound when Dick licks his cheek and mouths over his jaw and then bites his lip, turns his head to bite at Dick's. There's heat radiating off him, dizzying, extravagant, flooding the narrow patch of air between them, both of their backs turned to the cold. Dick feels himself smiling, astonishingly, unexpectedly, and then Tim laughs - small and bitten-off, but real.
"Hey," he says, in his dry little Tim-voice, and Dick means to lean in and kiss him again for the steadiness of it, for the lingering trace of laughter, when Tim cautiously touches his inner thigh and he inhales hard instead, can't move.
"Yeah," he says into the warm, watchful dark, "Tim," and there's a shuffle of blankets, and then Tim's mouth - Tim's mouth, and Dick squeezes his eyes shut and sees nothing but colour, gold and green and red and blue, all swirling and shifting and dissolving the black.
*
Not much porn there, but I would love to see anything you'd like to write about any of the Firefly characters.
I'm so very rusty, but
There's a moment when he thinks Tim's asleep and dreaming something terrible - the way his face pushes suddenly close, into the crook of Dick's shoulder, the way his fingers clutch and dig into Dick's arm, he doesn't think it's anything Tim would ever do awake. Then, listening into the pitch darkness, trying to convince his body that yes, his eyes are open, he hears the way Tim's breathing, harsh, wary, awake. Afraid.
"Hey," he whispers, groping clumsily out, managing to catch at Tim's hand - left hand, his thumb sliding over the freezing palm. Tim can't sleep in the gauntlets, they leave his hands too stiff. At least that means that Dick's touching him somewhere, touching skin.
He presses down, rubs gently, careful, feeling his way, trying to focus in on Tim with his fingertips over Tim's pulse and his mouth brushing Tim's temple and his breath slowing in his chest so that he can hear Tim's breathing hitch, and slow, and hitch again. "Hey," he says again, and he can't see to ruffle Tim's hair or check his pupils so, somehow, because it makes sense in the dark, he finds himself kissing Tim's ear instead.
Tim's breath leaves him in a shivering rush; but he's pushing up into the touch and Dick tells the part of his brain that's trying to construct words and questions and worries to shut up and goes with what his hands want, which is to draw Tim in, closer, fumble up over his jaw, and then tilt his face up. It's slow, dreamlike and strange, kissing Tim, Tim kissing him and feeling shocking heat pool under his palms - Tim, Tim's blushing and he can't - he has to taste it instead. Tim makes a quiet sound when Dick licks his cheek and mouths over his jaw and then bites his lip, turns his head to bite at Dick's. There's heat radiating off him, dizzying, extravagant, flooding the narrow patch of air between them, both of their backs turned to the cold. Dick feels himself smiling, astonishingly, unexpectedly, and then Tim laughs - small and bitten-off, but real.
"Hey," he says, in his dry little Tim-voice, and Dick means to lean in and kiss him again for the steadiness of it, for the lingering trace of laughter, when Tim cautiously touches his inner thigh and he inhales hard instead, can't move.
"Yeah," he says into the warm, watchful dark, "Tim," and there's a shuffle of blankets, and then Tim's mouth - Tim's mouth, and Dick squeezes his eyes shut and sees nothing but colour, gold and green and red and blue, all swirling and shifting and dissolving the black.
*
Not much porn there, but I would love to see anything you'd like to write about any of the Firefly characters.