Title: Caught in the Act

Author: Stranj100

Fandom: Teen Titans comic

Pairing: Superboy/Tim

Rating: R (sex, language)

Summary: Kon and Tim are caught in the act

Warnings: Possible spoilers for Robin and Teen Titans

Disclaimer: Tim Drake, Superboy, and all related characters are property of Time-Warner unless otherwise stated. The story is intellectual property of the author known as Stranj100.

Archive: Yes, just ask first.

Feedback: Praise strokes my ego and I write more. Helpful Criticism makes me a better writer. Flames are used by ignorant villagers to destroy 'monsters'.

Notes: sequel to "When robins don't fly"

Caught in the Act

Part 1

"Indecent Exposure"

By

Stranj100

Tim and I lay together on his bed in his room, it was our own private universe contained by four walls. No one else existed, but us. I found myself trapped by the intense gaze of his blue eyes, a sight I only saw once when he was Robin. They're something I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing.

The feeling of being buried hilt deep within the silky heat of Tim, for the first time, with his legs resting on my shoulders was intense. We rocked our bodies together in a rhythm that was all our own, both of us letting out gasp and moan of pleasure. Each time I pulled back and plunged back into Tim brought us one-step closer to heaven.

We were so wrapped up in each other, we never heard the bedroom door open, but we did hear someone exclaim, "What in the Hell!?!"

We both went instinctually still, like two rabbits trying to escape the notice of a predator. I couldn't see the door behind me, but I could see Tim's face, which was currently filled capacity with surprise. His face quickly began turning bright red with embarrassment. His mouth was opening and closing as if to say something, but it wouldn't come out. Finally, he spit out, "Dad..." Whatever he was going to say died in his throat.

Gathering my courage, I reluctantly turned my head to look behind me. I saw Mr. Drake standing in the doorway his face twisted in anger. It was redder than Tim's with his lips peeled back, baring clenched teeth, a blood vessel on his forehead stood out throbbing.

It was probably the scariest thing I've ever seen, scarier than even the hordes of Apokolips. It made me immediately pull away from Tim. This caused Tim wince and give out a small pained noise. In my panic, I didn't even think to say I was sorry. I just jumped of the bed and began to scramble trying to pick up my clothes from the floor. While my hard-on flailed about blissfully unaware of how much deep shit we were in, while Mr. Drake just watched us with a deadly look. For once in my short, getting even shorter, life, I cursed being so well hung.

A feminine voice called from down the hall, "Jack, what are you yelling about?"

The voice belonged to Dana, Tim's step-mom. As she appeared behind Mr. Drake she look into the room and saw the two of us, all she simply said was, "Oh, my!"

"Both of you come to the living room as soon as you're dressed," Mr. Drake commanded sternly, before he turned and stormed down the hall passing his wife.

Dana watched her husband go. Then she looked back at as I stood there holding my clothes trying and failing miserably to cover as much of my naked body as possible. She glanced over at Tim, who still sat on the bed with only a thin bed-sheet covering his waist—with his hard-on still very obvious. She pursed her lips, as if she were going to say something, but instead she shook her head and quietly closed the door.

I listened to her walk down the hall and into the living room, where Mr. Drake was cursing. "Damn, punk screwing my little boy. I should carve his heart out with a spoon and string his intestines out like party decorations."

"If you're through giving into your inner psychopath, I suggest you calm down," Dana told him in a calm voice.

"I am calm!"

"No, you're not. You are sitting here thinking of ways to kill a boy you don't even know."

"I should kill the little bastard for seducing my little boy!"

"First of all, Tim is hardly a little boy. If you actually looked at him in there that fact is blatantly clear. That other boy in there is probably no older than Tim, so..."

"That son of a bitch is no boy! Did you see him?"

"Yes, but no matter what his body looks like, he's probably no more experienced than Tim. I think what was going on is more about teenage hormones, than seduction."

"That makes it alright?"

Irritation was rising in Dana's voice. "No, just normal. We don't want to alienate Tim, so calm yourself and stop cursing. You're supposed to be the adult here. Now act like it. The boys will be out here any minute. I'm going to make us..."

I was so concentrated on the conversation in the living room that when Tim touched me on the shoulder I nearly jumped out of my skin and dropped all my clothes on the floor. Tim stood next to me still very naked giving me an intense look.

"Did you hear anything useful?"

The question made me smile. That was so Robin of him—gathering info, making plans. "Nothing really, just your dad thinking of creative ways to kill me, very medieval. Dana was trying to calm him down and make him think rationally. I didn't seem to be working and she was getting frustrated"

"Well it sounds like we might have at least one ally. I don't think we shouldn't tell them that you're Superboy. Dana still doesn't know that I was Robin and Dad would probably freak if he knew my boyfriend is a superhero."

"Boyfriend?" I said, my heart skipping a beat.

Tim blinked at my quizzically with those blues eyes I'm addicted to. "Of course boyfriend, I wouldn't have gone all the way otherwise."

I had the sudden urge to throw my newly declared boyfriend to the floor and do nasty things to him, but that is what got us into this mess in the first place. I decided to act the adult and ask, "We've done hand jobs and blow jobs before. What's different now?"

"Things were more complicated then. They aren't now and I know you're the one thing I refuse to give up..." The silence spoke of his frustration and need. I went over and hugged him—trying my best to comfort him. He rested his head against my chest and we stood there for a long moment, before he sighed then said, "You better get dressed. We've wasted enough time," turning to his dresser.

I was dressed in under three seconds. Tim talked to me while he rustled through the drawers, but zoned out as I stared at his still very naked backside. In the few months, since he quit being Robin his muscles had lost some of their hardness and tone, but they were still very nice. I was hypnotized as the muscles rippled under his scar covered skin. Yeah, scars are sexy. Oh, did I mention he was still very naked. He was so naked my jeans began to tighten and I had to adjust myself. My hand never left my crotch, because I unconsciously began to massage my package. I was still massaging it when Tim turned around and showed me my favorite part of his anatomy. There it sat with a nearly hairless sack, nestled amongst a neat patch of black hair. I wonder if he trims them, that's how neat they are. What do they call it on Queer Eye? Oh, yeah—manscaping.

"Are you even listening to me?" Uh, oh, busted, again. I manage to tear my eyes away from his body long enough to meet his very angry blue ones. My mind raced to think of something to say. It was coming up with whole lot nothing.

Impulsively I put on my best shit-eating grin and say the first thing that comes into my head. "I can't help it. You're so damn sexy it's distracting. Maybe should go out there like that and distract your parents, so I can slip-out the window unnoticed."

"And then I can watch my dad hunt you down and skin you alive without the help of kryptonite," Tim said in a sarcastic voice, while a look I think was love filled his eyes.

I think it love; because it's the same look Uncle Jon and Aunt Martha give each other. Eewww, random images of them naked pop into my head. The images psychologically scared for life and helped to kill the perpetual hard-on I'd been sporting. Why'd my brain pick them, why not Lois and Clark? The Clark angle still gross with him being the dad type person, but Lois. Lois is totally the hot M.I.L.F. type step-mom; like Dana. Hmm, Lois and Dana. That revives my Amazonian slumber party fantasy.

"Oww, that hurts!" It was Tim, now dressed in a black pair of dress pants and a polo shirt, digging his fingers into the muscles in my arm. It must be some sort of bat-pressure point thing. Maybe saying I'd face Batman is a bad thing.

"Then pay attention," Tim said using his bat-voice, "I was saying we need to control the conversation. This won't be easy. My dad was a successful executive. He has years of experience making psychological power plays. My dad will be in his armchair. It's a power position. Anybody sitting on the couch will be forced to turn to face him. Dana will be sitting on the side of the couch closest to him, as a sign of solidarity. There's another armchair can move opposite Dad, so we can take up an equal power position."

I just nodded and acted like I understood what he was talking about, but, Tim being Tim, he read me like a book and explained. "I'm trying to psychological put us on equal footing with my parents, so we're not just two kids being reprimanded by the adults. Now, let's go. We've left them waiting just long enough to show them we do have some control, but if they wait any longer, they'll just be pissed. And put on your glasses they'll make you less threatening."

"Less threatening, I can do that." I put on my specs and pulled out my mild- mannered skills, that Clark taught me. I ducked my head and lowered my gaze. Then let my shoulders slump and loosened up my limbs. With my stance completely changed, I cleared my throat and asked in a softer version of my voice, "How's this—mostly harmless?" I gave the glasses a nervous push for added effect.

Tim just gave me a surprised look. "If I didn't... Where did learn to do that?" He asked the surprise filling his voice.

"From Superman, It's how he can go around without a mask and still have a secret I.D.," I said giving a modest shrug, with an equally modest awe- shucks smile.

"I always wondered..."

"You said something about not making them wait too long," I reminded him letting some of my trademark smugness shine through my disguise.

"Right," he said regaining his cool instantly, another bat-trick, before heading out the door.

-tbc-

A/N: This slowly turning into one of the largest single stories I've written, so I've decided to brake this into parts. I hope to have the next part up some time this weekend. And yes, Kon is a complete hornball. Put down to him being a very open minded and imaginative teenage clone. I couldn't help the Queer Eye reference. That show is addictive.