Author's Note: So, I enjoyed a nice story that was Conner and Tim. And I remembered the actual Young Justice comics that had them as best friends along with Bart. And so I'm just loving the couple right now. This story was honestly just to try writing sex. So don't expect much. I'm really not lying. I'm jut trying to write sex.

Warning: SEX... maybe. I'm attempting sexy sexiness. By the by, I've been drinking.

Control, or Lack Thereof

I'm starting to suffocate

And soon I anticipate

I'm coming undone

- Coming Undone, "KORN"

It was for the lack of control.

That's what he said anyway.

His door slid opened fifteen minutes after the debriefing with Nightwing. Conner had just taken off his shirt, frowning down at the blood splattered on the sleeve. The smell which was the only thing that alerted to him that he had the substance on his black shirt was metallic, burning his nostrils and placing an odd taste in his mouth. He had never tasted his own blood and the smell was the closest thing he had come by.

When he asked, Tim had said that it wasn't exactly a pleasant taste. He actually told Conner to bite into a metal beam. He had asked why he couldn't just taste his blood, he was bleeding from their latest mission anyway. Tim's eyes widened slightly from under the mask, before a slight dusting of pink stretched across his face. Tim had babbled for a total of five seconds before he neutralized his expression and told Conner that he once again made a social blunder.

The current Boy Wonder walked into his room, not even pausing at the state of undress his Kryptonian teammate was in. Tim (Wonder Boy, because Wally calls Dick Boy Wonder), turned to make sure that no one could enter the room once the door was closed even though he was fully aware that no one else but him and Conner had the pass code. Tim had to change it once Conner and M'gann had broken up.

And just like that, Tim's mood shifted. His usually straight posture slumped in on itself and he rested most of his weight to his right leg, his left having been broken sometime last year and not quite healed. Mainly because he hadn't taken long enough to rest it.

Conner watched as Tim pulled his hand through his ebony hair, releasing a shaky breath and slowly beginning to unclasp his cape. Conner wanted to ask how his debriefing went. He assumed he had known the answer, because the mission went off without a hitch. And that meant that he shouldn't be here, in Conner's room, doing this. That meant it had to be a Bat Family issue. Which would have also explained Nightwing's logging off half-way through the mission and being replaced by Kaldur. Conner had expected his Atlantean friend to be there when they returned, but instead was met with the first Robin, face and voice closed off and telling everyone but Tim to go clean up after the initial report was given.

Conner stared at his best friend (and when had that happened? When all his former teammates moved on?) and eventually moved forward to place his hand on his shoulder. And it happened. Tim turned, his mask already having been peeled off, leaving behind whatever glue he needed to keep it up behind. He briefly wondered when he did that and how he must have not been paying attention if he didn't even hear it. The boy (fifteen now, growing older, getting taller, hair long enough to get into his eyes) was suddenly on his lips, holding a death grip on the clone's wrist, pulling him closer, pressing chest against chest.

It was supposedly to 'help him'. Tim, that is. That's what Tim had said anyway. Having to be in control for so long, never able to just let loose - Conner could understand that, he just never saw Tim as someone who would need to express his frustrations.

Not like this.

He let himself be pushed to his bed, felt his knees want to give out on him and make him fall backwards. But he steeled himself, and slowly lowered himself down, trying to keep up with Tim's aggressive kissing, listening to Tim whine as he expertly and gracefully straddled him. After what Conner supposed was a hard bite towards his lower lip (because honestly, how was he really supposed to know that) he remembered how he had to react, what he had to do.

Roughly grabbing Tim's hip, he heard the sigh of relief from the Wonder Boy's mouth before a groan as he quickly thrust up into the other's crotch, feeling the boy's half hard erection. He pressed back eagerly, spreading his legs wider and Conner, like usual during these activities, thanked to whatever god there was that acrobatic-legend Dick Grayson helped train Tim. Eventually Tim ended up on his back Conner breathing heavily through his nose as he ravished the boy's lips, hands easily pulling down his pants and let his foot hook into the waistband to completely take them off.

They were naked within minutes, erections rubbing against each other, pre-cum dripping onto their stomachs when Conner inserted his first finger. Tim hissed.

It was always like this. Tim would come into the room, always after missions, always after tough missions and it always would be up to Conner to help Tim unwind. And it was always rough. Always quick.

Legs suddenly thrown over Conner's shoulder, and after some very ineffective preparation and foreplay, he pushed in. Tim grunted underneath him, turning his face away and biting the pillow, feeling saliva drip down his chin. Not liking the blue eyes being taken away from his view, Connor angrily grabbed Tim's chin, thankful that Robin had been punched on their mission, knowing that his grip would leave a mark. Along with the bruises now adorning his hips, the thumb print on this thigh and the red bite mark on his neck.

Pained and lust-filled eyes stared at him and Conner growled, gripping one hand on the headboard, thankful that a few years ago they had figured out to make it durable against his strength. His other arm wrapped around Tim's shoulders, pushing the younger boy down harder onto his cock, burying his nose into his neck, adding a second mark and eventually feeling the skin break.

"A-ah!" Tim moaned as the muscles of Conner's stomach rippled against his own member and he felt his legs tighten on the shoulders of the other, toes long ago curled and sore.

For a full ten minutes, nothing but the sounds of groans from Conner and moans and gasping from Tim enveloped the room. And then, like always, shaky hands fisted into Conner's sweat-soaked hair by the nape of his neck. Nails scratched him, and Conner couldn't help the exaggerated noise of pleasure that escaped him. Where it would have scratched any normal person, it felt like nothing more than good pressure on his neck.

Tim was panting heavier now, pulling his lips taut and trying hard not to scream. He only half succeeded and Conner felt his orgasm release as he heard the boy's pleased groan. As Tim came down from the high, Conner continued to push in, taking pleasure in Tim's continued grunts and eventually nudged his friends face towards his, so he could kiss him hard as he pulled out and shot his own stream onto the mattress.

Rolling himself off, Conner listened to his own ragged breathing, watching from the corner of his eye as Tim tried to calm himself. He watched as the pupils of his eyes, large and dilating, tried to become smaller, face slipping into relaxation, then one of sternness, before finally settling on blank. After a few minutes, Conner braved up enough to slide his arm across the sticky expanse of Tim's stomach.

His reaction was instant.

It didn't startle Superboy. He was expecting it, actually.

Tim sat up, adjusting his weight for a second to get accustomed to their recent activities before standing up and redressing himself.

Finally, as he was clasping his cape back on (a complete circle), "We have a mission tomorrow. Be in the mission room at twelve."

"You got it, Wonder Boy." Conner couldn't help the scratchy tone of his voice, one that was definitely from their recent excursion, anymore than Tim could help a small smirk appearing on his face. But it vanished as soon as it came.

Conner, not even attempting to put on clothes, leaned up on his arms, naked for Tim to look back on as he left the room.

But he didn't look back.

The control was back.

I think... I'm gonna make this some kind of weird drabble story. If that makes any sense.

Or not.

Thanks for reading,

Eva