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Tim pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh. Alfred’s voice boomed over the line, stern and reproachful.
“Master Timothy, please be reasonable. It is only for one week.”
“Yeah, well, the further I am from her, the better I feel, Alfred. So staying a whole week? Did she even ask specifically for me to be there? I highly doubt it.”
He fumbled around his apartment while talking, adjusting his headphones so he could hear Alfred better. The butler called him early in the morning, he didn’t sleep for two nights straight. He needed coffee. Asap.
“While I understand your doubt, she did say, and I quote, that it would be nice to gather everyone at the manor for a few days. Everyone from the family. That includes you, Master Timothy.”
“She was probably thinking about Dick by saying that. What am I supposed to do Alfred, come in with a smile and say happy birthday? I haven’t seen her in two years, and frankly, it’s better that way.”
“You haven’t seen us in two years, either.” Alfred reprimanded him sternly. “Coming once a month for two hours does not count, young man. Just bring yourself, a few changes of clothes, and maybe a gift, as it is for her birthday.”
Tim winced at that. He sighed. “Alright. Jason’s better be there, too, then.”
“Of course, Master Timothy.” Alfred hung up, leaving an already exhausted Tim to try and gather things up.
If the little princess says anything about his presence, he’s back to his apartment without a thought.
After a little research, he decided on a gift for the little snot, went to buy it, packed his things and left.
After a long hour drive with too much coffee to stay awake -Tim needed a nap, really, two days without sleeping were too much for his brain-, he parked by the manor.
Damia’s birthday was in two days, but it seemed Jason AND Richard had already arrived.
Their oldest apparently managed to take some vacation for his little princess, Tim noted bitterly. But coming to see him once every six months took too much time.
He took a deep breath in. Now was not the time to start banter. He pulled out his suitcase, leaving the gifts in his car for now and rang to the manor.
To his greatest surprise, it was Damia herself who opened the door. They stared at each other for a second.
Alright. So apparently, two years were enough to turn the little imp into a grown woman. She resembled her mother in many ways, her dark skin bare of any imperfection, fulls lips down in a permanent pout, dark long eyelashes fluttering slightly in surprise. She cut her hair down to her shoulder, dark silk shining in the sunlight. Her emerald eyes glanced at him up and down before stopping to stare at his face, unmoving. At the moment, she was wearing comfortable clothes, a dark pair of jeans and a large red sweatshirt, from the look of it, belonging to Jason.
“You came.” Was all she said, her voice with a hint of barely hidden amazement as she stepped away to let him in.
“Apparently I did.” He mumbled, entering the manor. He immediately got bear-hugged by Dick, the man lifting him to his head.
“Timmy! You’re late!”
“Am I, now?” He sighed, patting his shoulder.
Damia was still intent on burning him with her gaze, it seemed. Jason closed in and patted Tim’s shoulder.
“I’m glad you did, kid, wouldn’t want to be alone here.” He snickered. “Alfred talked you into it?”
“He guilt tripped me into it, you mean.” He snickered as well. “Saying coming once a month to see him was barely not enough. Bruce’s not here?”
“At the Enterprise.” Damia replied. “Alfred prepared your old bedroom, you can place your suitcase there, Drake.”
“Hmmmkay, thanks.”
He made his way upstairs after greeting the old butler, pulled down his suitcase and glanced around.
It has been a while since he hadn’t stayed in the manor.
Damia leaned against the opened door frame. “You look like shit, Drake.”
Tim didn’t jump. He wouldn’t give the little imp the satisfaction. Still, he hated the fact he didn't hear her close in. He rolled his eyes, turning to face her.
“Yeah, well, I haven’t been able to sleep for two days straight, working on a case and stuff, and then Alfred dragged my ass here. So, sorry if I’m not suitable for your little party, princess.”
She scrunched up her nose in disdain, clicking her tongue. “The party is in two days. You will have plenty of time to rest until then.”
That left him flabbergasted. “I-...”
“Just make sure to be there for dinner this evening, you need to better sustain yourself, too.” And with that, she turned on her heels and left a very surprised Timothy in his bedroom.
What the hell was that?
In the end, the rest of the day was spent in one of the living rooms, Dick chit chatting about things while Jason piped in from time to time, Damia cuddled her pets and Tim nodded off on the side, almost drooling on Alfred’s perfectly soft cushion. Bruce joined them later, and they spent an uneventful evening, Timothy leaving early to get some rest.
The next morning, Tim woke up much less tired than before. He glanced at the clock and groaned. Already 11 a.m. Alfred wasn’t going to be happy. He took a shower and changed, making his way downstairs. A delicious smell of waffles lured him to the kitchen.
To his surprise, the butler was cooking with Damia, and they both wore cute pink little aprons with cat’s on their front. She was nodding her head to something Alfred was saying, focused on her task at hand, which seemed to properly cook the waffles.
“Ah. Master Timothy. Good morning.”
“Huh… Hi, Alfred. Hi, Damia.”
She just nodded at him, not leaving the iron waffle from her gaze.
“Miss Damia insisted that we would prepare a… What do you call it…? A brunch. For this lunch. You are the first one of the boys to rise.”
Tim’s eyebrow shot up. “What? Jason and Dick are not up yet?”
“Apparently they also decided to sleep in.” Damia replied, pulling out freshly cooked waffles from their cooker. “I finished the batter, Alfred. Maybe I should start doing the scrambled eggs?”
“Thank you, miss, leave that to me. You helped me enough already.”
“Fine.” She removed her apron, carefully placing it back, before sitting in front of Tim. “... What.”
“You… Helped Alfred cook all of that?” He asked stupidly, waving his hand at the various array of food around them. There were cooked beans, roasted ham, lots of various plates of veggies and grilled fishes, yoghurt with fruits…
She snickered, pouring herself a large glass of orange juice. “TT. Of course. It is frankly ridiculous that Father relies so much on Pennyworth. And I do not wish to grow up useless like the lot of you, not able to prepare proper meals for my health.”
He groaned. “I know how to cook.”
“Do you, know?” She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.
He didn’t reply, deciding instead to stuff his mouth with some yoghurt, focused on Alfred pottering around.
They didn’t talk for the rest of the meal, but Tim noticed her glancing up at him from time to time. He didn’t think much of it, she was probably just planning her next attempt at killing him.
He jumped up when a wet snout sniffed his bare skin at the small of his back, where his shirt did not entirely reach down to the helm of his pants.
“Titus!” Damia reprimanded the great dane. “Out. You’re not allowed in the kitchen.”
The gigantic dog whined pitifully, walking out. She sighed and stood up. “Alright. I’ve left him waiting long enough, I’m going for a walk, Pennyworth.” She paused next to Tim. “If you wish to join, Drake.”
Tim looked up from his coffee mug, once again rendered speechless. He was about to say no when he noticed Alfred’s stern look.
“Errr… Sure. I’ll just… Grab my jacket. Be right back.”
He joined her afterward, Damia already outside. She had put on a large, cream-colored fluffy beanie with a pompom atop it, and a white coat, very princessy like, that covered her up to her knee and acted like a big cape.
He might have stared longer than necessary, because she snapped.
“What?”
“You’re… Cute?” He admitted, eyebrows raised up high. “I didn’t know you could wear that kind of stuff?”
“TT. You haven’t seen me for 2 years, Drake. And before that, we always crossed paths as vigilantes. I wear what I want.”
He swore he saw a blush on her cheeks, but she turned her back to him and whistled, Titus running toward her happily.
They started to walk silently around the manor, and Tim thought it was a mistake. He had nothing to say to her. He wasn’t Dick, able to talk without breathing or stopping.
To his surprise, she was the one to break the silence.
“Drake, I-...” She paused, staring at her dog rummaging around in the fallen leaves.
She clenched her fist, and Tim didn’t move but prepared himself in case she attacked him. He did not expect what she blurted out after. “I wished to apologise.”
“Wha-”
She held up a hand, turning to face him.
“Let me finish. I know… What I did to you is unforgivable. I tried to kill you, and I severed your tie to this family, and I hurt you over and over again and… And I believe I don’t deserve your pardon, but I need to say it nonetheless. You are a good man, Drake. You care for this family, you care for Gotham… And you did not deserve what I threw at you. I have been meaning to apologise to you for a long time now.” She chuckled bitterly, finally tearing her eyes away from his cold-blue ones. “I even wrote and rewrote what I should say to you, but in the end I thought it would be best if I said it out loud. More meaningful, I suppose.”
Tim waited a second to make sure she was finished. He shifted his weight from one foot to another awkwardly. That was really not something he was expecting. He pondered over what to say for a second, both watching the giant dog happily run around them, barking at a bird.
“I-... Thank you. I mean. I wasn’t nice toward you either. What you made me endure, I threw it back at you as well, when I should have been the more mature one and just… Let it go. And I get it, now. You came from a very difficult background, you wanted to prove yourself…” He pushed a rock aside with his foot. “While I can’t really… Forget what I’ve been through during that time…” He saw her wince at his words and stare down at her shoes. “I guess I can forgive.” He finished.
When she looked back up at him, her eyes were blown wide in amazement, a tentative smile curling ever so slightly her lips. Tim stared at it, briefly wondering if she had put on some gloss. She shot out her hand. “So… Should we start anew?”
He shook it, snickering. “This seems very official, but I suppose we could, yes. Nice to meet you, my name is Timothy Jackson Drake. But you can call me Tim.” He joked.
To his surprise, she laughed at it, squeezing his hand a second before letting go. She replied in a mock posh voice. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Timothy. My name is Damia Al Ghul Wayne. I believe you know my Grandfather.”
At her answer, Tim burst out laughing, and she joined him. They walked back to the manor in a much more companionable silence.
---
Finally, Damia’s party arrived. For the day, Bruce had invited a few friends, and Clark with his little family arrived, Jon hugging Damia and twirling her around as soon as he saw her, laughing.
Damia, on the other side, groaned and mumbled that he was going to undid her hair.
For the occasion, everyone wore outfits less casual than usual. As in, instead of everyone walking around in the manor in sweatshirt and sport outfit, Alfred had them wear more fashionable clothes.
Bruce opted for jeans and a black shirt. Richard was much the same, except his shirt had hawaiian flowers on it. Jason and Tim made a little more effort, the older wearing a dark leather jacket atop of his red buttoned up shirt. He even tried to gel his hair back.
Tim, on his side, decided to put on a tartan red and black waistcoat on top of his black shirt. He had rolled up the sleeves to his elbow. His jeans were black too and skinny, and wore military black boots that had Alfred tutting in gentle disapproval, but amused him greatly. But he knew he looked great. (Damia had stared at him a lot, and if he was being honest with himself, he hoped she would.)
Against all odds, Damia was wearing a dark emerald green dress matching her eyes. The top was made out of laces until her waist, where the dress flowed gracefully around her knee. It was open on the back, revealing the small of her back. Alfred tried to make her wear high heels to go with it but she refused, opting for more simple dark ballerina shoes. Her short hair was decorated with a beautiful gold hair clip.
Tim tore off his eyes from her when he got his own crushing bear-hug from Kon.
“Long time no see, man!” The clone smiled.
Tim returned the hug with a grin. “Indeed. I’m happy to see you were all able to come.”
“Oh please. Bruce would have ended me if we didn’t.” Clark joked after he hugged Damia too. “And Jon as well, probably.”
“Hey! It’s not everyday that our local girl wonder turn 18!” Jon beamed. He placed a small present into her hands. “I never know what to get you for your birthday, you always have everything. But I hope this will please you!”
“Thank you, Jon.” She smiled, walking back inside to put it next to the other gifts.
Diana arrived a bit later, as well as Cass, Duke, Barbara and Gordon, and Steph.
Everyone gathered around the table to eat, talking and laughing until the afternoon.
Then came the time for Damia to open her presents. Considering her Father’s more than wealthy amount of money, she never asked for anything specific for her birthday, since she always had it. Instead, people were trying to surprise her with more meaningful gifts.
She took Jon’s small gift first. A large smile curled her lips when she opened it to reveal a beautiful glass pen, with swirls of gold inside it.
“I made it! Dad helped me!” Jon cheered, bouncing on his seat. “I mean.” He glanced back at Gordon. “We went to a glass blower and stuff and he showed me how to do it, and voila!”
Clark rolled his eyes next to him.
“You told me you liked calligraphy, so I thought…”
“This is beautiful, thank you, Jon. I can’t wait to try it.” Damia carefully placed back the pen into its casing for now.
The next gift she opened was from Jason and Dick. It was a gorgeously ornamented sword, engraved with her name on it. Jason snickered.
“To add to your collection over your bed.”
Fighting the urge to try and twirl it in her hand, Alfred wouldn’t approve, she nodded, thanking them as well.
She opened all her gifts, thanking everyone. Tim excused himself a second and came back with his gift.
“For obvious reasons, I couldn’t wrap mine.” He mumbled, placing three tall cacti in front of her. He chose three different kinds, each with blooming colored flowers atop. “Sooo… I know you have a greenhouse and take care of it, and I… well. They reminded me of you.” He admitted, walking back with his hands in his back.
Jon snickered. “What, beautifully deadly and spiky? I don’t see why.”
Damia pursed her lips at her friend, everyone laughing gently. Then she looked back at Tim, a soft smile on her face.
“Thank you, Drake. I will add them to the greenhouse, they should fit wonderfully.”
Tim breathed out softly. He was afraid she would take it badly, but apparently not. She apparently matured quite a lot in those past two years. She had such a beautiful smile. Catching himself thinking that, he quickly ducked back to his seat next to Dick, the man patting him on the shoulder.
The rest of the day passed quietly. Timothy caught Damia watching him with a strange expression from time to time. When, at some point, their eyes crossed, Tim tried to smile curiously at her, and she quickly darted her eyes away, reporting her attention on someone else.
He didn’t think much of it, nor did he pay attention to how his heart hammered faster in his chest.
---
It was a month later that things changed.
Timothy had come to the manor after work, wishing to speak with Bruce about one of their Wayne ent’s projects. The two men were chatting calmly in Bruce’s study when Damia entered the room furiously, slapping a journal on the desk.
“I can’t believe this bitch!” She groaned. Bruce immediately called her on it.
“Damia. Language.”
“Sorry, Father. But look! Look what she wrote!”
Tim took the journal, reading out loud the article Damia was pointing at.
Damia Wayne, scarred of nothing
While it is notoriously known that members of the Wayne family partake in dangerous sports, often resulting in fractures and various scars, they don’t make a habit of proudly showing it.
Damia Wayne seemed to forget that as she wore a blue dress with open back at the latest charity event, revealing the awful scar on her back.
Members of the Gotham Elite found it really inappropriate for such an event, and showcasing it purposefully and so blatantly was seen as a provocative move.
People are afraid she might encourage young people to partake in dangerous activities themselves, and would rather have the Wayne heir act as the proper feminine lady she is supposed to be.
Tim placed down the journal, lips pursued. Damia was fulminating next to them, her furry radiating off her. He glanced at Bruce, the man frowning.
“I feared the time where the press would attack you. I managed to keep Vicky off your shoulder as you grew up, but apparently, you turning eighteen meant she stopped that truce…”
“The proper feminine lady she is supposed to be?! Father, seriously? She is saying to the world that women should be gentle and nice and obey men! This is…!”
“We know Gotham’s Elite is old fashioned. This was to be expected.” Tim sighed as well. “But maybe we could show them that you don’t care? You’re you, no matter what they think. Let them say what they want. They don’t see what’s behind your scar, and they think you got them by being careless.”
“But I do care! I’m not some fragile little flower waiting to be married! This is ridiculous! I’m already self conscious of this scar as it is.” She added more sadly.
Tim felt a surge of anger swell in him. Attacking people about their looks was common for the press, and while he got used to it and managed to keep them off his tail, seeing Damia like that made him want to push someone’s head into concrete.
“What about a tattoo?” He blurted out.
Bruce raised his eyebrow, about to speak. Tim raised his hand.
“No, hear me out. People do that, sometimes. People with scars. They don’t like their marks, so they ask for an artist to turn their scars into pieces of art. I’ve seen beautiful things done with it. You show them that you don’t care what they think about. Enhance your scar, make it beautiful, own it. It’s your body, not theirs. You should be proud of it, it shows what you’ve been through, what you lived through and that you still managed to get back on your feet.”
Damia swallowed, eyes slowly turning to his father.
“What do you think, Father?”
Bruce thought about it a moment before nodding. “If you feel like that could help, and if you want to, you can. I know a lot of good artists that would love to make you a design.” He smiled.
Damia returned his smile hesitantly. “I’ll think about it. Thank you.” She glanced back at Tim, nodded and left.
---
Later, Tim was taking a walk around the manor when he noticed Damia in the greenhouse. He approached, gently knocking the glass to announce his presence.
The greenhouse never has been this beautiful. It was filled to the brick with colourful plants, some with flowers, some not. He noticed the three cacti, arranged between the other plants.
“Are you feeling better?” He asked, running his hand on a large veined leaf curiously.
“Yes. Thank you. It is… A great idea. I think I will draw my own design.” She replied, spraying the roots of an orchid. There was a pause when she blurted out. “Are you still in a relationship with Conner?”
Tim, taken aback, spluttered. “Wait, what? How do you…? Oh. Jon.” He shook his head. “No. We stopped it one year and a half ago. We agreed it was better to stay friends.”
She nodded. “I see. Are you alright?”
He smiled softly, leaning against the glass and crossing his arms. “I mean, yes. I told you, we agreed it was better that way. I still love Kon, he’s one of my best friends. And it’s better it stays that way. What about you and Jon? Are you two a thing?”
“No!” She squeaked, her voice suddenly higher. “Of course not! Jon is an imbecile! I care for him, deeply, but he’s too stupid for his own good. Sadly, I believe growing up with the bats, I have a very precise type of men, now.” She admitted with a groan.
“Oh? And what are the conditions needed to sweep you off your feet, then? Dark, broody and smart?”
Damia snickered, a pretty blush creeping on her cheeks. “You are describing Father, and thank you but no. I mean. Smart is required, indeed, I like to have someone with a conversation, but I believe I brood enough myself to avoid searching someone like that.” She bit down her lips, quickly glancing back at Tim before returning her attention to another plant. “No, just… Caring… Smart, witty, cunning… That knows how to fight, obviously. A hard worker, probably with an addiction to coffee… Preferably older than me, guys my age are still too stupid, and…”
Tim had approached her. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should stop, right now. But instead of listening to logic, he listened to the magnetic pull that drove him closer, until he was right by her side. When he spoke, his voice was unconsciously lower, closer to his Red Robin’s voice.
“Should I feel concerned by this description?”
He didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath she took. “I didn’t say nerd in the description.” She mumbled, but didn’t move. Instead, her balance shifted slightly toward him.
“Ah, but one cannot fit entirely in your prerequisite, can they? No one is perfect enough for that.” Hesitating a second, Tim allowed his left hand to rest against her back.
He never thought one day he'd be so attracted to her. But right now, his mind wanted nothing more than to cradle her in his arms and take her right now and here, in the greenhouse, pushing her against the glass, making her scream in pleasure. He swallowed. It has been a long time since he felt so much desire for someone.
His heart skipped a beat when she finally looked up, eyes slightly lidded.
“You almost are.” She admitted, her voice barely audible, a whisper.
Tim’s control broke at that point. He clawed his hand into her back, his other hand surging behind her nape to turn her and press her flush against him.
She followed along willingly, tilting her head up and immediately taking his lips in a brutal kiss, her hands pawing at his chest.
Tim kissed her back, groaning between her lips as they explored each other’s tongue. It was messy and sloppy, but it felt so damn good. He pressed their body even closer, Damia wrapping her arms around his neck as she allowed it, curving against him in all the right places. She moaned between their lips, tugging him back until her back bumped with the table.
He held her up, sitting her on the table and pressed their hips together. Reluctantly, Tim broke the kiss to breathe, placing his forehead on her temple. Damia’s leg wrapped around his thigh, keeping him there. He whispered hotly in her ear.
“What are we doing, Damia…?”
“I don’t know.” She admitted, panting slightly. “I don’t know, but I know I want it. I never wanted a man so much in my life, Timothy. You’re… You’re… Aaah” She threw her head back as he thrust his hips against her, clawing his neck slightly. “Fuck, Tim, I want you so bad!” She admitted, pressing herself flush against his body.
He groaned, biting down her neck, trying to feel her even closer. “Do you have anything in your bedroom?” He mumbled into her golden skin. He grinned happily when she hummed her approval and let go of her. “Then, bedroom. Now. Go first. I… Need to calm down a bit.” He added with a blush.
She snickered, taking his lips again in a hot kiss before hopping off the table.
“Don’t make me wait too long, Timothy.”
He saw her adjusting her hair as she walked back toward the manor.
He took a few minutes to try and collect himself, but he was still painfully hard in his jeans. The prospect of what was to come was too much. Bruce was in his study. He wouldn’t cross his path. And Alfred… If he avoided the kitchen, he should be fine.
Reaching Damia’s bedroom, Tim stopped for a brief second. What if she changed her mind? What if she didn’t want it anymore, or if she-… The door flew open and he got dragged inside, then abruptly pressed against the closed door as she pressed herself against him.
“You’re thinking too much.” She mumbled, pressing small kisses along his jawline. “I could hear you from here.”
He snickered, sliding his hands up her waist, underneath her sweatshirt. She walked back and removed it, exposing herself to him without any shame or second thought. Tim marvelled at the view. He ran his hand on a few scars on her taut stomach, watching the muscles flutter slightly at his touch. Pressing his hands fully on her body, up her back, he took her back in his arms, undoing her bra and letting it fall somewhere. He leaned down, kissing her again before sliding his kisses along her neck, collarbone and breast.
She gasped, undulating her hips against his, a hand raking through his hair.
He took a nipple between his lips, toying with it, his other hand cupping her gently. Damia ran a hand through his hair and to keep him against her chest, moaning softly.
They wobbled back to the bed. He used that time to remove his own shirt, and Damia’s hands immediately moved up his torso, stroking his pec. Then, surprisingly, she brushed her hand on the scar on his neck, the one she gave him years ago when she tried to kill him.
She bit down her lips, a strange fear in her eyes. Tim smiled. He took her hand in his and brought it to his face, kissing her palm.
“Told you, it’s forgiven.” He whispered, leaning down to claim her lips in a more languid kiss. She hummed into it, pressing on his back to feel him against her. The passion returned, and they started to move against each other, Damia’s breath coming out in short pants. They finished removing each other’s clothes, Tim grateful for it. His erection has been painfully hard in his pants for too long.
He then proceeded to worship the glorious body in front of him, kissing every scar, every patch of skin he could. Her toned body flexing and shuddering under his attention. He made his way down her body, kissing her intimate part before starting to explore it with his tongue.
She moaned loudly, a hand reaching down to tug on his hair.
It has been a while he hadn’t done anything with a woman, so he applied himself to pleasure her first, careful to listen to her reactions, moans and shudder of pleasure.
He slowly entered a first finger inside her, quickly followed by a second as she asked for more, arching her back under his attention.
He moved his hand painfully slow at first, Damia groaning in frustration, before he fucked her deep, burrying his fingers as far as he could into her.
He stopped just before she reached her climax, earning a slap on his shoulder as he crawled back on top of her. He grinned down at her, and she coaxed him against her, claiming his lips in another messy kiss. With her free hand, Damia reached down to squeeze his shaft. She then pushed him down the mattress, straddling his hips. Tim’s hand wound up on her hips, and he watched in awe as Damia rocked her hips against his. She reached down and, more gently, sucked a mark against his neck, right on the scar she left him.
He shuddered, letting out a low moan of pleasure.
Returning the favor, Damia kissed every part of his body, playing with his nipples as well. She reached his member and gave it a curious lick. After a second, she swallowed it down, sucking the tip into her mouth. Tim groaned loudly, cursing, and ran a hand through her hair, leaning on his elbow to watch it.
He allowed himself to enjoy this, his shaft engulfed in her beautiful wet lips, bobbing her head up and down. After a while, he clenched his hand in her hair.
“Fuck, Damia. Stop it. I want you so bad.” He croaked. “Please.”
For the sake of it, she sucked a bit harder, listening to his moan, before straddling his hips back. She rolled a condom on his cock with feverish hands while Tim covered her face with open mouthed kisses.
Finally, she impaled herself on him, and they moaned together, Tim wrapping his arms around her back, burying his face in her neck.
“Shit…” He whispered, not daring to move. He felt he was about to explode right there and then. Their little play have been long and torturous, and now that he was finally united with her, it was almost too much.
She hummed in agreement, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulder. She kissed his sweat-covered brow, leaning back a bit, and started to undulate on top of him, a very erotic look on her face as she stared at him. He groaned, not daring to close his eyes, enraptured in her gorgeous eyes.
Tim reached out, stroked her cheek and she leaned into it, a smile curling her full lips. She was panting softly as she moved up and down, using Tim’s shoulder as leverage to move.
“You are so handsome, Timothy.” She whispered, slowly undulating on him. “And you feel so good.” She moaned, biting her lips but never once leaving her eyes off him. “Ah. Tim. Tim.”
She began to move faster, the languid roll of her hips becoming harder.
“Damia.” He mumbled, finally breaking eye contact. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He thrust up into her, and she arched her back in pleasure with a moan. Tim slid down one hand between them, caressing her nub as he pounded into her.
“Ah! Ah! Timothy!” She kept calling his name as they started a relentless pace, hard and deep.
Tim wanted her so bad. Even as he was buried deep inside her, the need, the want, wouldn’t subdue. He pushed Damia down the bed and took her harder and harder, as she moaned louder, hands scratching his back.
“You feel so good, Damia! So good!” He praised, still stroking her clit as he pounded into her. He stopped and grabbed at her thigh, fucking her senseless. “Touch yourself, baby bat. I want you to come with me. Please.”
She seemed abashed by the request for a second, until she hesitantly reached down to touch herself, letting out a long wail of pleasure as Timothy grinned sharply, fucking her down onto the bed. It was a sight to behold for sure. He reached down to greedily swallow her sounds, she kissed him between their moans, her sounds higher and higher.
Her free hand was clutching his shoulder, holding him against her, and they broke the kiss a few times to gasp and moan into each other’s skin. Her legs snaked up his back as she met every of his thrust eagerly.
She screamed in pleasure into his mouth, contracting around him and he followed right after, groaning against her as their rhythm stuttered to a slow stop.
He flopped on her breathlessly, Damia stroking gentle circles on his back, her legs wrapped around his waist. They stayed unmoving like that for a few seconds, catching their breath.
He pulled out of her warmth, both moaning softly at the loss, and he laid next to her after getting rid of the condom. She immediately cuddled against him, still out of breath.
Then she started to laugh.
“Oh. My. God. It was…” She giggled. “Shit, Tim. I never felt like that before.” She admitted, biting her lips.
“Hm.” He groaned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “To be honest, me neither.”
“I think it was the best orgasm I ever had. I… Never thought about doing that.”
“What, sex?” He snickered when she gently slapped his torso.
“Don’t be stupid. No. To… To touch myself when…” She didn’t finish, suddenly shy.
Tim hummed softly, placing a kiss on her sweaty forehead. “Well, why be shy. It if help you climax, I don’t see why not.”
“Most men just want women to take pleasure from their penises.”
“As you may know by now, I’m not most men. And while I hadn’t that much experience with ladies, well. Let’s say I studied theory.”
She snickered a bit, nuzzling his neck. After a pause, she asked.
“Is… This a one time thing? Or…”
“What do you want?” He asked, a bit worried at her answer.
“I don’t know. I think… Maybe we should backtrack a bit, and go on a date? If-... If you want, of course.”
“Yeah, we can try and go on a date.” Tim sighed, catching her lips in a soft kiss. “But let’s try and do that discretly. I don’t want the press around us. Nor that I want Bruce to know. If it works out, then…” He shrugged.
She smiled into his shoulder. The prospect of a real date with Tim pleased her very much. She came to realise, a few years back, how incredible Tim was, especially after watching how the man worked in and out of vigilantism. Her view on him had changed slowly, and wanted to apologise since then. But the deed was done and Timothy was too far away, then.
Until she saw him at the manor’s door, a month ago. Beyond her surprise of him making an effort to come and reach out, she also realised she found him hot as hell.
This was an unexpected turn of event, but knowing they would maybe work this out together was worth it.