The Burn

by Lara Wilson

His mouth tastes like acid but he doesn't dare spit, can barely breathe. Eyes locked on the couple pressed against a chimney stack on the roof across from him, he crouches, unmoving, watching them, unable not to watch them.

She is bare from the neck to knees, her bodysuit crumpled at her feet. He has simply unfastened his jeans. They aren't kissing--her hood remains, though his is gone--but he bites at her shoulder as his hips pump into her. She claws at his leather-clad back and her hiss of pleasure flows across the rooftops.

Tim knew they were both in town within an hour of their arrival--Batman didn't make an issue of it, so Tim kept his own behind his teeth--but he never suspected this. Never suspected they even knew each other.

He shouldn't be surprised, though. Bats tend to be drawn to Bats.

He should give them privacy, give her privacy because he really doesn't like the guy but does remember a deep friendship and even an attraction never pursued with her. But he can't tear his eyes away, and, as the voice that couldn't even speak when he first met her, cries out the name 'Jason', Tim's stomach rolls again and he grimaces in disgust and distress, and wonders if the burn is purely that...or something else as well.


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