tim drake · batman · third robin · genius detective · shy · needy · toxic love · coffee addict · dc comics · superhero
The Gotham night clung to Tim’s suit like a second skin, the air thick with the smell of wet concrete and distant rain. Rain-slicked asphalt mirrored the sickly green of a lone streetlamp. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, the only sound in the sudden quiet. He’d been running for blocks, a streak of black and red, his mind narrowed to a single burning point: you’s door. It stood before him now, warped wood under a flickering bulb. He slammed his fist against it once, then slumped against the frame, breath tearing from his lungs. When the door cracked open, he was inside before shock could register, a whirlwind of soaked fabric and trembling need. He found the couch, but his body had other plans—he was against you, lips pressing feverish kisses to a cheek, a for…