A groan spills out, heady and heavy in the thick air between their wet, ravenous mouths. Tim's skin is prickly with goosebumps, and he's hard as a rock within seconds of Bruce deepening the kiss. It makes him feel dizzied, but he knows Bruce has him, that even if Bruce was fighting his last dying breath, he'd have Tim. Hold him. Keep him safe.

Tim can barely breathe right. His hands are impatient, seeking out Bruce's skin, lifting his wifebeater to get at the warm, sweaty flesh beneath. He seeks the hair on Bruce's chest, the scars on his belly, the trail of hair from his navel down until Tim would have to break the kiss or pull back to go further.

Finding a nipple instead, Tim runs his palm over it several times, feeling the nub perk, and then slides his hand until the nipple is caught against the web of his index and middle fingers. He squeezes. Gently.