raith_rogue | (no subject)

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Thomas had completely forgotten about the bracelet in all of the "get Robin drunk and find out more," planning, and it was a couple of days before he found it again, when he checked his pants pockets before sending them out to be washed. He set it on the dresser to give to Robin and then promptly forgot it once again until he came home from work.

"...Right," he muttered, scooping up the charm and taking it with him as he came out to the living room to put on some music and wait for Robin to get home. No time like the present to try out the new spell Harry had put on it.

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Thomas watched him go with an almost wistful expression, then went back to the couch to wait for the food. When it came he made himself a plate and then nearly choked at the first bite of curry, draining what was left of his beer and then getting a huge glass of water before finishing it up (easier once he knew how fucking hot it was), rinsing the plate and shoving it into the dishwasher.

He took a shower, did some pacing, and then settled into bed, trying not to think about how pathetic it all felt, going to bed early and alone.

Robin had gone intending to do exactly what he'd promised - get a blow job. Except as soon as he'd gotten onto the street, it just seemed like so goddamned much work to go pick someone up, and he was pissy besides.

He walked across the street to a bar.

An hour and a half later, he returned home. No, not home, to Thomas'. To fucking Thomas.

He made some noise as he came in, probably because he was stumbling a little. In the bedroom, he stripped out of his clothes and climbed into the bed with Thomas, naked. He smelled of neither soap nor sex, just whiskey.

Thomas rolled over, half asleep, and slid a hand lightly down Robin's side with a little hum that was as close as he got to vocalizing a greeting.

Thomas touching him in itself, just the contact of his skin, was enough to send a spark of arousal through Robin. He groaned in frustration.

As Thomas felt the arousal from Robin, as his demon felt it and started clamoring for more, he woke up completely, jerking his hand back as he realized what he'd been doing. He didn't apologize, because that would be acknowledging it in the first place. He just tucked his arm close to his body again and closed his eyes.

Then he inhaled, taking note of the smell of Robin--and what he couldn't smell. He sat up, frowning down at him in the darkness. "...No luck?"

Robin groaned again and buried his face in the pillow. "Fuck you," he mumbled. "I could have anyone I wanted."

"Then why didn't you?" Thomas asked, eying Robin's head curiously.

"Because fuck you," Robin muttered. "I decided to drink instead. Why am I even here."

It was a question Thomas didn't want to explore in any depth, and he was pretty sure Robin didn't, either.

"All right," he murmured, lying back down and reaching down to fondle Robin's cock. If he hadn't gotten laid, Thomas could take care of that, at least. He did say he'd make it up to him.

Robin reached down and caught Thomas' wrist. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but - " He gritted his teeth, even as a wave of desire washed over him. "Not tonight, honey."

Thomas blinked and yanked his hand out of Robin's grip. "Sor-ry." He sat up with a huff and grabbed a spare blanket and his pillow, heading for the door.

Robin groaned again, and buried his face in the pillow. He didn't call after Thomas, though. Honestly, Thomas should probably be glad that Robin could resist him.

Which was one of the reasons that Robin had done it. To prove it to himself.

Even if he was probably going to have a jerk off now if he was going to have any hope of sleeping.

Thomas dropped his blanket and pillow on the couch and then put away the leftover thai food that was still waiting on the kitchen counter, slamming cupboards and the refrigerator as much as possible. Petty, yes, but tonight had sucked.

Robin listened to Thomas, and finally, after the sound died down, he slid a hand onto his cock and, with a quiet sigh, began to jerk off.

It annoyed the shit out of him that he was thinking of Thomas. And when he tried to think of someone else instead, his mind went to blond hair and feathers. Fuck.

When he came, it was with another quiet groan, and he cleaned himself up with a tissue and then sprawled across the entire bed to sleep.

At least he could count on something about Thomas - in the morning they just wouldn't talk about it, and all would be well.

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