
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/165953.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Young_Justice_(Cartoon), DCU
  Relationship:
      Kaldur'ahm/Kon-El
  Character:
      Kaldur'ahm, Kon-El, Red_Tornado
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-02-26 Words: 2286
****** Pamphlets ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Aqualad has no idea what he's in for.
Notes
     WARNING for the consent issues that come with being freshly grown.
     Full of silly headcanon. Written for Porn Day and the frighteningly
     handsome Peri.
“Can I... touch you?”
“How so?” Kaldur asks, looking up from his book without missing a beat as
Superboy sits down beside him on the couch. He’s come to expect the occasional
wording difficulties from him; it’s doubtful that he understands the
implications of his words, and Kaldur doesn’t think it his place to confirm the
matter. Superboy squeezes his eyes shut, so Kaldur just waits for him to find
the way to articulate his request. His communication skills are far from
perfect, but as long as he’s not being shouted at, Kaldur has plenty of
patience.
“...Kid Flash and Robin are always... putting their arms around each other’s
shoulders, or slapping their hands together. And Miss Martian likes hugging
people. Most of my touching other people has been hitting them,” he sighs, and
Kaldur gives a thin smile. It’s not exactly uplifting, being reminded that for
all his knowledge Superboy doesn’t know what a high five is, but that he
understands physical contact should go beyond punching is encouraging. “I
thought I should ask you. Miss Martian seems uncomfortable when Kid Flash gets
too close to her, and you didn’t mind back in Cadmus, when...”
“It’s somewhat different in a situation where touching someone will save them
from harm, but no, I didn’t mind,” Kaldur interrupts. He’d prefer to work on
one thing at a time, and both his King and Batman believe that Superman will
come around eventually. It’s not the time to dwell on him and the ways he and
Superboy are different. “It’s thoughtful of you to ask though. Some people are
uncomfortable being touched without permission, and others prefer not to be
touched at all. As for me, you can. Did you have anything in mind?”
“Could we do the...” he holds his hand up flat, and Kaldur high fives him,
smiling.
“High five. It’s best if you’re forceful enough that it feels energetic, but
not so vigorous that it hurts. I can handle considerably more than the average
person, but you’ll want to exercise caution with most people. Especially non-
metahumans,” he explains. Superboy takes a moment to process the information
before repeating the motion; just hard enough that it feels energetic, he
notes. “Perfect. It’s a good informal celebratory gesture. So while you should
feel free to high-five, say, Robin, you might not want to try and get one out
of Batman.”
“I figured, but thanks,” Superboy replies, smiling as well; Kaldur likes to
think they’re both equally amused at the thought of Batman being offered a high
five. “Your... skin icons? Can I touch them?” he asks, and Kaldur’s smile
falters, though it’s not the interest in his skin icons that bothers him. For
all their uses and their appeal to those flashes of teenage vanity, they’re
something of an Achilles heel: the flesh is incredibly sensitive. He couldn’t
even swim the week after he got them without excruciating pain. The thought of
specifically allowing someone else to touch them is disconcerting.
But... he wants Superboy to be able to trust him. And he’s all too aware of the
image he projects: welcoming, but guarded. How Superboy is supposed to allow
himself to be vulnerable in front of someone who won’t return the favour,
Kaldur has to admit he can’t imagine.
He snaps out of his thoughts and looks back to Superboy, whose smile has faded
somewhat. “Yes. But please be especially gentle. They’re very sensitive.” He
shifts his body a little closer to Superboy’s, proffering his arm; Superboy
cups his elbow with one hand, supporting it without so much as being asked.
Despite his consideration, it’s still startling to Kaldur when a finger draws a
slow stripe down his shoulder. It’s nothing like the initial pain was, but he
tenses nonetheless, and Superboy draws back immediately.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and Kaldur isn’t entirely sure, but he’s determined
not to give in.
“I am fine. It’s just... unusual. I’ll tell you if it becomes too much,” he
assures Superboy, who holds his gaze for a moment, as if to ensure that he’s
speaking truthfully. Kaldur seems to pass the test, and Superboy lays a finger
on his arm again, applying more pressure in his explorations. Kaldur bites back
the wince, the gasp, the whine he can feel building in his throat. He is
Aqualad, the leader of his team, the one who remains composed no matter what
he’s faced with, and he refuses to buckle under pressure.
But oh, is it ever a daunting task. Superboy moves away from an area as soon as
Kaldur begins to think he might acclimate, electricity crackles just underneath
his skin, and while Superboy’s fingers are smooth as can be, Kaldur swears he
can feel his fingerprint’s every ridge as it drags torturously across the ink.
He draws in a ragged breath, and Superboy halts once again.
“I’m okay. Really,” Kaldur manages, unsure whether he’s trying to convince
himself or Superboy, but the latter takes him at face value, grabbing his arm
with his entire hand, and it’s all he can do to sit stock-still, the icons
glowing faintly as he struggles to restrain both the electricity and himself at
the same time. He refuses to react in such a manner. It’s... degrading, it’s
embarrassing, it’s going to traumatize Superboy, it’s happening anyway, and
it’s a few more moments of wonderful agony before he can choke out Superboy’s
name.
“...You’re aroused,” Superboy says, casual as if he were saying hello, but this
time he doesn’t relax his grip on Kaldur’s arm.
“I... suppose I am,” Kaldur pants, not sure whether to be comforted or
horrified by Superboy’s tone. “I apologise. I need to... control my physical
impulses. Was arousal in your Cadmus education?”
“No, I... Red Tornado got me some pamphlets,” he replies sheepishly, and Kaldur
lets out a breathy laugh. “You shouldn’t apologize. If you want to, we could...
do things? If you like boys. The pamphlet said not everyone does.” Whether he’s
allowed to respond the way his cock wants him to, he’s not sure. Is it
inappropriate for the team leader to ‘do things’ with one of his team members?
Should he be concerned about Superboy’s mental age, and the possible emotional
ramifications? Does Superboy understand sex as well as he’s implying he does?
“I... I’m not sure if you know what you’re asking,” Kaldur decides to raise his
last concern, and Superboy’s expression immediately sours.
“Don’t,” he growls, and the sound is more thrilling than Kaldur has any right
to feel it is, but Superboy reins himself in, “treat me like that. I read all
the pamphlets. Twice.”
“My apologies. That’s... as good a qualification as any,” he admits; Red
Tornado has proven himself to be more than competent as a caretaker. He’ll just
have to trust that he gave Superboy a good education. “To answer your queries,
I do happen to like boys. And... doing things sounds great.”
“Good. I’ve been waiting to try this out for days,” he says, wasting no time in
straddling Kaldur and grabbing his cock through his pants, sudden and rough.
Kaldur tries to laugh, thinking of all the teens who wait years to put their
knowledge to good use, tries to scold himself for being caught off guard so
easily, but all his brain can manage is a slew of Atlantean curses his King
would prefer to imagine Kaldur doesn’t even know.
“Let go, just for a moment,” his voice wavers as he fights the urge to just
allow Superboy to happen to him. Superboy doesn’t even bristle at being told
what to do, and the bit of mind his arm’s release affords him a moment of
satisfaction when he realizes it; perhaps this small breakthrough in their
relationship somehow makes up for all the dirty thoughts running through
Kaldur’s mind. He tugs at the sleeves of Superboy’s shirt, and Superboy takes
the hint, lifting his arms for Kaldur to pull his shirt off; realizing that
he’s being given access to the sight before him is mind-blowing, but he still
takes the opportunity to remove his belt buckle, setting both it and the shirt
aside. This is just about the last time he wants to call for his King’s aid.
Kaldur’s hands finally free, he doesn’t even have the decency to hesitate as he
grabs Superboy’s pectorals, failing terribly in his attempt to seem as though
he’d never imagined them in his grasp before. He’s no slouch himself, but
Superboy’s physique is perfect. He’d be jealous if he weren’t so turned on. He
massages the firm muscle and glances up at Superboy to see him biting his lip,
glad he can get a reaction out of Superboy too, but it seems almost
insignificant when Superboy grabs him by both arms and Kaldur cries out,
completely insignificant when they glide up and down and he wants to scream,
his icons emitting dazzling light.
“I’m going to electrocute you!” he shouts desperately.
“I read some people like that,” Superboy lets go with a smug grin, giving
Kaldur a moment to recover. Just how in-depth were those pamphlets?
“Just... please, not both at once. I can’t handle it,” Kaldur laughs at his own
lack of composure, casting his eyes down to his cock, his pants so tight it
feels like they might rip wide open; he rises just enough to slide them off his
hips, giving himself some much-needed breathing room. Superboy’s not exactly
looking comfortable in his jeans either, so Kaldur undoes his belt buckle;
Superboy catches on yet again, and stands up to shrug off his jeans and boxers.
Kaldur can’t help but notice that one of them is significantly more clothed
than the other, but he can’t bring himself to be too concerned about it when
Superboy is straddling him again. Determined to not be the only one reduced to
quivering hormonal mush, he reaches around to grab Superboy’s ass (oh wow),
pulling him close enough that he can wrap his hand around both of their cocks.
Just the excitement of contact causes Superboy to buck into Kaldur’s grip,
drawing pleased moans out of the both of them. Kaldur squeezes his ass and
pumps his hand up and down, eating up every little contraction he can get out
of the muscles in Superboy’s face.
But it seems like he’s destined to be surprised as far as this encounter goes,
as Superboy leans forward and slips his tongue into Kaldur’s open mouth, and
now it’s Kaldur thrusting against Superboy as a tiny voice in the back of his
mind tells him that it’s Superboy’s first. It’s rough and messy, their teeth
clacking together, but Aqualad can’t find it in him to complain, even when
Superboy breaks away, planting kisses on his jaw, his gills, his collar, his-
- no, he wouldn’t.
But he does, bringing everything back to the damn skin icons, just the light
brush of his lips getting Kaldur to whimper meekly, but it’s quickly supplanted
by his tongue, and Kaldur could count the taste buds if he weren’t so occupied
making noises he had no idea he could make, grabbing Superboy’s ass with his
other hand to pull him as close as he’ll get, arching and thrusting in a
frenzied desire for friction, and then Superboy grabs his arms again and he’s
going to come or die but he’s not sure which one and ohfuck, teeth
Kaldur’s orgasm hits him like lightning and a tidal wave, and he thinks he
electrocutes Superboy a little, the bright burn of his icons piercing through
his clenched eyelids as he comes all over his shirt with a strangled cry.
He confirms that he didn’t die by opening his eyes to the sight of Superboy
staring at him, biting his lip so hard it’s bleeding as he jacks himself off,
the sight causing Kaldur to shudder. Superboy finishes with a grunt, ruining
Kaldur’s costume even more before he collapses onto him, their chests heaving
together as they catch their breath.
“Did I... shock you?” Kaldur wheezes.
“A little bit,” Superboy chuckles, lifting his head off Kaldur’s shoulder when
he gasps at the movement. “I didn’t mind.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs. He thinks to ask how it all made Superboy feel, his
earlier concerns beginning to make their way back through his mental haze, but
contentment is written all over his face, his body relaxed like Kaldur’s never
seen it before. It would probably be patronizing to ask when the simple answer
is right there; they can discuss the complexities later. For now, lying there
together sounds perfect.
“Hello, boys,” Red Tornado greets them, and haze is immediately replaced with
panic as Kaldur struggles to find the words (they’re not coming) or cover
himself up (Superboy has his pants firmly pinned) or something that will make
this situation less horrifying.
“Hey,” Superboy replies, and that is really not what Kaldur had in mind.
Red Tornado looks from one of them to the other, his expressionless faceplate
only fueling Kaldur’s unease until he finally says, “I see my effort in
procuring those instructional pamphlets was not wasted.”
“It wasn’t. Thanks,” Superboy says, and that’s when Kaldur begins to think that
Superboy is handling this whole thing with more maturity than he is.
“You are welcome. Please do not forget to clean up after yourselves. Superboy
knows where the laundry room is, and there are cleaning supplies in the
closet,” he adds before turning around and walking away.
“We won’t!” Kaldur calls after him, determined to be at least somewhat
responsible, though it doesn’t stop him from letting out the huge breath he’d
been holding in. “You... you’re going to have to show me these pamphlets.”
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