Chapter Text
“So,” Professor Styles says, “I am going to assign groups for our next project.”
Tim groans. Great. Just fucking great. He doesn’t hate the idea of group projects; in fact, he understands just how important they are in developing skills for the working world and building relationships. It’s just…he was expecting some respite from his peers by taking AP English with the seniors as a freshman, and it seems his break is short-lived.
You see, Tim Drake isn’t like the other boys in his year. It’s not in the sense that he’s quirky (although it would be an apt description) or even that he’s transgender. It’s 2026 for fucks sake; no one gives a fuck if you’re trans anymore. No, it’s just that Tim has this tiny little itty bitty issue that likes to make itself everyone’s problem.
Namely, his vagina.
If you were to ask Tim Drake who his worst enemy was, he would tell you that it’s his pussy. Because at fifteen years old, Tim Drake has a very pretty pink and virginal pussy, but lord does it smell. He hates it, and anything he does to try and fix the smell only makes it worse. He showers twice a day, never fails to wear clean underwear (but the smell is to the point where he needs to replace them every three months as opposed to every year), and puts deodorant on his inner thighs. He doesn’t spray perfume directly on his pussy (he learned the consequences of that the hard way, thank you very much), but he does spritz a little over his jeans before class. He still smells like pussy, but it’s more of a flowery-vagina scent now compared to the musk of before.
His doctors have told him it’s normal, but how do you explain that to a classroom of teenagers – specifically boys – who have never even seen, nevermind smelled, a real-life vagina? Tim’s scent isn’t unusual; it’s just unusually strong.
To the point where his classmates won’t even look at him, and scoot their desks over the farthest away from him that they can manage. Despite Tim’s many reassurances that he does, in fact, know how to properly shower (and does it frequently too!) no one believes him.
So now Tim Drake is the weirdo who smells like pussy in his freshman class.
He’s accepted it at this point.
But with the seniors, he made sure to get a seat in the furthest corner of the room away from everybody else. He wipes his vagina diligently before class, and squirts his “pink champagne” perfume over the crotch of his jeans in the bathroom during passing period. He’s even taken to wearing pads so the slick doesn’t leak through his underwear and worsen the scent.
If anyone in his AP English class notices, they don’t mention it.
Everything changes, of course, when Professor Styles mentions a group project. Because that means he’ll have to be in close quarters with one of his classmates for the foreseeable future.
“Tim Drake, you’ll be paired with Jason Todd,” Professor Styles says. Tim pales.
Jason Todd – bookworm, total fucking hottie – paired with smelly-pussy Tim Drake.
Fucking hell.
Tim practically runs to Professor Styles’ desk when the bell to dismiss class rings.
“Professor Styles, please,” he begs, “please let me work alone. I swear I won’t need any extra time, I can make it up to you-”
“Tim,” Professor Styles sighs, “I don’t appreciate bullying.”
Tim blinks. “Bullying? This isn’t–I’d say this about anyone! It doesn’t matter if it’s Jason Todd or… or Conner Kent! It’s a me thing. Please, Professor, I have a medical issue and it’s going to make working with a partner incredibly difficult-”
“Do you have a doctor’s note?”
Tim bites his lip. “I…uhm…”
“Just try for me, please? If it doesn’t work out you can let me know and I’ll figure something else out.”
Tim shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “Alright.”
He turns around to find Jason Todd giving him an odd look.
Shit.
…
There’s nothing fun about watching someone you barely know beg the teacher to not do an assignment with you. It isn’t surprising–most people don’t work with Jason willingly–but that doesn’t make it sting any less.
Hell, he thought he’d actually have a chance to get along with the Freshman who’d been bumped up into this class, since the rest of his grade avoids him already.
Look, Jason knows why his peers don’t like him. He fucking stinks, and there’s barely anything that can mask the smell, no matter how hard he tries or how much he showers. It’s gotten better over the past few months, thanks to a herculean combination of medical grade deodorant, glycolic acid, and a fucking cologne specialist that keeps him from smelling like a locker room with no air conditioning in the summer (thank god Bruce is loaded).
But Jason can’t change his genetics, and they insist on fighting him every single fucking day.
But whatever, either his pit routine stopped fucking working or one of his asshole classmates blabbed.
“Yo,” Jason says once Professor Styles is done shutting Tim down (he sends his silent thanks to the professor as he eyes his new partner), “we should probably exchange numbers and meet up for this project.”
“Uhm,” Tim says, and when he moves closer Jason can’t help but swallow at how this fucking kid towers over him. Jason unfortunately stopped growing at 5 '5, but this kid has to be at least four inches taller than him and he’s only in his first year. “I’m sorry about that, it’s just-”
“Save it, kid. Don’t wanna hear it.” Jason’s pretty sure he’s already heard all of the excuses known to man as for why working with him just won’t work. He doesn’t need to make his shitty day even worse.
They exchange numbers, and Jason tries not to think about Tim until next Saturday, when they have to meet up for the project.
…
Gotham, unfortunately, doesn’t cool down in late September. It somehow finds a way to get even hotter instead, and now it’s 80 degrees on a Saturday afternoon and Tim is trying not to think about how that’s going to affect his crotch.
Tim arrives at the library five minutes early, only to find Jason is already there and sitting by a window. He has a notebook open, and his shirt has at least three buttons open, revealing his incredibly well-structured chest. Tim supposes being captain of the basketball team will do that to a person. Tim almost drools. What can he say? Jason Todd is fucking hot. You gotta be built to be 5 ‘5 and basketball team captain. Tim’s seen his games before, the man jumps like Kagami Taiga.
And Tim…
Listen, he tries not to be a freak, but he is absolutely taking in the five course meal that’s presented itself for him.
He’s taken enough etiquette classes in his life not to stare, but oh boy does he want to take pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. He’d fill a whole fucking photo album with pictures of Jason Todd’s tits. Maybe even lick them.
When Tim finally manages to sit across from Jason, he leans over to read what Jason has jotted down on his notebook. Jason’s already laid out two columns–one with his name on it and the other with Tim’s. Jason breaks the silence before Tim can open his mouth with a greeting.
“I don’t know what your issue with me is ‘cause you’ve been here for less than a month but I don’t have the time or energy. I divided the list of talks for the project in half, we can work on our own halves, and then merge them. If there’s anything you wanna swap, go ahead and say it now ‘cause once I start, I am not switching anything up.”
Tim stiffens, stunned.
What the hell is he supposed to say to that?
Well, he should explain himself. But he feels himself drip into his pad and realizes he forgot to change it before coming here. If Tim lets his slick leak into his pants, the smell will be stuck to him until he gets home to take a shower, and he only just got here.
It shouldn’t be legal for Jason to be this hot. Tim has always known he’s some flavor of gay, but God really seems to be testing him right now. Any semblance of control he has over his leakage has taken a swan dive out of the window.
How else is Tim supposed to act?!
This gorgeous hunk of a man may be a full head shorter than Tim, but somehow manages to be a walking wet dream. Tim bets that Jason could crush a watermelon with the size of those thighs. And God, Tim would do almost anything to be that fucking watermelon.
Why isn’t every girl in school swooning over him?!
How are none of the boys ?!
Suffice to say, Tim is positively leaking. Deciding that he needs to get his shit together if he ever wants to have a chance with this human embodiment of a Greek God. He does a quick onceover of Jason’s list before giving a curt nod.
“I’m good with that. Uh, gotta use the restroom real quick before we start.”
Tim runs to the bathroom before Jason can reply.
…
Jason raises an eyebrow at Tim’s escape and lifts his arm to quickly smell himself. And yeah, he’s a little musky, but it’s fucking humid outside. He just can’t seem to catch a goddamn break from this shit. Besides, this isn’t anywhere near as bad as he could smell without the fucking 20 billion step routine Bruce designed for him to deal with this rank-ass smell. He figures that if Tim is taking a quick bathroom break, he might as well freshen up too.
With that in mind, Jason grabs his small spray can of deodorant from the front pocket of his backpack and heads to the bathroom as well.
When Jason walks into the men’s restroom, he’s hit with the smell of straight up pussy. Like–instead of the usual smell of Febreze trying and failing to mask the smell of rank-shit, it’s like a bunch of lesbians decided to have a sweaty orgy in the men’s room. And yeah, Jason knows what a fucking pussy smells like–his brother is trans and he grew up right next to on 5th Street.
Now, Jason likes to say he’s the type of guy to mind his own fucking business (nevermind the fact that his father is a detective for Gotham PD), but he’s pretty sure the Men’s Room isn’t supposed to smell like vagina. He doubts the Women’s Room smells this much like five hours of straight up scissoring, so why the fuck does it smell like that in here? Why would lesbians even have an orgy in the library’s Men’s Room?
He surveys the stalls and frowns when it doesn’t seem like any of them are occupied. Tim’s shoes aren’t anywhere on the ground.
Whatever. Not his problem. Jason has no issues with pussy. Tim just better come back soon, wherever he is. They have a project to work on.
Jason takes a quick piss, washes his hands, and sprays himself with more deodorant before heading back out to work on the project.
…
Tim practically collapses on the toilet seat once Jason leaves the bathroom. He was cleaning himself up before he heard the bathroom door open and scrambled on the toilet seat, his heart pounding out of his chest. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea since he’d told Jason he was coming here, and Jason was probably looking for him, but he was already crouched on the toilet lid. It was too late.
Fuck.
Just as he’d finally cleaned all the slick from his legs, Jason’s scent wafted in along with his footsteps. The salty and musky kind that had Tim’s t-dick hardening almost immediately. He really needs to clean up and get back out there, but, Jesus Christ on a pogo stick. Not only did Jason look like he came right out of some dark fantasy novel earlier, but he had to come in smelling like that while Tim was trying to clean his pussy.
By the time Jason leaves after pissing (which Tim tried really hard not to listen to and failed) and spraying something that Tim couldn’t decipher, all of Tim’s efforts to clean himself have been washed away by slick.
Tim wants to take a nosedive right into the crook of Jason’s armpit. To suffocate himself in that musky, all-consuming scent. To run his tongue over each and every axillary hair that has absorbed Jason’s stink, letting the salty taste ferment in his mouth.
He can’t help it when his fingers drift to his engorged clit. Tim strokes it slowly, watching the hood move up and down against his small shaft, feeling the slick drip from his hole and into the toilet basin. The drip drip echoing throughout the Men’s Room is utterly obscene, and only serves to hasten Tim’s climb to orgasm.
Tim thinks about laying Jason down in the Men’s Room, right here in the library, and pulling off his shirt. Running his fingers over Jason’s muscled abdomen. He closes his eyes, savoring the image he’s concocting in his mind. Tim pushes a finger into his dripping cunt as he imagines tracing those delicious armpit hairs. Leaking into his pants when he feels Jason shudder under his touch.
Feeling Jason’s gaze settle on him like a weight.
Jason’s hair would be stuck to his forehead, drenched in sweat. Tim stifles a moan as he adds another finger. He thinks about straddling Jason’s arm, lining his cunt up against Jason’s pit. Letting his slick act as lube. Feeling the texture of Jason’s armpit hairs against his throbbing clit.
He pictures Jason looking at him with a lidded gaze, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of Tim pleasuring himself–using Jason as a toy. Maybe Jason would bite back a moan, shudder under the feeling of Tim’s clit brushing up against his underarm. Or maybe he’d be loud. Everyone in the library would hear Tim’s name echoing from Jason’s lips.
Tim would pick up speed as he felt his orgasm build. He’d rub faster and faster, crying out and squirting all over Jason’s underarm. They’d both be covered in copious amounts of slick by the time Tim finished. Maybe Jason would cum right in his pants, untouched, just from the image of Tim cumming all over his sweaty, hairy pit.
It’s with this thought that Tim cums, desperately trying to keep himself as quiet as possible. The squelching of his fingers against his vaginal walls is lewd, and all Tim can hear as the sound reverberates through the bathroom. He fucks himself through his orgasm, using his free hand to cover his mouth as he whimpers into it. If anyone were to walk in, there would be no question of what Tim is doing.
By the time Tim’s orgasm subsides, he finds that the toilet seat is covered in slick and cum and lord knows what else. He’s just lucky he had the forethought to take his pants off before fingering himself and having what was arguably the greatest orgasm of his life.
When he puts a slick-covered finger in his mouth to taste himself, Tim knows he’s at an unfathomable level of deranged perversion. God, what would Jason do if he found out? Tim doesn’t know if he would ever be able to look at himself in the mirror again.
Thankfully, no one walks into the bathroom, so there is little fanfare in terms of cleanup. After wiping as much slick off of the toilet seat as he can manage and washing his hands, Tim sprays on a bit of his Pink Champagne scented perfume to cover up the stink of his orgasm. And Axe body spray, just to be safe. It probably won’t help too much, in the end.
Tim simply prays that Jason has a fucked up nose.
As he leaves the bathroom, the shame of his actions isn’t strong enough to keep Tim from riding the high of that orgasm. He tries not to think about it too much, lest he get overly horny again from the mental image of riding Jason’s armpit.
…
Tim returns to the table with an apology. Jason has to stop himself from balking.
“I’m sorry,” he says, failing to meet Jason’s gaze. “I didn’t… there was a bathroom emergency.” Tim’s wince doesn’t go unnoticed. “I normally don’t run off like that, I swear.”
Wow. No one has ever put this much effort into lying straight to Jason’s face before. He’s almost impressed. Sure, being lied to sucks, but at least this kid cares enough about his feelings to lie to him.
Holy fuck when, did my standards get so low?
The answer doesn’t really matter. Jason’s just glad to get a sliver of this dude’s kindness, especially when he was such an asshole the other day, right in front of Mr. Styles.
Jason waves Tim off with a smile. “‘S all good. Let’s just get to work, yeah?”
Tim nods, a slight blush creeping up his pale cheeks. Jason can’t help but wonder if the kid’s aversion to Jason earlier wasn’t out of disdain or disgust. Well, it’s the obvious conclusion, but now that Jason thinks about it, the kid just seems real fucking shy. He can barely meet Jason’s eyes, and not in a “you stink get the fuck out of here” kind of way.
It doesn’t take long for Jason to notice that something’s off. A smell that wasn’t there before. He tries to mind his own business, he really does. He knows the consequences of sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.
That being said, Jason is well aware that he was always a precocious little scamp.
What can he say?
No matter how hard he tries, Jason will always be a nosy motherfucker, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
And when his table partner comes back smelling like the bathroom that a pussy bomb went off in (Jason feels bad for thinking it, but Tim really smells like straight up pussy right now) with some Axe body spray on top…
Well.
Now he’s curious.
Because there’s no way Tim could’ve picked up that scent just from being in the bathroom. This must be the original source. Tim must be the source of the pussy smell. But how the fuck does a guy smell so much like pussy? Why didn’t Jason see him in the bathroom?
And why the fuck did he think Axe body spray would solve his problem?
Jason knows he shouldn’t–especially if Tim has some kind of vendetta against him–but Jason endeavours to find out more about this boy. If anything, he should at least find out why this kid was so fucking opposed to working with him when he smells like that.
Wait–no-
Jason grimaces to himself. The pussy smell isn’t bad, necessarily, not like Jason’s body odor… but it’s weird. Enough to put most people off.
This is the mystery that plagues Jason’s mind as he tries to focus on the project. He and Tim work in silence for the most part, and the kid seems to come out of his shell a little. Hell, Jason swears Tim willingly made eye-contact with him at least once in the span of an hour. Jason can’t help but feel a little proud of his progress.
…
By the time they finish up at the library, Jason has made a complete 180 from his first interaction with Tim. And to be honest, Tim doesn’t really know what to make of it. Jason’s gone from being stoic and closed off to awkwardly trying to make friends. It’s a little weird, but Tim doesn’t really have any friends in his year. He sneaks a look at Jason, trying to breathe in his scent without making it painfully obvious.
Tim certainly won’t complain about Jason being his friend if he gets to munch on this eye-candy every day. And hey, maybe spending more time with Jason will help desensitize him to that scent, and he’ll have a better time focusing. Tim can’t really be friends with someone if he’s constantly running to the bathroom to jerk off and change his pad.
When Jason offers to meet up to work on the project again, Tim responds with a resolute yes.
When he gets home that evening, all he can think about is how he can’t wait to see Jason again.
And smell him.
…fuck.