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Timothy’s body isn’t cold, but it’s dropping in temperature the longer it stays lifeless. He’s paler than usual, the shadows under his eyes only seeming to darken as the seconds go by. His face is already stiffening from how long it has taken for Ra’s to get him to the Pit and get him cleaned up, but it’s important that he is done up properly for when he awakens.
Ra’s has cared for the boy himself, not wanting his peoples’ hands on him any longer than they need to be. He’s stripped his beloved of his suit and cleaned every fluid and contaminant from his skin, paying special attention to each wound to make sure nothing has been left behind. Timothy has grumbled in discomfort before about crawling from the Pit still dirty and feeling like he’s got glass under his knitted together skin. Even if they’ll be taking another shower soon after those lovely glacier eyes pop open, Ra’s has washed the boy inside and out.
Timothy is loose in the places that matter, though the face and chest are usually what stiffen first with bodies. Ra’s has laid him out on a pallet of pillows, blankets, and towels next to the Pit, making sure he’s comfortable even though he won’t appreciate it until after the fact. His hips are tilted up on a much stiffer pillow than the rest of the cushions his body rests on, legs parted invitingly, one of his thin hands resting on his stomach above his flaccid cock while the other rests palm up near his shoulder.
It’s their preferred position.
The older man slips between his beloved’s bruised thighs, stroking the skin from the outside in. His fingers slide wetly into where he’s cleaned the boy out, the lubricant left behind making the press easy. Timothy is always easy for him, even when they’re fighting, but like this he’s something else entirely. Ra’s adores him this pliant, and he’s nothing if not grateful for the fact that his beloved allows him to partake in that pliancy.
Within Timothy he is warmer, still untouched here by the cool air. Ra’s pulls his fingers free to coat his cock with that slickness for his own sake. Anything he does to the boy will heal in the Pit, but Ra’s isn’t going to go on and chafe his dick just to get off faster. No, he has to take his time as it’s not often Timothy loses his grasp on life so fully.
Pressing his cock into his beloved will never get old, and if the boy weren’t so strong willed and determined — things that Ra’s loves about him and wouldn’t actually change for the world — then the demon’s head would simply keep Timothy on his lap day in and day out as a dedicated cockwarmer. He’s played with voicing the idea, but Timothy allows him to get away with so many sexual transgressions already that Ra’s has been trying to draw the boy’s own fantasies from his lips before admitting more of his own. He’s been close to a breakthrough for a while now, actually, and he suspects that the lack of impulse control from the Pit might even give him the edge he needs to draw admissions from Timothy’s lips without the boy’s sense of shame and embarrassment getting in the way.
The body beneath him doesn’t react to the intrusion, of course. There is no shiver of anticipation, there’s no fluttering of eyelids, there’s no low moan as Tim’s thighs tighten around him. Timothy is simply limp, a vessel for Ra’s’ affection.
A moan rattles from Ra's own chest as he begins to roll his hips into his lover, his forehead falling against the unmoving span of the boy’s chest as he works his hips. One of his hands — the wet one — curls around the softened musculature of the boy’s thigh, fingers digging into one of the bruises there almost harshly in a way that would usually have Timothy keening high in his throat and fisting Ra’s’ hair in retaliation. His other hand finds Timothy’s where it rests on the silks next to his shoulder, Ra’s’ much larger fingers sliding through Timothy’s to grip him tightly.
The touching of their hands has always been important, even if it is something that the boy beneath him has never noticed. Ever since the first time they slept with each other, Timothy has reached for Ra’s’ hands. He’s knitted their fingers together, or caressed the back of Ra’s hand, or even wrapped his hand completely around the older man’s just to drag his fingers to Timothy’s mouth to muffle his sounds.
So, with Timothy unable to grab his hand Ra’s must do it himself. He presses their palms tightly together, his over-hot skin starting to warm the coldness of Tim’s hand.
It doesn’t take long for Ra’s to climax for the first time, spilling within his beloved over the course of several deep thrusts. Timothy likes the feeling of it inside of him, something that Ra’s has come to notice on his own without the boy’s admission. He notices many things about Timothy, things no one else does, including the fact that Timothy always comes out of the Pit better when he’s being held.
Ra’s gathers the limp form of his lover against his chest once he’s recovered from his orgasm enough to use his strength. He doesn’t withdraw from Timothy, unwilling to let any precious bit of his cum leak out of the boy before Timothy is awake to appreciate it. The Lazarus accepts them both, familiar with them, her green waters caressing them as if they are coming home — in a lot of ways they are.
He has to adjust his grip on Timothy once he’s stepped in up to his waist. Tightening a hand around the boy’s hip, he grasps both spindly wrists and presses them against his beloved’s chest. He keeps pressure there, uses the steady flow of the water to help foster his thrusts as he fucks Timothy for the second time, watching the Lazarus caress the boy’s peaceful features where he rests just under the surface.
Timothy heals in increments. It’s hard to tell his bruises are going with the shade of the water, but the other wounds knitting together are obvious and Ra’s tracks them as he uses his hold to make love to the boy. Ra’s shows his love in hundreds of ways, but the Lazarus Pit can only show her love in this one. She brings Tim back to life slowly but surely under Ra’s’ hands, granting him the gift of his beloved’s eternal company.
The boy tightens around him before he even takes his first breaths, muscles tensing and twitching, cock stirring to life. The unconscious reactions of his body are always the first step and Ra’s has to push harder, keep him under for longer even as his body begins to thrash and his legs lock around the older man’s hips. If he brings Timothy to the surface before his brain function comes back to him, before he starts breathing and blinking on his own, he’ll have to start the process all over again.
After all, Ra’s can’t afford a braindead detective; that’s most of the boy’s allure.
He waits, tests his patience by changing the speed and rhythm of his thrusts to stave his second orgasm off until Timothy is fully thrashing under the waters of the Lazarus. Finally, when the boy’s eyes fly open and his mouth gasps for air beneath the surface, Ra’s drags him up by his wrists until they come around his neck. Timothy’s hands find purchase clawing at the back of his neck as he clings to the man. With the boy supporting some of his own weight Ra’s is able to wrap his arms completely around him, encompassing him in the safety of his hold as he recovers from the Pit.
“How long? How long?” Timothy rasps between coughs and wheezes, folding himself tighter against Ra’s as the man begins to fuck him with fervor, the waters of the Lazarus splashing around them with their movements.
“Four hours,” Ra’s breathes, right on the precipice. “I have men following your leads.”
Timothy’s thighs tighten around him, wet fingers catching in Ra’s’ dry hair as a wrecked laugh vibrates through his small form. “You could’ve waited a little longer.”
Ra’s crashes into his second orgasm much like Timothy had crashed into his second — fifth really, but who’s counting — life. The newly resurrected boy isn’t far behind him.