Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12867258.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Titans_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Dick_Grayson/Slade_Wilson
  Character:
      Dick_Grayson, Robin_(DCU), Slade_Wilson
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Character_Death, Praise_Kink, Humiliation,
      Begging, Underage_Sex, Size_Difference, Age_Difference, Smut, author
      regrets_everything
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-11-30 Words: 7925
****** Good Little Bird ******
by HK44
Summary
     Robin had been Slade's apprentice for a few months now. He was
     getting used to committing crimes, being bad, horrifying his friends
     and even himself.
     It was never supposed to get to this point.
Notes
     So my friend Metal gave me a bunch of eps from the original Teen
     Titans to watch since I was having difficulty watching the show on my
     own and I really enjoyed the Apprentice ones! So, I wrote a fic-fic
     based in that ep.
     Please note that unlike my previous fics, this one includes the
     graphic rape of an underage child and a lot of terrible
     rationalization of it happening. If you cannot handle that, please
     feel free to not read the fic! I cannot stress how deeply I do not
     want to cause anyone’s discomfort so if you know you cannot handle
     that, I seriously suggest you don’t read. It is literally just
     shameless porn because I am?? terrible.
See the end of the work for more notes
“If they get in your way again,” Slade warned as Robin pounded up the steps to
the rooftop, “you are to kill them.”
Robin grit his teeth. “But-”
“I gave you that knife for a reason, Robin. Use it.” Slade’s voice turned
malicious. “Or I will make them suffer.”
Robin cleared the staircase and kicked open the door. He prayed to God that his
friends were still stuck downstairs, fighting off whatever beast he’d unlocked
from a cage in his haste to escape without hurting them. None of the creatures
locked inside were particularly dangerous or of any real use.
Once Slade had realized that, he called the mission off.
Then the Titans came barreling in out of nowhere and ruined Robin’s scot-free
night of no crime.
Not that he could blame them.
For the last few months, they’d been battling heavy against his each other.
They’d begged him to let them know why he’d changed sides. One time, he’d
almost confessed.
Until a shock of blinding pain had curdled through Raven and almost killed her.
No.
This was safer. Just fighting them all and pretending he was evil,pretending
he’d found better things on the side of crime.
Pretending he liked being Slade’s minion.
That thought took him over, blanketing his focus for the quickest second that
he almost didn’t see the green bird swoop down to snap at him. He ducked,
skirting backwards.
Beast Boy transformed in front of him. “Come on, Robin. I don’t want to hurt
you! What’s going on?”
Robin clenched his teeth tighter, shocked he hadn’t already ground them into
dust. “Get out of the way!” he ordered.
Slade’s voice crackled in his ear. “Kill him, Robin.”
Robin shook, but unsheathed the knife from his belt. It was a dagger, with
Slade’s symbol burned into one side of the hilt, Robin’s tell-a-tale R burned
onto the other. The blade was sliver, shimmered even in the low light. It’d
been a gift.
The moment he’d opened the case, Robin had immediately missed the days of
receiving vouchers for free hugs and flights around the city. At least those
didn’t come with the use for murder.
He clenched his hand over the hilt of the knife and narrowed his eyes. “I said
step aside.”
Beast Boy’s eyes flittered from the knife to Robin’s face. His mouth pulled
down.
“Robin-”
Both their voices, Slade’s and Beast Boy’s, chorused through Robin’s head.
Beast Boy’s was miserable, worried, concerned. Slade’s was vindictive, angry.
Demanding.
Robin shot forward.
“Robin!” Beast Boy said again. He ducked under Robin’s arm and shifted out of
the way of the knife. His eyes were wide, terrified.
Robin’s heart dropped.
He never wanted to frighten his friends, not after the first time.
He swung his knife at Beast Boy’s face once more, twisting his body enough that
he could miss with relative ease but still make it seem like he wanted to
murder Beast Boy, like he was still trying. Beast Boy jerked out of the way,
turning into a bear and throwing his claws at Robin’s face but deflected at the
last moment when Robin didn’t move out of the way and just charged him once
more.
Where were the others? If someone else just showed up, he could run away,
pretend he was tired, pretend he couldn’t fight them all off after so much time
wearing into his muscles.
Of course, Slade would be disappointed but-
But they wouldn’t suffer and Robin, at best, would only be mildly punished.
Like a heavenly blessing, Starfire dropped down from the sky, smackdab between
Robin and Beast Boy.
He could’ve sobbed with relief if acting like he didn’t care, like he’d moved
onto bigger and badder things wasn’t so important to the situation.
“Robin!” Starfire said, the glow in her eyes dimming. “I urge you to stop
this!”
Final stance, Robin thought. Pretend to try and hit her then bolt.
He readied the knife in his grip, eyes narrowing. “Never!” he yelled, charging
at her.
His intention was to jump at her at the last possible moment, just when her
shields were up, evade her stance by flipping over her head and landing on the
very edge of the roof before grapple-hooking off into the distance. Simple.
Easy peasy.
Except the roof was slick with rain from the afternoon and a puddle loomed
between them, unseen in the lack of light.
His foot hit the water right before his jump. He slipped.
Starfire’s eyes widened, and she ducked out of his way, never intending to harm
him, never wanting to, and Robin’s knife sank into Beast Boy’s chest like the
mutated boy was made of butter.
A stab of relief almost slid through Robin. The knife hadn’t hit anything too
major, too off to the side. He’d be okay, he’d-
Feet teetering at the very edge of the building, Robin’s weight gave in and he
jerked back too slow, not fast enough. Beast Boy’s eyes glinted low, just for a
second. Fear, anguish, pain, betrayal stared back at Robin. Robin’s weight had
fallen on him too much. He stumbled back once, his hand to the hole too far off
to the side of his chest.
It wasn’t enough to kill him, Robin thought rapidly, even as Beast Boy’s ankles
hit the edge of the roof.
It wasn’t-
Beast Boy’s foot slipped.
Robin’s heart dropped.
And Starfire screamed.
He was out of their sight before Robin could even begin to process what had
happened. Starfire hovered beside him, close enough that he could’ve cut her
right then and there. Her eyes were wide, her mouth opened, still caught in a
screech that had long since silenced, cut off it’s in own horror.
Then she vanished in a flash of green, shouting, “BEAST BOY.”
The thud that sounded right after and Starfire’s resulting sob was far too
familiar for Robin’s tastes.
His breaths shook.
He took a step forward.
No.
No.
His eyes brimmed, hot and heavy. The sight loomed in his head, too familiar,
too similar.
Too close for comfort.
Again.
Again, he’d caused something, something bad, awful.
Death.
He took a step back. His hand shook violently, the knife rattling in his grip.
Starfire shot up in front of him, Beast Boy’s broken body cradled close to her
chest. Without acknowledging Robin’s presence, she floated away and laid Beast
Boy on the rooftop’s surface, out of the light.
“BB?” Cyborg whispered a few yards away.
Raven was beside him, hovering low. She dropped to her feet with a sudden thud.
Her focus strained hard on Beast Boy’s corpse.
“Robin,” Starfire began slowly as she rose, turning to face him. Her eyes were
lit up, glowing a brighter green than he’d ever seen. Her voice shook. “You are
no longer my friend!”
He barely had enough time to defend himself.
“You did this?” Cyborg shouted. His cannon shifted into place on his arm, the
clunking of his gears sounding just over the grunt Robin heaved himself over
Starfire’s charge and landed a few feet away. A blast hit just in front his
feet.
Robin grunted, ducking under Starfire’s bolts and jumping onto the ledge of the
building.
He shot his grappling hook out.  It hit the ledge of the next building over and
he heaved himself over. An inky blackness curdled over the string, stretching
high on to the hook itself. He dropped, his grip sliding thick against the
rope, before he finally let go, slid out into a roll and ran off into the
darkness of the night.
-
Robin stood outside the door. It was cleverly concealed, looking like another
entrance to the pristine building that it sat embedded in. But rather than lead
forward, it travelled down, to a hidden basement level.
The door was locked to the outsiders, with a keycard lock beside it and a
dumpster nearby.
When he’d have free time, he’d sit on the steps that lead down and listen to
people talk outside through the door. It seemed most, people who actually
worked there, just thought it a misplaced door. Accidentally built into the
building’s concrete. Some thought it was another exit, for the janitor’s or
security detail or in the case of a fire.
Dropping his shoulders from where they were tensed up, bunched high and tight,
he swiped his keycard through the lock. He swung the door open and hopped down
to the first step. Each step down felt like a hollow thump to his chest.
Knocking everything that made him human right out of his body.
He stilled at the final step. Before him, he could see the hazy light of
Slade’s computer systems glow low around the equipment scattered meticulously
around the room.
He walked further inside, his mind reeling with fear. In his hand, the knife
was still gripped tight.
Slade thought he used it intentionally. And even if he didn’t, even if he knew
it was an accident, he’d still be pleased.
Robin did as he wanted.
His gut curled then relaxed. Whenever Robin did as instructed, and performed
well, he was rewarded. Small things. Like getting to watch his friends through
Slade’s a million cameras. Getting time to himself.
The occasional small present.
Robin’s gut curled again.
The knife had been a present.
Finally behind him, Robin froze. Slade’s chair creaked as he spun around to
face him, and Robin’s heart jumped into this throat as his stomach churned,
terrified and upset. Slade crossed his leg over his thigh. The twisted grin he
likely wore behind the mask snaked at Robin’s mind. He could almost feel it,
almost see it, grindingat him. Malicious. Violent,
Wanting.
He dropped the knife to the ground.
Hollowly, he could hear it clang against the metal flooring.
“Now, now, Robin,” Slade’s voice teased at him. “Don’t make a mess.”
Swallowing thickly, Robin bent over and picked the knife up. His foot moving at
a snail’s pace, he walked over to Slade’s armory and gently placed the knife in
it’s case. Closing the case, he locked it shut with a snap.
Behind him, the wheels on Slade’s chair squeaked.
Robin’s heart dropped to his stomach.
“Robin.” Slade’s voice was languid. “Come here.”
Without permission, Robin’s feet obeyed. Slade was still in his chair, one hand
gripping his thigh. Robin stopped in front of him. The hollowness spread from
his chest to his mind, filling him up with cotton fuzz as though he were a toy.
The way Slade used him sometimes sure made him feel like one, if anything.
Slade’s eye dragged over him then he gestured loosely at Robin. “Strip.”
Robin shuddered at the word, the tone inflicted on it sending speckles of cold
down his back. So that’s what Slade wanted to do. He must’ve noticed Robin’s
hesitance and wasn’t pleased by it. That, or, somewhere in that fucked up mind
of his, Slade actually thought this was something Robin would enjoy. It
wouldn’t have been the first time, he’d “rewarded” Robin with something akin to
punishment.
Robin shifted out of the suit. Slowly, he folded it over, placing the suit off
to the side with the armour plating left on top. His fingers slid over his
mask, feather-light, and drew up to the strap that kept it on.
“No,” Slade’s voice cut in before he could do anything. Slade’s eye bore into
him. “Keep it on.”
Robin dropped his arms dully and walked back over. The metal flooring was cold,
even to his calloused feet. Slade’s legs were spread. Without waiting for a
command, Robin dropped to his knees.
Slade’s fingers curved over the bottom of his chin, pulling his faceup with a
tight grip. “Don’t look so upset, Robin. You did well. This is your reward.” He
slid his fingers up the side of Robin’s face and through his hair, pulling on
the ends. Robin’s breath hitched. “You do want your reward, don’t you?”
Robin grit his teeth. “Yes,” he heaved out.
Pain spiked down Robin’s neck as Slade’s fingers tightened. “Good.”
Slade removed his hand from Robin’s hair. He stood up from his chair. Robin
flinched as the sound of Slade unzipping his pants curdled through the air.
Slade’s hand slipped back into his hair, guiding his head forward.
Robin winced when Slade’s cock nudged against his lips.
For a moment, he wanted to fight it.
Then he opened his mouth and let Slade slide in.
Slade was always gentle until he thought Robin had adjusted well enough and
started to fuck his mouth thoroughly. Which usually happened within minutes, if
not seconds. Slade’s patience wore thin when it came to Robin and his mouth.
So, it was a surprise when two minutes slipped by in squelching silence and
Slade’s hand was still gently guiding Robin’s head back and forth. He hadn’t
even bothered pushing all the way into Robin’s mouth. Instead, he was propped
halfway into Robin’s mouth and seemed to have no urge to go any deeper, at
least not yet.
Robin let his eyes fall shut, fisting his own hands. At the pit of his stomach,
warmth stirred.
His eyes snapped open, Slade’s front sliding closer to him before shifting
away.
No, no, no, he thought quickly. The voice in his head slurred the word together
faster and faster as the heat deepened.
Pinned between his legs, he could feel his cock give a whimpering twitch.
Without thought, he pushed his hands up to Slade’s waist, wanting to push off
and get as far away from him and these feelings as he could. Slade gave a low
growl in return, grabbing Robin’s hands with his free one and throwing them
down. Robin shuddered as Slade’s hand returned to his hair. He fisted his hands
at his side.
He shouldn’t have done that.
His mouth stretched obscenely over the full length of Slade’s cock. Saliva
dripped from the corners of his mouth. Harsh, Slade grabbed at his hair,
yanking him forward. Robin choked. His hands snapped up, pushing at Slade’s
waist. Slade’s gloved hand tightened in his hair, forcing Robin ever further
onto his cock. It pushed at the back of his throat and no amount of Robin’s
resistance made it stop.
Robin’s stomach twisted.
Slade was big and he always felt even bigger in Robin’s mouth. He tasted bitter
against Robin’s tongue, oozing amounts of pre-come into Robin’s mouth. He had
no choice but to swallow it all down. Slade growled appreciatively, his hips
working his cock back and forth into Robin’s mouth, edging to the limits of his
throat.
When he was younger, Robin used to think his lack of a gag reflex was a good
thing. It made going around the smellier parts of the world a lot of easier.
Now he wished he had one.
Something told him Slade would be less inclined to be as harsh if Robin vomited
all over him.
His knees ached against the floor, the thin lining of his suit doing nothing to
cushion his bruising skin. His jaw burned. Eyes watering, he choked for the
millionth time, struggling weakly to shove Slade away. Acidic embarrassment was
curdling hot in his stomach.
“Good, Robin,” Slade murmured. Robin shivered, Slade’s voice washing over him
like a cold wave. “Just like that.”
He could barely breathe. Every thrust had him choking, trying to exhale from
his mouth versus his nose. His vision slipped for a second.
He hurt.
Finally, Slade slid out of his mouth. Robin gasped, coughing. The taste of
Slade’s come lingered thick in his mouth.
It always did.
Slade stood slowly. He didn’t seem the least bit affected, breaths controlled,
body relaxed. His utility belt clattered to the floor. Robin jerked at the
noise. His instincts kicked in, the urge to run, to flee, to get away screaming
at him but Slade grabbed the top of his head again.
Defiant, Robin grit his teeth together. His lips pressed firm together, hot and
pained. Slade’s fingers dug into his jaw.
“Now, now, Robin.” Slade’s thumb slid between his lips. “You wouldn’t want more
of your friends to perish because of your foolishness, would you?”
Robin whimpered. Starfire, Cyborg and Raven flushed to his mind, Beast Boy’s
body, broken and bloodied between them. That was why he was here, right? To
protect them. To save them.
Beast Boy echoed once more to the forefront of his mind. Starfire, Cyborg and
Raven followed suit, their bodies just as broken, just as bloodied as BB’s was.
Just as dead.
Robin has already killed one friend. He didn’t want to destroy the rest.
He relaxed his jaw and let Slade slick his fingers over his tongue.
“Good boy, Robin.” Slade replaced his fingers with his cock once more.
As soon as Slade’s cock filled his mouth, the heat building in his stomach
intensified. The urge to touch himself itched under his skin but he ignored it,
locking his arms behind his back. Slade was being gentle again, his breath
hitching softly into the air.
Robin struggled not to focus on the sensations. In the past, when Slade used
him like this, sliding out of his own head was the best-case scenario. It
stopped him from getting hard.
It stopped him from remembering the way Slade felt.
In the beginning, once he’d realized there was no way to escape it, no way to
stop Slade from doing what he wanted with him, Robin found it a relief and so,
so easy to make happen.
But ever since Slade had jerked him off for the first time months ago, it was
slowly becoming more and more difficult to dissociate from himself. Robin tried
his best not to think about it or why Slade touching him like that might’ve
stopped him from being able to dissociate properly.
He tried not to think about how used to the sensation of Slade filling his
mouth he’d become, as well.
Every time he did…
He shuddered as Slade let out a low groan, pulling fully from Robin’s mouth.
Saliva and pre-come slicked over Robin’s cheek as Slade’s cock bumped against
the side of his face. An annoyed noise burred from the back of his throat. He
turned his face away from it.
Slade hadn’t come yet.
Which meant…
Robin shivered as Slade’s hand tightened in his hair, pulling him into a stand.
Which meant he wanted Robin’s ass.
Robin’s cock ached between his legs at the thought. Slade pulled him to his
preferred corner for fucking Robin’s ass. It was a thin foam mat thrown out,
upon which Robin was allowed to sleep.
When he’d been good.
After a few harsh nights sleeping on the cold sullen floors, curling up on the
mat felt like heaven.
That feeling had been ripped apart the moment Slade used him there.
Regrettably, Robin considered as Slade forced him down onto the mat, ass up,
just like he preferred, that feeling was slowly coming back.
And Robin did not like thinking why that was.
Lube slid down the crack of his ass, wet and slick. Slade’s thick fingers
rubbed around Robin’s rim, soft. Normally, he forced right into him, fucked him
open quickly and then pounded him like a man starved. Now he was being gentle.
The sensation and the thoughts worked at Robin’s head, making him more and more
confused than he already was. Between his legs, his cock leaked, aching hard as
Slade ran his thumb over the edge of Robin’s rim, the digit almost sliding into
him.
It felt… nice.
And he knew it wasn’t supposed to. He knew that.
But the horrifying part, the part that he couldn’t nudge out of his mind, was
that he enjoyed it. Was that a small part of him liked what was happening and
had wanted it for a long, long time.
Shame stuttered down his throat but he couldn’t stop his thoughts as Slade slid
his fingers into his ass gingerly. And Robin couldn’t help imagining they were
different fingers. A different man. A different presence.
He could lie, he could pretend he left for nobler reasons, wanting to become
known as something other than a flimsy sidekick but…
God, Batman was everything to Robin. He wanted nothing more than to please him,
do as he wished, be good. Their training sessions, the close contact, the heat,
the friction, left Robin all too on-edge the older he got, the more puberty
began to awake hormones in him.
It’d been near embarrassing the session they’d had months before he left.
He’d been ridiculously hard from being thrown around, healing bruises still
aching where Batman would grip him and it hadn’t been intentional. Half his
focus had been trained on stopping himself from showing, trying to calm down
without Batman knowing and then he’d been pinned down, unable to break free
with Batman gritting that he needed to learn, needed to figure out how to break
out of the grasp and all of it had gone to hell.
He couldn’t stop blushing.
Couldn’t stop the groan that slid from his mouth.
Batman had called it off the moment he realized Robin was otherwise
incapacitated, but Robin hadn’t wanted that. In the deep recess of his mind as
he’d stalked off to his room to cool down, he’d wished for something more,
something forbidden.
His dark eyes growing darker as he’d tear down Robin’s pants and just used him,
got him off and then began the whole process again.
And those thoughts wouldn’t vanish.
They ached into his mind, around his head for hours.
Robin had started flaunting himself around, had begun to work out their
positions during training so that just maybe something would happen. But all
the while he denied it to himself, refused to admit it when the thoughts reared
up in the midst of his loneliness and just pretended.
It was when he’d gotten off to them for the millionth time, his cock wilting as
his orgasm faded, the thought of Batman, pinning him down and fucking him like
some kind of toy still bright and heavy in his head, that he decided to go.
He combined it with other reasons. Needing to become a hero to himself, needing
to see what opportunities awaited him outside of Gotham, outside of Batman and
his brash of rogues.
Anything so that he wouldn’t have to deal with Batman cornering him, knowing
that he was lying and wanting to the truth. And part of him had hoped that
maybe he would’ve seen it anyway, his grip tight on Robin’s arm, body just a
little too close to be fatherly and he’d demand the truth.
Robin would offer it.
Things would happen.
Shameful, dirty things.
But it didn’t. He let Robin leave and never asked for him to come back.
That didn’t mean Robin didn’t think of him, didn’t think of him in the foulest
of ways, didn’t still want something to happen between them.
“Robin,” Slade hissed. His wet fingers slid up the crack of Robin’s ass,
tapping up his spine. He pressed his thumb hard to the small of Robin’s back,
the pressure aching. “Are you with me?”
Robin trembled under the touch but nodded.
Slade did not approve when Robin fell into his own thoughts.
Robin had a dark feeling that Slade knew who his thoughts would turn to and
didn’t like the idea of someone else, someone who hadn’t been present in
Robin’s life in months, showing him up.
Giving a satisfied hum, Slade slipped his fingers right back into Robin’s ass,
scissoring him open like nothing. He’d used Robin enough times and often enough
that there was nothing stopping him anymore. Robin always felt open.
Even if Slade always murmured about how perfectly tight he was.
Robin struggled to keep his mouth shut. Internally he fought against how good
the feeling of being made loose and looser was and the groans were just
bubbling up his throat, ready to spill out like a violent confession.
Slade rubbed softly against Robin’s prostate, one slow easy drag, and Robin
couldn’t help the desperate whine that spilled from his lips. As Slade laughed
low to Robin’s need, his fingers dragged against his prostate once more. Robin
shook.
Fuck, he was hard.
Low in his stomach, he was burning with anticipation.
Slade never took this long. Why was he screwing around now?
But no, Slade was fingering into Robin like he wanted him more open than he
already was. Instead of sliding in his cock, he slid in another finger,
spreading the three digits and moving them slower than thought possible.
And all the while Robin was aching. He dropped to his chest, barely braced up
on his forearms. Slade let out a low hum of approval that sent shocks through
Robin’s chest, barreling down into his stomach.
“Are you aching, Robin?” He jabbed at Robin’s prostate. Robin trembled,
grasping at the mat for a lifeline. Behind him, he could hear Slade shift until
he body was bent low over Robin’s, fingers still deep in Robin’s ass, and his
voice curled over Robin’s ear like a damp blanket. “How badly do you need it?”
Robin grit hit teeth. Still, he couldn’t stop from whining low at the back of
his throat as Slade’s cock bumped against his inner thigh. Slade chuckled low.
But he didn’t tease Robin any further.
Instead he pulled away, his fingers slucking out of Robin’s ass. He was gone,
shifting noises sliding behind Robin. The press of his cock to the rim of
Robin’s ass had Robin shivering. His fingers clenched against the mat.
Slade didn’t fuck into him right away. He slid his cock over Robin’s hole, his
voice hitching. Robin bit his lip, ready, ready, so ready. His arms shook from
need.
And then Slade finally slipped right into him.
Robin couldn’t help his groan, the way he arched himself up, sliding back
against Slade’s cock. It filled him just right, thick.
Slade’s hands gripped his waist, sliding down to grip at his hair. It was a
loose touch, gentle, soft.
Exactly what Robin had desired, had wanted for years.
Someone big, pushing him down and fucking him slow, filling him up nice and
thick. If he imagined well enough, he could pretend he was in the Cave, that
Batman’s hands were holding him, his cock sliding into him, his voice groaning
low, whispering, “Robin” like he was a lover, not a son.
Not a child.
Those thoughts curling around his head, he pushed back at Slade, wanting more,
needing more. To be held rougher, to be forced. Anything to mimic the sick
fantasies he’d gotten off to, he tried to convince himself.
Truth was, he just wanted to be used again.
The way Slade fucked him every other time was rough, uncaring, brutal.
And Robin enjoyed it.
As much as he’d always dwelled on the idea of Batman treating him soft, it
wasn’t in sex, it was always in love. In dates to the movies, to restaurants.
In smiles.
Not sex.
No, Robin wanted to be thrown around when it came to that. Treated rough and
hear Batman’s low growl that always got his blood boiling, always got him hot.
And as much as he hated it, Slade filled the role quite perfectly.
And it was killing him that Slade wasn’t filling the role now. If this was
supposed to be some kind of reward, he had no idea why or how. He was pretty
sure, despite his best attempts, his enjoyment of Slade fucking him had been
clear, at least for the last few weeks.
This was just torture.
Slade’s hand tightened in his hair. “Slow, Robin. No need to rush.” Robin just
let out a low whine, pushing his hips backwards. Slade’s hand only tightened.
“Is there something you want?”
Robin grit his teeth and stopped pushing back, stilling.
Yeah, he wanted to be fucked, wanting Slade to just hurry up and pin him down,
use him until the throb in Robin’s cock was released in one fantastic orgasm.
But there was no way he was ever admitting that to Slade.
Removing his hand from Robin’s hair, Slade slid his fingers over the dip of
Robin’s spine. He thumbed at the base of Robin’s back, his hips working himself
into Robin deeper and deeper until Robin felt ridiculously full, Slade sliding
into him so damn deep.
Robin bit back a groan, squeezing his eyes closed. He pressed his cheek to the
mat, breathing hard. Slade stilled. His pelvis was pressed against Robin’s
thigh, every inching of his cock stretching Robin so wide, he knew he’d feel it
for weeks.
When Slade slid back, the sound was wet. As Slade slid back into him, Robin
shuddered. Not out of disgust, but out of sensation. He felt so loose, so open,
so wet.
Just ready for anyone willing to push him down and fuck into him.
And Slade slid in so slow it was driving him mad. He was too on edge, his
senses working overtime. He could feel every thrust, every inch of Slade’s cock
as it pervaded into him at a snail’s pace. He could hear every slick sluff and
slap of Slade pushing in and pulling out, the noise wet in the air.
It thundered in his head, the otherwise silent room feeling too open.
He was so exposed, stripped down to nothing but his mask, on display for Slade
and anyone who could’ve walked in.
It felt shameful.
But the feeling had his toes and gut curling in delight.
Slade pulled out of him, manhandling him over to his back. His hand smothered
over Robin’s face, covering his eyes and sending him into darkness. Protests
fell to his lips. They slid off his tongue, half-formed and upset, only to turn
into jagged moans as Slade slid right back into him, fitting like he was meant
to be there.
Robin’s thoughts slurred together until he could only form one coherent
thought.
He liked it.
He liked it.
A creak sounded over Slade’s low grunt. His left hand remained splayed over
Robin’s eyes as his right one gripped Robin’s hip tightly. The soft material of
his shirt brushed over Robin’s bare. Slade’s tongue slid over the edge of
Robin’s jaw before ploughing into his mouth. Robin groaned into Slade’s mouth.
This was new.
His stomach curdled. His mind wasn’t sure where to place it in the hierarchy of
pleasures but there was something ginger about the way Slade kissed him, the
way his stubble rubbed up against Robin’s jaw. It felt familiar, soothing
almost.
It wasn’t.
But Robin had spent enough times dreaming about the exact sensation, the
slippery touch of tongues, the softness in the motions, the rough grind of day
old stubble against his skin, that it felt right.
Even if it wasn’t the right person.
Slade’s hips kept worked slowly back and forth. Robin still couldn’t figure if
he was trying to savour the moment or if he was just trying to torture Robin
even more.
His cock ached painfully as it pressed up into Slade’s abdomen, leaking
pitifully. The pressure was almost pleasurable but, God, it wasn’t enough. Not
enough friction, not enough motion to capsize on the feelings and heat swirling
around his stomach.
Sucking once on Robin’s tongue, Slade’s right hand vanished from his waist, the
man shoving hard into Robin and stilling there. Another creak sounded. He
pulled his hand away from Robin’s eyes.
Robin stared at up at him. His mask had fallen off on one side, brushing over
his cheeks. He blinked rapidly, eyes warm and lashes wet. His body felt too on
edge, burning.
Without thinking, he slid back against Slade, struggling to find a way to get
off. Slade gripped his waist, thumbs pressing deep into the dips of his
hipbones, the pain near bruising. Robin stopped, swallowing thickly.
Slade regarded him over.
Then, without much a warning, he roughly pulled out of Robin and grabbed the
back of his hair.
Stumbling to a stand, Robin hissed as Slade pulled him along towards the
screens, uncaringly, his grip tightening harder and harder until he threw Robin
forward. The keypads and switches hit his back. They dug into his skin like a
bed of scattered Lego toys. Slade didn’t seem to care, not bothering to chide
Robin’s insistent squirming.
Instead, he shoved his hand against Robin’s stomach, pushing the boy deeper
into the keypads. The light of the screens flickered on overhead, casting Slade
in an eerie glow against the stark blackness of the room.
His fingers slid over the side of Robin’s face softly. Lower, his cock was
pushing against Robin’s ass, marking his thighs wetly.
A soft chuckle slid through his mask as he fixed Robin’s mask up.
He spread open Robin’s legs, gazing down as though admiring his prize. His
fingers penetrated Robin again. Moaning, Robin dropped his head back. Pleasure
spiked through him tenfold. He pushed back against the fingers, almost sobbing
when Slade resisted and pulled away.
“Now, now, Robin,” he mused, voice curling around Robin’s head like a noose.
“We wouldn’t want you spoiling your reward too early, now would we?”
His eyes fluttered. The light of the screens had pained him.
Reward?
How was this a rew-
Slade slid into him, deeper than ever before and reaching places Robin was sure
he’d never been able to touch himself. The motion, fluid and powerfully,
pressed right into his prostate. He shouted, gasping. Aching, he twisted,
trying to get Slade to move.
Slade had him near the edge of the control panel, his legs pushed up and spread
debauchedly, knees hovering close over his face. The angle was perfect, Slade
able to piston out of him with relative ease, fucking deep into Robin’s ass and
filling him up in the most wonderful of ways.
Even so, Robin’s cock throbbed painfully. Every jab to his prostate just sent a
shiver of pleasure down his spine. Warmth pooled low in his stomach, burning
hotter and hotter. He threw his head back, moaning abashedly.
Humiliation burned inside his throat. Batman would be ashamed of him. Spread
out stark naked in front of a villain, being used like a toy and enjoying it to
his body’s content, to his heart’s content.  This was the kind of act he’d been
taught to stop, taught to end before it could even begin! And here he was,
enjoying it. Like he didn’t know it was wrong. And God, he knew it was wrong
but the twist of Slade’s cock deep inside of him had him reeling in bouts of
pleasure he knew he’d never find from his own fingers.
Tears blinked damp against his lashes.
He felt so terrible.
Slade groaned low. “Are you- ngh, enjoying yourself, Robin?” he asked, rubbing
his thumb over Robin’s bare thigh.
Robin’s voice slurred as it fell out of his mouth, needy and unhinged. “Yes,
yes.”
Slade hummed. His mask gleamed in the light. Moving faster, he leaned down, the
cool touch of his mask brushing up against Robin’s heated cheek. “Perfect
little-” He rammed against Robin’s prostate, sending sharp shocks fluttering up
Robin’s spine like a crashing train. “-slut.”
Robin shuddered, coming hard with an almost silent shout. He gasped as Slade
kept moving, too sensitive to stomach another round and too blown out of his
mind to accept the concept of stopping.
It was shameful thought to think.
That he didn’t want to end.
That he wanted Slade to keep going, to come inside of him.
Beast Boy’s body slithered back up to the forefront of his thoughts like a
shame-filled blockade. Robin whimpered. He squeezed his eyes shut but did
nothing. Remained where he laid as Slade shifted him to his side. The pain in
his back and arms eased as he flipped over to his side, his hips digging into
the buttons.
Pushing his leg back into a bend, Slade gazed down at where Robin’s hole easily
accepted his cock, laughing low as Robin hissed from the sharp sensations. He
slid in two more fingers.
Robin’s eyes snapped open, legs instinctively falling straight but Slade just
tightened his grip on Robin’s ankle and kept going. The weight of his body
leaned against Robin’s trapped leg.
His vision blurred together as heat began pooling back low in his stomach.
There was no way Slade was trying to-
Slade’s fingers prodded alongside his cock, giving sharp slow thrusts against
Robin’s already abused prostate. Sobbing gasps heaved from his throat in
response. Slade’s thrusts eased harder and even more painstakingly slow.
It was too much and yet somehow not enough. Between his legs, his wilting cock
was slowly hardening again, the stimulation bringing him back up.
He felt overwhelmed, on the point of breaking and yet not close enough.
It was maddening. His body felt like fire, burning to the brim of his skin but
not breaking over. And all the while, Slade fucking into him like it was
nothing.
Like he expected Robin to get hard again.
Like he wanted him to come again and again, at Slade’s behest, on Slade’s
command, just to prove something. Just to prove Robin was his. And would do
whatever Slade demanded. Like he was owned.
Robin shivered, a whimper escaping his mouth as Slade’s fingers brushed against
his prostate far too soft and light for Robin’s taste.
In the past, Slade liked to mark him. Come on his face, his stomach, his chest.
Sometimes he’d rub the substance into Robin’s skin like he was trying to taint
him and make it stick, make it permanent. At the time, the action, just having
to sit there on his knees, on his back, and accept it, was beyond humiliating,
beyond shameful.
Now, he wished they were still back to that point.
Because his body responded far too quick to Slade’s ministrations, his cock
aching again, and he burned internally for more, for Slade to use him. In the
back of his mind he couldn’t help but think Slade had won.
He’d bested him.
Robin was his now.
Permanently.
There was no going back, especially not after Beast Boy, what’d he done, and
not after this, his submission, his acceptance of Slade using him like a
fucktoy and his need for it to happen. His desperation.
Slade let out a pleased growl as Robin’s body tightened around him. “Something
on your mind, little bird?” he teased.
He eased his fingers out of Robin’s ass, wiping the slick touch of come and
lube onto Robin’s bare thigh. He eased Robin’s hips up ever so slightly before
pushing Robin’s hair out of his eyes. Robin shuddered at the wet touch, about
ready to snarl a response, lie through his teeth, when Slade snapped his hips
forward, angled in the most perfect way that sent literal stars rushing through
Robin’s head.
He couldn’t help the moan that slid of his mouth, or the easy way his body fell
back, too stimulated to be relaxed yet too readyto be nothing but slack. His
jaw fell out, fingers clawing at the keypads underneath him, just find
something to grab as Slade rocked him into him, harsh and fast.
His thrusts were sharp, carefully calculated, but too few in number for Robin
to really get off.
It wasn’t enough.
Between his legs, his cock ached, the newer stimulation building him up again.
He knew it’d be harder to come this time, especially right on the heels of his
last orgasm. He’d need more time than Slade was planning on giving him, that
he’d have to begwhen Slade finished with him.
In the slurred state his mind was turning to that didn’t seem like a such a
terrible idea. The shame in his chest was swiftly burning into something
yearning, something needed, rather than something to be avoided until the end
of time.
Tears brimmed to the corner of his eyes.
He couldn’t believe he was developing a humiliation kink now. Not like this.
For the love of all that was holy and fucking just in the world, not like this.
But it was.
It was happening.
He bit his lip near bloody, fingers digging into the keypads until his nails
slid under the ridges and he felt the keys pushing painfully against his skin.
Slade kept his motions slow again, each thrust a deliberate roll away from
Robin’s prostate. Close enough that it drove Robin insane but without bringing
him to the edge. Robin’s eyes fluttered, his cock weighing heavier and heavier
between his legs.
The word slipped out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying.
“Please.” He shivered. Mortification pounded through him. He sounded so lewd.
But the beg was like a crack in a dam. He couldn’t stop the resulting flow if
he tried. “Please, Slade. Please.”
“Please what, Robin?” Slade asked. His voice was kept tight and measured but he
pressed against Robin’s prostate in one sharp moment.
Robin arched up, Slade somehow pressing in deeper, and groaned.
“What, Robin?” Slade repeated, his hands digging into the meat of Robin’s
thigh.
Robin shook. “Fuck me,” he breathed as he tried to roll over. Falling to his
back, he locked his head back, throat exposed. He tried to work himself back of
Slade’s cock. “Please.”
Slade squeezed Robin’s thigh, the pressure bruising but good, right before he
slid out. Robin nearly sobbed, but Slade shoved back into him. Robin squeezed
his eyes shut, working back of Slade’s cock. His voice was sliding out of him
in a string of moans and begs, like he was an easy slut.
Slade kept pushing into him like he was.
For a moment, Robin wanted to see his face, wanted to see Slade want him. He’d
never gotten a good look before. The few fleeting glances he’d garnered,
usually in a quick beat as Slade changed, weren’t enough to sate him.
But the desire was gone just as soon as it came as Slade kept pistoling into
him, the force of just taking it rocking him to his core. Robin struggled to
find a grip against the keyboards, something that he could hold onto with one
hand and let the other slip between his legs and find his relief.
Slade’s cock shoved deep inside him, his body going still as he dropped his
hands from Robin’s waist and thigh and leaned over him to pin Robin’s hands
above his head. The heat from the screens warmed the back of his hands.
Robin whined, trying to fuck himself back on Slade’s cock but there was nowhere
for him to go and he couldn’t pull away. His head locked back again, the
feeling of being full cascading through him, not enough to relieve of him of
the weeping ache trapped against Slade’s abdomen but enough that it shook him
to his core.
“Don’t,” Slade growled.
Robin shuddered and shook his head. “I won’t,” he swore.
Slade slid back, still over Robin, still keeping him pinned down but this time
with one hand instead of both of him. The grip was tight.
Robin’s wrists would be bruised.
The thought of it, the pain that would follow, the bruises serving as a memory
of this moment, had Robin keening again. He whimpered, blinking his wet eyes.
Slade slid a finger down his jawline, over his throat and then back to his
waist. He pulled out, the head of his cock barely touching Robin’s rim.
Then slammed back in.
Robin arched, Slade’s grip tightening over his wrist to keep him still.
“You’re so good for me, Robin,” Slade praised, his voice heavy. “Such a good
little bird.” Robin trembled, whining at the compliment. He could barely think,
barely comprehend anything but the force of Slade’s cock, the wet slap again
his thighs, and still the words kept pervading through his mind, like a sweet
song.
Good little bird.
Robin moaned.
He was a good little bird. Could stay that way. Would stay that way so long as
Slade would keep him. Would use him.
The thought jarred him for a moment.
Then Slade hit his prostate and a pitched moan sluck out of his voice as he
shuddered and came wetly. Slade growled appreciatively, the sound swirling
around Robin’s head. Despite still being hard, Slade’s thrusts fell to a stop
as Robin finished, panting hotly as he stared up at the ceiling.
Slade began sliding out, his hands disappearing form where they were bruising
Robin’s skin.
Robin blinked.
Without thought, he locked his ankle around Slade’s waist and pulled him back
in.
“Finish in me,” he said, voice sluggish but clear.
Slade’s demeanor shifted. “Robin-”
“My reward,” Robin reminded him. He tugged Slade closer with his ankle before
dropping, exhausted. “Finish inside me. I want you to.” He swallowed thickly,
ignoring the hot burst of humiliation that was sidling through his stomach like
fire. “Please.”
Slade was still for a moment. Then he grabbed Robin’s waist and began fucking
him again. The motions were short, quick. Not enough to bring Robin’s cock hard
again but enough that his body felt overstimulated, felt like he was on fire.
Yet still he kept whimpering, kept fucking back on Slade’s cock, wanting him to
finish inside of him.
Part of him rationalized the need. If Slade got Robin off and then chose to
finish himself off by himself, then what did that say about their relationship?
What it was now?
If Slade finished inside Robin, it was the same as it always had been. Slade
using him.
The other part of him kept jabbing forth the thought, the notion that Robin
liked it. That Slade finishing inside of him, on him, was a mark. A stain.
Proof that Robin was Slade’s.
And that thought whispered cruelly in Robin’s mind that Robin desired nothing
more than to be worth something to someone.
He bit his lip, pushing himself up until Slade was fucking up into him. He
wrapped his arms around Slade’s neck, feeling the man grab harder at his waist,
one leg shifting up onto the keypad for a better angle, better position to slid
easy into Robin’s body and use him like a toy, fuck him open.
As he kept driving himself down to meet Slade’s thrusts, Robin squeezed his
eyes shut, breathing hotly on Slade’s throat. His mask was cool to the side of
Robin’s face. Robin pushed the bottom half of the mask up.
Slade didn’t stop him, but his thrusts grew more manic, more demanding,
Without thinking, Robin pressed his mouth to Slade’s, his hand curving over the
back of Slade’s neck. Slade’s mouth was hot, his tongue pressing against
Robin’s. Everything felt too wet, too hot. Slade's mouth, his cock dripping
come, his breath, his voice.
His grips on Robin’s waist were turning beyond painful, his need showing. Robin
groaned into his mouth, whining.
“Please, please, please,” he begged against Slade mouth.
Slade growled low.
And came.
Robin shuddered, dropping his head to Slade’s shoulders as he felt the thick
wet heat fill him up. Slade didn’t pull out but shifted his leg back to the
ground. The motion shuffled Robin enough that a slick of Slade’s come slid down
his inner thigh. He trembled, looking up.
Slade pushed Robin's hair back from where it was stuck wet to his face and
said, his voice a soft croon to Robin’s desperate ears, “Such a good little
bird.”
End Notes
     Thank you very much for reading this horrible splash of work! You can
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