Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/282518.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Tiger_&_Bunny
  Relationship:
      Barnaby_Brooks_Jr./Albert_Maverick
  Character:
      Barnaby_Brooks_Jr._|_Bunny, Albert_Maverick
  Additional Tags:
      Shota, Drugged_Sex, Parent/Child_Incest, Mind_Control
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-11-23 Words: 3421
****** Now ******
by daphnerunning
Summary
     Barnaby has such a fertile mind, and Maverick has to be careful.
     There's only one first time, after all.
     At least, there's only one first time for Maverick.
Notes
     Written as a companion story to "Soon" (and "Strangers," a little
     bit), but it stands alone. All you need to know from "Soon" is that
     Maverick is blackmailing Yuri into sex for covering up the death of
     his father.
     (dedicated to all the awesome people on tumblr who refuse to kink-
     shame.)
The first time, Barnaby was twelve. It was the day Mr. Legend died. A pity,
that. It meant the memory would be that much stronger, that much less flexible.
But Barnaby had such a fertile mind, and Maverick had been ever so careful not
to mess it up too much.
Not yet.
Barnaby was waiting at home—so good, so obedient, he never had to wonder where
his precious boy would be. He beamed up at his “uncle,” trusting green eyes
wide with delight. “Papa, look what I got!”
Maverick had no patience for the “A” marked in red ink on the front of a book
report. Not today. The desire he’d fought for years was too strong, the memory
of another boy’s lips—at last—so fresh in his mind. It felt good, he’d deserved
it for all he’d done, but it wasn’t enough. It was pretty blonde curls he
wanted sliding through his fingers, pretty green eyes looking up at him, pretty
pink lips he wanted to see stretched around him.
And Barnaby was so pretty.
Maverick smiled, patting him on the head. “Come tell me all about it. Sit with
me.”
Barnaby, bless his trusting soul, climbed up into his lap. Maverick had been so
careful with him, had waited so long, never daring to cross that forbidden
threshold. Not because of any nagging conscience; more because he had plans for
his precious boy, couldn’t break him, couldn’t risk it. 
As long as he’d kept those urges to himself, it had been easy. But after
feeling sweet young lips folded around him already…
Well. He was only superhuman.
He closed his eyes, letting his hands rest on Barnaby’s slim hips. He’d bought
the shampoo he could smell, burying his nose in those blonde locks. He started
to harden at the smell. As the supple curve of Barnaby’s ass pressed into his
upper thigh, he let out a low sigh. Take your time. Savor this. There’s only
going to be one first time.
For me, anyway.
“Papa?” Barnaby had noticed something was different, squirmed around to look at
him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Tell me about school.” God, if Barnaby kept squirming around like
that, he was never going to last. To have him here, to know that it was now,
that he wasn’t going to wait any more to taste his pretty, untouched skin…
Savor this.
Barnaby was smart, but he was naïve. He must have felt the hard length pressing
against his perfect little ass, but didn’t move to get off his adopted father’s
lap. Not that Maverick would have let him in any case; he wrapped his arms
around Barnaby’s waist, holding the boy for a few minutes, listening to his
prattle. Every breath Barnaby took, every time he moved a fraction of an inch,
Maverick hardened a little more. 
“Um,” Barnaby said, in a small voice, “can I get up now?”
“Not yet.”
“But—“
“Don’t be disobedient. Your Papa likes it when you sit on his lap.”
“Yes, Papa.”
That was too much. Maverick’s breath came faster, but his hands were steady.
One strong arm wrapped around Barnaby’s waist, pulling him back flush against
Maverick. “You trust your Papa, right, Barnaby?”
Of course he did. Maverick had seen to that.
“Sure!”
“You want to make your Papa happy?”
Barnaby nodded, blonde curls bobbing. Oh, he’d been lucky to keep his precious
boy so innocent. 
He contemplated staying like this, just grinding up against that perfect,
pretty little ass until he spilled, but discarded the notion. He wanted to see
Barnaby’s face.
He wanted to see the look on it when Barnaby realized something was wrong.
Gently, he reminded himself. He could tear you limb from limb if he wanted to.
Why did that make him so much harder? Didn’t matter. He turned Barnaby in his
lap, so the boy sat sideways on one of his thighs. He rubbed Barnaby’s stomach,
asked some vague question about how much he was eating, didn’t pay attention to
the response. 
“Are you happy here with me, Barnaby?”
Of course Barnaby was happy.
He let his hand slide down a little farther, until his lowest finger brushed
the waistband.
“Do you like living with me? Do I take good care of you?”
“Of course you do, Papa!”
Maverick’s breath caught. No more waiting. He wormed his hand inside Barnaby’s
pants, eyes fixed on his face.
There.
That perfect moment, when trust turned to confusion.
To panic.
Maverick held him still with one arm, ready to knock the boy out if he had to,
wipe his memories and start all over again. He curled his fingers around
Barnaby’s cock, admiring the soft, smooth skin. He hadn’t seen it for years,
not since Barnaby was old enough to take his own baths, but it felt like it had
grown significantly—and was still growing in his hand.
Long dark eyelashes fluttered, and Maverick nuzzled his face against Barnaby’s.
“That feel good?”
“I…”
“It’s okay. It’s supposed to feel good.”
“I don’t—“
“Have you ever touched yourself, Barnaby? It’s okay. You can tell me. I won’t
be angry.” He knew the answer already, but Barnaby didn’t need to know about
the cameras in his room.
If he’d known Barnaby would look so perfect like this, he wouldn’t have been
able to wait as long as he did. The boy was nervous, blushing, embarrassed, but
his hips kept twitching forward involuntarily.
“Good boy,” Maverick crooned. He wanted to bury his face in those golden curls
and suck up the scent of his beautiful boy, but he couldn’t miss seeing
Barnaby’s face. Next time.
Barnaby didn’t disappoint, the stimulation far too much for his young body, and
he jerked violently forward, would have fallen if Maverick didn’t catch him.
Warm liquid coated Maverick’s hand, and he savored the feeling just as he
savored the stricken look on Barnaby’s arousal-flushed face.
He pulled his hand out, wavering between a desire to shove his sticky fingers
down Barnaby’s throat, or lick them clean himself, tasting the first time
Barnaby came for him. He decided to do both, licking them off, then sliding his
tongue into Barnaby’s mouth.
Barnaby shoved at his shoulders, making distressed little noises, and Maverick
held him more tightly still—until Barnaby bit him.
Blood welled from the wound in his tongue, and Maverick pulled away with a
hiss. Barnaby hadn’t bitten through, just barely nicked the surface, but it
still hurt. The last of his compassion dried up, and he felt no compunction
about saying, “I’m disappointed, but I understand. Enjoy making your way in the
world. You know where the door is.”
There was the terror he’d wanted to see. Not terror of him—terror of being left
alone, of losing the only parent he had left. That was his ace in the hole.
“W-wait, no, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again!”
Maverick paused, as if considering whether he’d gain anything by allowing
Barnaby to remain in his life, as the boy pleaded. Finally, he sighed. “One
more chance. Get on your knees.”
The tone he used was gentler than the one he’d used on the other boy, but
Barnaby was the one that mattered. He hesitated, but eventually slid down to
his knees. Maverick had a sudden thought of not erasing this memory, at least
until the next day, of letting Barnaby wake up with the taste of semen on his
tongue and an aching jaw, and released himself from his trousers as fast as he
could. “Mouth,” he panted, finally tangling his hand in those soft golden
curls. “Put your mouth on it.”
He could feel Barnaby shaking. It was a good thing it was his first time;
otherwise, Maverick would have been embarrassed about how quick it was going to
be. Barnaby obviously had no idea what to do, had to be told not to let his
teeth touch the shaft, instructed to move his tongue. 
Maverick could only manage a dozen thrusts into that innocent, perfect, pretty
mouth before he came. It was too perfect, everything he’d dreamed of, as
Barnaby choked and spluttered around the fat head of his cock. He watched
Barnaby for a while, stroking his softening cock as Barnaby retched onto the
hardwood floor, turned to look up at him with eyes full of betrayal. 
Maverick just smiled. “Good boy.”
 
*
 
The first time, Barnaby was thirteen. He woke up with his thoughts fuzzy,
blinking sleep out of his eyes. It felt like his brain was stuffed with
cottonballs, making everything dry and slow. He tried to turn over, but
something stopped him.
His wrists. He turned to look at one of them, and was pretty sure it hadn’t
always been wrapped with rope like that. He tugged on his other limbs, was
dismayed to find them bound as well.
He reached into his mind, searching for his Hundred Power, but there was
nothing there. That really frightened him, and he thrashed against his bonds.
“Oh, you’re awake. Good morning, Barnaby.”
That was Uncle Maverick’s voice. Thank god, Uncle Maverick would save him. He
blinked up at the man, tried to speak, and only then realized there was
something hard and rubbery in his mouth.
Maverick sat on the side of the bed, running his hand up and down Barnaby’s
torso. He couldn’t figure out why it felt so strange at first, until Maverick’s
hand came to rest between his legs. 
He was naked.
Naked, and Uncle Maverick was touching him.
Nothing made sense in the confusing storm of please no and I don’t deserve this
and why is this happening? He looked up at the man he trusted more than
anything in the world, and whimpered.
Maverick smiled. “Don’t worry, Barnaby. You’ve only been out for a few minutes.
I loved the way you showed me your Hundred Power.”
That was right, his uncle had come home from work, had told him that just
between them, he might have what it took to be a Hero someday—maybe. Barnaby
had showed off.
Maverick was still touching him there. Barnaby tried to worm away, but the
restraints kept him immobile as he—oh, god, what would Maverick think of
him?—started to harden in his guardian’s hand.
Maverick sighed, a contented noise as he leaned over and placed a kiss to
Barnaby’s cheek. “You’re perfect.”
He stroked a thumb over Barnaby’s balls, and the boy shivered. It felt good,
but so strange. 
“Now, let’s see how much you can take today.”
What? How much what? Take how?
Those thoughts were chased out of his mind by strange no I don’t like it oh god
what is it stop as Maverick slid something, hard and cold and unyielding, up
into his ass. 
“Mmm, I was right, it’s much easier when you’re drugged. So relaxed. That’s
nearly eight inches, without a single scream.”
Tears pricked at Barnaby’s eyes, hot and burning. His stomach tightened as
Maverick started to take the thing out, finally.
Only to shove it back in. Barnaby cried out around the gag that time, back
arching off the bed, as one large hand stayed wrapped around his cock and
balls. 
What’s he doing to me?
Is it supposed to feel good like this?
What did I do wrong?
That was his last thought before a thrust of the toy against some spot inside
him made sparks go off behind his eyes, and he did scream then, coming all over
Maverick’s hand.
“Still so eager. You’re going to be the perfect little slut for me when I’m
through with you.”
Barnaby flinched from the tone, tears falling freely now in hot streams down
the sides of his face. God, what had he done wrong? Why would Uncle Maverick
punish him like this? He tried to speak, but the rubber ball kept him from
making anything except garbled noises.
Maverick stroked his hair with his clean hand, smiling gently like he did when
Barnaby used to throw tantrums. “Now, now. I don’t want to hear you talk.”
He finally pulled the strange object out of Barnaby. It was a little longer
than Barnaby’s outstretched hand, as thick across as two fingers, and pure
black. Maverick looked at it thoughtfully, down at Barnaby’s face, then down
between his legs.
Then he smiled again. “Why the hell not? I’m the only reason you’re alive,
after all.”
Barnaby couldn’t deny that. Uncle Maverick had saved him, back when The
Murderer had killed his parents. If it weren’t for Uncle Maverick, he was sure
he’d have grown up in a horrible orphanage, instead of the high-quality
establishment he attended whenever Uncle Maverick was having his busy months.
He knew he should try to get away. He knew he should fight. But how? His
Hundred Power wouldn’t work for another half hour at least. He was tied
securely down. And whatever had been in the tea—that’s right, I had that weird
tea—had rendered his limbs sleepy and unresponsive. 
Maybe a NEXT was possessing Uncle Maverick. Yeah, that was it.
It was a NEXT that lay on top of him, crushing him with his bulk, breathing
heavily into his ear. 
It was a NEXT who muttered, “Look at me, you beautiful boy, I want to see your
eyes.”
Had he really been talking to his guardian at the table less than an hour ago,
telling him about a movie he wanted to go see?
It’s not Uncle Maverick, it can’t be, he told himself as a hard penis pressed
between his legs, where the black thing had been earlier. 
Some of the older boys and girls talked about sex, at the orphanage. A lot of
them said they’d done it, but everyone thought they were lying. Barnaby knew
how it worked; the boy put his penis in the girl.
Is this sex? Am I the girl? He couldn’t think of any other time anything like
this happened.
Uncle Maverick’s penis wasn’t as long as the toy, but it was bigger around. It
shoved hard inside him, forward and back a few fast, frantic times, hard and
thick and horrible, until his guardian groaned low and deep. Something hot and
strange happened inside him, and when Uncle Maverick pulled his penis out,
something wet dripped out of his ass.
“Damn,” he muttered, absently wiping the tears from Barnaby’s face, licking his
finger. “Didn’t mean to go that fast. Didn’t expect you to feel so good. My
perfect boy.”
Then one of his hands reached for Barnaby’s face, and he remembered no more.
 
*
 
The first time, Barnaby was fifteen. Maverick decided that he had to send the
boy away. That was all he could do. Hero Academy, like he’d been asking for
years.
Yes, Barnaby would get to know people, would lose that perfect untouched
innocence, but that was slowly happening anyway. Better to control that moment,
shape it himself into something that would drive him as the world’s greatest
Hero, than let it happen naturally.
Because it was getting harder and harder to control himself.
Every time he visited, the memories assaulted Maverick, memories of Barnaby
sucking on him as if it were the last thing he’d ever do, of Barnaby whimpering
in his lap, crying and coming at the same time, of Barnaby blinking up at him,
face smeared in semen. He was starting to lose that precious self-possession
that had kept him from taking the boy too soon.
He couldn’t break Barnaby’s mind. Bend, yes, but not break, and he was being
tempted far too often.
These days, as soon as he saw Barnaby, he could hardly wait until the door
closed before getting the boy’s clothes off. Sometimes he waited until he saw
that perfect moment of comprehension, but more often than not he’d just
manipulate all the boy’s erogenous zones, leave him a quivering mess on the
floor with his ass in the air clenched around Maverick’s fingers, stunned into
disbelief as always that Maverick, his trusted guardian, would be touching him
like that.
“Arms around my neck. Good boy.”
Barnaby wrapped his arms around Maverick’s neck, face screwed up in
concentration as he rocked back and forth on Maverick’s cock, pale skin pink
with shame. That was the beautiful thing about Barnaby; he was so easy to
manipulate. Every time, without fail, he’d forget that there was a reason he
loved it so much when Maverick touched him, fucked him. He’d been training the
boy for years, after all. By now his ass was practically made to take
Maverick’s cock, and he knew how to push every one of Barnaby’s pleasure
buttons.
The thought flashed into his head that he didn’t have to wipe Barnaby’s memory
tonight. He could enjoy a few days with him, take time off work, show Barnaby
exactly what his body could do by now. 
Barnaby gasped as he came, lovely young cock rubbing against Maverick’s stomach
as Maverick filled him. He was tighter than a fist in that moment, and Maverick
urged him to rock faster, faster.
When he hit that spot, Barnaby’s breath caught on a sob that sounded like
“Papa,” and Maverick lost it, flooding his ass. 
He stayed inside Barnaby until he was soft, burying his face in those pretty
blonde curls, wishing he could stay like this forever.
Then, Barnaby pulled back. His bright green eyes were wide with shock, horror,
as if he’d only just now realized something. “Y-you…Uncle Maverick….”
Maverick smiled, but it was a sad smile. Barnaby had started to break the
mental blocks. End of an era, he supposed. “Yes, Barnaby?”
“You—this isn’t the—you—“
“Yes, I’ve done this before.” Oh, it felt good to admit that. He held Barnaby
tightly as he thrashed and tried to strike, pinning his arms to his sides.
“Stop that, or I’ll kick you out.”
“As if I’d want to stay here with you! I trusted you! You…filthy pervert!”
Maverick frowned. This wouldn’t do. If he wanted someone to put up a fight,
he’d go to Yuri, or buy a whore. 
Barnaby had a lot more muscle on him than he was expecting, and caught him a
decent right hook before he got his adopted son down on the bed. “Stop
struggling,” he hissed, “or I’ll kill you like I killed your parents.”
That did the trick, but it was risky, so risky. 
Never again without drugs, he promised himself, though he loved seeing those
gorgeous eyes sharp and clear and understanding when he came in Maverick’s
hand. 
This time, Barnaby didn’t cry as his mind was wiped clean.
 
*
 
The first time, Barnaby was eighteen, and it was his birthday. He’d told Uncle
Maverick—whyhad he told Uncle Maverick?—about a crush he had on a boy at
school. It was the worst mistake he’d ever made.
“Be still,” Maverick panted, thrusting in and out of Barnaby’s mouth, the salty
bitter taste overwhelming him. “Keep quiet, keep still, or I’ll have him
killed. You don’t want that, do you?”
It didn’t make any sense. He loved Uncle Maverick, trusted him. 
When Maverick finished in his mouth, pushed him over the side of the bed, he
knew what it was called, though he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. 
“You’re mine, Barnaby. Understand that. All mine.”
 
*
 
The first time, Barnaby was twenty-six, shouting about Ouroborous again.
Maverick cursed himself, knew he’d been too sloppy. He’d taken the boy’s mind
away too many times, left fractures and pinholes behind for the truth to seep
through. Drugged then, this time.
He wished Barnaby had been awake, but that didn’t make the pretty lips any less
pretty, sticky and coated in his semen. He remembered the real first time,
wished Barnaby could. 
He’d had his way with Barnaby’s unconscious body before, had no trouble
positioning him. Of course Barnaby’s ass sucked him in hungrily, of course he
moaned even in his sleep. He’d been taking Maverick’s cock for half his life,
whether he knew it or not.
Maverick took his time, fucked the boy slowly, savoring the moments that were
all too few and far between lately. He stroked and fucked Barnaby to orgasm
three times that night, though he only got off once himself. He made sure to do
it on Barnaby’s lovely face.
When he finally finished, cleaning up with a wet washcloth, he kissed Barnaby’s
cheek. “Good boy,” he murmured, as he did every time.
That was the last time.
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