Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5143004.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Titans_(Animated_Series)
  Relationship:
      Robin_(DCU)/Slade_Wilson
  Character:
      Robin_(DCU), Slade_Wilson
  Additional Tags:
      dub-con, Extremely_Dubious_Consent, coerced_sex, Anal_Sex, Frottage, Wall
      Sex, Gratuitous_Smut, Episode:_s01e12_Apprentice_(Part_1), Episode:
      s01e13_Apprentice_(Part_2), Angst, Shame
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-04 Words: 4008
****** Silentium//Silence ******
by ImagineYourself
Summary
     All Slade wanted was to use his apprentice in whatever way he saw
     fit. The threat of his friends' deaths was still a weight on Robin's
     shoulders and with a white knuckled grip, he relented.
Notes
     My friend made me promise to post this if I passed 2k and well now
     it's 4k of purely self-indulgent and very shameful smut. I am
     actually sorry. 2 parts follow, I thought about separating them, but
     decided against it, even though pt 2 is much better. I need Jesus,
     don't judge me.
See the end of the work for more notes
Robin was laid out in front of Slade's evil throne. His hands were on the arms
of the seat, head dropped as he was leaning forward, legs spread. His utility
belt was on the ground beside him, he could see from the corner of his eye, and
his pants were pulled down under his behind, baring his ass and privates but
otherwise he was still fully suited. Slade didn't seem to want him unclothed
any further.
No, all Slade wanted was to use his apprentice in whatever way he saw fit. The
threat of his friends' deaths was still a weight on Robin's shoulders and with
a white knuckled grip, he relented. There he waited, ignoring the shivers down
his spine and whether they were from exposure or anticipation.
"Robin." His own name sounded wrong and honeyed from Slade's masked mouth.
"Such a good boy, waiting here for me."
Robin didn't want to give him the satisfaction of an answer. He waited.
"Quiet, I see. Good. Don't worry too much, Robin, an injured apprentice is no
use to me." Slade drew nearer as he spoke, finally coming to rest behind Robin,
one gloved hand on the small of Robin's back, jolting the boy who couldn't see
Slade at all.
"If that's supposed to be comforting, it's not. Just get it over with," Robin
said through clenched teeth.
"Tsk, tsk, Robin, be patient. This is for you. A gift, if you will." Robin bit
his tongue and didn't say anything, but he forced his muscles to start relaxing
under his captor's hand. "Good," was all Slade added.
The hand on his back slid to Robin's hip and he instinctively moved his feet a
little wider when he felt something blunt and slick press against the crack of
his ass and against his hole. A finger, his mind supplied for him. It slowly
pushed into him until he felt his body uncoil bit by bit. It was... Weird.
Didn't feel good, didn't feel bad. Robin thought to himself if this was all
Slade wanted, he could easily stand there and take it.
But Slade, it seemed, had other ideas. He moved the finger in and out a few
times, tugging on the rim of Robin's hole, before pushing in a second finger
with the first. The burn, the stretch of it, didn't last long but Robin bit
back a curse. He had dealt with much worse pain before, he couldn't show
weakness.
"You're doing so well, Robin," Slade cooed from out of sight. "I'm going to
give you something."
Robin snapped, "What more could you possibly--ah!" His words ended with a
gasped breath as Slade twisted his fingers and pressed against something that
sent hot white energy coursing through him, down his legs. His knees wobbled
slightly. He groaned with pain-pleasure when Slade did it again, dragging
fingers across Robin's inner walls of flesh. His hips canted as he
unconsciously tried to get more, but Slade pulled out of him completely, hands
on his waist to steady him. Robin tried to breathe as his mind and body fought
over the sensations.
"Perfect," Slade purred, digging his fingers into Robin's sides, hard enough to
leave bruises. Once Robin had stopped panting and was trying to get his legs to
stop shaking, Slade took his hand and entered the boy again with three fingers.
Robin's body protested by tensing and sending a flash of pain up his spine. But
when the man hit that spot inside of him again, pressing hard and rubbing at
it, Robin sagged, wishing he had something to lay on. He wasn't sure his knees
could survive much more and he knew they weren't finished yet.
Robin's whole body shuddered as he was forced to rock forward and back with the
push and pull of Slade's fingers inside of him. He could hear breathless little
moans from his own mouth and the slick slide of those fingers, but was deaf to
anything else. The hum of the gears in the room was a noiseless background to
the blood rushing past his ears.
He'd never felt more helpless in his life.
Slade eventually took his fingers back and Robin could only shudder and shake
and try to keep on his feet as he heard the clank of Slade's own belt hit the
floor. It took all of Robin's strength to grip at the throne and lock his
elbows to stay upright. There was a pressure against Robin's hole and some part
of his fuzzy mind knew it was not just another finger. The head slid in fine,
but Robin could feel himself clenching and fighting the rest.
Slade's hand ran up the length of his side and gripped Robin's shoulder.
"Robin, you need to relax or you'll hurt yourself."
"No, I can't--" Robin hiccuped, "it's too much."
Leaning over his back now, Slade told him quietly, "You can. You will."
Robin wanted to scream but he couldn't get enough breath in his lungs to do so.
Slade's hands wrapped around his hips to hold him. Slowly, Robin started to go
limp, allowing the man to carry half of his weight as he slid home inside of
Robin. Another shudder shook his arms and his shoulders.
He heard Slade sigh but neither of them moved for a long minute that felt more
like hours. Robin just wanted to collapse and let it be over, but Slade took
his sweet time sliding out of him and then back in, over and over. The slow
drag of his cock inside Robin sent waves of warm pleasure through him and he
felt more than heard the noises he was making. No longer was his body
protesting though his head was filled with his silent shouts. But he had no
time to feel shame, only enough time to hold on for dear life as Slade suddenly
shifted gears and slammed in harder.
Slade pulled on Robin's pelvis so his thrusts were met and Robin could only
surrender. The crown of his head bobbed gently against the back of the throne
so he dropped his head further to avoid it. His arms were getting weaker and
his legs had all but given up but he could see his own hard dick hanging, dark
red and dripping onto the floor. He shut his eyes and didn't stop the pants and
grunts that fell from his lips.
At some point he felt that Slade had hit that spot again inside of him, though
his muscles barely tensed, and he was coming, lost in the ecstasy of it. The
familiar jolts traveled down his thighs and he opened his eyes enough to see a
puddle of his come on the seat of the throne before shutting them again as he
went lax. He felt like he might faint and he spared an empty thought that Slade
didn't go on for much longer.
Robin's wish was granted when just moments later Slade clutched at his hips and
stilled, pelvis barely moving until he pulled away completely. Robin fell
immediately to his knees, shaking, and leaned his head against one of his arms.
Behind him, he could hear Slade's pants of breath.
"Good boy," Slade told him in a sigh, placing one hand in Robin's hair. The boy
didn't have the energy to push him away. "Your friends will live another day."
Robin felt a little like he was going to be sick. Even after Slade had walked
away, he took a long time getting back to his feet to leave the evidence
behind.
 
. . .
 
The next day found Robin fighting with more fervor than even he thought he
could muster. He kicked and punched in the dim lighting of Slade's hideout and
threw the villain over his shoulder, battle cries exploding from his throat as
he moved. He kicked his left foot and his enemy blocked it with a forearm,
twisting his other arm to strike at Robin's body as they flew past each other.
He missed and Robin landed unharmed, spinning on his heel and crouching low.
The boy snarled his distaste and lunged again, this time with twin punches,
which Slade just barely blocked, sliding back across the dark floor.
Anger and humiliation were his driving forces, something it seemed Slade hadn't
anticipated if the way he was underestimating Robin's strength was any
indication. Robin attacked with little regard for his own bruised body, instead
doing his damnedest to throw Slade around as hard as he could. He'd succeeded
in making Slade hit the floor several times before he managed to grab hold of
Robin's hand as he moved to punch and twisted the boy's arm behind him.
Robin's back was held against Slade's front, one arm held behind him and the
other trying to claw away at the arm Slade had crossed over the boy's chest. He
let out a growl of frustration and attempted to wriggle his body to escape the
tight hold of the man. When there was no relent to the grip, Robin stilled, not
quite going limp but waiting for an opening.
"Come on, little bird, you can do better than that," Slade said into his ear,
voice low like his words were for Robin only though no one else was in the
room.
"Don't call me that," the boy hero grumbled, teeth grinding as he again tried
to dislodge the arm around his body. Slade slipped his hand along his hip,
still holding tight enough that Robin couldn't move, but putting pressure on
his lower abdomen.
Without warning, Robin was suddenly turned around and his back was slammed into
a nearby pillar. Slade slid his hands down the boy's arms to gather both wrists
in one and hold them just above Robin's head. One of his thighs nudged Robin's
legs apart and he was held bodily in place by Slade's sheer greater mass.
"What are you doing?" Robin hissed, struggling a moment before tensing and
becoming still again.
Slade's smirk was present in his voice as he replied, "We're playing until one
of us cries 'uncle', right? There aren't any rules on getting the result
though."
Robin was sure that if he could see Slade's face the man's features would all
but spell mischief. "This isn't a fair fight," Robin countered, the set of his
jaw signaling how tense he was.
"Life's never fair my boy," Slade told him quietly. With his free hand he
trailed gloved fingertips along Robin's side and under his tunic, skin still
separated but here he could feel the heat of the boy's body.
Robin didn't make a sound but he had stopped struggling altogether, his mind
occupied with calculating. His pelvis was trapped against the concrete behind
him, his legs almost off the ground. Even if he had thought kicking out a leg
would help the situation, he was pretty sure he couldn't move his thighs enough
to kick. Slade's own thigh was right up against his soft dick, hidden behind
the fabric of his uniform.
The hand under his top slipped around the curve of Robin's side and dug
fingertips into the spaces between his ribs, making him grit his teeth and hold
back a hiss. With reluctant thoughts, Robin started to relax, letting the
muscles in his arms and his back uncoil so he sank down slightly onto Slade's
leg, his feet solidly on the ground again. It wasn't uncomfortable of a
position, but Robin wanted to move almost as soon as he'd settled.
“Not so bad, is it now?” Slade asked, voice like molasses.
Robin lifted his chin to look him straight in his eye, almost glowing in the
dark room. “No,” he muttered, letting his wrists rest on the top of his head,
still within Slade's now lessening grip. He was waiting patiently now, unsure
if Slade saw what he was doing, but waiting nonetheless.
The older man chuckled low and leaned in closer so his mask was just a hair
away from Robin's forehead. His hips were pressing hard against Robin's and
slowly, very slowly, he rolled forward, thigh rubbing up against Robin's groin,
pressure almost too hard. Robin didn't even move, the control he had over his
whole body requiring his full focus to maintain. Slade repeated the movement, a
little bit faster. If he was disappointed in Robin's lack of response, he
didn't show it. In fact, it seemed only to spur him on.
“Your resilience is admirable, Robin, but even you have to give up sometime,”
Slade said mildly. He continued pressing into the boy's body, rutting slowly
and sweetly, pressing in all the right places and moving his free hand to grip
Robin's bared hip.
“You're wrong,” Robin replied just as mild, lips a flat line. He was never as
glad as he was then that his eyes were hidden by his mask, the fear of Slade
seeing into him that way was far more terrifying than the catch of his breath
after a particularly hard slide against his slowly filling dick. His body may
have been betraying him to Slade's ministrations, but he was still strong of
mind.
“Robin.” The growl of his name was almost a question and it took Robin a second
too long to realize Slade had stopped moving. Their masked gazes met. “I want
you to do something for me.”
“Why should I?”
“I'm going to let go of your arms.”
Robin chewed the inside of his cheek. This could be his chance. “What do you
want?”
There was barely a pause before Slade spoke plainly. “Take off my mask.”
A heartbeat passed. Then another. Then several more before Robin remembered he
had to breathe. “What?” he whispered, knowing he had heard the words but
needing to hear them again, just to be sure.
“I want you,” Slade said slowly, “to take off my mask.”
Robin spared a thought that he might not have been as strong as he tried to
believe. Surprise coursed through his head along with confusion and heat and it
all came together in a cocktail that made his control slip and his lips part
with a gasp. “Why?” Robin asked, breathless as he tried to process the request.
Why would Slade want to show his face? The very purpose of a mask was to hide
one's identity.
“Don't you want to see what I really look like?” Slade chuckled. The sound sent
a shudder down Robin's spine against the pillar. “What do you say?”
Robin took a breath, wary of tricks but once again composed. “Fine,” he said
stiffly. He was tempted to try and fight as soon as he was freed, but a larger
part of him reasoned that it was unlikely he'd ever get a chance to see Slade's
face again. He could do a lot with a face, he knew, when he finally got free
and back to the tower.
Slade waited a long moment, as if calculating Robin's response. With slow
release, his grip lessened until his hand was completely gone and instead
rested on Robin's other hip, both hands now holding him in place, still above
his thigh. Robin breathed carefully and didn't move for a few heartbeats. With
measured fingers, he felt around the sides and back of the mask before him
until he found the latch. He unhooked the mask but hesitated in removing it,
suddenly feeling as if he and Slade were caught in a private moment that he'd
never have again. He wondered a moment if he would ever want a moment such as
this.
He lifted the mask away and let it clatter to the floor beside them. The sharp
sound was too loud in the precipitous silence of their mixed breaths. While
Slade's eye was no longer glowing faintly, it was too dark for Robin to see
much more than the edges of hair, sticking out in all directions and impossible
to detect the color of. He could see the outline of a nose, the edges of
ears—light coming from behind to halo his head—and just about nothing else. He
hadn't realized just how dismal the light was in the large room. There was a
vague glint of teeth as Slade grinned.
“I can't see your face,” Robin mumbled, faintly surprised though he knew he
shouldn't have been. His hands dropped, not to his sides but to Slade's arms.
He felt unusual, unsure what he wanted to do since his plan—had it even been a
plan?—failed.
“Really, Robin, you can't expect me to give up my identity that easily. Maybe
one day, once you've proven yourself as my apprentice, I'll let you really see
me.” Robin doubted the man's words, hoping still that he'd escape before it got
to be that late. He couldn't say as much, though, because Slade abruptly leaned
his now bared head in to nose at the boy's jaw. A warm tongue caressed the
flesh before biting hard enough that Robin know it would leave a mark.
The boy hero jerked his head back, startled, but so hard that the back of his
skull thunked against the wall. He winced but kept his head tilted back,
overwhelmed momentarily. His brain throbbed in time with his heartbeat, the
erratic muscle jackhammering in his chest. Slade huffed a laugh into the side
of Robin's neck. Teeth found the boy's earlobe and Robin's gasp caught in his
throat as his skin was tugged on. He had no idea how to react, so wholly
unprepared was he for the situation to turn in such a way.
Slade took advantage of his placidity to lift a hand and cup the side of his
neck, tilting Robin's head to suck on the flesh of his throat. Hips rolled
against Robin's stagnant form. The boy felt helpless, open-mouthed with a
warring mind, panic starting to stir him into action. He pushed at Slade with
his newly freed hands, shoving at his shoulders and wriggling against the
weight on him. The man didn't even budge, barely letting up on his work across
Robin's jawline.
“Get off!” Robin panted, unable to twist away from Slade's body.
“Is this your surrender?”
At a particularly hard bite to his jugular, Robin stopped squirming, still
pushing with his hands. “No!” he snapped, an animalistic grunt passing his
lips. When Slade still didn't let up, Robin stopped pushing, hands gripping at
the man's arms tightly. He tried to dislodge himself, but Slade was rocking
their pelvises together, thigh once again nudging at Robin's dick and
distracting him. He inhaled sharply a second later as Slade rubbed hard against
him and bit into the skin under his ear at the same time.
With a shudder, Robin could feel himself getting hard, wrapping one leg around
Slade's. Whether he was trying to pull the man closer or offset his balance,
Robin himself wasn't sure. His gloved fingers dug into Slade's muscle until he
brought one up to grasp the hair at the base of Slade's head. Part of him said
to pull, get Slade's treacherous mouth off of his skin. Another part of him
argued to tug him closer, to get more or to suffocate the bastard. As it was,
he didn't do either, just held on for dear life, sure he was gripping too
tightly to be comfortable but unrepentant about it.
While he worried about how to get out, Slade switched sides, hands shifting in
tandem, giving Robin zero room to maneuver. Teeth grazed what was left of his
unblemished neck and Robin could feel the heave of his chest as his lungs
fought for air. He stopped fighting and let himself breathe roughly out when
Slade's hand got in between their stomachs and swiftly unclasped Robin's
utility belt, letting it drop off to the side to join his discarded mask. With
the bulky belt out of the way, Slade gripped the leg that wasn't already around
him and drew Robin's knee up around his waist. He used the newfound leverage to
grind into the boy, shoving his back harder into the concrete.
Robin wrapped the arm that wasn't holding onto Slade's head around the man's
shoulder, holding himself up, and got his other leg up higher to lock his
ankles together. Slade was still creating a work of art on Robin's skin and the
boy tipped his head back, no longer feeling the soreness of the area he'd
bumped earlier. The onslaught of sensations was wreaking devastation in Robin's
mind. It threatened to smother him like Slade's body was currently doing.
“Slade...” Robin groaned, clenching his fists, tugging on Slade's hair.
“Give up?” Slade's voice was a murmur against his flesh, tingling and hot.
A moan crawled up through Robin's throat and across his tongue. “Don't stop,”
he whispered. Slade hummed and bit a little harder into him. Robin's hips
started meeting Slade's, the friction of their movements rough and glorious.
Slade's mouth carved a path up and across Robin's cheek, enticing the boy to
lower his face and allow Slade to seize his parted lips in a kiss that felt
more like possession than anything to Robin. He panted into the enemy's lips
and accepted the offered tongue to taste his own mouth. A part of him suddenly
realized he could easily bite down and surprise Slade. He'd get an opening to
fight back. This could have been his chance.
He didn't take it.
Instead, Robin gasped little noises that Slade ate right from his tongue, hand
that had been on his neck now holding his head, fingers buried in black hair.
With a gentle yet controlling touch, he directed the kiss, guiding Robin into
exactly what position he wanted. Slade sucked on Robin's bottom lip, teeth
biting but not hard enough to hurt before letting him go, only to claim him
again with relentless pressure. Their hips never stopped and Robin was
breathing words he couldn't hear, sounds all washed away but for the heartbeats
in his ears. Robin nearly sobbed when Slade finally broke the kiss to scour his
teeth across Robin's skin to his ear.
“Come for me, little bird,” Slade crooned.
He had little choice but to obey, his entire body drawing up tightly as he came
in his pants. Sounds he didn't even know he could make left his lips as he
whined into Slade's temple. Robin could feel the other man continuing to move,
the shifting of his pelvis rushed and stuttering. Once Slade rode it all out
and settled, his weight heavy on Robin, they stayed in the same position for a
few extended moments and breathed, almost in sync.
With shaking legs, Robin unwound himself from around Slade and was actually
glad for the weight holding him up, feeling like he'd fall without it. He slid
lower until his feet were fully on the ground as Slade started lifting himself
away. The man's hands were on the wall on either side of Robin's head, but the
boy's chin was dropped to his chest as he lowered his arms from his grip on
Slade. His limp hands came to rest at his sides and he wobbled a little as he
looked up again, Slade's hidden face just inches from his. Robin was overcome
with the sudden want to kiss him again and it was only the fatigue in his
muscles that stopped him from doing so.
One of Slade's hands touched Robin's face gently as an unmeetable gaze watched
him. Robin leaned into the touch until trailing fingers found his throat and
pressed lightly into the bruises he had left there, lifting Robin's chin. “Go
clean up,” Slade told him after a moment, “we have a long day tomorrow.” His
touch lingered as he stepped away before leaning down to pick up his mask.
Robin's eyes fell shut as Slade walked away, footsteps echoing.
I have to get away, Robin thought to himself, sighing out a breath before
pushing himself off the pillar and watching his own feet as he left.
 
End Notes
     I'm cry, why do I hurt my child in this way. I leave you with
     thoughts of Robin being happy and fighting crime with sunshine and
     happiness in his eyes because that's what he deserves. Maybe I'll
     write something happier someday..
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