The long hallway was lined with pale, creamy marble and gold filigree that spoke of lots of money and a distinct lack of taste. A description that also summed up Cecil McVitie, the small, arrogant little pervert that currently held Slade Wilson's contract. It wasn’t the first time he’d worked as a bodyguard during one of these ‘parties’ and, while it wasn’t the sort of job he liked best, it was a good chance to scope out new clients and held a few other perks too. McVitie wasn’t just your garden variety freak abusing his wealth and getting his rocks off in unpleasant ways. He dealt in secrets and rare, unusual things. Of course, he also enjoyed extracting said secrets from the unwilling and watching people do terrible things to one another.
His parties were open to a very select, very elite type of person; the extremely wealthy and very fucked up. Socialites flew in from around the world to attend events that might be useful or amusing to them, and often unknowingly rubbed shoulders with some of the most powerful and sadistic individuals in the world.
“Wait until you see!” McVitie exclaimed, his thin voice rising in excitement. “I have been assured it’s the real deal this time – not like that man you killed last year who tried to sell me dud merchandise. Like I wouldn't know , like I wouldn't check .”
Slade glanced down at the sweaty, balding head of the little man as he scuttled forward, almost skipping in his excitement. Last time someone had attempted to sell him Robin. He had been a fairly good look alike, except for the fear in his eyes. The little Wayne brat would have blistered the air with words and escaped from his slapdash bindings with ease. Then he would have stabbed McVitie somewhere painful. Slade had pointed this out, after he was done killing the broker, who had squealed and begged in a way that seemed to have eased some of Cecil’s disappointment.
But despite Slade pointing out that capturing and keeping little bats and birds was both very difficult and often did not end well, Cecil had redoubled his efforts to catch or buy a genuine Bat.
They walked further down the corridor, Cecil’s loafers tapping a quick rhythm, while Slade’s boots were almost whisper quiet. Slade was also interested to see if it was the genuine article this time, and indeed, which one he had managed to get his hands on. At the same time, he couldn't help the slight twinge of irritation. He suspected that, depending on who was being held at the end of this long hallway, this rather easy and entertaining job might go up in flames.
A thin, stern woman in a white lab coat was waiting by a heavily reinforced cell door, in the lower bowels of the house. “The DNA checks out,” she said, without even the faintest flicker of interest. “They are not on any database of course, but the blood and hair samples collected by your team are a match.” She handed McVitie a chart which he waved off. “They’re deep under at the moment. This cocktail will keep them down, but they should still be monitored.” She passed the chart to Slade instead.
“Thank you, Angelika. You are a true wonder,” McVitie said. The man was actually rubbing his hands together in glee as he stepped through the door. “I took your advice, Deathstroke. I have made sure they won’t escape.”
Slade doubted that, despite the very strong drugs being used; because they seemed to have chosen to kidnap two bats, rather than a more manageable single individual. And they had selected possibly the most aggravating of the lot. “Hmm,” he said, noncommittally. This was going to go blow up in someone's face, but didn’t intend it to be him.
On the table, Grayson was stripped to his shorts and mask, showing off his very impressive array of scars. There were at least three Slade recognised from his own sword. A pleasing sight.
Beside him, similarly attired, was the Red Hood, although without his trademark helmet. Unlike Grayson, who just looked unconscious, Todd had fading bruises on his chest and face, with dark smudges across his wrists and arms from being bound previously.
“Do you know what people will pay to get their hands on these two?” McVitie asked. “The Red Hood alone would draw in a vast number of people. He’s upset a lot of businesses, and killed a lot of criminals. The possibility of revenge is a powerful motivator. I practically have people queuing around the block.”
“And the other one?” Slade asked. Dick was breathing slow and steady, and Slade's enhanced senses picked up no indication he was faking. Whatever they had been given had clearly done its job.
“Nightwing was a bonus. Came looking for this one, and we grabbed him. Lots of people would pay for him too. There’s a lot of Nightwing porn out there, you know. Lots of folks would love to get there hands on the real deal.”
Slade ignored that, for the time being. “You realise him wandering into your trap was probably a trap in of itself?” he asked, mildly.
“Oh, I’m sure of it,” McVitie agreed. “But my extraction team were very thorough, after the advice you gave us last time. The amount of trackers in their clothes was impressive. The ones inside their bodies, even more so. But they have all been removed or disabled. They’re both clean.”
McVitie looked between both the unconscious young men like they were two exciting gifts and he couldn’t decide which one to open first. He trailed propitiatory fingers across Grayson's face, smoothed them over his clavicle as he passed. “Perhaps the Red Hood first. He was attempting to kill me, after all.” McVitie decided after a moment.
The mask had already been loosened and Cecil peeled it away with ease. They both looked at the boy’s pale face; he had dark shadows under his eyes and a dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He looked young and vulnerable and not at all like a terrifying, murderous vigilante. Slade hoped Cecil would wake him up before handing him over to the highest bidder. Like this, he didn’t look all that convincing, despite the the nose that had obviously been broken a number of times and poorly set, the broadness of his shoulders and corded muscle in his arms. He didn’t have scars the way Grayson did, presumably that was to do with the pit.
McVitie turned the Todd’s face to one side and then the other, examining it closely. “A nobody. Disappointing,” he said. “I was hoping some of the more outlandish rumours were true. That he’s a famous sports star or actor by day and a violent vigilante by night.”
“Hmm,” Slade said, again. It was going to be aggravating if Dick’s identity was revealed, both too McVitie or to the people that bought him. It might be entertaining for a while, but generally the status quo suited Slade just fine and Dick would no doubt go through a round of annoying self flagellation which wasn’t any fun for anybody.
It seemed to take a moment for McVitie to recognise Grayson, and when he did he sucked in a warbling, excited breath. “This is more like it! Bruce Wayne’s gypsy boy, they fell out didn’t they? I wonder if its because of this – imagine the leverage against Wayne!” His beady little eyes were gleaming.
Slade kept the expression off his face, but internally his eyes were rolling. Clearly Cecil had yet to put two and two together to come up with Batman, but it was only a matter of time. Still, that wasn’t Slade’s problem.
“I’m going to bring them around and see what I can get out of them,” McVitie nodded to himself like a demented bobble head doll. “You watch them, while I set up for later. Buzz me when they are ready for questioning.”
After some consideration, Slade stood in the other room to observe though the glass window, no point in giving them a heads up to his presence. He also rechecked the bindings and blindfolded them for good measure.
He saw the minute change in Grayson's breathing that indicated he had woken up, but the kid remained totally still and quiet, probably making a catalogue of the sounds and smells of the room, and his own condition. Then there was the slight hitch in his breathing and accelerated heart rate as he realised he was wearing a blindfold and not his mask. After a few moments, his head tilted slightly toward Todd, clearly picking up on the sound of breathing.
He was still for another few beats, before he began shifting carefully, testing his bonds with small movements. He was going to be out of luck on that account though. He had Houdinied out of Slade's bindings a time too many and now he was an expert in restraining very bendy birds.
Grayson's head tilted towards Todd again. “Hey,” he called out softly. “Hey, who’s there?”
Todd groaned with a sound like a rusty gate post creaking on its hinges and the muscles in his bare shoulders bunched as he came to.
“Are you hurt?” Grayson asked, still keeping his voice low.
Todd whined again and rolled his head towards Grayson. “Nnnn?” he slurred. “Tha’ you?”
Grayson shifted his whole body, clearly excited to hear his voice “Oh thank God. You disappeared for a damn week , we’ve been worried sick!”
“Liar,” his voice still sounded thick, but he was doing the same small muscle twitches as Grayson had been, checking his body and his bonds.
Grayson ignored that with almost insulting ease, “Are you okay?”
“Just peachy. You the rescue party?”
“Yup,” Grayson nodded like a fool, despite the fact he must realise Todd couldn’t see him.
“Going by the fact I’m tied up, practically bare assed and blindfolded, it didn’t go well?”
“Well, yes and no,” Grayson admitted, with a somewhat rueful lilt to his voice. “The first stage of the plan worked, I let myself get caught and they moved us together. But the second part didn’t go off so good – we underestimated the sophistication of their tech. They disabled my bio implants, communicator, and I assume, tracker.”
“So we’re fuck knows where, in the hands of fuck knows who, awaiting fuck knows what?”
“That about sums it up. They’ve taken off my mask too.”
Todd was now fully straining at his bonds, a lot less subtly than Grayson had, making a sheen of sweat form over his bare chest. “Can’t get loose.” he grunted, after some more futile wiggling.
“Me either, guess we’re going to have to wait for a window of opportunity.”
Todd started struggling again, his breathing a little more laboured. Anxiety Slade thought, he at least seemed to have a good idea what might be in store for them. Grayson's head was cocked towards his friend, clearly picking up on the same signs as Slade.
“You okay?” Grayson asked. “Do you know what’s going to happen to us? If we know what crap we have to look forward to, we’ll have a better idea on how to escape.”
“As far as I can tell, we’ve been sold to a rich perv as some kind of party favour. It’s not going to be pretty.”
“Sold? I thought there was going to be an auction or something? At least that’s the Intel B found.” Grayson sounded bemused, and slightly concerned. “I thought the actual selling part wasn’t for a few days? The plan was to extract us before we got to the block.”
And disappear off the grid was left unsaid.
“It was three days ago, Goldie. They have some seriously good drugs, enough to keep us out of it. I think it was someone called Cecil McSomthing-or other.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Me either, which is not great news, rescue wise.”
They both started flexing and wiggling, looking for any give in their bindings. Slade smiled, they looked ridiculous, bird watching did have its perks. But as amusing as it was, this might be a disaster for his job. He didn’t have any particular thoughts about Todd, but he wouldn’t let Grayson get killed in such a stupid way as this. If he was going to die on Slade's watch, it was going to be by his hand, no one else's.
Maybe they could weather whatever McVitie threw at them, until they managed to escape. He had no doubt they would manage it eventually, if he didn’t watch them constantly.
“Are they awake, Deathstroke?” McVitie asked, coming up to join Slade in the observation room. “Can I go and talk to them now?”
“They are,but I would advise against communication. The less you interact with them, the less they will have to use against you.”
“Nonsense, they can’t do anything.” McVitie strode towards the door, almost quivering in sweaty anticipation.
Slade shrugged philosophically, he could only give what advice he could. “I would strongly suggest you don’t mention me. If something were to happen, we wouldn’t want them to be forewarned about their opponent.
“No, good idea!” McVitie nodded vigorously and pushed open the door.
Slade remained were he was, standing at ease in front of the glass. Both boys were instantly alert and tracking McVitie’s movement.
“I suppose you are wondering where you are?” McVitie said, with a poor imitation of a 1970s TV villain.
“That would be nice,” Grayson said, pleasantly. “As would knowing who our host is?”
“My name is Cecil McVitie, and you belong to me. I can make your stay marginally more comfortable if you cooperate,” he said, with all the menace of a damp dish cloth.
Grayson's nose was scrunched up slightly, and there was an amused twist to his lips. “Well, doesn't that just take the biscuit.” he said.
Todd snorted. “Don’t you dare start this shit, you dickhead.”
“Sorry,” Grayson said with far to much amusement in his voice. “Sometimes that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.”
“Shut, up. ” Todd said, with the weary voice of someone who knew he was asking for the impossible.
There was clearly some reference Slade was missing here, relating to baked goods, but he was more entertained by the growing irritation on Cecil’s round little face. He clearly didn’t get it either.
“Lowest form of wit, Goldie,” Todd growled, but despite his apparent irritation he had a slight curl to his lip.
“Pretty sure it’s puns.”
“Excuse me!” McVitie interrupted, “if you answer my questions truthfully, you will be spared some measure of torture. Otherwise, you go up for grabs in one day.”
“I had heard you were a tough cookie.” Grayson said, with an air of grave sincerity.
“That was pretty lame, Goldie.”
They seemed to have both forgotten their audience – but Slade knew better, he watched as the muscles in Grayson’s shoulders and arms rippled as he began working the knots on his bindings again. It would take him a while to free himself, long enough for Cecil to finish his grandstanding and for them both to be put under again, but it would be a close thing.
“I thought it was pretty punny,” Grayson said, no sign in his voice of the strain his muscles must be under as he flexed slow and steady against the ropes.
“Ugh. And nobody else even gets it, it’s a… ‘joke’, and I use the term loosely, you would only get if you were exposed to British confectionery from an early age. What’s the point of chucking out terrible puns that nobody gets? First rule of comedy is to read your audience.”
“ You get it. That’s good enough for me.” Grayson was grinning ear to ear, like annoying his friend was way more important than being threatened with horrors by some sweaty little man in an ugly, but very expensive suit.
“Then,” McVitie said loudly, “You will be passed on to the highest bidder for their own pleasure. Anything short of death is acceptable. If you still refuse, you will move on to another person, until you die, or are driven mad by the drugs in your system.”
“’K,” Grayson said. “Say, can you think of any more biscuit puns? Not like breakfast biscuits, but,” his voice took on a shockingly poor intimation of a British accent, “The sort one might dunk in one’s tea.”
He was actually close to freeing himself and Slade leant forward to rap on the glass.
“Got company out there?” Todd asked, while Grayson seemed to be doing a fairly good impression of a snake shedding its skin.
If it was anyone but Slade, someone who knew Grayson and his skill set, they probably would have managed it, but heeding his advice at last, McVitie squeaked and ran for the doors. As he exited, Slade pushed the little button that pumped the drug into the room.
“Ah, fuck,” Grayson said.
“Yurp,” Todd agreed, already slurring.
The set up for the party was extravagant, as was everything else McVitie did, no expense spared.
The grand hall of his mansion had been set up as an auditorium for a huge screen that would display the ‘merchandise’ while they came up on the cocktail of drugs they were going to be given. The most potent of these would be the something Angelika had cooked up in one of McVitie’s labs; it was an unholy combination of Ivy’s pollens and synthetic shit from underground trafficking organisations. It was a unique blend though, bringing together two main elements: Intense arousal and excruciating pain. The pain was only eased by sexual pleasure, but unlike the mindless rutting caused by many of Ivy’s spores, this left the mind clear. Which could be used as a torture in of itself, the victim had to make the choice to endure the agony, or have sex with who or whatever was available.
It was going to be interesting to see what the boys would choose. Would they be sensible and use one another to ease the pain? Would they act like Bats, and remain martyrs in their torment until they lost their minds? Or would one take the choice away from the other? Slade suspected he knew what Grayson would choose, but Todd was something of a wildcard.
Once they were fully under the influence they would be given a mild muscle relaxant, to ensure any escape attempts were ineffective and reduce the potential danger to the highest bidders who got to play with them one on one. Slade suspected it wouldn’t do much good on that account, as both young men were probably capable of fighting through it.
That being said, it was possible that who ever got their hands on them would be smart enough to debilitate them early in the game – perhaps by crippling them or administering more drugs of some sort. It was a concern, permanent damage to Nightwing was not going to be permitted while Slade watched, and adding more chemicals to the already potent mix in their systems was potentially deadly. He suspected that most bidders were most interested in causing pain, although for some the sexual aspect would be paramount. He suspected the ones who wanted to break and ruin might be the people he would have to keep an eye on.
Slade sighed in irritation. It came down to the fact there was a limit to what he would allow to happen here. This was a useful and lucrative job, and letting people escape would be extremely bad for business. So if it was Todd vs Slade's reputation, the kid was on his own. But when it came to Grayson, the rules were a lot less clear, even to himself. He could, theoretically, murder McVitie and just about keep it within his own code of conduct. The little man was going to double cross him at some point. He himself had been hired to dispatch his predecessor, and no doubt that man had killed the bodyguard before – McVitie didn’t like to share secrets, and hired muscle being witness to them counted as sharing. Slade was expecting it and was confident he could take whoever was sent after him. At which point the contract would end, and he would stick his sword through McVitie’s gullet. Perhaps he could accelerate things if it looked like he was going to have to step in today.
But of course, if he did that, Grayson might actually try to stop him, because self preservation was not his strong suit.
It was all extremely aggravating.
Breaking him from his thoughts, McVitie scuttled up to him, practically shivering in excitement. Slade looked at him in mild distaste, he might actually enjoy killing the little creep early.
“What do you think?” McVitie asked, gesturing to the curtains in front of them.
Slade pulled them back revealing both boys on display behind a think pane of glass. They were laid out on silk sheets, dressed in imitations of their uniforms, and bound with their arms behind their backs. They were triple bindings, above and below each elbow, and at the wrists. Very hard to get out of, even for Grayson who sometimes didn’t appear to have bones like a normal person.
“Looks good, doesn't it?” McVitie prompted.
“Indeed,” Slade said, still taking in the scene. The positioning of the arms made it hard to lay flat, forcing the chest out provocatively. As well as their fake uniforms, both boys wore blindfolds and thick collars with a thin but strong chain linking them together throat to throat. There was probably only half a foot wiggle room between them before the chain would pull taut and restrict movement.
While Slade had always believed Grayson was most beautiful in motion, he could admit the effect created here was very visually appealing.
McVitie was frowning at them. “They should be awake by now, has something gone wrong?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice.
“They are awake,” Slade said, watching the tiny muscle shifts as they both quietly tested their bonds. “They are both trained to be cautious when regaining consciousness, not to show wakefulness while they gather intel and wait for an opportunity.”
“Ohhh,” McVitie drew the word out and warbled a little as he nodded. “Sensible!”
They watched for a while, until Slade’s senses began to pick up on small changes in physiology; elevating heart rate, sweat beading at the hairline, tremors in the limbs. “The drug is hitting their systems now.”
They had to know what sort of drug this was, must be thinking of what might happen to them, but it wasn’t until the pain hit that either of them gave any indication they had been awake for the past thirty minutes.
“Oh fuck ,” Todd said, his pale cheeks flushing.
“Yeah,” Grayson agreed, “this feels like Ivy’s shit.”
“Hurts more,” Todd grunted, shifting restlessly. “At least we’re clothed, I suppose.” There was a note of irritation in his voice that Slade suspected was covering anxiety.
“For now,” Grayson agreed. “People may be watching.” He switched to Arabic, perhaps because he was sure they both understood, while making a guess that McVitie would not.
“What are they saying?” McVitie, asked with another little frown.
“They’re just complaining,” Slade said mildly. The way Grayson’s breathing was changing was interesting, he was clearly trying to fight against the effects of the drug and was practically vibrating with tension.
“I have to get things going,” McVitie said, somewhat regretfully. “Tell me if they let anything interesting slip.” He took a moment to gloat at the sight of all the people in the auditorium, and then made his way into the room. The crowd sipping their expensive cocktails, cheered and clapped as he made way his towards his podium, ready to start his performance.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome!” His weedy voice boomed out through the hall, “Thank you all for coming! I have something unusual, something special for you tonight!” He swung his arm out and the large screen at the front of the hall switched on, the image of Grayson and Todd was large and in HD.
Todd had his teeth gritted, his muscles tense under his thin shirt, it showed every bump and ridge, displaying his broad, and impressive physique to the max. Grayson, lying beside him, wrapped in an outfit only marginally more exposing than his usual attire, looked like porn personified – the taut lines of his body, inviting against the sheets. It was clear from the bulge in his fake Nightwing suit that he was being affected by the drugs. Perhaps a little quicker than Todd, who mostly looked in pain.
“Welcome!” McVitie said again, “Welcome to my vigilante orgy party!”
McVitie was about as classy as a dumpster fire, as usual, so Slade turned away from the image on the screen to watch the real thing in front of him. The boys seemed to realise they were being watched, but unsure in what capacity. They could certainly hear the crowds laughing and jeering.
“Orgy party? The fuck?” Todd muttered.
“That’s a stupid name,” Grayson said.
“That’s your issue with this? Vigilante orgy party doesn’t sound like a good enough name?” Todd replied, his voice lowering to a growl.
“That and the sex drugs, and the fact I can’t get out of these binds and I’m stuck with your dumb unhelpful ass,” Grayson snapped.
“Unhelpful? You’re the stupid fuck that got himself caught on purpose without an extraction plan!”
“I am the extraction plan, just maybe slightly delayed in the action part, but it is going to be fine, we can get out of this.” Grayson was clearly doing his best to sound convincing, but he fell pretty short of the mark, his voice was tight with pain, and his agitation was obvious to someone who knew him.
“Awesome,” Todd said, sarcastically, but he squirmed around slightly, so he was looking in the direction of his companion, although he couldn’t actually see him due to the blindfold. “You’re freaked out about this,” he said. Carefully, like there was a bomb waiting to go off, but he wasn’t sure what direction the blast would be coming from.
Grayson’s whole face scrunched up like a confused dog. “Yes! If we don’t get out of this before it takes full effect who knows what will happen?”
Todd scoffed, “I could fight you off.”
“I doubt that, but let’s say for the sake of argument, you managed to best me...”
“Dream on, boy wonderful. But, say you did, then what? Who's to say you will be fighting to escape ? You’ve seen what this shit can do to people, they lose their damn minds. We could really hurt one another, we could...” he paused and breathed deep through his nose. “No matter who won any fight, we would both lose and I don’t think I could live with myself.”
Behind his blindfold, and despite the flush on his checks, Todd went slightly pale. It was clear he hadn’t considered things from that angle. What if his bravado was true, what if he overpowered Grayson? He looked horrified by the thought.
“Point taken,” he said, tugging himself away from Grayson, with a sharp movement. He was clearly unaware of the chain connecting them, and the motion made Grayson’s head snap forward and smack into Todd's nose.
“Ow!” they both said, with the same tone of accusation. Then there was some squirming and testing of the chain, also a little bit of kicking and grumbling.
Grayson huffed, his breath ruffling Todd's hair. “Alright, well get out of it some how, or control ourselves. I can feel it in my system, but its not fully taken effect yet, my mind’s still clear.”
“Yeah but for how long?” Todd looked stressed now, but his hips were starting to move, making tiny, almost imperceptible jerks. “Not to mention I feel like I’m burning from the inside out and back again.”
“It hurts ,” Grayson agreed, and he let out a quiet, pained noise. “What the fuck is this stuff?”
“Don’t know, but it’s not like anything I’ve been dosed with before.”
They were quiet for a while, as McVitie began his auction. Slade was content to watch quietly, as the pain increased. Within ten minutes they were both sweating and breathing heavily.
“Seriously, what is this stuff?” Todd panted, switching to English, perhaps by accident.
Grayson had his teeth clenched hard, and he was starting to shudder. The pain really must be excruciating for them to be wearing the signs of it so obviously. “Do you think this is like Ivy’s stuff, where the pain goes away when you, uh, take care of it?” Grayson asked, his voice hoarse.
Todd was breathing hard through his nose and his face was bright red. Not a good look, with or without a helmet. “People are watching,” he said after a moment.
“Yeah, but I’m getting to a point I don’t actually care – my mind’s still clear about the sex stuff, but the pain is making it hard to even think about anything else.”
“What were you thinking?”
“Just ease the pressure a bit?”
“Do it, whatever it is,” Todd sounded like he was only a few moments away from apoplexy.
Grayson nodded, he couldn’t seem to help himself, despite the fact his friend obviously couldn’t see him. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”
Todd grunted in response and Grayson surged forwards, still graceful despite the tension in his body and the awkward binding. “I’m just going to see if friction helps any. Roll onto your back.” he said.
“We’re fucking tied together.”
“Just do it.”
Todd frowned, but he did as he was asked. Grayson followed, shuffling around until Todd was lying flat and Grayson was curled against his side. He rubbed a little against Todd's hip, and let out a small whine. “Oh God, yeah that helps. You want me to help you out too?”
Todd looked torn, but eventually nodded, “Yeah, but no one has to know about this right?”
“Except for all the people cheering?”
“Yeah, I mean...you know, the family.”
“No! No one has to know, pinky swear.”
“We’re not twelve, dickhead, and we can’t pinky swear trussed up like a pair of Christmas turkeys,” Todd grumbled.
“Pinky swear on the astral plane then.”
Todd opened his mouth, no doubt to say something scornful for that moronic statement, but Grayson slung his leg over, so it rested between Todd's. Then he rubbed himself against Todd's hip, and used his leg to provide the same in turn. Todd bucked against him and made a low, growling sound in his throat. That sound seemed to spur Dick on and he buried his face in Todd's neck, moving against him sinuously.
The crowd went wild .
Warnings: Some non-consensual situations and nasty talk from nasty people. Also murder, lots of murder.
Thank you to my awesome beta Chianti Rioja!
Slade could admit that watching the boys get lost in sensation and each other was arousing, far more than if they had been mindlessly rutting on Ivy's straight up spores. The crowd clearly agreed and bids were hotting up. Slade reluctantly tore his eyes away from the scene in front of him; Grayson was still moving in that sinuous, sensual way and Todd was almost whimpering – the top button of his pants had come undone and his top was riding up to show a strip of pale skin.
It was time Slade paid attention to who was going to win the night with them, which would be the deciding factor on how his own job went today. It was annoyingly hard to tear his eyes away, but he was nothing if not a professional.
The bidding was down to the last six; a collection of villains and perverts, about evenly mixed. Most of the people after the Red Hood were those he had personally wronged – something that would no doubt be very unpleasant for him when they finally laid hands on him. Grayson's lot were more of a mixed bunch; a few straight up perverts and body collectors, mixed in with a handful of people whose operations he had busted. There was one stand out, who Slade had tipped to win on the basis that his pockets were almost as deep as Wayne’s. He was both a sexual sadist and had been arrested due to Nightwing’s investigation. He was of course out on a million dollar bail, and primed to take his revenge.
“And now!” McVitie squealed to the crowd, “Now for the winners to claim their prizes!”
Slade couldn’t help turning back to the boys, to see their response. Both had stopped moving, flushed and tense. Alert to the point of fear.
“The winners of the Red Hood, with a shared bid – numbers 55 and 91!”
55 was a small, angry looking woman called Este Bankoff. She had recently escaped from jail where she had been serving 155 years for human trafficking, murder and tax evasion. There was pure hell in her eyes as she stared up at Todd's image on the screen. No doubt he had been the one to put her behind bars, he seemed to really enjoy taking down traffickers. Number 91 was Hector Jones, drug runner and a big player in both the US and South America. He was a large man with an ugly scar bisecting his nose – from the Red Hood’s knife. The night was going to be a painful one for Todd it seemed.
Slade had been correct about the winner for Dick’s bid. Stefan Sokolov, an illegitimate, American born son of a Russian billionaire. As his father’s only child he had inherited his fortune young, after Mr. Sokolov the elder had fallen to his death from a faulty ski lift while holidaying with his fifteen year old son. There were whispers of course, but nothing could be proved. Young Stefan took to his new found wealth with ease and spent large portions of it buying off the various prostitutes he tortured in his penthouse. Nightwing had made a case against him with enough evidence to stick, despite all the money he had thrown at it.
Now it looked like Stefan was going to double up on the things he loved most – revenge and torture. He looked hungry as he stared up at the projected image. Slade couldn’t blame him, but he didn’t like it.
“And now the prizes will be prepared for the winners, so relax and enjoy the party!” McVitie said, as the screen flicked off. Champagne was served along with delicious looking canapés , and cocaine in long lines on silver trays.It was all served by scantily clad waitstaff, something for every taste apparently.
McVitie was so excited, scampering from guest to guest, talking and nodding in that unbearably annoying way he had. Slade turned away in distaste. He watched the boys have a quiet but frantic conversation in the box, and saw the moment of panic as knock out gas was pumped into the glass cage to incapacitate them for transportation.
Slade felt he was doing a lot of irritated sighing during the course of this mission. That in itself was annoying. It was closing in on the time he would have to make some decisions but he didn’t want to play his hand too soon, there might still be a way to work things out.
“Deathstroke!” McVitie said happily, “Come with me, we can watch the proceedings from my private chambers.”
They walked to McVitie’s rooms in blessed silence, which gave Slade a little more time to ponder his choices. Inside there was a set up of giant screens, showing various rooms and people. The two main sets were off – no doubt to be used for dramatic effect.
McVitie sat on his fancy, tasteless chair with satisfaction oozing out of every pore. “Not long now until the fun stuff!” he said.
“Do you have a further itinerary for your guests of honour? Or will these first bidders also be the last?”
“No, no, there will be another day or so for Nightwing – I have a kill request on the second day that is frankly too good to pass up. Although, now I know who he is, I might have to, and see how best to use that.” He pondered for a moment, rubbing at his chin with a bony finger. “The Red Hood is solidly booked. I have a request from Black Mask for the final day.”
Presumably that would also be the final day of the Red Hood. “Will these bidders honour that do you think?” he asked.
“Yes, or I will have them killed. They know that.” McVitie said dismissively. “Shall we see how they’re doing?” He flicked on one of the big screens.
The first showed Todd, still bound as before, except now with his legs rather inefficiently roped together. He was situated on the rug of the couple’s suite with the woman straddling his thighs as he squirmed beneath her. They had removed the blindfold, and even over the cameras the look in his eyes was pure murder. It was unclear if she was attempting to hurt him, sexually assault him or hold him down for her partner.
It was a lot less fun to watch than when he was bickering with Grayson earlier. Slade was unsurprised to see that he seemed to be loosening his bindings, and was only a few kicks short of dislodging Bankhoff and freeing himself from the necktie wrapped around his ankles. The kid had some strong legs on him. Slade had been kicked in the face more than once by the Red Hood, (and indeed, by a gangly foul mouthed Robin who hadn’t quite grown into his limbs yet) and a necktie was not going to cut it.
Slade felt a horrifying trickle of nostalgia remembering Todd calling him a ‘dumbfuck Cyclops with more wrinkles than brains,’ just before launching a poorly executed, but wonderfully powerful, flying kick. Slade had almost toppled off the building he was on after he allowed it to land, but it was worth it as he caught the offending foot and tossed Robin off the roof instead. It was amusing to see how many times the kid tumbled ass over elbow before remembering he had a zip line and firing it. And he never stopped cussing the whole way down either – a remarkably inventive kid when it came to language. Despite his smarts and his growing physical skills, Slade had dismissed him as Not As Good As Grayson, and therefore of little interest other than as a passing amusement. But puberty, a brain injury and assorted trauma seemed to have done wonders for the kid. He was almost sorry he hadn’t pursued him in the same way he had Grayson, especially as Dick suffered from an almost terminal case of suffocating morality. Todd had turned out much more flexible on that score, although probably not flexible enough. Slade bit back yet another a sigh.
On the screen the man was more or less sitting on Todd's head in an effort to keep him still, as he cut off the fake uniform top with a small razor blade. He wasn’t being particularly careful and there were bloody cuts across his exposed skin. Todd’s thrashing and cussing were not helping matters either.
Slade turned away to fine McVitie looking at him with a calculating expression on his face. Slade's instincts kicked into gear, there was something happening here, a test of some sort? Despite his moment of reminiscing, Slade had kept his face black and professional. Whatever reaction McVitie was aiming for, he hadn’t got it.
McVitie gave him an insincere smile. “Shall we see what the other one is up to?” He switched on the other screen to reveal Grayson, face down on the bed of an ornate guest suite. He was still bound and blindfolded, but clearly working on that despite the pain he was in. Stefan was straddling his hips, rubbing against him threateningly. Beside him on the bedside table there were an array of objects laid out that ranged from oversized sex toys to implements better suited to a medieval torture chamber.
It wasn’t those that got under Slade's skin though, it was the words Stefan was whispering into Dick’s ear as he dry humped him. “I’m going to fuck you wide open, Nightwing, scar you from the inside out. Every time you wake you’ll have to think of me , every time you take a shit, you’ll think of me , every damn moment of your short life will be about me and what I’ve done to you. I don’t get to kill you, but you’ll wish I had, even as your last thoughts are of me.”
Slade hated that. Someone else claiming a part of Grayson. It wasn’t that he believed that Dick belonged to him in any real way, it was just he definitely did not belong to this upstart pervert. There was also little doubt that Stefan spoke a level of truth, if he was allowed to go all out on his victim, he was capable of breaking him. Very capable. Grayson was just a man, after all, no matter his training.
He just couldn’t let it happen.
Stefan leaned back and smacked at Grayson’s behind with the flat of his palm. “First, maybe I’ll break your legs,” he mused. “Break them so even if you're rescued, you’ll never walk again. Not without pain, not without help. You’ll never fight again, never fly.”
Beneath him, Dick shivered. As though the threat of that was somehow worse than death. Stefan grinned, catching the involuntary shudder.
“How do you feel about that?” Stefan asked, like he was genuinely curious to hear the answer.
“Go fuck yourself.” Dick grunted.
“I’d rather fuck you, Nightwing.” Stefan gloated. He had yet to take off the blindfold, but no doubt he would soon, to make Grayson watch.
On the screen Dick didn’t dignify that with an answer, twisting his limbs in his bonds, looking for a tiny bit of give he could exploit.
“So,” McVitie said, interrupting his thoughts in a very casual tone. “It’s Grayson you have a history with. I did wonder.”
Slade realised he must have given something away with his expression or body language. Very bad form on his part, just another sour note to add to this clusterfuck of a mission.
“And?” he asked, not bothering to deny it.
“Will you betray me for him?” McVitie asked, without the fear such a question should be spoken with.
“That depends. Are you going to betray me ?” Slade asked, mildly. He was, that much was now a given. But McVitie had to make a drama out of it, even his face looked dramatic, theatrical in its over excited expression. The little creep really did love the melodrama of a good betrayal.
As if on cue, the door opened and a tall muscular woman stepped in. Slade recognised her, although they had never met. Shard, an assassin, mercenary and bodyguard. She had a good rep and possibly some meta ability, or the sort of enhancements Slade himself had. He could take her in a fight, but it wouldn’t be easy, and he wasn’t sure Grayson had the time for him to indulge in a long, drawn out battle.
“This all feels very familiar,” Slade drawled. “Except last time I was the man hired to kill my predecessor. It seems this is a short term job, Cecil.”
“Lucrative though,” Shard said, amiably.
“Indeed. Although McVitie seems to have forgotten one thing.”
“Your prowess? “ McVite sneered, apparently thrilled to be able to talk some more instead of running away like a smart man would. “Shard’s better. I always get the best of everything.”
Slade slowly drew his blade, Shard did the same with a wicked looking katana and they sized one another up for a moment. “No, not my prowess. It is considerable, but I concede that Shard is good enough to make the fight an interesting one. But no, the thing you have forgotten is that mercs like Shard and myself don’t need to fight to prove ourselves and we don’t fight for honour. We fight for money.” Before he had even fully finished speaking, Slade reversed the blade, struck out to the side and slammed it home into McVitie’s gut, McVitie made a noise like a startled pig and Slade twisted the blade as he withdrew it. “If there’s no employer there’s no money, and if there’s no money, there’s no fight.”
“Aw, shit,” Shard said, a sad downturn to her mouth. “He was good for almost two mil.”
“He was selling you short, my first job for him was double that.”
“Still, easy money.”
“Well, it will take him a little while to bleed out, but not enough time to get him any sort of help. Money’s gone.”
Shard looked at her blade, a little petulantly, but then sighed. “You’re a bastard, Deathstroke, but it was fair play I guess.”
Slade inclined his head.
Shard clicked her tongue and glanced at the ornate nonsense in the room. “What about the goods? They got any resale value? Only seems fair I get to make back a bit of my loss.”
Slade rolled his shoulders in a casual shrug. “Sure. But they’re mine. He has plenty of other shit around, take whatever else you want, then leave to fight another day.”
She gave him a shrewd and speculative look. “Must be worth a hell of a lot if you would only take them, and just give the rest to me.”
“They’re getting less valuable by the second. I don’t have time to fight. But yes, they are worth a lot, to the right people. But besides me, there is also a high price to dealing with them. They will bring down a crap of trouble on any buyer or broker. Bat trouble.”
“Shit, Gotham type Bats? I fucking hate Gotham.”
“Bleghhhh,” McVitie said from the floor, snivelling and choking on his own blood.
Slade ignored him. “Gotham and Bat trouble are both acquired tastes, but one of these boys and I have history. Having him indebted to me is worth the aggravation from the Big Bad Bat.”
“Ha, well rather you than me. Take them, I’ll be raiding the old pig’s files and cellar, I’m sure there’s enough crap in here to pay double what he offered me.” She picked up a gaudy, gold and diamond encrusted paper weight in the shape of a fat dog and examined it critically. “Shame money can’t buy taste.”
“Urrrgle!” McVitie objected. His eyes were beginning to roll. It wouldn’t be long now until he took his poor sense of aesthetics with him to the afterlife. Couldn’t come soon enough really.
Shard pocketed the paper weight with a philosophical shrug. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
“Same.” Slade watched her leave then shoved McVitie over with the toe of his boot and wiped his sword clean on the back of his pants. Only then did he turn his attention back to the main screens.
Stefan was still talking and although Dick was bleeding from the nose and had a fat lip, he was still clothed and appeared unhurt. Stefan seemed to be making a performance of it, or perhaps he just loved the sound of his own voice. He might well spend all night listening to himself talk at this rate.
On the other screen, Todd had his legs free and seemed to have kicked Bankoff in the face, she was on her knees, dazed and bleeding. The man was shouting and waving a hammer.
Although he could more or less take or leave Todd, years of exposure to Grayson suggested that they would be going nowhere without him as well. And if Todd's legs were broken or he was unconscious with a claw-hammer to the skull, getting the three of them clear of McVitie’s mansion would be far more difficult and more importantly, far more aggravating.
So he decided to go get Todd first.
Slade didn’t bother knocking, just kicked the door down with enough force to knock it clear off its hinges. This also had the beneficial effect of taking out Bankhoff, who seemed to have propped herself against it in order to get over being kicked in the skull.
Jones was gaping stupidly at him, hammer raised, while Todd scooted across the floor on his butt, hands still bound behind him. Slade took two smooth steps forward and smashed his sword hilt into Jones’ face, knocking him down. Then he cut the bindings on Todd's arms.
“Deathstroke? The fuck you doing here?” Todd panted. The pain from the drugs was probably reduced from the amount of adrenaline in his system, but he was clearly still feeling it. Or maybe that was the few blows from the hammer that had landed, at least it seemed to have missed anything vital.
“You’re welcome,” Slade said.
“Nightwing?” Todd asked, getting to his feet, a little shakily.
“We’ll pick him up next.”
“Okay, lemme just get a shirt,” Todd said, eyeing up Jones who was blubbering and crawling, blinded by the blow or the blood running into his eyes. Todd grabbed him, yanking his black button-up out of his pants and over his head while Jones whimpered and begged. Todd said nothing as he placed the slightly blooded shirt on the side table and picked the razor blade that had cut lines into his chest. “I’ve been a pretty good boy recently, sticking to the rules when I’m in Gotham.” he said.
“Please!” Jones said, plaintively. “I’m sorry, Please!”
Todd ignored him. “But we aren’t in Gotham, and sometimes folks just piss me off enough for me to make an exception.”
Jones tried to scrabble away, but Todd grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back and slitting his throat with a practised motion, clean and with no hesitation. Slade watched as the arterial spray hit the far wall, he really had missed an opportunity with this one. Blinded by Grayson’s natural brilliance he had missed the potential in his replacement. Still, too late now.
Unruffled by the arch of blood, Todd had put on the shirt and was looking at Bankoff, he seemed more reluctant to deal her a final blow, possibly because it was unsportsmanlike to kill an unconscious opponent. Slade had no such limiting compunctions and he stabbed her in the chest as he passed, the crunch of her ribs was satisfying. This job was a shit show, but at least he was getting to take his frustrations out on something.
“Come along, Todd,” he called over his shoulder.
Todd paused long enough to pick up the hammer he had been threatened with, and then a long thin bladed knife, before following him out of the door. Slade had to admit to being a little impressed with how steady Todd's hand was on the blade, seeing as he was shuddering and sweating with pain. Despite that, he kept pace, clearly as itchy to reach Grayson as Slade was.
They burst into the room in much the same way Slade had burst into Todd's. The room appeared empty and quiet at first glance, but it was that kind of quiet that seemed to follow frenzied activity that had been quickly cut off.
“Dickie?” Todd called, completely breaking every protocol the Bat had ever beat into his thick skull.
Grayson's head popped up from the other side of the bed. His hair was sticking up like he had been tugged through a bush backwards and he was slightly wild eyed.
His gaze fell on Todd first, relief clear on his face, then his eyes flicked back further. “Slade?” He blinked at them for moment, then a stupid grin spread across his face. “Are you rescuing me? I didn’t know you cared!”
“I don’t, but this would have been an embarrassing way for you to die, and my employer would have betrayed me anyway. Not to mention the fact now you are both in my debt.”
“I didn’t need your help, I’m nearly out, see?” he pushed himself up on the bed, in the same position he had been on the vid screen. Both his shoulders were dislocated and although his arms were still bound, he was working his way free of the bindings.
“Oh, gross,” Todd said. “Stop fucking wiggling like that.” He strode over and used his sharp little knife to cut the ropes the rest of the way off. Then he did a double take, looking down at Dick’s body. “Did he do anything?” He asked, voice suddenly very dangerous as he helped Dick to his feet and eyed up what Slade assumed was Stefan, unconscious and hidden down the side of the bed.
“No, I’m okay,” Dick said, going a little pink at the ears. “He just got a little enthusiastic with his knife.”
“If you say so. Wilson, can you help him get all his limbs back in order while I find some pants?”
While Slade objected very strongly to being ordered about by a Batling, he did want to give Grayson a once over just in case. Dick also looked like he was about to object, but Slade stepped forward and grabbed him by the arm, making him gasp and stagger slightly. His skin was fever hot even though the intact top half of the fake uniform. Before he had a chance to protest, Slade jerked the right shoulder back in place with a sharp movement.
“Oi!” Dick said when Slade manhandled him around to do the other, and it was quite obvious what had upset Todd when he got a look at Dick’s backside, literally. Stefan had cut the back of his tights open and he wasn’t wearing briefs. Slade jerked the other shoulder in place and then fended off a smack from Dick’s right arm, as he scowled and turned himself around again.
“Trying out a new look?” Slade asked mildly. Dick, as predicted, latched on to making a joke out of what was obviously an uncomfortable and perhaps upsetting situation.
“It’s a bit draughty for my tastes, actually,” he grinned, but his eyes were tight. As with Todd it was clear he was still in pain.
Behind him Todd was surreptitiously wiping blood off his knife, Stefan’s stolen pants draped over one arm. He gave Slade a little nod, confirming Stefan’s quiet demise tucked behind the bed.
“Put the pants on, Grayson, then lets hit the road before you two have to start humping again,” Slade said.
Todd flushed even redder than he already was and Dick grimaced. “Well we should probably tie Stefan up and...”
“No, we can track him down when you’re not on drugs and we aren’t in danger of being caught.” Although it would probably be mildly amusing to watch the two of them fight over killing people, they were on an increasingly tight schedule, because of the drugs and the possibility someone might notice the mess they had made.
“Fine,” Grayson agreed with surprisingly little fight. Perhaps due to the pain intensifying again now the adrenaline had worn off.
“Follow,” Slade said, and took off down the corridor. Behind him, both of them were muttering about following orders from a merc. But they were both doing what he asked, so he let them bitch and moan about it.
“Where are we going?” Grayson panted. He was sweating again and his steps were stumbling.
“One of McVitie’s other buildings. It has the tech I need to sort out this mess and rooms set up for you two to use however you decide.”
“How'd you mean?” Todd asked, suspiciously.
Slade sighed “Well, you have somewhere between three and eight hours left for the drug to work out of your systems. There is no antidote. So you have a choice, ride it out or continue where you left off earlier. Of course, I can also offer myself to help you out, if you prefer.
Grayson opened his mouth to speak, but Todd cut him off. “Oh hell no, no fucking way.”
Grayson's grinned, pained but still somewhat rueful. “Guess that’s a no.”
“Lets just get to this safe house” Todd muttered.
Slade smirked to himself. This was going to be very entertaining, he could just tell.
Last part - finally! So sorry for the long wait! I hit a bit of writers block -turns out writing sex from an outside POV is not my forte>.<. Anyway, thank you all for your patience!
Warnings for this bit: Porn. Slade being Slade. Non-consensual voyeurism, Awkward sex, inexperience, switching (that one is a promise, not a warning)
“So, what do you want to do, boys?” Slade asked, once they were safely in McVitie’s bunker. It was equipped with plenty of security and computer systems, that Slade could easily access in order to insure all evidence of this clusterfuck could be wiped from existence. And, importantly for their purposes, the facility also provided rooms intended for sampling the human merchandise before it was moved on.
Now they were safe he had a chance to examine the boys further; an extra sight check for injuries and to analyse the progression of the drug. It also gave him the opportunity to appreciate the look of extreme discomfort on Todd's face, as well as the pretty flush over Dick’s cheeks. “There are rooms that you can use to help each other out, or rooms I can lock you into, to insure you don’t harm each other while the drug runs its course,” Slade offered, enjoying watching the colour deepen on Dick’s face.
Dick licked his lips in a nervous gesture, and Todd scowled. They clearly didn’t want to have this discussion in front of him. So Slade leaned casually against the door frame to watch them as they squirmed.
Dick glared at him, the expression lacking its usual ferocity with the barely banked lust in his gaze. He turned his back to Slade in order to speak to Todd directly. “How much you hurting, Jay?” he asked.
“I can cope,” Todd said, but he was shaking and sweating with the pain, it was clear to Slade, so must also be clear to Grayson. And if there was one thing that could be relied upon in life, it was that Dick Grayson would attempt to make the people he cared about feel better if he could. Even if they didn’t deserve it, even if it was to his own detriment.
Sometimes, even if it was Slade.
“We’ll take a room,” Dick decided, unsurprisingly. “We can figure out if we want to take things further from there. And we can always leave if it gets too much. Does that sound like a good plan?” he asked Todd, his voice tight with his own discomfort. Slade approved of that choice - while the decision wasn’t entirely altruistic on Grayson’s part, it did seem to be the best one for everyone involved.
“Yeah,” Todd agreed, mirroring Slade’s own sentiment.
“Thanks for your help, Slade. But we can take it from here.” Dick said, “I owe you one.”
“Yes, you do,” Slade agreed. “Both of you. Let’s find you a suitable room, and then I’ll find McVitie’s computers, start erasing data and dealing with the fall out, so it doesn’t come back to bite either of us on the ass.”
Dick nodded, and followed him to a large room with a huge bed in the center, there was a small shower room off to the side, and a large, out of place chest of draws. Todd stopped in the doorway, staring at the bed, like it was going to leap up and bite him. And honestly Slade had thought he would be more eager than this, but perhaps it was the fact they were both under the influence. What with his very messy dislike of rapists, it might be pushing some uncomfortable buttons. Dick followed Slade to the dresser on the side, looking into it curiously as Slade pulled open a draw that contained an interesting array of items, including, cuffs, lube, condoms, clamps and dildos.
“I don’t think were going to need all of those,” Dick said, with slight trepidation, as he eyed up a particularly threatening silicone penis in a violent shade of neon pink.
“Whatever. It’s here if you do,” Slade said, casually. Clearly Dick was envisioning them dealing with this with a hand job or a quick suck. Slade could tell him how unlikely that was – one side effect of the drug, one McVitie had been very proud of, bless his departed, sadistic soul, was the more you had – the more you wanted. The drug only made you want, it didn’t force anyone to act on those desires although of course the pain would be deeply unpleasant if you resisted the urge. But if you gave into it, it was like an addiction, always chasing something bigger and better. He could tell them, but he didn’t. He also failed to mention the recording equipment in the room. Instead he scooped up a large bottle of lube and handed it to Todd as he passed. “Have fun boys. Stay safe.” he held back his smirk until Todd had slammed the door behind him.
Slade didn’t exactly hurry to the computer room, but he didn't dawdle either. As soon as he reached it he flipped on the screen and flicked through the rooms until he found the only occupied one – there were three cameras set up that he could toggle though. Perfect.
But first, business. he sat in the chair and booted up McVitie’s state of the art system – he really did have to do some damage control. He did keep half an eye on proceedings though - Grayson was sitting on the bed looking awkward and pained and Todd was scowling at his boots, still clutching the bottle of lube in one white knuckled fist.
“Look, I’m just saying,” Todd began, then paused, perhaps hunting for the least embarrassing words to use. “I get that this is not going to be fun for you, whatever your body is telling you, so we can be as impersonal as possible, whatever makes it easier.”
Dick's face became comically confused. When he wasn’t actively controlling his expression, the kid was expressive to the point of caricature. “What are you on about?” he asked. “I get this is super weird and all, but we’re both kind of in the same boat here.”
“Yeah, yeah we are. We’re not choosing to do this because of lust and shit, I get that. But I’m just saying, that being straight must make it more complicated.” The last was said so quietly that without his enhanced senses Slade would only have heard a mumble.
Dick squinted up at him. “Firstly, that’s dumb. Being forced to do something by a drug or your body is the same whatever your sexual orientation.” He ruined the piety of his little speech by absently rubbing himself through his stolen pants. Then he seemed to realise what he had done, and how it might be inappropriate with the lecture on informed consent or whatever he was building himself up to. He went an interesting shade of scarlet. “Um, anyway, my point is…” He trailed off as he watched Todd give himself a quick grope in turn.
Todd looked slightly abashed and then scowled. He was like an angry teenage bad boy trying to upkeep his image in the face of his first crush. It was surprisingly entertaining to watch.
Grayson put his hands carefully on his knees and away from temptation. “Anyway, who says I’m straight?” he said, then blinked a few times. “Wait, does that mean you’re gay? You never said anything.”
“Nor did you!” Todd shot back, hotly, “I don’t need to tell the world my private life”. He tensed and shifted from foot to foot slightly, clearly trying to control his emotions. “For the record, I’m bi,” he said at last. “In theory rather than practice, anyway.” That last bit was mumbled again.
“You’ve never actually had sex with a guy before? Or only guys?”
Todd got even redder, even the tips of his ears were blushing. “No guys, not that it’s any of your damn business, Dickhead.” Anger seemed to be a safe retreat for him. But there was nothing he could do to hide his embarrassment.
“That’s cool,” Dick said, placatingly, one hand wandering back towards his crotch, apparently of it’s own volition. “I’ve only gone all the way once with a guy. Given a few blow-jobs though,” he waggled his eyebrows in what he clearly intended to be a salacious manner, but just looked ridiculous. Todd even cracked a small smile.
“So,” Grayson said, into the moment of awkward quiet. “Can we start by making out? I’m not comfortable with completely impersonal sex, but if that would be what you prefer we can just pretend to be someone else.”
“Oh shut up, Dickface,” Todd reached down and grabbed Dick by his top pulling him up and into a kiss….Or at least that seemed to be what he was trying to do, but Dick hadn't been expecting it, and instead of a smooth movement, he lurched forward haphazardly, his face crashing into Todd's. Both of them yelped and stumbled back, with Dick landing heavily on the edge of the bed, clutching his head and cussing in several languages.
“Son of a...” Todd snarled holding his lip.
How had either of them ever been laid before? How were they even still alive? Slade sort of wished he had some snacks so he could just settle in and watch the fun. Sadly it was not to be – he had to hack into McVitie’s system, and now seemed like a good time to get started – he didn’t want to miss any of the fun bits, and he could watch them be dumbasses any time.
McVitie had a lot of safeguards in place – always intent on keeping his secrets to himself, and Slade got sucked in to the complexities of it. And to be honest, some of the information was more than worth the time to dig out – it was a valuable currency in and of itself.
He finished uploading a program to get past all the security and traps, just in time to get back to observing the boys try to muddle through what should have been an easy lay. In their defence, they had got it together enough to be making out with the frenzied desperation of a pair of horny teenagers. Slade paused in his work to watch – Grayson had one hand tangled in Todd's thick hair, tugging on it to control the kiss, while Todd's hands were busy sliding down Dick's back to the swell of his ass.
It was … quite a sight.
“Fuck,” Grayson panted, he sounded out of breath and pretty wreaked. “Fuck, this is intense.”
“Are you still hurting?” Todd asked – he was backing them up towards the bed, his hands still roaming restlessly, pushing aside the random bits of Dick’s fake Nightwing costume so he could touch skin.
“Nah, no pain, but it feels so good, too good. I want more, you know?”
“Yeah, I wanna fuck you,” Todd said, with all the tact of a plank of wood to the face.
“Same, I want to fuck you, too,” Grayson said, and there was an edge of a challenge in his voice.
Oh this was going to turn in to some weird dominance thing. Slade leaned back in his chair and riffled through the desk draws. He found a candy bar and a dusty can of soda. Not ideal, but needs must. He flicked the tab and took a sip as he watched the boys begin to argue again, because apparently they couldn't go five minutes before squabbling like a pair of kids.
“Why should I bottom?” Dick was saying. “I have more experience then you, makes sense for me to top to guide us through it.”
“Yeah exactly, Dick, you’ve done it before.”
“Yeah, as a top!”
This was the dumbest thing Slade had ever seen, and he knew the first batch of Teen Titans when they were still in their baby gear – Harper’s hat and Dick's shorts were both seared into his memory, and always good for a laugh.
What made this particular fight so stupid, was he got the feeling Dick was just arguing on principal, and didn’t honestly care about the act so much as challenging Todd’s assumptions about him. He always had been a particularly stubborn and mulish kid.
“Look, I just don’t want to!” Todd finally snapped. And somehow that stopped the squabbling.
“Okay,” Dick said, like he hadn’t just been whining and bitching about it, contrary little bastard as always.
“Okay?” Todd snarled. Clearly sharing Slade’s sentiment.
Dick shrugged. “Yeah, okay. If it’s a hard line for you, I won’t push. Let’s just see what happens naturally, yeah? If we’re still up for it, I’ll bottom as long as we aren’t too out of it – I can’t afford to get hurt with an excess of enthusiasm. And if after that, you feel like switching it up...” he smiled, looking up through his lashes. Todd nodded dumbly, like a sailor about to fling himself into the waves following a siren’s song – even though he knew nothing but sharp rocks and a cold death were waiting for him.
Ridiculous, both of them.
Typical Bats, once a plan had been established, they seemed to settle into the idea, Todd had a look on his face that was half hunger and half disbelief as he pulled the remains of Dick’s top down, exposing lean, tight muscle and scars. The expression hadn’t gone unnoticed by Dick either and he flexed and preened a little under Todd’s exploring hands.
“Too fucking beautiful,” Todd muttered, almost to himself.
Dick’s cheeks flushed, his eyes looking dark with lust. Being wanted and desired by a partner seemed to be like catnip to him. The truth was, despite being one of the best in his field, the kid was starved for praise – and it wasn’t like he didn’t get it. The justice fools couldn't stop harping on about him, how brilliant, how clever, how beautiful. It was just never enough. Or perhaps it wasn’t from the man he most wanted it from, so instead he just thirsted for it, trying to fill that void. It was one of the big gaping flaws in his psyche that was easy to exploit once recognised. Slade smiled as he watched them on the screen.
His neediness didn’t stop Grayson from spouting lines better suited to bad porn though. “God, I want you inside me,” he said, as he sat on the bed and undid Todd's pants with frantic fingers.
Todd whined like a little puppy, his breath quickening as he met Grayson's gaze. Apparently cliche semi embarrassing statements did it for him. Or perhaps it was the expression in Dick’s eyes as he tugged down Todd's underwear and licked his lips provocatively. Challenging, and dark with promise.
Then he lowered his gaze to Todd's junk, and his eyes widened, his mouth hanging open as he stared. “Oh hell no!” he said, scrambling back a bit.
Todd gaped at him, then looked down at himself in pitiful confusion. He made quite a sad sight with his pants around his ankles staring at his own crotch, as Dick made ‘no way!’ gestures with his hands, still staring with wide eyes.
Unable to resist Slade toggled the camera angle so he could get a look at the problem – and with a special bonus of Todd's hurt, bemused face.
“What’s wrong?” Todd blurted, flushing from the tips of his ears to the strip of dark hair running down from beneath his navel.
Slade could immediately see the issue. The boy was big. Not unnaturally so, but to an extent it would be more than a little intimidating for your first time.
“You are not putting that barge pole inside me!” Dick was saying, “I’ll die!”
This was possibly the most amusing job Slade had ever taken. It even beat out that time he had been contracted to kill Bernard Hernandez in Santa Prisca during the civil war – and he hadn’t thought anything could top that. The fat little narcissist had set himself up like some sort of medieval lord and was holding a banquet in his own honour when Slade made his move. The little man had waddled away at quite an impressive pace, but in his fear he had taken a tumble over his own balcony and impaled himself on the flag pole baring his crest. Then, while Slade watched from above, he slowly slid down to lie bleeding and spasming in front of his fascinated guests. There had been some screaming and vomiting of course, but people had seemed genuinely pleased to see him die. A few had toasted his twitching corpse.
That had been hilarious. This was better.
“What are you saying, Dickface?” Todd had moved through humiliation and onto anger. Much safer territory. He wasn’t attempting to cover himself either, blustering it out with his hips canted forward, and his impressive erection looking as over-confident as he did.
Dick was transfixed, staring at it as it bobbed with Todd’s heaving breaths.
“Look, if you don’t want to fuck, fine, but can we at least jerk off or something? This shit fucking hurts,” Todd tried.
“You’re fucking huge, Jay,” Dick said, awe and vague horror mixing in his voice.
“Oh,” Todd said, looking even more confused.
Despite his obvious trepidation, Dick’s hand was reaching out; he seemed mesmerized. When his fingers moved over the slick head, Todd released a surprised gasp that went straight to Slade’s cock.
“Sorry, Jay,” Dick said, inching closer. “Took me by surprise. For some reason I wasn’t expecting that. Don’t know why, the rest of you grew into a tank, so it’s not surprising you also grew a bazooka in your pants.”
“Everything you say is embarrassing,” Todd said, but his words were low and tight with arousal. While still beat red, he now appeared to be blushing even more under the slightly backhanded praise. How did Wayne keep raising these needy boys? Once again Slade wished he had paid a little more attention to Todd in his youth.
Dick was still staring with big blue eyes, but there was a look of slightly predatory hunger overtaking the shock and anxiety. When Todd's hand joined his exploratory fingers to give himself a hard tug all caution and sense seemed to leave Grayson in a rush. He leaned forward and licked a wet stripe up from base to tip – uncaring that he also licked over both of their fingers. Todd made another of those puppy whines and Slade had to adjust himself through his pants. Then Grayson was just going to town, he was completely lacking in finesse, and seemed to be attempting to get as much cock in his mouth as he could. He didn’t seem to have much of a gag reflex either – or perhaps that was just bull-headedness on his part.
Seeing Dick Grayson drooling around his cock seemed to knock the sense out of Todd’s head too, and he grabbed at Dick’s hair and thrust forward with enough force to make tears come to his eyes.
Grayson punched him in the gut. It was a bad angle, so it was more surprise than pain that brought Todd back to himself while Grayson spluttered and glowered up at him “I’m not a fucking flesh-light, Jay, I’ve got to fucking breathe.”
Todd's eyes widened a look of horror on his face “Shit, Dickie, I’m sorry. I…it just felt, I’m sorry.” he looked very upset with himself.
This was better than the terrible but addictive telenovela Slade liked to watch on his downtime.
Grayson seemed to have recovered himself slightly. “It’s okay. Just warn a guy next time would ya?” he shrugged a little, looking a bit embarrassed by his outburst. “Come here, Jay.”
Todd looked like he might bolt at any moment, but when Dick beckoned him in with an impatient wave and then shimmied out of the rest of his clothes like the boneless creature he was, Todd caved to the inevitable and moved towards the bed, nearly tipping over the pants still pooled around his ankles as he kicked them the rest of the way off. Grayson pulled him into a kiss by the hair – open mouthed, sloppy and dominating. Todd seemed to get lost in it for a moment before, predictably fighting back, forcing Grayson’s head to tip back and taking control of the kiss. Grayson grinned around the tongue in his mouth, then flipped them easily, so Todd was on his back.
And then they were back to wrestling, both trying to out-do each other like the squabbling siblings they sort of were, or could have been. If they had been brought up by someone who wasn’t Wayne, or if Todd hadn’t met an untimely end.
The Bat was going to have a fit if he ever found out about this little excursion into pseudo- incest. Especially when he realised they could have just gone to separate rooms and jerked off. It would have worked just as well, but they had decided to fuck instead, because at some level they wanted to, and this was one hell of a good excuse.
They were still rolling around on the bed, showing off their strength and skills. Both of them were grinning, enjoying themselves in their ludicrous game. Slade could relate to this kind of foreplay, testing each other, not letting it be easy, even if the result was already decided. A fight was no fun without a worthy opponent, and sex was no different.
It was why Slade was so drawn to Grayson, after all. He could put up one hell of a fight, his body was a weapon that could take down those much stronger than himself, and combined with his intelligence and instinctive ability to read his adversary, he was sometimes capable of holding his own against Slade, even besting him on occasion. It was intriguing, fascinating, alluring .
When he had first met Grayson, he’d wanted nothing more than to utilise him, turn that raw ability into something he could control, could twist into the shape he wanted. There had been so many ways to achieve that end: violence, coercion, sweetness and lies. Sex was just one option he had considered trying – although at the time Dick had been too young to really spark his interest sexually.
But it had sown the seed of possibility.
And not just in Slade. It had been Robin’s reaction to him that had put the idea in his head.
After a short fight, in which Robin had held his own remarkably well, considering, Slade had ended things by holding him one handed by the throat, back to the wall, toes barely touching the floor. Dick’s hands had scrabbled at his immovable arm, and finding no give, he had wrapped his bare, hairless legs around Slade’s waist in an effort to ease the pressure on his airways.
Dick's eyes had been dilated and his breathing rapid from adrenaline and fear – but he had been hard in his little green panties. Slade had smiled as he pushed forward and the boys cheeks had flushed with shame. Of course, he had been a teenager and probably popping wood at the drop of a hat – but there had been something between them at that moment. Something for later, when he had grown into his body, and out of the Bat’s suffocating shadow.
He had waited, was still waiting, for the right moment to strike, but he had expected Grayson to have looked elsewhere in the meantime. He had been genuinely surprised to learn that Dick had only been with one man. Harper perhaps? That other annoying ginger brat? No matter, despite the surge of possessive jealousy he had experienced when he realised Todd would be the first man to fuck Grayson, this was a good thing. He would watch and learn.
When he had Dick, it was going to be exactly as he wanted it – and that couldn’t be rushed.
And he would have him. Body and mind, but not here, not yet.
“Please,” Todd was saying, “please let me.”
Having been lost in his own thoughts, Slade wasn’t exactly sure what he was pleading for, but Dick seemed willing to be manhandled onto his front, although he visibly tensed as Todd failed to do anything, just sitting back on his heels and admiring the view. Which was indeed impressive.
“What?” Grayson asked, starting to turn over, but Todd pushed him flat with a hand between his shoulder blades.
“Just look at you,” Todd said, his voice almost accusatory, like he couldn’t believe Dick was spread out below him, waiting to be fucked.
“ What ?” Dick asked again, his own voice starting to sound annoyed.
Todd answered by leaning forward and sinking his teeth into one of the firm globes of Grayson's ass cheeks. Dick yelped, but Todd held him down firmly and kissed away the sting.
Slade had a suspicion of where this was headed, and unbuckled his belt. He had thought he was going to be above the urge to jerk off so soon, but he suspected he was going to have to give into his desires or embarrass himself.
He toggled the camera so that when Todd pulled Grayson's cheeks apart, exposing him, and making him whimper like a wounded animal, Slade's view was on Grayson's face – flushed, ashamed, aroused beyond the ability to think. Perfect.
Todd pulled Dick up by the hips, his face pressed firmly against his ass as he rimmed him, making muffled noises against his skin.
Grayson's mouth had fallen open, and his face wore an indescribably stupid expression. “Oh fuck,” he said, as he worked his hips uselessly in Todd's grip. “Oh fuck. ”
Todd drew back slightly, his lips wet with spit and his eyes a little wild. Something violent and ugly crossed his face and he grabbed Dick by the arm, twisting him and slamming him onto his back, one hand around his throat – not cutting off his breathing, but not a loose hold either. The move had surprised Slade, made him twitch a little in reaction to the sudden aggression, but Grayson just moaned and spread his legs, not in the least bothered by the potential threat, enjoying it even.
“Dickie, it’s too much,” Todd muttered, the hand not holding Dick's throat was white knuckled on the sheet next to his head. That was of course the issue with Todd, despite all the potential in him, he was not the most well balanced individual. He was unpredictable and unable to processes strong emotions at the moment of their impact. It was interesting to watch him struggle with himself so unguardedly, fighting against whatever was in his head. While Dick, so lost in sensation, seemed not to even notice the potential flash point. Or perhaps he did, perhaps he was guiding this in some way, with his lack of fear and his complete submission.
“Jaybird,” Dick ran his fingers through Todd’s sweaty curls, pulling on the ends of the white streak. “Still got that lube?”
“Yeah you can, you won’t hurt me, I know you won’t.”
“I might,” Todd whispered his voice a little torn up.
“Nah, look at you, holding me, not hurting. You could have, but you didn’t. You won’t.”
“I don’t know if I can control it.”
Slade wondered what ‘it’ was, the after effects of the pit? Or something more basic, like all the churning emotion and rage and resentment cooped up inside the boy. Dick seemed to know, or guess anyway, and he pet Todd’s hair again, smiling at him – a private sweet moment that made Slade feel uncomfortable.
“Jay, you don’t want to do this, that’s fine, we can do something else or nothing – but if you do want to do it, and are just freaked out, we can work with that. You want me? Yes or no?”
“Yeah, fuck yeah. But-”
Dick ignored him and twisted out of his now lax grip to lean over the bed and grab the discarded lube and a condom from the draw. “You only have to be gentle for the first bit – then I want you to fuck me so hard I feel it for days .” He flicked the rubber at Todd’s face with a grin and uncapped the lube with a quick snap of his thumb.
Todd obediently rolled on the condom, and slicked himself up with the lube Dick squirted at him. All the while watching with the same hungry expression that was probably on Slade’s face as Dick fingered himself open, one hand braced on Todd’s shoulder as they both knelt on the bed.
True to his word, Grayson kept things at his pace – positioning himself and Todd and carefully controlling speed and angle of entry, while Todd practically vibrated with pent up need. Eventually he seemed to have everything as he wanted, on his back, with his powerful legs around Todd's waist, holding him still while he adjusted.
“Gimme a sec,” he said, and pulled Todd's head down by the ears to kiss him. Then he shifted one of his legs up to rest on Todd's shoulder, the movement graceful and easy despite the awkwardness of the position. The motion allowed Todd to fully sheath himself, and he screwed up his face preposterously as he held himself sill.
“That was permission to go,” Dick said, his voice quivering with his own desire. “Like, it was the starting pistol. A green light, Go, move !”
“Shut up, you ass,” Todd groaned, as he began to move his hips, the impressive muscles of his back bunching as he started to let go of all that nervous energy and lust.
Dick gasped and threw his head back, his body bending up to meet Todd's, taking charge and guiding the movements to get exactly what he wanted.
It was very hot to watch.
They found a fast and brutal rhythm that had Todd pressing his face into the juncture of Grayson’s neck and shoulder and Dick yanking at his hair and scratching at his back, making the most incredible, wild noises.
Slade couldn't help but imagine what it would be like when he was the one doing the fucking – he had far, far more finesse than Todd, but it was good to know Dick liked it hard and uninhibited. Not surprising really, he did love to push his body to extremes, but it was satisfying to see proof of it. When Slade finally took Dick as his, he was beginning to think he might let Todd join them – there was a certain appeal to all that lust and power combined with almost sweet naivety. It wouldn't last long though, it was only a matter of time before this became a more comfortable dance between them – assuming they didn’t do the Bat thing and run away and hide from each other when this was over. He didn’t think Grayson would just let it go, but Todd was a bit of a chip off the old block sometimes.
Grayson came first, his body taut as a bow, in a beautiful arch under Todd's greater bulk. Todd followed quickly, letting out a half strangled groan that sounded almost pained in its intensity.
Slade finished himself off with a few firm strokes. That had been quite the ride, despite all the fumbling and near disasters. He cleaned himself with some napkins rooted out of the desk draws. He saved a few – he didn’t think they were don’t for the night, there were still a few hours left for the drug to fully work out of their systems. In the meantime, he would see where his program had got to in digging up the good stuff on McVitie’s computers, at least then he could concentrate on round two, when it happened.
When Todd tentatively hinted he wouldn't be entirely adverse to switching it up, if Grayson was getting sore, it was mildly surprising to Slade, but not it seemed to Dick. Slade was sure that some of Todd’s reticence came from his history of trauma (blah blah blah etc) and no doubt the whole family wrung their hands over that at some point. But to Slade’s eyes, it seemed that part of it came from good old fashioned masculinity. And in truth. Slade could understand Todd's initial objections to getting fucked in a situation such as this, it was a vulnerable position to be in practical terms, and for him, perhaps emotionally too. But really , it was just typical macho bullshit that said it made you weak or vulnerable to be a catcher. Slade himself quite enjoyed the experience, with those of his lovers he trusted not to stab him in the back – but it hadn't always been that way. If had only been when he realised he could still be in charge, that he had felt able to explore that option.
In the past hour, Todd had been thoroughly put through his paces – Dick obviously enjoyed physical submission, he liked being restrained, liked being fucked hard, being pinched and slapped. But he was completely unable to give up control, even face down, his ass in the air and flushed a dusky pink from a spanking, he was still giving orders. The kid was just flat out bossy.
It seemed to have been a revelation to Todd – not that Dick liked to be in charge, that was pretty obvious, but that he could be that outrageously demanding while being completely physically dominated. It seemed to open some sort of door in his head, and Dick, being a great reader of people, had jumped right through it with wild, oversexed abandon.
It took even longer for them to get down to business this time – with all the boring prep work that had to go into getting Todd ready. There seemed to be an endless round of ‘are you okay?’ and ‘is this okay?’ and ‘is that too much?’ It was so tedious, Slade played a few rounds of solitaire while they figured out what position would be best and quietly but fiercely argued over lube application – a discussion that somehow deviated into the cleaning and storage of batarangs and grapple guns. Todd's position seemed to be if you didn't unpack and sort everything the moment you returned to your safe house, you were risking a future error with your equipment, Dick on the other hand, felt if you waited until you were rested you were less likely to make a mistake.
It was tiresome in the extreme.
But eventually they did get down to the fun parts – and it was worth the almost insufferable wait. After yet more bickering, they had settled with Todd on his back, legs around Grayson's waist. Todd was a big guy, with heavily muscled thighs and impressively broad shoulders. He looked good laid out like that; tense with anxiety, but with his big cock still hard against his belly.
Grayson's slimmer form seemed small in comparison, but still managed to look incredible, his movements were firm and steady, completely controlled while Todd went to pieces in the most spectacular way. There was an expression of comical surprise on Todd's face at first – like despite the repeated evidence of Grayson's enjoyment earlier, he really wasn’t expecting it to happen to him. It was bizarrely endearing, and Slade wondered if he could ever just kill the boy on a whim now, with that hilarious expresion playing in the back of his mind. Probably, but he wouldn’t enjoy it half as much.
“Is that good, Jaybird?” Grayson all but purred at him.
“I hate you.”
Dick smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He thrust his hips, slow and powerful, ending in a rolling motion that had Todd's eyes closing and his fingers scrabbling against the sheets.
“How do you want me?” Grayson asked.
It was a perfectly phrased question for Todd, who needed to at least pretend to be in charge. Slade had always been impressed with Grayson's ability to understand people and make judgements – it was part body language and micro expressions, and part empathy. While the former was incredibly helpful in a fight, the later served extremely well in all forms of emotional manipulation. Slade was never sure if he was doing it on purpose or not, whether it was instinctive, or a deliberate attempt to get what he wanted out of a person. He suspected it was a little of both – but again, a skill that could be honed to be exceptional, and if utilised properly it could make him incredibly powerful. But no, because Wayne got there first with his backwards morals and hypocrisy. Slade sighed deeply.
“Slow and steady?” Grayson grabbed a thick thigh to help angle his thrust as he moved his hips in a slow roll. “Or fast and hard?” he punctuated that with a more rapid movement, that surprised a squeak out of Todd, who apparently wasn’t so far gone he couldn’t look embarrassed.
“Give me all you’ve got, you fuckhead!”
“Slow and steady it is then,” Grayson grinned and leaned down for a long kiss as he rolled his hips, making Todd tighten his legs and arch his back a little.
Despite his attempts to keep the rhythm, Grayson speed up a bit towards the end, helped along by Todd chasing his own orgasm. Grayson came first, shuddering in Todd's arms, while Todd whined and tried to get a hand under Grayson's body so he could jerk himself off. Dick resisted being moved for a few moments while he came down from his high, then pulled out carefully, once again swatting Todd's hands away from his own neglected cock. Then he grinned like a devil and bent to swallow him whole, Todd jerked like he had been electrocuted, and came so hard it looked painful.
Dick seemed extraordinary pleased with himself, and Todd appeared stunned and completely fucked out. Maybe Slade really would re-evaluate where Todd fit into his future plans with Grayson, he had looked damn good being fucked, and Grayson looked positively sinful doing the fucking. With a little more planning, he was sure he could incorporate Todd into things – he was just as needy, just as easy to manipulate with the right nudges. It was something to consider.
But for now, it was past time to be gone. He checked he had the recording safely stashed and deleted the originals, setting up a virus to wipe the whole system once he was out the door. But before he activated it, he shot off a message to the Bats, by means of Oracle, that girl always had a few open channels just in case.
-Two lost birds found at this location. Safe and sound – make noise on entry or get an eyeful
-Who is this? Came back immediately, along with an attempt to hack the cameras. It wouldn’t take her long to bypass him, but by then it would be to late. Slade cast one last fond look at the boys, both snoring quietly as the last of the drug left their systems.
-Who is this?
-Friendly neighbourhood assassin, just passing through
-Which one? We know a few. Birds are safe until pick up?
He didn’t bother answering. Oracle was probably the most tenacious Bat out of them all, and it was going to drive her mad not to know for sure – and when she discovered the computers were completely useless, she was going to be furious.
It was a nice thought for the journey home.