The sun is barely up over the horizon when Talia wakes to the gentle coos of Damian from beside the bed. The warm aura of morning is pushing in gently from behind the curtains of the window, though the air is still slightly chilled from the night. She rolls out of bed and moves the few steps to the bassinet, and reaches a hand down to caress her child. He squirms and turns toward her hand, nuzzling against her palm, rooting and making small burbling sounds of hunger.
She sets about her usual routine of changing and feeding him, humming a soft lullaby to soothe him as she does so. Damian feels warm and soft against her chest as she rocks him gently in her arms until he falls asleep once again. She sits on the bed with him still cradled in her arms, holding him for a bit longer to make sure he stays asleep. She continues to hold him even after his breathing has steadied and deepened, and she watches the glow of morning slowly brighten around the edges of the window. She enjoys the feel of Damian's breath tickling her skin where his cheek is pressed against her chest.
Talia sighs however. She has work to do, and reluctantly, she lays Damian back down in the bassinet, swaddled in cloth, and then summons the nursemaid to keep watch over him. She gets dressed. Then, as she does every morning, goes to check on Jason.
She knows there's something wrong the moment she enters the room. He's not in his bed, but instead he's curled on the floor in the corner. There’s a loose silk robe draped over his shoulders, and he’s clutching his knees to his chest. His head is buried in his arms, which are wrapped tightly around himself.
“Jason?” Talia asks in alarm, and immediately his head snaps up. He looks straight at her, which he’s only done on rare occasions since emerging from the pit, but the green-blue of his eyes are wide and fearful. There’s recognition however, and the fear recedes slightly as he makes eye contact, but only marginally so. His eyes still look red and wet. He looks lost and vulnerable. He’s looking at her as if he wants help.
Jason’s breathing is quick and stuttering, and he doesn’t take his eyes off Talia as she moves closer. She takes it slow and measured so as not to spook a frightened animal. Once she’s within arm's reach, she kneels beside him, reaching a hand toward his shoulder. He flinches despite the gentleness of her touch, and Talia narrows her eyes as she takes in his appearance.
He’s nude under the robe. That much is clear as she draws the edge open to glance down at him. Jason shies away, and immediately brings a leg up in an attempt to cover himself, but Talia has already seen enough. A chill goes up her spine as she spies the purpling bruises across his face and encircling his neck. There are intimate red marks running down from his collarbone, but what is the most alarming is the mess of dried blood and fluid on the backs of his thighs.
Jason squirms away from her inspection, but as usual, he doesn't fight her. He lets her touch him, maneuver him, but this time she can feel the tremble of fear under his skin. She pulls him up into a standing position and he stumbles, draws the robe closed around himself, and then he sobs. Tears are tracking down his face and he looks away, as if he's ashamed.
Disturbingly, she realizes that it's the most lucid she's ever seen him, and she has to wonder at that. Perhaps it's a survival instinct, or a latent effect of the Lazarus pit—some mechanism deep in his fractured mind recognizing that he needs skill and intelligence to endure when under duress—but what trauma could have brought this on? What could have forced him out of his catatonic shell, when all her previous efforts to care and coax him back to himself had failed?
Talia knows the answer. She knows because she doesn’t have to be an expert detective to see and know what has happened to Jason. Someone forced themselves on him, and her vision goes red with anger.
"Who did this to you?" she demands. She grabs his chin firmly, forcing him to look at her.
Jason only shakes his head, pulling away.
"Who did this?" she insists again, but he's starting to grow more distraught. His chest is heaving and more tears spill from his eyes. He tries to dislodge her hand from his face by grabbing her wrist, but his hand is shaking.
Talia consciously dials back her temper, releasing his face to hold his hand in her own. His palm is clammy, and he's managed to turn away again. She changes tactics, moving instead to guide him toward the bath in the other room.
He struggles to stand, which is concerning, because she has always known Jason to be steady and purposeful in movement. He's also limping heavily, with each shift of his weight from foot to foot eliciting a pained wince. She manages to bring him to the threshold of the door, but then Jason hesitates. The muscles of his back where she's gently resting her hand have gone rigid. She applies a little more pressure, and eventually he shuffles forward into the room. He stands there awkwardly as she draws a warm bath, and then allows Talia to remove the robe.
She had expected him to fight it, to clutch at the thin material as she undressed him, but he only catches at it for a moment before letting go. He covers himself with his hands, shivering slightly in the cool morning air. He lets Talia lead him to the water, then slowly… painfully… he lowers himself down.
The water only comes up halfway to his drawn up thighs—Talia didn't have time to draw a full bath, nor does she want to. The water already runs rusty red, the dried blood dissolving away quickly. She'll need to flush the water and run it once more to ensure he's clean.
She's fastidious and matter-of-fact about it. Talia is no one's nurse, but she doesn't want to trust Jason's handling to a servant at the moment. Jason himself seems to have calmed enough that after the initial flush of water, he pushes her away and shakes his head.
"I can do it," his voice sounds like the scrape of sandpaper grit, and it's a quiet, broken sound. She thinks perhaps it's the first time she's heard him speak since he's come back to life. Whether it's stubbornness, embarrassment, or a desperate need to take back some semblance of control, only Jason knows, but he has asked for privacy, and she leaves him to it. She steps out of the bathroom and waits.
Talia considers her options as she stands guard. No one can get on and off the island without her knowing, and she's not so much concerned about evidence—she has other, more effective means of extracting the truth—but she'll have to find the perpetrator first, and then Jason's physical and mental state is of utmost concern. His sudden resurgence of cognizance needs to be factored in as well, but she needs to evaluate the implications of that first.
Jason isn't long in the bath, and after a few minutes he emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist. He's clean, but that does nothing to hide the mottled, dark patches of bruises blooming across his face and torso. They stand out starkly against his skin—he looks paler than normal, and telling from the taut expression on his face, he's still shaken.
Talia guides him forward to sit on the bed with a gentle hand on his shoulder, but he resists, and it clicks in her head that Jason doesn't want to be forced onto a bed.
She moves him to sit in a chair. "What do you remember?" she asks.
He's slow to respond, brow furrowed and eyes downcast. "I remember… you…."
He's inarticulate, but Talia can't tell if it's still from shock, if he doesn't understand, or if he simply doesn't remember anything else.
"Do you know who did this?" she presses.
He stays silent, looking away, but he doesn't offer a negative either.
"Do you remember your name? Anything before you came here?" She takes a step back, trying to gauge his overall mental acuity as he's not responding to her other questions.
He frowns at that. "I'm… Jason," he says after a pause.
"Bruce. Does that name mean anything to you?"
Something flickers across his gaze, but then he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and shakes his head, groaning as if in pain. There's something there, struggling to push to the surface, Talia thinks, but it hasn't quite broken through. Perhaps that's better for now, given what he's just gone through.
"Stay here," she says. She doesn't want to leave him alone, but she doesn't have many alternatives, and at the moment he's cleaned up and somewhat calmed down. She wants to assure him that he's safe, but she can't honestly tell him so until she finds who did this first. There's a very short list of people on the island, and she suspects she's not going to like the answer.
"I'll be back," she says. "If anyone comes into this room, fight them. Kill them. Then come find me." She turns to go, but he suddenly grabs her hand.
"Talia," he rasps, and the grip around her fingers has her instinctively moving back to sit beside him. She clasps his face in her hands, and he looks back at her, straight into her eyes. Again she's shocked at what she sees—there's confusion and fear, but there is also an awareness he hasn't demonstrated before. He knows what's been done to him, and he's hurting. He allows her to draw him in, and she embraces him as he lets out another sob, face buried in the crook of her shoulder. He's grown so much over the last year, but he still somehow feels small as she wraps her arms around him.
"I'll find who did this," she murmurs soothingly against his hair. That much she's sure of, that whoever did this will pay. She allows Jason another few moments of comfort, but as much as she wants to console him, staying here in his room, in an isolated corner of the compound, won't ensure his safety.
Talia moves to stand, placing her hands on his shoulders to keep him seated. He doesn't speak again, only shaking his head to show his dismay, but despite his agitation he stays put. Good. Talia moves to the wardrobe and retrieves a fresh set of clothes, laying it beside him. “Put this on, and wait here.”
He takes the clothing, gripping it in his hands, and Talia pauses and watches him. She waits to observe what he does next. Judging by the way he swallows and the way he seems to be trying to keep his breath even and under control, this lucid state isn't just a fluke. She would have been relieved and pleased if the situation had been different, but at the moment she only feels a wrenching ache in her heart. She watches as he finally nods his head before she turns to go.
She’s barely turned the corner of the hall, when another figure approaches from the opposite end—a tall, broad muscled mass of a man—none other than her father’s loyal servant, Ubu.
Under the right circumstances, wherein if Jason were somehow incapacitated—if he was restrained or even drugged—one such as Ubu could easily overpower Jason with his size.
“Was it you?” It comes out like a snarl as she stomps up to him. He's far larger than her, but she's in possession of her full abilities, unhindered, and full of anger. She's a better fighter. She's smarter. And she won't hesitate to take his head for this.
He only smirks in response, however, and says, “Your father would speak with you."
“Answer the question.” She draws the dagger sheathed at her belt.
Ubu does falter at that. He knows Talia could take him down, and raising a hand against the Demon's Daughter is tantamount to a death sentence. "Lady Talia," he says more respectfully, "I have done nothing that was not the will of the Demon's Head." Then he repeats, "Your father would speak with you."
Something's not right with the situation. She knows it in her gut. Ubu isn't lying, she can tell—he's never had the intellect or the disposition for subterfuge—but if he's telling the truth then the options that are left are….
No, she tells herself. She doesn’t want to believe it, but as she follows Ubu toward her father’s study, something inside her coils in dread. She crosses the threshold, and she notes that Ubu does not follow. Instead, he waits outside and closes the door behind her.
Her father is expecting her as she enters the room. His back is turned to the large eastward-facing window of the compound so that he is backlit by the bright morning sun. Golden rays stream from behind him, and with the high collar of his cloak turned fully up, his face is obscured in shadow. In contrast to his dark mien, the vermillion green and gold trim of the cloak stands out in brilliance where the sunlight halos around him. It gives him a spectral quality, and it is not reassuring at all.
It was him. She knows it immediately—like a strike through her heart—that it was her father, Ra's al Ghul. He was the man who raped her charge. The Demon's Head himself had put his hands on Jason.
"How dare you!" Before she even fully realizes it, she's flying at him, the dagger unsheathed and ready to strike. "How dare you touch him!"
Talia slashes upward with her blade, an attack that in full effect would have opened his throat, jugular to carotid, spilling hot blood to match her fiery rage. She was trained as an assassin, the motions of a lethal strike are ingrained into her muscle memory, and she does not hold back.
Ra's anticipates her attack however, and he parries. He counters with a jab at the nerve of her shoulder, sending a jolt of pain down her arm. It loosens her grip on the dagger, and then Ra's draws a sword from his belt. He lunges forward before she can recover, and he manages to slice a cut into her side. It's not deep, though she can feel the heat of blood gush down her thigh, but she has to twist and spin to avoid being skewered. Her father anticipates that too, and brings his hand up in the opposite direction to backhand her hard across the face.
She goes down, and Ra's is immediately upon her, kicking the dagger out of her hand. Talia tries to roll, but her limbs suddenly feel heavy and unresponsive. Her father has poisoned his blade with some sort of fast-acting paralytic. She still fumbles to try and get up, but she's shoved down again by the press of her father's boot against her back.
She manages to turn her head to look back at him, but then feels the tip of his sword press against the side of her neck. One flick of his wrist, and her father could choose to bleed her out on the floor.
Talia snarls in frustration. Her cheeks burn in defeat. She's disarmed and immobilized, and she has no leverage and no plan. Her father was prepared for her to fight him, and she had rushed in like an emotional fool.
"You will regret that, my daughter," Ra's' voice is low and calm. "I suspected you would have reservations. I know you have grown fond of the boy, but you will now relinquish him to me."
"No! Father, you–." She's cut off as the boot at her back shoves forcefully down, compressing the breath from her lungs. There's a gradual increase in pressure, then a sudden jerk of her father's heel digging into her flesh. There's the blunt sound of a snap—the breaking of bone. Her father has broken a rib, and Talia can't help but cry out in pain.
"Nnngah!" She tries to stifle the outburst, but the sharp throbbing pain is radiating all along her side.
"I am not ungrateful nor without compassion," her father continues, almost sweetly, as if he were not the one currently crushing her chest. "You have granted me a boon, and I assure you, I will see to his needs. Pledge your obeisance to me, accept that you have brought me a most useful and valued gift, and I will grant you forgiveness."
"How could you!" She grinds through her clenched teeth. "He is not yours."
Ra's responds by pressing down harder. "He is most certainly mine. And your duty is to your child and my heir. While it would be ideal for Damian to be raised by a true al Ghul, I am sure a substitute can be found."
The threat is clear. If Talia refuses, her father will take Damian away—forcibly separating her from her son. "You wouldn't," Talia says, but in her heart, she already knows he would. "You can't do this. Father, don't," she extends a final plea as she tries to throw off her father’s weight, but the poison is effective, leaving her helplessly pinned to the ground.
Her father only responds by bearing down harder. There's another crunch as the bones of her ribs grind together. "Have I taught you nothing?" Ra's growls. "An al Ghul does not beg!"
Ra's emphasizes the point with another forceful kick to her injured ribs. "So be it," he sneers. "Until you learn to obey, you will–."
He doesn't finish, because from off to the side a vicious snarl cuts through his words. There is a blur of motion as something—or rather someone—suddenly barrels into Ra's from across the room.
The weight is gone from her back, and Talia pushes through the poison in her veins and the pain in her ribs so she's propped up onto her elbows. She turns her head to see it is Jason who has broken into the room, and he is now attempting to wrestle her father to the ground. He manages to disarm Ra's of the sword, and the blade goes flying, clattering against the floor and coming to a stop several feet away.
They both make a lunge for it, but to Talia's dismay, her father rolls and grabs Jason's ankle just as he is about to grasp the hilt. Ra's yanks hard, wrenching his ankle and twisting as he does so, and Jason lets out a cry of pain.
Jason doesn't stop reaching for the sword however, and—yes!—he manages to take hold of the hilt. Ra's has to let go of Jason and duck out of the way lest he catches the poisoned edge as Jason swings the blade down. Then in a blink of an eye they're both on their feet. Jason backs away toward Talia, holding the sword in a defensive stance, though he is heavily limping on his twisted ankle.
Ra's however, is not the least bit cowed by being bested. In fact, there's a curl at the corners of his mouth that Talia can only describe as a leer, and she knows that look. Her father has been preparing for this. He has some kind of leverage, and as Jason leans down to help her to her feet, that leverage makes itself clear….
There's a pitched wail coming from outside the door. The cry of a baby. Talia's son, Damian. And as the door creaks open, the nursemaid who had been watching over Damian in Talia's absence is pushed through the door. Her head lolls awkwardly as she collapses onto the floor, a dark red pool of blood rapidly spreading from her neck. Her throat has been cut.
Talia stares, eyes wide and heart threatening to hammer through her chest as none other than Ubu follows into the room, sidestepping the nursemaid's body. He's holding a large curved blade in his hand, still dripping blood.
In the distance, there is another cry from Damian. The sound of his screams momentarily obliterates any other concern, and Talia instinctively reacts. She tries to run for the door, to find her son and hold him protectively in her arms until he is quiet and calm, but the paralytic is still in effect. As soon as she pulls away from Jason's support, she stumbles. Jason manages to catch her before she falls. Talia still tries desperately to heave herself forward, but the sound of her father's imperious tone causes her to pause.
"It is your choice, boy," he says looking straight at Jason, and it sounds like a taunt despite his calm reserve. "Cooperate. Submit. Serve me, and I shall make you great. My daughter will be treated to her rights and privileges as the Demon's Daughter. She will remain here with my grandson. Refuse, and I will still make you mine, but I will send my daughter into exile, and she will never see him again. My grandson will be raised by my own hand."
The words hit Talia like a slap in the face. “No!” she exclaims as her mind scrambles for an alternative. She can’t let herself or Damian be separated, but she can’t leave Jason to her father’s perversity either. If only she can reach Damian, perhaps she can find a way to escape the island. She knows her father has already considered this however, as she can’t access transport without her father knowing. The Sensei, Ubu, and the remaining servants are loyal to her father and her father alone. Given a few days she can access the accounts and contacts that she has held in reserve, but she doesn’t have the luxury of time. The threat is immediate and imminent.
Talia has no answer at the moment. She has no solution except her weak protest. “I won’t allow it!” she says, and once more she tries to break away, to drag Jason with her so they can find Damian, but it is all for naught. She knows she won’t make it like this, not with her father and Ubu already three steps ahead of her. Not with the poison effectively making her deadweight. There’s no way she can fight her way out like this. There's no way she can get herself, Damian, and Jason out of this in time.
“You can’t do this!” Her eyes are burning. She digs her nails into Jason's arm, refusing to let go, but Jason isn't looking at her. He's looking straight back at Ra's, and there's a flicker of rebellion. Hate. Anger. But then he looks away. He looks down.
"I'll do it." It's almost a whisper, with Jason nearly swallowing the last word as he clenches his jaw. Talia still heard it, however, and so did her father.
Talia's grip tightens. "Jason!" she exclaims, and she hates the way her voice breaks over his name, but her father is already talking over her, ignoring her outcry.
"Good. A wise choice. Now drop the sword," Ra's commands, and Jason lets it fall to the floor with a clang. He kicks it, hilt first toward Ra's, who then picks it up and approaches. He levels the tip to rest in the notch of Jason's collarbone.
Jason doesn't move. He doesn't shift his gaze from Ra's, but he says, "Don't... hurt her. Damian…. He stays."
Ra's only smiles, the morning sun glinting wickedly off his Lazarus-green eyes. He nods a signal toward Ubu, who then moves forward and suddenly grabs Talia, jerking her away from Jason.
Jason moves to intercept, but is stopped by the blade still pressed to his throat.
"She will be released and my grandson returned to her," Ra's explains, "but only after I have assurances that both of you are in agreement with the terms."
"No," Talia struggles, but she's still too weak from the paralytic, and Ubu begins to drag her out of the room.
The last thing she sees before the door closes is Jason standing rigidly with his fists balled at his sides as her father approaches. Ra's reaches a hand out to tilt up Jason's chin, then bends his head down, leaning in to press his mouth to Jason's in a forceful kiss.
Ra’s can’t help the grin that spreads wide across his face as he looks at the boy standing before him. He had planned for the need to convince his daughter to accept his decision to take ownership of the boy, but this—with the boy himself submitting to Ra’s’ servitude—this is even better. To have the boy looking back at him with the fire of sentience in his eye is appealing. It far exceeds what he had hoped to obtain through simple ravishment of an empty shell.
A surge of arousal begins to build within him as Ra’s steps forward, gripping the boy’s jaw to force his mouth open. Ra’s crushes their mouths together with a click of teeth, licking across his lips and pushing his tongue in deep to taste the wet heat there, savouring the whimper that escapes the boy’s throat as Ra’s continues to plunder his mouth. The boy accepts the invasion, but he doesn’t reciprocate. However subtle, he still resists.
Ra’s entwines his fingers in the boy’s hair, tugging his head back so Ra’s can explore the sweetness of him further. He prolongs the kiss, drawing it out until he is thoroughly out of breath. He pulls back finally, dragging air into his lungs, and takes the opportunity to inspect the boy. Jason is panting, his breath shallow and uneven, and his lips are shining wet from being kissed. A pink flush decorates his cheeks, and Ra's thinks that in all his long years, he's rarely seen anything so beautifully wanton.
Jason's eyes are cast to the side however. He’s not looking at Ra’s directly, though he can tell the boy is still observing him through the corner of his eye.
Curious, Ra’s thinks. There is certainly a cleverness present that wasn't there before. The boy is more aware, but by how much? Jason intervened on his daughter’s behalf, but Ra’s has to wonder how much he knows. Does he remember his time from before his resurrection from the pit?
Ra's runs his hand down the front of the tunic the boy is wearing. The material is thin, and he can feel the tense muscles underneath.
"Your previous master hardly knew your true value. He clipped your wings, like a little bird. Like a robin. Tell me, boy," Ra's runs his hand further down, cupping over the boy's groin, "what would he say if he saw you now?” Ra’s keeps his words cryptic. He wants to see how the boy reacts.
Jason does turn his eyes to him, but his expression is not that of shock or alarm. He simply looks… puzzled. He remains silent, which is another interesting point. He speaks, but only at the bare minimum. Perhaps he’s still not wholly there, his mind and memories still piecemeal and not fully intact.
Ra's runs his hand along the length of the boy's cock, stroking gently, trying to draw out his arousal. He twitches slightly under Ra's hand. Good.
"He left you to die. He wasted you." Ra's squeezes gently at the boy's cockhead, causing him to squirm and pull away. Perhaps it's telling that that elicits more of a reaction from him than the probe at his memories. His recollection is inadequate, but his arousal remains ever intact. "I however," Ra's continues, "will make sure you are used to your full potential."
Ra's moves his hand between the boy's legs to knead his fingers over his sac. He responds with a quick intake of air, a flinch that jostles his whole body, and as Ra's expects, the boy's flaccid member begins to stir.
Ra's steps back, pleased with boy's responsiveness, but Ra's has only begun. "Take off your clothes," he commands, and waits.
This time the boy is slower to respond. He lifts his hands to the hem of his tunic, but then pauses. He grips the cloth between his fingers, then closes his eyes and swallows. Ra's watches the movement flow down the column of his throat, the way his breath seems to hitch, and then the way he tries to regather himself, consciously slowing his breathing.
Ra's continues to wait. The boy is forcing himself to break to Ra's' will, and watching his internal struggle is unexpectedly fascinating. The boy takes a deep breath, and then finally, in one smooth motion, he pulls the shirt over his head.
He follows more quickly with the loose fitting pants, as if wanting to complete the action before losing his nerve. He pulls the drawstring loose and hooks his thumbs into the hem to push the waistband over his hips, then lets them drop around his ankles to the floor. He is wearing nothing underneath.
Ra's smiles, a feeling of triumph swelling through him as he looks on. Jason is a magnificent specimen indeed, and though Ra's is now intimately familiar with his form, he is far from tired of taking in the sight of the boy's sculpted features. The lines of his body are drawn with tension and Ra's' eyes rove downward, relishing the way the crests of his hips frame the lower expanse of his torso, leading down to the light dusting of hair over his flaccid cock. His thighs are well muscled. Ra's thinks again to himself, that the boy before him is truly in peak form, and Ra's can't help but lick his lips as the confines of his trousers begins to feel tight.
The boy quivers slightly under Ra's' scrutiny, and though he appears nervous and fearful, he now meets Ra's' eye, his glare like smoldering flame. He looks like a wild animal, bitterly resentful at being tamed.
Even better that the boy has such spirit. Ra's intends to enjoy breaking him in. He wants to feel that wild strength and those lithe muscles surrender beneath him.
Ra's binds the boy's hands behind his back first with leather cords. It is unnecessary, as the boy had come easily to Talia's aid and the threat to her well-being should be enough to control him. However, the idea of keeping the boy bound is appealing.
There is a chaise under one of the windows of the study, and Ra's hauls the boy over to it and shoves him down onto his back. There isn't much room on the chaise, it's narrow in width but with a contoured armrest on the side. Ra's bends the boy over it, with the back of his shoulders hanging over the armrest, hands trapped beneath him so that he is slightly arched. Ra's plants a knee between the boys thighs, keeping one foot on the floor, and leans over him.
Up close Ra's can see the beautiful necklace of purple bruises mottling his throat from the night before. He bends down and traces his tongue over them, sucking at the boy's skin and leaving a fresh layer of reddened marks. He can feel the rapid pulse of the boy as he grazes his lips over the dip just below his jaw. In a moment of overwhelming passion, Ra's bites down, just hard enough to break skin so he can taste the coppery blood within. It runs together with the salt of the boy's sweat.
Delicious, Ra's thinks. The boy is truly a treat.
The boy jolts beneath him, and Ra's can feel him go rigid as a small gasp escapes his lips. The sound and taste of him—it's gloriously intoxicating, and Ra's can barely restrain himself from simply impaling the boy with his hardness right then and there, ravishing him until he screams nothing but Ra's' name.
He holds back however, because he has already proven that point. He has already driven himself into that hot, puckered hole, letting the boy's tightness milk Ra's' lust until he was satisfied. He is determined to repeat the experience soon, but first he wants the boy to know the depth to which he is now owned.
Ra's moves to fondle the boy's flaccid member again, this time pulling a bottle from his cloak and pouring a generous amount of lubricant into his hand before he does so. He takes the length of the boy in hand, beginning a slow rhythmic stroke, starting at the base of his cock, up to the head and back down. It doesn't take long for the boy to become fully hard. His hips are twitching under the ministrations, though he's trying to hold himself still.
"Exquisite." Ra's reaches up and threads a hand through the boy's hair, gripping it between his fingers and forcing the boy to look at him. "Do not release yourself from your binds until I allow it. Do you understand?" The leather strips Ra's has tied around his hands are more for show than anything. He knows the boy can escape them easily.
Jason doesn't say anything. He's panting again, and his face is flushed from arousal. He swallows and closes his eyes, and tears leak down his face.
"Do you understand?" Ra's repeats, giving a stern yank to his hair.
The boy nods. Good.
Ra's continues the slow stroking of Jason's hardness, nudging a finger into his hole with his other hand, and the boy lets out a wet sound, like a sob. He bites his lip to keep from crying out, but opens his mouth again in a sharp gasp when Ra's quickens the pace, until the boy can't hide the little whines and sighs that betray the pleasure he is feeling. His chest is heaving—up and down, up and down—his hips flexing and thrusting involuntarily with each swipe of Ra's' hand on his cock, with each push and pull of Ra's' finger in his hole—in and out, in and out.
The writhing movements of the boy's flesh is too enticing to resist. Ra's dips his head down to tongue over the buds of his nipples, and the boy lets out the most sensual moan he's ever emitted. It's beautiful, the way he arches his back, the way his muscles ripple, the way his body allows itself to be played and the way the boy sings at each touch.
Soft little whimpers. "Ah!" he says, followed by a pitched moan.
Ra's is riveted as the boy spills a cascade of plaintive tones from his lips. He watches the boy’s attempt to stifle the sounds as he slows the stroking again, rubbing his thumb in slow circles around the slit of his cockhead, before increasing the speed, then repeating the cycle over again. He adds a second finger inside the boy and continues, squeezing as he rolls his wrist, which elicits the most precious mewl from the boy's parted mouth.
He continues until he can tell the boy is beginning to crest by the tightening of the ring of muscle around his fingers, and by the feel of the rapid hitches and sobs as Ra's continues to kiss at the rosy buds of his chest. The boy begins to whine at the oncoming release. He's now thrusting up into Ra's hand, his head thrown back, shaking his head side to side as if trying to deny that his body has already given in. Ra's feels the pulse of the boy's cock nearing the edge, and then suddenly stops.
He releases the boy's throbbing erection and pulls his other hand from teasing his hole. The boy lets out a whimper, as if in pain from the sudden withdrawal.
Ra's smiles. The boy's cock is twitching in disappointment over his belly, beads of sticky precome dripping from the head. Ra's swipes his finger lightly along where the leaking fluid has collected on the boy's skin, then rubs the slickness of it against each perked nipple.
Those soft whimpers come again. A muted "hnnn" and "ah" as the boy tries to suppress how much he is enjoying the sensual touch. He shakes his head again, but his body does not lie. His body has succumbed to Ra's will, even if the boy consciously objects.
Ra's resumes the stroking, each time bringing the boy to the precipice of orgasm, and then immediately ceasing. The boy cries at each deprivation. He twists on the chaise, his hands still bound behind his back, squirming and panting. Ra's pauses again from touching the boy's cock, and the boy emits a lovely wail. He brings his legs up, trying to give himself some friction to ease the sudden loss of contact, but Ra's grips his thighs and pushes them back down.
They feel hard and tense under Ra's hands. There is such power in them. He can feel the tremor of muscles as the boy exercises restraint. He runs his hands up and down over them, teasing at the crook of the boy's groin with his thumbs, rubbing just shy of his erect member, then moving back down. The next time he bends the boy over, he will enjoy spreading open his beautiful thighs, but for now Ra's wants to continue teaching the boy how to bend to his will.
Ra's dips down to taste the little rosy buds of the boy's chest again. He nips at them, breaking a little skin, leaving a trail of passion marks as he moves down further and further to suck and nip at the flesh of his quivering belly.
The boy lets out tiny yips at the pain, but Ra's soothes them with his tongue, lapping away the blood, and reinforcing the feel of pleasure as he starts to stroke his hand over the boy's cock again. It is flushed red and ruddy, thoroughly hard and dripping from being stimulated repeatedly. It throbs and twitches all on it's own in Ra's hand.
Ra's lets out a low chuckle, "Do you want me to complete you, boy? Do you want this?" he squeezes the boy's cock a little harder. "Do you want me to finish you?"
The boy sobs in response. The shake of his head says one thing, but the moan that accompanies it says another. He's incoherent, Ra's concludes, too caught up in the overwhelming pleasure. He can tell the boy's body is desperately seeking release—desperate for Ra's to guide him over the edge, and Ra's decides to allow it. He jacks his hand, up and down, quicker and harder, graciously leading the boy into ecstasy. He plunges the fingers of his other hand back into the boy's hole, feeling the pulsating clench of the ring of muscle as the boy arches before him.
"Perfect, boy," Ra's croons. "Your body is mine. Come for me. Sing for me."
All at once the boy is bowing into himself as the first spurt of hot seed spills over Ra's' hand. The boy cries out a sensual moan, and Ra's takes the boy's mouth once more, swallowing each tearful whimper with a kiss. He continues until the boy's spasms die down, though when he pulls away the boy is still shaking.
Ra's rears back to take in the state of the boy, and he looks wonderfully ruined. Tears track down his face. His mouth is twisted into a grimace. His lips tremble.
Those wet, flushed lips…, they simply yearn to be touched. Ra's' hand is still covered in the boy's spend, and he wipes it over the boy's stomach, turning it into a caress as he does so. The boy flinches as Ra's trails his fingers up and up along his chest, pausing to graze his nipples, following the line of bruises on his throat, and then tracing his fingers along the swell of the boy's lips. Ra's wants to further claim that beautiful mouth.
Ra's unfastens his shirt, letting it hang open, and then with a quick flick of his belt and fly, Ra's pulls his erection free from his trousers. He gives himself a quick stroke with a sigh, but he's already fully hard. He's been straining for too long, and his manhood is leaking droplets of seed from the tip.
He grabs the boy by the hair and pulls him into a sitting position, then presses the head of his cock to his closed mouth, rubbing pre-come back and forth across his lips.
"There isn't anything that the Lazarus pit won't heal," Ra's warns, "but if you bite, I'll tear yours and my daughters throats out all the same."
Ra's is a little breathless, the anticipation of what comes next has his manhood throbbing in his hand. More wet seed leaks from the head and Ra's continues to smear it across the boy's lips. The fluid drips down his chin.
"Open up for me," Ra's commands, dragging his cock downward to pull at the boy's bottom lip.
Slowly, the boy parts his lips, and Ra's can feel the hot puffs of his breath tickling the head of his cock. "Open up for me, that's it. Open that pretty mouth," Ra's encourages, and finally, he opens wide enough for Ra's to push himself in.
He's enveloped in glorious wet heat. It feels like bliss, and the spread of those beautiful lips around Ra's' thickness is magnificent. The boy is working his jaw open wide to take Ra's in, and Ra's can feel the slimy slide of his soft tongue on the underside of his cock as he gives a few initial thrusts. In and out, in and out.
Ra's lets out a deep moan as he pushes himself in deeper, hitting the back of the boy's throat. He holds himself there, feeling the reflexive contraction of the boy's throat as he gags. It squeezes the tip of Ra's' cockhead, drawing out another moan, because the feel of those muscles massaging his cock is remarkable, and he wants more.
He is sheathed inside the boy's mouth, but Ra's is a well endowed man, and there is still some length that the boy has not fully taken in. Ra's uses both hands to grip the boy's hair and shoves himself all the way down into the boy's mouth, past the pulsing constriction of his pharynx, until he can feel the press of the boy's nose against the hair of his groin.
The boy tries to jerk away. His air is fully cut off and he can't breathe, but Ra's is enjoying the contraction around his cock too much to care. He doesn't let go for several seconds, moving his hands to the back of the boy's head to crush his face into Ra's pelvis.
Finally, Ra's releases the boy's head, and immediately he twists away, dropping back onto the chaise, gasping and coughing out strands of spittle and precome.
Ra's smiles. He's not even close to being finished, and he reaches for the boy once more, pulling him into position with his back arched over the armrest and his head hanging over the edge. Ra's steps to the side of the chaise, grabs a fistful of the boy's hair and yanks his head back so his head is bent upside down, exposing the column of his throat. Ra's revels in the sight—the patches of bruises, the red welt from where Ra's had sunk his teeth through his skin, at the reddened nubs of his nipples, his chest pulled taut with his hands still tied behind his back. Then down to the mess of drying come on the boy's stomach, his softened penis, and then the flex of his thighs as he tries to find purchase in his awkward placement on the chaise.
He gives the boy another tug on his hair, then plunges himself deep into the boy's mouth, all the way down past the back wall of his throat once more. The boy chokes and sputters around his cock, and Ra's watches gleefully as his throat bulges each time Ra's pushes himself into the tight channel of his pharynx. He watches it contract each time he pulls back, and then he repeats the act, shoving himself back in before the boy can take a proper breath.
He can hear the sounds of the boy gagging, a rhythmic gulping sound as the boy struggles to expel the thick cock battering his throat, but it is to no avail. Ra's continues to fuck into his face, moving his hips faster and faster and thrusting to the hilt each and every time. He feels the occasional scrape of teeth, the suck and pull against his cockhead as the boy reflexively tries and tries to inhale, only for Ra's’ swollen erection to plug his airway over and over again.
The boy is bucking and thrashing hard beneath him, losing his ability to restrain himself as his body begins to fail from suffocation. Any moment now, Ra’s anticipates he’s going to clamp down, and so Ra’s unhooks his cloak, and jams the metal fastener between the boy’s teeth, preventing him from biting down.
He continues fucking into the boy's throat, throwing his head back and grunting with each thrust. He looks down when he feels hands pushing back on his hips, and sees that the boy has freed himself from his bindings. His wrists are bleeding and rubbed raw from the leather cords, but his movements are weak from hypoxia.
Ra's is getting close, snapping his hips quicker, feeling the boy's nose buried against his taint each time he bottoms out in his mouth. He slows to a rolling grind as he feels the tension building within himself. The grunts that accompany each thrust are running together into something like a long growl, and the boy's responding gulps and gags are pushing him closer and closer to the cusp of release.
It starts with a bloom of heat at the root of his manhood, he feels the tightening at the base of his groin, and then like the breaking of a dam the orgasm crashes through him. He comes with a shout—howling as he shudders through the pleasure that rocks his entire body. He pumps every last bit of seed into the boy's mouth, digging his nails into the boy's scalp to fix him in place. The thick, pale fluid of his come oozes and gushes out of the corners of the boy's stretched lips. The boy struggles weakly, convulsing in a final bid to breathe, and reluctantly, after a final jerk of his hips, Ra's lets go and pulls himself out.
There's the sound of a great heaving and hacking, and Ra's looks down blearily to see the boy has rolled onto the floor. He's on his side, his face is a mess of tears, and semen is smeared all around his swollen lips. It dribbles down his chin in thick rivulets as he spits and sputters between desperate inhalations. He tries to wipe at his mouth but his hands are trembling and uncoordinated. His whole body is covered in sweat and Ra's can see the that blood collects under his skin where he has left fresh bruises. He can see the bright red dotted crescents where Ra's has punctured the boy's skin with his teeth.
Ra's smiles as he tucks himself back in and kneels beside the boy. On a whim, he draws the boy into his arms. "Well done," he shushes the boy's renewed sobs, even as the boy tries to push himself away. "You've done incredibly well. You've surpassed all my expectations for you."
It's true. Ra's feels immensely satisfied, perhaps more so than after their first coupling. He anticipates that it will only get better from here on as he learns the boy's body more and more intimately, as he pushes and pushes the boy to his limits.
"I have so many plans for you," Ra's leans down and kisses the tears away from his eyes. He licks his lips, tasting the salt of them, but he can't help but think to himself that the taste of the boy is surprisingly sweet.
"Mmm," Ra's hums, pleased with the outcome. His daughter truly has brought him a boon. Unfortunate that he had to threaten her, but Ra's knows that she will come around. Given time, and she will see that the boy will rise to greatness under his care. He's proven his worth in bed, and he has shown great potential in battle.
The fight in him is extraordinary, Ra's thinks. It didn't escape his notice that even after submitting himself to be used, the boy had still fought instinctively when put under stress. He recalls the fierceness in the boy's eye when he had undressed, and how much effort it had taken the boy to suppress his rebellion.
That kind of instinct and drive is useful, a rare innate quality that cannot be learned easily. It just has to be trained. The boy will have to fully understand now that his body is for Ra's' to use for both his fighting ability and for Ra's' pleasure. It will take time to sufficiently break the boy into the terms of his service, but time and patience is something Ra's has plenty of experience with.
Ra's looks down to the boy in his arms, only to find that he is unconscious, passed out from the exertion of their intercourse. Perhaps he has earned his rest. The boy is now available to Ra's at his beck and call, and there will be plenty more opportunity for him to sate himself on the boy.
Ra's smiles to himself at that. Yes, he has plenty of time. After all, this was only the beginning.
Jason doesn't know if it's a dream or not, but in his mind's eye he can recall faded images of bubbling waters, alight with an eerie green glow. He thinks he remembers the feel of it sloshing over him, of something burning hot in his lungs and some kind loud roaring sound in his ears, but he can't make out the source. It sounds almost like the rush of blood from the beating of his own heart, and there's something else too, like a voice calling his name, but it's muffled. Everything's blurry, and he opens his mouth to call out, only to find himself gulping in water.
It's only then that he realizes that he's not looking down into the water, but up from within it. Everything's a blur because he's submerged in the pool, and that hot burning sensation is the water that has filled his lungs. He thrashes, struggling to break the surface, but he just keeps sinking and sinking.
Finally someone grabs his hand and pulls him up, holds him to her chest and strokes his hair. She whispers hushed assurances, soothing him with a warm, gentle touch. He remembers this. He knows this memory isn't a dream. He remembers her. He knows her—Talia.
But something isn't right. It feels like he's submerged in water, but this isn't the same as his memory. The touch that he feels against his cheek isn't gentle. The hand is firm and warm, but there's something about it that makes his skin crawl.
He shifts away, and his whole body seems to ache in protest. Something inside him screams urgency. Something inside him is saying he needs to wake up, to stop hiding, and that he's in danger.
Jason flutters open his eyes and flails outward with his hands, only for them to smack against a solid body and bare skin. Someone is holding him, and that someone immediately drops him. Jason sinks, the water rushing over his head before he can gulp for air. He swallows a mouthful of water, but he immediately thrashes until he gets his feet under him, righting himself to find he's waist deep in some kind of pond or spring, and the water is warm and shallow.
He goes into a fit of coughing as he tries to expel the water in his lungs. He balances his hands on the lip of the pool and leans over the edge as he heaves. In the back of his mind, he notes the water is lightly rose scented, and he can taste the bitterness of the perfume on his tongue. Once he’s sufficiently cleared his airway, eyes still stinging with tears, he looks up to see he’s in some kind of bathing pool, set just outside a secluded corner of the compound.
Jason swallows, confused as to how he got here, and the action of his throat constricting hurts, and then he remembers why that is.
The memories flash before him—a man leaning over him, a sharp pain as he bit into Jason's skin. The climax that man had forced Jason to surrender. The revulsion, the horror, and the burning suffocation as the man rammed himself down Jason's throat.
There is a sound of sloshing water behind Jason, and terror seizes him as he spins around, eyes landing on the man who has laid claim to him—the Master of this island. Jason knows his name. Ra's al Ghul. He's standing a few feet behind Jason, arms crossed over his bare chest, watching. The corner of his mouth curves upward, and a chill runs down Jason's spine.
He remembers that look—that mockery of a smile. It was that same look from the night before. He remembers that lecherous leer appearing above him, after Ra's clawed and dug and ripped away at the layers and layers of fog and cotton wool that protected Jason's psyche, when Ra's finally peeled back enough of his defenses to expose a raw awareness—forcing his mind to reconnect with his body.
He saw that cruel twist of Ra's' mouth when he surfaced from oblivion. He saw that same lustful green-eyed stare as Ra's panted and moaned above him, when Ra's was inside him, boring into him through and through, his face contorted in sadistic pleasure as he tore Jason apart with each painful grind of his hips.
After that, Jason remembers mostly the pain. He’d tried to sink back into himself, but now that he's been ripped out of his shell, he can’t get back in…. He has woken into a nightmare with no escape.
Then Talia had found him. Talia, who he knew. Who had felt familiar and safe. He trusts her, though he doesn't quite remember why, and when he had heard her cry out he hadn't hesitated to run to her aid.
And now he was here. Ra's had won. He knew it the moment Ra's let him take hold of the sword. He knew it the moment that came after, where Ra's' only response was that cruel twist of his mouth again. Ra's wants Jason so that he can rend everything in him open and bare, so that he can violate Jason again and again. Something inside Jason wants to crack and splinter into a thousand pieces at that.
Ra's approaches him now, and Jason can't help but instinctively back away. His movements are hampered by a pervading soreness, and he's pretty sure his ankle is sprained. Despite the ache in his muscles, there is also an urgent feeling within, telling him to fight the other man off before he can force Jason beneath him again, but something stops him.
Now isn't the time, some voice inside him whispers. Not yet. Act when you know you can win.
It's true, Jason thinks. He can't win. Not now. Not like this.
Assess. Plan. Know your enemy, the voice says, and Jason has fleeting remembrances of someone speaking those deep, rumbling words in a rough and pedantic tone. He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared….
It's ephemeral, like the dying echo of a memory. Nothing Jason can place, but he listens. Instinct is all he has at the moment. His memory shifts like grains of sand, falling into and over themselves before he can grasp any of them between his fingers.
What he has left is the sinking feeling that he is caught too far in a quagmire, with the knowledge that he has no leverage to escape. His memories fail him. He has quickly learned the extent of Ra's cruelty, but he doesn't know enough of his weakness to form a plan. He doesn't know how to get himself or Talia or her child away from wherever this is. Jason's not even sure who she is to him or what he means to her. He doesn’t know why he did what he has done for her. He only knows that he felt he must, and that he does not question it.
What this means is that until he can find a solid means of escape, he needs to bow and bend under Ra's' brutal hand.
The scenario is easier in his mind than in reality, because Ra's is within arm’s reach now, and it takes everything within Jason not to flinch as the other man cups his cheek. He tilts Jason's chin up, running a thumb along his bottom lip, then grazing his finger along the sore spot on his neck where Ra's had bitten him. Jason recoils and pulls away.
Ra's grabs his hair and stops him. "You recovered more quickly than I anticipated. Good. You're resilient."
Jason feels Ra's' gaze roam over him, and he's suddenly very conscious of the fact that they're both nude. The water serves little in the way to cover modesty, and even less so as a barrier to ward him off. Ra's presses up against him, and Jason can feel the heat of his half-had prick against his thigh. He doesn't move any further however. Instead Ra's merely holds firm the fingers in Jason's hair, forcing him to meet the cold green intensity of Ra's' eyes. They glint like gemstones, some kind of inner glow holds Jason's gaze fast.
“The League. The Light," he says, then pauses, studying Jason for some sort of reaction. “What do you know?"
Jason's not sure how he's supposed to react. He understands the words, but he doesn't know if they’re supposed to mean something more.
"Gotham,” Ra’s continues. Then after another pause, "The Bat."
Some of those words seem familiar, but like his other memories, they're just more grains of sand he cannot grasp. He feels a faint impression of a looming form shrouded in shadows, and then nothing. Jason shakes his head.
“Speak,” Ra’s commands. “Do not pretend you are unable. Tell me what you remember from before.”
Jason swallows as he tries to form a response. His throat hurts, but that's not the only reason he is slow to speak. It's somehow hard to find the right words, and he has to focus very carefully to form a sentence.
"I… I don't remember." He struggles through the words, and not without pain. His voice is little more than a rasp.
Ra’s narrows his eyes, and Jason can’t help but think that he looks like a viper ready to strike. However, to his surprise Ra’s pulls away. He releases his hold on Jason, and turns toward the edge of the pool.
Jason averts his gaze as he climbs out. He doesn’t want to see the hard lines of the other man’s back. He doesn’t want to be reminded of what it felt like to have the other man on top of him. Jason closes his eyes, but unlike his other memories, this one refuses to sink into oblivion. He can still see that lewd smile, the seering brightness of Ra's green eyes, somehow expanding until he's enveloped in green waters….
"Come, boy!" The sharp bark severs him from the nightmarish spiral, landing him back into a reality that is no better. He sees Ra’s waiting impatiently at the edge of the pool. He’s dried off and thankfully donned a loose shirt and trousers. When he sees that he has Jason’s attention, he beckons him forward, pointing toward a towel and the pile of his clothes. Jason is wary of getting out of the pool, but staying in isn’t really an option either. He limps up the steps at the edge of the pool, dries off and dons the clothes, trying to ignore the way Ra’s hasn’t taken his eyes off him the whole time. Once he’s done, Ra’s turns to walk back into the compound, and Jason fights the urge to run as he follows.
They go inside, up winding stone steps, down long halls and through many doors and many empty rooms. It's both familiar and foreign—Jason knows he's walked these corridors numerous times, following behind an entirely different figure who is slighter with long dark hair. He remembers Talia guiding him in and out of rooms, images of quiet alcoves and wide expansive windows.
Ra's is ahead of him now though, and eventually Jason follows him into what looks like a small training room. He immediately freezes as another memory hits him—that of being tied to the racks as someone touched him. He remembers someone standing over him, pressing him into the floor.
He remembers now, who that was. It was Ra's.
Jason has no time to panic however. He has to focus, because Ra's has removed his shirt and he's holding something in his hands. They look like they're made of wood, like a set of carved sticks. He immediately flicks one of them at Jason, and without thinking, Jason catches it. He looks down at his hand to find it's a wooden training dagger.
"Hmm," Ra's hums in approval, "we shall see just how much you remember."
Ra's pounces, jabbing the other wooden dagger he wields in his hand straight at Jason's neck. Jason struggles to dodge. He trips over his injured ankle, but he recovers just in time to roll to the side. Ra's is immediately upon him again and Jason instinctively swings the wooden dagger upward as Ra's bears down on him.
Ra's catches his wrist just before the dagger connects, and he's looking down at Jason with a strange narrowed gaze. He's not smiling, but he seems pleased at something.
Jason freezes as Ra's looks down at where the point of the wooden dagger is pressed to his bare chest.
"You aimed a non-lethal strike," Ra's comments. "You unconsciously follow the tenets of your former master." Still gripping Jason's wrist, Ra's moves the point of the dagger a few inches over so that it is now pointed directly over his heart. "He trained you to hold back. He wasted you. Such talent. Such potential."
It doesn't feel right, what Ra's says. Is he holding back? Perhaps, because Ra's still controls what will happen to Talia and her child, but the implication that Jason had been owned by some other master just feels wrong. It can't be right, can it? But then why is Jason here? Where is that former master now?
Ra's seems to note his confusion, and drops his hold on Jason's wrist to cup his face, stroking his thumb along the corner of Jason's mouth. "Fear not boy, for I will fix you. I will make you perfect."
They recommence, with Ra's initiating an attack and Jason responding. Ra's pauses frequently to reposition Jason's strikes, and despite the soreness of his muscles and the sharp ache of his twisted ankle, Jason finds his body settles into the cadence of training and fighting easily. It would have almost felt comforting, if not for the man instructing him. For now, Ra's seems to have suspended his interest in forcing himself on Jason.
Instead he ups the training game. Jason keeps the training daggers, but Ra's switches from the wooden daggers to knives, then training blades, then a sword with each session. Each time he attacks more aggressively, forcing Jason to fight back harder. He can't keep up. He's tiring quickly after everything that's happened, and as Ra's swipes and jabs and pushes forward, it's all Jason can do to flip out of the way. He bites back a yelp as he lands wrong on his twisted ankle, and collapses onto the floor.
Ra's is immediately upon him, pinning him face down and wrenching his arm to press against his back. Jason stills, though he's panting from exertion and panic as Ra's nudges a knee between his thighs.
"You've done well," Ra's leans down and purrs into his ear. "Perhaps you have earned a reward."
Jason doesn't like the way that sounds. He can't help the way his breath hitches as he tries to brace himself for what comes next, so he's surprised when instead of any further touching, Ra's simply lets him up. Jason quickly pushes himself back onto his feet, pain shooting up from his ankle, but he manages to hold himself upright.
Ra's curls up the corner of his mouth into that sinister grin and watches. After a moment he turns toward the door. "Come," he says.
Jason limps after him, feeling weary and sore. He wants to be doing anything but following Ra's to some unknown place, where the only sure thing is that he will be once again forcefully violated. Jason goes anyway, reminding himself that he has agreed to this in order to protect the only person who has tried to care for him.
Eventually, he finds himself on a veranda, where there is a small round table set low to the ground. It's covered in an array of small food plates, and Jason's mouth waters. Suddenly he feels ravenous. He doesn't remember eating. At all. Jason restrains himself even as his stomach growls, wondering what price will Ra's demand in exchange for the food.
Ra's seats himself amidst an assortment of cushions by the table, and motions for Jason to sit beside him. He does, kneeling on his haunches, tucking his fists nervously in his lap.
"Eat," Ra's says calmly. He lounges back into the pillows and continues to watch.
There’s various dishes of cold meats, garnishes, flatbreads, and fruit. Jason tentatively reaches for the bread, scraping it along some kind of pale dip before stuffing it in his mouth. It hurts to swallow, but he’s hungry, and the food is good, and once he’s begun eating he reaches for more, unable to quell the thought that he’s unsure of when he’s going to be able to eat again. He almost forgets that Ra’s is there, until the moment he reaches for a third serving of bread, and he feels the other man scoot closer.
A hand encircles his waist, and Jason immediately goes stiff. He puts down the bread, mouth suddenly going dry.
“Here,” Ra’s leans over his shoulder to grab something from the table. He’s wrapped behind Jason now, pressing up against him with his legs on either side. Ra's isn't wearing a shirt, and Jason can feel the heat of his body envelop him, blocking him in. Ra's brings a slice of red melon to Jason’s lips. “Eat,” he says.
Jason tries not to react. He resists the urge to throw the man off his back. He tries not to cringe at the hand splayed across his abs. He tries not to recoil as the hand reaches under his tunic to rub slow circles against his bare skin, but he is in no better position to find escape than he was before, not without leaving Talia to be punished, and so he opens his mouth. He lets Ra's push the sweet flesh of the fruit against his tongue.
He tries to eat, but the angle is awkward with Ra's holding the melon from behind him. It's messy, and juice dribbles down his chin as he takes a bite. He chews and swallows, and then Ra's is pressing the melon to his lips again. Jason repeats the process, more juice drips down his chin and to his chest.
Ra's notices. He's been watching closely, leaning in over Jason's shoulder, his face mere inches away. Ra's presses the melon to Jason's lips yet again, but this time Ra's turns Jason so he's twisted back to face him. He bends down to lick at the sticky fruit juice along Jason's chin, then down his neck. It turns into a nip at his skin, then a kiss, alternating as Ra's works his way to Jason's collar, pushing open the neckline of his tunic.
Jason can't help it. His heart starts racing and he feels like he can't breathe. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want this at all. He's not sure he can let Ra's violate him again. The mere thought of it makes him sick. He wants anything but this, but he can't say no.
He lets Ra's pull the tunic over his head, and then Ra's is pushing the sweet fruit into his mouth again. More sticky juice runs from the corners of his mouth. He swallows slowly, the pain of his throat a reminder of what Ra's had done to him earlier.
Ra's draws him closer, turning him around so that they're face to face, so that he is straddling Ra's lap. Ra's grabs his hair and pulls him forward to kiss his mouth.
"Such a sweet thing," Ra's breathes against his lips. "Such a delight. I will have you again now, my pretty thing."
Jason breaks into a sob, but Ra's ignores him. He's too occupied with licking at the stickiness that has run down Jason's chest. He's tonguing his nipples, and then biting down hard, adding to the collection of welts that he has already put on Jason's skin. He works his hand under the band of Jason's pants to fondle him, and Jason hates the way his body responds. He hates the way his body betrays him.
Ra's lifts Jason up momentarily in order to push the waistband downward, removing his pants so Jason is fully exposed. Ra's strips down as well before returning his hands to grope Jason's cock, and Jason feels the burn of shame at how quickly Ra's is able to stroke him fully erect. A whine escapes his lips as Ra's squeezes his tip, and all Jason wants to do is fold into himself and pretend this isn't happening again. He's too conscious of the sensations coursing through his body to escape however. He's far too aware of Ra's grabbing his buttocks to pull him closer so that their groins are touching. Jason can feel Ra's' arousal sliding against his own. He instinctively backs away, but Ra's holds him firmly in place.
He's in an awkward position between Ra's' legs, and without any other placehold, Jason has little choice but to balance his hands against Ra's' shoulders. He tries to put as much distance as possible between them, but there's only so much he can do without actively fighting. The other man's skin is slightly tacky from sweat. He feels solid under Jason's hands and his physique is strong and powerful. The muscles of his arms are supple, the cut of his pecs and abdomen are hard and sculpted, and Jason remembers how weak and powerless he felt beneath him. It's no better even perched over Ra's as he is.
Then Ra's is grabbing one of Jason's hands, pouring some slick liquid into his palm and pressing it against Ra's erection. "Prepare me." His voice is husky, but it's clearly a command.
Jason obeys. He tries to keep his hand steady as he wraps his fingers around the girth of Ra's cock. He tries not to think of taking the thing inside him. He tries not to think about how it had already been shoved down his throat. He tries to make it quick, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he can get the other man off before he demands more from him.
No such luck. Ra's puts his hand over Jason's, guiding the rhythm, using his other hand to pump Jason’s flagging erection back to life. Once he’s fully hard again, Ra’s squeezes his fingers tightly around the base of his cock, so much that it's almost painful. With his other hand he positions himself at Jason’s entrance, rubbing the leaking tip back and forth.
“Pleasure me.” Ra’s thrusts up slightly, just enough to nudge at his hole. It's not enough for him to penetrate Jason. Instead, it seems Ra’s wants Jason to bear down—he wants Jason to actively participate in his own violation by fucking himself on Ra’s’ cock.
Jason finds himself shaking his head. He can’t. He doesn’t think he can do this. “Nn- no,” he manages to stutter. “Please…,” he doesn’t continue, because he’s not sure what he’s going to ask for, other than for this to stop.
“Do it,” Ra’s sneers back at him. “Do it or the alternative will be much more painful.”
“I…,” Jason tries to find the words, but his voice fails him. He wants to say he’s not prepared and that he’s already torn from their previous encounter, but he knows those words will fall on deaf ears.
“Do it,” Ra’s repeats. “Pleasure me, or I will simply take you.”
Jason believes him. He’s already experienced what that means first hand, so he takes a shuddering breath and tries to work through his panic. He keeps one hand braced on Ra’s’ shoulder, takes a hold of the other man’s erection, and then forces himself to slowly inch down.
Ra’s’s cock is already slicked, thankfully, but it still feels too big and too much for Jason to take in. He tries to relax himself, but he can’t. He takes a deep breath and lowers himself down, and Ra’s’ cockhead pushes past the first ring of muscle.
It hurts. He can feel himself tearing open again, like the first night. The stretch of his entrance burns, and he involuntarily clenches. Jason sobs and blinks tears out of his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. Ra’s however, has become impatient. He suddenly has both hands on Jason’s hips, and he’s forcing Jason down all the way, thrusting up at the same time so that Ra’s is buried to the root in one fell swoop.
Jason cries out in pain. The first time Ra's had taken him like this, he had the advantage of being drugged enough it had dulled his senses. This time he's all too aware of how much Ra's fills him and how much his body struggles to accommodate the invasion. He digs his nails into Ra’s shoulders and curls into himself in an attempt to relieve the pain.
"No. Stop… it hurts.” The words do come now. It's all he can think—that he wants this to stop. That it hurts too much. Those words keep running and running and running through his mind, but Ra’s is already thrusting up into him. He’s already gripping Jason’s cock again, stroking and squeezing in rhythm so that his body is once more responding to the stimulation. He’s moving Jason to bounce over his lap, and Jason hates it. He hates that he’s not fighting it, that’s he’s following Ra’s’ lead and moving himself up and down, taking Ra’s into himself, over and over and over.
Ra's groans and grunts and growls in pleasure beneath him. Eventually the pain begins to subside, and Jason feels a heated arousal take over. He hates that too, that his body can interpret this as pleasure—his cock twinges and twitches of its own accord each time Ra's' hardness nudges that something inside him. A wave of sensation rolls through him each time he fucks himself down, and he can't handle it. He sobs, even as he throws his arms over Ra's' shoulders, his face nuzzled into the crook of Ra's' neck, because it's the only thing he can do to keep from having to look into Ra's' eyes.
Eventually he feels the buildup of tension in his belly and the tightening at the root of his groin. His thighs are trembling from exertion, but also from his approaching release. As much as he wants this to be over, Jason doesn't want to give in to that, because it means that some part of him wants this. He tries to convince himself that isn’t true, even though Ra's has already extracted that truth from him multiple times before.
As if reading his mind, Ra's disentangles Jason's arms from his shoulders, pushing him back and forcing Jason to meet his eyes. Then he leans backward on his elbows, bracing his legs so he can thrust up into Jason more easily.
"Touch yourself." Ra's' voice is rough. His hips continue to pump a brutal rhythm, and his eyes are heady with arousal. "Let me see you sully yourself for me."
It's exactly what Jason wished to avoid, but he follows Ra's' order. He reaches down to stroke himself, his thighs spread over Ra's as he continues to bounce himself up and down. Ra's meets him with each jarring movement. Jason is close. He jacks his hand over his cock a few times, and then Ra’s is leaning forward and pulling him down, licking his chest and sucking at his nipples.
Jason loses it. He feels something inside him constrict. Almost like something is strangling and squeezing within. It's too much. Jason can't hold himself back anymore. He's gasping through hitched breaths and crying, at the same time he spills and spurts himself until he is empty.
"Yes, my pretty thing," Ra's croons, stroking up and down Jason's sides. "My dirty, pretty thing."
Jason collapses onto Ra's, unable to hold himself up. He feels weak and helpless, his body limp as Ra's flips him over and presses his back onto the floor. Ra's pushes Jason's thighs over his shoulders and resumes fucking him, hard and fast now, each thrust accented with the slap of skin against skin, the wet squelch of his cock plunging in and out of Jason's abused hole.
He cries. He can’t stop himself, and he whimpers and snivels with each grinding motion, until with a guttural roar, Ra's slams himself into Jason a final time. Ra's shudders through his climax, his cock buried deep with his balls pressed flush against Jason's backside, and Jason can feel every one of Ra's tremors reverberate through him.
Jason blinks through his tears as Ra's rides through the final spasms, and he looks up to see Ra's is smiling. The corners of his mouth are upturned in euphoria, his mouth hanging open as he pants, teeth glinting bright and white.
"Good. My pretty thing," Ra's' velvety lilt drifts over Jason. "Such a dirty, pretty thing. You have done so well."
Afterwards, Ra's indulges in the spread of food still sitting on the table. Jason lies motionless beside him, trying to sink into himself as blood and come trickles down his thigh, cooling on his skin and forming a small pool of wetness on the floor.
Ra's watches him bathe, and then he's given a new set of clothes—a uniform ensemble with a dark red tunic. It has a hood and yellow trim. Jason gets dressed slowly, fatigue and various aches and pains hamper his movements. Ra's waits for him, and he is surprisingly patient, but there is a glint of something sinister in his eye.
He leads Jason back into the winding corridors of the compound, up several floors where Jason is pretty sure he's never been before. Ra's continues toward the end of a long hall, and as they approach Jason can hear something—a high pitched wailing, small and shrill. It's a baby, Talia's child, Damian.
The sound of the baby crying grows louder and louder until Ra's stops outside a door. He opens it, and motions for Jason to step in.
Sure enough, inside the room is a small cot, where the baby is screaming and crying. Jason hesitates, unsure of what to do, but then he steps forward and picks up the squalling baby, holding him against his chest.
The baby continues to cry, and Jason looks back at Ra's, but he offers no help. He merely watches. Jason turns back to look around the room and spies a bottle by the cot. He grabs it and brings it to the baby's mouth, and immediately the child begins to feed. The room quiets, save for the soft sounds of the baby sucking on the bottle.
"Stay here," Ra's voice suddenly cuts through. "You've demonstrated your willingness to abide by my terms. I will bring my daughter once I am assured of her agreement."
Ra's leaves the room, and Jason has nothing to do but wait. The baby has finished the bottle, and as the child drifts off to sleep he thinks about how delicate and small the child is. He sniffles and hiccups in his sleep, still afflicted from his bout of crying, and Jason wonders how long the baby was left alone. He wonders if he can take them both from here somehow and escape into the night. He wonders where Talia is, and he thinks about how much the child needs his mother, and he wonders if his committing to serve Ra's will truly keep Talia and her child together and safe.
He has no answers, and in the end, Jason sits down and simply continues to cradle the child to his chest. After what feels like hours, the door opens, and a familiar silhouette enters the room. It's Talia, and she dashes forward to encircle both himself and the baby in her arms.
"Are you alright?" she says as she pulls away. A flood of relief washes through him, now that he sees she's unharmed. He wants to tell her so, and that he's fine, but the words keep failing him, so he simply nods. He hands her the baby, and fortunately, the child doesn't wake as she takes ahold of him. She kisses Damian, and clutches him tightly to her chest.
Talia reaches for Jason again, and Jason's not sure why, but this time he flinches away. Talia frowns at that, and tries once more. Jason forces himself to stay still, and he lets her take his hand.
"I have not, and will not abandon you, Jason." She says it with conviction, and he wants to believe her. He really does, but he looks at the baby snuggled in her arms, at the way she holds him protectively, as if she never wants to let him go again, and Jason thinks that that is more important. That a mother should be allowed to be with her son, that they should never be separated from each other again, and that Jason will do everything he can to make sure of it.
Jason wonders briefly if he ever had a mother who loved him too, but whatever memories he had of her are gone.
There's movement at the door, and Jason turns to see Ra's standing there once more, watching. "Come, boy," he says, and Jason moves to follow.
"Jason!" Talia calls after him, and Jason hates how desperate she sounds. He looks back at her, and her face is contorted in anguish, but there's nothing she can do without endangering her son.
There's nothing more Jason can do either, but to follow Ra's from the room. Ra's closes the door behind them, locking Talia within. Then he leads them up another flight of stairs to a familiar corridor, until they're at the entrance to Ra's private rooms.
Jason remembers, because this is where it all started. Ra's opens the door and enters, and Jason follows and steps through the threshold, closing the door behind him.
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