Chapter Text
Jason knows who Slade Wilson is and that he should stay away from him.
He knows the man is a vicious competitor of his father’s with a business ethic firmly in the dark gray to black side of the spectrum.
He also knows that his older brother drank too much one night, while he was in college, and fell for Wilson’s sweet talk, whatever that could possibly sound like, and that the older man still, years later, finds ways suggestively drop Dick’s name into conversations with their father.
So when he sees the man’s signature white hair and eye patch approaching his position at the bar, Jason makes a real attempt to avoid him. Only a small crowd of people who chose that precise moment to head for the patio, blocks his escape.
“Trying to hide, kid?”
Jason sighs and turns back to face the old man. “Think that’s what they tell you to do when a predator is on the prowl.”
Slade’s lip quirks up on one side and his icy gray eye twinkles. “So, does that make you the prey?”
Heat creeps down his ears. “Maybe not me specifically. But there’s not many reasons for a man like you to be at a campus bar full of students, what? a third your age? Do you expect me to believe you’re not hunting, Mr. Wilson?”
The lopsided smirk grows into a full grin and the older man shifts his giant body closer, angling so that Jason takes a small step back into the bar. It’s not that he’s never noticed Wilson’s sculpted muscles and large frame before, he has. He won’t pretend that he hasn’t occasionally had Slade on the mind during those quiet personal moments in the dark. Not to himself, anyway. But this close, he feels small, which is not a sensation he’s very familiar with, and all he can smell is the smoked, woody, clean scent of the larger man’s cologne. It’s… a little distracting.
“Not really,” Wilson rumbles down at him, voice pitched low with just a hint of gravel. “I am here for a business meeting,” he waves a hand to a table in the corner with a couple shady looking men sitting around it, one of whom Jason recognizes as Roman Sionis, another of his father’s competition and a man who has creeped him out since he was a kid. They seem to be interviewing a younger man, looking over his resume. “But I’m an accomplished multitasker,” Slade finishes, eye traveling the length of Jason’s body.
“Hard pass,” he gulps, unconvincingly apparently, because Wilson gets even closer, knee nudging Jason’s thigh. The hand on the bar side, hidden from the rest of the room by the counter and their bodies, rests gently on his hip and stays as he tries to step away again. This time he runs into the barstool behind him and ends up half sitting on it as Wilson makes himself comfortable between his legs.
He should leave. He should insist, loudly, that the old man leave him alone, shove him away, and go back to his apartment. But he’s not used to this kind of attention. Definitely not used to such forward behavior.
Instead, he grips Slade’s wrist as hard as he can. Slade may be much bigger and stronger than him, but he’s no delicate little flower.
White brows raise above the unwavering gaze and irritating smirk.
“I’m not my brother,” he growls, pushing the hand away. He knows that’s not really fair. Dick… hadn’t regretted anything or been at all remorseful, but it’d just been the one time and he had admitted that he probably wouldn’t have made the same choice a second time. Especially with how disappointed their father had been.
“Oh, I’m aware,” Slade says quietly, just for the two of them, “You may look like the rest of your family, but Bruce and Dick? Neither would ever call me ‘Mr. Wilson’. And Dick’s too worried about making your father proud. That’s not failing you share. Is it, lit major?”
Jason scowls. How does this asshole know about that? He’s argued plenty with his dad about not wanting to be part of Wayne Enterprises. He wants to be a professor and write. Jason doesn’t see why it’s such a big deal when Dick, Tim, and Damian are all interested.
“Mr. Wilson?” He says softly, looking up at the mogul through his lashes.
“Yes?”
Jason thinks the way the older man leans in closer a fraction of an inch is unconscious. So he smiles sweetly and tilts his head back a little.
“Kindly fuck off,” he snaps before finally shoving Wilson away and slipping around him.
He ignores the way the other man’s grin gets bigger and he definitely pretends like he doesn’t hear him call out “See you around, kid,” as he leaves the bar.
Slade makes sure he bumps into Jason more frequently over the next several weeks. Enough so that the kid’s initial reaction to seeing him goes from irritated to resigned to indifferent. Which is great progress.
Now that his presence has shifted from negative to emotionally neutral, he can start working up to evoking positive feelings.
He’s not really sure why he cares. Except that the kid was right, he enjoys the hunt. Even if he rarely has the patience for it. He often pulls the trigger too early. That’s what happened with the older brother. Difference is, he at least had that one in his sights. Dick had flirted back, made his interest obvious and pursued it aggressively. This one is more reserved. More in his own head. He’ll have to be drawn out. Where Dick was a fellow hunter, Jason is, as he’d said, prey.
Shy, mouthy prey that Slade can’t get off his mind.
Maybe it’s the rejection. The fact that the kid says no even though Slade can see the attraction is mutual. Slade doesn’t remember the last time someone who was attracted to him denied him.
Actually, he does. Guess Jason has at least one thing in common with his father, aside from the physical similarities.
“Mr. Wilson,” the kid sighs in feigned exasperation, giving a slight smile over his champagne flute, as Slade approaches, “What a surprise to see you.”
Slade snorts at the sarcasm, joining the younger man at the standing table in the back corner of the ballroom, as far away from the pomp of the gala as he can get. Slade’s noticed that parties like this deplete Jason’s energy faster than that of the rest of his family’s and the kid often slips away to find a quiet place to recharge.
“Done for the evening already, beautiful?” On his third ‘accidental’ run in with Jason, Slade had told him he was adorable for some reason and had immediately made a mental note to compliment his good looks at every opportunity, just to see that brilliant shade of pink.
Jason isn’t immune to the flattery yet. And Slade isn’t immune to the blushing.
“I was thinking about sneaking out for a smoke. Just for a few minutes. These things really take it out of me, you know?”
He does.
“Mhmm,” he hums, crowding Jason’s space a little more. He’s been encouraged lately when the kid doesn’t immediately try to step away to reestablish his personal bubble. “Want some company?”
A smile tugs his lips up when he hears Jason swallow hard.
“Not this time,” Jason replies, shooting his own mean little smirk up at Slade. “I won’t be long. We are the hosts, after all.”
Slade watches him go over the top of his tumbler, impeccably tailored suit clinging in all the right places. How did all these kids end up with such perfect asses he just wants to sink his teeth into and thighs he wants wrapped around his head?
He glances over to where Bruce is laughing brightly with a small gaggle of women and thinks “Right. Genetics” just before he notices Roman slinking out the ballroom door. Probably to try to snoop through Wayne’s house.
But then the minutes tick away and Jason doesn’t return for longer than Slade would have expected it to take. Long enough to go through several cigarettes and the kid hadn’t seemed that on edge.
He’s halfway across the room, a foreign sick feeling roiling in his gut, when a familiar form steps in his path.
“Richard,” Slade sighs, “I was just on my way out. What can I do for you?”
Dick eyes him up and down, but not in the fun way. “Saw you talking to Jason.”
“And?”
“And what do you want with my little brother, Slade?”
Slade rolls his eyes. “This is your gala. You’re the hosts. He’s the only one who doesn’t interrogate me or look down his nose when I speak. So he’s the one to whom I addressed the polite, society niceties.”
Dick considers him for a long moment.
“This is a lovely party, Dick. But I have business to attend to, so if you don’t mind…?” Slade motions in the direction of the exit.
Finally, Dick steps aside. “Stay away from Jason, Slade.”
Slade just snorts and takes the opportunity to leave.
When he’s in the hall, he turns left for the courtyard instead of right for the car.
It’s pretty much what he was expecting when he reaches the courtyard and follows the muffled sounds of a struggle into the hedge maze. Suddenly a lot of things over the years start adding up. Roman’s lurking in corners, eyes lingering just a little too long, little ‘jokes’ about ‘cock teases’ and ‘putting uppity sluts in their place’.
Except that Jason seems to be holding his own. His shirt is ripped but Roman is the one with a black eye, bloody lip, and seems to have a slight limp.
Until Roman gets in a lucky grab and Jason’s face hits a wooden bench just a little too hard, stunning him.
Sionis doesn’t waste the opportunity, quickly getting Jason to the ground on his belly and sitting on his legs.
Slade hauls him off the kid by his collar as easily as he would a naughty puppy, and throws him against the nearest hedges.
“What the fuck, Wilson!” Roman snarls.
He hears Jason getting to his feet behind him so he turns and offers the kid his hand. The younger man stares at it for moment and blinks a few times before swallowing and accepting the assistance.
“What do you think you’re doing Roman?” Slade asks, voice calm as he checks over Jason’s face, looks closely at the cut on his head. He’ll have to dress it but it’s a relatively minor injury.
“You got the older one, I was just—“
“I didn’t take anything that wasn’t given, you fool.”
“This one’s been begging me for it for years, you self-righteous bastard.”
Jason is already shaking his head from where he’s leaning his weight against Slade’s side. “What the fuck are you—“
Slade hushes him with a hand at his back, rubbing between his shoulders.
“Roman. I’m one of the few people who will still do business with you. If you value your company and your lifestyle, I suggest you forget whatever you think anyone has been begging you for. I can assure you, it’s in your head. If you don’t, I’m sure Wayne would be very interested in what’s just happened here, at his home, to his son, and he shouldn’t have any difficulty burying you even without my help.”
The other man glares at them, hate clear in his expression, before straightening his suit and all but fleeing.
“Sick fuck,” Jason mutters once Roman’s gone.
“Come on,” Slade responds, sliding his arm around the kid’s waist. He’s a little shaky. “Let’s get you patched up.”
A few minutes later they’re in the kitchen of Wayne Manor while a very concerned British butler fusses over Jason’s wound while the boy insists that he just had too much to drink and tripped in the courtyard while trying to sneak a smoke.
“We’ll circle back to the smoking. Again,” the butler, Alfred, says sternly, making Jason smile sheepishly, “But do you expect me to believe that a fall is the reason you’re missing three buttons from your shirt and the knuckles of your right hand are swollen and bruised?”
“Uh… yeah…?”
Alfred’s eyes flicker up to Slade before resting back on the younger man, full of worry and love.
“Seeing as Mr. Wilson seems to be undamaged, I’ll assume he wasn’t the one on the other end of your fist?”
“Al, honestly, I’m fine.”
“That may be, young man. But you are still lying to me about what happened. Your father will be even less convinced.”
“Let’s keep this just between us. No reason to get him worried about nothing.”
Alfred looks back up at Slade, allows his gaze to linger, then pointedly dart between him and Jason.
“It seems to me that there is quite a bit to worry about.”
Jason rolls his eyes as the butler finishes up, fixing a large band-aide over the cut on the kid’s head.
“You may attempt to convince me more thoroughly on the drive home. No doubt you are no longer in the partying mood.”
“No doubt,” Jason mutters, “But you’re not taking me home, Al. You’d have to drive all the way to the city and all the way back. I said I’m fine and I meant it.”
“You may have a concussion, Master Jason. You are not driving—“
“I’ll take him,” Slade offers. When Jason looks at him with surprise and Alfred with suspicion, he shrugs, “I’m heading back anyway.”
After another five minutes of arguing and reassurance, Jason manages to convince the butler to allow Slade to drive him home.
They’re halfway back to the city, Slade nudging him awake every time he starts to nod off, when Jason turns toward him, lids creeping lower as he starts to drift off again.
“Thank you,” he mutters, before Slade has to poke him in the ribs.
“Any time, kid.”
When he stops in front of Jason’s building the kid gives him a funny look out of the corner of his eye and rubs his neck. Then it’s Slade’s turn to be surprised when Jason invites him up.
Slade’s not the type to ask too many questions when he gets what he wants. So his moment of hesitation before he nods and turns off the car isn’t very like him.
Neither is the feeling of mild unease as they ride the elevator up.
But it isn’t until he’s sitting at the kid’s counter, drink in hand, as Jason slips between his spread legs, so pretty with the way he’s blushing fiercely, that Slade grips his hips with one hand and gently take his chin with the other.
“You sure about this, kid?” He asks even though he doesn’t really want to. “Maybe tonight isn’t the best time.”
Jason licks his lips, bright blue eyes fixing on Slade’s, before he smirks mischievously. “I might have a concussion,” he mumbles, moving so that his lips brush Slade’s, “I need you to make sure I don’t fall asleep.”
That’s all the invitation Slade needs. He firms his grip and pulls the kid against him, meeting his lips and licking into his mouth. He holds Jason tightly, keeping his movements slow and tender.
He drops his hands, gives the kid’s ass a squeeze before lifting him up and sitting him on the counter. Then he drags his fingers down those thick thighs, takes one of Jason’s legs in hand and watches his face as he unties the shoe, slides it off, peels the sock off, and repeats the action on the other foot before gently, separating the remaining buttons of the shirt.
Slade lets his fingertips dance over well-defined abs on their way to the waistband of the dress slacks. Suddenly, Jason takes a hold of his hands and waits until Slade looks back up into his eyes.
“Please don’t… don’t use this against my dad…” he pleads, blushing again and dropping his gaze.
Slade tilts his chin up so that he can see those sweet, blue eyes. “I won’t say a word.”
With that, he glues their lips back together until he has Jason’s slacks off. Then he gently guides him down onto his back, smiling at the soft hiss as the coolness of the marble meets warm skin. Takes the kid’s legs and presses them forward until the knees are bent and up by Jason’s chest, tells him to hold onto them.
The blush is creeping down Jason’s whole body; gets brighter when he drags a thumb over the winking, exposed hole. But it’s the uninhibited moan the younger man lets loose when Slade licks a fat stripe over it that he wants more of.
He soon decides he could eat this kid out forever if it meant hearing his breathy gasps every time he stiffens his tongue and fucks into him, his pleased whines when Slade flattens it, making it go wide inside him, his confused whimpers when he nibbles on the rim.
It’s not long before he loses track of time. All he knows is he doesn’t stop until Jason is a writhing, gasping mess above him, sweat shimmering over his skin, fingers of one hand buried in his own hair while the other is wrapped around his cock, pumping unevenly.
Even then, Slade only notices all that when Jason speaks.
“Please,” the kid says breathlessly, “Mr. Wilson, please… more.”
His cock leaps and before he’s even registering what his hand is doing he’s reaching for his wallet and the condom and packet of lube contained within.
Slade gets his fingers slicked in seconds and leans forward to hum in Jason’s ear while a single wet digit circles the eager opening.
“Sir,” he mutters hotly against the kid’s ear.
“Wh-What?”
“‘Mr. Wilson’ is alright. But if you’re going to be so amenable, I’d prefer ‘sir’.”
His eyes track the bob of the younger man’s adam’s apple as he swallows hard before moving up to brilliant blue under thick lashes.
“Please… sir,” Jason whispers.
Slade kisses him in reward and drinks down the gasp as he slips a single finger in easily.
Things move faster from there. He adds a second and third when the pressure eases, making sure to rub against the prostate on every inward motion, until finally, with Jason practically in tears, Slade feels comfortable enough to free himself and roll on the condom.
Sinking into the tight, velvet heat, with the kid laid out in front of him like an offering, hands holding onto his forearms for dear life, Slade would like nothing better than to mark Jason up, outside and in, make sure everyone knows that this one is his.
The thought of Roman’s hands on Jason earlier draws out a possessive growl and his next thrusts are harder, deeper. When the kid’s hips buck up and he cries out, spilling all over his own abs, Slade keeps that pace, not letting up until he gives a handful of final, erratic thrusts and stills with his own hips pressed against Jason’s ass.
They stay like that for a moment. Both sweating and panting, Slade’s cock comfortably sheathed inside the warm, snug passage. When he does finally pull out, Jason gives a little whine of protest that makes Slade chuckle.
He ties off the condom and drops it in Jason’s trash before ripping off a few paper towels and wetting them.
With the younger man watching him, upside down from where he’s still laid out on the counter, Slade reaches over his head and wipes up the come drying on the boy’s belly. Then he moves back around and wipes the lube up, from where his dirty hand had gripped Jason’s hip, from around his hole, and, indulging a little, he dips his fingers back in an inch under the pretense of cleaning up.
Jason takes Slade’s hand when he offers it and he pulls him upright on the counter. Cups a hand to a reddened cheek, thumbing the kid’s lower lip.
“That… wasn’t what I expected,” Jason says, voice a little raspy and quiet.
“Mmm. Me either.”
Slade forces his hand away and straightens. He needs to leave. Quickly.
“I had a good time, kid.”
Jason blinks at the sudden change in atmosphere. His face gets redder as he asks, “Any… any chance you-you might want to, uh… do it again?”
Damnit.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
The kid’s face falls. “Oh… right. ‘Course.”
“I’ll see you around, Jason.”
That’s the last thing he says. Striding purposefully to the door, Slade leaves Jason sitting there, naked, on his kitchen counter.
The clank of dishes being set in front of him jolts Jason out of the book he was reading and back into the real world to see a steaming cup of plain black coffee. His preference. But he didn’t order it.
Then he notices the man slipping into the seat across from him and frowns. It’s been three weeks since Slade fucked him and bailed as quickly as possible. Jason’s feelings on the matter are conflicted. The way it happened, he’s pretty sure it wasn’t anything he did so much as it was Slade’s issues. He’s not hoping to never see the man again. But he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to do so either.
He just stares at the older man for long moment before closing his book and shifting in his seat to face him.
“Mr. Wilson,” he starts, noting the way Slade tries to keep the smirk from tugging up one corner of his mouth. Jason raises the mug to his lips and asks, “How can I help you?”
“I’ve reconsidered your proposition,” Wilson answers without hesitation, short and to the point.
That was definitely not what Jason was expecting. He chokes on the hot coffee.
“What?” He manages to gasp.
“I’ve thought about it a great deal and I believe we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
Jason just blinks at him. Why would Wilson think it was still an option after the way he left?
Slade leans across the table, letting his grin out. “I’d like regular, exclusive access.”
Jason’s brain shorts out. “What? Why?”
“I’d have thought that was obvious. I want to fuck you again.”
An older woman walking past stumbles and shoots them scowl but Jason can’t spare the brain power to care.
“I thought that wasn’t a good idea,” Jason finally snips when he finds his tongue.
Wilson shrugs. “I have my reasons for believing that and some of them are certainly still relevant. But as I said, upon reflection, I find I’ve come to a new conclusion.”
“What makes you think I’m still interested?”
“If you’re not, you say no, I say ok, and we go our separate ways. I’ve asked. The worst that can happen is you refuse. It’s not a life or death situation.”
Jason doesn’t really need the long moments he takes to mull it over. He already knows he is still interested. But he doesn’t want to seem too eager or easy.
“‘Exclusive’?” He asks, latching on the the weirdest part.
The older man’s eyes go dark. “Yes. I don’t like other people touching my things.”
“‘Things’?” Jason repeats indignantly, “People aren’t things. And I’m not your property.”
Slade’s smile turns sharp and predatory as he leans further across the table.
“Not yet.”
Warmth pools in Jason’s belly and he shudders. There’s no way Wilson missed it.
“What about you?” He asks, shoving all that aside, “Do you plan on being exclusive?”
“If you want. If it’s a condition of your agreement, it’s an easy concession.”
“Do you… even realize what you’re asking for?” Jason can’t help but question. The way Slade is phrasing everything, it sounds all business but what he’s asking for is, frankly not something Jason would have ever expected.
“This is a mutually beneficial arrangement. Nothing more.”
“Uh, huh. That’s pretty much what a relationship is…”
“Call it whatever you want, I don’t particularly care. This is about sex.”
“Exclusive sex. Which you’ll get how? Call me up whenever you’re feeling horny?”
“And if you were willing I would likely ask for you to accompany me to certain functions, though none with anyone who might know you. I assume you still wish to keep your family in the dark.”
Jason nods emphatically. Then smiles. “What if I’m feeling horny?”
“All points are reciprocal. If I can call you, you can call me. If you attend functions with me, I will attend functions with you, etc.”
Jason rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Let me think about it,” he says as he rises, knowing full well he’s going to agree.
“Of course. Take your time. I’ll check back with you tomorrow.”
“How ‘bout I call you when I’ve made a decision.”
Without waiting for an answer Jason leaves Slade, sitting there alone at the café, as the server sets Jason’s bill on the table in front of the old man.
He’ll call him in a few days.