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Dick floated slowly and reluctantly back to wakefulness. His head was swimming like he’d been on a week long bender.
This is what I get for attending a Queen birthday party, he thought grumpily, raising a hand to his head.
Only his hand didn’t move. It caught, hard, at his side by a thin line of pain around his wrist, his ankle, and the soft, tender skin of his naked inner thigh.
His eyes snapped open. The blackness didn’t change. It was so dark he was suddenly sure there were no windows, like he was in some kind of pantry or basement. It was a far cry from his own south-facing bedroom at Wayne Tower. He could feel cold air flow over his completely naked body, his nipples peaking and goose flesh erupting down his arms and legs. The material under his body was soft, a mattress of some kind, complete with box springs and what sounded like a metal bed frame. Not something temporary, but definitely not his bed.
Fuck. Every lecture Bruce had ever given him, about avoiding creepy fans and stalkers and kidnappers, seemed to echo through his ears at once. What happened last night? The last thing he remembered was…performing his latest single at Roy’s party…going back to the dressing room…
And that was it. There was a terrifying blankness after that.
Dick sucked in a long, measured breath, his heartbeat suddenly pounding in his ears. He tried to take stock of himself. He was laying on his back, exposed to the darkness, his arms straight down his sides and his legs bent at the knees. There were thin stripes of pressure down his limbs that he was pretty sure were zip-ties; they cut into each of his wrists, tying them between his corresponding ankles and thighs, daisy-chained under his back to keep his elbows tight at his sides.
It didn’t feel like enough to keep him there, and yet he could barely squirm, let alone sit up or roll over. He was like a frog on the dissection table, belly up with all of his squishy parts completely exposed.
He was just about to fully give into panic when, with the scrape of metal on metal, the door swung open and light flooded into the room.
“Slade.” Dick felt like he might burst into relieved tears at the sight of his head of security. Slade Wilson was not prone to comfort or niceness, but he’d been one of the first members assigned to Dick’s team when he’d first signed onto a record label. In the many years since, he’d been responsible for keeping fans, paparazzi, stalkers, everyone away from Dick’s life. There was no one he trusted more to get him out of some terrifying fanatic’s home.
Slade didn’t even glance his way. Silently, he flicked up the lightswitch and locked the door. He rifled through a couple of drawers, removing what looked like clothes and a towel, before stealthily making his way to a door Dick hadn’t even noticed on the other side of the room.
Dick’s heart was racing. It actually wasn't that unusual in the middle of a situation, for Slade to move first and explain later. Maybe the stalker was still in the building. Maybe Slade was taking them out right now.
Or…maybe Slade was taking a shower. Dick struggled again in his bonds, a true sense of foreboding taking him over as he listened to the water run. Were there hidden microphones? Was Slade…pretending to be someone else right now?
In just a few minutes, the door opened again. Slade was in a wife beater and a pair of boxers, his hair still damp from the shower, and the minty smell of toothpaste in the air.
“Slade,” Dick said. “What the fuck is going on?”
He’d almost started to wonder if he was invisible or cursed or something, so it came as a slight surprise when Slade answered.
“I've taken care of you for 12 years now,” he said, walking over to the light switch. A second later, the room was plunged back into darkness, and the side of the bed dipped as he climbed in. “12 years, and not a scratch on you, has there been, little bird?”
“Slade, what the fuck are you—”
But he cut off with a squeak as thick arms wrapped around his waist, turning him onto his side, and a heavy body slotted into place behind him. With his wrists attached to his ankles, he was curled into a ball, almost like he was holding onto the limbs holding onto him. He tried desperately to pull away, but the arms were as good as iron bars, unbending and unbreakable.
“Even though you haven’t made my life easy, have you! All that sneaking out when you were 14, the parties and your bratty friends. The crowds you started drawing with your music, and the way you pranced around on stage. I never said anything bad about it, even though my life would have been a million times easier if you stopped shaking your ass around like such a slut. But no, baby, I wanted you to have. Anything. You. Wanted.”
With each word, the arms around Dick shook him, and something hard rutted between Dick’s asscheeks. He squirmed, trying to get away, but when Slade just puffed a contented moan in his ear, Dick went completely, stock still.
“12 years of good work, and your daddy fires me. Did you know that, princess? Today was supposed to be my last day working for you. And all because I took a couple of lousy photos. They never ended up on the internet, did they? After all I’ve done, don’t I deserve a little bit of reward?”
This couldn’t be happening. Slade Wilson, Slade Wilson, Joey’s dad, was hard against him. He’d taken Dick somewhere, god knew where, stripped him naked, and was rubbing his hard cock against Dick’s ass.
There was something wet, stinging in the corner of his eye. And he couldn’t even brush it away, the bastard.
Slade was apparently waiting for an answer, because he shook Dick again. “Don’t I deserve a reward?”
“You don’t deserve shit,” Dick said through gritted teeth. “You need to let me go home, Slade, and I won’t send your ass to jail for the next fifty years!”
He was so angry suddenly. Why didn’t Bruce tell him any of this? Didn’t he deserve to know who was on his staff, who was taking advantage of him? Bruce always said it was a manager’s job to deal with this stuff, and look where that had gotten them.
There was silence, for a long moment. Then Dick was on his back, and there was a loud tearing noise.
“You shouldn’t talk to me like that, princess,” Slade snarled, his voice so fierce Dick flinched. “I don’t fucking work for you anymore.”
And then he pressed a strip of tape down over Dick’s lips. It pulled painfully at his face, but Slade wasn’t done; he wound it around and around Dick’s head, clumsily in the darkness. The first real, overwhelming shard of panic pierced Dick’s disbelief when a layer of tape landed across his nose and suddenly, he realized he couldn’t breathe.
It was like all of the emotions he should have been feeling since waking in this terrible room surged to the surface the moment his air got cut off. There was nothing strategic about how he flailed at that moment, his limbs fighting against their bindings as he rolled and jerked his hips, struggling to get away. He was screaming, something wordless and terrified.
“Alright alright!” Slade yelled, and then there were thick fingers groping at Dick’s face. A moment later the tape was peeled back just enough that he could breathe again, a final layer much more carefully placed as Dick collapsed against the sheets, shuddering as he sucked in as much air as he could.
“There, was that so bad?” There was some shuffling, and then the arms wrapped around Dick’s waist again, pulling his body against a massive chest. “You just have to stop bitching about everything, and we’ll get to enjoy this kind of peaceful quiet all the time.”
Dick was trembling. He needed to be clear headed, needed to get a plan together. Bruce, his team, they’d all be looking for him. This wasn’t going to be forever. He just needed to survive this, just give them a chance to get to him. His chances went way up if he was calm, if he could think. But he couldn’t seem to stop shaking no matter what he did, and it only got worse as a hand stroked up his belly, giving one of his nipples a little pinch.
“Think about how peaceful it’ll be,” Slade said, voice thick with sleep. “You, just being your pretty little self. And me, keeping you safe. I’ll keep everyone away, baby. I promise.”