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Dick stirs with a grimace on his face.
His eyes make a sticky, peeling sound as he drags them open, long eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. The first thing that hits him is the smell — like musty air and mildew. It hits him as he squirms in his bindings — rope tied in a way that begets a kidnapper far beyond the skills of just any Gothamite riffraff — that he’s naked.
Only a few people know how to get his Nightwing suit off without being shocked to hell and back.
Dick flusters, scraping his nails against the cold concrete floor. “Batman?” he asks groggily.
“I’m here, chum,” Bruce says. He’s tied up in his own configuration across the room, hands and legs secured to a thick metal post. Somewhere, a pipe creaks. “Do you—”
“No,” Dick says. “What happened?”
“Deathstroke,” Bruce says the word like a poison that he can’t help but spit out of his mouth.
Shit. Well, it’s not like it’s someone Dick didn’t already guess.
“How?” asks Dick.
“He got the drop on you, so I tailed him. And… he interfered.”
Of course.
Dick cringes, ropes rubbing his arms raw where they’re all trussed up behind him. Dick can’t help but wonder what Slade wants this time.
They’re not… official. Not in any real terms, at least. What they have is much more fickle and flighty than the divinity of being boyfriends or partners. They have quick fucks squirreled away on the dingiest Gotham rooftops. Spats where barbs ricochet like bullets. More quick fucks, in a limosuine with a mirrored roof where Dick can see every contortion of his face in mortifying pleasure. More quick fucks in safehouses they each didn’t bother burning after the fact. Turned into creeping up on the other when they were just in need of a bit of company. Turned into… whatever this is now.
Dick had hoped (foolishly, stupidly) that whatever he had going on with Slade meant there’d be no more abductions or altercations of this caliber.
But Slade is like night and day. Impossible to read. Unpredictable. Gruff at best and steely at worst.
Surely Slade wouldn’t kill either of them?
You’re my tightest fuckhole, kid. Fucking strangling my cock. There you go, just like that—
Now is not the time for Dick to be sending his blood south. He clears his throat and shifts, which Bruce must take as discomfort. And it is. Just not the kind he’d expect.
“We’re going to get out of this, Nightwing. Don’t worry,” Bruce says. His voice is gentle, wrapping Dick’s bare body in warmth.
“I wouldn’t speak so soon,” Slade says as his footsteps sound from overhead. His thick boots clunk against the creaky stairs, dust curtaining the floor in a snowfall of dirt and grime. “Batman. Nightwing,” Slade nods in his direction. And Slade is — fuck him, the bastard — maskless. Dick can see all of that shaggy silver hair, that stubbled goatee he can remember scraping against his thighs with every bob of Slade’s head down his cock. Slade’s single icicle eye seems to bore right through Dick as he says, “Fancy seeing you here.”
Dick snarls, arms bending furiously against his bonds. Batman broods.
“Oh, don’t look so upset,” Slade says with a brisk laugh. “I take very, very good care of my captives.”
“What do you want, Wilson?” Bruce spits.
Slade shrugs as he steps off the staircase, descending into the dark. “I was only interested in your boy at first. But you’ve gone and made this interesting for me, Batman.”
Dick shuffles his knees as if trying to scoot backwards. Slade approaches, a looming shadow over him. There’s that hooked, predatory grin on his face. Dick would be lying if he said it doesn’t make his stomach twist.
Slade cups his chin. Rubs his thumb against Dick’s lower lip, and it’s all Dick can do to not suck the man’s thumb into his mouth. “You’d make such a cute little cocksucker,” Slade muses.
Dick swears he hears the record scratch.
“What?” he says only a second after Bruce bellows, “Slade!”
“Oh, come on, Brucie. You know all too well what a nice piece of ass this one’s grown up to be.” Slade runs his hand down, gently flicking his thumb over Dick’s nipple, pebbled from the frigid basement air. “Gotham’s sexiest vigilante… I’d be inclined to agree.”
What. The. Fuck?
Behind Slade, Bruce is silent. Calculating. Dick squirms, shoulders jerking in his bindings.
“Son, you might not wanna thrash so much. A dislocated shoulder won’t stop me from making you my whore, but it’ll be a whole lot more of a bitch for you to deal with, capeesh?”
Dick gapes at Slade.
What. The. Fuck?
“Y—you can't," Dick forces out, although his mouth feels Saharan dry.
“Yeah? Care to explain why?” Slade crouches, smirking as he looks down at Dick. “‘Cause you don’t want dear old dad to see you getting fucked? Not a good enough reason, boy.” Oh God, Dick’s cock just twitched against his thigh. He’s so, so fucked. Literally. In the head, and probably by Slade once this is all said and done.
“Slade,” Bruce says, voice ragged and deep into the Batman register. “What are you playing at?”
“Come on, Bruce. Just sit back and enjoy the show.” Slade looks over his shoulder and nods at Bruce.
“How much do you want?” asks Bruce.
“To what?”
“Not touch him.”
“Mmmmm… I think I’d settle for an octillion.”
“Slade,” Bruce barks. “Five million.”
“Ah, negotiating, are you? Come on, you and I both know this ass is worth more than a measly couple million. You have nothing you can give me that I want more than shooting my load deeeeeep in this boy’s guts, Bruce.” Slade reaches down and rubs a palm over Dick’s abdomen, giving it a little pat before withdrawing.
Dick has to fight to keep from moaning aloud.
Fuck. Slade’s going to fuck him in front of Bruce — who has no idea Dick’s been fucking Slade this whole time.
Bruce growls loudly, but Dick can barely even hear it over the buzzing of his own reluctant arousal building in the back of his head. It’s like there are moths flitting around in his head, one shooting arousal to his groin, and the other saying no, no, no, don’t, not in front of Bruce, please, seriously, Slade?
How is he going to play this off to Bruce?
“Please,” Dick whispers, voice raspy. His eyes are glossy, probably from how bad he wants this, but he manages to flutter his eyes in a way that sends a tear drop sliding down his cheek. “Don’t… please don’t rape me.” Dick’s heart is hammering relentlessly against his ribcage. Bruce makes a noise like he’s been kicked.
But Slade? Slade’s eyes darken. He licks his lips. “Cute. You think you have a choice.”
Dick hears Slade’s knuckles crack against his cheekbone before he feels them. His head rings, slumping to the side. A ragged gasp tears out of his throat, face going up in flames.
“Wilson!” Bruce snarls, thrashing harder against his binds. “Don’t touch him!”
Dick juts out his lower lip, allowing his voice to warble and his eyes to glitter with unshed tears as he pouts, “Please. I don’t — not… please.”
“Unintelligble already?” Slade snorts, peeling off his gloves and tossing them to the floor. “Already raped stupid and you haven’t even seen my cock yet.”
Dick jerks back at the sheer violence in his words. Unfortunately for Dick, so does his cock.
“You can’t do this,” Dick whispers.
“Can and will, little bird. Can and will.” Dick’s mouth waters as Slade reaches for his belt. The armor comes undone so easily, his cock springing out and already half hard. Fuck, it’s so thick, the tip red and swollen. Dick wants to be shoved down on it, impaled on it, gagging and spasming. Fuck. “Ever sucked cock before?”
Dick looks at Bruce nervously. Bruce looks distressed. Hurt.
Slade taps the sore spot on Dick’s face where he’d been backhanded. Dick winces. “Come on, everyone here knows you're a floozy.”
“I… guess,” Dick whimpers. Okay, so he’s sucked a lot of dick. Sue him.
Slade huffs a grating laugh. “Yeah, I bet your diet’s… what, eighty percent splooge?”
“Please, Slade,” Bruce says. “Just leave him alone, he’s just—”
“What? Just a kid?” asks Slade. “I’m afraid he’s all grown up now, Bruce. You had him running around in those panties like the rapebait he is. People were bound to get ideas, yeah?”
Dick has to bite his tongue to keep from moaning.
“You can — take me instead, I’ll—” Slade chortles.
Dick tenses, bowstring taut. “B,” Dick says warily.
“Oh, no worries, pretty bird. Your papa’s not the one I’m after. It’s cute that he thinks he can bargain, though. That’s not how this,” Slade gestures between the three of them. “is going to go, Brucie. But points for trying.”
“Don’t hurt him! He hasn’t done anything wrong, Slade — don’t fucking touch him!” Bruce yells. He’s working his binds more and more frantically, but Dick can tell he’s not going to get out of them. Slade was too intensive. Too careful. It’ll take at least half an hour before Bruce has freed himself, and by then… well.
Too late.
“No need to clam up, Nightwing,” Slade says as he slaps his cock on Dick’s face. Dick makes a show of trying to squirm away, only for Slade to grab him by the scruff and haul him forward. “Being told no is the best part.”
Dick writhes, hands flailing around and windmilling under where his arms have been carefully, perfectly tied together. “You sick fuck,” Dick seethes. “You’ll get what you deser— ghrrkh!”
Cock. It fills Dick’s senses; the humidity, Slade’s musk, how he can barely siphon in air from his flared nostrils. Slade slides all the way in on the first try, cock sliding into the tight cavern of his throat. Drool bubbles up in Dick’s mouth as Slade fucks into him, hips rolling easily in and out of his hot mouth. He feels Slade’s cock hardening the rest of the way in his throat and the intrusion is so much. “Ahh, fuck yeah,” Slade groans. “Might wanna delay your next dentist appointment, kid. I’m gonna bruise this snatch.”
Dick coughs around Slade at the implication that he has a throatpussy. Slade smirks down at him, that ineffably smug look of his.
“You’re going to choke him!” Bruce says. “Jesus, slow down—”
“That’s the — unh — point, Wayne. What, you’re telling me you’ve really never given this kid the throatfucking he’s fiending for?” Slade laughs. “Bet you’re feeling stupid, now. Fuck, he’s got a tight throat.”
“Sroptt!” Dick tries to garble out around Slade’s cock. The words are immediately shoved back in his mouth when Slade gives another hard thrust. Fuck, his throat is going to be bruised.
Then, two fingers pinch Dick’s nose shut. Dick seizes, entire body protesting as he spasms in place.
Immediately, Dick drags his teeth along the top of Slade’s length on the wrong side of too hard. Slade jerks back, scowling a strained scowl as his cock slips free from Dick’s lips. A long line of drool sploshes on the floor between Dick’s thighs as he sucks in axing breaths.
“You’ve got balls, kid,” Slade pants. “I’ll give you that.”
Dick growls. His voice is ragged, his throat fucked raw. “Fuck you.”
Bruce makes a choked noise of apprehension.
“Quit giving me lip, bitch,” Slade says, stepping hard with the toe of his boot on Dick’s balls. Dick jerks, wailing as pain constellates his vision. He feels red, red, red all over, dizzy as his vision blears.
“Stop! Please! Fuck, ‘m sorry!” Dick whines in a rush, squirming against the floor. He sighs a hefty sigh of relief as soon as Slade lifts his foot. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Dick pants. “Please, I already sucked you off, just — just let us go.”
“You didn’t even make me come. With a name like yours, you could at least pretend to be enthusiastic.” Dick ignores the quip about his namesake and chooses to focus on how he’s pretending to be the opposite. And Slade damn well knows it.
“Mmm, what’s this? You get all hard and leaky from being roughed up?” Slade asks, dipping back into a crouch in front of Dick.
“Please no,” Dick pants. “It… it’s not like that, it’s a natural response—”
“It is, chum, it’s okay, it’s not your fault—” Bruce says, but his voice sounds far away. The reminder that Bruce is watching all of this makes Dick’s cock twitch again.
Slade snorts. “A natural response for a cock junkie, maybe. Fucking disgusting.”
Dick tries so, so hard not to arch against his bindings. He very narrowly succeeds. The need is coating him from the inside out, these hot flames lapping at his insides and spilling into his groin. He needs… more. Wants to be debauched by Slade for his mentor and father figure to watch. He squirms, a wet noise leaving his mouth. It’s so violating, but his cock disagrees. His cock thinks this is the best thing since his first fleshlight.
“Beg for it,” Slade croons, cupping Dick’s chin.
“B–beg for what?” Dick whines.
“Me to rape you. Maybe I’ll go gentle if you sound pretty enough.”
Bruce makes an appalled sound. “Dick, you don’t have to. This isn’t fair to you, I’m so sorry—”
“And if I don't?" exhales Dick.
“It’s happening either way,” Slade says. “But maybe, if you ask real pretty for me, I’ll use enough lube so that I don’t shred your sluthole.”
Dick shivers. He bleats.
“Dick, just deep breaths, it’s okay, it’s okay—”
“Nobody wants to hear your jibber-jabbering, Wayne!” Slade snaps over his shoulder. He turns back to Dick, deceptively gentle in how he caresses his cheek. “Now what’s it gonna be?”
Dick makes a muffled noise into his chest.
“Speak up. Unless I fucked up your vocal chords that bad, which I don’t think I did. You’re still fucking yappy.” Slade flicks his forehead.
“P-please… rape me,” Dick whispers. “Please, Slade, I want you to rape me,” he whines, letting his back arch with the bob of his cock.
“There you go,” Slade coos. “I bet you’d look good with that ass in the air, yeah?” But Slade knows that. This position is a favorite of his, which is exactly what Dick knows when he lets himself fall forward, shifting himself adjacent to Bruce. With his arms tied behind his back, he lets his thighs fall into a sinful spread. A drop of precum drips from his cock and puddles on the floor as he hefts his ass. “Good bitch.”
Dick shows his teeth.
Slade grabs at his belt and pulls out a packet of lube. They’ve emptied so many in their time together. There’s a jagged rip and then the wet noise of lube being warmed on skin as Slade rubs his fingers together.
“Slade,” Bruce tries again. “Anything you want. I can give it to you. I promise. He’s — you’ve done enough to him, please don’t… don’t—”
“Can’t you see he wants this?” asks Slade. “Bet you’re all jealous that his cock’s all swollen for a piece of shit like me and not for you. But his pecker doesn’t lie, Wayne. Look at him. Cockhead’s leakier than a pussy from being treated like a rapetoy.”
“You’re disgusting,” Bruce spits.
Dick sniffles, letting his forehead hit the concrete floor. “I don’t want it,” Dick whispers. “I don’t, I don’t, I—”
“But of course you do,” Slade coos, wrapping a thick hand around Dick’s cock. Dick’s gasp-moan-shriek is strangled and tense, ripping out of him. “You asked me for it. ‘Rape me! Rape me Slade! Please!’,” Slade mocks, voice all pitchy and pathetic. Slade scoffs.
“He doesn’t want this, you know he doesn’t!” says Bruce. “Let him go! Please, I can’t watch this, please let him go–”
Dick’s heart pangs with pain. God, he and Bruce are going to have to have a long, long conversation after this. He’s not looking forward to it; neither of them have a strong suit in talking.
“Mmmm,” Slade says contemplatively. Then, he brushes a lubed fingertip to Dick’s hole. It flutters, almost as if trying to invite Slade in. Molten heat clings to Dick’s cock. “Nah.” Slade thrusts his finger in, not being graceful at all whatsoever with his movements. Suddenly Dick’s stuffed with all of the knuckles of Slade’s middle finger, crooking gently inside of him and just, just avoiding his prostate. Dick twitches, wailing as the burn slowly gives way to a sensation of just being full.
More, more, more, Dick wants to say, but he doesn’t. He grits back his moans and squeezes his eyes shut and waits for Slade to give him everything, everything.
“Fuck,” Slade says. “I see why you keep this pretty bird around, now. Tight fuckin’ hole to pound into.” Slade laughs at what must be Bruce’s expression. “What’re you so pissy about, Bats? Mad I’m getting a taste of him? Or upset that you’ve never played with him before?”
Dick whines, a high and reedy sound as Slade grazes his prostate.
Bruce makes a choked sound. “I would never, he’s my—” Bruce seems to fumble for the word. “He’s my boy.”
“Looks an awful lot like my boy right now, but whatever helps you sleep at night,” Slade says just before shoving two more fingers in. It’s so much, bordering on too much, three fingers squeezed past his rim while he clenches and seizes around them.
“Stop!” wails Dick, fingers scraping at his back. “Hngk!”
“Well, if you insist,” says Slade as he pulls his fingers free with a slick pop.
Dick shrieks when he feels Slade’s cockhead tapping at his hole, swollen and leaking lube.
It takes Dick’s brain a second to catch up, largely only because Bruce has begun pleading with Slade. “No, he’s not nearly stretched enough, please, you can’t seriously—”
Dick stiffens, trying to crawl away. “Wait! No, no, that’s not what I meant, please don’t—” Please don’t stop, fuck me up, make me scream, make me your rapebitch.
And that’s exactly what Slade does. He hauls Dick back by the ass and slams all the way to the base. Dick screams, cheek smushing into the cold concrete floor as his vision grows dotted with stars and comets. Dick feels his ass rippling, hears the clap of flesh on flesh and Slade pulls out only to slam back in. Dick screams again like he’s being murdered, and maybe he is—
“I’m going to kill you, Wilson!” screams Bruce, and Dick’s never — never heard Bruce sound like that. Intense and honest and wanting to go through with something he’s sworn to never do. “Get your filthy hands off of him! Get off of him! Don’t touch him! Stop! Please, sto–” And Bruce sounds close to tears, then, like these little dry sobs are being yanked out of his chest—
Dick digs his fingernails into the small of his back to ground himself. He can’t bear to hear Bruce like that. “Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!” he moans as Slade thrusts in and out of him, enough to knock his temple against the hard ground on every buck. A simmering pleasure radiates in his cock, throbbing with each slick slide against his prostate. It burns, it hurts, it feels so good. “Sladesladeslade — please don’t — stop!” Dick notices his slip-up and scrambles to cover it. “S- Please don’t— do this! Stop it, ohhh, fuck! Fuckfuckfuck, ow! Ow, hurts—stop! I don’t — want this!”
Dick’s sobbing now, gasping and writhing on the floor as Slade uses him like a cock socket. The worst part is that he’s loving it. His cock hangs so low the slit is chafing against the floor, but he’s slowly slicking the ground with a puddle of his own precum. He’s leaking steadily, like he wants it. And he does. Bruce’s eyes staring at him, this audience as he pretends to be raped. Fuck, he could come any second now.
He fights not to let his thighs shake as Slade bucks into him, slamming hard against his prostate. He pries his eyes open only to have to shut them again so Bruce doesn’t see them rolling back to the whites. “You make a much better cumdump than a vigilante,” Slade hisses, grinding hard into Dick. Dick whines, squirming.
“Stop,” Dick rasps. “Please, you’re — hurting me…”
“But you’re so tight, Nightwing. It’s like you don’t want me to leave!” Slade spreads Dick’s cheeks and then lets them snap shut, showing off the filthy slide of Slade’s cock in and out of him. Dick’s responding moan is garbled.
Slade is so deep inside of him, he’s everywhere.
And Bruce is watching Dick be violated. Still begging Slade to stop off at the sidelines, wriggling against his binds. Dick can’t help but wonder if Bruce is hard. He hopes he is. Hopes he can overhear Bruce jerking off to this later. Hopes maybe Bruce will take advantage of him, too, use Slade’s sloppy seconds as lube…
“You gonna cum soon, birdie? Yeah, I bet you fuckin’ are,” says Slade in a syrupy bedroom voice. He wraps an arm around Dick to pull him up to his chest, bouncing Dick on his cock. Dick’s length throbs against his abdomen, twitching and jouncing with every thrust.
“Ungh! Oh fuck, agh—” Dick moans.
“Ungh! Oh, oh, oh, agh, Deathstroke, fuck me to death!” Slade mocks, and oh, if that’s not a thought. Dick can tell Slade knows what that type of talk does to him based on the husky laugh at the shell of his ear.
“F…fuck you!” Dick yells, writhing and squirming. Slade overpowered him so easily, turning him into some fuckdoll for his own pleasure. Slade only laughs again, wreathing an arm down so he can wrap a thick hand around Dick’s cock. Slade pumps him slowly, thumb stroking at his slit.
“Ah! Oh, shit. Slade! F-fuuuu fuck you! Don’t… don’t fucking—” Dick hiccups. “touch me! Stop! Please— stop it, oh!” At this point, it’s an effort not to bend his back into a bridge to give Slade all the leverage he needs to pound him silly. Instead, he forces himself straight and lets Slade yank him back onto him. Dick’s head rolls back onto Slade’s shoulder as he huffs through the pleasure combing through his body.
“Bastard,” Dick weeps as Slade keeps pumping his cock. “Getting off on raping a defenseless vigilante—”
“Oh, please,” Slade scoffs, grunting as he hits especially deep in Dick. Dick shivers, tensing his entire body to prevent how he’s aching to shake and tremble with pleasure. It quakes through him. Through all of the faultlines of his nervous system. Slade fists a hand in Dick's hair and yanks him back, lips grazing his ear. "You're forgetting something, Grayson. Fleshlights don't talk." Oh, god.
In the end, it’s not Slade fisting his cock that does it, or Slade pounding into him with no regard for his comfort. It’s Slade flipping him around, slamming him into the floor hard enough that part of it cracks, and slapping him hard across the face.
Dick sees stars.
His entire body seizes, white hot heat forking through his body like lightning. He screams as he comes, ropes of cum spraying across his stomach. A pearlescent stripe of it sprays his tongue, hanging out stupidly from pleasure. Dick whines, wincing away as he comes harder than he ever has in his life. All the while, Slade keeps battering his prostate, quickly sending Dick into mewling overstimulation.
“Bruce, Slade, Bruce, Slade, Bruce, oh god, Bruce!” Dick keens, head falling back. Slade chuckles.
“It’s almost over, Dick, I promise, I’ll get you out of this—” Bruce tries.
“See, Bruce?” Slade huffs out between thrusts. “See how fucking pretty he is when he comes? When he moans your name? Maybe you should give him a try one of these days.”
“Fuck, Slade, stop, please, hurts, stop, hurts!” Dick babbles, kicking and trying to shove Slade off. His cock is hot and oversensitive and burns with pleasure, but Slade doesn’t stop his relentless thrusts until he buries himself balls deep in Dick and empties his load, as promised, all in Dick’s guts.
Dick’s a trembling, shaking mess by the time Slade pulls out. Dick feels Slade’s cum trickling out of him. Dick whines, catatonic. His head slumps back with a hard crack against the concrete. His torso is striped with cum and he’s fairly sure he’s not going to be able to move for a while.
“You’re a nice fuck, kid,” Slade says, smacking Dick’s thigh. “We’ll do it again sometime.”
Somewhere in the distance, he hears stairs creaking. A door shutting. Dick’s still panting and he has no idea how long it’s been when he feels himself get scooped up into Bruce’s cradling arms.
“Shh, chum. Shh, it’s gonna be okay,” Bruce breathes into Dick’s ear. “I’ve got you. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again.”
And little does Bruce know — Dick really isn’t hurting at all.