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His skin was feverish and damp, breathing was becoming increasingly harder, and his heart was beating so fast that he could even feel it on his chest; his hands were tightly tied, and so were his feet, and while he still had his helmet on, the reality was that it did not provide much protection from what was going to come. The situation was way out of his control now. By the time he had regained consciousness, he had already been way too deep into the effects of what he assumed was Dr. Ivy's pollen; considering the strength of the effects, a new batch. He had once before confronted both Ivy and Harley about why she continued to make this kind of pollen, to which she replied: because their flowers are beautiful, and they, too, deserve to live. At the moment, the answer was too infuriatingly on par with both their personalities, so he had let it go.
Now that he is in this situation, however, he will definitely revise the conversation with them. Sure, their flowers are beautiful and deserve to live, but also, bastards like Black Mask and many other disgusting lowlifes were using them to harm and hurt others in ways in which Jason is sure Ivy would not approve. Either way, right now, Jason has to come to terms with the impending possibility that he will be raped tonight. Sionis seems way too interested in what's between his legs, and on whether or not he can make the Red Hood beg and cry, and— maybe biting his tongue until he dies again would not be such a bad idea. His cunt is pulsing, his hands are trembling, he already feels desperate and wet down there, and honestly, he does feel like crying a little bit. His coms are not working, not due to any damage, but possibly due to a jammer, and he knows no one is looking for him, because he did not tell anyone what he was doing or where he was. That one is on him, but he still maintains that he is an independent antihero and is therefore not obliged to tell them shit. He wonders how much longer until Sionis decides just to rape him already. Disgusting as it may be, he did see the outline of his cock, and it seemed a good enough size. Focus, Todd! Do not let the pollen win! Jason blames Sionis' stupidly tight leather pants for that tidbit of unwanted information. Hopefully, while Sionis is raping him, he can find an opportunity to escape and maybe, if God truly exists, to kill him on the spot. If not, Jason will surely come back to do it another day. All he has to do is escape. His physical responses to Sionis due to the sex pollen are one thing, but even strong as they are, they are not enough to diminish the disgust and hatred he feels over the situation, and unfortunately, the sheer terror he feels from the act and from having one of his most well guarded secrets out in the open— to an asshole like Black Mask, no less.
The longer he is exposed to the pollen, because Sionis is a sadist like that, and he decided to keep him under continued skin exposure to the pollen, the more extreme his symptoms become. His vision is now blurry, and he is drooling, his skin is sweaty, making him feel hot and cold at the same time, and his cunt is wet as fuck and is making his pants stick to his body. The bastard is saying something, but no matter how hard he tries, Jason can't focus enough to pay attention. He seems to be waiting for an answer and getting increasingly upset at being unable to garner a response— but Jason's final little act of rebellion, of control, in this situation, was to mute his helmet; so no matter what he does, unless he figures out how to take his helmet without setting out the explosives, he will not hear an answer. He might torture him and watch him squirm, but he at least will not get to hear him scream, or cry, or beg. His mind is drifting now— he has lost track of time— he has lost control of his body— someone is sobbing— it might be him— the sharp, cold edge of a knife on his skin brings him back abruptly. The time has come. Sionis is cutting off his clothes, starting with his compression shirt, with a knife that must have a damn good military-grade blade to be able to cut the material; the cold air feels just as sharp as the blade on his overheated skin, and he can't help the tremble of his body when the blade starts to cut around his crotch.
He briefly considers struggling, but when he tries, he finds that his body is so weak he can't do much of anything. If his hands were untied, chances are he wouldn't even be capable of raising a hand. Not even desperation and panic are helping him; as a matter of fact, they have only left him feeling more tired, akin to blood loss than sex pollen. He remembers being subjected to pollen when he was still Robin, and the feeling back then had been such horniness that he didn't even know how to deal until Ivy apologized and gave him the antidote. Now, he feels nothing but dread and tiredness, like his body is shutting down. He wonders how long he has been exposed to the pollen by now— there is a thundering crash above them and the sound of crystal falling, but his attention is immediately on his thigh, a sharp deep violent gash was made on his thigh, probably by a surprised Black Mask, and has left Jason gasping, overstimulated in a way he does not like but that the pollen is increasing— there is the sound of fighting, of bones breaking and snapping, of people screaming and bullets flying; one such bullet scratches his shoulder and Jason screams in pain, nobody will hear him anyway. His eyes come in and out of focus, his body struggles to be alert, but his mind keeps floating away— he catches words here and there, but nothing that makes much sense or tells him who came; at this point, Jason cannot see clearly, cannot hear either, and he does not know who it is. He hopes they are friendly.
The jammer must have gotten broken during the ongoing fight, because suddenly his coms come back to life, and the frantic voices of Red Robin and Spoiler come alive in his ears, apparently someone did hear him scream. Ups. Either way, he still can't figure out what they are saying, so he just gives them platitudes and says that he is okay. He isn't; he seriously thinks he might be dying. Oracle had gotten access to his vitals and confirms what Jason already suspected: his body is shutting down. The battle sounds become harsher and more desperate, a crescendo of screams and people begging. No more shots hit Jason, no more knives stab him either, and soon, the battle stops. Confident and quick steps hurry to his side, gloved hands run quickly over his body, looking for injuries, and leaving him trembling as if he had been shocked, it's not enough, please touch me more, please take out the gloves, they are talking again, and the voice is both comforting and desperate, warm and hurried, and begs him to take out the helmet, but he can't he is tied. As if hearing him, maybe they are hearing him, maybe they are also connected to the coms, his hands get untied and then gently guided towards his helmet, as if knowing that he does not have the strength to do it himself. There is only one person in Gotham who would still touch him with gentleness, and blindly believing this to be him, he unlocks the hatch with his biometrics and allows the helmet to be removed. The black and blue blob in front of him is definitely Nightwing, who, after freeing his feet, carries him on his arms and towards the exit. He hears him curse, saying he doesn't have a car and only a motorcycle, and whoever he is speaking to apparently tells him to suck it, because Dick just places Jason in front of him on the motorcycle, facing Dick instead of the road, and wraps an arm tightly across his middle; and Jason can't help but wonder, if he is just not important enough to send the Batmobile for— go figure.
Jason wakes up in a bathtub with lukewarm water, and he wonders: how did he get there, how much time has passed, and how long since he lost consciousness? He can hear Dick in another room frantically telling someone that he is unresponsive and that the bath is not helping with his fever. He's so tired still, so he closes his eyes again. When he reopens them, he is on a soft bed with Dick Grayson right above him. For the first time in what feels like a very long time, his mind is clear. Clear enough to notice that Dick is naked. That he, himself, is also naked. And that this is decisively not the Batcave nor a hospital. "What's going on?" His voice is slurred a little. Whatever this may look like, he's sure it's not what it is, because the Golden Boy is a good person. He must have a good reason for this. Dick's face is red, which is a sight to behold, because Jason is not even sure he knows what embarrassment is anymore, and oh. Oh. Dick's hands are on his chest, and they do feel wonderful, but the embarrassing thing here is that Jason has curved his entire back to push his chest more into Dick's hands, like a wanton— fuck. His mind is clear, but the effects are clearly not over. "Dickie?" Dick's hands squeeze his chest once more, then slowly drag down to his abdomen, then again towards his chest.
"Jay—" Dick's voice is rough. He feels himself flush bright, and turns his face to the side, trying, fruitlessly, to hide and knowing without a doubt, that the flush must cover all the way from his face right towards his chest by the way Dick's eyes seemed to be transfixed on him. There is a reason he wears a helmet, and it's not entirely just to protect his head. "You did not respond to the antitoxin, or the bath—" His hands have not stopped touching him, and he can even feel the warmth of his thighs trapping his legs in place. "You were unconscious and your vitals were dropping—" Without his consent, his own legs started rubbing each other, trying to give some attention to a part of himself that he shouldn't in these circumstances "Turns out it was a mixture of cuddle and sex pollen, not something Ivy made, but a special concoction made by Black Mask" Even if she didn't make it, Jason will still have words with her regarding the security of her gardens. "Selina tracked Harley down. Ivy is already working on an antitoxin for you—" Fuck, does everyone know Jason's business now? "Don't make that face, Jay, you really scared me. Was a really close call." He can feel the slight tremble in his hands, even if his voice sounds calm and steady. So Mask managed to create a Fuck or Die pollen, huh? Fucking shit.
"You found the rest of his stock yet?" At Dick's incredulous stare, he just raises an eyebrow, "What, you seriously don't think he used all of it on me, do you?" They have to get that shit out of the streets ASAP.
"No, but I figured you would have other, more pressing questions than that one." One of Dick's hands goes to his face and cups his cheek, and Jason can't help but nuzzle it like a touch-starved cat. Maybe that's just what he is.
"Hm... this shit is dangerous, Wing, normal people won't survive this." Jason almost didn't. Or maybe he would've, though he doubts Black Mask would have been kind enough to give him what he needed. More likely, he'd just take what he wanted.
Dick's face hardens for a moment, then he sighs, "RR and Spoiler are on it." The soft touches from Dick's hands were helping him think clearly, but were bringing up an entirely different type of problem with them. While Jason could offset his physical response, at least the tiniest bit, when it was just disgusting Sionis around him, it's increasingly more difficult to do the same when it's the gorgeous and perfect Dick Grayson, with calloused warm hands on his skin, kneading his muscles here and there, and looking at him with such wonderful eyes. Is it adoration that he sees in his eyes? Is it desire? Or is it just Jason's wishful thinking? "How are you feeling?" He feels like he needs more than what he can ask for. A different type of fear under his skin. They had been dancing around it for a few months, but neither made the move, and there must have been a reason for it, right? A reason why neither Dick nor Jason tried anything, he knows his own, but what about Dick? But now Jason's hands are softly grasping at Dicks thighs, nails scratching him a little bit, and Dick is slowly leaning towards him, resting his forearms next to his head and covering his entire being with his warm body. He can't quite help the moan that leaves his lips, nor the gasp when he feels Dick's hands on his thighs, or the whimper that comes out of him when Dick whispers hotly in his ear, "Is this okay?" as he caresses him. He doesn't know what to say, how to say it even, because he feels breathless and like pudding on Dick's hands; all gooey and sweet.
He must have said something, though, because soon enough Dick is kissing him, softly placing his lips on Jason's, then quickly deepening it; taking everything that Jason has to offer, and then more. And Jason is not exactly pushing him away, how could he? When he has everything he has ever desired. Feeling Dick's hips grind on him brings forth the realization that Jason both has his underwear still on and that the briefs are soaked through. "Please," He begs. For what he is not sure, but apparently Dick knows because soon he is being kissed everywhere, from his face, to his neck, his chest, his abdomen, his navel, and then— Dick looks directly at his eyes, the request obvious, and Jason stops for a moment to think about it. His secret is right there, and he might have already noticed the lack of something, but going forward would be letting him see the truth; there's a reason he was so apprehensive in pushing for the next step with Dick before— he decides to bet everything he has on Dick, and nods his head. Softly, Dick's fingers grab the elastic band of his briefs and start to drag them down his legs, oh so torturously slow, until all of Jason's secrets are laid bare.
Dick lets out a small gasp, and then a trembling hand caresses his pussy with gentle, soft touches. Jason has closed his eyes and is honestly too afraid to open them despite Dick's murmured words of appreciation and fascination. It isn't until he feels the hot, moist breath of Dick on his cunt, that he opens them, and what he sees leaves him floored. Dick is neither disgusted nor uninterested by what he sees; instead, his pupils are blown wide, and he has buried his nose in his pubes, inhaling deeply. He uses two fingers to spread his lips open, while his right hand holds Jason down; he plays with his clit and sucks at it hard, then starts kissing it and licking under its hood; he flattens his tongue to lick the entire length of his pussy, and when he is done, he goes back to sucking at his clit. He leaves Jason seeing stars, and he can't quiet his screams. He briefly worries about neighbors hearing him, but finds that the thought is quickly erased from his mind once Dick pushes a finger inside his wet and dripping hole. "D-dick!"
Truth be told, Jason has never been with anyone before, so he has no experience; but he believes that the speed at which Dick is fucking his finger in and out of his pussy is divine, and it's making him lose his mind while also making embarrassing squelching sounds that leave him lightheaded; meanwhile, Dick is sucking hard on his clit and making slurping noises, and Jason's body is struggling to keep itself whole while his soul is unraveling. It's not that it doesn't feel good, but more like he is afraid of how good it feels, because something is happening to his body, and he is losing control fast. Dick adds another finger and starts fastening his pace in a furious rhythm; Jason starts trying to get away on instinct, but Dick holds him down by the waist. He thinks he might even be kicking him on the back, he has the sheets bunched up in his hands, and tears are falling down his eyes and— bright lights shine behind his eyes and he can't hear anything but the deafening sound of his heartbeat on his head, he's overflowing, floating away as his legs spasm and his walls contract around Dicks fingers. Later, when prodded by Dick, he would say that it wasn't that big of a deal. It was just an orgasm, his very first and an earth-shattering orgasm. Dick doesn't need a bigger ego.
Dick doesn't stop there, though. As soon as Jason catches his breath again, Dick pushes a third finger inside of him and puts all of his strength in fucking him with his fingers; he does it so hard and so fast and so soon after the first one that Jason's juices come flying everywhere, wetting Dick's arm and chest, Jason is moaning and grunting and crying, his fingers now tangled on Dick's hair and his hips almost flying off the bed when his second then third orgasm hit one after the other back to back.
Dick kisses his lips then, letting Jason taste himself on his tongue, biting at his lips and loving every second of it, "Can I put it in, Little Wing?" he whispers on his lips, and Jason doesn't even think twice before he says yes. Please, yes. He doesn't know how he could possibly live without it. He glances at Dick's crotch and catches sight of it for the first time. It's long and curved, and it seems way thicker than three fingers, and Jason has never had anything more than Dick's fingers, but he thinks he can take it. No, he will take it. Dick is already so hard, his head is dripping precum, and he only gives it a couple of tugs before he starts rubbing his cockhead all over the swollen lips of his pussy.
Both their attentions are hyper-focused on that one action, watching how his cockhead slides up and down in between his folds, until, finally, the spongy head pops in, spreading his entrance incredibly wide and making Jason wince. Dick, of course, notices and tries to pull out, but Jason knows he can take it, so he locks his legs behind Dick's waist and pulls him towards him; Dick goes willingly, lies chest to chest on top of Jason, grabs his legs and forces him to open them, reassures him that he won't pull out, that he just wants to try something, so Jason let's go of his waist and let's Dick move him as he pleases. He maneuvers Jason's legs until his knees are almost to his chest, then pushes his cock slowly, inch by inch, while pressing Jason down on the bed. He feels overwhelmed by the pressure, the heat, and the girth; every time he thinks Dick is done pushing in, there's still one or two more inches pushed inside him, he is losing his breath and his toes are cramping from how hard he is tensing them in pleasure— he moans as Dick pulls out then immediately pushes back in, he has one hand on Jason's chest and the other one on his clit and at some point or another it became Jason's responsibility to hold onto his own legs and keep himself spread— Dick's moans and groans rival his own, and Jason starts babbling, a litany of yes and there and please and Dickie and harder and more and don't stop he doesn't know how many more times he comes, but he knows when Dick is about to— he can feel it, the changes in the rhythm, how he grinds down when he is deep, deep, deep, inside, the way he sighs every time he pulls out and moans every time he fucks in; he is hitting something with his cockhead that brings both pain and pleasure to Jason and then— he can feel it inside of him, the rush of warm liquid filling him up, painting all of his walls and marking him in a way that no other ever has before, the mere idea of Dick coming inside of him, being his first, brings such exhilaration and pleasure that Jason comes with him and loses himself; he comes back slowly to Dick peppering kisses on his face and smiling sweetly at him, "Your fever is gone, sweetheart." Such honeyed petnames don't suit him, but he has no energy to fight Dick on it; so he simply kisses him back and goes to sleep. "Alright, Little Wing, go to sleep." They can figure out the rest later.
It went like this: Black Mask had managed to ambush him in Gotham. He had knocked him out and then had taken him to Bludhaven, thinking that if he took the Red Hood away from Gotham, the Big Bat would not involve himself. And technically, he was right. Because the one who both noticed his absence and tracked him down to his own hunting grounds was none other than Nightwing. Jason had forgotten entirely that he had made plans with Dick to go over some case files (which was just the pretext Dick was using to have Jason cook for him and the one Jason was using to spend some alone time with Dick). When Jason didn't show up and then didn't answer his calls, Dick started to track him down like the obsessive bloodhound that he secretly is. The details of how he found him are unclear, but when Jason's coms came live again, he was immediately connected by Oracle to the main line and had everyone hear him scream, including Dick, which only fueled his fury while fighting Black Mask and his goons. Afterwards, Dick brought him to his apartment to try to help him (Apparently, it's not that they didn't want to send the Batmobile for him; it's that he wasn't even in Gotham to begin with. Good to know). No matter what he did, Jason continued deteriorating, and then, entirely by accident, while he bathed him, he realized that skin-to-skin contact helped with his breathing, and eventually, reduced his fever, which somehow ended with Dick taking both of their clothes off. One thing led to another, and they had sex, which cured his fever and kick-started their relationship. Huh. They didn't even need Ivy's cure in the end, though it was funny to watch Harley knocking on the window during a rainstorm with a shit-eating grin, a paper bag, and a giant mallet.
It stopped being funny when she asked them if they had used birth control. Apparently, pollen raised their odds.
All in all, maybe Jason does owe some thanks to Sionis. Next time they meet, Jason will break all of his bones, but will not kill him. Yet.