50kinkyways fic 3, A Darker Path AU fic: Broken Past, Darker Futu

[sylph_fics]

I know, I know. I'm the one that's said since it started that the "Renegade" arc sucks (generally in much more graphic terms than that) and that it was not part of my canon. *sigh* This is, just slightly, coldfiredragon's fault, because she made me understand where it might have come from better than Devin ever could with Forever is an Awful Long Time and Pieces of a Puzzle, which everyone ought to read. She has more now, too, but it doesn't go with this. Besides, without them, this won't make much sense. ...Though, if you've friended me and you're not reading her, what the heck?!

She said I could play in that scenario after a convo with pervyficgirl spawned the truly epic evil that is this fic. ..Yeah. That happy, fix-it fic I wanted to write? This is not it.

Title: Broken Past, Darker Futures
Pairing: Dick/Roy (Renegade/Roy, actually, cannot believe I forgot to change it...)
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Non-con (7)
Warnings: non-con, obviously, coercion, off-screen deaths of secondary characters, AU, language, some various other kinks. This is Dark, Dark, Dark. I mean it.
Continuity: In my own little reality, the 'Renegade' arc happens before the Outsiders blow the HQ, and Dick never came back after the "I quit" scene. And Infinite Crisis is only barely beginning.
Summary: When Slade's contracted to take out the Outsiders, he pays Dick a fee to make it easy... .and Roy's world is only just starting to fall apart with that contract. *loves on merfilly for the amazing beta, and perfect summary*
Feedback: Um... I'm scared the fb on this is going to be death threats, given what's inside, but...


Roy snapped awake to the feel and sound of the entire HQ shaking, rubbing sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand while he rolled out of his bunk. An hour down was just not enough time... He shoved his feet into his boots and reached for the armor, yanking it on painfully fast. Hands went to bow and quiver, shoving head and shoulder through the strap quickly. He spent the time to pull up camera feeds on his computer and looked into a disaster. The shaking was explained as he saw Thunder struggling to pull herself out of a wall, obviously thrown by by... Bane? //Huh?// That didn't make sense, but he had no time to think about it, eyes drawn from scene to scene--a pair of slim women containing a struggling Shift in the same gear he'd used, Grace struggling, enraged, with a hulking man in green //the damned Turtle?//

//How did they get in, the perimeter sensors should have warned us before they could get near this far... NO time, Harper, move!//

He headed out the door, arrow already knocked to bow, scanning the hallway, then moving, heading first for Shift--with Bane and the Turtle, he was going to need all the help he could get! Needing a mix of caution and speed he moved at a half-run, wondering who else was in the building as he moved. He flattened himself against the wall at the sound of an unfamiliar voice cursing, British-accented and female, and a curvaceous blonde in gold and red --//wow, great rack//--came around the corner, hauling Kory's unconscious body by an arm, eyes up and alert and //oh, shit// a gun in her hand. He couldn't see her eyes widen for the mask, but her forearm tensed and he went sideways and rolled, bolting back down the hallway and through the stairwell door.

He slung his bow over his back and vaulted the railing to drop a floor and head out that way, running the plans of the building through his head, betting he knew it better than she could... and //aw hell, how the fuck?// he was wrong as he discovered three floors --//main floor, almost there//-- and eight minutes later when a bullet ricocheted off the wall not a foot from his head. "Now just stop. I'm not supposed to hurt you," came that same British voice, "unhappy as that makes me."

//What the?!// He turned towards her slowly, palming a blade off his far hip, starting to raise his other hand in surrender--and flung the blade, catching her high in the shoulder of her gun (right) hand and moved again. Dead run, no need for stealth after that scream, twisting his body around the corner just in time to go face-first into one yellow boot and fall. //One of the girls that got Shift, god, you're familiar, who are you, who told me about you?//

He went for another blade, trying to get back up, and the space between spike-heel and the ball of her foot dropped hard around his wrist, trapping it with her full weight. Barely a heartbeat later, her copy dropped a foot over his other wrist, pinning him flat against the ground. One knelt long enough to slice the string and pull his bow out from under him--he was almost grateful for that--then the other got the quiver and the rest of his weapons with expert hands.

He looked between their bodies, past them, and saw first Grace's body, then Thunder's //still breathing, thank gods//, Turtle and Bane standing close over them. Shift's container was close by and he could see him trying to form into something that would free him, //Good, keep trying, I know there's not much chance, god, Dick where are you?// He kept looking, and found Mirror Master standing over Jade's still body, looking far too smug. //Turned her power back on her..//

He heard the angry click of a set of heels behind him and tensed against the strike he could hear coming in the harshness of her breathing, twisted around to look towards the enraged curve of her lips as she pulled her leg back--//this is going to hur--//--and got a perfect view of an arch of whistling silver steel as it gashed through the armor she was wearing. It cut deep into her thigh all the way across and glanced off the wall with a harsh, metallic noise. Startled, he twisted his head to watch the curve of that flight, and when a dark-gloved hand snapped casually out of the shadows to catch it, silver blur stilled into the familiar shape of one of 'Wing's shuriken, hope made his heart damned near skip a beat, //Took you lo--//

Then he stepped fully into the light, and every bit of hope he'd had ran out of him like water. That wasn't Wing's suit, wasn't him--but the body was, that looked like his lover, even in the blood-red and black wrongness of that armor. Even his face looked right, if you ignored the vicious smile on his lips as he took another step forward, moving with the lazily confident grace he hadn't seen from his lover since before Donna died... //C'mon, short pants, clue me in, give me something...//

His eyes flashed towards Bane and Turtle, expecting both of them to react to the sudden appearance of one of the best and brightest the hero community had ever had--and they stayed still, merely watching. A numb, sick fear was starting to build in his chest as he watched his lover pass unimpeded and with only a single, uncaring glace at their bloodied, half-broken teammates, and still... the cool, uncaring tone in Dick's low, calm voice as he said, "Lady Vic, where's Starfire?" took him by surprise.

"Out cold upstairs, I had to leave her to chase your boy here," hate was thick in her voice, but he couldn't tell about who, not with the way pain was twisting it... and that, of itself, was worrying. Dick never hurt someone that badly accidentally--or a human that badly on purpose. He could almost hear the blood hitting the floor not a foot behind him, and tension crawled through him. His legs were free, he could get free of the pinning feet, but... there was no point, not disarmed and with the blonde (Lady Vic--didn't she try to kill Dick?) behind him with the guns and Bane and Turtle not twenty feet away. He'd be shot or broken before he could do more than get to his feet, and he wasn't about to die on his baby girl. Vic was still talking, "--that good a lay, tha--"

"Yes, about that," his entire body froze at that gentle, icy tone as Dick cut through her ranting--he knew that voice, knew what it meant when Dick went into that still, perfect, liquid-nitrogen cold--Dick was fighting a hell of a rage, and his target was in serious trouble, "I thought I'd made it perfectly plain that no-one but me touches him..."

//Hu-uh?// He felt his own jaw go slack as he watched Dick get closer, saw the anger hidden under the easy, liquid grace of every perfectly balanced step. He moved to go around the twin on his left to step almost into the blonde's space, and Roy couldn't see him anymore, couldn't twist his head far enough to see what was happening, but he heard the soft song of steel clearing leather again and tensed, waiting, absolutely certain now that something was horribly, horribly wrong. He didn't want to look, didn't want to see what had brought on her sudden, choked breath.

"Y-you did," Lady Vic stammered, and the fear in the assassin's voice frightened him. "I wasn't going to hurt him--" She'd barely finished the sentence when the hard sound of armor hitting armor echoed in the quiet room and she wheezed for breath, sounding like she was trying not to scream.

"You shot at him. You don't shoot to miss. Don't lie to me, Vic." Roy could hear the unspoken, 'It annoys me, and you don't want to do that' plain as if Dick--//this can't be Dick, it can't//--had said it aloud.

"Fuck you," was her sharp, harsh retort, "you can't hide behind your new Daddy forever, Ni--"

The name was broken by her sudden, high scream, and Roy was dead certain he didn't want to know what Dick had done.

"The name, is Renegade, Elaine. I won't tell you again. I'm not hiding behind anyone. Though," the sudden shift to a light, considering tone at that word was terrifying for the quicksilver mood it implied, and Roy tensed up again, trying to put the pieces of this together fast enough and failing completely as Dick kept talking. "I will be certain to tell Slade what you think of him..."

He'd never heard that much fear in someone trying not to scream with pain as she started to beg him not to do that, that she didn't mean it--and the absolute sincerity in her voice scared him almost as badly the use of Slade and Daddy in relation to Dick did. Almost. //No, no Dick, please no...// After a moment he heard Dick laugh--if something that cutting could ever be called a laugh when it came from Robin's throat--just before the heavy sound of a body hitting the floor behind him pulled another cry of pain from Lady Vic's throat, close enough that he could feel it against his hair.

"Ali, Margot, let him up," Di--Renegade, damn it--ordered, and the women standing over his wrists moved, watching him warily as he stayed still. He couldn't move. This wasn't making enough sense for him to even try to move. He couldn't predict what D-Renegade was going to do well enough to even start to try moving, not without some clue to tell him what the fuck was going on...

A red-gloved, blood-streaked hand wrapped around his bicep as -Renegade, damn it, crouched fluidly beside him silently, saying 'up' with the pressure of his fingers between bicep and tricep, other hand sliding under his shoulder-blade and before he knew it he was on his feet. He stood there for a long moment, shaken by what he'd just let happen, and his head snapped back defiantly, turning, eyes narrowed at the //in my colors// red-and-black clad figure holding his arm. This close, it was impossible to mistake Dick's clean-cut, gorgeous features under the wrong-shaped, wrong-colored mask--the concern written in the corners of his mouth, over and above the carefully calm expression was enough to make Roy suck in a harsh breath, fighting with everything he had to keep quiet, keep a lid on his temper until Dick could fucking explain....

"Elegantly done," came another, hated voice from behind him, sounding both satisfied and proud, and Roy watched Dick suddenly smile over his shoulder, the kind of true, proud smile he hadn't seen in so long, the one that used to come out when Batman would say something like that... Seeing it at Slade's voice, at the assassin's praise--was so wrong he couldn't even think of the words, and it terrified him all over again. Dick could lie with his mouth, but never with his body and his pleasure at the praise--//for betraying us, Dick? What the fuck?!//--was entirely too evident. "I had my doubts, but you put this together nicely. Double Dare. Go fetch Starfire, and see to patching up Lady Vic. She might still be useful."

"Yes, sir," came from the two in yellow, and now he knew what to call them. He heard them moving, heard Lady Vic gasp after sounds of movement, and he couldn't look anywhere but at Dick's jaw. He didn't want to see any of this, didn't really want to see that smile, either, but it was better than the alternati--

"Renegade. Take him and go. You don't need to stay." Slade spoke again, and Renegade nodded quickly, back in motion before the words even died into silence. Roy struggled against the pull of his hand for a moment, more out of instinct than intention, until Dick's voice hissed into his ear, hot with annoyance, "Stop fighting me, damnit," and toes slammed into a nerve group in his left calf, making him stagger--it turned into a step, and another. D--Renegade was moving quickly, pulling him towards the nearest exit not blocked by Lady Vic, and he couldn't help wondering why the hell he was in such a hurry... Then he heard a familiar, metallic click--//safety off//--and the ratchet of a slide being racked--//oh, god NO//--"Dick?!" he hissed the exclamation, confused and shocked and baffled as to why he wasn't on the floor with the others, waiting for a bullet--

"Shut up and don't look back," was the low, harsh retort and Renegade slammed the door open, then shut behind them with his free hand. Even HQ's soundproofing couldn't completely muffle the gunshot. //God, who?// Someone was dead. Slade didn't do flesh wounds. He couldn't help the nasty smile at the way red-clad shoulders jerked at the sound. //Good. Fucking feel guilty, you sold us out, you knew what would happen!//

The thought made him angry enough to take the swing, hard roundhouse punch straight at his jaw without anything to telegraph it--and he knew he was in trouble when the block was there before Dick could possibly have reacted and the force of it sent a jarring shock up the length of his arm. No time to wonder how if he wanted a shot at getting out of this, though. The hand around his bicep let go--//weird//--and he struck again, hard kick aimed into Renegade's ribs. It, too, was blocked with an uncannily fluid speed and he moved, radically changing positions, trying to take Dick off-guard--and a nerve-strike deadened one arm before he even saw it coming. Arm disabled, he kept moving, suddenly feeling like he was fighting a... //a god damned meta// as he watched Renegade. Still Dick's style, but faster, more fluid, more vicious... The combination of that and Slade clicked like pieces of a puzzle--//oh, Dick, no, you didn't?//

The momentary distraction was all his adversary needed and Roy heard a second gunshot as he fell to a second nervestrike, the awful thought following him down into the cold blackness.

***

The slow, repetitive stroke of a hand down his shoulder and arm pulled Roy back to consciousness, despite his struggle to stay asleep, stay in the safety of a dream-world where the last several hours had never happened--then Dick's voice slid over his ears, low and sweet. "I know you're awake, Roy."

The voice, the statement, were both so normal that Roy opened his eyes and twisted to look at Dick, eyes widening at the sight that met his eyes. He'd almost thought they were safe, for a moment. Dick was half-laying against a pile of pillows in the center of a truly massive bed--he'd been resting on half of one of them, apparently--sprawled in an indolent lounge with his left hand still on his shoulder, dressed in some ink-black material that was perfectly tailored to display the fantastic body Roy'd never stopped wanting. The sleeveless vest-thing, collared and unbuttoned to halfway down his sternum, displayed gymnast's musculature so damned perfectly--//it's a good loo--shut up and focus, damn it.// "Where ar--"

He shook his head, black hair moving against the crimson red of the pillows, "Don't bother asking. Roy, I can't tell you." The look on his face was one Roy couldn't quite place. It looked like it was based in spoiled-rich-kid, but there was a harder edge to it than Dickie Grayson had ever worn--yet it was too supremely self-confident to belong on the cop, too open for Nightwing, and nothing at all like Robin... He didn't know who this was on the bed with him, and that scared him again.

"Can't or won't, Dick? There was a time you could tell me anything," god he sounded bitter, even to his own ears, but steady, bright blue eyes never wavered from his face.

"Some of both, actually, but mostly can't, in the "am not allowed to" sense." Dick's hand slid up his shoulder, in toward his throat and Roy jerked away, twisting to kneel up on the bed out of range of Dick's hand. //Not Dick, damn it. Not my Dick. (gonna call him by codename in bed?) Fuck...//

""Allowed"? By who, Slade? Dick, what the hell are you thinking, man, what's gotten into you?!" He was hoping, praying, for some kind of answer that would make sense of the reality he was trapped in, the reality where Dick Grayson, Batman's first Robin, would ever allow his friends to die--god, he couldn't go there, couldn't allow himself the luxury of mourning in bed with their killer.

'That it was long past time I stopped trying to pretend Bruce gave a damn about me."

He couldn't believe his ears, couldn't believe that Dick could still lie there so utterly unconcerned as he nonchalantly admitted to throwing his entire life, and everything they'd ever been to each other, away. "So, what, you just suddenly decided to say the hell with it to over a decade of your life and went evil? Why?! Why for once in your life couldn't you have said fuck it all and come home?!"

He had half a second's warning, written in the shift of Dick's shoulders, and suddenly he was flat on his back with Dick's weight hard on his chest, pinning him down, Dick's hand pressing down hard on his right shoulder, other hand resting against the bed, blue eyes hot, "Becau--" the best chance he'd had of getting a real answer vanished as Dick stopped, and shook his head. "Don't, Roy. Just don't... I was in too deep. Slade pulled me out, put me back on my fee--"

"Dick, you better than anyone know there's always poison in anything that son of a bit--" Dick's tongue was suddenly in his mouth, lips sealed over his hot and urgent and he struggled, tossing his head against the covers--//NO!// He bit at Dick's tongue, shoving the heels of both hands up into his lover's ribs hard, //NOT like this!/ Dick yanked his mouth away, barely reacting to the hits that should have knocked the breath out of him, his eyes blazing black fury--and pain blazed through his jaw as Dick slapped him, hard, fire lancing from his ear to the corner of his mouth, the crack lost in the sound of Dick's voice and eyes gone cold again, "Don't. You're mine, Roy. That's the only reason you're still alive."

He felt his jaw drop open, staring up at this man who was nothing like his lover in shock, trying to put those words into an order and context he understood. His head shook in disbelief, negation, and he stammered, "Wh-what?"

"You're mine," and the hand that petted down his flaming cheek was agonizingly gentle, at odds with the coolness still in his voice. "When we were approached to take out the Outsiders, I told Slade you were my price. That you're mine, and no-one hurts you. We... discussed it a while, but he finally agreed. As long as you're mine, you're safe."

"I'm not yours. The man I was with is as dead as the rest of my team." Only the surety that there could be nothing left of his laughing-eyed lover in the cold, hard-voiced stranger pressed up against his body let him snarl that in defiance of that hungry possessiveness, try to pull away from that caressing hand... To absolutely no avail, his hand just followed his cheek, cupping hard around his jaw, forcing him to meet those cold blue eyes again... If he had any sense, the look there would have cowed him--but he'd never been the smart one.

He moved, twisting to throw him off his body towards the floor, willing to hit it himself if necessary, slamming an elbow up and in full-force. He heard a crack at the impact even as the force of his roll pushed them off the edge of the bed--and somehow in the second they were in the air Dick twisted, flowing like water around his body and Roy wound up eating plush carpet with a hundred and seventy-odd pounds of lethally furious unhinged ex-hero kneeling over his spine, weight all on his back, pushing the breath out of him--and he'd managed to land solidly on his arms. /How in the hell did he do tha--//

"God damn it," hit his ears from a voice still icy in rage and he felt Dick's weight shift, felt him reach up--to the frame of the bed, and heard the soft noise of steel clearing leather, freezing at that sound in this man's presence. //Dick don't please...//

"Hold still," he was ordered, and could do nothing but, not with Dick using that tone, tone his body couldn't help reacting to, much as he tried to hide the shiver that ran down his spine. He lay still, wary and wondering... then heard the sounds of a blade being deftly slicing his armor open at the seams, felt the cold kiss of the back of the blade--//two-edged, Dick always--// against his back at troublesome spots, and by the time Dick slit open the shoulders he was just trying not to shake out of mingled anger and fear and lust--damn the son of a bitch, he knew...

The weight on his back lifted, Dick moving to push the destroyed top away, leaving him laying on the remnants of it, then he paused a long moment, thighs curved hard all along his sides, weight settled on the small of his back. "Roy, you've always been mine." Flat declaration as a hand petted from the bottom of his shoulder-blades up to lay hard against the back of his neck, thumb against his carotid and fingers curved down past his jugular vein, thumb stroking, "and always will be."

Roy sucked in a breath, intending to deny it again--and Dick's hand tightened hard, making him shake in reaction despite himself. God, how long had it been since Dick sounded like he wanted him at all, let alone held him with that kind of strength and possessed him so com--//This is NOT your lover!// his mind screamed, and he just shuddered, caught between desires... That seemed to satisfy the pushy son of a bitch over him, and Roy felt him twist and lean backwards, reaching for something, by the shifts of his weight. After a moment of various soft noises, "Give me your left wrist."

"If you think I--" He might not be able to fight this, but that didn't mean he had to help--and the anger was helping to burn away all of the need Dick's presence always built in him, had already made so thick it was hard to breathe for the need (and the hurt).

"Give me your wrist, or I'll knock you out again, Roy. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself."

Same possessive, demanding tone as always, though Roy could hear the ice in it, and his body couldn't help reacting to it, just like he'd reacted to the blade, still trying to hide the depth of his reaction--he knew he'd meant the threat. He couldn't stand the thought of this stranger's hands on him when he couldn't react, wouldn't remember--so he lifted enough to free his arm, push his wrist back to the small of his back, rolling that shoulder to ease it, already knowing what was going to happen and he wanted so badly to say no, to say Bruce's name and get Dick to stop, at least long enough to make him understand why, but... //What if he doesn't? I... If I say no, and he--I can't. If I don't... it's not...//

Dick's fingers ran over the veins at his wrist so gently, touch that had always sent flame blazing through him--and now was no different, not with the fire already burning in his body from the blade...//God damn it...// The hand stayed there for long, long moments, just stroking his wrist in this uncanny silence--then the possessive fingers slipped away and he shuddered as he felt leather brush along his forearm--and cold metal slide against the small of his back. Then Dick locked the cuff closed and he felt every inch of it, half again the width of his hand and perfectly fitted to grip his arm close as skin--//he planned this, but we never--// They'd never used steel, first for lack of spare cash, then for lack of time, that Dick would go for steel now...

He felt Dick move his arm, bend it to lay his hand palm-up just over his right kidney and shivered at the cold steel laying heavy against his skin, cool leather pressed into his wrist in the worst kind of tease--

"Right hand, Roy."

His nails bit into his hand hard as he fought not to just give in, to let this stranger with his lover's voice and knowledge and body take over--but this wasn't his lover, his beloved, giving in to this Dick would betray everything they'd ever had....

"Roy, now," and his wrist was in Dick's hand before he even realized the intent to move. He'd obeyed that command-voice for too many years under too many conditions to fight it--and suddenly hated the fact. Dick moved this arm, now, laid his hand above his left forearm and locked the other cuff around it, then there were two harshly metallic clinks in his ears along with a slight shift of the cuffs-- //He locked them together,// he realized, and jerked his right wrist up, left down, testing... He was right. The sudden yank had almost no effect, other than the sudden bite of steel rims into his wrists that made him shake--they were locked tight together.

"Roy," Dick's voice lengthened on the 'o', changing pitches to chide him, "Did you really think I'd be so careless?" He shuddered at that light tone--it'd always meant Dick at his most dangerous, most unpredictable, and that scared him more now than it ever had.

"I could hope," came out bitterly, savagely fast and without any impediment from his brain. The only response was a shake of Dick's head that he felt in the shift of his weight, then a long, caressing cup of Dick's hand that down his left side, from just below his arm down towards his hip, the touch blatantly possessive, everything he'd ever needed from his lover--and everything he didn't want now, not with Dick turned into this cold, dangerous stranger. He shifted, trying to get away from the touch, and Dick's hand just slid over the waist of his pants, fingers slipping along the curve of his hip--long, slow tease, something Dick'd always loved to do to him because of the way it made him move--and he shifted against the touch despite himself, hating himself for not being able to not react.

Dick's fingers suddenly left, the weight on his back shifted, vanished and relief warred with fear and panic for long heartbeats in the silence of the room, then hands were on his ankle, working at his boot to pull it off, then the other went, too, along with the socks, Dick's touch gentle as he slipped them away. //He's--// he couldn't even think it, just let the disgust and fear be enough, //and he's worried about my socks?! Of all the fucked up--//

Hands petted up his legs over the armor and he could feel Dick's body move, follow the hands that stroked up the backs of his thighs, over his ass and higher, up and in along the line of the pants--then things changed, Dick's knee settled against his ribs and hands slid hard under his chest and thighs, forearms flexing as if Dick was going to--

--lift him, he realized in utter disbelief. Strong as Dick was, he'd never been able to do that--//Sure as hell not this easy, he didn't even breathe hard!// The thought flashed through his mind as Dick stood, apparently easily, holding him tight as somehow Dick put him on his feet in the transition upwards, hand that had been under his thighs now curved around his right hip, hand under his chest holding him back against Dick's body, cold of the cuffs pressed hard into his spine and Dick's abs. The realization slammed into him suddenly. //He really did. He took the fucking serum, the supersoldier drug that made Slade... He's meta, now--god, is he still insane?// It was awful that the thought actually gave him some hope about this. If the drug was still messing with Dick's head, the choices weren't really his...

The hand on his hip slid in again, going without a trace of hesitation for the snap and zipper of the pants, popping the snap and pulling the zipper down slowly, teasingly, chin hooked over his shoulder and hot skin against his back as the hand on his chest petted its way own to hook in the left side of his waistband and he lost the struggle not to beg Dick to stop. "Dick, don't, I don't want--"

Dick's hand slid into the open pants, cupped around his already-erect cock through the briefs and stroked, cutting off his voice with a gasp and Roy shuddered as his body reacted, throbbing against that so-familiar touch. //Dick, damn it..//

"Yes, you do, Roy... you're mine, you know it, and you want me..." was whispered against his neck as Dick stroked him again, the aching perfection of that knowing caress marred by the situation, by that his lover would never ignore his request to stop. Dick kissed his throat gently, right where his collar ought to be, and both hands caught the waist of the pants and pushed down, taking the briefs with them. Dick then caught them with a foot and pulled them the rest of the way down. "Step out of them," came the command, and Roy hesitated a long moment, unwilling to help Dick r--force this.

"Stubborn son of a--" and Dick moved, coming to his side without ever breaking the press of their bodies and Roy saw all that black //shadow// danger from the corner of his eye as Dick moved again, hands impacting his body and Dick lifted him again and tossed him into the center of the bed, face landing in a pillow this time. He had just enough time to bend his knees a little before he hit, not liking the thought of landing flat, not considering how har--

He heard a soft, triumphant noise from the side of the bed and realized how that must look. He dropped flat on the bed and shuddered at the feel of cold duvet against hot skin, shifting as he felt Dick... flow, there was no other word for it, onto the bed and push the pants off his ankles--off the bed entirely, by the sound of armor hitting carpet--then shift up until he was laying against his side, hand stroking down his right arm possessively. "God, you look so good." That hand kept moving, caressing, and Roy shuddered.

The hunger in Dick's voice almost broke his resistance, might have if that thread of ice wasn't still there to remind him they were laying in a bed he'd never seen with the blood of their entire team shed between them, if Dick hadn't turned on everything they'd ever stood for and believed by binding himself to Slade fucking Wilson like this... He shuddered, pressing his cheek into the pillows and tried to make himself stop reacting to the touch of Dick's hands, to the hungry confidence in those hands--but as Dick petted over his body, caressed down his back, tried to rub the tension out of his bound shoulders... He couldn't help but react, couldn't help moving into the touches, biting his lip 'til it bled to keep from moaning, unwilling to give him that much satisfaction when this was so very wrong.... Dick left one hand lay on his shoulder as he moved again, leaning sideways to reach for the dresser--and the soft (familiar) clink of metal (rings) made him whimper softly. //no, dick please no, don't... please let me be wrong...//

"I just realized you're missing something," Dick said from beside him again as something light dropped out of a hand to land on the bed, changing the feel of it for a moment, and the breath froze in his throat //No...// before the leather even touched his throat--but it did. The silken feel of the kidskin lining sliding lightly over his neck was almost enough to bring him to tears--this stranger in his lover's body was going to taint even this, take the mark of his willing submission and turn it into an owner's brand… god, it hurt.

"Mine, Roy," the whisper was gentle, loving as he pulled the collar properly tight and locked it--//not quite right, doesn't fit right not Mine oh thank you gods// Dick's hands slid back down his body, casually possessive, and Roy tried not to shake. //NO. I'm not... I'm not...//

Dick kept caressing him, hands sliding all over his back, over the cuffs binding his arms over his spine, over his ass--there over and over again--long, strong fingers slipping down between his legs to stroke his balls and the base of his cock... He struggled not to buck into the touch that was still so perfect, still exactly the right pressure and grip to make him want to scream, set his breath to racing and lightening through his blood, and he heard Dick's voice say softly, 'That's right... that's right, my own, move for me, yes..."

The sound of Dick's pet name for him nearly broke him, more than the physical reaction to Dick's touch ever could--he'd had no chance against a Dick enhanced by the serum, and Dick knew his body and heart as intimately as was humanly possible, that Dick could make him react was no surprise, but--hearing that name now, from the killer laying beside him... He sobbed, shaking, and Dick's body and other arm wrapped around him, still wrapped in (death) black, voice in his ears, "Roy, it's all right, it's okay. You're safe, you're mine... You're mine, it's okay, you're okay..." Kisses feathered along the back of his neck as Dick pulled him closer, tighter, held him in arms that could now literally break him...

"No, I'm not... you're not my 'Wing, not anymore, and I don't--" he had to protest, take one last stab at stopping this with the only weapon he had against this stronger/faster/lethal version of his lover; his voice.

"You're right, I'm not. I'm better, and you're still mine. You belong with me, to me." Flat, calmly certain voice as he pulled away somewhat, sat back a little to slide his fingers over his entrance, rubbing gently--and Roy shuddered, shaking his head in violent negation, "Dick, please, talk to me first, make me understa--" he gave up the fight and begged, praying there was enough of his lover left to listen.

"I can't, you have to be mine, I can't protect you if you're not mine--"

The words would be so easy to say, he'd said them dozens of times... but they'd be a lie, and Dick had always know when he was lying... "I... please, Dick, do--" The end of the sentence was cut off by Dick's other hand over his mouth hard, muffling it into nothingness.

"I wish I could, my own, but you have to be mine..." The hand on his mouth slipped away and a moment later the 'pop' of a tube of slick opening hit his ears, made him shudder and try to get away--useless, but he couldn't just...

A single, slick finger slid into him, too gentle to be this much of a violation and he fought a sob again, feeling hot dampness under his cheeks as Dick's finger slid fully into him, hand rocking gently as he started to stretch him--and Roy thought it would be easier if Dick just took him, if he didn't have to feel the loving gentle possessiveness in every touch... but Dick was never the type to be less than thorough. His body clenched down against that finger, saying 'no' again that way, and Dick's other hand stroked over his shoulder gently while his finger shifted, rocking in an arch that slid over his prostate--and that made him gasp and buck and open up, hating himself for it, hands clenched into tight fists as Dick turned his own body against him.

"God, so good..." Dick whispered to him, pressed up against his hip and side as his hand moved again, and again, and another, well-slicked finger slid into him so fucking easily on the next push of Dick's hand--his body wanted this, wanted his lover back, wanted to feel Dick again and it wasn't listening to his heart anymore, not when Dick was teasing him with his fingers, making his hips buck and his breath catch and god, he was never going to stop hating himself but it felt so good...

He let his body rock against Dick's hand, felt Dick slide another finger into him, spreading him open wider, more than was really necessary, then Dick's hand slid away, leaving him empty and aching and so very relieved--until he heard the sound of buttons coming undone, felt the bed shift as Dick did something with the shirt, and it shifted again as the noise of the zipper was suddenly shockingly loud in the silence of the room, and again as Dick stretched out beside him again. He felt the touch of a kiss on his shoulder as the wet sound of Dick slicking himself made need and shame both boil in his heart, and shuddered as Dick moved again and he felt the pressure of Dick's knees against his inner thighs.. Then Dick started to push his legs apart with his knees, spreading him open as he knee-walked up the bed--familiar again, but Roy'd never tried so hard to fight that demand in his life. Just like everything else he'd tried to stop this, Dick ignored it, just upping the pressure until Roy couldn't help but spread--

"Good, my own..." he felt Dick's hands on the cuffs, then, felt and heard the click as he released one wrist and pushed it up towards the pillows //wha?// Then the question was answered as another click locked something to the cuff. He pulled against it, and felt the yank of a tether--//probably to the headboard//--then Dick was moving his other hand. Another click and he was chained down to the headboard-and it was chain--held spread-eagled by Dick's body between his legs... and he hated the surge of lust that brought, the way this was playing to his kinks, how it could have been so different and so good if onl--

Dick's weight was suddenly heavy on his shoulders, one hand stroking his side, the other--was guiding his cock as Dick rolled his hips to push into him and Roy clawed at the sheets as Dick proved his possession, held him face-down in the bed and slid hilt-deep in one long push. //How can this feel so good and so wrong? he wondered as Dick gasped against his neck and rolled his hips, moving long and slow and deep--his own body betraying him, still moving with his lover's touch...

Dick was talking to him, saying something he could hardly hear past the blood in his ears, but, it was... "I love you. ...I love you... I love you..." every time his hips pressed fully against his ass, broken by the slow pace and the kisses Dick was pressing to his neck with every move--and it made him want to scream, sob, break... Words he'd treasured more than anything because of their rarity and now they fell so easily?

He heard himself cry, gasping wracking sob that shook his entire body and both of Dick's arms curled around him tight, lifting him back against that so-strong known body, voice in his ear again, "Shh, shh, it's all right, I love you I've got you I'm not letting go, it's going to be all right..."

Those words, that promise, everything all he'd ever wanted, someone that was going to stay said all the desperate love and possession in Dick's voice--Roy shuddered with sobs for another breath, and another, feeling part of himself die as he just.. gave up… "Then fuck me, Sir..." //Love me hard enough I forget what you did, please...//

That last word echoed aloud without his consent, and he heard his master's voice ring with triumph as he spoke, "Since you asked so nicely..." and Dick's hands slid off his body to brace under him on the bed, "up on your knees, my own…"

Dick's weight changed to let him slide up onto his knees, changing positions without ever sliding out of him, and Roy wrapped his hands around the chains as he braced under him, hips rolling back against Dick hungrily, needing him so badly it burned through his veins. He tossed his head, wiping the ears away on the pillow--and felt the bite of the collar against his throat with a shock that ran straight to his cock as it reminded him whose he was. He shuddered, and Dick's hips rocked hard into him, deep and sure and faster and harder, perfect pace to drive the thoughts from his mind--

--and it didn't take long at all before he was begging, chains cutting imprints into his hands as he begged Dick to let him come, begged for more.

A hand--left--slid under his body, wrapped around the aching length of his cock and squeezed, "Say it."

"Say wha--"

"Say it, you know what I want to hear."

He did, suddenly, and he shuddered as he said it, "I'm yours. I'm yours, Sir, Dick, I'm yours, please, please..."

"Come for me, my own," Dick said as he stroked his thumb over the slit and rolled his hips hard, driving his length into his sweet spot and he heard himself scream as he lost it, bucking hard and erratic into Dick's hand mindlessly, all thought gone...

…until he realized he was laying down again--//in the wet,//--Dick's hot, sweat-slick body draped over him like a warm, living blanket as his lover panted for air and held him close. He could feel the jackhammer rate of Dick's pulse in the cock still buried inside him and he moaned softly... it took a minute to realize that Dick must have come with him or he wouldn't be so out of control, and that pleased him, made him half-smile against the pillow and lie still. Dick wasn't that heavy--and he really had no reason in the world to move... //What about your daughter?// a voice whispered from the back of his mind and he froze, suddenly terrified--and Dick's voice was in his ears in less than a heartbeat.

"What, Roy, what is it, what's wrong my own?" The sudden, honest concern was like balm to his soul and he answered quickly.

"Lian... is she--"

Dick stroked a shoulder and he felt a smile against the other one, "She's fine, Roy. Rose went to get her, she's perfectly safe. No-one's going to hurt her, not when it would mean angering all of us--and Slade promised. You know how much he hates Chesh--did you really think I'd let anything happen to her?"

Sudden anger flared deep in his heart but he shoved it down, back, refusing to let it surface, and he shook his head. "I, no, but... I'm her father..."

"A good one, too. She's fine. Rose will protect her."

Roy let himself relax at that promise. The girl was talented, and if Slade had given his word... "Dick... you said I was your price, but how..."

He heard his lover sigh softly, felt the caress of his hand over his hair, "Slade... can be reasoned with, if you know how. I do. I just had to prove you were mine, and you're safe. He protects his family, after all. You know that."

Dick slowly moved, hissing as he pulled away, then gentle hands twisted the locks of the cuffs open and Dick lay back down, gathering him against his body and pulling him out of the wet spot. Roy curled close, basking in the contract, in the long, slow caresses down his back as he watched Dick's jaw, slowly cooling down. He wanted desperately to ask "why me, why not Kory"?--but at the same time, he already had the only answer he would likely get. He belonged to Dick, in ways the fiery Tamaranian never could--//never would (shut up!)//

He lay against him, almost cooled off enough to want to slide under the covers--and Dick twisted to lift them, slithering under them and holding them up. Roy slid in and pressed up against him again, catching himself yawning... He glanced up at Dick, who smiled at him indulgently, "Go to sleep, Roy. If I'm not here, don't worry. Slade might need me, but I'll be back."

"Wake me when Lian gets here?"

"Sure. She'll want to see you." Dick's hand stroked over his hair gently, and Roy just cuddled against him, knee over Dick's legs and palm against his heart, letting the strong, steady beat of his heart lull him into sleep.

***

Halfway across the house, in the suite of computers that ran and observed the mansion and its grounds, Slade smiled to himself in complete and utter satisfaction, watching his boy gentle his pet into sleep. "Masterfully done, my boy. Masterfully done."

Watching his boy dominate, possess, and finally break the stubborn redhead had been amazing, perfect proof that his chosen was his--he couldn't have done it better himself, after all.

"I'll have to make sure you don't get too cocky about this, but you deserve a little time of your own..." With that, he saved the hour-odd of video, then cleared the feed. If Dick wanted it, it was there, but his curious daughter didn't need to see that. Finished, he checked the perimeter out of habit, and went to wait for his daughter and the newest member of his small family.

The end.


*considers hiding in fallout shelter over this*