
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11397087.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Batman_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Dick_Grayson/Damian_Wayne, Owlman/Talon_(DCU), Dick_Grayson/Thomas_Wayne
      Jr., Thomas_Wayne_Jr./Damian_Wayne, Thomas_Wayne_Jr._(Earth-3)/Richard
      Grayson_(Earth-3)/Dick_Grayson/Damian_Wayne, Richard_Grayson_(Earth-3)/
      Damian_Wayne, Owlman/Talon/Nightwing/Robin
  Character:
      Dick_Grayson, Damian_Wayne, Owlman, Thomas_Wayne_Jr., Richard_Grayson_
      (Earth-3), Talon, Alexander_Luthor_(Earth-3), Mazahs_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Rough_Sex,
      Choking, Rough_Oral_Sex, Deepthroating, Anal_Sex, Anal_Fingering,
      Comeplay, Come_Eating, Humiliation, Aphrodisiacs, Drug-Induced_Sex,
      Needles, Foursome_-_M/M/M/M, Light_Bondage, Sex_Toys, Vibrators, Underage
      Sex, Abusive_Relationships, Domestic_Violence, Canon-Typical_Violence,
      Guilt
  Series:
      Part 2 of Prey
  Collections:
      Bat_Babes
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-04 Words: 10790
****** Decoy ******
by lacemonster
Summary
     Sequel to "Prey".
     Owlman and Talon have taken over Wayne manor. Talon has captured
     Nightwing and Robin but Batman remains on the loose. Owlman is
     determined to catch him--but Talon thinks he could afford to spend a
     little more time at home, especially with their captured birds.
Notes
     CONTENT WARNING. This story contains non-con, incest, abuse, and
     underage elements. I've done my best to add all the tags but I'm not
     perfect. Please don't read this if you're feeling unsure about the
     tags.
     So this is a follow-up to my story "Prey". In the end, it's just
     really gross smut, so you don't really need to read the first story
     to understand this one.
     I plan to make this a trilogy. As such, the first scene is some very
     small plot stuff (lol, plot) to bridge the all three stories. If
     you're just here for the porn, you can probably skip the first scene
     entirely. The first scene adds to some of the elements of this story
     but it's not completely necessary to read.
     I posted and edited this at 3 in the morning so I apologize if there
     are any glaring mistakes. I may read over it once more when my brain
     is functioning and update it. But I've been working on it for awhile
     and I feel more anxious not posting it, so here I am submitting it
     and getting it out of the way.
See the end of the work for more notes
 
The front doors opened, revealing a red-haired man in its path. He quietly shut
the door behind him, moving further into Wayne manor. He paused in the parlor,
coming across a series of crudely wired steel monitors in the middle of an
otherwise luxuriously furnished room.
The monitors revealed different images of the estates. One screen in particular
caught the man’s eye—and he moved in closer to get a better look.
His stalker leaned against the doorway to the parlor, watching him carefully.
“Hello, Mazahs. Are you here to crash the party as usual?” Talon said bluntly.
There was a pause in Alexander’s movements—and Richard took some pride in
knowing that even after all the powers Luthor absorbed, he could still catch
him offguard.
Alexander turned around, hands up in surrender. One of his hands held a case.
“I'm just here to drop off some information.”
“You mean you want to get a good look at the manor, for when you decide to turn
traitor again,” Richard said drolly. Still, he nodded towards the nearest
table. “Set it over there.”
Alexander didn't move, not right away. His eyes still lingered on the monitor
he had been so invested in.
“So it's true. You do have people holed up in this place.”
At that, Richard couldn't help but feel amused. He pushed himself off the wall,
moving closer. Wanting to sneak a peek at them for himself. He did enjoy
watching them. “Owlman likes to call them hostages. I like to call them pets.”
“Fun, fun. You picked yourself up some friends. I always thought you could use
some more,” Alexander said dryly, and he walked away from the monitor without
so much as a second glance.
Richard, ever the showoff, felt annoyed by Alexander’s apathy. He couldn't
resist glaring into the man’s back, eyes following him as he idly wandered
toward the table. Alexander picked up the nearest trinket set on the
surface—some old, empty vase—seeming bored.
“Those ‘friends’ happen to be Batman’s allies. The little one is Batman’s son.”
Tired of Alexander looking at nothing when he should have been facing Richard,
the acrobat swiftly climbed on top of the table, forcing Alexander’s gaze upon
him. Smirking, Richard added, “I imagine Batman’s kin will make for some pretty
good bargaining chips. Don't you agree?”
Alexander considered him for a moment. His face broke out into a smile but
Richard could sense the underlying annoyance in his gaze. It didn't scare him,
even though Alexander had every means to kill him. Richard wasn't half as
strong as any members of the Crime Syndicate—but killing Richard meant pissing
off Thomas. Besides, Richard liked to believe all of his years of knowing the
Crime Syndicate had earned him a sort of safety. The Crime Syndicate didn't
love him, no, and they certainly didn't trust him, but they could tolerate him.
They could even have some affection towards him.
Indeed, Alexander patted Richard on the cheek. The same as he did when Richard
was a child—before he turned traitor, that is. And Richard blinked, not sure
what to make of the action that was almost condescending.
Alexander leaned in, his smile wide—and ingenuine. “But they're still not
Batman, are they?”
Richard steeled himself. Coolly, he responded, “Weren't you the one bragging
about how you'd have Superman in your clutches in an instant?”
Alexander frowned.
“Owlman and I have our plans,” Richard said dismissively. He stretched his arms
over his head. He caught Alexander eyeing him closely and he sighed extra
softly when he finally lowered his arms. “I wouldn't expect you to get it.”
Alexander didn't bother with the false pretenses any longer. He spat in a harsh
voice, “You don't even know where Owlman is.”
“I don't have to,” the acrobat replied, drawing his knees to his chest. “He
doesn't need to tell me where he goes.”
“He doesn't want to tell you where he goes. You don't matter to him—not
anymore.”
Alexander was off his rocker. Per usual. But there was a chord that struck.
Owlman had been less communicative lately. “What's that supposed to be mean?”
Alexander shrugged, trying to look casual. “I mean, you were just a replacement
for his brother. In the beginning, he killed his brother, and then he took you
in: a boy, black haired and blue eyed, and the same age that Bruce Wayne was
when he was killed alongside his parents that day. But since in this world,
Bruce Wayne is alive… well, I guess that means good ol’ Tom has no need for you
anymore, does he?”
Richard said nothing, his gaze dark. But Alexander wasn't the least bit
afraid—he just gave a chipper smile and finally set down the case right next to
Richard. The steel case made a dull thud as it was set down.
Richard wanted nothing more than to slit Alexander’s throat but he just
clenched his fists by his side, instead. If he was going to attack… then he
needed to do it where Alexander couldn't call for a bolt of lightning to strike
them both and burn the damn house down.
“Well, I'm off,” Alexander said, heading for the door. But not without adding,
“But do let me know when you see Thomas—assuming you see him first.”
Richard’s narrowed eyes followed him. Unable to keep his mouth shut, he called
after him, “I can't wait for your little hellspawn to be born. Then you can go
back to playing ‘hero’ and Ultraman will finally kill you. But don't worry—your
little one will always be accepted in the parliament.”
Alexander paused in his footsteps.
Richard waited for the bolt of lightning.
He smirked in smug satisfaction when it didn't come.
 
Thomas hadn't taken the time to explore the manor. When he wasn't roaming
Gotham in search of Batman, he spent most of the time in the batcave, trying to
find any clues as to where he could have gone. After a long search he returned
to the estates and found himself wandering.
Hanging above the fireplace was an almost familiar family portrait, but it was
missing an important component. Thomas gazed at his parents’ faces and found
himself grimacing. Just looking at them brought back memories of his cowardly,
sniveling father and his entitled, nagging mother.
“Disgusting,” he grumbled to himself. If the fireplace was lit, he would have
tossed the painting into the flames, just like he had done on his planet after
he disposed of his kin. Batman’s whole house was overflowing in
sentimentalities. Useless trinkets and photos and heirlooms.
It was no wonder Thomas never stopped by.
He walked toward the monitor. Found that his captives were still rightly
imprisoned. He paused at the screen, watching the mirrored Richard Grayson
huddling the little one close in his arms. The same feeling of revulsion rose
up Thomas’ chest. This Earth was so weak. Coddling children—old enough to walk
and fight—like they would an infant who was too useless to care for itself.
Despite his disgust, Thomas’ gaze lingered on the boy’s face, which was
partially shadowed in the dim lighting. The boy was dark-skinned and his eyes
narrowed—but the similarities he did have with his sire were remarkably close
in other ways. Their face shape was nearly identical to what Thomas remembered
of his little brother—right before he shot him dead in that alley all those
years ago.
“Richard,” Thomas called out to the vast manor. He was greeted with silence.
Either his boy had dismissed his duties or he was playing games. The former was
very possible. Talon had very little loyalty—his obedience could only be bought
with lots of attention or discipline, and Thomas had been absent for what might
have been too long.
But if he was playing games, Thomas had an idea of where to find him.
He moved upstairs, toward the master bedroom. The layout of the house remained
the same as his had been. And whenever Thomas was in doubt, he could always
find Richard in his bed.
He pushed the door open. Thomas’ gaze settled on the wide bed, eyes fixated on
the naked body before him, before travelling up to a pair of mischievous blue
eyes.
“What took you so long?”
Thomas gave Richard one measured look before moving further into the bedroom,
pulling off his cowl.
“You're supposed to be watching the prisoners. You know they're touching each
other, right?”
Richard’s eyes followed him closely as he crossed the room. “They can't escape.
They're chained and the room is fortified.”
“It doesn't matter,” Thomas said coolly. He moved to the dresser, began to pull
at his uniform. Each piece of armor landed on the surface with a thud. “I gave
you an order. We may need them if we want Batman.”
“So you haven't found him yet,” Richard said, his voice a touch more quiet.
Disobeying an order was nothing new with Richard. Thomas could ignore that,
depending on the circumstances.
But insulting him was an unforgivable offense.
The rage pushed through Thomas’ chest in an instant, fiery hot. Blood boiling,
he quickly turned toward the acrobat, hand on his throat in an instant, pushing
him back onto the bed. He crawled over him, knees sinking into the mattress,
his weight pushing his hand harder against the younger’s throat. Enough to make
him choke, gasp. Widened eyes looked back up at him, without their usual glint.
He knew he had every right to kill Richard then and there. His life was his to
own.
Thomas lessened his grip anyways. There was a stirring in Richard’s gaze, at
first what seemed to be relief, but then more characteristically, transformed
into something else. Thomas felt a hand running up his underarmor, feeling his
stomach.
Thomas tensed beneath the touch. Still mad, furious even. But working with
Richard was always like walking on a balance. The boy needed the drive in order
to keep walking. He wasn't like the rest of the Crime Syndicate, where everyone
pushed and pulled until they got their way. Richard was perfectly willing to
cross the line, to submit, so long as it satisfied him in the end.
Thomas supposed that the boy never demanded much.
Thomas grabbed the hand roaming his body, his grip less than gentle, and pinned
it against the mattress. With his free hand, he pulled down his pants, past his
balls, revealing his semi-hard erection. Richard glanced at it.
He grabbed Richard by the chin, forcing his gaze upward. The boy looked almost
pathetic, face smushed by his hand, waiting instead of acting.
“You want it so bad, don't you?” Thomas said, voice lowering. “You play so
proud when you're angry but really, all you want is to get on your knees for
me. You've been begging for my cock since you were ten.”
Richard groaned lightly, and Thomas couldn't tell if it was because of how
tightly he was holding his face, or if it was the way he was talking.
It didn't matter if he liked it or if he was in pain. Thomas liked having his
prodigee pinned underneath him and disgraced—no matter how easy or difficult it
was to do. The complete sense of control fuelled the heat in his body. Started
making him hot and hard even before the part where he had the boy’s hand or
mouth on his dick.
Thomas got on his knees, straightening his back and pulling off his shirt. He
tossed it aside, glanced down at where Richard’s legs were spread on either
side of him. He wet two of his fingers in his mouth, not out of mercy but
simply because he preferred Richard wet, and pressed in.
It had been too long, Thomas realized. His partner practically clung to his
fingers, so hot and tight. Richard even seemed to flinch in response.
“I'm surprised you're so tight,” Thomas said, without any kindness. “Thought
for sure you'd be crawling on your knees for my colleagues by now. That or any
weak earthling with a cock hanging between their legs.” His fingers pushed in
deep. Down to the knuckle. Richard's body tensed up, his jaw clenching. In a
low voice, he murmured, “You'd let them ravage you, fuck you wide open.
Anything to fill you up. It's your weakness.”
No argument, just a low groan as Thomas thrusted his fingers in at a quick
pace. Richard tried to look proud but there was no denying the flush on his
skin. It was strange how much the thought of Thomas’ own words seemed to work
him up. Normally the boy would be egging him on.
“I could hand you off to Ultraman—but he wouldn't be gentle. He'd split you in
half.” Thomas could feel the anger rising in his chest, the blood boiling. “A
worthy punishment for your lack of loyalty, perhaps. But you'd probably enjoy
it too much.”
He crooked his fingers. He always knew where Richard’s prostate was—he just
never paid much attention to it. But he was in a bad mood and he'd do anything
he could to take advantage of someone else to make him feel better.
Richard’s response, a soft moan, satisfied him.
“Answer me already,” Thomas breathed. He expected a little more banter than
this. He continued to tease the spot. “Is that what you want, Ultraman’s
Kryptonian cock ripping you open?”
Thomas ran his free hand down the acrobat’s sensitive, inner thigh—just to
watch him squirm. The hand moved further still, finally resting on a knee.
Thomas tilted his head, gazing at the faint mark on Richard’s skin.
Thomas’ gaze lowered, the thumb brushing over the scar. Richard shuddered in
response at the touch, eyes coming to a close.
“Come on,” Richard breathed, finally breaking his silence. “Are we going to do
this or are you going to make me wait?”
Thomas’ hand wrapped around Richard’s knee, pushing his legs apart. He withdrew
the fingers, the tip of his erection lining with Richard’s entrance. At that,
Richard seemed to tense in anticipation—and that’s when Thomas gripped hard,
hard enough to where his hand ached and Richard gasped. Richard immediately
grabbed his forearm, startled.
“What are you doing? That hurts—”
Thomas’ eyes narrowed in response to that. At that, Richard looked almost
startled—realizing a second too late that he said something wrong.
Thomas already had the answer he was looking for—but he pried anyways, asking,
“How’d the cut on your knee happen? It wasn’t there before.”
“It’s been there for awhile—”the response was quick, startled, and his
following words felt almost like an afterthought, “You would know if you had
been around—”
“The placement and the precision indicates otherwise. This is a surgical scar.”
In a lower voice, Thomas murmured, “If your knee had needed repair, I would
have handled it myself.”
“It's just a scratch—”he said, words strained underneath the pain of Thomas’
unrelenting grip. His sentence was cut off by a pained groan.
“If you have medical troubles, you come to me. I can open you up myself.” Voice
lowering, almost to a growl, “Lungs. Heart. Spine. I take care of you.”
“Stop, you're going to break it—”
“Who did your surgery, hm? Not the knee. Your face.”
“What are you talking about?” Richard said with a sharp gasp. He was
practically writhing now, hands reaching to shove him off but then choosing
against it.
Still trying to play in-character when the real Richard would easily be begging
for more pain. The pretender couldn't even stand to fake an erection.
“Your imitation is remarkable. Your appearance almost had me fooled.”
“Please,” he said, and Thomas almost questioned his own judgment, because
please was slightly more familiar. Still, the realization dawned on Thomas, and
the Richard before him—Dick, as he went by—continued on, “He set me up for it.
I had no choice.”
“Who set you up?”
Talon. He knew even before Batman’s boy looked up at him.
“He's going to kill him,” Dick said.
For fuck’s sake.
Thomas was up in an instant, grabbing Dick roughly by the arm. Dragging him off
the mattress to his feet, where he stumbled like a goddamned child trying to
keep up.
“Where are you taking me?” he said, and Thomas could see the way he struggled
to resist prying Thomas’ vicelike grip off his arm. The way he tried to bear
the pain in fear of making the situation worse. It made Thomas want to snap his
arm altogether.
“I’m throwing you back in your cell.”
“He’ll know. He said he'd kill him if I failed—please, they're in my old
bedroom, the room at the end of the hall—”
Richard's bedroom too, oddly enough. Thomas thought back on the feed on the
monitor, the image of his nephew being held in the prison, and realized too
late that it was probably old footage. Thomas dragged Dick along with him down
the hall after all, slamming open the door where it rattled off the wall with a
bang.
Richard—his Richard, this time—looked up at him.
“Good evening, Doctor Wayne,” he said, voice humming. But his gaze seemed more
invested in Dick.
Dick stopped struggling in Thomas’ grip long enough to look up at Talon. His
stomach turned when he saw the needle in his parallel self’s hand, the tip
perfectly positioned at Damian’s neck. His throat tightened at the rest of the
sight—the boy, naked and blindfolded, strung up by cuffs to the top of the
closet door. There was a light buzzing sound that filled the silence of the
room, and it didn't take a genius to understand what the harness wrapped around
Damian’s hips was keeping locked in place. Dick could see Damian’s toes, just
barely touching the carpet, struggling to keep his balance as the vibrator
continued to work inside of him.
“What's the meaning of this?” Thomas demanded.
“You've been working so hard lately that I thought you, me, and our little
caged birds could have some fun,” Talon said, resting his head against
Damian’s. Damian, blinded, seemed startled by the touch—flinching in
response—but Talon’s free hand was wrapped around Damian’s cheek, keeping the
boy’s head in place. Damian did seem to be aware of the threat poised at his
throat, subtly craning his neck to avoid the needle. “Also, I went rummaging
through your lab. I hope you don't mind.”
“Enough foolish games. Both Nightwing and Robin should be locked up in their
cell, as I ordered, not strewn around like a bunch of your toys.”
“But isn't that such a shame? Capturing these two was part of your plan to get
to Batman. Wasn't that the whole point? To be reunited with Brucie again so we
could all be one happy parliament?” Talon’s singsong voice lessened when his
gaze suddenly darkened. Dick watched carefully, not trusting the look in his
mirrored self’s eyes, his heart thumping against his chest. His parallel seemed
more unhinged than usual. Voice low, nails digging into Damian’s cheek, Talon
murmured, “So don't you think you should spend some quality time with your
nephew?”
“Killing him now will ruin everything we worked for. If you tarnish my plans
then you'll spend the last, very few, moments of your life deeply regretting
it.”
At that, something in Talon’s eyes flickered.
Suddenly the needle pressed in.
Damian’s whole body tensed up, his lips parting in a gasp. Dick’s heart leapt
forward.
“No!” he said, yanking his arm from Thomas with sudden strength, trying to move
toward Damian. He didn't make it far when something—Thomas’ kick, he
realized—struck him in the back of his knee, causing him to stumble.
He was pushed down hard, bare knees hitting the carpet and upper half pinned
against the bed he landed beside. He struggled to look up, his dark bangs
interfering with his vision. He saw Damian’s lolled head and slouched body.
Then he saw movement. Damian’s body rising and falling with breath.
Dick let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding in. It was hardly
relief, his heart was still racing with adrenaline, drumming against his chest.
“Don't worry. It was just an aphrodisiac,” Talon said lightly. “He's so tiny I
could just snap his neck if I really wanted to kill him.”
“I can't get through a single week without you threatening to ruin my plans,”
Thomas said with a growl, his chest rumbling against Dick’s back. Dick gritted
his teeth, body beginning to ache at the amount of pressure Thomas was putting
on him. His breath felt squeezed inside his chest. “This is obviously some
childish cry for attention.”
“Are you a psychologist now too, Doctor?”
Suddenly, Dick felt Thomas lifting himself off—not completely, but enough to
relieve the weight. Enough to breathe again.
“In this scenario, I could either kill you or indulge in your games. If I
killed you, there'd be no one to watch the prisoners.” Almost reluctantly,
Thomas added, “And your games, while petty, are rather harmless.”
“Enough with the act. There's only one reason to be so stiff at home,” Talon
said, and even at Dick’s angle, he could catch the growing smirk on Talon’s
face. “Admit it, you can't wait to get your hands on two of me.”
There was a pause as the two stared each other down, Dick caught in the middle.
Dick could feel and hear Thomas shuffling behind him. His mind immediately went
back to the bedroom, where Talon had instructed Dick to seduce this man—before
his stupid scar ruined the act—and he remembered seeing Thomas’ erection, so
thick and hard. And his demeanor, unkind and impatient. His stomach began to
twist.
He wasn't nervous because he already knew what was coming. And he already knew
it was going to hurt.
What disgusted him was that there was no way out of this.
Talon seemed satisfied by Thomas’ cooperation. His eyes dark and lusty. But he
backed away, returning to the naked boy still strung on the closet door. Every
step he took closer to Damian, the harder it was for Dick to stay still
underneath Thomas’ hold.
On a nearby dresser was a bag. Talon reached in...
Dick didn't see much else. He was distracted when rough callused hands began to
roam his body. Large hands running down his back, along the sensitive spine,
and Dick clenched his jaw. Trying not to react as Thomas’ hands touched his
skin.
The touch was so light it was almost teasing, making it that much harder for
Dick to control himself. He shuddered when his ass was grabbed and lifted.
“Needy one,” Thomas murmured, his voice condescending. Dick felt a low flush of
embarrassment warm his body. He couldn't help but react to Thomas’ touch, Dick
knew that. Talon had him so well trained to a man’s touch at this point. But he
was ashamed that the cruel man’s caresses went to his head this easily.
A hand stroked down the crease of his ass, over his entrance and down to his
scrotum. Dick steeled himself, trying not to react. Trying to stay composed
with as much dignity as possible. But the light, almost teasing, hand over his
most sensitive areas made Dick feel so vulnerable.
Thomas spit on Dick, the sound crude. It landed over his hole, the saliva cool.
The feeling made Dick tremble, his knees still spread apart on the unforgiving
floor. His hands, finding purchase on the sheets, grabbed on as he willed
himself to not focus on the sensations. A wet thumb pushed in.
Dick heard a sudden buzz, drawing his head upwards. In Talon’s hands was a
massager—a long wand with a round, vibrating head. Dick’s eyes followed the
wand to the cord attached. Dick wondered about its purpose but it all soon made
sense.
“Bite,” Talon ordered, placing the cord to Damian’s lips. Damian didn’t
respond, seemed to be short of breath. The drugs must have been taking effect
already—Damian's skin was flushed, his cock standing, his nipples erect, as he
squirmed against the vibrating plug inside of him uncomfortably. When Damian
failed to follow his orders, Talon forcefully pried Damian’s lips open for him.
Talon added in a low voice, “Don’t you dare let go—or I’ll have to give you
another shot.”
Talon turned on the wand’s settings, letting it drop. Damian jolted in place as
the object vibrated against his thigh, rolling over the limb until it finally
settled in the crook between his legs. He made a soft, almost forlorn noise as
the vibrating head—adjusted to the length of the cord he held in his
teeth—aligned with his cock. He squirmed in place, seeming torn between craning
his body away from the wand or towards it. But as ordered, he didn’t dare drop
it.
Talon walked towards the bed, his form blocking Dick’s view of Damian, though
the soft moans and buzzing still filled his ears. Talon kneeled on the bed
before Dick, one hand pulling up the hem of his top, the other lowering his
waistband below his already stiff erection. Dick wasn’t surprised that he was
hard—he ruefully suspected that Talon had been getting off to this game for
awhile now.
Talon stroked his cock, an air of showmanship to his movements, his eyes all on
Thomas.
“How far did you get before finding out who he was? Have you used his mouth
yet?”
Thomas’ thumb was replaced by two fingers. Everything about Thomas seemed
massive, even right down to his hands. Dick held his breath, already beginning
to feel the stretch just from Thomas’s digits. Dick tried to remember to relax.
Talon’s hand brushed the hair out of Dick’s face. He kept pushing on his head,
forcing his head back. Dick looked up at him, swallowing. He hated looking at
Talon. Hated it to the point where he couldn't even stand to see his own
reflection anymore. His fist tightened around the sheets.
“Look at him. I think he's rather handsome, don't you?” Talon said with a
wicked grin, thumb running across Dick’s skin.
Thomas’ fingers were removed. Dick could hear the man back up a step.
“Turn around.”
Dick did as ordered. He looked at Thomas—and strangely, his nerves suddenly
came back. Talon he had grown used to, but Owlman was a whole new player. They
had only met once before, very briefly. There was something about his cold,
unforgiving demeanor that instilled a fear inside Dick. A fear that Dick could
only imagine as being similar to the power that Batman had over his enemies.
In as many ways that Dick and Talon had their similarities, so did Thomas and
Bruce. There was something just as naturally commanding about Thomas’ presence.
But the difference was that Thomas was his enemy, not his friend.
But Dick didn't want to compare the two, even as icy blue eyes looked down at
him.
His one relief in this situation was that Damian was blinded and far away,
though he knew from experience that Talon would eventually change that. It was
humiliating to be compliant to their whims but his fear made him willing to
submit. He moved to pick himself up onto the bed—but Thomas seemed to disagree
with that. He roughly pushed down on Dick’s shoulders, forcing his knees to
collide back with the carpet. Thomas stepped forward and Dick found himself
trapped between the bed and Thomas’ thighs. His upper back was pressed against
the mattress, sheets smoothed against his skin, as Thomas moved forward.
Dick diverted his eyes, heat rushing to his face, as Thomas’ hard cock was
directly in front of his face. The head rubbing up against his cheek.
“Isn't this part of your game?” Thomas said, staring down at Dick. “Isn't this
what you wanted?”
It wasn't. It was all just Talon’s plot. Dick only wanted to protect Damian
from Talon, but even after all that, Talon’s threat turned out to be just
another lie.
“Suck on it.”
Dick didn't dare to hesitate. Pinned up against the bed, there was no room for
Dick’s arms. He craned his neck, his lips mouthing against Thomas’ cock,
awkwardly fumbling to lower the tip into his mouth.
When Dick finally wrapped his lips around the head, Thomas made a low,
satisfied hum. Dick closed his eyes, tried not to focus on who he was sucking.
Tried not to listen to his voice. Tried to focus his mind elsewhere instead.
Then suddenly, Dick found his head being pushed back into the mattress, the
cock in his mouth suddenly sliding deeper—too deep—inside. Dick’s eyes snapped
open, watching up close as Thomas climbed up on the bed, his knees on the
mattress on either side of Dick’s head. The position forced Dick’s head to
crane back, the cock deep inside his mouth.
Deep enough to choke, which Dick did.
Thomas’ cock was thick and the corners of Dick’s lips were already aching to
accommodate him. Without so much as a warning to go with the new position,
panic immediately spread through Dick’s body. He struggled to remember how to
breathe through his nose, the sounds of his breathing more akin to
hyperventilating.
“Choke on it.”
He didn't have to be told. He was already there. He was vaguely aware,
somewhere in the haze clouding his mind, of the sounds he was making as Thomas
gagged him. The crude, pathetic sounds were disgusting and humiliating—but Dick
hardly had any pride left since being taken captive, much less at this moment
where he was getting lightheaded and fearful. At this point he was just
struggling to stay afloat, hands blindly pulling at the carpet as he tried to
control himself.
The mattress sunk deeper around Dick as Thomas leaned more of his weight on his
knees. Cock pushing into Dick, his throat beginning to burn as he gagged, his
eyes wet with hot tears that leaked from the corners of his eyes towards his
temples, his jaw aching to accommodate Thomas’ girth.
“You wanted this so bad,” Thomas breathed, a hint of a growl to his breath. “So
take it.”
Dick couldn't breathe. His mind was racing but he was certain of that one
thought. Can't breathe, can't can't can't. He was sucking air in through his
nostrils but he couldn't breathe.
The mattress creaked around him, sheets wrinkling, as Thomas face fucked him.
Every withdrawal dragged across Dick’s throat uncomfortably, followed by a
microsecond of relief when Dick could finally swallow—right before Thomas
thrusted in all over again. And again. And again.
Dick couldn't see. His face was wet and his mouth was stretched and his throat
was being fucked and he couldn't breathe. He could vaguely hear sounds above
him—Thomas’ heated grunts, the wet sounds of his own lips and throat as he was
violated, Talon’s sighs as he no doubt pleasured himself to the image of
himself choking on Thomas’ cock, as well as fainter sounds in the distance.
Sounds almost pained.
Damian was still there. Somewhere. Drugged and tied up with zero clue as to
what was happening.
Dick could feel heat begin to prickle on his skin, his vision begin to blur.
All he could breathe, see, smell, taste, was Thomas’ flesh.
Thomas’ hand gripped suddenly in his hair, angling his head a little more,
dragging his lips across the surface. Using Dick’s mouth as a sleeve rather
than letting Dick suck him as ordered.
The bed creaked as Thomas finally lifted himself out, cock pulling out
completely. Dick fell forward, coughing for air. But there was no mercy to
Owlman. The man roughly pulled on Dick’s arm, dragging him up onto the bed
where he all but fell apart on the mattress. He stopped coughing but it all
hurt. His throat and chest felt like it was on fire.
His shoulder was pushed toward the bed, his front flush against the mattress.
Thomas got on the bed behind him. Dick, exhausted, lifted himself up—to get
away, or to present himself, he wasn't even sure. But just as easily, a hand
pressed down between his shoulder blades. Forcing him back down.
Thomas’ weight was on top of him, sinking him into the mattress. Dick felt
hands on his face—Talon’s, he knew it instantly—wiping away the tears that had
collected on his face while he had gagged. It might have been comforting if
they were anyone else’s hands.
He could feel Thomas’ heavy cock against the crease of his ass. Felt the entire
length of it dragging across his entrance—before he felt it finally push in.
Dick tried to remember to breathe but everything inside his chest felt so sore
with every inhale. Dick had taken worse—but his body was still barely prepped,
and getting just the head in was a rough process. He struggled to take Thomas’
length. The man’s cock was forcing its way in, inch by inch, Dick’s hole
opening up around him.
It took so much effort just to receive him. Friction and heat, thrust by thrust
just to bury only a little deeper inside each time. Groans were pulled between
Dick’s clenched teeth. His body was already hot and he could feel sweat begin
to gather at his hairline. Fuck, he was too big. He was too big.
He heard a low groan above him and suddenly Thomas was pushing into him all at
once with one final thrust. Dick gritted his teeth, hands twisting at the
sheets. Thomas’s cock filled him completely, hot and thick. Dick’s breath was
short, body trembling as he was stuffed wide.
Just as soon as he began to relax, he felt a strong hand in his hair, turning
his head towards Talon.
Talon was fully erect, his manhood close to Dick’s face.
“Come on,” Thomas said impatiently,  his hand twisting through the strands of
hair, and Dick complied. He swallowed Talon’s cock, heard an almost happy sigh
above him. Thomas pushed him further down, impossibly deep. Talon was in Dick’s
throat and Dick, already sore, could feel the burn on his skin and throat.
He wished this would just end already.
But Thomas guided Dick’s head along the erection, rather than choking him, and
Dick supposed he should be relieved of that much.
“Ah, yes,” Talon said, as Thomas forcefully bobbed his head. When Thomas’ hands
lifted from Dick’s head and toward the acrobat’s hips instead, to angle him up
and bury his cock impossibly deeper into his ass, Dick groaned with Talon still
inside his mouth. Talon took over the pace of Dick’s sucking, holding his face
in place as he slowly rolled his hips, Dick’s lips stroking along the surface.
Hands dug into Dick’s hips, hard enough to hurt, as Thomas pulled out his cock
to the tip, before ramming it in again. He kept an even pace, each thrust
loosening up Dick’s body a little more each time. Dick winced with every
thrust, lips vibrating against Talon’s flesh with every sound he made.
When Dick’s body finally accommodated to Thomas’ size, able to accept his
thrusts without any rejection, Thomas built up his pace. Fucking him in
slightly faster, more controlled thrusts.
Dick could barely breathe between Talon in his mouth and throat and Thomas’
heavy weight on top of him. When he tried to prop himself up, his arm was
wrapped forcefully behind his back, Thomas’ grip absolutely bruising. Dick
winced in pain. Thomas’ thrusting seemed to go in deeper, harder. Pace almost
unforgiving.
And yet Dick found his breath hitching for new reasons as heat rushed through
his body.
It was wrong, he knew it.
He had every reason to be terrified for his life and Damian’s.
But with Thomas behind him, Dick didn't have to stare into his face to find a
resemblance. He could just feel. Feel the size of the man’s hands. Feel the
weight of the muscular, tall body on top of him. Even his voice, it was a
breath off, but it almost sounded like—
Dick shouldn't have been getting turned on but it all harkened back to old,
teenhood—possibly childhood—fantasies. Fantasies just like this. Fantasies of
being held down and fucked hard by a bigger, stronger, dark-minded man. A
fantasy that never came true, even with all of Dick’s sexual experience.
A husky breath, rough and low.
That voice.
Dick’s cock quickly got hard, now aching against the soft sheets as Thomas’
thick cock plowed into him, stretching him wide.
It hurt. It did.
But Dick had fantasized about that type of hurt many times. In that very manor.
In that very bedroom. Back when he was a boy, sometimes after a patrol, but
usually after a training session.
A training session where he was pinned down to a mat by a man, with an arm
wrapped forcefully around his back just like now.
It wasn't bruising back then. He could never be as cruel as Owlman.
But sometimes Dick wished it had bruised.
And Dick could almost replace this filthy situation with those long hidden,
dark thoughts. And it could almost make this bearable.
Thomas’ cock hit something inside of him and Dick moaned with Talon’s cock
still in his mouth, sparks racing down his spine.
“Like that, Nightwing?” Talon teased, hands massaging through his hair. And
Dick was ashamed because God, yes, he did like it. His hard cock rubbed up
against the sheets every time Thomas collided against him, each drive forward
occasionally brushing up against his prostate. It hurt, it hurt, but he wanted
it like this for so long. Had wanted it on this very bed for years. “He's good,
isn't he? I told you he would be. And to think—you tried to tell me no.”
And Thomas’ following thrusts came close but didn't quite hit him the same way,
making it clear that Thomas was doing this for his own pleasure and no one
else's. Dick groaned almost mournfully, resisting the urge to angle up his hips
for more.
There was a light thud somewhere in the room. It grabbed Talon’s attention, who
pulled away from Dick, giving Dick an opportunity to finally give his jaw a
rest. Dick turned his head in Damian’s direction. Behind Talon, Dick could see
the boy. Damian’s head was leaned back against the door as he groaned.
Dick stared, almost mesmerized, seeing Damian for the first time in what felt
like forever.
It was like Damian had been replaced with a different person.
Dick’s eyes followed the heaving chest extending to the long stretch of his
arms. Damian’s lips were wet and pink from biting around the cord for the
entire time Dick was being used. His former sidekick’s face was flushed deeply,
and he was making these desperate moans that made Dick’s cock stir. He had
managed to trap the massager between his thighs, rocking his hips needily
against the vibrating head, desperate for friction and contact on his strained
erection. He looked both hopeless and shameless, his pride gone as he sought
after his orgasm, and even if he wasn’t blinded, Dick had a suspicion that his
audience still wouldn’t have been able to stop him from rubbing his cock up
against the wand.
When he finally did come, his hips trembled. With nothing to stroke him, his
essence didn't shoot so much as it leaked from his cock onto the carpet. His
moan sounded unsatisfied and unhappy, more of a whimper than a groan. His body
finally relaxed, hanging from the shackled hands, his legs slack. His lips
parted, dropping the cord, and the object fell to the ground with a soft thud.
Talon picked himself off the bed, moving towards the panting boy. He picked up
the wand off the floor, finally shutting it off. Despite coming, Damian’s
erection was still standing, flushed dark in a way that made Dick worry. It
didn’t seem natural—and Talon’s threat of giving Damian a second dosage if he
dropped the cord made Dick terrified.
As Talon got closer to Damian, Dick could feel his protective senses kick in.
He couldn’t let Talon follow up on his threat. The aphrodisiac was already
doing too much Damian. Without thinking, he rose up from the bed with one
arm—but just as quick, Thomas’ gripped the pinned arm even harder and shoved
him back down. Dick bit into the sheets, feeling an ache in his shoulder. He
had no doubt that Thomas would know exactly how to dislocate his shoulder—and
wouldn't hesitate to do it too.
Talon undid the cuffs, catching Damian from falling him on the ground. There
was something uncharacteristically gentle in the way Talon handled Damian. Like
he actually cared.
Even Damian, sounding dazed and lucid, murmured, “Richard.”
Dick wanted to say something comforting but a rough hand wrapped over his
mouth, gripped hard enough to make his jaw ache. Dick saw Talon’s eyes flicker
in his direction—and Dick didn’t like the smirk that followed. Didn't like the
way that Talon’s eyes seemed to silently communicate with Owlman’s.
“I’m right here, Damian,” Talon said gently.
At that, Dick froze. His heart rate picking up.
“Bring him here,” Thomas spoke up. Talon obeyed, practically cradling Damian in
his arms, to the bed.
Dick looked at the face that was placed next to his, lips parted and panting.
“It hurts,” Damian mumbled, voice hazy. He wasn’t in the right state of
mind—he’d never confess to such a thing otherwise.
“Take it out,” Thomas ordered and Talon crawled onto the mattress next to
Damian, undoing the harness. A faint imprint remained on Damian’s skin where
the straps dug into his skin—dark and tender, a sheen of sweat on his skin. The
plug was pulled from him, the lube making a lewd sound as the object was
removed.
Even though Damian was protesting the object a moment ago, he still squirmed on
the bed, making weak sounds that seemed to stab directly into Dick’s chest.
Dick was part heartbroken to hear his former sidekick in so much misery, but
his wanton voice also made him tremble. Dick’s eyes travelled down the contours
of the boy’s body. Between his thighs he noticed that the boy’s cock still had
not gone down—he continued to twist blindly on the sheets, onto his front,
where his cock made contact against the bed. The boy practically whimpered at
the sensation.
“Look at him,” Thomas said, a growl to his voice as Damian sought relief by
rubbing his front up against the mattress. The revulsion was thick in Thomas’
voice. “Like a dog. Take care of him.”
Talon gazed in Dick’s direction as he pulled off his clothes, his expression
feigning an exaggerated pain. In his most pathetic impression, only passable
because he had Dick’s voice, he said, “You can’t make me do it.”
Dick couldn't help but glare this time. Thomas and Talon’s little act was just
fucking ridiculous—and the way they mocked Damian, in his weakest state,
enraged him. His blood was boiling at the performance.
Then suddenly, Thomas twisted Dick’s sore arm.
The other hand was removed from Dick’s mouth as he let out a shocked, pained
cry. Damian paused in his ministrations, long enough to listen, brow furrowed
over blinded eyes, but still not quite in a state of mind to register what was
happening. Thomas’ hand went back to muting Dick, the grip on Dick’s arm
finally removed. Dick’s face was still twisted up, trying to catch his breath,
his shoulder and arm still aching and throbbing, heart still beating
frantically. He closed his eyes, tried to calm himself down, to focus on
breathing and not the pain.
“Okay,” Talon said in a quiet, hurried voice. “I’ll do it.”
Dick’s brow furrowed. Despite his pain, the anger at the imitation still
lingered.
Talon finished undressing, lining himself up with Damian’s stretched hole. As
the hands gripped Damian’s hips, the boy’s body seemed to lean back, legs
spreading. As if presenting himself to his captor.
Against the sheets, Dick could hear him quietly murmur, “Please.”
It was just the aphrodisiac and the blindfold. Dick knew that. But it still
hurt to watch. Damian could barely think and he couldn't see. Dick knew he
should feel terrified instead of jealous, but he couldn’t help it. Since their
captivity, Damian had shared his body between both Dick and Talon. Talon played
games with them nearly every day, sometimes several times a day.
But even so, Damian never gave himself willingly to Talon. The whole situation
was forced, of course, but there was usually an additional struggle on top of
it. The boy’s usual stubbornness and haughtiness coming through. And now, to
see him fall under Talon’s spell, even whispering Dick’s name as he arched his
back up, filled Dick with rage and disgust.
He watched Damian’s swollen pink lips slowly part, gasping, as Talon began to
enter him. Thomas picked up his pace again, shallowly fucking Dick as Damian
was also spread open. Their faces were close—Damian completely unaware of Dick
watching him. Watching him, feeling his breath just barely brush against his
skin as he gasped and panted, watching his expression completely melt as Talon
slowly slid in, spreading him wider and wider.
Dick hated this feeling. Even more than he hated the way Thomas hurt him.
He hated feeling like he had been replaced.
Stop.
Damian groaned from the back of his throat as Talon went in deep, the sound
seeming almost satisfied. Dick was furious, his muffled voice protesting
uselessly against Thomas’ hand.
The bed shifted around as Dick and Damian were both fucked on the mattress. By
the time Thomas removed his hand—instead gripping Dick by the hips, fucking him
hard, bodies snapping together—Damian seemed to be falling apart. He was
rocking back to meet Talon’s thrusts, his cock pointed and leaking between his
legs. His moans so wanton that he might as well have begged.
Dick’s mouth felt dry as he watched him. He suddenly couldn’t bring himself to
say anything. Even if Damian were to understand the truth, that it was Talon
fucking him instead of Dick, it’d only shame him.
Perhaps the more merciful thing would be to keep quiet. To let Damian imagine
what he will.
Worse, Dick was afraid that even if he knew, it wouldn’t make a difference.
So he didn’t say a word.
Even as Talon played with the situation.
“I'm so sorry, Damian,” he mimicked, his eyes practically glowing. His thrusts
grew deeper, faster. Unlike Dick, Damian was well prepared. Talon fucked into
him with ease, the lubrication making filthy noises every time their hips met.
“You feel so good.”
Damian didn't seem to linger on the words. Instead he just continued twist his
body, angling himself to better meet Talon’s thrusts. Dick diverted his gaze,
unable to look into Damian’s desirous expression. But even when he turned,
Damian was the loudest one in the room, and each moan haunted Dick no matter if
his eyes were shut tight or focused elsewhere.
Thomas suddenly lifted Dick up. Dick shuddered as his body sunk into Thomas’
lap, the already massive cock seeming to push in deeper. When Thomas thrusted
upwards, Dick gasped.
Thomas held Dick’s hips in place, thrusting into the same angle. Purposefully.
Making Dick moan. Again and again, until the heat was burning on his skin.
Until he was shaking all over. The relief of finally being pleasured, instead
of aching and secretly hoping Thomas would fuck him properly instead of
treating him like an object, distracted him from all of his awful feelings.
Made his head swim with pleasure and his cock tremble as it bounced between his
legs, Thomas lifting him up and down his cock.
Dick looked down at Damian’s face, the boy’s head near his knees. Did he
realize what was happening above him? Or did he think Dick and Talon’s
positions were reversed?
With Dick’s needy moans, why wouldn't Damian think it was Talon being fucked by
Owlman?
“Richard, touch me,” Damian gasped, needy and desperate—his neglected cock
still red and hard, and he was practically whimpering into the sheets.
Talon’s hands touched Damian’s chest, fingers pulling at his erect nipples.
Damian groaned unhappily at Talon’s purposeful mistake. Talon just buried his
nose in Damian’s hair, leaving soft kisses on his head and on the shell of his
ear. All while deeply thrusting into him and teasing his chest. Damian was
squirming underneath him, wanting all types of pleasure at once.
Thomas grabbed Dick’s cock and the feeling alone was so relieving that it
wrenched a moan from him. But then he watched as Thomas angled his cock
downwards.
“Finish on his face,” Thomas said and the thought of it shamed Dick deeply but
he wasn't sure if he could fight back. He was so close, his spread thighs
quivering.
Suddenly Talon pulled out of Damian. Damian made a short sound, almost sobbing,
at Talon’s absence.
They might have switched places but Talon wasn't going to take the blame for
sullying Damian’s face. That guilt was still going to be on Dick’s conscience.
Thomas was pumping him quick and fast, the head of his cock pointed in Damian's
direction. Bumping against Damian’s cheek depending on the strength of Thomas’
thrusts, precum staining the boy’s face. Damian just flinched in response. He
was preoccupied in lifting his hips up and down, clearly wanting to be filled
again. Fucked again. Dick watched him as he moved, entranced, his head going
hazy.
Talon leaned over, mouth finding Dick’s chest. His wet, velvet tongue pressed
against his nipple, sucking, all while Thomas rammed into him. Dick could feel
the familiar tremors running through his body. He was riding Thomas, Talon’s
mouth and fingers on his chest, and Damian’s pretty, wanton face below him.
A rush of heat that went through him.
It was too much.
He came, a strangled moan pulled from him, his eyes rolling back. His entire
body trembled around Thomas’ cock. His thick seed shot onto Damian’s cheeks and
chin. Dick bit on his bottom lip, unable to stop himself as he sullied the
boy’s face. When the pleasure finally began to subside, Dick was filled with a
deep sense of guilt.
Thomas pulled out. It seemed almost merciful, given how sore Dick’s body was.
“Clean him off.”
Dick didn't need to be told how, the command fairly clear. He took in a
shuddery breath and though exhausted, Dick rolled over on the bed, closer to
Damian.
He laid his tongue flat against Damian’s skin, feeling the boy flinch but not
pull away completely, cleaning his own seed from the boy’s face. His essence
bitter and thick on his tongue.
When he was done, Dick felt this strong, lingering feeling of disgust and shame
in himself. His mind was reeling back, blaming himself for everything that
happened up until this point. Them getting captured. Damian getting tortured
and violated by these two men. All the things he had done to Damian personally,
from fucking him to dirtying him just a few seconds ago. And most of all his
own shortcomings that failed to get them out of there safely.
Dick didn't get to sulk for long. He felt a hand shove his sore shoulder.
Pushing him back onto the bed, pillows propped behind him.
“Hold him open,” Talon said, laying Damian against Dick, his back flush against
Dick’s chest. Dick clenched his jaw and did as ordered, hands hooking around
Damian’s thighs.
What did it matter at this point, really? After everything Dick had done, there
was no redeeming himself.
It was easier to just shut up and obey.
So he spread Damian open.
Talon resumed his position between Damian’s legs. Dick watched as Talon’s cock
disappeared inside of Damian, feeling Damian arch against him. Dick’s fingers
idly ran circles across Damian’s soft thighs, in some attempt of comforting
Damian as he was filled. His mind berating himself the whole time, a sinking,
depressing feeling washing over him as he watched Talon push all the way in.
Talon didn't skip a beat, immediately resuming his brisk pace from earlier.
Talon leaned toward Dick, Damian groaning uncomfortably as he was squeezed
between the two men.
“See? Isn't this so much more fun with all of us together?” Talon murmured
against Dick’s lips, before kissing him deep, tongue diving into Dick’s mouth.
Dick kept still, his mouth pliant, as Talon tasted the very mouth used to clean
Damian a moment ago.
Talon suddenly pulled away, making a harsh sound between his teeth. Dick looked
up, watched Owlman wrapped around Talon, biting into the crook of his protege’s
neck. Dick couldn't see well behind Talon, but it didn't seem like Thomas had
entered him. Instead he seemed to be rutting up against him.
Thomas’ mouth moved to Talon’s ear.
“Fuck him harder,” he commanded, voice low. And a shiver seemed to run through
Talon and Dick both.
And Talon did, to which Damian twisted against Dick’s body, moaning as Talon
fucked him. Damian’s hand reached blindly, gripping onto Dick’s biceps, holding
on as Talon drove into him. Dick just kept him spread, ignoring the growing
heat on his face as he watched the entire display. Damian crying out and trying
to meet Talon’s thrusts. Thomas rocking against Talon, guiding his thrusts
inside of Damian. Talon’s gaze, half lidded and clouded with lust.
The power and speed behind Talon’s thrusts was having a strong effect on
Damian. Damian’s skin was hot, his body squirming against Dick, making him
difficult to hold. But Dick kept him in place.
Damian gave a long moan, his body suddenly shaking. Without his cock even being
touched, he came for a second time, spilling onto his lower abdomen. Talon
followed soon afterwards, Thomas giving him orders. Harder, faster, deeper,
come.
Talon pulled out. Damian seemed short of breath and Dick let go of his thighs.
As he looked down, he frowned, seeing that Damian was still hard. Even after
all of that.
Talon was catching his breath but was still animated. He dragged Damian away
from Dick’s embrace, pulling him to the center of the bed.
“He’s still hard,” Talon said idly, index finger picking up Damian’s cock,
making him whine, before letting it fall back between his legs. Talon leaned
in, kissing Damian’s forehead almost affectionately. He murmured, “Maybe Uncle
can take care of you.”
His hand slipped between Damian’s legs, two fingers pushing into Damian’s hole
with a sound. They scissored inside of him, stretching him wide open, Talon’s
seed dripping from Damian’s ass down onto the sheets. Every heated sigh seemed
to punch Dick in the gut, his stomach twisting in revulsion at Talon’s
manipulation. From the stupid aphrodisiac to now his attempt to arrange nephew
and uncle. Damian’s fingers gripped at the sheets, his back arching up, the
fingers teasing his overly sensitive body. Talon’s kisses moved towards the
boy’s hairline, kissing the sweat off his skin.
“Is that what you need, little bird? Uncle’s big cock inside of you?”
Damian was practically whimpering as Talon's digits thrusted inside. Talon
tilted his head back at Thomas.
“Well? What do you think?” he said.
Thomas didn’t say anything. There was no need to, his visible arousal gave his
answer away. Talon released his hold on Damian, allowing Thomas to grab him by
the hips and drag him across the bed. Talon watched closely, almost with
perverse interest, as the head of Thomas’ cock pressed up against Damian’s
entrance.
Damian let out a long groan as Thomas began to push in. Dick didn’t like the
sound, especially having felt Thomas’ girth firsthand. Damian was absolutely
tiny underneath Thomas, who was even taller than Bruce and seemed to be made of
nothing but muscle. His hands alone, resting on Damian’s hips, almost seemed to
completely wrap around the boy’s small frame.
Another of Damian’s sounds seemed to pierce the room and despite his better
judgment, Dick found himself moving towards Damian—wanting to comfort him, to
hold his hand or stroke his hair or do something, but Talon’s arms wrapped
around Dick. Talon’s arms felt more like a strange hug than a pin, but it got
the message across clear enough. Dick was not allowed to go near Damian.
He could feel Talon’s lips against his ear, his breath fanning across his skin,
and Dick wasn’t sure who Talon was speaking to when he breathed, “He’s so
tight, isn’t he?”
Thomas’ thick cock was absolutely stretching Damian, who wasn’t at all prepped
for something of Thomas’ size. His groans and struggling was constant, seeming
torn between the aphrodisiac’s pleasure and the discomfort of Thomas’ cock
splitting him wide.
“Take off the blindfold,” Thomas said suddenly.
Talon obliged. Dick’s heart twisted slightly, finally seeing Damian’s face in
full, noticing that Damian’s eyelashes were wet. He had been through a lot, the
aphrodisiac likely intensifying everything he was feeling tenfold. The drug had
to have been unbearable—he already came twice but his cock was still so hard.
With Damian’s unveiling, he seemed all the more helpless. But Thomas didn’t
make any disparaging marks about his weakness. In fact, Dick noticed the slight
shift in his expression. The almost growing hunger in his eyes as he looked
into Damian’s face, the tendons in his massive arms seeming to tighten as he
gripped Damian harder, blunt fingers digging into Damian's soft skin. Thomas
shoved himself deeper, almost with a vengeance.
His size was too big. Damian’s sounds steadily moved from needy to unhappy.
Talon’s arms seemed to tighten around Dick, as if sensing his unease, but
Talon’s heated, lusty breaths against Dick’s ear only revolted Dick that much
more. Still, he stayed in place, well defeated at this point. Besides, Damian
was too vulnerable in this state and making a move would be nothing but risky.
Dick didn’t know Thomas well—but the ache on his knee did indicate how quick
and dangerous his temper could be.
When Damian cried out, the focus in Thomas’ eyes seemed interrupted.
“Shut him up,” Thomas said bluntly. Talon’s arms slipped away from Dick but
Thomas cut in. “Not you.”
Dick felt his stomach turn, not knowing what Owlman expected of him. He inched
closer to Damian, who was trying to catch his breath. He placed his hand over
his mouth, felt the boy inhale air as Thomas forced the rest of his cock
inside.
Damian protested against Dick’s hand, all while Thomas slammed into him over
and over. Dick watched, jaw clenched, as Thomas easily picked up the lower half
of his body, practically controlling Damian like a ragdoll.
Dick didn't quite understand what Thomas was searching for as he stared
intensely into Damian’s eyes, but he did know that he didn't like it.
Thomas’ voice started to grow vocal, his subtle breathing transforming into
husky groans and grunts as he hammered into Damian, his thick cock cleaving the
boy. Damian’s cock twitched between his legs, his sounds beginning to mellow
out as he got used to his uncle’s shape.
It didn't take long for Thomas to finish inside of Damian. He pulled Damian’s
hips in tight, pushing inside as deep as he could go when he came, adding to
Talon’s load.
When Thomas pulled out, Damian was silent this time around. His entire body
seemed to relax as it was dropped back to the mattress, his head resting
against Dick’s knee. Dick removed his hand, trying to look into Damian’s face
but the boy’s head was turned.
“Satisfied?” Thomas said, moving to the edge of the bed. Without even waiting
for Talon’s response, he said, “Get them out of here. I don’t want to see them
out of their cell again.”
“Carry him,” Talon ordered Dick, and Dick scooped up Damian, feeling his soft
breath fan against his chest. Holding him, Dick felt a strange sense of clarity
and calm wash through his body. It felt comforting to have Damian in his arms
properly, despite the circumstances.
“Richard,” Thomas said, as they got to the doorway. “Come back here when you’re
done.”
Soon enough, Dick and Damian were back in their cell, cuffed, their chains
leading to the walls. A pervasive silence filled the room, Dick still trying to
come down and process everything that happened. Worried that Owlman’s presence
had given them a taste of what their lives would be like for every night to
follow—until they were saved, anyways.
Despite everything, Dick still had hope that Batman and the others would come
for them.
“Richard.”
Dick stopped at the voice. There was something in the way Damian spoke his name
that made Dick more alert, snapping him out of his thoughts. There was a
clarity there, like a fog had lifted, not the same as when Damian spoke his
name while he was in the bedroom.
He looked up, saw Damian’s wet face. As his eyes lingered, he also saw that
Damian was still erect.
“Won’t go down,” Damian breathed. He looked absolutely exhausted.
Dick knew there were cameras on them at all times. That they were being
watched. That at best, Talon will amuse himself over the videos. At worst,
he'll come into the room and punish them for getting close. But Dick’s impulse
was to go to Damian. To pull him into his arms and hold him. So he did.
He moved the best he could to Damian’s cot, reaching the surface just as the
chains begin to grow taut. It was hard to move his hands with the cuffs on, not
giving him many other options. Dick lowered himself instead, head dipping
between Damian’s legs, mouthing over Damian’s erection. The head was still
glistening, the taste intense. Damian moved, bucking up towards Dick’s mouth,
but the sound he made seemed unsatisfied.
“Inside,” Damian breathed and Dick opened his mouth, ready to suck on the head,
but Damian’s chains rattled as he shook his head insistently. “No.”
Dick paused, conflict growing inside of him. It was one thing when he was being
forced to do things to Damian—but there was no one barking orders at them
inside this cell.
This whole situation worried him. Even when the time came for them to escape…
what then? Would Damian’s body and mind ever be the same again? Or would Talon
just always be a present, inescapable thought?
Still, Dick straightened his back, resting on his knees. He looked down at
Damian, trying to decide the best way to do this with his wrists cuffed
together. He settled on laying on his back and Damian took the hint. Without
hesitation, his former sidekick climbed on top.
Dick’s eyes closed, body shuddering as Damian slowly sunk himself onto his
erection. Damian was so wet that he slipped onto Dick with ease. Damian
controlled the pace, bouncing on Dick’s lap, chains filling the silence with
every movement, trying to work off the drug.
Dick reopened his eyes. Damian was looking at him. Though his body was flushed
and his cock hard, he seemed almost like himself again. His eyes were
undoubtedly looking into Dick’s, seeing him instead of an imitation.
Damian finally lowered himself, laying his head on Dick’s chest. Letting Dick
take over, thrusting up into him until they both came.
 
Talon just laughed wickedly as he landed on the bed, a stinging red mark on his
face. Thomas climbed onto the mattress, body looming over the assassin’s. He
yanked roughly on Richard’s arm, forcing him around, because he was only one
slap in and he wasn't nearly done with him yet for all the bullshit he just
pulled. But the acrobat suddenly wrapped his legs around his middle, as if he
was the one trapping him.
“Don't be so mad,” he said softly, a mirth to his breath. Thomas looked down at
him—dark hair spread out on the mattress, long bangs in front of sparkling blue
eyes. Their naked bodies were pressed against one another, Richard lewdly
rotating his hips, their cocks brushing against one another’s. “It wasn't all
so bad, was it?”
Thomas moved to pull Richard’s legs off of him. With a hand resting on each
limb, a thought occurred to him.
He squeezed hard on Richard’s knee.
As he predicted, Richard’s eyelids fluttered.
For all their resemblances, there was no mistaking his identity as he
whispered, “Harder.”
 
 
End Notes
     I felt a little guilty for how poorly I treated Damian in "Prey". I
     thought I was going to finish this story and feel the same way for
     Dick that I felt for Damian at the end of "Prey"... but I think
     Damian was actually the most poorly treated in this story too. :')
     Sorry Damian, I promise I don't hate you...
     Anyways, thanks for reading. Please don't hate me. :')
     Oh also, in other news, I reached 100+ subscribers. To celebrate, I
     accepted some prompt suggestions from everyone. I'm no longer
     accepting suggestion BUT in order to decide what I'm going to write,
     I'm having everyone vote for what prompt I should do. If you'd like
     to participate in voting, please check out my tumblr page for more
     details. And of course, thank you all for your support.
      
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