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“Just so we’re clear,” Jason says, gripping the end of the chain that attaches to the metal collar around Dick’s neck, “am I Bruce in this scenario?”
Slade, sitting carefully sprawled on the ornate chair they’re counting as a throne, raises his eyebrow.
“You don’t have to be,” Dick offers, as though sensing Jason’s disdain for the idea.
“He’s offering you as my spoils,” Slade says impatiently. “If he’s not your father, who the fuck else is he supposed to be?”
Slade’s got some kind of fur wrapped around his waist, and nothing else on. It is certainly very distracting. Jason does, 100%, understand the appeal of this whole fantasy. Slade’s bare, hairy chest draws his eye, to where the trail of white hairs lead down to his stomach and dip below the covering. Jason’s mouth waters.
He has no idea where they got the fur. Maybe Dick liberated an old rug from the manor — and he nearly snorts out loud at the mental image of Alfred’s expression at seeing it used for this purpose. Or, maybe Slade’s just the kind of guy who has fur loincloths lying around. That’s believable, for sure. After all, he is the kind of guy who has real, working neck irons and chains, and Jason’s not convinced he owns them only for sexy roleplay purposes.
“Maybe I’m his brother.” Jason shrugs. “Our father died in the battle, or something—”
“—Does Bruce always have to be dead?—”
“—so it falls to me to offer up my younger brother as spoils to the barbarian lord. For the sake of peace, of course.”
“Younger?” Dick questions.
“Fine, I can be younger,” Jason allows, but that doesn’t quite fit with how they’ve already set up the scene, so he adds, “But then we need a reason why you can’t inherit the throne. Were you disgraced for something?”
Slade pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stop,” he growls, “worldbuilding.”
Jason huffs. Typical. “Well, if you don’t want it to make sense—”
“How about this: shut up and present me with my prize, or I’ll fuck both of you one after the other and force you both to watch.”
Asshole. Slade would, too, if they keep wasting his time like this, and Jason didn’t prep to get fucked tonight. That’s not what he’s after here, this time. So he rolls his eyes, and ducks his head resignedly like the defeated warlord he supposedly is, and tugs Dick forward by the chain.
“He’s just getting into it,” Dick defends him. “Ow! Hey!”
“Quiet,” Jason hisses, “Do what he wants and it’ll be easier for you.”
Dick can slip into character way too quickly. His eyes water up — on command, the fucker — and he turns the big, shining blues right on Jason. His lower lip wobbles. “W-why are you doing this?”
He looks actually betrayed. Jason’s heart clenches, which is fucking stupid, so he tugs the chain again to urge Dick forward and snaps, “I told you to shut up.”
Dick makes his breathing hitch, like an aborted sob.
“Hey,” Jason says, real alarm shooting through him for a moment. Dick’s way too good at this. “I’m sorry, Dickie. But this is the only way.”
“Is it really?” Dick says, voice tight. “Or is it just the easiest way?”
“You know it can’t be me,” Jason tells him. “I have to lead our people. And Tim never returned from being fostered into the Titan clan, and it can’t be that bastard child Bruce sired with Talia—”
“Worldbuilding,” Slade snaps.
“Fine!” Jason throws up his hands. “Here’s your damn prize, my lord, and I hope you choke on it.”
“That’s not the way around this is going to go,” Slade says, flatly. Dick snorts, momentarily breaking character.
Jason shoves him to his knees in front of Slade for it. “Here he is, then.”
Slade steeples his hands together on his lap. “I think you should kneel yourself, Prince Jason,” he purrs, amused. “And present me with his chain.”
Jason scowls, but Dick shifts impatiently beside him. So he swallows down the automatic retort about titles in a pre-monarchic society like the one they’re emulating and just gets on his damn knees. He lowers his eyes and holds up the end of Dick’s chain above his head.
“I, Jason Todd,” he announces, “Present my brother, Dick, to Slade the Barbarian as spoils of war, in the hopes that he might be pleasing to you, and that you will seek fit to grant us mercy.”
Okay, so he wrote some lines for this. And memorised them. He’s got to salvage this terrible attempt at a roleplay somehow, and Slade sure isn’t going to help him.
“Hm,” Slade intones. “After your absolutely crushing and humiliating defeat in battle, my mercy is scraping thin. He best be very pleasing.”
“It was not crushing—!” Jason protests hotly, whipping his head up.
“Yes it was,” Slade states. “You fought sloppily and lost terribly and now you have to give me your precious older brother in the hope I don’t just choose to kill you all where you kneel.”
Slade’s eye is steely. Give in, that look says, and Jason bristles against it. Why does he always have to be such a damn bastard about everything?
“You’d better start acting a little more deferential, if you don’t want me to take it out on him,” Slade adds.
Fine. Whatever. Jason’s face burns a little red, which is the point but he’s not meant to be getting hard before they’ve even really gotten started. He shifts as though that’s going to conceal it — this stupid sheet toga is half translucent and doesn’t hide anything — and ducks his head again.
“My apologies,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Hm.” Slade takes the chain from him, and yanks Dick forward by it so he overbalances with a yelp, landing with his hands on Slade’s lap. “He’s very pretty. Is he any good?”
“How am I supposed to know that?”
“You mean you haven’t fucked him?” Slade scoffs. “I find that hard to believe, little Prince.”
“This isn’t Game of Thrones,” Jason snaps back. “He’s my brother.”
“Is he a virgin, then? I doubt you’d let anyone else have him. Are you a virgin, sweet thing?” Slade coos at Dick. “Is it your first time being ravished?”
Jason lifts his eyes instead of rolling them. The line is stupid and porny, but Slade’s hand is cupping Dick’s jaw, thumb stroking over his chin. Dick shivers, flushed pink, and there’s a distinct tenting in his own toga.
“I—” Dick swallows. “It’s not— I’ve fooled around, I mean—”
Way too good at this. He sounds exactly the right amount of scared and apprehensive, and Jason knows that little shiver is because Dick’s extremely turned on, and not actually worried about anything that’s going on, but damn if it doesn’t help sell it.
“Don’t be shy.” Slade strokes Dick’s hair back from his face. “I can be gentle, if it’s your first time.”
Dick shivers, again. Slade winds the chain around his free hand and tugs Dick up for a kiss.
It starts out soft, Dick’s hands braced against Slade’s bare chest, Slade cradling the back of Dick’s head. Then Dick lets out a startled mhmph! as Slade deepens the kiss, heavy and wet and claiming, his hand sliding down to grip the back of Dick’s neck possessively. A trail of spit connects their mouths when Slade pulls them apart. Dick gasps for breath.
“Is he to your liking, then?” Jason asks, trying and failing to hide the breathiness in his own voice. Because again. It’s not like Jason doesn’t see the appeal of this scenario — he really, really does — even if he can’t get properly into it the way Dick can without feeling silly about it.
“Oh, I think so.” Slade’s voice is low and lascivious. “But I’ll need to make sure before I let you leave, little Prince.”
“What?” Jason says, as though they didn’t agree on the plot to this beforehand. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” and Slade shoves Dick to his knees again, “you’re going to stay kneeling there, and watch as your precious baby brother sucks on my cock, and then you’re going to look him in the eyes when I fuck his pretty little ass until he screams.”
Jason’s so hard it’s going to kill him. “Dick’s older,” he says inanely, as if the details of the little scenario matter at all anymore.
“Is he?” Slade asks rhetorically. “I like it better this way.”
And Jason would snap at him that he doesn’t just get to decide that, and hasn’t he ever heard of ‘yes, and’, seriously, Slade is the worst at improvising — but then Slade’s tugging aside the fur to pull his cock out, and guiding Dick’s mouth down towards it, and just about every coherent thought Jason’s ever had flees his head all at once.
“Open up, princeling,” Slade tells him. “Go on. Show me what you can do.”
Dick glances back behind him. “Jason—” he starts, putting a little quiver into his voice.
“Don’t look at him,” Slade snarls, fisting a hand in Dick’s hair to twist his head back around. Dick inhales sharply. “He can’t save you now. Look at me.”
And fuck. That’s hot. That’s really, really hot. Jason grips at his knees, digging his nails in through the cloth of the sheet. He can’t look away from Dick’s face, and the girthy cock he’s being pulled towards, a bush of white hair at the base.
“You said you’d be – gentle,” Dick gasps, pleading, as Slade pulls harder on his hair. He takes Slade’s cock in his hand, barely able to wrap his fingers around it.
“I did, didn’t I? Get your fucking mouth on my cock and maybe I won’t force it down your throat. Gentle enough for you, princeling?”
“I’ve never done this before,” Dick whispers. His voice cracks.
Seriously. How is Dick so good at this. He knows Dick is the consummate performer, but could he stand to be a little less good at it, for the sake of Jason’s poor, throbbing erection, if nothing else? Dick lowers his head down, and hesitantly begins to lap at Slade’s cock with little darting licks of his tongue, looking for all the world like the virginal young prince he’s pretending to be.
“Stroke it,” Slade instructs, but he’s not looking at Dick. He’s looking right at Jason, his eye boring directly into him. “Get as much in your mouth as you can, and suck. If I feel so much as the scrape of teeth, I’ll take it out on your brother’s hide.”
Dick obeys, wrapping those plump lips carefully over his teeth, taking as much of Slade into his mouth as he can manage and stroking the rest with hesitant, jerking movements. Slade groans, carding his hand through Dick’s hair, and pushing him down further. Urging him to take more. Dick chokes, and Slade eases back, letting him set the rhythm.
Dick sucks Slade’s cock slowly, as though it’s really his first time doing it, keeping his watery eyes wide and looking right up at Slade. He rests his hand against Slade’s muscular thigh for balance, licking and sucking sloppily with uncoordinated motions. Jason can barely resist the urge to fist his own cock to the sight. Dick is perfect on his knees, and playing up the inexperience is definitely doing things for him. Like, Jason’s got a few new ideas to try out, next time, that’s for sure.
“Your brother’s got a good mouth on him,” Slade tells Jason. “Bet you’re wishing you’d tried it out when you had the chance, aren’t you?”
Hang on, that isn’t something they agreed to—“Hey—” Jason starts.
“Shut up,” Slade commands. He shoves Dick’s head further onto his cock, making him choke again, and Jason shuts his mouth with a click. His face is burning something awful. “Look at you. Getting all hot and bothered watching your little brother suck cock like he was born to do it. Did you know he was such a whore at heart? Is that why you picked him for this? Did you know he’d be this good at it, or did you just want the excuse to watch him try?”
Dick whines from the back of his throat around his mouthful of cock. Jason lets out a ragged exhale. Humiliation sits thick and cloying at the base of his stomach, the filthy words flustering him more than they have any right to, considering that this is all fucking make-believe, that Dick is not his fucking little brother or a prince and definitely not a virgin. And that no one has so much as touched Jason. He’s already leaking pre, making a little damp spot in the sheet of his toga, and his head feels hazy with arousal.
Slade abruptly yanks Dick up off his cock with a pop and a splutter, spinning him around to face where Jason is kneeling and bending him over. Dick yelps.
“Let’s see that pretty ass, then,” Slade says, rucking Dick’s toga up to his waist. “Spread your cheeks wide, boy. And look your brother in the eye while you do it.”
Jesus fuck. Dick reaches behind himself and spreads his ass cheeks apart, his gaze locked on Jason as he does, a mirrored crimson colour butterflying over his face. Jason swallows a strangled groan and grips the hem of his toga, rubbing the cotton of the sheet just to give him something, anything to ground himself on.
This idea is way too stupid to be doing this much for him. And yet.
“What’s this?” Slade purrs, like he doesn’t know. “You’re all oiled up, little princeling. Did your brother do that for you? Get you all prepped to ease the way for my cock so you don’t get torn apart?”
“Ye-es,” Dick stutters, as Slade presses a finger inside him.
Jason did prep Dick when they were getting set up for this. But it was meant to be so Slade could fuck him without having to do the prep himself, so Slade could play at ravishing Dick without caring if it hurt him, not… not whatever Slade is doing now. Jason bites his lip.
“Hm,” Slade hums, pumping the finger in and out, and quickly adding a second. “Did you like it? Did he finger you open, nice and slowly?”
“Yes,” Dick whimpers. Fuck.
“Did he make it good for you? Did you want him to do more?”
“Y-yes.” Fuck.
“Did you want him to fuck you?” Slade’s up to three fingers, now. “Did you want your brother’s cock in you, filling you up, making you feel good?”
“Oh g-god, yes, yes!”
Jason tastes blood. He bit through his fucking lip. Jesus fucking Christ, but this is going to kill him.
Slade stands. He wraps one hand around the chain, pulling the other out of Dick’s ass and lining his cock up with his hole. Jason’s breath catches in anticipation. His hips jerk involuntarily, seeking stimulation, because he’s so fucking pent up about this he feels like he’s about to burst with it.
“Keep your eyes on your brother,” Slade instructs, and Jason’s not sure if he’s talking to him or Dick.
He shoves in without any further ado. Dick’s eyes blow wide. He makes a garbled, ragged cry, and it sounds like someone tore it from his throat. “J-Jason,” he whimpers. “It’s so big.”
Jason’s about to blow his fucking load completely untouched. Holy shit. The way he sounds.
“It’s okay,” he gets out, clinging to the fiction they’ve set up like a lifeline to hold himself together. “You’re okay, Dickie, you can do this.”
Slade snaps his hips forward, and again, tugging Dick back onto his cock by the iron around his neck, and Dick’s eyes bulge and water as he chokes. Dick lets tears spill over his eyes, and then Slade groans and really starts to fuck him in earnest.
Each of Slade’s thrusts fills Jason’s ears with the clinking of the chain, slapping of flesh on flesh, and the sound of Dick’s cries. Completely ignoring his promise of being gentle, Slade sets a ruthless, lurching pace, one that drives Dick forward onto his toes with the force of it, only to be dragged back by the pull of the iron collar digging into his throat. Dick sobs and cries like it’s all real, like he’s really that waifish prince being ravished by the big bad barbarian lord, but the fact that it’s so silly and obviously fake doesn’t make it feel any less visceral.
Jason feels like he’s being punched in the stomach. Repeatedly, each forceful thrust and desperate cry striking at something inside him. And it just makes his arousal pool up all the faster, because Dick is fucking mesmerising like this, being taken like this, and Slade’s skin is sweat-glistening and his hand on Dick’s back is broad and strong and, just, fuck, it’s – really fucking hot, is what it is.
“How do you like it?” Slade pants. “Watching your little princeling brother get fucked like this? Wishing it could be you doing the fucking instead?”
“Shut up,” Jason hisses through gritted teeth.
“Do you think he could come like this?” Slade wraps a hand around Dick’s cock, and Dick jerks, mouth falling slack, eyes glassy with pleasure. “Little whore. You like this, don’t you?”
“I– I—” Dick stutters, trying and failing to form a coherent sentence with his brain clearly melting out of his ears.
“Tell me you like it and I’ll let you come.”
Jason has to bite his fist, because Jesus, that fucking tone.
“Tell me you like getting fucked in the ass while your brother watches you moan like a whore. Say it.” Slade’s thrusts haven’t slowed, but he’s gripping the base of Dick’s cock in his fist, not letting him come until he says it.
Dick’s moan is wrenched from his lips. “Ngh — I– I like it,” he gets out.
“What do you like?”
“I– I like g-getting fucked in the ass.”
Jason is going to combust.
“And?”
“And– and I like my brother watching me m-moan like a whore.” Dick’s whole face and neck are red. Jason feels the same. It’s just a roleplay, and Dick’s a good actor, but it sounds too true, too real to just be that.
Fuck it. They’ve already gone so off script, and he can’t fucking stand this. Jason fists his cock in his hand, frantically jerking himself, and he swears loudly when Slade releases his grip and Dick comes all over himself, his eyes rolling back in his head.
“Get up,” Slade commands, and Jason stumbles to his feet blearily. “I want you to come on his face.”
It’s like a sucker punch; Jason inhales sharply, the burning want suddenly engulfing him. Dick looks up at him with a hazy expression, post-orgasmic bliss starting to twist into overstimulation as Slade keeps fucking his ass with the same relentless force. His dark lashes flutter, and they definitely didn’t negotiate this, but Dick’s mouth falls open and his tongue hangs out, and that’s as good an invitation as Jason needs.
Jason shoves his stupid toga aside and jerks his cock once, twice, and then with a rush he’s spilling all over Dick’s face. Thick ropes of his come land on Dick’s nose, his tongue, gloopy strands painting his pretty cheekbones and getting into his hair. Behind Dick, Slade slams in deep and then stills, unloading into Dick’s ass and filling him up with his come.
Dick’s knees buckle, and Jason and Slade both hastily catch him and steady him down to the ground.
“Fuck,” Dick groans, when he finally catches his breath and gets the come wiped off his face. “That was incredible. We’re doing that one again, absolutely.”
“You’re an asshole,” Jason informs Slade. “Seriously. What the fuck was that.”
“Call it improvising.” Slade’s expression is unrepentant. Dick snuggles up to him, his legs in Jason’s lap. “What are you complaining about? You were into it.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“No fighting,” Dick mumbles. “That’s the rules.”
“Slade’s the one who broke the rules,” Jason huffs, crossing his arms. He sounds like a petulant child, and he can’t bring himself to care. “Fine. But he has to learn some actual lines next time. This is why I said we need a script.”
“I am not learning lines.”
“Slade,” Dick says, in that cajoling tone, the one that never fails to get them both falling over themselves to give him what he wants. “Please?”
And that’s as much as it takes. “…If we must,” Slade grits out, with a put-upon sigh. “Pick something else, though, not this one again.”
“Great!” Dick sits up, an exuberant smile stretching across his face. “Because you know, I’ve actually had this idea about mermaids and pirates for a while now…”