#timslade

Slade had never taken a job so fast before.

But the idea of getting to use Wayne’s newest brat and rubbing it in Grayson’s face on top of that?

Too good to pass up.

Besides, the new Robin could use a formal introduction to Deathstroke outside of what he’s read in the Bat’s files and been warned of from his big brother. A formal introduction that is sure to leave a scar. Maybe in more ways than one.

Between Slade’s size and his stamina, Drake is sure to end the night exhausted, with memories of Slade burned into the back of his mind. He’ll ruin him for anyone else. Drake won’t be able to touch another person without thinking of how Slade touched him first, about how Slade made him feel.

And now that he’s in Drake’s home? His bedroom? Seeing this- He’s going to leave Drake another little present by the end of the night too, and if he doesn’t take, then he’ll just have to come back and do it again, pro bono.

Slade has barely stepped through the kids window but he’s still a little surprised Drake hasn’t stirred- shows how good the Bat’s training is. Slade almost wants to roll his eye at the thought, but the image of Drake sprawled in bed increases his patience.

He hadn’t known about the two little mounds poking up under the boy’s camisole. He really hadn’t known about the wet slit between his legs, clearly visible due to the way the kid’s short little shorts are rucked to the side.

There’s no need to continue to sneak or be quiet- the elder Drakes are currently out of the country, their son deemed old enough to stay at home alone no problem- they certainly could never foresee Slade coming. And the younger has no chance against him, not here, not like this.

It’s not until Slade is straddling him that Drake manages to wake, and by then, it’s far too late for him to do anything against him.

He rips off the camisole, shoving a strip of it in his mouth when he opens to complain- no reason to let him flap his lips at him. He’s had enough of the quips and snips from Grayson over the years, thanks, he doesn’t need it from version three as well.

Tape seals the fabric in, keeping the little bird quiet but not complacent. He’s kicking and shoving at Slade to no avail- more like an annoying gnat than anything else, but it ensures the offending limbs are taken care of next- more tape wound around his ankles and thighs, then even more above and below his knees. All the while the little bird is still trying to shove and claw at him, the thin lines of blood drawn into his skin healing over just as quickly as they’re made.

When Slade finally grabs at the offending wrists, Drake starts to whine through the gag, clearly trying and failing to make any sort of intelligible sound. Slade thinks it might be “please” over and over again, but he can’t be sure with how stuffed his little mouth is.

Lucky for him, Slade isn’t going to tape his arms just yet- no, first he pins them to the bed above his head and then leans in bite harshly at Drake’s little chest, causing him to arch heavily up off the bed before Slade pulls back, a small smear of blood staining his lips as he grins.

“Didn’t expect to find these. A well kept secret considering my client definitely didn’t know what they had really requested when they hired me.” At Drake’s questioning look brings a chuckle tumbling forth. “Mommy and Daddy have a rival that wanted pictures of your defilement. So don’t let me forget to document this later.”

Drake is still pulling at the hold on his wrists, moreso now that he knows Slade’s intentions, and there it is. Fear in his eyes, and not just the anger from earlier.

Even with Drake fighting him every step of the way, it’s no problem to get him turned over on his stomach, hand wrenched behind him to get them all taped together. He even takes the extra time to wrench Drake up onto his knees so he can wrap tape around his arms and chest, too, making sure to frame his tits in the process.

He gives one tit a slap before dropping the little bird’s front back to the bed, forcibly keeping him up on his knees with his hips up. It leaves his little pussy nice and vulnerable, easy for Slade to shove the head of his cock into, easy to leverage the little thing up by his grip on his hips- using him more as a toy than a person, fucking into him not unlike he would if Drake were just the little toy sleeve he uses on occasion. Except his toy doesn’t whine and scream the way the little bird does.

Still, with Drake bent over like this, it’s easy to picture he’s Grayson beneath him- getting to take the little bird for the first time again.

Drake is so much smaller than Grayson ever was though. He’s hitting up against Drake’s cervix with every thrust and pull, little pained noises high enough to make it through the muffling. He leans further over to thrust slower but harder- his lips finding the boy’s ear, “My client might not need the photos as proof, after all, I bet the baby I put in you will be enough, don’t you?”

The little bird writhes beneath him at that- thrashing as much as the tape allows- and even though it’s something Slade likes about teasing Drake, he punishes him for it anyway, giving him another harsh slap on his tit before grabbing and pinching at his nipple.

Drake screams into the gag again when Slade continues to pinch and twist and pull, his writhing a lot more genuine than the tantrum he threw a moment ago.