There's a shuffle of movement, and then he's dragged into Drake's lap and shoved down onto his belly. For a breathless second he laid there, stunned. But, it took a couple of seconds for his brain to catch up with him, and when it did Damian immediatelysnarledand began to thrash around angrily.
"What thefuck,you imbecile-" He spat, and wriggled madly against Tim's thighs, trying his best to escape. He didn't respond.
A firm hand held his arms flush against his back, and as much as he tried to he couldn't ignore the sharp, lancing pain that happened every time he tried to sit up; each time he tried, his so called brother pushed him down again by his captured wrists, harsh. Panic crawled up his throat when he failed to escape again and again and again. But he fought on, regardless.
After a couple minutes of fruitlessly trying to escape and desperately attempting to stamp down his emotions, his captor's patience ran out with a measured sigh. Right in the middle of one of his upward heaves, Drake finally, finally responded, voice frigid and blank, and crushed him against his legs. "Stop."
Fear trickled down his spine, but Damian ignored it. Craning his neck as best as possible to glare at Tim, he opened his mouth and let the poison licking at the back of his throat spill out, covering up his fear as best he could. "Unhand me at once, you pathetic coward." Much to his horror, his voice trembled slightly, giving away his terror as he still wriggled around.
There was a moment of silence after his yell. Cold, all encompassing, frightening.
And then Timothy slapped his ass. Hard.
Biting back an instinctual yelp, he stiffened up, muscles locking. This had officially gone from annoying and weird to terrifying. Why had he done that? Was this supposed to be some horribly messed up Western substitution for discipline?
(It had to be.)
Damian didn't say anything, and instead dropped his head on the armrest with a quiet 'thunk' and desperately tried to regulate his breathing. Drake ran the same hand across his cheeks, soothing them gently. And then- then he began rubbing and stroking in ways that made the younger shiver. It was absentminded, casual, like when Grayson ruffled his hair or when Todd placed a steady hand on his shoulder, but the fact that it was his ass made him doubly uncomfortable.
This was. Not appropriate.
He was entirely out of his depth. He did not know what was going on, or what had possessed his brother to do this, but he did know that any type of weakness- a sound, a shift in body language, anything- would not benefit him. Forcibly, he relaxed into Timothy's hold; if he could convince him that he was truly submissive to this, this, punishment, or whatever it was, the better chance he could take him by surprise and escape.
His train of thought was derailed when Drake spanked him again, equally as harsh as the first, and Damian clenched his jaw. It burned. As loathe as he was to admit it, it hurt.
"Fuck, that shut you up, didn't it?" He muttered, voice low and husky with something Damian did not like at all.
A thick thumb rubbed across his crack in a way that couldn't be interpreted as anything other than sexual, and the younger trembled at the confirmation of what he suspected was happening. He didn't want this.
"Don't touch me, let me go-" His fear couldn't be missed, now, and if he wasn't so terrified with the situation he would be more concerned about his pride, but he was desperate. "Please!"Damian shrieked, and to his complete and utter surprise, Drake's hands lifted from where they were clasped around him hard enough to bruise and shoved him out of his lap, out onto the floor.
He hit the floor with a crack.
For a second, he lay there, stunned and curled up onto his side, and then a foot prodded at his back. "I did what you asked," Tim said casually, eyes already fixed back on the Batcomputer. "-now move, please, you're in the way."
Pulse pounding in his ears and shamefully,shamefullypulsing his groin, Damian hissed- well, more like sobbed- out, "What iswrongwith you?!" The older man pushed back in the chair silently and dug his heel into the softest part of Damian available until he yelped.
"I'm giving you what you want, Damian. You're acting out and being a goddamn brat because you need attention, right? Need someone to give at least some sort of shit about you, even if it's punishing you for bad behavior?" The pressure increased even more, and Damian shook his head, lips parted but no words coming out.
Timothy tsked. "Stop lying. We both know I'm right, and we both know if youreallytried you could have escaped."
(He was right.)
His foot nudged Damian again. "Now move. I won't ask again." Dumbstruck, confused, and perhaps the tiniest bit aroused, he rolled over and scampered away towards the nearest exit, feeling like his whole world had just been turned over.
He didn't look back, but if he did he would have seen Tim, hard in his pants.
Just like him.
A similar strange occurrence happened again two days later. They were on patrol, and Damian had actually been beinggood, if a bit quiet, and both of them didn't bring up what happened.
Then Robin had done…something. He wasn't even sure what- maybe it was the snarky comment he made a couple of minutes ago, or how he'd brushed past the elder roughly when they landed on the roof, but he was currently bent over with his face shoved against the rough wall with one of Tim's hands curled in his dark hair and pressing against the back of his head to grind his cheek into the brick while he loomed over him. There was no space between them; they were flush to one another with Tim quite literally draped over him, and that meant his crotch was right against Damian's toned ass.
"Red Robin-" he growled and began to squirm, "-what is the meaning of this. Getoff." He couldn't really see Tim because of how he was being held down, so the hot puff of air and warm lips that just barely brushed the tips of his ears caught him off guard.
"No."
Damian blinked.
"What the hell do youmeanno??" He bucked his hips angrily and struggled as best he could because of the awkward, uncomfortableintimateposition he was in, but all that succeeded in doing was making Tim even more irritated.
His head felt jumbled. Accusations and pleas and threats all scrambled around in Damian's mind, and just as he was able to gather his thoughts a warm hand palmed over his thighs and dipped down, and heyelpedlike a wounded dog.
The vigilante ignored him and slivered his free hand towards Damian's warm groin, cupping over it entirely, and that's when he gave up being pliant.
"Youfreak-!"
Timothy simply tightened his grip, using his weight to keep the little demon in in place and let out a soft snort at how stupid his brother's frantic escape attempts made him look. And, well. How Damian was achieving the opposite of what he wanted as he accidentally stimulated his crotch with his flailing. His cock swelled, slow, and he groaned low in his throat, making Damian still momentarily as he realized what was bumping up against his cheeks.
And that's when he began toreallythrash around and protest.
"Shutup." Rolling his eyes, Tim removed his hand from Damian's crotch and carelessly shoved two digits into his gaping mouth. Before he could try and bite off the invading fingers, they wormed their way to the back wall and plunged down even further into his tight throat with a wet squelch. Damian gagged around the intrusion and tried to struggle away, but Tim- with a cruel smirk on his face- simply tsked mockingly and rolled his hips up, grinding casually.
"You could get away, brat," He remarked, "All you have to do is tap your emblem and your emergency beacon will go off." The pressure on Damian's face abruptly increased as he pushed it harder into the brick, and he hissed angrily as grit scraped up against his tender skin.
"Or," Tim offered, leaning in conspiratorially, voice dark, "You could do somethingstupidandnot." He rolled his hips into Damian's and grunted at the stimulation, thrusting roughly once before he stopped but still kept him pinned in place.
"Well?"
Damian didn't touch the R pinned proudly on his chest, just looked back at him, face blank and red with both his blush and the wounds that dribbled out blood. Slowly, and just the tiniest bit, he tilted his hips back and spread his legs so Tim had access to the inside of his thighs at the exact same time as he spat out an insult at the older teen. "Damnyou, Drake-"
Tim's gloved hand slapped down over his mouth, and without stopping the slightest bit he rammed three of his fingers in as far as they could go. Damian gurgled, protested, and Red Robin rolled his eyes beneath his mask. "Do us both a favor, Damian, and shut thehellup for once. Let me make you beuseful."He abruptly increased the tempo and force of his thrusts against the younger as he presumably raced towards orgasm- just some from frotting, Damian thought-, jolting him forward and making his dark skin smear across the rough brick once again with each rough clap of their hips.
Drake didn't said a word after that, justusedhim.
A long, drawn out groan soon broke the night air, and Robin could feel the wet warmth from the other's ejaculation soak into his uniform. "Slut," Tim rasped against his neck, and jerkily rutted up against him a couple more times, "What a goddamnpainslutyou are."
He stopped moving, and the two of them panted for a quiet moment. "Remove yourself-" Damian started, but he was cut off by a harsh smack to the face. His head jerked to the side from the force of it, and he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks once again. It was humiliating, it wasdegrading, and ithurt.
It feltgood.
By the time he regained his senses and righted his head, Red Robin was gone.
They didn't talk about it. There was no aftercare or apologies, but if Tim was a little bit more patient and Damian a bit more mellow, than it was simply coincidence. Their relationship was still a hot mess, even without the morephysicalside of it, but they had reached a balance, even if it seemed like they were more rough with each other, meaner.
Tim hurt, and he took, and Damian let himself be combative, let himself be objectified andgave.
Things just… progressed. Frottage and oral and handjobs, everything under the sun but Tim's cock actuallyinsidehim.
It was infuriating. It was torture. It wasunfair.
Damian didn't bring it up.
"Oh," Damian whimpered, "oh."
His hips rocked back and forth on top of Tim as he fluidly fucked himself on the elder's fingers, the Batchair creaking with each movement. He was doing most of the work; all of it, if he was being honest, but he at the very least he was grateful to have someone touching him and paying him attention, no matter how little or cruel it was.
At a particularly deep thrust that hit his prostate, he moaned and began to pant, trying his best to hit that bundle of nerves again. Above him, Tim didn't move an inch, eyes firmly placed on the computer as he typed with his free hand. "Would you be quiet? I'm trying to concentrate."
Damian snarled. "Fuck you, Drake!"
The quiet clicking of keys abruptly stopped, and there was a moment of absolute stillness, and then Tim moved.
One hand twisted Damian onto his stomach so he was facing ass up, and before he could protest his long, slender fingers cruelly jabbed up into the younger.