Title: Fifty Shades of Slade

Chapter Title: Fuck

Rating: M for obvious reasons.

Disclaimer: I don't own this… I think that's why there's Teen Titans Go and no season 6.

Author Notes: Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! You guys ROCK! Also, shout out to Mallomars. You're too kind.

Anyway, we're going to be taking a merry little stroll into the past to see how this arrangement was started. Fun. I always thought it would fun to have a Trigon made them do it prompt that caused them to keep seeking each other out. Just blame the Devil, literally, for all of the Titans' problems. Good solution.

Ahem. Anyway, have fun. And remember kids, always use protection!

Warnings: Fingering, wall sex, fantasies, light BDSM mention, outdoor sex... I think I got everything? I think?

Please enjoy!

It didn't start out that way. Hell, it wasn't supposed to start out at all, but of course, Trigon had a to be a fucking prick (with a capital, so capital it was almost a punishment, P-R-I-C-K) and had to screw everything up.

As Raven liked to call him, Trigon was a fucked-up incestuous prick that got his rocks off watching the two of them. Lust, love, they were all just emotions in the end and Trigon was a master at emotional manipulation.

Yes, if his precious little gem was going to be touched by anyone, it would be by a servant of his choosing. Tag. Slade was suddenly it.

It was one last parting gift from Daddy dearest—in addition to the years of nightmares, abuse, and scars. Of all the things to give her… Trigon just had to make her want her worst enemy.

Great.

Freud would have had a field day with Trigon the Terrible…

Actually, Freud would have a field day with the two of them too.

The dreams didn't help matters much. The reality of the situation was so close to the fantasy that it was hard to tell that fine line apart.

Raven fantasized about that fateful night on the tower. Part of her—the emotional part of her repressed on Azarath but freed upon Trigon's defeat, the part of her that wanted love and intimacy and feeling—would rear its ugly head. Parts of her (more like all of her) wished Slade would have gone further than what his Master had ordered and done more than just burn her flesh with His symbol, but instead took the time to mark her as his own with sweat, and heat, and new battle scars.

He imagined about that fateful night of the End, that night when she ordered those demons of flame to push him down and restrain him. Before then, she had been nothing more than an amusement, later she became a threat, but on that night, she had been nothing short of magnificent, a magnificent bastard with a brilliance that he could respect. Slade had almost been disappointed when she had left him there (though not without leaving that ring behind). He wouldn't have minded submitting to her, right there and then.

She dreamed his cold fingers would work underneath her torn shirt to cup her breasts. That he would tease her, make her moan, in spite of all her protests and attempts to escape. Slade would press her down to the cold, hard earth, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. He'd lean down and wipe her tearful eyes, as his hand would bring up a finger—wet from her own juices—and put it in her mouth. Obediently, she would suck as he'd whisper in her ear, "What a naughty whore you are, getting so wet for your most hated enemy" before fucking her until she woke up with wetness trickling between her legs and a frustrated growl on her lips.

He visualized she would slam him against the wall, her breasts soft against his chest. She'd tear away everything, leaving him nothing more than a skeleton before she brought back his flesh—if only for him to be a toy to be used and discarded. He'd lose himself in her, as she rode him with all the lust of hell, moan as her fingers deftly wound their way around his hair and pulled—hard so he was forced to look up at her. "What a good boy," she'd coo in his ear. "Maybe, when this is over, I'll reward you" and then she would grind her cunt against his face until he woke up with a guttural groan and a raging boner that wasn't going away any time soon.

They would both wake up, drenched in sweat and too aroused for hands to take care of. They'd dream of how they would writhe under the other's touch, how the other would press up against them, taking them, marking them.

They were prideful people. To dream about giving up their pride for another's pleasure just heighted the desire.

The dreams didn't go away. The feelings and the emotions remained.

And they both thought Trigon should go fuck himself and deserved his death. (But at the same time, they secretly wanted to bring him back to life so there would be a way to fix this.)

There was really only one solution.

They fuck. On the battlefield. (It was a factory, if you really want the details, but a battlefield was close enough.)

It was simple really. A couple of phone calls and his little bird was right where he wanted her to be at an abandoned factory. They wouldn't be disturbed there—not with the Titans all over the city chasing snipes.

Raven sensed his feelings of arousal before she even saw him. He approached her, emerging from the shadows. With every step, Slade looked more like a man and less like a criminal mastermind by the second.

"Your father gave me an… amusing little gift." Slade hesitated slightly. How was one supposed to explain this situation? I'm-dreaming-about-you-banging-me-so-let's-have-sex?

Fortunately, Raven spared him from any further clarification. "You too? ?" She looked relieved. "Oh good. I thought I would be the only one and I'd have to awkwardly explain it to you."

He blinked. "You dream about having sex with me?"

"Yep," she replied, popping the p. "Just like you dream about having sex with me."

Well, that certainly made matters simpler.

So he proposed. No, not the get-down-on-one-knee-will-you-please-marry-me proposal, but the I-seriously-need-to-get-you-out-of-my-head-so-please-please-let-me-fuck-you proposal. No strings attached. Just a brief truce, so they could get rid of...whatever this was and they could finally go back to just hating each other without the stupid feelings that had followed.

Neither of them would be talking about this to anyone else. (Besides, no one would have believed them.)

"Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Raven looked nonchalant about the entire thing, but he could just see the blush on her cheeks. She looked so enticing in that leotard that hugged her curves in all the right way, and he found himself reaching forward so his fingers worked themselves down to brush against her hip. Her breathing suddenly became unsteady, and she squirmed in his arms.

"Have you ever had sex before?" he murmured, absently rubbing circles on her hip with his thumb.

"No." She flushed and became all too interested in those boots of hers.

"Ah." Slade pressed up against her, his hands gripping her hips to pull her back tighter. He wasn't usually into blushing virgins, but with Raven, he could finally see the appeal. That nervous energy all coiled up, the wide eyes—yet he knew her softness was hiding steel. "Then let me educate you, little bird."

Every word of his was dripping with power, dark, velvety, intoxicating. He slowly unclasped her cape and let it fall to the floor. She bit her lip and tried to ignore the trickle of wetness dripping down her thigh. His fingers tugged at her leotard, and the thin fabric tore easily with a simple flick of his wrist. She shivered, cold from the sudden exposure.

"Cold, Raven?" The amusement in his voice caused her toes to curl. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Y-yes."

"Not to worry." His metal mask leaned against her cheek. His fingers trailed across her collarbone before dipping down to cup her breasts. He began to play with her nipples, his touches tortuously fleeting and light. "We'll fix that."

She pushed her chest forward, trying desperately to give him more access. Raven bit her lip, drawing blood, as she felt the pleasure begin to build. His touch was beginning to burn. He looked on with that cold, blue eye of his.

"So wanton…" Slade chuckled. He squeezed her breasts possessively, provoking a very large moan. "It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?"

Her cheeks reddened—from both humiliation and desire. Underneath his mask, Slade grinned. There was something inherently male in him that made him even more aroused from just watching her melt from his touch. His finger dipped down and slipped past the waist-band of her panties. She jerked the moment his fingertips had danced on her swollen cilt. So sensitive…and all for him.

She was so tense, and he couldn't have that, now could he? "Breathe, little bird."

She obeyed. Taking a deep breath, she let out a strangle gasp when he slipped in a finger. Slade curled it upward and began to rock, back and forth, back and— Raven didn't know when but somehow her hips started to instinctively move with him, meeting his finger's tentative thrusts.

Then he added two fingers.

She could barely find words as she began to lose herself to the rocking sensations. All that mattered in the world right now was him and that delicious, quivering feeling that was slowly building.

"Warm yet?" he asked.

"Yes," Raven managed to gasp between stammers of Azar and his name. Slade watched as she began to ride his fingers. His arousal was pressing against the suddenly tight fabric of his uniform. If she weren't a virgin and if he were a man with less control, he would have thrown her to the ground and had his way with her.

She was seeing stars. The world began to fluctuate between color and darkness. Raven wanted to close her legs, but Slade's knee forced her to keep her legs open. She kept riding his finger through her orgasm, even as her legs became jelly and her heart began to beat out of her chest. A breathless mess, Raven would have keeled over if it hadn't been for Slade's arm that held her steady.

"Good, Raven." He ran a hand through her hair. "You're learning."

She wished she could give a good comeback. A strangled groan was all she could manage. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she barely knew left from right anymore. She stumbled forward, her breasts accidentally pressing up against his chest.

Slade didn't mind. "Do I give you that much pleasure, Raven?"

She nodded frantically.

"Good," Slade crooned. "I will give you more pleasure while I take mine."

"Yes. Please," she begged. He could feel her cunt trembling, hot and dripping. So wet, so eager to please… Just that look in her eyes—that innocent, desperate look that was dazed from pleasure—was almost enough to make him cum. "Please."

"Ass out, legs spread, hands on the wall," he murmured in her ear. Raven was all too quick to obey his orders. Raven placed her hands on the wall of the factory, uncaring of the grime. Sticking her ass out, she looked behind to fix him with a stare that set his body on fire.

She was defenseless and all his for the taking.

He unbuckled her belt before he tore the rest of the leotard from her body and carelessly threw it to the floor. She naked, save for those delightful black lace panties. Slade delicately rolled her soaking panties down her legs and placed them in one of his utility belt's pouches for safe-keeping.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he released his cock—and damn, it was an amazing cock and she'd seen porn—and rolled a condom over it.

"Like what you see?" His breath tickled the shell of her ear.

"Yes, Slade." She ground her hips against his hard member. He didn't even think she realized what she was doing to him. This woman knew how to test his self-control like no one else because goddamnit he really just wanted to fuck her until she couldn't walk for a week.

"What do you want?" he whispered.

"Your cock," she replies, her voice husky. "Please."

"Since you asked so nicely…" He happily obliged her and sheathed himself in her with a thrust. She moaned and raised her hips eagerly. It was like burning—initially, pain, a few more moments, and indescribable pleasure. Raven opened her mouth to scream, but a hand was clasped over it, one finger shoved between her lips. The same one he had used earlier. She could taste herself on her lips, bitter but somehow so sweet; instinctively, she began to suck. Her eyes closed and she thrust back to him, her groans muffled by his hand.

He had her pinned up against the wall, all his to control, all his to command. She felt so helpless, so used.

She loved it.

His thrusts were quick and moderate at first, but the longer he went, the harder and slower they got. Deliberate, intense. Her legs were shaking, her back ached, and her arms were trembling horribly.

"Slade," she groaned. "Please."

"Please do what, little bird?" He tried to keep his voice steady, but then Raven fixed him with that gaze of hers and fuck self-control and fuck whatever else was holding him back because she was now his.

"Fuck me." As soon as she said those words, she felt him push her up against the wall and begin give her exactly what she needed. She was fucked by him until her body felt like it would break. Slade found his release with her, and they both come with a quivering sensation that brought a roaring rush to both of their ears.

When they finished, he pulled out and caught her before she could fall. He seemed…gentle as he leaned her panting form against the wall. Placing her cloak on her shivering shoulders, Slade gave her one last final look.

"Good bye, little bird."

And then he was gone. She quickly followed.

The dreams didn't.

(But they both had a feeling that Trigon didn't have anything to do with that.)

It was a one-time thing, or so they thought, because if they didn't do this at least once, they were going to go mad. Slade was sick of having a raging boner every time he saw a picture of her, and she was done with fantasizing what he was hiding underneath all that armor.

They fuck. Again.

They couldn't help it.

(It was one-time thing, they told themselves.)

It was in the way he moved with his muscles rippling with every step and his authority that followed him like a second skin. She kept waking up to his commanding baritone telling her to keep her "Ass out, legs spread, hands on the wall." Kept dreaming about how he would tear off her clothes and lay her bare and fuck her until his fingers leave bruises.

It was in the way her eyes burned as she cast her spells, the way she was power and beauty and dangerous all rolled up in one. He kept finding excuses to take out her panties that smell so her—so many excuses that he found himself becoming best friends with his left hand as he imagined her parted lips begging him for his cock.

It was about want. It was about need.

And that was how they found themselves in a broom closet.

This time, Slade wasn't gentle because fuck, he had to have her. Their breaths came in shallow gasps and pants as he took her again and again.

This time, Raven was no longer nervous and giving as good as she got. Though Slade was insistent on keeping the mask on, her teeth found their way to his neck and left a trail of love-bites in their wake.

They fuck.

They left bruises and blisters and broken skin. She threw her head back, and he snarled into the crook of her neck, and they lost themselves to the intoxicating pleasure they've discovered in each other.

They fuck. Again.

Again. And again. And again.

It was one-time thing, they told themselves.

It was just sex.

It didn't start out that way. Hell, it wasn't supposed to start out at all, but when was it ever supposed to?

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

(They thought it was a bad habit—at first. It took them ages to realize that it was an addiction.)

Thank you for reading!

Sorry if people are a bit OOC. I made Slade a bit softer about banging Raven because I feel like he should be, especially in this situation. Besides, he likes to play with his food before he eats it. This Slade is kind of a mix of his comic and show characterization. But don't worry, he's still Slade. He'll get his: Her body, my control thingie in Chapter 3.

Questions? Comments? Constructive criticism? Type something in that cute little box and leave a review!