Disclaimer: The Teen Titans, Batman and everything else in the DC universe is not mine… I weep as I write this.
A/N: Warnings: Dark!
This won the vote, but first to five was surprisingly even… but, yay, finally time for some dark! I don't write dark as well, or at least as EASY as I write lighter/funnier/crazy stuff… I have a few more murky stories for you, but most will be crack and fluff this year… It just turned out that way….
Christmas Indulgences
Robin looked around, smiling at the guests who were milling around him in Wayne Manor. He was in Gotham for a visit over the holidays, and tonight Bruce held his annual Christmas party. The place looked amazing, decorated for the holiday in a glittery, yet tasteful fashion, which only Alfred could achieve. The party was held in the main downstairs entrance hall, a grand room with fireplaces on to each side, and the curved double staircases winding their way upwards. Those staircases had been closed off with a delicate silk rope, to not encourage curious visitors to go exploring into the less public areas of the manor. Even the immense chandelier had been lowered, so it now only shed its light on the first floor, leaving the two landings above the staircases in deep shadow.
"Richard, stop daydreaming and do pay attention to our guests."
Robin almost jumped, as Bruce had appeared rather unexpectedly.
"Of course, Bruce, just admiring the decorations." Robin smiled. The man muttered something and was off, after quickly straightening Robin's already immaculate tie.
The teen sighed to himself. Bruce was always like this when they had guests. Snappish and rather unpleasant. It was like he expected Robin to run amok any second, and, Robin guessed, it might have some historical value… when he was little, he had hated these things, a lot of grownups talking about things over his head, and he was just supposed to stand there and behave. That was a very difficult thing to do for a nine-year old. He was sixteen now, however, and he knew how to behave, knew how to make small talk, and there were even some guests around his own age, sons and daughters to important members of the city. Robin guessed that Bruce behaved this way because he, himself, hated these things. Bruce was a very private man, but the time in Jump had made Robin, if not extremely sociable, at least able to enjoy the company of others.
The dinner was still an hour away, and waiters moved fluently around the room, serving snacks and drinks. There was a small, live band of violinists, playing classical music in a corner, and Robin found himself naming the pieces in his head, as he was talking to a lovely middle age woman, who was, subtly but persistently, trying to marry him off to her daughter. Robin amusedly wondered if she would offer her son, if he asked… money and power, after all, was more important than sexual orientation. Robin tried to stifle a grin as he imagined the woman telling her boy to 'lie back and think of England' or something equally preposterous. He mentally shook his head; it wasn't exactly wise to let his mind wander down such a dirty path in the middle of a party. He was sixteen, though, he couldn't help it. Sex, in every form, seemed to be constantly on his mind.
Suddenly his eye caught a shadow moving on top of the first landing, and he snapped back to being Robin the Boy Wonder again. He politely excused himself, and snuck up the stairs quietly, stepping over the silk rope. Arriving at the first landing, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The doors on both sides were locked, he knew, but he tried them anyway. Then he stood and listened, expecting to hear a creak from upstairs, but all was silent.
It was probably a curious teen, he figured, or an older guest who had had a few too many drinks already (there was always one, wasn't there?) and was looking for the bathroom. It was dark here, and it became even darker as he continued up the next set of stairs to the second landing. He didn't want to switch the lights on, to draw attention from downstairs. It would be mortifying for the guest, after all, and, even though he or she was in the wrong here, Robin thought it would be better to forgive and forget than publicly humiliate them.
As he reached the top landing he regretted not turning on the light. Every door was closed here as well, and the shadows were pitch black. He took a few steps forward.
"Hello? Anyone there? I'm sorry, but you'll have to come downstairs with me."
Suddenly an arm was around his throat and he was pinned to a wide, hard chest.
"Oh, I don't think you'd want that… would you, Robin…?"
The voice, and the fact that his identity was known, made Robin freeze for a second. Slade.
"I… I'm Richard! Let me go!" he demanded, but it was much too late. The man behind him chuckled.
"Nice try, my little bird, but useless. I have known about your, and your guardian's, identities for quite some time now."
"What do you want, Slade?" Robin growled, clutching the arm which threatened to crush his wind-pipe.
"Oh, I'm just here for business…" the man said, and started pushing him towards the balustrade. Robin panicked, thinking the man was going to push him over the side, but the next second, he almost wished that that had really been his plan. Slade's other arm came into view, and Robin gasped as he saw that the man was holding a gun with a big silencer, and it was aimed at the people below.
"No!" Robin croaked, trying to kick the man with his heels, but dress-shoes didn't have a chance against the mercenary's armor. He hated the fact that the man could simply pin him like this, one handed, and he wished he had had his belt. The man would have a sharp bird-a-rang in his arm so fast…
"How many do you think I could take out, before it is noticed?" Slade asked, like he was commenting the music. "It is a large room, after all, with many people, and I guarantee that the gun won't make a sound. A few guests collapsing far from each other…? Might take a while to understand what is happening… or, maybe I should just go for the host, directly?" the gun swirled, and, as Robin followed its direction, he saw Bruce, talking, with that fake smile on his lips he used around people he didn't like but still felt the need to be courteous with.
"No!" Robin gasped again.
"No? Oh, well… be quiet, and I won't ruin your little party… Well, not for them…"
Robin didn't understand what the man could possibly mean by that, but as he was about to ask, Slade put away the gun. Then, the now free hand was on Robin's hip.
"What… what are you doing?" Robin stuttered, as the man's fingers seemed to knead his hip through the thin, cotton dress-pants.
"This is the time of year for indulgence, Robin… and congratulations… you're mine."
Robin gasped and tried to twist away violently, but, in an instant, the gun was back, pointing at the unsuspecting people, two stories down.
"So it's one of them, then? Who to pick…?" Slade seemed to have a hard time making up his mind.
"No! Don't! Stop!" Robin hissed.
"Changed you mind, have you? Well, then…" The man's hand was empty once more, but was soon busy with Robin's thin, leather belt, opening it deftly. The top button of his trousers came next, but as the man reached Robin's fly, the teen twitched and whimpered.
"Please Slade, stop… not this, please!"
"So who dies?" Slade asked coldly. "I'll even let you choose. You can pick someone really old… or someone you don't like, perhaps? I'm sure there are several of both categories down there…"
Robin merely shook his head. He wanted to threaten the man, scream, bite, anything, but he had never been in this situation before, and, if he drew attention to himself, people would die. He bit his lip as Slade unzipped his pants, and Robin had never felt more vulnerable than when they fell to his ankles.
"Step out of them. Good. Push them backwards with your feet. Good boy."
Robin obeyed like he was in a daze, and then he felt cold air on his behind, as Slade slipped his underwear off as well. Once again, he was ordered to remove the piece of clothing completely, and, once again, Robin obeyed. Robin yelped as Slade's hand, now gloveless, suddenly caressed his privates.
"Hmmm... not hard, not that I expected that…" Robin could feel the man's breath on his neck as Slade bent down slightly to whisper to him, his voice somewhat distorted by his metal mask. "I might show you a thing or two another day, though, my bird… out of gratitude…" the man chuckled.
"I… I'll never let you touch me again!" Robin snarled.
"Oh… so you are to rid the world of people to protect?" Slade sneered. "I'm very willing to help. Tonight, however… I only came for you." Robin winced in pain as his feet were kicked apart by one of Slade's heavy boots, and then his neck was released. Before he could make a move, however, he was pressed forward over the banister, and he grabbed on to it in panic. A hand on his upper back kept him in place, but Robin could have easily gotten away in this position, if it weren't for the gun, once again ready to be used.
"Don't move, don't scream. They can't hear you whimper, but if someone as much as looks up towards us…" Slade threatened.
Robin stood still. He closed his eyes, waiting. He couldn't believe this was happening, but it was. There was no way out. He felt a hand caressing his buttocks, and he gripped the banister harder as the hand disappeared, and he heard the sound of a zipper. All of a sudden, something big and slick pressed against his entrance, and Robin tensed.
"Wait! Sh-shouldn't you… you know… prepare me?" he asked, or rather begged, tremblingly.
"Why would I want to make you less tight?" Slade asked with dark laugh. "In case you are confused, I am raping you, not making love to you. Be glad I used lubrication."
"But… but I've never… you can't… AH!" Robin quickly slapped his hand over his mouth, stopping the sound. The man had kept pressing against him, and, just like that, his muscles gave away.
"There… that's a good boy…" Slade purred, both his hands holding on to Robin's hips firmly.
Robin clung to the banister in shock, as pain shot up his spine. He was hyperventilating, sobbing, as Slade started to slam into him again and again, and yet he tried to stifle the sounds so as not to alert anyone below. The old oak railing was so sturdy it didn't even creak as Robin was slammed helplessly against it, again and again, bruising his chest and stomach.
The pain only lessened marginally, and even the pressure against his prostate didn't bring anything more than an uncomfortable feeling.
"S-stop… please… please stop!" Robin begged quietly.
"Oh, but you feel so good, Robin… the way you tense and struggle… I'm not going to stop until I'm finished with you…" Slade chuckled coldly.
Robin spotted Bruce downstairs again and unconsciously reached out to him with his hand, hoping that, somehow, the man would miraculously help him. Bruce, of course, never even glanced up.
"Oh, he doesn't see you, Robin. Then again, he never does, does he?" Slade drawled.
The man's movements quickened and Robin felt the pain come back almost as bad as before. Then Slade stiffened, his fingers digging deeply into Robin's narrow hips, leaving angry red marks which would turn into ugly bruises in a few hours. Robin felt the hot wetness of the man's release filling him, the saltiness stinging his abused opening.
Then, suddenly, the man pulled out and let go. Robin collapsed weakly on the carpeted floor, almost blacking out for a moment. As he returned to the present, he was suddenly overwhelmed with fear that Slade would do it again, and he tried to crawl away, not managing much more than to turn around in the narrow space.
He looked up at the man and froze. The gun was pointed right between his eyes.
"S-slade?" his voice sounded weak, but Robin didn't care. The tears were still pouring down his cheeks as he stared death in the face.
"You've been very good, Robin. Now, this will all be over soon. Just close your eyes…"
Robin wanted that. He wanted it to be over. So he obeyed.
He didn't know if it had been seconds or minutes when he realized that he was still alive. He opened his eyes, slowly, and in front of him was only darkness. Slade had left. Robin whimpered and fought to get to his feet. He found his pants and pulled them on, only then noticing that his underwear was missing. He looked around for them, but to no avail. Slade must have taken them. A trophy… a trophy from his little 'indulgence'.
Robin started down the stairs, every step a pain. At the first landing he stopped, wondering where to go, what to do. All the doors were locked, and Alfred had the keys. Besides, Robin didn't want to go anywhere where he might meet Slade again. The man was loose in this house, and the only place the teen was safe was down there, with other people. He took the handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his face, trying to make his breathing normal. Years of training and meditation helped with that.
He rejoined the party quietly, keeping close to the crowd but to himself at the same time.
"There you are! Where have you been hiding?" Bruce suddenly hissed in his ear, making Robin jump terribly.
"I- I wasn't-"
"Look at you! Your suit is wrinkled! And where is your handkerchief? Really, Richard, I'm disappointed in you! All I ask is that you behave for one night, and you manage to look like something the cat dragged in. Maybe I should just send you to your room?"
"No! No, Bruce, I'm… I'm sorry, I… I had a… a bit of an accident. I… spilled…"
"Well get it together! You look pathetic!" the man snorted and stalked away.
Robin glanced into one of the many mirrors lining the walls, and discovered that Bruce had been right. He straightened his back, made sure his tie was straight as well, and forced a plastic smile on to his face. He was pathetic. Weak. Useless. But no one would ever be allowed to know that besides him. Him and Slade.
The End.
A/N: I'm thinking of a follow-up story for this if someone's interested (but, well… you know me… I'll probably write it anyway…) ;) And it will be angsty too, no happy endings… but we'll se, it all depends on… stuff… I just got a first line with no story yet, so… ;)