A/N: Happy B-day Corrosive Moon (August 23)!

This is a freestanding story but what can this genre be called… ? Hmmm… It's partly AU (Robin's part) and it's not dark, exactly, but most of it isn't exactly very fluffy either… ;)

Work of Art

As soon as Slade saw him the man knew he had to have him. The young man was stunningly beautiful in all his naked glory. He had a small smile on his lips and luscious locks of hair framing a delicate, yet strong face. His torso was finely muscled, the soft manhood which rested between his legs was very well proportioned and, as Slade circled him, the young man's rounded, firm buttocks completed the masterpiece.

"You are interested in the statue, Sir?" the owner of the small antique-shop asked. The old, slightly hunched, man had shuffled over on soft slippers and Slade startled, which really proved how engrossed he had been in the art piece.

"What can you tell me about him?" the mercenary asked, not denying but not exactly affirming his interests. The truth was that he had been just walking by and spotted the statue through the window and, for once in his life, he had just stopped dead, unable to continue until he had found out more.

"It's marble, from the second century BC, Greece, and it has all its papers in order. As you can see, he's life-sized, though because of the base he looked a little taller than he really is. As he doesn't have any attributes he's thought to be a depiction of a live young man rather than a god, which is a bit unusual. A survey has concluded that he once was painted, like many ancient Greek statues, and the pigments found suggests that his hair used to be black and his eyes blue, which must be very unusual and that's another reason that it's thought that he's a portrait."

Slade's eye had spotted something else.

"What about the inscription?"

"Ah, another interesting feature!" the shop owner exclaimed. "But confusing, as well… It's crudely made, so it can't possibly be done by the artist behind this masterpiece, and signs suggest that it was done long after it was finished… The last part is barely visible, as you can see. I think it says 'red', but no red pigments have been found on his skin or anywhere else. Maybe it's an owners-mark or the name of the room or house the statue belonged to…"

"It's his name."

"Sir?" the old man blinked behind his glasses.

"Erythro means 'red', yes, but the word is longer than that. Also, and owner wouldn't mare the front of the statue with something that wasn't essential, and who this boy is, is essential. It says erythakos. That's the ancient Greek name for the European Robin. If it truly was his name or if the statue was named by someone I don't know, but this is Erythakos. Robin."

"That's… that's…. yes, that might be possible, I'm not fluent in ancient Greek after all… very interesting indeed…" the man looked like he wanted to hit the books or at least make a few calls.

"How much?"

"He… he's quite valuable, you understand. The price is on the base. Thirty thousand pounds."

"You'll get fifteen."

"Sir, I really can't part with him for less than twenty five," the old man insisted, and blinked behind his thick glasses.

Slade smirked. The man was honest, he could see that. Almost reluctant to sell. But Slade was determined to buy.

"Twenty and you'll get paid in full at once."

"Well… I. Yes," the shop keeper finally gave in.

"Good." Slade withdrew a business card from his wallet and handed to the man. "I want him delivered to this address by the afternoon. Let's make the transaction, shall we?"

That evening the statue found a new home, standing in a niche in a large bedroom with stone walls and high, painted windows.

Slade knew it was a bit unorthodox, even frowned at but some, to live in a converted church, but that's why he liked his British base quite a lot. He had bought it only a few years ago and it was not yet fully decorated, so, in that light, he could justify the buy to himself. Placing the statue in his bedroom, however… well, the niche had been empty, and he found it hard to stop looking at it.

"Goodnight Robin," he grinned, tracing a finger over the young man's cheek. He felt a little bit sheepish, yes, but he couldn't help himself. He made the promise to himself to go down to the local pub tomorrow night and pick someone up. Lusting after a piece of stone, not matter how finely carved, was really pathetic.

Robin blinked once, twice, as the curse left his body, turning it from cold stone to hot flesh. He took a deep, deep breath. It had been so long. So incredibly long. He remembered the day he had been cursed clearly… He had been hunting in the forest and come to a small clear lake where he had decided to bathe, as the day was so hot. When he returned to the shore a man was standing by his clothes, smiling at him, but Robin had seen at once that this was no mortal man. It was a god. And to make things worse, it was the king of gods, Zeus. The young man might have never actually met a god before, but he had heard enough stories to know that when Zeus had that look in his eyes he only wanted one thing.

The deity had gestured for him to come closer but Robin had shaken his head. He didn't mind being the lover of an older man, of course not, but he was proud enough to feel that he deserved a man who only had eyes for him, and wouldn't run after the next nymph he saw… and Zeus was far from faithful.

Unfortunately, he was also easily offended. After being refused again and again, the god cursed the young man into stone, delicately painted, to be able to touch and admire as he pleased.

"Only your name and a touch, filled with desire, will awaken you," the god had told him. "But only at night, to suit your new status." Zeus's fickle interest soon made him forget the statue in the forest, however. He never returned to claim him and Robin was left there, alone.

The god had turned everything to stone but his mind and his senses. At first the young man felt it was a curse, locked in his own body, but in that forest others of Zeus's lovers had taken pity on him. They had spoken to him, kept him company, until he, somehow, learned to accept his prison, and soon the years seemed like days.

Eventually he was found and taken to a temple. Someone remembered an old tale of a young, beautiful blue eyed hunter who had disappeared long ago and engraved his name on the base. He saw many strange places and was touched by many men and women, but not in the right way. Soon it seemed even his name, or the ability to read it, was forgotten. For long periods of time he was packed away in crates or placed in dark rooms, but every now and then he was brought back out into the light to be admired once more. His colors had long since faded but that didn't seem to make the people admire him any less. Robin found himself fascinated with his visitors, the way they changed over the centuries and all the different languages he heard and learned. For over fifty years that language had mainly been English and he was now quite fluent in it. He had enjoyed the little shop which he had spent about a month in, he knew that he would soon have a new owner… and he had spotted him through the window as he was walking by…

But now… Robin, he had accepted his new name as soon as he had heard it, as it was a direct translation, took another breath and turned his head toward the bed where the man was sleeping. Only a thin sheet covered the lower part of his body, twisted loosely around a leg as the man had turned over in his sleep. He had thought he had been able to see before, but his memories of true sight must have faded over the years, because there were so much more color and detail in the world now… and speaking of color, his skin was no longer alabaster white but a golden tan, and the hair which fell in front of his eyes was as black as he remembered it to be.

He took a careful step forward, away from the ground which had turned to stone with him and which he had been standing on since then. His feet met wide, polished wooden planks, the sensation almost overwhelming. He quietly walked over to the large bed, mindful of not disturbing the man in it and just stood there, admiring his beauty.

He was torn between an urge to run away and to come closer. This man had broken the spell, which meant he desired him. This frightened the young man, as much as it excited him. The urge to touch, as he had had only been touched himself, was growing too strong, however. So was the urge to see. Everything. He tugged carefully on the soft sheet and it slid off the body. The man, Robin didn't know his name, simply slept on.

He didn't dare go closer, no matter how much he wanted to, and instead backed away slowly, fleeing into the next room to try to make up his mind and gather his courage.

Slade had woken up from faint footsteps on the oak floor. He had simply opened his eye just enough to see a silhouette of a slender person coming towards his bed. He had stayed still even as the sheets were pulled from his body. Some assassins were just too damn curious. The 'assassin' didn't exactly attack, though, but instead backed away with a faint gasp. Not a killer then. A thief? A very curious and somewhat perverted thief, if so. As the shadow left the room, Slade decided to follow. After all, this might save him a trip to the pub if the intruder was clever enough to bargain for the chance to get out of here alive.

As he stood up, however, he froze. The statue was gone. How? The base was still there, it was like it had just -he glanced at the bedroom door- walked off?

He had seen men and women painted as statues of course, some pretty convincingly… was this a way to break into people's houses? But surely he would have discovered the truth? He guessed the statue at the shop could have been a real one, and a fake one had been delivered, but he had stood eye to eye with it… maybe it was a robot, made to look like stone? That idea was impressive, but Slade still couldn't really commit to it as he followed the would-be thief, or perhaps spy, into his private study.

Instead of going for the computer, which stood openly on the desk, or for the drawers, the thief had stopped to touch the drapes and then admire the painted windows. He didn't seem to be armed, obviously, as he was naked, and Slade picked up the sound of a small gasp as fingertips touched the cool glass panes.

The man couldn't possibly let this go on any longer.

"Who are you?"

Robin spun around at the suddenly barked question, a small sound of distress escaping his lips. He had been a hunter, yes, but the overflow of sensations he was experiencing now ironically almost turned him deaf and blind; there were just too many of them to sort through.

"You… you know my name," he couldn't help but object, as that was part of what had set him free.

"Robin?"

"In your language, yes."

"Do you know who I am?" the man had come closer now. He had a stern, hard face and a dangerous look in his eye, but, somehow, the young man couldn't find it in him to be really afraid. Not of that side of him anyway.

"No. I never heard your name, but thank you."

"Thank you?"

"You gave me life again… please don't be afraid?"

The man snorted as he stood before the youngster. They were both naked and both were unbothered by this fact, not even really realizing it.

"I'm not afraid, boy. Are you saying that you are the statue?"

"Yes. I understand if this is hard to believe," Robin said softly, the sensation of making sounds, and foreign sounds at that, was strange to him. It almost tickled. "The world of today… it has forgotten the magic of the gods and what they could do."

Slade smirked a little, and now Robin's heart beat faster again.

"I've seen my share of strange things, trust me. Now, if you want to live I suggest you tell me everything."

Slade studied the young man carefully, but every word he said was, if not true, then at least this 'Robin' thought it was. In the end Slade could conclude that either Zeus had cursed this young man, or he had been thoroughly brainwashed into believing so. And that still didn't explain what happened to the real statue, because the young man's, or teen's, body was clearly not painted to look like marble.

"And you don't know who I am?" he asked again,

"All I know is that you spoke my name, and that you… desire me." The answer was a little shaky but not from deceit, and the last part almost made Slade want to look down, in case he had gotten hard without noticing it.

"What makes you think that?" he asked steadily.

"It's the only way I can be awakened," Robin answered. He had a lingering blush on his cheeks, and Slade had no problem imagining the god's lust for him, nor his anger at being rejected. A small smirk came to his lips.

Robin's eyes widened as he saw the man's expression change from thoughtful to… something else. Something that had everything to do with predator and prey, but, for once, Robin wasn't the hunter. He swallowed as the man came even closer, so close that he could feel the heat from his body.

"Well, Robin… I don't think a mere 'thank you' will suffice, do you? Care to show me how grateful you are?"

"I… I don't think…" Robin mumbled and backed away, only to have the desk block his way.

"Now, boy, haven't you learned what happens when you deny a man?"

"You...You are a man, though! Not a god!" the teen objected. Being so close to the tall, muscular naked male made his own body shiver and tingle in a way he couldn't remember that it ever had done before.

"Am I now?" the predator smirked and reached behind the trembling youth to pick up a sharp letter opener from the desk. Before Robin could even get scared that the man might stab him, he instead slashed at his own arm, leaving a bleeding gash behind. A gash which healed in front of the teen's eyes.

Robin gasped.

"You- you're a god?"

"I'm close enough for you not to try my patience, I think," the man purred.

The teen swallowed.

"I… I didn't mean to offend you…"

"Good. No offence taken, then," Slade answered but still didn't move away. "Tell me, my little Robin… why did you refuse a god?"

"He…" the young man looked down and blushed deeper. "I was proud. I knew I was beautiful… And Zeus just wanted that beauty for the moment… I don't believe men treasure what they easily gain," the young man said and smashed a glass paperweight into the side of Slade's head.

As Robin rolled back over the desk and fled, he would hear the man curse darkly behind him and soon follow in his footsteps. The hunter was quick, though. He had once run down a deer in the forest, and he could give the man a challenge. The house, and houses like this in general, was a mystery to him however, and he often opened doors that didn't seem to lead anywhere, just tiny rooms full of clothes or boxes. He didn't know how to open windows and no doors seemed to lead outside. He had just found one leading to a landing of some sorts, which went all around an open space. Robin looked down to see a stone floor far below and, on the opposite side of where he was, there was a set of stairs. He was on a second floor, above ground! That was why he couldn't find the front door, it must be down there.

"I wouldn't try to leave."

Robin's head snapped in the direction of the voice. The man looked no worse for wear, not even a bruise on him. He was standing near the stairs, blocking the way out. Robin was trying to think of his next step when the lovely painted windows seemed to lit up and the first rays of the sunrise bathed him in warm, wonderful light. The young man couldn't help but smile at the warmth and beauty, but the next second he gasped. It wasn't warm! It was cold! And he couldn't move and- everything went dark.

When he could see again, he was back in the man's bedroom, on his stand, in the position he had been frozen in for so many years. He wanted to scream but he couldn't, and, comparing to what his senses had been just a moment ago, he felt half blind and deaf.

The man entered the room a little while later and just stood there, studying him, before he left once more. Frustrated, angry and scared, Robin closed off from the outside world. He had learned to do that, long ago, to be able to handle long periods of solitude, and it was as close to sleep he could get. He 'woke up' to a touch.

"Good evening, Robin. Rise and shine."

The transformation was quicker this time and he felt the curse flow out of him, leaving life behind. He blinked and looked around. Then he had to blink again.

"What..?" he asked, seeing a table full of food and fresh fruits. That definitely hadn't been in the man's bedroom last night. The man himself was already sitting at it, leaning back in the armchair and twirling a glass of blood red wine which made Robin wet his lips in anticipation of the taste. He was dressed now, but only in a knee-length silky-looking robe, which was hanging open to reveal what must be this era's version of undergarments. Robin didn't know if he would have preferred more clothes or less, because no matter how big of a threat the male was, his body was still beautiful.

"It occurred to me that we might have gotten off on the wrong foot…" the man smiled, although the smile still reminded the teen of a wolf. "And I suspect that you haven't had much to eat for the last two and a half thousand years, so perhaps a bit of supper…?"

"How… how did I get back here?" Robin asked carefully.

"Teleportation-magic, it seems. You began turning back to stone and suddenly you were gone. Quite impressive that the magic has lasted for so long…"

"Does magic wear out?" the teen half asked, half chuckled, and the man raised an eyebrow.

"It's not often I get a question I can't answer. Maybe it doesn't. It's just easy to think of power like a battery…"

Robin didn't understand all that. He and learned general English, yes, and he had even been placed in a curator's office for about ten years, and seen computers being introduced and used, but no one really explained things to a statue, after all. It was a very good thing that historians and archeologist tended to mumble to themselves when they worked. One old man had even discussed things with him, but he was replaced soon after.

"Take a seat. Please. There's a robe for you on the chair, if you feel cruel enough to deny me your beauty."

Robin shot the man a haughty glare, because the invitation hadn't been a question. The 'please' was just tacked on to it like an extra barb. Still, the smells from the table made his mouth water, and he was feeling cruel, so he quickly slid the robe on and tied it carefully. The fabric felt like water against his skin and he almost regretted putting it on as his heightened senses found it very pleasurable. Before giving in completely, however, the young hunter had to make one thing clear.

"Do you give your word that you will not…" Robin searched for the correct English word, but came up a bit short. "…take me?"

"I can't do that. I plan to 'take' you. But eventually. And hopefully not against your will," the man shrugged and gestured at the other chair once more. "Sit."

"You seem… honest, at least," the teen muttered as he did as he was asked. "But I don't even know your name?"

"Slade. Slade Wilson. Do you prefer bird or fish?" he then asked and took the lids off the platters and bowls on the table.

"That bird look amazing," Robin gaped at the roasted piece of meat.

"Chicken it is," Slade nodded and began to carve several large pieces for his guest. "You can never have tasted potatoes, but they are pealed, boiled roots," he continued and showed the teen the bowl. "The sauce here goes with the chicken. Most of the vegetables you should be familiar with?"

"Yes," Robin nodded. "Strange roots," he added as he helped himself to one of the 'potatoes'.

"I'm not sure a living statue can pass judgment," the man chuckled, and the teen couldn't help but smile a little himself.

"Maybe I was being… hasty," he agreed and accepted a glass of wine from the man.

Slade found himself mostly ignored as Robin began eating, obviously savoring each bite to an almost erotic extent. The man couldn't say that he minded the lack of conversation when he got to watch that. As soon as he had seen the young man he had felt drawn to him and there was nothing to stop him from throwing the boy down on the bed and 'take' him, right now. No one knew he even existed, after all, he had no friends or family, and he would never be able to survive out there on his own. He was helpless. Well. Almost helpless, considering Slade had gone to bed with a headache this morning. Still, the boy had been right about something… he could have him easily, but 'easy' rarely appealed to Slade. There was no challenge there. He loved a challenge. And seducing this nubile Greek youth might just be the entertainment he had been looking for, as he needed to lay low right now. Besides, the teen was fascinating beyond his purely physical assets. He had been alive, more or less, for over two millennia… the things he had seen! Even if there were only ordinary things, even if the boy might not understand all of it… how could they ever run out of things to talk about? Truthfully, though, talking was not really what he wanted to do right now, as the boy popped a whole cherry-tomato into his mouth and chewed slowly, an appreciative sound, close to a moan, emitting from his lips. Slade wanted to make the boy moan as well. He took a deep breath, however, and steeled himself. Not tonight. He had to move slower with this creature.

Robin could feel the man's eye on him. It was both exciting and scary, and the teen didn't quite know how to deal with it. Maybe his new owner had been right, maybe it would be proper to show his gratitude in a carnal way, if that was what this 'Slade' desired, but then what? He suddenly had a future which involved more than observing centuries go by, he finally had his life back… that had to be more important than what the man wanted, after all. On the other hand, he needed him to wake up, didn't he?

"What happened to your eye?" Robin suddenly heard himself asking, the black patch having been a source of curiosity since he had first seen it.

"Shooting accident."

"An arrow?" Robin blinked, thinking that the man's powers must be great to be able to survive something like that.

"A gun."

"Gun?"

"A modern time weapon. Would you like dessert?"

"Maybe. Depends on what that is," the youth answered carefully, making the man laugh.

"It's a sweet food, served after the main meal."

"Ah, I see. I know what you mean," Robin nodded. "Then yes. I'd like… dessert?"

Slade nodded and left the room. The teen looked around, wondering if he should take this opportunity to try to leave again, after all, he even had clothes now, but he had a feeling that he was being tested and didn't want to end up being locked up or bound, so he stayed in his seat, nibbling on a chicken bone.

The man returned with a cup of what he called ice cream, and Robin became convinced that the cold treat must have come directly from the gods. It was gone all too soon, however, and the youth glanced up at the man hesitantly, wondering what was next. He didn't have to worry, though, as they merely talked for the rest of the night.

The days, or rather nights, passed, always beginning with something to eat. Robin began to slowly relax in the man's presence, and even though he always was offered a robe, he sometimes forgot to put it on. Slade told him about the world of today and answered all his questions patiently, but he refused to take him outside yet. He did, on the other hand, show him the bathroom and the shower. Robin was fascinated with the hot water raining down on his hand as he reached inside.

"Would you like me to show you how to use it?" Slade asked, and the teen merely nodded. Within a blink of an eye, it seemed, they were both wet and naked, the man running soapy hands up and down the teen's body.

"Is this… always done together?" Robin asked, trying to control his body.

"Yes," the man answered simply.

The teen wasn't sure he believed him, but he mimicked the man's moves, his fingers gliding over wet, firm muscles, the scent of the soap reminding him of his beloved woods. Heady with the sensations he lifted his face and, suddenly, the man's lips met his.

Robin had never known kissing like this. It was like it was just a hairsbreadth away from actually having sex; so intimate, wild and full of desire. He was about to whisper to the man to take him when he suddenly felt the familiar coldness spread through him.

"No… no, not now…" he groaned. "Slade… morning…" And then blackness.

When he could see again, Slade was standing in front of him, in the bedroom, dripping wet with a towel around his middle.

"Tease," the man growled.

Robin chuckled to himself, but couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for them both.

The next night Robin opened his human eyes and gasped, his heart skipping a few beats. Slade wasn't at the table, but stretched out on the bed, smirking at him. Naked.

"Come to bed, Robin. I think we've waited long enough, don't you?"

The teen swallowed nervously but nodded. Over the last couple of days he had been more and more convinced that this was what he ultimately wanted. He left his dais and slowly walked across the wooden floor to the side of the bed, where he hesitated a little bit. Slade wouldn't accept that, of course, and grabbed the teen's arm, pulling him down on the mattress next to him, shifting so his body caged him in.

Robin felt a flash of fear, but meeting the man's eye, he couldn't sense any malevolence in it, merely lust, and he felt quite a bit of that himself. They kissed again and the heat seemed to almost explode in the teen's body, making him arch and wind his legs around the man's hips, grinding their now hard cocks together.

Slade was very much to the point and after kissing the teen's neck and chest, he flicked open a small bottle of lubricant and made sure to cover his erection with the slick substance.

Robin tensed slightly as he felt the tip of the man's cock prodding his opening, but he was too proud to ask the man to take it slow. He was not used to showing weakness and he wouldn't do it now either. He couldn't help but gasp as the pressure increased, however, but a small bite on his nipple made him forget about it. The next second the shaft was buried inside him to the hilt and Robin dug his fingers into the man's back, crying out from the burn of the stretch. He almost hyperventilated, beads of sweat breaking out all over his body, but Slade wouldn't give him any time to get used to the intrusion. The man slowly pulled almost all the way out of him, took a firm hold of Robin's knees, bending his legs up against the teen's shoulder, got in a better position and then plunged in again.

Robin, almost folded in half, was stuck helplessly accepting what Slade gave him, having no control over how deep or how fast the man took him. And Slade liked it deep and fast. As he was no longer able to reach the man's back, Robin clutched at the sheets instead, fighting his pride for the urge to beg. He was about to give in when the pain and discomfort started to fade away and other sensations, much more pleasurable ones, took their place. He pushed against the man, lifting his ass just a little bit more and then-

"Ahhh!" The pain completely forgotten now, as something inside him seemed to explode with pleasure. "Y-yes… I… Slade!"

The man merely grunted, but there was a hint of a leer on his lips as he intensified his efforts and the thrusts became harder, almost reddening Robin's skin where their bodies slammed together. The teen keened from the added force, groaning and mewling, making sounds that didn't even sound quite human as his climax built. He was sure he was going to die, break apart like brittle stone under a too rough chisel, but it felt like a very good way to leave this world.

Slade had, at some point, let go of his legs, but they were now wound around the man again, drawing him in almost as much as the man's own thrusts did. A hand closing around his length pushed the young man over the edge quite violently and the old church they were in must have wondered over the sounds echoing through it that night.

Robin had trouble catching his breath; somehow most of the oxygen seemed to disappear on the way down to his lungs. He was on his side, the man behind him, his hand caressing the teen's hip, almost thoughtfully.

"That… was…" Robin tried to speak, amazement and a little bit of regret in his voice. Regret that it was over so soon.

"That was the first time of many. The night is young," the man chuckled low in his ear, seemingly having picked up on the wistfulness.

"It… is?"

"For twenty thousand pounds and bringing you back to life, I would say you owe me quite a few fucks, yes."

"Fucks? I have heard that word… is this what it means?"

"Among other things. It's a common curse-word, as well."

"Huh… I know about curses… this is not a curse," the teen murmured. "Anyway, that was not what I was going to say… I was going to say 'that was what Zeus would have done to me?'… Because I think I was a fool to turn that down…"

"No, you weren't… you made the right choice," Slade told him, his hand tightening on the teen's hip as his arousal began to grow anew between Robin's cheeks. "After all, what is the King of Gods compared to me?"

Robin chuckled and wriggled his ass teasingly against the man.

"Zeus had many faults," he admitted to his lover. "But I don't think he was ever that full of himself…"

The End

A/N: Thank you to Valkyria Raven for the ancient Greek word for Robin! (the modern name, she taught me, is kokkinolaimis, if anyone's interested! Sounds kinda cute… and the double 'k' reminds me of Finnish… ;)

The prompt for this story was: "How about a free-standing story where Robin is an artwork that

comes to life and Slade is unaware of it when he procures him?". Very good prompt, don't you think? And I hope you thought the story made it justice…

Not there will be a longer pause in the updates. In September there's only one drabble and one pic and both late in the month. I will spend my "free" time working on the Christmas drabble, which is really needed… I'll also contact the October b-day kids soon. If you have booked your B-day in October, make sure to check your mail now and then, or contact ME with your wish. Sequels and freestanding drabbles, no crossovers, preferably not any "new" characters is what you can wish for and, when it comes to pics, they need to be within the regulations of dA…