A/N: Second update for this. Posted this one-shot almost a year ago and recently got the urge to write a sequel to it.

It takes place only a few hours after the first chapter, so it is a direct continuation. So, might be beneficial to reread chapter 1 :)

This story follows the canon events of Teen Titans the cartoon from 2003 (not Teen Titans Go! what the hell even is that show?)

Either way, hope you enjoy. I have no beta, so be weary of grammar mistakes.

It's only a few hours later.

Dick is sitting up in his bed, legs crossed, both his hands clenched together. He's got his chin resting on them as he regards his sleeping companion beside him. The moon is still high in the sky, the time close to 4AM and he's tired. So so tired and sore like, freaking everywhere...and just ugh...he feels gross. But also satisfied too and kind of pleased...and his mind is warring frantically with happiness and disgust at himself.

For his weakness.

For how easy he submitted to Slade. For how much he wanted it. Wanted him. Still wants him.

For...how much he goddamned missed him, the stupid bastard! How ridiculously annoyed he is that it had taken Slade five fucking years to seek him out again.

Dick isn't right in the head, he knows this, but it doesn't stop how he feels.

Slade is actually asleep. Has been for a while now. He isn't snoring, but unless he is an incredibly dedicated pretender, he is out like a light.

Dick doesn't know how to feel about that. That the mercenary apparently feels so comfortable in his presence that he would allow himself to be this vulnerable. He is a bad guy, a dastardly villain, a conniving, strategic and overly guarded individual. He is a killer, with a long ass rap sheet and an even bigger list of people who want him dead...

But here he was, his guard completely dropped and soundly asleep like it wasn't this big, monumental thing that continued to keep Dick awake after he'd woken up by accident earlier.

He had never seen him sleep before and...it is kind of messing with him a little bit. Makes his stomach flutter in weird ways.

Back during their first time together, Dick had passed out relatively quick after all the fun had been over and Slade had been gone when he'd awoken. Even back when he'd spent a few months as the man's apprentice, he'd never seen him sleep or eat or anything that would give away to the fact that a real, human person was behind that intimidating orange and black mask.

He wonders if the man even still has that mask. Knowing that he'd only wore it for his time in Jump City.

He sighs frustrated and blows out a breath of air that makes a few strands of his hair move in his annoyance. He quickly and efficiently removes himself from the bed, throwing on a pair of grey sweatpants while casting a quirked, critical eyebrow at the man who was still in dreamland, completely oblivious to Dick's inner turmoil and thoughts.

It was time to do some snooping.

He spends the next hour in his living room. He's sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaning over his coffee table, with his laptop. His highly advanced, ridiculously illegal laptop that had been created in the Batcave and quickly catches up on all of Slade's business over the last few years.

There isn't too much. Only two people dead in over a dozen jobs, but both of those kills tracked back to less than questionable people who he could concede, were probably better off dead anyway.

To a normal, government funded database, it doesn't look like Slade has been very active at all. But, to a database that had been created by Batman himself there is a lot more information provided.

He finds himself getting lost in the gain, of processing and retaining new information. He'd always been a quick study and it shows as he starts to mutter a bit, putting bits and pieces together and creating a time-line in his head.

As far as he can tell, Slade hasn't done any work around in Dick's part of the country in years. Most of his known targets have actually been overseas, a small stint in Washington as well, which makes Dick's eyebrows furrow with curiosity.

There is nothing too bloody that he can see, but then, Slade had always been more for efficiency than messy anyway. He didn't like to leave a trace, did his jobs with extreme precision and prided himself on being in the shadows and undetectable.

He digs a little deeper and finds nothing much of interest. Most of his jobs the last little while have been mundane, nothing too high profile or violent...which, he isn't sure why that surprises him, really, but it does.

When he finds nothing more of interest in his database, he sighs and ruffles his bedhead with his hand, pulling his sore muscles up from the floor and heading towards his kitchen to get a glass of water. He's leaning up against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest as he drinks, a contemplative frown on his face.

He might have to resort to other means of gathering clues.

There was always the option of using his resources and getting a third party involved, most likely Batman in this case. But, he doesn't really feel like opening that can of worms. Bruce is probably still awake even at five in the morning too and in a normal situation he wouldn't even hesitate. But he decides not to go that route.

He'd never told anyone, not a single living soul, that he'd had a fling with Slade and he is reluctant to get anyone with half a brain involved, because Bruce would see past him immediately.

It's not for shame or embarrassment that he keeps to himself, however, as much as it probably should be the reason.

It is more a feeling of possessiveness that drives him to keep his feelings and complicated relationship with the mercenary on the down low. Slade has always been his problem to deal with. His puzzle to solve. They have always had their secret connection, private and resolute, but very real and personal and deep, in lots of different ways. In ways that no one else has ever understood.

There is no rhyme or reason for why he feels possessive over Slade.

He just does.

Slade is his to figure out...

...and right now, he needs to figure out why the bloody bastard is in Bludhaven, making himself cosy in his apartment.

Dick decides to go with plan C.

He figures that Slade must have come here with some equipment. But, finding where the mercenary has stashed his personal belongings might prove difficult. He could have a safe house somewhere for all Dick knew. Tracking down where he might have set up camp in Bludhaven was doable, but would take time. Time that he really didn't have at the moment, considering the mercenary in question was only a room away.

He doesn't recall seeing anything on Slade when he'd first made himself known, but then...he'd been testing him. Dick remembers that the one-eyed man had initially been waiting for him in his second, spare bedroom. The officer arches an eyebrow towards his hallway and on a hunch, decides to check out the room.

He finds the space empty of anything belonging to Slade and mutters to himself, knowing that it had really just been shot in the dark. Even if the older man had seemingly let his guard down around him, no way in hell would he just leave out sensitive information for Dick to find all easy-like.

"Dammnit," he mumbles, frowning again. There isn't much that he can do without alerting Slade to his plans, so he finds himself back at square one reluctantly, left with more questions than answers. Which is always the way with the mercenary.

He grumbles to himself and decides just to leave it till the morning or er...later today, then, when he can try and grill the man for answers or spread his wings a little more thoroughly researching. Maybe snag his phone and work his magic. But then again, Slade might already be gone by then and he'd be left empty handed.

Either way, he'll figure it out. He almost always does.

He makes a quick pit stop in his bathroom to take a leak, flushing the toilet when he finishes up and turning on the water in his sink to wash his hands.

He glances quickly at himself in the mirror and then does a shocked double-take at himself when he catches his own appearance.

There were marks all over him.

From his neck, to his collarbone, down to his stomach and abs, trailing down in a fiery red blaze of glory to where he knows there are marks on the inside of his thighs. Where Slade had bitten sharp bruises into his skin. Dick's eyes are a little sleepy, but vibrant and blue and looked startlingly bright against the backdrop of his jet black hair, buzz cut up the sides, with spiky pieces lying frizzy from sweat over his forehead.

When he sees the state of himself he curses and turns away sharply, feeling his dick swell up with instant interest and approval and he mutters angrily, immediately on edge from his intense reaction at seeing how Slade had left his marks on him.

The feeling of being gross crawls over him again and his eyes snap quickly to the shower as he shudders a little bit, in arousal or disgust, he isn't sure. But he all of a sudden needs to get clean. He's got the shower on in seconds, humid air already warming the small space as the water gets hot. He slides his sweats down his legs, ignoring the ridiculously obvious red marks on his thighs and slips inside past the curtain, uttering a sound of relief when the water starts to gently soothe his achy muscles.

Goddamn I'm sore...

Everywhere. His burning ass. The bruise on his side. All those tender marks lining his thighs and shoulder. Muscles tense and raw feeling from their heated fight and even more heated fucking...

Plus, throw on top of that the thirteen hour shift he'd done at the station, he was dead on his feet. The only thing that had been keeping him up at the moment had been his mind. But, he's decided to just head back to bed. He is pretty sure that Slade will be gone by the time he's woken up anyway and then...well, he can deal with the aftermath then.

He literally doesn't have the energy anymore to over-analyze this entire evening. It's just going to be another big fat write off anyway. Another stupid, dumb mistake that he'll regret...but never learn from. It's something that he's accepted about himself by now.

He sighs and leans against the tiled wall, arms crossed and head ducked down under the spray of water as he just stands there for a little while, soaking in the feeling of hot relief.

He is only in the shower for few minutes when he feels the barrel of a gun rest heavily against the back of his head.

Time freezes, baron and cold and hollow...for a single moment under the warm spray of water.

Dick feels his lips curve into a small, forlorn smile after his initial reaction. His head is down, water cascading down his shoulders, his face is obscured from the angle and only his lips are visible as he stands there, tense and naked and defenceless.

"Smart," Dick says casual and low toned, small smirk tugging the side of his lips, as the ringing in his ears finally goes away after he focuses back in on the here and now. "Taking me out at my most vulnerable. When I'm run off my feet and cannot easily defend myself." he can't help but chuckle under his breath. "I guess if I were in your shoes, I'd probably decide to go the same way. Easier and more efficient a kill. Less risk of a struggle. At least from someone like me..."

Slade says nothing, just holds the gun heavy and steady against the back of Dick's head. He can't even feel the man's body. Hadn't heard him come into the room or even when he'd approached and got in behind him. He doesn't hear a sound or a heartbeat, nothing at all to indicate that the mercenary was even behind him.

Just the cold, metal barrel, making contact with the back of his skull.

'Never turn your back on the enemy less he get the better of you...'

"Not gonna take me out with your sword, then?" The young officer questions after Slade says nothing, tone quiet, accepting. " Or a simple knife? I guess slitting my throat would be a lot more messy, but, eh...this would be the ideal place to do it, all that blood down the drain...wouldn't be much for cleanup."

He hears the gun cock.

Slade never makes a sound.

Dick just breathes out and feels his eyes brighten a little bit, chuckling darkly. "But, your the expert," he snarks out, callously, "I hope what I feel on that thing is a silencer, because even with the sound of the running water, someone is sure to hear the gunshot. I know you've not met my landlord...but she's a real piece of work."

There is a silky chuckle then, the tone low and dangerous and it makes the hair on Dick's arms raise, even while water continues to beat down on him. "Is that why you think I am here, Robin? Because I took out a contract for your life?"

Dick laughs without humor, licking his lips a little bit. "I dunno, did you? You've got a gun to my head...sooo... you tell me?"

"You think I would kill you? Could kill you?"

"Yes," Dick whispers out, staring hard at the bathroom tile in front of him. "I think your very capable of something like that, yes."

"To you?"

"Why not? I'm just being realistic," Dick says, tone still low, matching the tense atmosphere that had descended upon the bathroom. His blood is boiling.

He wants to say he is surprised.

But really...he's not.

Slade scoffs then, "you think I would have fucked you so thoroughly, had I wanted to kill you?"

"Who the hell knows?" Dick shrugs, a small laugh, fighting the fierce flush that crawls across his face at the man's lewd words. "I have no clue what kind of things you do to get your jollies. For all I know, you sleep with all your jobs. Trust me, if you wanted to, you could."

"Yes," the man confirms, sounding smug. "I could."

Dick feels the gun push harder against his head. "Well?" He questions when a short silence lingers in the air. "What are you waiting for Deathstroke?" He hates that name. So much less personal. A persona in all respects. He supposes in his current predicament, it's fitting, to call him by his alias.

"Hmmm," Slade purrs, like he's waiting for something, "...not what I expected."

Dick makes an annoyed sound. "What? Thought I would fight back?"

"Yes."

"Don't feel like it," he teases lightly, keeping up with their banter. His heart is racing a mile-a-minute. He doesn't want Slade to see how affected he is, but he knows that man's impressive meta-human senses make that almost impossible.

"Oh?"

"Yep, lucky you..." Dick singsongs in a deadpan, "I'm an easy target. Hurrah!"

The officer can practically picture the frown on the man's face at the moment. It makes him feel just a bit smug knowing that he'd done something that Slade hadn't predicted.

"Not afraid to die then, Robin?"

"Nope," he replies.

But then he shakes his head, raven locks sputtering water side-to-side. He sighs harshly and rolls his eyes in annoyance, making a face, even if the man can't see him. "...you don't even have the gun loaded, do you?" Dick questions, turning around to fully face the man, arching an eyebrow. He glances at the gun in Slade's hand for confirmation and sure enough, the handgun that he is holding doesn't even have a clip inside of it. There might still be a bullet in the chamber, but...he doesn't know for certain. "Not gonna kill anyone with that..." he continues, eyes glancing away for a second and pushing the gun away from his face with barely more than a wave motion.

"Oh, believe me, there are plenty of ways to kill someone without the use of a bullet, " Slade is saying, his one eye glittering in mirth. "I can name seven extremely effective ways to off someone, even just from inside this space." Slade is smirking, self-satisfied, while Dick just stands there and frowns as the gun is then lowered and placed at the mercenary's side.

"Oh, I'm sure you could, bastard..." Dick says defensively, still irritated at Slade's bullshit.

"Tell me the truth, for just a second, you believed I had ill-intentions," Slade sounds much too cocky and Dick hates it.

"Whatever." He is then moving closer to the man, staring heatedly into his one-eye and with aggression he reaches behind him and childishly snatches his body wash off the ledge of the tub and scowls at the mercenary who is still watching him intently. "Is your entire visit just going to be attempts to trip me up? Kinda not diggin' it...you definitely used to be more creative." Dick then levels the mercenary with a smug grin of his own, "who was it again who has lost their touch? You getting up there old timer?"

Slade has him pinned to the wall in two seconds flat with his left forearm, the other still holding the gun at his side. It startles Dick so much that he drops the bottle and clams up. It drops to the acrylic between their feet, the sound resonating heavily in the steam-filled air. His blue eyes go wide in surprise as the man has basically pinned him in place against the tile. He feels his heart practically burst from his chest, his eyes flutter and replace with a hooded expression as a jolt of arousal washes unwanted through him.

Slade is eyeing him critically, his one eye so intense that Dick feels pinned in place just by that calculating stare alone.

The officer curses himself, he's always found intelligent competent people attractive. The mercenary's one, singular eye, went deep. It showed just how much experience had taught him. He was a complex equation, a rubix cube of layers, an enigma that always kept you guessing.

Why did Dick have an obsessive need to pry? To uncover? To solve?

It was literally his nature, curiosity.

Why was most of his time spent researching? Picking apart any little detail he could find about anything that interested him. He'd always like problem-solving, making new discoveries and finding out what made something or someone tick.

Slade was a code he'd never been able to crack.

A puzzle that had far too many missing pieces to get a clear picture.

"For one singular moment," the man drawls seductively, voice low, hypnotic, while dragging the head of the cold gun from Dick's chin, down to the fuze of his water-slicked, black happy trail. Dick feels his breathing pick up the lower the metal traces down. Slade's blazing grey eye slithers over him, eye roaming up and down and smirking devilishly when his gaze rests on his hard cock. The officer had been fully hard the moment Slade had pinned him to the wall and he curses himself in his head for forgetting that he was naked. He feels too vulnerable right then, too exposed. But Slade had always had that effect on him. "For one moment...you thought that you'd been had. "

Dick feels himself gulp, but can't quell the rebellious urge to banter back. "I'm a cop Slade, it was easy to tell that the gun wasn't loaded."

"So you say," the man purrs, leaning closer to him and running his tongue up the side of his clavicle, a wet slide up his neck with his prickly beard, until he whispers, directly into his ear in a husky tone. "But you felt that jolt of fear, that moment your heart skipped a beat, body tensing up and adrenaline bursting through your veins like a drug addict getting their fix."

Dick shudders out a breath, his breathing heavy and panting as goosebumps burst across his skin. He is annoyed and aroused at the same time. His hard dick throbbing in want while his brain growled in defiance.

Yes, for a one split second he'd really thought the man had turned on him.

A horrible feeling of slick, painful betrayal had winded up his spine until the rest of his intuitive senses had kicked in and he'd realized that the man was bluffing.

"Whatever..." he grinds out with clenched teeth, refusing to confirm or deny, eyes glancing off to the side in unknowing submission. Slade always had a way of looking at him that reached far far down into his soul and stroked the fires of his being.

He tries to cross his arms, a natural defense mechanism, but Slade snaps those up too, pinning them to the wall above the raven's head. His larger body sliding up against him fully in the meantime. Water is still beating down on them, easing the way for a sensual roll that causes a full body shiver from Dick. His eyes fall shut without his permission, mouth opening lewdly in a silent gasp of pleasure. He turns his head, showing his neck to the man fully when he feels too overwhelmed by Slade's piecing stare.

"Let me be perfectly clear," Slade grunts out into his ear, he sounds just a tad raw, almost like he is a little affected himself. "There are not many exceptions to my rules. But you are one of them. Understand?"

Dick gasps softly and nods, completely understanding what the man is implying. His unspoken declaration heard loud and clear. The young cop feels simultaneously flattered that Slade thought so of highly of him, while also being irritated that he gave a shit. He shouldn't care about a killer-for-hire's opinion of him in the first place.

But, he'd always been a sucker for Slade's approval.

"Why do you always have to test me?" Dick wonders out loud, barely a whisper, his blue eyes glistening in a lusty haze as he eyes the mercenary from the side. The man has him effectively caught and the young officer would feel more compelled to remove himself from the situation if his body didn't like it so much. His eyes can't help but roam over the man's muscled chest, noting a few scars here and there. There is a large, jagged looking scar by his heart, with raised red tissue that wasn't there the last time Dick had a seen him. But, scars are normal, he has a few himself.

"You always exceed my expectations," Slade tells him, using the barrel of the gun to push his head upwards so they are locking eyes. Dick's blue eyes are vibrant, with lust, with annoyance, with curiosity. The way that the gun is positioned, one quick shot and a bullet would go straight through his neck. The metal feels cold against his adams apple, another gulp from him causes it to shift up and down. "This time, however, I was merely making a point."

Dick frowns and levels the man with a 'not buying it' look. "You expect me to believe that there isn't a single bullet in the chamber...?"

"As what? Some type of last resort scenario?" The man is grinning at him. "No."

"Yes, because, if not...that would mean letting your guard down."

"You sound so sure." There is a beat of silence. "Would you like to test your theory?"

"That's because I am sure!" Dick growls. He uses his own strength to remove his hands from the man's grip. He's pretty sure that Slade merely allowed him to break free and had he really wanted to, he could have kept him pinned. Dick, ignoring how his mind is always analyzing, wastes no time in grabbing the handgun from Slade's and pointing the barrel at his handsome face. "I could shoot this gun right now and nothing would happen? Is that what your saying?"

Slade's poker face is something else.

Dick's grip is firm on the gun, four years of being a cop had taught him that. He levels the man with an intense, blue stare, the stare he'd perfected from Batman years ago and came in handy in his day-to-day life as one of Bludhaven's finest.

"Perhaps," the man then says.

Dick has a moment of clarity, his mind taking in his surroundings. He would laugh at the absurdity of the situation under other circumstances. The fact that this was all taking place in his small ass shower, while both of them were naked and warm water sprayed down consistently on them. But...a deeper part of him. A part that Slade had always saw in him, had tried to nurture once before when he'd blackmailed him into becoming his apprentice, was relishing in this.

The side of him that felt immense arousal at their back-and-forth. The danger, the challenge, the threat. It all made his blood boil, heart beat quicker and seemingly loud in his chest. The part of him that liked it. Felt attracted to it. Slade was an attractive package to all of the things Dick liked most in the world...and all the parts of himself that he kept hidden in the darkest parts of his mind.

His moment of clarity brings forth a unyielding resolve. Slade has never lied to him. The man might be a lot of things, including a master manipulator. But he was a man of honor, of his word being binding.

Dick decides that it is time for a little test of his own.

The young officer steels his nerves. "Stop beating around the bush, yes or no? Is this gun loaded with a bullet in the chamber?"

"No, it is not."

"I see," Dick says. He cocks the gun back, narrowing his eyes in concentration. "I'm curious," he says casual, like talking about the weather, "can your healing factor work against a wound as devastating as a shot to the face?"

Slade tilts his head, regarding him like he's a teacher and he's studying his student in a critical moment, "a bullet to the head at that close of range, would most likely kill me."

Dick feels a moment of surreal calm come over him. The darker parts of him rearing up.

"Good to know-"

...and then, with his blue gaze staring heatedly into steel grey, he fires the gun...

Click...

Click...Click...Click...Click...Click...

Dick is frowning down the length of the barrel, squinting his eye a minute later. When his tunnel vision clears, he sees that Slade's is staring back at him in amusement.

"Well?" The mercenary drawls, "satisfied?"

There are a couple more clicks, as Dick tries to fire a couple more shots, but there is nothing there, "hardly."

The young officer mutters to himself, rustling open the shower curtain and placing the gun on the cabinet surrounding his bathroom sink.

He turns back into the shower and realizes that Slade has now moved in front of the spray, Dick's previously discarded body wash in his hand. The young officer runs a hand through his wet hair and pinches the bridge of his nose in a sigh, a scowl etched firmly on his face, eyes pinched.

Slade reaches out then and wraps a strong hand around the back of his head, pulling him forward easily. The younger man still has his arms folded across his chest, but doesn't resist when he is brought closer. Dick feels a small pink flush heat his cheeks when the older man cannot help but watch him with a lewd stare.

The mercenary is amused and Dick feels petulant towards it.

"Finally no longer just a boy..." Slade mummers with a low, teasing drawl, pulling the strands of his raven hair back and making him arch against him. The mercenary gets up close and personal, "you have certainly come into your own, Dick Grayson. My Robin never would have even thought to try a stunt like that."

"Tch, I was never yours..."

But Slade doesn't even deem that with a reply, gripping and pulling his head back from his hair. It's painful, but his throbbing dick has other thoughts to the rough treatment.

Then, just as suddenly, he's being manhandled out of the shower, and onto the cabinet that has his bathroom sink carved into it. His feet leave the ground and his thighs are forced to wrap around a hard waist as Slade sinks against him, crushing Dick's head a little bit against the bathroom mirror.

Dick cannot help but scoff, even in his current position, "are you seriously turned on because I tried to shoot you with a gun? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Yes," the man rumbles, "among the fact that you are naked and wet with my marks all over you." and Dick sucks in a sharp breath when Slade's mouth latches onto his sore and sensitive neck. "Also, because I know your hole is still gaping wet and raw with my cum..."

"Fuck...Fuck!"

Slade murmurs against the underside of his chin, trailing up and latching onto his lips again with a possessive tug.

Dick feels lost again, swept away just as quick as always. Well, until he feels a sharp, metal object push roughly into his ass. He makes an angry sound when he realizes that the mercenary had just shoved part of the gun into his ass. He shouts and pulls from Slade's lips, using his legs to kick the man in the chest so hard he goes crashing into the wall behind him, the gun sliding out of him and tumbling to the floor.

"You aren't fucking me with that, bastard!" He snarls out, eyes heated from his position haphazardly lying on the sink cabinet. "Either fuck me like a man or don't fuck me at all!"

Slade looks lethal for only a split second before he's lunging forward again. Practically ripping out Dick's hair as he lurches his head back.

He doesn't even give the young officer any warning this time before he's sinking inside of him. He's still a little wet and opened, but the rough treatment has him clenching and grinding his teeth hard against the pain.

He's oversensitive, raw and exposed and over powered and he fucking loves it. Can't even moan out his enjoyment, Slade's harsh pace leaving him breathless. He clings for his life as hips snap ruthlessly against his ass. One hand gripping the cabinet beneath him for balance, the other, nails scratching bloody lines down the back of the one-eyed man's neck.

The room around them is muggy, hot and humid, but there is a small reprieve as the warm water finally recedes and the shower begins spraying cold as the hot water finally times out.

One minute Slade's fucking him on the sink counter, the next, his back is slamming hard against the bathroom door. His legs cling to the man's rapidly moving hips and all Dick can hear anymore is the steadily increasing slap, slap, slap, slap, slap...the pain and pleasure that overwhelms him. Destroys him. Devours him. How he feels like he's coming apart and the crushing fear he feels wondering if he will be able to pick up the pieces again once it's all over.

The man is everywhere, kissing him and biting at his lips, peppering smouldering, liquid hot kisses and nips to his swollen neck. Hands clenching his ass cheeks open as his rock hard cock pounds inside of him. The smell of him, his heavy breathing, his grunts and gleaming eye make it impossible for Dick to form any semblance of coherent thought. He's never been fucked so thoroughly in his entire life...

Why him...why does it always have to lead back to him...?

It's just another conundrum that he's never been able to solve. A riddle without an answer.

"...hate you..." Dick manages to growl out, punctuated by harsh pants, loosing the battle within himself as his orgasm begins to crest inside of him.

"Your mouth might be moving, but your eyes and body speak a different language," Slade tells him, using his leverage to hold Dick in place as they lock heated gazes. Furious sapphire daggers against all-knowing slated silver grey, "there will always be a piece of you that is mine, Robin...don't you ever forget that" and the mercenary pins him in place again, just with a look and the young officer cannot help but arch backwards, head slamming hard against the bathroom door as his orgasm is ripped from his body.

He wants to say that he remembers what happens afterwards, but after the day that he's already endured, his mind has clouded over and he cannot seem to think straight.

Slade doesn't help to clean him up this time. He pulls out a little while later after he'd cum himself and carries Dick out of the bathroom and practically throws him on his bed when they reach the officer's bedroom. He remembers the man murmuring something to him and leaving the room, but he can barely respond before he passes out, cum already starting to coat his thighs as it leaks out of him.

It will be the only reminder of him later. His abused body will be the only thing he has to cling to when he finally wakes up and realizes that Slade has gone again. He'll feel used and be disgusted with himself, for how pathetic he is...but he'll have a steady reminder for at least a few days and while the darker parts of him will be pleased, the saner parts will cry out in anguish.

It's hours and hours and hours later when Dick finally crawls from his bed.

He's kind of a mess.

He hasn't been a mess like this is years.

Everything hurts. It aches in ways he's not used to and he immediately feels cranky and irritated. There is old cum on his stomach and abs, sticky and dried stiff and itchy. But that pales in comparison to the feeling he has between his legs.

Ugh...

He sits up and leans his legs over the side of the bed. He notices that Slade is in fact gone. Even his clothing was missing and Dick, already feeling miserable and pissed off, catches sight of his bedside lamp, sitting innocently on his nightstand. He impulsively grabs a hold of it and then throws it hard into a wall closest to him. The unassuming lamp simply shatters into a bunch of pieces from the impact and yeah...that's already the start of one big ass, colossal bad mood for him.

He storms out of his room, door banging hard against the wall at the force of his movement and he literally doesn't care at all if this warrants another call from his landlord.

Dick hasn't felt this out of control in a long time and he's shaking with the effort he is making to keep his temper in check.

At this rate though, his landlord will surely kick him out of the apartment, for all the good him trying to calm down is doing. He slams open the bathroom door, turns on his shower for the third time in twelve hours, what the hell?! and proceeds to wash away as much evidence as possible of Slade that he can.

It's not much and it only makes him mutter and brood more and more.

By the time he finishes cleaning himself up and getting dressed in a dark blue v-neck and black lounge pants, he has only worked himself up even more. He makes his way towards his kitchen, knowing that he was starving and needed to eat something as soon as possible. He wasn't really hung over, from drinking half a bottle of wine the night before, but he still felt sluggish and useless at the moment.

Slade's gone again...

The mercenary had left and even bigger mess the last time he'd just up and left his younger self, in a hotel room after Slade had taken everything from him. Dick had willingly given himself up to it, gave the man permission and had practically made the first move, but the older man had certainly taken all offered liberties. Crossed boundaries and stripped him of everything he was and hadn't stuck around to put him back together again.

He had spiraled after that. Had to work to pull him self from the blast zone that Slade had made of his life and focus on pursuing a police career to keep himself busy.

This time, he felt the messy after effect, but was stronger now, five years forward and wiser. When he'd made the decision to sleep with him last night, he at least had realistic expectations on the morning after.

I've gotten wise to your games, Slade...

He rounds the corner from his hallway and takes a step towards the kitchen when his body jolts abruptly to a cold hard stop in one second flat.

"You look like shit, kid..."...and yeah...Slade's just sitting at his kitchen table, casually reading a newspaper even though it's now turning 5PM in the evening. The older man just eyes him with a smirk, "finished with your tantrum?"

Dick just feels literally every single emotion that he's able to feel shudder and explode inside of him.

What. The. Fuck?

It's after he's had three separate heart attacks at once that he finally finds out the reason that Slade was in Bludhaven at all.

Suffice to say, it doesn't go over too well at all.

"You need somewhere to lay low? That's why your here?"

"Yes."

"For a job?"

"Yes."

Dick feels his anger spike furiously at Slade's nonchalant attitude "...and you can't do that literally anywhere else in the city?" he growls out, an eyebrow raised at his house guest, who was now sipping on a coffee in his kitchen half-naked while they argued.

"No..."

The man didn't seem to care that it was kind of too late for coffee, the morning was long gone and dinnertime was already fast approaching. Dick had slept really late.

Slade was shirtless and looked ridiculously comfortable in his living space, white hair a little mussed from sleep as he casually enjoys his caffeinated beverage. It looks like he has only just gotten up himself not to long ago and had done nothing, really, to clean himself up like Dick had.

He is still trying to come to terms with the fact that Slade was still freaking here! Let alone that he was apparently here on a job to kill someone as well!

"How long?"

"A week, give or take."

"A week?! You can't stay with me for a week...!"

"This is the optimal location."

Dick feels his sudden anger snap at the man's flimsy excuse, slamming his hand down on the kitchen counter. "Why in the hell would you think I would be fine with you showing up here to murder someone Slade?! " He is glaring hard at the man, fists now clenched at his sides as he tries to reign in his need to physically lash out. Mood having turned on a dime in light of Slade's motives. " I'm a goddamn cop! You think I am just going to let you go on a killing spree without trying to stop you?! You must think your dick is magical or something?!" he was fuming.

What the hell was he even thinking, coming here? I would never allow that to happen in my city.

A small, traitorous part of him, was almost more pissed off that the man hadn't come here just so he could see him, maybe because he had missed him? But he quickly squashed that thought away. It wasn't surprising, he knew what the mercenary did for a living. It was his fault for falling for his dumb bullshit in the first place.

Again!

Reality was suddenly crashing through him like a freight train.

Slade doesn't even blink at his outburst, "while I have no doubt that blue costume I saw yesterday tucked away in a brief case under your bed might come into play if I were to, what did you say, 'start a killing spree' ...I can assure you that I am not here to kill anyone, the job is to bring someone in."

Dick's eyes widen, the tension defusing inside of him like a balloon releasing air. "Oh..."

"Yes," the man says, a bit of teasing to his tone, "though I am curious about that costume. What name did you give yourself now when you wear it? Nightwing, wasn't it? I find it interesting that you have that, given that you barely wear the moniker." his single grey eye is intense, masculine and knowing . "Too busy chasing bad guys now in your officer blues?"

"It's for emergencies," he growls out through clenched teeth, feeling his hackles raise. Still pissed off and annoyed with Slade and all his fucking games! He wasn't at all surprised that Slade had gone through his things while he'd been waiting for Dick to get home yesterday. He could have broken into his apartment hours and hours before he'd gotten home, Dick had worked a thirteen hour shift after all. "Besides, it's really none of your business. I don't need a cape to defend my city anymore. I can do it the right way now."

"Then why have the costume at all? Don't tell me that you don't miss the thrill..."

"Listen!" Dick whirls around on the man, stomping up to him. "You still haven't explained why, even though you may be here on less than terrible terms, why the hell you need to lay low in my apartment?" his arms are then gesturing towards the open window, "there are literal thousands of places you could be staying. It doesn't need to be with me. I'm still a cop! I can't have a wanted villain holed up in my apartment!"

"Don't you think that villain sounds just a bit too dramatic?"

Dick just sees red, Slade is so missing the damn point! The man is being purposefully obtuse. "What the hell should I call you then, a murderer? Sociopath? A goddamned pain in the ass? Take your pick! They are all relevant."

Slade tilts his head a little bit, that eye of his boring a hole into his soul. He's never met someone, not even Batman, who has a more all-consuming gaze. It's simultaneously intimidating and charismatic all in the same breath. "Sociopath would imply that I have a medical condition."

"and don't you?!" he is then shaking, like he's gone crazy and this is his loony toon nightmare, starring Slade Wilson, absolute asshole. "You can't stay with me. Not a fucking chance in hell!"

"What's a few more nights than the one that I've already spent, it's only for a few more days. I could make it worth your while..." and the young officer has to stop himself from reacting to his ridiculous offer, because if he let himself think of it as anything but, he would fall to his knees.

"NO!" Dick insists, pretending he doesn't see the man's smoldering grey eye.

"You won't even know that I'm here," Slade tries to reason, but he's more being a bastard than anything, knowing full well the affect he has on Dick. One of his best skills was being a manipulator and goddamned if he wasn't good at convincing you of things.

For a while, back when he'd been forced to be Slade's apprentice, he'd almost been convinced by Slade that this is what he'd wanted.

Almost.

But he would always be a hero at heart.

He was just a grey hero, someone who sometimes, stepped outside of that grey zone and into the dark, tantalizing abyss.

"You can't just spring this shit on me Slade," he tries to say, his own resolve crumbling a little bit. There was always two conflicting sides within him when the mercenary was involved. "I could loose my job if someone finds out!"

"Yes, what a pity that would be..." Slade bites out dryly, deadpan. It's clear that he thinks that being a police officer is dull and boring. That rules and restrictions weren't a good look on the younger man. That had always been a thing with him. Him wanting Robin to be free and boundless.

Sometimes...he wants that too.

Dick, because he takes his job very seriously, gets instantly annoyed by the older man's words. "Screw you! You have no idea how hard I have worked to get this far."

"Oh, I'm quite aware of the goings on in these parts," the man is speaking, his tone low. His eye then narrows and Dick feels his breath catch in his throat. "Did you think I hadn't kept tabs on you, boy?" He is giving the young officer a head shake, like chiding a small kid. "No, I could never let you stray too far from my grasp after all. You've done some good work, I'll give you that much. Boring. Dull work. Nothing that befits your impressive talents and skills. But, good...honourable work..." the man then snorts, looking affronted. "How do you stand to do it?" and it's mocking and full of ego.

"I do it to make a home for myself, to make a real name for myself!"

"Ah yes, the right way, that's what you said, yes?" and he's then tutting out, that calm, no-nonsense tone that always made Dick want to brawl. "Is that why you don't want to be called Robin now? Don't want to live in a shadow anymore?"

"Don't psychoanalyze me!" Dick sneers, feeling that heated, penetrating gaze on him. Slade is coming closer to him, lying his coffee cup innocently on the kitchen island and circling his way to the other side. When he comes to stand in front of him, the young officer levels him with a glare. "Also! Don't act like you know me when I haven't seen you in almost five years, you bastard!"

There is a mirthful chuckle and Slade has completely invaded his space now, taking his chin in his hand and tilting Dick's face side-to-side, "and there it is," he says, smirking, like he'd just gotten exactly what he'd wanted, "the real reason you do not wish for my company this week. Your upset that I've waited so long before seeking you out again. That I haven't been paying enough attention to you."

Dick feels himself bristle, furious. The absolute gall that this man has, to imply such a thing.

Never mind that it may or may not be true!

What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I hate you?!

"As if!" He mutters and slaps Slade's hand away, glancing away as his face scrunches up in embarrassed rage. He is then physically pushing the man away as well, needing a second to breath without his distracting presence. "Don't flatter yourself!" he snarls, feeling a little vulnerable and lashing out, "and don't think I don't know what your doing. Trying to distract me so I'll agree to let you stay with me. It's not happening Slade, so go find someone else to bother with your bullshit. I don't want any part of whatever is going on here!"

Dick is then storming towards his room, slamming open the door. His blue eyes immediately take in the state of his bed, pillows obscured, blankets lying haphazardly over the side, most of his own clothing lying in different spots around the wooden floor. The tube of lube is even still sitting on his nightstand and he can smell the stale stench of sex and Slade's masculine scent when he breaths in. He feels his face twist into a grimace at his own stupid misstep and hurriedly leaves the room once he's grabbed his wallet and cell phone, knowing that if he doesn't get the hell out of here, he's going to cave and the man is going to take over his life again.

He never should have entertained him from the beginning.

It had just been a huge mistake.

Just like the last time he'd done this.

Slade hasn't moved from his spot when the ex-hero returns, his arms crossed as he watches Dick throw on a pair of sneakers by the door and grab his keys. The mercenary is simply regarding him and the younger man feels another swell of bitterness shoot up inside of him for how goddamned unflappable he always fucking IS! Nothing ever trips him up. Slade is just always so calm, cool and collected and nothing ever fucking phases him. These things are just games to him. He likes playing the mastermind and molding you to his willy ways and Dick just...can't let himself fall for his crap anymore.

Has spent way too much of his life chasing after an impossibility...

"Don't be here when I get back," the young officer says coldly, his vibrant blue eyes staring the man down with his own no-nonsense gaze. He means business and is being perfectly serious and if Slade has any self-preservation instincts, he'll get the fuck out of here and never come back. If he doesn't, and he's still here when he gets back...well, he'll find out quite quickly that Dick is not one for empty, idle threats.

Slade should know at least that about him.

He is then making his way out, slamming the front door behind him as he heads down a few flights of stairs and out into the sunny, summer evening air as he takes to the streets of Bludhaven.

...and when he arrives back home three hours later, it's to an empty apartment, not a single trace of the man left, not a hair out of place or any evidence that Slade had actually been in there at all.

When he's looked around his entire apartment, he finally stands in his living room, hands in his pants pockets and just shakes his head feeling annoyed and pissed off at the same time, feeling relief but also a sadness...his heart giving a pathetic lurch too.

He's disgusted.

At himself. At the situation. All it took the man was one fucking night to smash through the walls that Dick had spent years building.

He doesn't know why his chest clenches uncomfortably when the realization hits him, because this had just been expected. The mercenary had gotten what he'd wanted after all and had vanished, just like he always did.

He knows he wanted him gone...

Has to keep distant...

But it feels shitty all the same.

A/N: So...I really have no idea where I am going with this or if this was any good...

But, I kind of already have a third chapter thought of and...yeah. I suppose if anyone is interested in another continuation to this, let me know and I will try not to take another year to update ;P