(Okay, I understand the last chapter was a bit of a disappointment, but this one won't be. It'll have blackjack! and hookers! in fact! forget the blackjack!)

It was past midnight ... Slade was supposed to be home at seven. The lights were off. Slade figured he could sneak in without waking Grant. He looked upward at the the window of his bedroom on the second story. The only way up would be to climb the wooden frame on which the rose vines lay. He was still buzzed from the alcohol and the nicotine consumed at the party.

"Hey," a voice whispered from behind him, startling him.

"Jesus Christ, man! What are you doing here? If my Dad sees you-"

"Chill, Slade. The lights are off. He's asleep," He edged toward him, "when can I see you again?"

Slade felt heat surge up from the collar of his shirt to the back of his ears, "I don't know ... I'll try next Saturday-"

"Next Saturday? No sooner?"

"Can't be any sooner ... You know that. He'll get suspicious."

"Okay, fine ... I'd like to spend some time with you before he ships you off to military school, though."

"... Don't worry ... I'll see you again before then. What's he gonna do? Kill me?" Slade let out a little chuckle before being interrupted by his companion pressing his lips to his. He could feel another surge of heat radiating up the back of his neck. Slade wraped his arms around his companion's neck and returned his affections. They spent another five minutes kissing, pausing at short intervals for breaths, before Slade finally whispered, "you should go. It's late." Reluctantly, Slade's companion left, eager for the next time they met. Slade wouldn't admit it now, twenty-seven years after, but he was just as eager.

After taking a minute to calm down, he summoned the courage to begin climbing. There were few places to put his hands without the thorns of the rose vines puncturing them. By the time he reached the top, His clothes were tattered, and his hands and arms scratched by the thorns. He figured he could change quickly, so Grant wouldn't notice his clothes, and as for the scatches ... he only ever wears long-sleeves anyway. He was the sort of kid who wore long sleves all-year round.

Once through the window, Slade closed it quietly, careful not to wake Grant ... when someone behind him flicked on the light. "you're late," It was Grant, standing in the doorway, blocking him from escape.

"... I was just out s-studying. W-with my f-friend ... sir ..."

"Your friend? By which you mean that boy who had his tongue down your throat?" He was furious.

"I can explain-" Grant struck him and he hit the floor with such force that it knocked the wind from his lungs. He didn't want to hear it. Slade coughed and wheezed trying to get his breath back. Grant didn't wait that long to kick him in the side, cracking two of his ribs.

"Get up, you sniveling little shit," Grant grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and pulled him up to his feet, "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I was just having fun," Slade was shaking now.

Grant Slammed him against his bedroom wall, tearing the AC,DC poster behind him, "You were thinking with your dick ... You fucking idiot! Do you want to get AIDS!" Before Slade could shout back at him, he kneed him in the groin with considerable force. Slade let out a shriek and hit his knees, his vision blurred through his tears. He coughed for a few seconds, but he didn't cry. He wouldn't let himself cry in front of him. 'Men do not cry.' "Next time excersize some self-control. No son of mine will be seen with another man."

Slade finally managed to shout back in a strained voice, "I wish I wasn't your son!"

Grant paused, "Me too." He turned and left Slade writhing in pain on the floor.

(UGH! SEPARATE IT WHEN I TELL YOU TO SEPARATE IT STUPID COMPUTER!)

Nearly a week had past since the incident. Slade was determined not to let his libedo get the better of him a second time. He may have had to cut a few training sessions short, but he avoided getting too ... excited. He kept his cool, and hadn't once lost control since ... but it was getting harder to keep it up. He knew his patience was running thin ... but he also knew he needed the boy to trust him. He couldn't force him again, or he would risk losing his apprentice.

Robin was frightened of Slade since the incident, and though Slade enjoyed the obeydiance that grew from the fear ... he didn't want it. He didn't want Robin to cower and cringe like a dog. He wanted him to want to obey him. He wanted him to like following orders ... and when the time was right ... he wanted him to take pleasure in what he was training him for. He didn't want a mindless drone that only obeyed him in fear of punishment. He wouldn't stand for it. He wouldn't let Robin become something so pathetic.

Slade decided that to fight his urges a little longer wouldn't be too much of a challenge. He would have Robin soon enough ... and he would have all of him. No tears. No sobs. No pathetic pleas for mercy. He would want what was coming to him.

One day, after a training session that ran rather late, he decided he would make his move. Robin was on his way to shower before eating, as was routine.

"I havn't dismissed you yet, boy."

Robin stopped and could feel his stomoch drop and his skin crawl. He remembered what had happened last time Slade dismissed him late ...

"What do you want?"

"Don't play coy with me, Robin. You know exactly what I want."

Robin quivered with fear. He knew he couldn't refuse ... He couldn't run ... He was trapped.

"Don't."

"You aren't in any position to make demands, Robin."

"Please don't!" he begged.

"Don't grovel to me, boy," Slade snarled in disgust, "No apprentice of mine is going to degrade himself by begging for mercy. I intend to make a man out of you and I suggest you start acting like one."

"A man wouldn't have raped a fifteen year old boy."

Slade struck him hard accross the face, sending him to the lenolium tile with considerable force. Slade wanted to punish him for that remark. He wanted to shove his cock into him and make him scream remorse and beg for mercy ... but he couldn't. He needed Robin to trust him ... and he couldn't ask him to trust him if he'd rape him again.

Slade got down to his knees and pinned Robin to the floor and started to work on his pants.

"NO!" Robin struggled and squirmed, trying to keep his legs shut, but Slade pryed them apart with his knees, allowing him more access to draw down the zipper of his pants ... He loved the way Robin looked in that tight leather and spandex apprentice uniform ... but he would've loved it better off.

"Be still."

"Fuck you!" he spat at him, hitting the bronze side of his mask.

Instead of repremanding him with a firm backhand, Slade simply chuckled at him, "Perhaps later."

Robin was panicked. He wasn't going to let Slade take advantage of him again. Never! Not without a fight. He struggled harder than he ever had in his life ... but Slade was just too strong for him. The more he struggled the tighter Slade's grip, he harder he held him down, the deeper he pushed his knees into his thighs, pinning them to the floor.

"Save your energy, Robin," Slade chuckled at him, "you're going to need it." He reached into his pants and pulled out his member (god I can't type that without giggling. I'm so immature). Robin's eyes widened as he looked down and saw Slade's hand ... stroking him. He was in such shock that he could hardly feel it at first ... but then he could feel a twinge and a rush of sensation go up his spine. A flush of red came over his face as he squirmed in Slade's iron grip.

"Slade, what are you doing?" He struggled, "stop!"

Slade ignored him and proceeded to stroke up and down the shaft a few times before running his thumb over the sensitive tip. Robin gasped and jolted at the sudden pleasurable sensation ... he was getting ... hard. No! He couldn't let this happen ... but ... oh god it felt so good. Another gasp escaped him when Slade ran his thumb over his head a second time. His mind went blank. He was running on pure instinct now ... and he just couldn't keep still. He writhed and arched his back and moaned "oh Slade-" he gasped. He came back to his senses ... he realized what he just said ... what was happening, "No!" He squirmed, but it wasn't any use, Slade was too strong.

"Don't fight it," Slade whispered, through his slightly labored, aroused breathing as he pumped Robin's now rock-hard shaft a little faster, determined to break him ... and break him he did. Robin squirmed and moaned and panted, unable to contain himself. He used what little control he still had of his mouth to not mention Slade's name through the breathy moans and gasps.

Slade was getting hot under the layers of kevlar, spandex, and leather in his suit, not to mention the mask. He knew Robin was still holding back, but it didn't matter to him. Making him scream his name could come later ... right now, he was just focused on making him come.

Robin was close. His entire body ached with strain. He was breathless and out of his mind with every touch. He let out a loud strained groan as he came into his master's hand, his head spinning, his mind blank, his vision blurred with pleasurable sensation, leaving him breathless and dazed.

Slade wanted nothing more than to just take him right there ... but that would have to wait ... For now, he'd just let Robin enjoy himself.

"You are dismissed," his breathing was heavy and laced with frustration.

Robin didn't leave right away. He lay there for almost seven full minutes before pulling himself up onto his shaking legs. He enjoyed it while it lasted ... but now ... he had that feeling of being filthy all over again ... His eyes welled up with tears as stumbled away to the bathroom.

Slade watched him leave quietly, aware of the guilt and shame he felt now ... but not at all worried by it. He let out a little chuckle once he was out of sight, "I know it seems bad now, but trust me ... You'll learn to like it."

(EEEE! It's finally done! Second chapter! Woo! like it? hate it? please! I need feedback! I don't do this for free! I do it for ATTENTION! ^_^ . and 'cause I like to write pornographic scenes)