kat8cha: (Superheroes - oh noez brainwashing)
[personal profile] kat8cha
Title: Shooting Range
Fandom: DCU
Author: NOT ME HOLY ... me.
Pairing: ...Slade/Roy hints of Ollie/Roy and Roy/Dick
Rating: MATURE
Warnings: Rape. Rape, bad touch, mind fuckery, awfulness, bondage, roleplay
Summary: Slade is a creepy bastard and Roy and Cheshire are going to fail when they try to kill him, also, Slade likes to fuck Titans.
A/N: Can we pretend I didn't write this ever? At least I wrote it and it will stop haunting me. Probably. It was inspired by Titans and too many Slade/Dick fanfics.

In all honesty, this wasn't how Roy had expected things to go. Oh, he'd known he could never actually beat Slade, even with Cheshire there to help out. Deathstroke was not only at least ten steps ahead but he had always come out on top when fighting the Titans. Roy had faced off with him on his own three times and each time he'd ended up face down on the ground (alright, once he'd ended up in a river with his arm broken, and that last time he'd ended up flat on his back on a rooftop, semantics). He isn't sure where Chesh is. He's almost positive she's alive but he can't be sure. After all, Deathstroke and Cheshire never really got along well.

(Except for that one time where they were totally having sex and Roy was attempting to sabotage Cheshire, but then that was before she blew up Quarac… but then that was before Deathstroke blew up Bludhaven.)

Slade must have tucked her away while Roy was passed out, which was also when he took off Roy's arm. Roy's arm aches without the mechanical attachment, a bone deep ache that shoots pain into his shoulder, but it's not nearly as bad as the burn when the arm is attached. Roy's other arm is twisted up behind his back painfully, but not as painfully as it could be. Still when Roy attempts to twist out of Slade's hold the grip tightens and it's a rough five minutes that causes more bruises to join the cuts and bruises already littering Roy's body from the previous fight. Roy is marched past the door leading to his bedroom and further down the hallway. It makes Roy's stomach twist because he has a pretty good idea of what room they're going to end up in.

"You really do have a Titans kink, don't you Slade?"

"You have no idea, kid."

Roy thinks about resisting again but it's not really any use. If Slade intends to screw him, fine, he can screw him. Roy's had sex with men before (don't think about Dick) and he's had sex that wasn't totally consensual before (don't think about being high).

Rape isn't going to break Roy any more than he already is, he's broken already.

Slade pushes him into his quarters and keeps pushing until Roy's in the bedroom. Roy's not surprised by the lack of obvious weaponry or the bare quarters, but he is shocked by the red fabric that lies on Slade's large bed. He's shocked and appalled and maybe he's not as broken as he thought because the sick twist in his stomach twists even more to the point where Roy thinks he's going to vomit. Slade drops Roy's arm and shoves him towards the bed forcefully.

"You should change."

Roy stares down at the familiar short-sleeved outfit with its yellow gloves and matching yellow hat. His fingernails bite into his palms. "You really weren't kidding about that Titans kink."

Slade's chuckle sends chills up and down Roy's spine. "Change."

It's hard to get undressed with one hand, but Roy's getting used to it (a fact that scares him) and he manages without taking too much time. Deathstroke doesn't offer to help, for which Roy's grateful, or take over. He doesn't even say anything, though Roy knows he's still in the room. Roy can hear his breathing (soft, quiet, and deliberate) and feel the weight of his gaze. Roy drops his belt (briefly considers using it against Deathstroke) to the side and then peels off his shirt. He slides the Speedy shirt on, not wanting to be naked around Slade for longer than a few seconds. The top is different from Arsenal uniform. Longer, for one, this makes Roy feel a little more comfortable as he awkwardly steps out of his boots and peels down his leggings. It's not as tight or clingy for another, although it does nothing to hide his muscles in his arms or his chest. There is a bit more give and it is an entirely different fabric. Roy pulls on the bright red leggings of the Speedy uniform and then picks up the bright yellow belt. The color for the uniform's different from the Arsenal uniform as well.

The belt's actually the tough part but Roy eventually gets it tightened and then he pulls on one bright yellow glove and the hat. There aren't any boots to the uniform and Roy does not allow him a moment of nostalgia or regret, instead he turns to face Slade.

And the urge to vomit, which had receded as he dressed, reappears. Slade leaned against the wall behind Roy but he was not dressed in this Deathstroke uniform. Roy had admitted to himself that Slade's slow obvious breathing was deliberate, it was there to remind Roy that Slade was in the room, but he hadn't realized that Slade would be doing things and he wouldn't hear. Somehow without Roy noticing Slade had stripped.

And redressed.

The thing about costumes were that they were distinctive. Ollie's Green Arrow costume differed from Connor's GA costume and from Roy's Red Arrow costume. Just like Mia's Speedy costume had differed from Roy's. Another thing about costumes was that they were supposed to hide your identity.

Slade's face was half hidden, both by a dark green mask and by the shadow of the hat pulled low over his eyes. Roy isn't sure he can *breathe* the resemblance is so astounding. He'd heard jokes before, he's pretty sure there was a mission where Slade and Ollie were mistaken for each other, but to Roy it was not a joke anymore. "Take it off." Roy grabbed his discarded belt and swings it at Slade. He has got perfect aim, but Slade has got better than perfect reflexes. He has his arm up before Roy is even half finished with the swing and the belt wrapped uselessly around Slade's hand instead of Slade's neck.

Slade tugged Roy forward by the belt until Roy dropped it, then Slade reached out and pulled Roy close by the fabric of the tunic. Roy grabbed at the ties across Slade's chest and is ready to yank the fabric so hard it tears. But then Slade's hand is around his wrist and holding it behind Roy again. "Slow down, kid." And Slade's got the voice down. Roy's heard how good Slade is at impersonating Batman, but now he gets to hear how good Slade is at impersonating Ollie. It's not quite right, there's a bit of the California accent missing, but the timber is pitched just low enough for Ollie and there's a hint of fond exasperation to it. It makes Roy head-butt Slade.

He was on his back on the bed in a second and the force of the toss left Roy winded. He had a second to catch his breath before Slade straddles his legs and pulls Roy's hand over his head. The cuff was tight enough that without the protection of the glove it'd be cutting into Roy's skin. Roy kicks, but Slade easily pins his legs down.

"I can't leave you alone for a second and you're getting yourself into some kind of trouble, Speedy."

"Stop-" The other glove, the spare one that Roy hadn't given a thought to, is pressed into Roy's mouth and held there with Slade's fingers. Roy bites but the material of the gloves doesn't give him in inch and soon he's gagging. Slade pulls his fingers back, but leaves the glove stuffed in Roy's mouth. Roy bites down on the fabric. Slade is not about to listen to him anyway. He's touching Roy, stroking his fingers down Roy's chest. He doesn't push the Speedy uniform up, doesn't touch underneath and Roy shudders and wishes Slade had given him a mask. Even without lenses a mask would have afforded some sense of privacy. He used to fight with a bare face all the time.

But not as Speedy.

He's not, Roy instructs himself, Speedy and the man above him is not Green Arrow.

"You're a lonely kid, aren't you, Roy." And it's still Ollie's voice, still Ollie's movements too. Roy's seen him do that half-smirk a million times, seen him do the shoulder roll as he leans back from being bent forward. It's the left shoulder, always, because of an old injury. "I didn't know what a high maintenance kid was getting when I picked you up. I'd like to say things've turned out for the best but I guess we both know that's a lie."

Roy's 'fuck you' is muffled by the glove but Slade hears him and shakes his head in mock sadness.

"That won't do at all. We're going to have to get you to clean up your act if you're going to be my sidekick again."

There are a hundred things to say to that, but Roy doesn't get a chance. He gags around the glove when Slade palms his crotch through the thin fabric of the Speedy uniform's leggings. Roy squeezes his eyes shut and hopes Slade gets it over with fast.

He doesn't.

By the time Slade's pushing his cock inside of Roy Roy's hard and his cock is shining with spit and pre-cum. Having Slade's mouth around his cock should have been a turn off. Feeling the facial hair brushing against his pubic hair should have made him go limp. The rub of Slade's fingers, still covered by Ollie's gloves, over his prostate shouldn't have made Roy's body jerk, shouldn't have made Roy whine.

Slade's good at what he does, and even though Roy's hard, even though he's turned on and feeling pleasure, it's not like he enjoys it. This is just another power game with Slade, so of course Slade's winning.

"You always need someone to be in control, don't you Red." And Slade's been mixing up the names all night, while he stroked Roy's cock, while he pinched and played with Roy's nipples through the uniform and while he thrust slippery gloved fingers up Roy's ass. Roy, Speedy, Red, kid, it's all the same to Roy.

Except it's not.

Roy has to keep breathing, can't stop panting, but he keeps a tight grip on the glove in his mouth and doesn't let any words out. He doesn't curse, doesn't shout, doesn't yell or beg. He doesn't moan, for which Roy will be grateful for later.

"You can't ever be your own boy, Speedy. You've tried." And Slade picks up one of Roy's legs and props it on his shoulder. It's not an easy position for Roy. Roy tries not to watch as Slade presses into him, but Slade spanks his ass and Roy's eyes shoot open.

It's not Ollie, it's not Ollie, it's not Ollie. It's getting harder and harder to believe himself. Slade is very good at dress-up.

"Every time," Slade's all the way in now and Roy just wants this to end. He's going limp now, but O-Slade wraps a hand around Roy's dick and strokes him hard again. "Every time you try, you end up running back to me." And Roy's never run back to Ollie. He quit and he stayed away until he was enough of his own man to see Ollie without biting his face off. He hadn't even asked Ollie for help with Lian. "Or you turn to your Titans. Dick," And Slade shouldn't say his name, it gets Roy to growl and buck and Slade grins like *Slade* not like Ollie for a split second before the grin morphs into Ollie's self-assured snarl. "Dick's just as much the boss of you as I am, Roy."

They're not. Roy isn't some submissive who needs to be ordered around. He's never been a sidekick, he was always a *partner*.

"You lost your way without us, didn't you, Roy." And Slade starts to thrust. It's a slow drag and Roy can feel every inch of it. "You needed someone to be there to pick you up when you fell down and no one was."

No one had been.

"You let your little girl define your life, Speedy, you should have taken a page from my book and ignored the kid."

A long, slow, forceful thrust and Roy clenches around Slade's cock and *whines*. There's the grin again, the one that's too bright and feral to be Ollie's before it changes. Roy holds onto that grin in his head even as the thrusts pick up pace, become faster and a little harder but just as deep. He grits his teeth and can feel the glove starting to give, finally, just like Roy's starting to give. Slade keeps stroking him, twice as fast as he's thrusting into Roy and Roy just wants it to end.

"Keep up, Speedy." There's a sharp backhanded slap to Roy's face that's all too familiar feeling.

Roy glares at Slade and spits out the glove. "Fuck you, Slade."

"That's not my name, Roy." Slade's hand cups Roy's chin then slides down to Roy's throat. He squeezes. "I'd think even a junkie could remember his mentor's name." He squeezes harder. "Say it."

Roy's going to have bruises tomorrow. Black, blue, and purple shades of skin all edged in sickly yellow, all over his body. He wheezes as the grip tightens, tightens… there's still a hand stroking his cock and Roy doesn't want to admit it but he's done erotic asphyxiation before. He's not a fan of it, but he's been riding the razor's edge for too long.

"Green Arrow." Roy croaks out before all of his air is cut off and he can't breathe. It must be enough for Slade because the man grins again and allows Roy to pass out.


Clean up is easier when the other sexual partner is passed out. Slade takes a minute to smirk at the form in his bed, half dressed in the old Speedy costume with a handprint mark already showing up on his neck. It's cheered Slade up, this little session. He'll go check on Cheshire next, and then he'll go to the control room.

He has a video tape to edit and send to Green Arrow. Rumors are that Oliver's been living in hiding in the Star City forest. The other man won't be likely to shape up for a few months at least, probably closer to a year. And of course the longer it was before Green Arrow found this video…

Slade thinks he'll deliver it in DVD form to Ollie's old P.O. box. Or perhaps he'll send it to one of Arrow's allies. Black Canary would probably enjoy it as well.
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