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The metal cuffs bit cold and harsh against his squirming wrists as he desperately tried to avoid the inevitable. He should've never dived headfirst into that job as good old Dick Grayson, he knew it was a dumb idea, but the organisation had been moving way faster than he had imagined, and he was afraid they would've gotten what they wanted before he'd been able to discover what exactly was that they were trying to achieve. So he didn't take the time to create an alias and come up with a decent costume, he simply waltzed into the club where the abducting were taking place and now here he was, strapped to a lab table, fully naked and with a knife quickly reaching for his lower abdomen.
Droplets of blood trickled down his skin in a spiderweb of pain as the blade cut and cut, until there was a dark pool sticking to the bare skin of his back and a fissure etched inside of him.
Then, surgically precise and vicious fingers started to probe at the entrance, reaching for the edges, pushing against the walls wet with blood and pulling them apart, leaving him gasping for air, his mouth agape like the chasm in his pelvis.
The haze at the edges of his eyes made everything look out of focus and surreal, like an abstract painting in shades of gutting anguish.
And as he fought the tears back, as he forced himself to stay awake and pay attention to everything that had been going on so that it could all get recorded by his contact lenses, something appeared in the mad scientist's left hand.
Something relatively large
Something that he couldn't recognise, alien, with thin string-like tentacles at the bottom…
Something that was definitely moving.
He was pretty sure that the thing leapt from the hand all by itself as soon as the sickening warmth of his open wound reached it, activating something primordial deep within it, making it crawl its way inside of him, tendrils latching to the tender walls of his torn flesh, instinctively taking its rightful place inside the host they provided it with.
Not even two heartbeats later he could feel it moving, alive,
Pulsating
Expanding
Adhering to the deep wound like an invisible cloth, stopping the bleeding altogether.
It was with horror that Dick saw his lower abdomen starting to move in a slow, steady rhythm and he could feel the alien body faintly beginning to contract and relax.
Then, it came the flood.
Something started to pump straight into his blood stream through the tendrils now deep within him. It was a liquid of some sort, probably, he wasn't sure, an annoying buzz had begun to echo inside his head. No. Focus. He needed to focus. For his research, to make sure this all wasn't in vain. For that, he had to look.
Look as his body swiftly relaxed, his tense nerves melting in a pleasant lull, his resistance soothed by a sweet stream now floating inside of him.
The last corner of his conscious mind tried to scream one last time before getting drowned by the peaceful warmth.
****
He wondered how so many people managed with the hyper-realistic masks clasped around their faces at all times during missions. Personally he thought they were a huge pain in the ass, but his client seemed to disagree and he couldn't deny that he was right when he said that Deathstroke The Terminator letting himself be captured would've stuck out like a sore thumb, not to mention that those cuckoo scientists would've probably locked him up in a different room from everybody else, one with maximum security and more importantly: no access to his target. So yeah, now he was stuck with a stupid disguise in a room full of metas, wondering where all the normal abducted humans could've been. His intel talked about some weird reproductive experiment… and if the few dozens of naked enhanced humans around him were anything to go by, he would've ventured that it was correct. They were all tied with their hands behind their backs, forced to stand up straight by huge collars around their neck bound to the walls and their feet kept slightly apart by shackles on each ankle nailed into the metal floor. By the looks of it, they were being kept like that for show, like genetically modified livestock ready for the picking and whoever put them there knew exactly how to keep them in check, their chains imbued with ad-hoc dampeners. Dangerous, he should've make sure to take a hit on those crazy scientists next maybe, or at least their labs.
He was just starting to feel his way around those knots pressed against his wrists, when the chime of a bell echoed throughout the room and a door slid open right in front of them. There they were, the humans, naked as well yet free from any restraints. They poured in a cloud of smoke, making it hard tell just who was walking in front of you. He cursed under his breath, now it was impossible to distinguish the target. That job was becoming less and less worth the money every second he had to pass in a cramped room, with a mask over his face and smoke filling his lungs. He was just about to snap free from his bounds and be done with everything when a hand gently reached for his chest, successfully freezing him in place.
Hazy blue eyes pinned him to the wall better than any chain ever could and Slade's mouth almost parted, betraying his surprise.
It wasn't weird for the kid to go undercover, he had a sick thrill addiction that should've been kept in check, no, what caught him off guard was how quickly he had singled him out despite his disguise. It wasn't entirely impossible for him to have recognised Slade by physique alone but something didn't add up, the kid had a weird look about himself-
Eyes barely focusing, pupils blown wide, accelerated heartbeat, skin almost feverish to the touch… not to mention his uncharacteristic relaxed demeanour.
"Kid, what have they d-"
"Mine."
The world rolled off his tongue and down Slade' spine like a honeyed promise, sticking to a desire he had hidden deep within himself as nimble fingers traced a path upwards, gracing his neck with their gentle touch before cupping his cheek. He was about to try and fight the draught in his throat, before some scientist stepped next to them, scribbling away excitedly on his stupid notepad.
"Ah, Subject G! I see you were able to find your mate before everybody else! Excellent! This must mean that the compatibility between the two of you is on the highest end of the spectrum. Wonderful, wonderful!"
"Hey buddy, what are you blabbing on about? Who's this kid? What's going on here and what's all the talk about mating and compatibility?"
"Chatty aren't we. Well, no point in denying some answers given you'll forget them soon enough! This here is Subject G and the Superior Reproductive Appendix he's partnered with has selected you as their mate due to your psycho-bio-genetic affinity in order to create the perfect meta-specimen!"
"What a load of-"
"Subject G, if you please!"
Before he could find a way to snap they guy's neck the hand cradling his fake hair suddenly pulled him down, melting their mouths together.
He always knew that his dreams could only come true in the form of nightmares.
There was not enough force of will in the entire world, let alone his body, that could've helped him deny the soft push of the boy's tongue against his lips, or the hunger with which he swallowed the tiny pill it had slipped through ever so gently.
Make no mistake, though, in the last instants of lucidity, just as the alien drug was dissolving in his intestine, Slade Wilson had signed a contract with himself.
And it entailed the complete annihilation of that organisation.
It took the drug approximately to take a complete hold of him, he could feel it pulsing through his veins, melding with the serum rather than fighting it, morphing what was already there into something far more ravenous. His consciousness resurfaced from time to time, never truly leaving him, but unable to do anything beside bearing witness to how his body, now free from all constraints, could barely resits the drug's mandated urges and yet it yielded to every and all of Grayson's wishes.
Every step he took felt like trying to move through the molten core of a volcano, every breath that wasn't merged with the other a torture, and yet he endured, for his small guide had taken his hand to lead him elsewhere, in a small barren room with just an inclined bed and several cameras all around it. And when he let go of him it was like dying, yet he did not take another step for he was not instructed to. He stood there, waiting, watching like a starved wolf as his guiding lamb leapt upon the altar, getting ready for his own slaughter.
With one hand, he beckoned him to come closer, to loom over and observe as the other hand slid down his figure until the fingers reached for the wound on his pelvis. And pushed.
Slowly, sensually, he fingered the cut back open, soaking the middle and index finger with something akin to saliva mixed with blood. Without warning, he grabbed Slade by his cock, coating it in the viscous liquid as he pulled him closer, one hand buried deep in his hair to guide his lips back where they belonged.
The kiss was hungry this time, much like the movements on his painfully hard erection, and his tongue pushed a different kind of drug down his throat, it offered him his pleading moans.
"Mine. Mine. Mine-"
And maybe it was the sound of his voice, maybe it was just a flash of clarity, but Slade managed to push back against the current trying to drag him under and dug his fingers on each side of the bedding, his strained breath painful against his lungs as everything seemingly tried to crush him back into submission. He truly could not bear to look at those baby blue eyes clouded like that, he hated the lack of glimmer he could always find in them.
"Kid… listen- you- you don't want this. You -ah- you don't even know me…"
He truly needed to remind himself to never let Grayson touch his face in the future, he could not allow himself to freeze and melt at the same time every time the boy traced his fingers down his cheek.
"Of course I do. We were always meant to be. The Appendix knew that. You belong to us, Slade."
Tears were now trickling down the boy's face despite the serene smile on his lips, and Slade was a bad, horrible man. for he knew that the reason why he leaned forward to lick away his silent sorrows wasn't due to the drugs.
"Now… come, mate with us."
A sweet whisper and one last, inviting pull were all it took for his hips to snap, eager to comply, and for his consciousness to drown once more into the voraciousness rushing through his veins. The blood welcomed him with its sticky warmth and it felt as if the wound closed by itself around him, eager to keep him there forever. He could sense that thing inside of Dick moving, sucking on his cock hungrily with each thrust, urging him for more as the boy dug his nails in his shoulder-blades, pulling him impossibly closer until their bodies were flushed together in a feverish embrace. He would've been ashamed of himself afterwards, but right in that moment, as the kid whimpered and he avidly drunk his tears and as thousands of thin tendrils inside that wound latched onto his cock, making sure he couldn't run away even if he wanted to, the only thing echoing inside of him was the raw desire to breed.
To fill him up until he'd burst with his seed was a need so strong he could feel its talons sink deep within him and peel off the now paper thin walls of his subconscious.
Because that's what he had always wanted, wasn't it.
To make the Richard Grayson, Nightwing, his and his alone and no drug could've ever created a desire as big as that all by itself.
And of course he never wanted it like this, fucking some alien sack attached to a gut wound as the kid was drugged beyond his mind.
But Slade Wilson wasn't a saint, and when it came the moment to climax, when he buried himself as deep as physically possible and even some more, when tendrils choked his cock from everything he got, he took as much as he gave. He kissed and bit and licked, with every moment of clarity he overwrote regret with the kid's melodious cries, and for every drop of release he used to paint his insides he swore to kill everyone in that building.
For maybe a part of Slade Wilson, deep down in the darkest corners of his heart, had always wondered what it would've been like to finally have the Richard Grayson for himself, but he always hated who did his job for him.
And nobody but him was allowed to make the kid cry.