Genres: Challenge, Drama, First-Time, Slavefic
Claim: For the dcu_freeforall Challenge (Bruce/Dick)
Prompt: T 4; P 11: Scarecrow Gas
Prompt Count: (4/15)
Warnings: Explicit non-con. NOT between Bruce and Dick.
Summary: Bruce is desperate to erase the memory of his toxin-induced nightmare.
Date Of Completion: June 25, 2009
Date Of Posting: July 6, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1168
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: PLEASE heed the warning above. Non-con = rape.
Star Trek fans will recognize the first scene that I used to tell my story. There aren’t Trek characters in it, but the set-up is definitely from the show. However, you need not have seen The Cage/The Menagerie to understand this story.
This story is the first in the Collared series, and does depict an actual slave scenario in the first half, but further installments will be more of the D/s variety. However, if you’re looking for a conventional D/s relationship, you may be disappointed. Oh, the boys may play when Alfred’s away, but this series is more an exploration of the complex psychological needs of this couple that not many people outside of the Manor will understand.
The entire series can be found here.
“He’s a wild one, isn’t he?”
Bruce watched the boy…no, young man…dancing to the pulsing beat of the music, graceful and wild, wearing nothing but a short skirt of yellow, his biceps and forearms banded in thick gold, jewels of blue, red, green, and yellow sparkling as he moved. Similar bands encircled his thighs, and smaller bands were clamped around his wrists and ankles. A heavy collar of the same design marked him as Orion property.
Streams of glittering light followed his movements, bare feet nearly flying across the polished floor. The rich dark-blue silk tapestries formed a decadent backdrop as the Orion musicians played in a corner, their red satin jackets trimmed in gold.
The slaver leaned over with a leer, “A beauty, eh?”
He and Bruce were sitting on pink satin pillows, both clad in silk garments, the slaver in deep purple and Bruce in shimmering cobalt-blue, a heavy gold necklace resting on his chest.
Bruce didn’t answer the Orion. He watched the slender but muscular boy dance, shaggy raven hair falling into kohl-rimmed eyes, a perfect mouth flashing in a smile…?
“You can have him for a reasonable pile of credits.” The bald man’s voice was as oily as his leer.
Bruce’s heart was pounding, his eyes never leaving the dancer. The slave turned, Bruce’s breath catching as he was treated to the sight of the most perfect ass in the Universe. A thin gold strap slipped down between the round buttocks, cupping each one as the strap wound back to the front beneath the skirt.
The slave’s skin was not green as the native slaves were. The Orions were a species of different colors: green were the slaves, blue and pink the enslavers.
This boy was not an Orion.
The slave arched back, thrusting his hips forward as he tossed his head, a flash of a smile on his face, stunning Bruce.
Despite being a slave, this boy was taking joy in his dancing.
“He’s a wild thing in bed,” purred the Orion. “Takes the lash well and is extremely...flexible. Fit for a Prince.”
The slave danced closer, nearly on top of Bruce, skin glistening with oil and sweat. Tiny bells tinkled from his nipples, underlining the louder music that pulsed in Bruce’s body, tantalizing with the hint of treasures beneath that sunlit skirt, his sensuous grace setting Bruce’s blood afire.
The slave bent backwards as the music reached a crescendo, dropping to his knees before Bruce and bending forward, then looked up through his shaggy locks with the most startling-blue eyes Bruce had ever seen, going straight to his heart.
He hesitantly reached out a hand to cup the boy’s face, but couldn’t quite make himself touch.
The beautiful blue eyes looked at him with understanding.
Need also shone from those eyes, and the boy took Bruce’s hand and kissed the palm.
Suddenly, he was pulled away, his arms reaching out, pleading…
“Too late, Prince. Now the wild thing will audition for his next Master,” chuckled the slaver.
Bruce watched in horror as the beautiful slave was dragged to stakes set in the floor, arms and legs yanked apart and chained, open and vulnerable, a long line of males leering and waiting eagerly…
The slave looked at Bruce with that pleading expression in his beautiful blue eyes…
Bruce lunged forward but was held back by two of the slaver’s burly guards.
The horror welled up in him as each alien took the slave, the strap between his buttocks broken and tossed away as they roughly pulled him open, laughing and mocking as the music played, wild and jagged, the aliens splattering their seed on the slave’s torso and thighs, taking and claiming with teeth and cock, marking him, branding him, driving in deep and hard, the young man panting with exertion as still they came, one-by-one, some beautiful with silky hair and well-muscled bodies and others ugly and misshapen and tiny and squawking and then green hair and pasty skin, maniacal laughing as blood was drawn…
Another look of desperate pleading thrown his way, shame and hurt trailing down the young man’s cheeks in wet trails of silver, and the slave’s agonized scream tore at Bruce as he let out a howl of rage…
He snapped awake, the sound of bat wings rustling far overhead. Movement shimmered at the edge of his vision, and then a face with beautiful blue eyes was smiling down at him.
Relief, desire, love swept through Bruce as a trembling hand reached up and touched the smooth skin, silvered with tears of joy, then his arms shot up and grabbed his beautiful young man and pulled him into a desperate but loving kiss.
Surprised, Dick pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes, seeing lucidity instead of dreams, and returned the kiss enthusiastically, climbing up onto the bed and wrapping his legs around Bruce, clothes coming off and falling to the Cave floor, Bruce grabbing Dick’s thighs in a bruising grip and mouths nipped and kissed and neither could get enough.
Bruce wanted…needed…to put his brand on Dick, his fears driving him on, trying to blot out the nightmare, of a long, endless line of males slavering to get at his young man, hurting him...he bit between neck and shoulder, then higher on Dick’s neck, rubbing his nipples, Dick moaning into his mouth. He grasped a strong hip and his other hand curled in Dick’s glossy dark hair, mouth plundering the younger man’s in a soul-shattering kiss. He needed to protect…
Dick rubbed up against him, their cocks touching and shooting electric sparks between them, his hands roaming over Bruce’s body, straightening up as hair hung in electric-blue eyes, sultry and wicked, Bruce cock jerking, and he thrust his hips up, Dick lowering himself on the rigid organ, pumping with strong thighs, skin glistening with sweat, arching his back, his throat exposed, a writhing wild thing…
With a growl, Bruce spurted into Dick’s body, shaking with toxin-induced weakness and his own passion, strains of haunting music in his head as Dick came next over Bruce’s stomach and chest, pleasure lighting up his beautiful face, and he dropped into Bruce’s arms as he slid off Bruce’s cock, the two of them panting in the bat-rustled silence, Dick looking at Bruce, love shining from his eyes.
He kissed Bruce, reached out for a towel and cleaned them up, then pulled up the blanket from the foot of the bed and covered them both against the dampness of the Cave. He fell asleep, exhausted from worry, and Bruce gently stroked his hair and face, then trailed a finger around Dick’s neck.
Tomorrow he would go into the vault and take out the jewel-studded collar with the family crest, ready for another generation of Waynes to lay a claim.
He fell asleep to the sound of the bats squeaking and Dick breathing, both of them holding on tightly, smiles on their lips.