Bullets

Bullets Chapter 3

Robin was suffering. He hid it well beneath the mask of loathing and hatred, but confusion was causing that mask to slip.

It had felt good to fight is friends on top of the Wayne building, and despite his reluctance, he had been overcome with joy when he'd been told to use his laser weapon. The high he had felt then disappeared when Slade had activated the nano-machines, and suddenly returned when he fought his friends when they had been turned off once more.

He lay now on his bed, sore from the beating his body had endured earlier, and exhausted from analyzing his thoughts. His feelings were chaotic, and with each passing moment, he grew more aware of why they were. He jerked his body, growling into the sheets, fists pounding his pillow. What was wrong with him? He shouldn't be liking his captor! He should be focusing on getting away, with his friends intact!

But his mind was focused on his master-

Slade.

Robin's eyes shot open, wide in disbelief. He sat up, the heel of his right hand pressing against his forehead. He'd never called Slade his 'master', not even in his head. Never.

He was changing. Changing.

He was confused, his obsession had turned into lo-

No. Robin shook his head vehemently. Whatever he was feeling, it certainly wasn't love.

Was it?

Unable to comprehend the 'why' of how he felt, the Boy Wonder slid off his bed and left his room, hoping a walk would clear his mind. He wasn't sure why he found himself in the brightly-lit room of days before, or why he was suddenly aware of Slade's presence near-by. He turned his head, seeing the man seemingly materialize out of the shadows. In an instant, they were standing facing each other, Robin looking up and Slade looking down, no words exchanged.

That was another thing that confused the younger. They seemed to understand each other's thoughts without needing words, so attuned to the other none were needed.

Slade's hand came to rest on Robin's neck, gentle and warm, something the boy felt the elder wasn't capable of. Still, Robin didn't jerk like he had so many times before, his eyes closing in acceptance.

The word was just on his lips, about to be said, when a loud explosion interrupted them. They jerked apart, their eyes on the intruders, the orbs narrowed in contempt. Or at least Slade's eye was. Robin's were wide in amazement. There stood his friends, all ready to fight Slade to free him.

A sudden urge overcame the boy to side with his friends, denial surging though his system. They fought Slade, side by side, Robin feeling as though Slade was taking amusement from this. The Boy saw the trigger pressed, and his friends began to glow with their impending deaths. Only one thing left to do.

Robin ignored Slade's command and dove into the container of nano-machines, an explosion following his infection. He was in pain, so much of it, and the expression in the elder's eye held an emotion Robin refused to name. He was sure his eyes reflected that same emotion, but he couldn't acknowledge it. Slade only reluctantly turned the nano-machines off, and let them go. Robin could feel the elder's eye boring into his back, as though the man was telling him he'd be back.

Robin didn't respond, didn't return the look. After Cyborg had cleaned their systems of the nano-machines, Robin moved to be alone. He felt tears welling and rubbed his eyes with the back of his gloved hand.

You didn't cry for your enemy.

And you certainly didn't fall in love with him.

Robin frowned, calming himself enough to pass for normal as Starfire, the Tameranian girl just concerned, joined him for him. Robin was disgusted with the way she clung to him, and barely resisted the urge to push her away. That would only raise suspicions. As Starfire looked away, smiling, Robin allowed a grin of his own.

His master would be pleased.

Very pleased, indeed.

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He was aware of the presence behind him before the boy announced himself, Slade already half turned to face his young apprentice. A smirk played on his lips, though it went unseen from behind his mask.

Robin came to a halt before him, his face serious. They remained silent until Slade turned his back to the boy, and the smaller moved to stand beside him. They looked down over the city together, side by side.

"It's usually the master that looks for the apprentice, not the other way around." Slade spoke dryly, his eye on the boy beside him.

Robin gave a shrug. "I wanted to find you."

"Did you finally get tired of the Titans?"

"Yes." The word was hissed and had Slade smiling.

"So you sought me out. What do you have in mind then, bird?"

There was silence as Robin reached up, untying the mask he wore around his face and pulling it away. It was almost ceremonial, Robin holding the black cloth away from his face, over the side of the building they were standing on. A tilt of his hand, and the material slid off, floating to the crowded street below to be trampled. Symbolic.

And Slade so enjoyed symbolism.

Robin turned to him then, blue orbs staring into a grey one. Slade understood what the boy had done; the Robin the Titans knew had been killed. The Robin that was his apprentice lived.

"I'll need a new name." Robin said, turning his gaze back onto the city. Slade moved then, embracing the boy in his arms. Back to sternum, they stood together watching the people walking below.

"Of course." Slade crooned into his apprentice's ear, drawing him away from the edge and leading him back to an incredibly familiar hideout. Robin was silent, following his master to the dark depths, feeling more at home here than in the Tower. Slade led him to his bedroom, Robin noticing it was the way he had left it, before Robin was presented the ever familar blacks and deep oranges of his uniform. Robin merely shook his head.

"I have my own." He whispered, removing the uniform of the Teen Titan he had been. Slade wholly approved of what his apprentice wore beneath, no doubt hidden to keep his former comrades from asking questions.

A black, skin tight, long sleeved shirt covered his torso and arms to the knuckles of his fingers. An off-white sleeve covered his arms, orange metal bands making the cloth-sleeves stationary. Black jeans tucking to combat boots covered his legs, the denim held in place by three belts, all looping through each other. Robin allowed a smirk to grow on his face, and Slade silently applauded the sarcastic-ness of it. He let his eye rake over the boy's form, heat flooding his body.

It was then he noticed the wings, devil wings beneath, angel feathers above, wonderfully built and incredibly real. Slade reached out, stroking the materials of the synthetic appendages.

"Wonderful," Slade spoke, the words muffled against Robin's ear, earning a little gasp, then a moan. "Constructed them yourself?"

"Made the whole thing by myself," Robin moaned at a harsh but loving bite to his neck.

"We'll have to test it then, hm, apprentice?"

Robin moaned in answer, Slade all but ravishing his apprentice. The elder ripped the clothes covering the dark-haired boy away, careful not to damage the wonderful costume. The clothes dropped to the floor, Slade pushing Robin back toward the bed. The boy toppled over, his master immediately upon him, mask thrown down to the pile of clothing to allow his mouth to latch onto a dusk nub, flicking the other with his fingernail until it raised. Robin was crying out beneath him, willing and wanted, crying for his master.

"Beg me, my angel of revenge. Beg me, Arioch."

Robin gasped at the attentions that followed his renaming, the apprentice crying out, every part of his body begging for attention.

"Slade! Master, please! I want you! Slade!"

Slade smiled as he bruised Arioch's chest and stomach, distracting him as he slipped two fingers into his apprentice's secret passage, both digits dry.

Arioch whimpered, his muscles tightening around the invading digits, earning soft whispers of endearments from his master. Ever so slowly, he relaxed, aware of the fingers moving inside him, so deep inside, drilling even deeper. Slade hissed as he marked his lover's collarbone, Arioch screaming his name as something deep inside was struck over and over again, inner walls tightening even as they were stretched.

Slade pulled his fingers from Arioch's passage, leaning back to pull off his own clothes. He watched his apprentice squirm and beg, though Slade forced himself to wait before driving into the willing body beneath his own. He placed his hands on Arioch's thighs and spread his legs wide, his head going between them. Good things always came to those who waited.

Arioch cried out as his lover's tongue worked its way inside him, wetting the stretched muscle, making the boy moan out his name in such a way that the elder almost came right then. But he held back, and pulled his tongue from that wonderfully warm passage. His small lover whimpered, and Slade shushed him with a gentle kiss that soon turned into domination as he sheathed himself in that welcoming heat. Arioch's arms wrapped around his shoulders as he cried out, that tight hole constricting just a bit.

"Shh, my apprentice." Slade nuzzled the boy's throat as he began to move into the smaller, slow at first until his apprentice was screaming for it harder and faster.

Slade pounded the boy into the blankets, both panting and gasping, Arioch crying out Slade's name as that special place deep inside him was struck over and over, and Slade near-ordering the boy to completion. His apprentice gave a short, choked cry, inner walls becoming a squeezing vice, passionate white spilling between them. Slade bit into the boy's shoulder as he spilled his own seed into the tight heat, collapsing on top of his lover. They snuggled, something Slade figured he could get accustomed to, if only for the smaller's sake.

Slowly, he pulled out of his apprentice's body, reveling in the little mewl that escaped Arioch as he did. He brought the smaller into his arms, tucking him against his side. Arioch snuggled against him, mewing at the attentions.

"Forever, master." Arioch said sleepily, yawning a little as he snuggled close.

"Forever, my apprentice," Slade echoed, taking the smaller's arm in his hands, making a cut along the length of his forearm with a flash of steel that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He repeated the cut on his own arm, and pressed the wounds together.

Arioch was confused, but not so much at the 'how' but the 'why'. He looked up at his master, head tilted for answers. Slade only gave him a smile, and pulled their arms apart, ripping up sheets to make a bandage for both of them.

"Forever, Arioch."


Fin.
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Mm. The fluffier and smuttier version of the original naming scene. Done by my beloved muse, who I utterly worship for the lovely gift. So, I wrote nothing of this chapter.