Title: Everything and Anything
Authors: Katarik and Yami no Kaiba
Beta: Cosmicastaway
Fandom: Animated Teen Titans
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Robin/Red X, Robin/Slade, Slade/Robin, Red X/Robin

Summary: Sometimes, magic can do a lot more than screw with a person's physical being.
Disclaimers: Slade, Red X, and Robin are not ours, DC Comics owns the original characters, and the animation company and animators of the Teen Titans cartoon own these particular versions.
Notes: Placed some time after "The End".

*---* What Started It. *---*

Katarik: Cat people. I love cat people.

Yami: ^_^ Robin needs to be a cat-boy.

Katarik: ...dude yes.

Katarik: Ahahahahahahaha! I can see it now.

Katarik: Beast Boy: Robin, you have cat ears. And a tail. Is there something you’d like to tell us?

*---* Everything and Anything *---*

Robin hisses, actually hisses, and that startles him enough to realize that whatever magic Mumbo Jumbo hit him with screwed something up.

As though the ears and the tail--and the claws--weren't enough. Now he hisses.

Red's rich laughter fills the night air. "Don't throw a hissy-fit, Kid. Your mother might spank you."

All right, that's it. Robin jumps at him, too furious to note that his spine moves differently. But he reacts to the alteration quickly enough to still knock Red to the ground.

Red just smiles behind his mask, reaching up to scratch at the base of the new furry ears peeking through Robin's black spiky hair. "Cute, Kid. I like the new look."

Robin wants to hiss, but he also wants to purr and melt into the caress. Red's hand feels amazingly good.

Red reaches up with his other hand, taking off Robin's mask. Robin blinks confused slitted-pupil blue eyes at Red X, before he seems to realize what the thief did.

Robin hisses at him, nails digging into the Kevlar material of the boy's outfit. "Give that back."

"C'mon, Kid. Lighten up. What's wrong with showing your face? Unless," Red's voice is smug and he knows it, "you don't want anyone knowing who you are. Including your friends. Do you take off the mask for them?"

Robin's furry ears flip back. "Dominos fall because one is knocked over," he hisses, balancing precariously on one hand to make a snatch for his mask.

Red laughs and arches up against the catboy. Robin is *supposed* to fall over here... but he doesn't. Cats, Red has forgotten, have a truly amazing sense of balance. Robin twists, somehow, and manages to stay atop Red. And also to grab his mask.

Robin doesn’t bother to slip the mask back on over his bizarrely altered eyes. His tail flicks a bit, as he considers his captured prey. The weird, rising instincts that he's been trying to ignore surge forward, and he can't help it. He wants to *play*. "Tell you what. We're going to have a little game. I'm going to let you up. You're going to run, as I give you a head start. You win, you get away. But if I win..."

Red blinks. "Say what?" Because Robin doesn't play, you see, much as Red wants him to. Robin fights, and that's all he does. He doesn't act like--this. Like a teenager. Like Red.

Robin smiles, revealing his sharp, fang-like incisors. "You heard me. Two minutes, Red," he says, pushing off of Red's chest to backflip away.

And Red is *gone*, switching on the invisibility and heading for the sewers. He's figured out that the kid's not--heh--kidding, and Robin hadn't specified what would happen if Red lost. It might be good. It might be really good, if Red's reading him right. But it might not be, and Red doesn't want to run the risk.

Robin's smiling, swinging his legs back and forth from where he's sitting on a convenient dumpster lid. He hums a bit, a small ditty to pass the time as he waits. His eyes are *better* now, and while the Red X suit might work on the regular visible spectrum of light, it doesn't work for squat on the ultra-violet. He watches, still smiling and humming as the boy he doesn't know darts up and dashes off. As Red nears the corner out of the alley, Robin stops humming to shout, "Two minutes, little thief! Tick-tock!"

Red knows Robin can see him. He doesn't know how, or why, but he's frantically recalling information on cats: they can see UV light. They have a phenomenal sense of hearing. They can smell much better than a human. Red has no chance. But he's not giving up. He switches off the useless invisibility to save power and hopes that Robin hasn't gotten used to his new body yet. The tail is going to slow him down some until he knows how to utilize it, and a cat’s skeleton is totally different from a human's. Red might be able to outrun him, but Robin is going to catch him eventually.

Robin's ears flick, and his attention is suddenly diverted by noise and movement from farther back in the alley. There's a human shape there, but Robin can't hear any breathing. Hopping down gracefully from the dumpster, curiosity piqued, he moves to study the new object.

Which happens to have very familiar black-and-orange coloring. Robin finds himself understanding Slade a little better now; does he feel the same urge to play and to taunt and to watch his prey squirm?

Robin decides that Slade does; Slade likes to play with him as much as he wants to play with Red X right now. He smiles in response to the raised blaster. "What will you do now, Slade? Now that your bird has become a cat himself?" There is, however, time to play with Slade's toy. Something to pass the little time left.

He's faster. Stronger. The bot has no idea what hits it as Robin's staff whips off its head. "I'm bored with fighting your dolls, Slade. I like fighting you." He crouches and swiftly dissects the remains of the android, reaching in for the camera. He turns it so that the watching Slade can see his face. His eyes. "Come find me, once I finish my game."

The screen remains blank, and Robin hisses in annoyance. With Slade, silence doesn't necessarily mean consent. Throwing back the camera in disgust, Robin checks the time. Two minutes, three seconds. It's time to go.

He scents Red, and follows the smell. But the other boy is sneaky and quick--doubling on his own trail, running through water, leaving things with his trace on them behind to trick Robin. Red X is good at this, and somewhere in the back of his hunting mind Robin wonders where he learned the skills. But Robin thinks he knows where Red will go; he'll hit the sewers. Red knows that area, and it's the instinct of prey to return to its own turf. Robin just isn't sure where in the sewers he'd go or when he'll be there.

Robin also knows that he can't let Red X get to the sewers. The stench down there warps all other odors, to the point where Robin wouldn't be able to pick up the trail. Robin growls under his breath as he increases his pace. He will get to his prey before the mouse can get down to the tunnels. He's not done playing with him yet.

Robin has forgotten that Red likes to play too. And thus he runs straight into a sticky X, thrown right at his face. Robin's claws can't shred it, but he moved fast enough to not be totally pinned; the goo traps half his tail and his left leg rather than his entire body. But Robin has to get out before he can do anything, and that is easier said than done.

He is prepared though; when creating a weapon, always create a way to circumvent it, Batman's training says. The reason for the ultra-violet lapse in the Red X suit's cloaking device. He has the solvent out and is using it, dropping and rolling on the ground long before the metallic noise of Red's metal shurikens sound out as they bounce against the new alley wall.

There's no way Red stayed still, but Robin's caught his trail again. He's up and running before his conscious brain catches up with the shurikens, let alone with the continuing hunt. The thief is... there! Robin pounces, and only by a magnificent contortion of his body does Red escape. He snarls and whirls, catching Robin's chin with a steel-toed boot. Keeps running. Cats don't have great stamina, and just Robin's luck that that's one trait he hasn't gained. He can run for hours.

There's more then one way to catch a mouse, Robin knows. Red's running as fast as he can, knowing better then to look back. Robin calculates where he's going. Grabs his grapple launcher, firing above to the rooftops.

It's time to get ahead of the game.

*Shit*, the kid's heading out of the alleys. But two can get above--except that Red wants to get *below*. He swears, finds a convenient place to hide, and goes very very still. Cats, Red remembers, don't notice color. They see movement. If Red doesn't move, Robin might not see him.

Even from the higher vantage point, Robin can smell Red X. The boy's scent is like a piece of heaven, and it tantalizes Robin like the aroma of a slowly baked roast. He can't see the thief, but he can smell him. Picking up a piece of a broken glass bottle from the roof, Robin leans over, watching the alley below for signs of movement as he drops the glass from above.

Red doesn't even twitch. The glass isn't close to him, after all, and he knows why the bottle is crashing down.

Robin will have to try something else.

Robin grins. His prey is good, obviously worthy of the game. Smoking him out won't do, the mask filters of the Red X suit were designed to filter out lethal and non-lethal gases. Slipping his hand into his utility belt, Robin takes out a flash bomb. Trusting his new eyes to contract and shield him from the effects, he lets it drop, waiting for the impact.

Red flinches. That light's damn bright, and he hadn't thought to shield. The kid's _good_. Swears when he realizes he's shown his position. Whirls, kicking down the door behind him and running.

Robin's flying before he can think about it, instantly reacting to the movement of Red X. Free-falls down the two stories, landing without a hitch in a crouched position as Red knocks the door in. He's up and sprinting after the prey, tail trailing behind him, cryo-disks out and flying through the air to impede Red's escape.

Red will be his, and no one else's.

Not *even* happening. Red throws his body down to dodge the disks, rolling to the side. Just missing Robin, who turns his head to catch Red's own.

Robin hasn't put his mask back on. Red freezes at the sight of Robin's eyes: vivid blue, slit-pupilled, laughing.

Mistake.

Robin pounces, enhanced strength bearing down on the thief. Looms over the frightened Red X, savoring his victory and the sweet smell Red's exuding. "Got you, little mouse."

"Fuck *that*," Red hisses out, panic giving him strength to match. He kicks out, writhing and struggling, and manages to get Robin a few feet away. But not far enough to *do* anything. So he jumps at Robin himself, knowing that he'll lose. But he's no mouse, and he's going down fighting.

Robin's eyes widen and contract at the words, and when he finally pins Red X once more after the brief tussle, he starts *purring*. "I love it when you fight. Love it when you *run*." Robin leans down, and licks at the white plastic below the red-slashed eye.

"Ah!" Red can't stop the gasp, any more than he can stop his body from arching up. He can't really feel Robin's tongue through the mask, but he's wanted the kid since they first met and now--he's *here*. Only Red isn't in control. Robin is, and Red *hates* it.

Robin smiles, revealing his pointy incisors once more as he moves back. "Should I strip you bare, little thief? Should I take away all your layers and masks and find out what makes you tick?" Robin's pupils contract at the thought, letting Red see more of his blue eyes. Tail twitches in anticipation, and Robin moves it to brush against the inseam of Red's pants.

Red snarls even as his hips buck into the touch. He kicks out in a desperate attempt to keep his pride. Robin falls backward and Red lurches up to get out. But Robin's hand shoots forward, catching his ankle and spilling Red full-length on the floor. Robin promptly sits on his back, hands *right by* Red's mask, where Robin could remove it if he so chooses.

“But no, that would break you, wouldn't it, little thief? Unlike Slade, I'm careful with my toys..." Robin's hands tap against the sides of Red's mask, reminding the thief of what *could* have been, if he'd so wished. Instead he brings his hands to Red's collar, unsnapping the catches for the cape. Robin briefly rises to his knees in order to slip the material out from between them and sits down again before the slippery thief can get away.

Shit shit shit shit. "I'm *not* your toy," Red gasps out, drawing in a breath only to lose it on a moan when Robin very lightly strokes his neck with those damn claws. He doesn't draw blood, but the possibility is there. Robin's hand slides under the suit's material, rubbing rubbing and Red is finding it very difficult to hold the fuck *still*.

"If not mine, then whose?" Robin smiles, tail twitching. Lithe body beneath him, warm and smelling so *nice*, and--oh. *Moving* now, squirming and wriggling beneath him. Robin purrs, and massages away the tightness of the thief's muscles a little harder.

"I'm my own, bastard. And aren't you supposed to be a hero? This is something Slade would do." Red's gambling that this trick will work; it might not. Robin's hands are firm and hard against his tense muscles; Red can feel Robin's purr vibrating through him.

A small, tiny part of him rallies at that word. 'Hero'. But it's quickly smothered by the twisted thinking the cat instincts have brought up in Robin. "Hero. Villain. You of all people should know that there are no such black and white distinctions. I'm tired of the constraining restrictions that word puts on me. I want to have *fun* and if Slade's way is the more amusing path... Well. Then perhaps it's time I switched sides." Robin leans down, and *licks* at the small patch of skin that the cape's collar had protected.

Red *jerks* at that. This isn't Robin, isn't the fierce beautiful warrior who had believed so hard in justice and goodness. He had been irritating and naïve, but the world sometimes needed people like that. Red had needed to believe that people like that still existed.

But God, what Robin's doing feels good.

Robin breathes against the skin, blowing lightly to sensitize it. Part of him wants to just bare his claws, to rip the black suit between him and his prize to shreds, but it's squashed by the need to play. He's going to play with his mouse, and drive him wild. To drive the mouse near the breaking point where it's heart would burst. Besides, the thief only has the one uniform, and Robin *wants* Red X to be able to play again. "What do you want me to do, little thief?" Robin's hand slides down, to unbuckle the other boy's belt and toss it aside. "I can give you anything you want, as long as you promise to keep playing with me."

Red groans. "I want you to let me up." I want to be in control, he doesn't say, I want you to keep touching me. I like you like this, but I want to top and *you* *aren't* *Robin*. It was Robin that I wanted to play with.

Robin licks the skin again, then moves to purr in Red's ear. "Promise, first. Promise to keep playing." To emphasize which game he's talking about, Robin shifts his hips to thrust against Red's ass.

Red hisses and arches his back to shove against Robin's pelvis. "You’d trust my word? Sloppy." His voice is quieter than normal; he can't breathe very well. And the floor is beginning to become uncomfortable against him.

Robin's claws skate along Red's spine. "If you leave, I'll just go find a better playmate. Someone I *know* wants this. Wants *me*."

Red laughs, but it turns into a hiss of pleasure when Robin's hand slips around and cups him. He doesn't even bother to hide his reaction, bucking into Robin's hand--which has very kindly retracted its claws. "Slade wouldn't let you top, and even--oh, *God*--even with your new strength he's stronger."

Robin's eyes contract again. That, too, could be a game. "Want to make a bet?" Robin thrusts and *rubs* at Red X.

Red thinks about that for a minute before his brain shorts out. "If you stop touching me, there will be problems." Even though it would be kind of hot to watch, Red would immensely rather have Robin's hands on him. And he's proud of himself for managing to get that sentence out with no interrupting sounds.

Robin purrs, and lets his tail drag along the back of Red's left thigh as he keeps his hands busy. "And here I thought you wanted to be let up. Still, though, you haven't answered my question: Do you want to make a bet?"

Robin's faster. And stronger. More importantly, he's more difficult to predict. Slade might not win, and Red has lost enough tonight. "No." Red's movements have gained him leverage; he might be able to throw Robin off. Should he try?

Robin growls at the denial of another game. It’s time to finish this and move on; the thief is becoming less interesting to his twisted mind. The mouse was denying him his fun, and was denying his role in the game. Robin leans back, pupils thin slits in his narrow eyes. "You're not playing, little thief." A squeeze, and Robin works his other hand down Red’s back, slipping forward and under the black material to fondle the thief's other parts.

“Nn!" Red *thrusts* into the touch. "Make," he's panting, needs to breathe, "make up your mind what you want, Kid." Robin's hand is rubbing the sensitive skin behind his balls, thumb sliding up to circle the hole. "Pick the game you want to play, or don't play at all." Robin smirks in a predatory way. Ah, so the mouse hasn't realized yet what Robin *wants*. Stupid little mouse. "I want to play *everything*, little thief. Everything conceivable with another person, I want to do." Rubs around Red's entrance, then slips in with his thumb, stroking the inner walls. "Everything and anything, Red X. I want to play the game called *life*." Robin purrs and shivers at the sounds he's milking out of the boy below him.

Red's breathing far too hard, and every exhale is a whimper. "There's not enough *time* for everything two people can do together, Boy Virgin." Robin shoves *hard* for that comment, adding the index finger while he’s at it, and Red tastes blood on his tongue when he stifles a yell. But his body won't stop moving, arching and rubbing, and every place that Robin isn't touching seems wasted.

"Which is why I need to keep *playing*, little thief. Get as much done as possible while I still can. While I'm still *allowing* myself to." Robin fits his hips as snug as he can get them against Red's, eyes narrowed as he twists to get his tail up under Red's shirt and replacing his thumb with his middle finger.

Robin is hard against him, and his tail--really flexible tail, too, nice tail, Red likes the tail--is soft and furry on his skin. Red lets his head collapse against the floor and concentrates on remaining sane. Hand on him, trace of claw and no, Red didn't manage to stop that scream. Hates that scream. Hand inside him, twisting and crooking. Tail flicking against his upper back. Robin pressed tightly against his hips. Red thinks he might die of this, and really doesn't care.

Robin loves that scream, but he’ll be gentle; killing and breaking the mouse would mean one less willing playmate for him. Now that Red X finally understands the bigger picture, the little thief is worth playing with again. "I read once that a person can get off just from being touched. Am I not doing it right?"

"Not sure. Keep doing that and I'll tell you." Red forces out the sentences through gritted teeth; Robin is doing it *exactly* right. Where the hell had he learned to touch like that? Doesn't matter, once Robin starts thrusting more viciously against him. Red has much more important things to think about, like the pressure against his prostate that just isn't deep enough. "*Harder*, God, *Robin*", and the last word is a whine.

Robin purrs, pupils widening as he smiles that crazed grin of his. "Do that again, and I might." Brushes his fingers lightly in again, letting his tail use the approximate amount of pressure.

Red's learned what makes this Robin tick, and pride or no--he wants to come. Now. "Please--", the word is whimpered, or whined, or something, Red doesn't care anymore he just hears that it was nowhere near his normal voice. He'd beg again if it meant he could have this.

That's even *better* than hearing the boy whine his name in need, and he slips out his fingers, coating them with lube from his belt. Waits for the telltale mewl from Red before *shoving* them in, hitting that spot just as hard as he wants to. "You make such pretty little sounds, thief," he moans, furry tail brushing up Red's spine.

That sound wasn't little; Red's throat stings and he knows he drew blood biting his lip to quiet his yell. He's so close, and if Robin does *one more thing* he's going to come. Red can smell his own arousal, taste his own blood, and he’s *certain* that Robin can scent it too.

Robin growls. There's the smell of blood in the air, and he knows it wasn't his. His mouse is *injured* now, and he can't help himself; Robin leans down and *bites* the side of Red's neck.

Red's entire body tenses when Robin's new fangs pierce the side of his throat. He'd be grateful that the kid avoided all the major blood vessels if his mind hadn't been entirely occupied thrusting back onto Robin's hand and coming all over Robin's other fist. He collapses onto the floor and focuses on breathing, vaguely feeling the kid follow him down.

Robin licks at the small wounds he's made, while petting one last time before slipping his hands totally out of Red's pants. Brings his come-covered hand up to lick away the mess. "Mmm... Tell me when you’re ready to play again, little thief."

Robin slips away as Red lies slumped on the floor. Red hears the other boy going out the door and manages to raise himself up on one hand. Red would bet his suit that he knows where Robin's going: Slade. And he's ready to play again *now*. But it isn't his turn, and he likes birds better than cats anyway.

It's time to find his next playmate, Robin thinks, his grappling hook out and tethered, reeling him up to the rooftops. And the game to find Slade will be the best yet. But first he needs to grab Slade's attention, to show Slade he's done playing his first game.

Now how to do that? He can't steal things; that his values won't permit. Plus the Titans would find him, and that would be--awkward. He could head to Slade's old lair; the man probably keeps tabs on it just in case. Hmmm. Multiple options; which one works best?

Robin thinks about it, and then grins. What better way to grab attention, in this day and age, then to crash a broadcast? There's the opening of the new City Hall, after all, and that's sure to bring the media. Turning in the right direction, Robin's off, bounding and flipping from rooftop to rooftop.

He arrives on the selected rooftop, crouched, tail flicking back and forth. This, too, is a game, and he needs to think it through carefully...

How to do this? He doesn't carry the technology for crashing a broadcast on him all the time, but he knows how to hack them even without the tools. Still--he doesn't want to wear the 'R' when he breaks a law. Besides, he knows what would catch Slade's attention even more: the Apprentice uniform. Which he also doesn't carry. But he keeps Slade's mark in his belt as a reminder. It's a simple matter to replace the 'R' with the 'S' and break in.

He pulls the switch and moves in, knocking out the single security guard. The crews are on-site, and it's a quick run-in to find the needed hacking equipment and terminal.

It was simple getting into the terminal; just breaking the glass window, undoing the lock and letting himself in. He has the equipment, a video cam and a wire feed. And now, before him is the labeled network hook up on the switch board. All he needs to do is decide what to say, start the recorder, and plug in to the port with the little post-it note that has "City Hall" written on it.

So what should he say? 'Slade, I want to fuck you.' Possible, but it lacks a certain style. 'Come play with me, I'm bored.' Also possible, if he wants to sound like a petulant two-year-old, which he doesn't. Hmm. Slade’s difficult to hunt; it is immensely easier to let Slade find him. Except that tonight he wants a challenge.

Another game, then... Challenge Slade to come get him within a set time limit. If Slade won, Robin would give him anything he wanted. But if Robin won, he got to do whatever he wanted to Slade... Blue eyes contract at the sweet thoughts of the things he wants to do to Slade. Nibbling on his lower lip, Robin refocuses on the present and flicks on the recorder, checks the time to make sure the broadcast is still going and plugs into the feed.

And three, two, one, live. "Hi, Slade. You didn't take me up on my invitation; I'm disappointed. But I'll offer a new one. Come find me--three-hour time limit--and I'll give you anything you want, so long as it doesn't involve messing up anyone else. If you don't find me... you give me anything *I* want. Same condition." Robin feels himself grin. That's going to get *someone's* attention, all right. Time to go now.

Robin switches the feeds back before leaving, whistling as he heads out of the building, passing the downed security guard on the way. There's little guarantee that Slade will have seen the announcement as it aired, but Robin knows how these things go. Someone will call in, complaining about their interrupted program, and in no time at all the media stations of Jump City will be all over the new cape angle, speculating about it--but most importantly, jamming the air waves with a copy of the announcement in fifteen to thirty minutes.

And while he doubts that Slade keeps an eye on the stations, he is absolutely certain that Slade keeps more than an eye on *him*. As well as on the police bands, which will have noticed that someone hacked the broadcast right... about... *now*. And there was that Slade-bot earlier--Slade will know. Very soon.

Let the games begin.

Robin takes out his grapple launcher, and moves to the high grounds. There are all sorts of good spots to hide in Jump City, but most are boring. Even while playing one game, he can play another, so Robin heads off to the nearest park, intent on using the equipment as he waits for the beginning of the chase, and hopefully getting some of the local kids into playing a game.

He's involved in a game of Dodgeball, about fifteen minutes later, when he hears something moving two alleys away. Something that doesn't breathe. Slade-bot. Damn. Slade's faster than he'd thought, even considering that it's Slade. He tosses the ball and runs.

It's more fun to be the chaser, to be the cat in the game, but Robin likes this too. The feeling of being hunted by a worthy predator. And Slade always has been a worthy predator. But Robin's not just any dumb prey, he wants to *win* this game, even if he technically wins either way. He wins because Slade's playing with him now, and that's all he really wanted. Robin angles out of the back streets for the more crowded shopping district.

The problem is, of course, that there he'll be *noticed*. More people means he'll be harder to follow, but it also means that he'll be easier to track, especially since the uniform isn't exactly subtle. Besides--*shit*.

His new senses are *much* better, so he can hear the slight whirr of machinery. Trackers. Bugs. Slade fucking *bugged* his uniform!

He's going to need new clothes. Luckily, shopping districts are chock-full of such stores, but Robin doesn't want those ordinary preppy clothes he'd usually get. His entire being wants to flaunt every law ever conceived.

Robin heads to Hot Topic.

By the time he's finished, Robin is wearing ridiculously loose black jeans with chains that will make far too much noise when he runs, a tight black shirt with 'Question Authority' embossed on it--in orange, Robin thought it a nice touch--and a black leather collar. With silver spikes. He is the very picture of a rebellious teen, except for the ears and the tail. He'd had to cut a hole in the jeans to make them comfortable. On the up side, he's less noticeable and no longer bugged.

He brings the tags up to the counter and pays for the new clothes, stuffing his old ones in the bag the hero-worshiping cashier provides for him. He'll dump these on a rooftop. He's already emptied the belt of all its weapons, stuffing them into the pockets of his jeans. It's time to play the game some more, and this time on an *even* field.

He wanders back out into the mall, still not wearing the mask. A few girls stare at him invitingly, and he smiles back. He can wait, after all, and that's just another game. The Slade-bot may well know he's here, but he doubts it will follow him. Too obviously mechanical. Slade will need to send human servants or come himself. Unmasked. Robin feels his tail twitch and his fangs show at the mere thought.

It's a very, very nice thought. Slade could be *anyone* around him, watching him right now with his own eye instead of through cameras and monitors. Robin wishes he could know what Slade thinks: Would he be disgusted by Robin's choice of clothes? Or proud that Robin had found the tracers? Or, and this one Robin really loves, would Slade *appreciate* the sight of Robin in a collar?

But it's time to leave; the Titans are still looking for him, and both Raven and Cyborg are smart enough to run a trace of his bank account's debit card. Robin moves to the exit of the mall, already planning on hitting the art museum next. He smiles and sways invitingly at every look he gets.

And he gets a *lot*. Robin's never really appreciated just how attractive he can be, and he finds himself simultaneously amused, aroused, and vaguely disturbed at all the avaricious eyes aimed in his direction. The art museum is a bit far to walk in his current outfit, and they have an Ancient Egyptian exhibit he really would like to see. He catches a bus, and smirks a bit at everyone wondering what the boy that had hijacked the station had wanted. And who was this Slade character, anyway?

If Robin won tonight, he'd soon know.

The ride is interesting, to say the least. His sharp eyes have spotted Beast Boy in a falcon's form flying overhead through the window. His ears flick as they recognize the mechanical sounds of Slade-bots being passed over the sounds of automobiles. Although he hopes Slade will be the one to catch him, or for himself to win the bet, there's still the chance for the Titans to find him first.

It adds a nice spice to the game.

Because even if no one else had recognized him without the mask, they certainly had. And since they know the significance of the 'S' he'd worn, they also know he'll be unpredictable. For a moment he flinches, imagining their reactions once Mumbo's spell wears off and he is unable to let what he really wanted loose. Then the cat inside rises to the surface again, and cats do not have friends. He lets the thoughts of them go, and focuses on the hunt.

The bus comes to his stop, and Robin smiles at the still confused citizens as he gets off. The art museum is on the south side of the city, and is one of the refurbished old structures. The architecture of the building is itself a piece of art, and Robin pauses to take in the wonderful sight of the marble and the etched curves and pillars of the museum.

But the art museum closes in two hours, and he has only that amount of time before the bet ends. He doesn't want to waste it, betting that Slade will track him to the museum before time is up. So he enters, blessing the fact that he carries cash as well as a debit card. No need to make this any *easier*, after all.

Robin pays the entrance fee, ignoring the question from the attendant about his cat-like appearance. The security guards give him suspicious looks, and considering the amount of meta-human trouble in Jump City, Robin nods in approval of their suspicion.

He wanders in, looking idly for the Egyptian exhibit. In his current cat-like state, he thinks it will be interesting.

And so it is, once he manages to find it. Which takes a while. Beautiful things that he'd like to steal, and Robin muses that he and Red X are really rather alike.

Robin stops in front of one of the larger statues of Bastet.

For some reason, he has a yearning to curl up into the lap of the sitting statue, to rub his head into the curled palms and purr for all he’s worth. It's so *odd* to feel that way, and... A heavy, large hand is on his shoulder.

*Shit*. How had he missed the sound of someone breathing behind him? Robin doesn’t move his head, merely slews his gaze to the side; tall, strong-looking, quiet mover. Slade? If so, why hasn't he mentioned Robin's outfit?

“The sculptor of this piece was highly intuitive to the nature of the Goddess, don't you think?" The man is in profile, and all Robin can make out is the left side of his face. But Robin would know that voice anywhere.

"I don't know much about Egyptian goddesses, but it appears that she has a definite personality in the piece." Robin glances at his watch, but Slade answers his unspoken question.

"It has been three hours--and one minute--since you issued your challenge".

Robin turns to Slade, away from the odd longing created by the statue. "The museum's closing. Shall we take this elsewhere?"

Slade shrugs slightly. "Based upon the rules you set--which I did not agree to, while we're on the subject, and thus am not necessarily bound to honor--you are in charge." He gestures politely for Robin to lead the way. "Pick somewhere."

Robin purrs, so deeply that it makes his chest vibrate. Curling his tail around Slade's other wrist, Robin moves off to the exit of the museum, tugging Slade playfully to follow him.

Slade does so, amused as well as slightly disturbed. After seeing Robin--unmasked, wearing *his* mark--he'd had no choice but to search. Unfortunately, Robin had discovered his tracers a bit too soon; five, ten minutes later and Slade would have had him before the three hours ran out.

Robin leads Slade to an apartment building five blocks away. Inside, Robin takes Slade into an out-of-order elevator, taking out a key from his pocket to open the control box. There's another floor button hidden under the casing. At Slade's questioning look, Robin smiles and replies, "Backup outposts. In case there was an emergency and I couldn't get to or go back to the Tower."

Slade nods in comprehension. "Clever. Did you go somewhere like that when the Tower was taken by the HIVE mercenaries?" He pauses. "And why, pray tell, are you not only revealing that you have such outposts, but going so far as to show one to me?”

"First off, yes, I did go to one such outpost. Magic-caused wounds aren't exactly as easy to bounce back from as one would think. Second, just because you know where one is, doesn't mean you know how *many* or *where* the others are, and none of the others are hidden in the same way. Besides, surely you know me well enough to realize I'd have a fall-back plan. Third, we need an appropriate setting for what I want to do, and frankly I don't want to go to some cheap insect-infested motel. Any more questions?" Robin smirks at Slade, slitted eyes watching him intensely as he pushes the button and leans against the side of the elevator, waiting for it to reach the designated floor.

Slade hums, thinking. "Why did you issue your challenge in the first place, and why aren't you wearing your mask, and why do you have the attributes of a cat?"

Robin purrs for a moment, eyelids drooping lazily. "I'll answer those backwards, shall I? One, Mumbo Jumbo robbed a bank approximately six hours ago. I think you're smart enough to figure that one out. Two, Red grabbed it and I just haven't bothered to put it back on. Not like it matters. For all anyone knows, this eye color could be from the magic. And third..." Robin pushes off the wall, slinking up close to Slade. Whispering, he let his tail slide along Slade's covered abs. "I wanted to play. I really didn't care about the outcome, Slade. As long as you played with me, I won."

Slade feels his breath hitch, just a little, and knows Robin heard it by the way his eyes spark and contract. "I find it difficult to believe that I was your first choice--or your only option--for a game. So why did you issue the challenge to me?"

Robin grins lazily. "Remember number two?"

Slade raises an eyebrow. "Of course. An interesting and entertaining puzzle, that thief. But you still have not answered my question, Robin."

Robin lets his tail sweep across Slade's abs again. "Come now, Slade. How do you think Red X got *close* enough to take my mask off?"

"I already know, Robin. I can smell him on you. But you have. Not. Answered. My. Question. Why me?"

Robin hisses lightly, eyes dilating and contracting slightly. "Don't think you can talk to me like that. *I* won the game, Slade."

"I was a *minute* past the time limit, Robin. One minute does not make a difference. And I did not agree to your terms in the first place, therefore I am not bound to honor them: as I have already informed you."

"And you know one minute makes a world of difference in a fight. Fighting and chasing are just other games. You played the game. That means you silently agreed to the terms, Slade."

"Silence does not, with me, necessarily mean consent. And, Robin? You were wearing my symbol. You knew I'd come."

Robin's eyes contract again. "Perhaps. Yet if you haven't consented to the terms, why haven't you attacked me yet?"

Slade shrugs. "Why should I? I am quite interested in your--transformation. Are you doing what you wanted to do and for whatever reason could not, or are you doing things that you never even considered before?"

Robin blinks, not having considered the question beforehand. "I..." He's saved by the bell, as the elevator doors open. Distracted by their arrival to the floor, he backs off, smirking as he waves a hand towards the backup outpost. "Guests first, no?"

“How very polite of you, Robin. But it is so rude to enter before one's host." And Slade doesn't want Robin at his back. Not today, not when the boy is in a mood that could rival his own.

No predator will show his back to another predator, and Slade is hunter to the core.

Robin cocks his head curiously. He gets the odd feeling that they'll be here all day if they go on with this. Although that sounds like an interesting game, the elevator is wired to send a tracking beacon to the Titan communicators after a certain period of time if the weight distribution isn't alleviated, in case he fell unconscious before reaching the hideout. "Alright."

Robin turns and heads out of the elevator, feeling Slade at his back. He knows Slade won't attack him; the man is almost a cat himself: woefully curious, enjoying vicious games, and with a taste for birds.

The entire floor is made up to be a single open live-in apartment, with cupboard islands sectioning off the spaces, except for the washroom. The whole floor is laid out before them, a living room with a radio and television being the first space one comes into from the elevator. To the left, over one of the counters, is a fully equipped and efficient medical lab. Forward and to the right is the supposedly-stocked kitchen with a power generator next to the fridge. Behind it is the washroom, and to the side of the kitchen is the sleeping space, if the twin-sized bed and rolled up sleeping bags mean what they usually do. The closet is right behind it, to the side of the washroom.

Slade glances around, memorizing the interior. He has no concrete plan for what Robin wants, but... if what he scents, and what Robin's behavior had indicated, is in fact true--he can work with what he thinks Robin desires. It isn't, after all, as though he hadn't wanted something quite similar. And still does, though Robin being in control is not what he had had in mind.

Robin smiles over his shoulder, furry ears flicking a bit. "Make yourself at home. Want a beverage?" Robin heads to the kitchen, slipping around the cabinet islands a bit more gracefully than usual.

"No, thank you. Is this really the game you had in mind? Because if so, I shouldn't have bothered with hunting you."

Robin stops, hand on an upper cabinet lid over the sink. Was his playmate considering leaving? He wants the other cat, wants him for a mate, and he's worked *hard* to get them to this point. But he isn't willing, yet, to take on anything but a dominant role here... "Of course this isn't the game. I'm thirsty, is all. Figured I'd offer since I was heading in the direction anyway." Robin proceeds to get out the powdered milk and a glass, intent on making himself a glass of milk.

"How kind of you." Slade is off-balance. He had never expected to be standing here, in Robin's own hideaway, being offered something to drink. He hadn't expected, not seriously, to ever see Robin wearing his mark again. "Why did you keep the 'S' from your time as my apprentice?" But he isn't going to leave.

Robin smiles into his glass, having finished making the concoction and cleaning up. Turning, he leans against the counter and sips at the milk before answering. Not as good as fresh milk, which would have turned if it had been stocked, but it would do. "Being a bit personal there, aren't we?"

Slade shifts his weight a bit. "Under the circumstances, Robin, no." Any other time, yes, and probably now too--but it's not like Slade really *cares*.

Robin gives him a sultry smile. "Normally I'd say because it was a piece of evidence. But I think we both know why I really kept it."

Slade tilts his head to the side and subtly alters his stance. "Did you want me then, Robin? If so... why didn't you do something about it?" He knows the way he's standing now is a blatant invitation, but it had been then as well. Every move, every breath, had been an invitation.

Robin lays the glass aside to pace slowly closer to Slade. "Of course I wanted you then. I've wanted a lot of things in my life, Slade. And mostly I've denied myself those things *because* I wanted them, or because I'm *not supposed* to want them." Closer, past the dividing island. "Just because I didn't let myself have them, though, didn't stop the want."

Slade holds himself very still. He knows that his eye is narrowed, but that his pupil is dilated with lust. He knows that Robin can smell the desire he's exuding. He doesn't know what Robin is going to do next.

Robin stops, a few feet away from Slade. "You already know what game I want to play, Slade. I can tell. So what are you waiting for?"

Slade capitulates. He can tell that Robin won't be satisfied with anything less than a dominant role, and he had lost their game. Even with the trackers, and yes, he's proud of the damned child for finding them. "If I recall correctly, Robin, your precise words were that I would give you anything you wanted if you won the game. Which you did. So what are *you* waiting for?"

Robin's eyes contract to the thinnest of slits as he moves in what can only be called a *pounce* onto Slade's form. "For you to agree to play," he purrs after the two hit the ground--and then licks a stripe up the pale skin of Slade's face, unmasked for entry into the museum and to keep the game sporting.

Slade holds in his gasp. "I agree to play." He brings up his hands in a quick move and traps Robin's head between them, looking closely at the boy: flushed cheeks, darkened lips, pointed ears flicked forward, white fangs bared, blue eyes with their black pupils like snake's eyes and so *hungry*. Beautiful.

Robin rubs his face slightly against the hands holding him, eyelids dropping in pleasure. "And perhaps, after, we can play a game you want," he whispers, hands already moving to unstrap the leather armbands on Slade's wrists.

Slade laughs. "What makes you think this wasn't the game I wanted?" He slides a hand down Robin's throat, lingering to rub over the collar. If he had designed this for Robin to wear, it would not have had spikes. It would have had Robin’s mark, and his own, and they would have been united.

Robin purrs at the slide. "I know you, Slade. This may have been the game you wanted, but not the way you wanted to play it." Hands finished, the leather guards set aside, Robin pulls away. "And this isn't where I wanted to play. Let's get to the bed."

Slade smirks slowly. “Robin--the bed won’t be big enough for what I want to do to you. What I want to have you do to me.”

Robin shivers at the lurking promise under those words. "In that case, we can stay right here." Robin sets his sights on a most opportune prize: Slade's belt, and getting it off of the older cat. "And what, exactly, did you have planned?"

Slade hums. "A great many things, my Robin." He helpfully arches his hips so that Robin can extricate the belt, and takes advantage of the movement to run his hands over Robin's chest to his stomach. Under the shirt, touching the hard muscle of his abdomen, pushing the shirt until it's rucked up under his arms so that Slade can play with his nipples, draw patterns in the slowly-beading sweat.

Robin strains against the touch, licking his lips at the feeling it induces in him. Unlike Red X, who was just a mouse to be played with and discarded at Robin's leisure, Slade is also a cat-like being. Cats love to play, and Slade knows that as much as Robin feels it in every fiber of his being. "Mmmm... Tell me the relevant ones to this situation, then." He pulls Slade's pants and boxers down to the man's knees.

Slade hisses and *twists*. "I had planned on touching you like this. Of tying you down, perhaps. Of listening to you beg for me to put my hands on you. Of a partner, once you had completed your apprenticeship. Of a mate worth my time and energy."

Robin tenses at Slade's slight abuse, claws scratching lightly at the man's thighs in retaliation. His tail flicks, ears perking at the words. "A worthy mate. How odd we think the same thing. But those are the things you'd be doing to *me*. What do you want done to *you*?"

Slade shrugs a little and enjoys the sensation of Robin shifting easily atop him. "In all honesty, Robin, I had not anticipated that you would take a dominant role, and our relationship has always been about my actions and your *re*actions. I had not progressed farther than wanting you to willingly touch me. What had you wanted to do to me?"

Robin's pupils contract once more, leaving the blue of his irises to become more pronounced. "Everything and anything," he purrs for once more that day, bringing his left hand up to lick the palm.

Slade barely manages to quiet his rapid inhale. That leaves--a great many options open. The bed *definitely* wouldn't have been big enough, even though the floor will be cold if he ever does take off his clothes completely.

Robin's pupils relax back to their normal size, taking in Slade's figure below him. Believing his hand to be properly slick enough, he leans down, wrapping his left hand around Slade's cock, and rubs his thumb over its head. Staring into Slade's one eye, he continues in a silky voice, "I want to *do* everything and anything two people can do together, even the things I've never heard about before." His tail trails down Slade's leg, wrapping around the mastermind's ankle.

Slade's head snaps back, crashing against the floor as he fights back a moan. "Not enough time for that, Robin, nor enough preparations made," he's able to grit out. "Not here, at least. Not now." He raises his head again to stare back at Robin, voice slightly hoarse. "Had you done this as my apprentice, there would have been ample quantities of both to teach you 'everything and anything'."

Robin narrows his eyes and hisses, hearing the denial of his wants for the second time that day. The claws of his other hand scratch swiftly down Slade's civilian shirt, cutting through the fabric and breaking the skin in some places. "Then we will just have to *improvise* to get as much done as we can. The cupboards aren't for show, after all. This place was stocked to be a fall-back in case the Tower was ever taken. There's plenty of supplies and equipment here: living, medical, technical, and fighting." He pushes the torn fabric aside to lick at the skin, continuing his other hand's motions.

"*Wonderful*," Slade spits out, bucking into Robin's hand and scoring short nails down his chest. Pretty pretty *deadly* boy, so much they can do together, and he really wishes that he'd won the game. But if he pushes too far too fast, Robin might stop, and that's not something Slade's willing to risk. He's much more experienced than Robin; he can turn the tables later. Besides, Robin wanting this enough to *finally* initiate something was worth waiting for, worth losing the control.

Robin continues in his ministrations; the mixed tastes of Slade's sweat, skin, and drops of blood are making him heady and needy. Everything's narrowing down to one thing: sex, the ways to go about it, and the applications of items in the room to achieve that goal. His left hand moves from rubbing to jerking, and he lets his other hand move to slide down Slade's closest arm, wrapping around the man's wrist to tug it away from his own chest and pin it against the floor, twining his fingers into Slade's.

Robin's stronger now than he was--Slade is going to need to discover that spell, (what if it isn't temporary?) makes a mental note to track down that magician as soon as this is over--but Slade is still stronger. If he really wanted to, he could break Robin's hold on him. But, for now, he won't bother. What he will do is contract the muscles in his abdomen to yank himself up and *taste*.

Robin mewls at the feel of Slade's warm mouth on his neck; licking, sucking, and kissing. It's enough to make him stop all his other movements and buck against Slade's thigh. "Slade," he moans, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks at the pinpoint sensations.

Slade's marking his territory, Robin knows it, just like Robin had marked his mouse earlier. But Robin isn't a mouse, he's a fellow cat--mate, he's Slade's mate and Slade is *his*--and he's going to mark *back*. Just as soon as his brain starts working again.

That's when Slade *bites* down, and it kicks his brain into restarting. Robin growls, squeezing with both hands before he starts again, ruthlessly stripping away at Slade's cock as fast as he can go. Licks his way up and around Slade's chest, taking one nipple into his mouth to suck and nibble at it.

Slade had let Robin's throat fall away from his mouth when Robin had squeezed, so there's nothing to muffle that groan as his free hand slides down Robin's chest and firmly strokes the bulge in his pants. "I meant to tell you, Robin--interesting outfit. I especially like the black-and-orange on the shirt." He has to keep control. He has to keep control. The mantra repeats itself in his brain.

He doesn't think he'll be able to keep control.

Robin purrs in his throat, letting it vibrate in his chest and shoves into Slade's touch, rubbing against the jean cloth between him and Slade's palm. The chains jingle at the move, making his ears flick and bringing Slade's words back to his mind: tying Robin down. He lets up on Slade's chest to reply. "The sentiment seemed appropriate."

Slade laughs, a little brokenly; Robin is still touching him. "The colors suit you." He vaguely remembers reading a story by Kipling about the Wild Cat that walks alone and needs no one else. Slade doesn't *need* Robin, at least he thinks not, but he wants him. And vice-versa.

“The only color I don't wear well is hot pink. And I was talking about the words in accordance to the colors." Robin bends enough to rub the cool metal spikes of his collar against Slade's skin as he mouths at the juncture of Slade's neck and shoulders. Slade's held out remarkably well so far, and Robin wonders at how much farther the man's stamina can go. Slips his fingers out of Slade's hand to rub his thumb in circles around Slade's pulse.

"Mm. Any particular authority, or were you thinking of a general anarchy?" His hips aren't still; they're very slightly pumping into Robin's fist, and he's leaning most of his weight on his still-pinned arm. He's breathing fast and a little a-rhythmically, but he hasn't lost control yet.

Robin huffs into Slade's neck, smirking in fond remembrance. "Christ, don't say that. There's a vigilante back in Gotham that goes by Anarchy. Guy's smart, but his beliefs are so out there; keeps ranting how he's 'the voice of the people'... Though I did like that one time he tagged Batman's cape."

Slade nearly chokes on his own laughter. It doesn't help that Robin is snickering against his chest, warm and willing and lovely boy who hasn't stopped touching. "The Dark Knight had his cape tagged? For this I want photographic proof."

Robin smiled after his laughing fit, curling in and letting his hair tickle Slade's skin. "You think Batman would let something like that get photographed? I saw the cape though, before it was scrubbed free of the paint."

Slade moans very softly; Robin is rubbing his head against Slade's chest in rhythm with the slow, strong movements of his hands. It's an almost unconscious caress, pushing into his skin like a cat being petted. “Let me guess. An 'A' with a circle around it." He interrupts the motion to remove Robin’s shirt completely, purring a little when Robin immediately moves back to his old position.

”I said he was smart, not original." He licks at Slade's chest some more, and was greeted with the same mingled taste as before. The sounds, tastes, and smells are all clinging and heavy; it's like the laughing fit had driven them back and it all rushed in like a wave to swamp him. "I'm going to fuck you, you know."

Slade *jerks*. "Somehow I'd guessed you'd want to do that." Hell. He hadn't let someone dominate him in years. But--it was Robin. The boy was as close to an equal as anyone save the aforementioned Dark Knight or Lady Shiva could be, and he wasn't interested in them.

Robin lifts away from Slade's chest, flashing a predatory smile. "Everything and anything. Something to remember when I'm in my right mind again. When I normally wouldn't dare even think about doing these things, let alone with a worthy person like you." Eyes contract once more in thought, smile slipping a bit. "I'll probably brood over it, secretly wanting to do it again, but not letting myself. Or cry, because I hate myself for doing it at all."

Slade bites his own lip. He just bets that Robin is *pretty* when he cries. Wants to taste his tears. "Then I am going to fuck you also. Hard enough that every time you move you'll feel me, hard enough that every time you breathe you will remember that you are mine."

Robin's pupils dwindle to the merest slits, hand jerking and twisting at Slade's erection, before letting go to move under and behind it, moving to pinpoint Slade's entrance. "That'll make the torment all the sweeter," he whispers, a low purr rumbling in his chest. His tail uncurls from around Slade's ankle, moving up Slade's leg to take over the role of his absent hand. "Knowing you pillaged into the greatest depths of me, knowing what it's like and wanting it again, but not allowing it of myself."

Slade's voice shatters on a vicious moan, throat curving back and far too vulnerable, at the feel of soft fur on so-sensitive skin and Robin's hand rubbing heavy circles into him. He can't say a word, can't do anything but pant and twist up and let Robin hold him down.

Robin's right hand moves fast to press down on Slade's sternum, pinning his mate to the floor as he lets Slade move between his left hand and his tail. "Say my name. Say you want me, want this."

"R--Robin," voice broken and so damn *needy*, this is why he doesn't let anyone else be in charge and how could he have forgotten how this always makes him feel, "If I didn't want you, do you really think--game or no--that I would have ever permitted you to touch me?"

"Of course I know that." Robin shrugs, letting his tail squeeze a bit before starting to slide around Slade's erection into the man's movements. "It's just that in sex-ed class they say that verbal agreement should be given before one goes too far." Purrs lowly and leans over to nip at Slade's lower lip. "Besides, I've always thought your voice was hot. Hearing you admit that you want me in this way has always been something I wanted."

Slade manages to find enough breath to snicker. Sex-ed class? But he stops laughing when Robin growls into his open mouth and *bites*. "I want you. I want this." He whispers the next phrase, knowing that Robin will be able to hear him. "Dick Grayson."

In some part of his mind, on a far-off detached island, a voice screams out vicious curses in alarm, anger, and fear. It is but a small nuisance in Robin's mind, hard to hear and easily ignored. Purrs and rubs their cheeks together as he slips in two fingers.

"So you do know my name." Slade hisses and jerks against him before stilling; they'll need lube, eventually, but not quite yet. Slade can take it. "What's yours?"

Robin can feel the constriction of Slade's vocal cords. "I don't give information as sensitive as that away for free, little kitten." That's... That's just like Slade though, frustrating him to no end. However, Robin can live with what he has for now. And what he has... is a great prize indeed, as he scissors his fingers inside Slade.

Slade arches into it. Robin is a child, and, save for the dalliance with Red X--whose scent is demolished by their own, which satisfies some instinctive part of himself--a virgin. But he's good at this, and Slade has an image in his mind of Robin fingering himself, stretching and shoving back onto his own fingers with Slade's name on his lips.

"I've read a lot about this, but I don't have much practical experience. If I do anything wrong, you'll need to stop me," Robin says seriously, right hand sliding over to Slade's right nipple, rubbing and pinching it in rhythm with his tail's squeezing and sliding.

Slade clenches his fingers, hoping the slight pain will aid him in holding back the quiet sounds he is making. It doesn't. Innocent beautiful *boy*, innocence he was giving up because he *wanted* this. Slade would be his first. "You haven't--done anything wrong so far." Nothing at all.

"Good to know," Robin purrs, ears perking to catch all the pretty sounds he can get from Slade. His hearing's so well-tuned now, he can even hear the sounds Slade doesn't let leave his throat and it's all so good and hot and -- he's bucking again into Slade's hand, chains jingling. "Get my pants, would you? I'm a bit... busy," he says, hands and tail *sliding* and *moving* against Slade's skin, inside and outside of the man's body.

Slade shifts the hand that Robin's riding up to the button of his jeans and manages to open it one-handed, shoving them down his thighs--damn tail’s in the way; Robin stops using it on Slade, reaching behind himself to pull it free of the hole--and petting as he goes.

Robin's air seems to disappear at the feeling of Slade finally touching him *there*, all warm and huge, and something lower than his stomach *twists* into a knot at the feeling. It's like an eternity of sensation before he can breathe again, and he pulls his fingers out of Slade. "I- I need to take you *now*."

Slade's eye *burns* when Robin stiffens and stops breathing. He strokes a little harder, slipping his hand through the briefs and flicking his nail across the head. "For that, I think, you will need lubricant."

Robin nods, swallowing a bit. "I'll," breathes a bit, trying to will himself away from his mate. Not an easy thing at all. "I'll go get some from the medical area." Has to buckle down and *jerk* himself away, though his tail seemed not to want to let go for another moment or two.

Slade smiles, very deliberately letting his hunger show through. "You do that." He closes his eyes and breathes, attempting to slow his quickly-healing body and delay his release. Meditating. *Wanting*. He has never been very good at shutting down desire.

Robin moves as fast as he can without actually running, because really, that would be undignified. Opens the correct cupboard, pulling out the surgical lubricant for the catheterization kit. Moves back, but pauses to take in Slade's form again. All laid out, and all *his*. He licks his lips once more before falling gracefully between Slade's knees.

"Mine." The word slips past his lips and he sees Slade's eye open. Bends his head down--he'd read of this, never thought he'd *do* it, but he wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to do everything--runs his mouth over Slade's perineum and feels the groan vibrate through, slides his hands under Slade's hips for better access and licks *in*.

It's weird and tastes *odd* yet still like *Slade* and faintly of himself, too. If the sounds Slade is making are any indication, though, it must feel fantastic.

Slade's hands are clenched hard to stop himself simply *dragging* the boy up, and he knows he's bitten through his lip. The most intimate kiss ever; Robin is *fucking* him with his *tongue*. And still purring, as though nothing was ever better in all the world; the noise vibrates through him and makes him *tingle*. He barely holds in a scream when Robin *sucks*.

Robin's ears perk up at the noise. He could *hear* Slade's scream, even if it wasn't born out into the air of the apartment. It makes him purr *harder* and he pushes one last time in with his tongue before backing out and rising up. He's hard, and he wants to take Slade *now*. Removes his hands from Slade's hips so that he can flip the cap on the bottle of lubricant open. He lets his tail go back to its previous position and jabs around Slade's erection as he slicks himself and Slade's entrance with the clear substance.

Pushes into *hot* *tight* *amazing* and feels his eyes roll back in his head. Robin emits a soft wail of his own, hears Slade laugh breathily. He curls in on himself, holding very still until he thinks he can move without coming, and just—whimpers.

Everything's on the brink of shattering in his mind, and for one moment--one odd, incredibly surreal moment--he's no longer the cat, no longer the thing that wants to play, chase, fight, and mate. He's the self-conscious, self-controlled boy again, the one who only thought of sex as an abstract thing that was involved in the cases he worked on and was just that thing that other people did. His eyes are wide open, pupils dilated to the fullest, and he's having a panic attack that would shame the hysterics of a born crybaby. "Oh god, oh god, this is *wrong*--” He shudders, and the moment's over and the boy is shoved back to the little distant island. The cat is back in full force, pupils slitting down as he breathes out in a hiss and *moves*.

Shoves in hard, Slade breathes out and *takes* it. Moves into it. His boy is so fucked-up, repression and control and shamed desire; Slade wants to break Robin open and listen to him being crucified to the altar of his own mind. Wants to bring him back down and resurrect him into what he could so easily have been if he were untrammeled by that morality.

Robin's breath hitches as Slade moves against him, meeting his thrusts. This is what he's been wanting for so long, and he's finally *taking* it. Tail slides up and down Slade's erection once more, curling and uncurling, brushing along the skin one moment and then gone the next, only to be back again. Everything's narrowed down to this and only this and the pleasure drowns out the sobbing in the back of his mind. The cat *purrs*, relishing in his dominance of his mate and equal.

Slade tilts his head, meeting Robin's eyes. He sees the look of near-maniacal joy on the boy’s face and knows his own must be matching it from the way Robin's breath sobs out and he can't look away. Slade barely hears his own sounds anymore, he's so caught in those damn blue eyes. He spreads his legs further and *shoves* against the next roll of Robin's hips, cry drowned out by Robin's yell and the scrabble of claws against his hips.

The cat's gone once more, mind shattering as he comes inside *his* domain, marking it in ways that can't be denied. And as the cat's lost, the boy's back once more, shuddering and keening. To him, everything is lost now, everything he's held dear to his heart, lost because he couldn't keep control. Shudders again, pupils blown once more, as tears leak down his face and he collapses against Slade. Curling into whatever comfort he can get from human contact.

Slade shifts his weight immediately, strong killer's arms holding Robin to him and stroking his hair soothingly. He's still hard, but Robin in pain has never been something he could ignore or deny. Besides, if he can turn the boy to him now--perhaps he'll submit willingly. And he had been right; Robin is indeed pretty when he cries.

"This... this shouldn't have happened," Robin whispers, body moving into and taking the comfort even if he doesn't mentally want to. "None of this entire day--oh, oh god. What about Red X? I just chased him down and *used* him--I practically raped him--" He shudders, clinging to Slade and burying as far into the man's arms and chest as he can, breath only hitching sobs.

"Do you honestly believe that, Robin? Red X is no fool, nor is he weak. If he truly wanted you to let him be, I think he could have dealt with it." Slade's voice is as firm and steady as his continued stroking. "You repress your desires, and so when given the opportunity--you did not think." He tilts Robin's head up to face him. "At any point, did you do something you had not wanted to do?"

Robin stares into Slade's eye, a small, selfish part of him grasping onto that logic like a life preserver, but- "Wants, desires; they don't matter. The fact remains, I didn't have a right nor an invitation to do what I did. I had an obligation to take him to jail and that was all I had the right to do. But I didn't leave it there and I've trespassed on another."

"Why did you have no right to touch him? You wanted him, he wanted you," Slade shrugs eloquently. "And he enjoyed it, did he not? Even hours later, you reeked of his pleasure."

"'Silence doesn't necessarily mean consent!!' I had no *right*, damn it! Wants, enjoyment, and pleasure aside, I had no *right*!" The anger surging through him calls the cat back, and it's a small--pathetic--mental struggle marked by physical shivering before the cat takes the spoils of victory once more, pupils returning to slits and a small, deep purr escaping Robin's throat. "No right, but I *liked* it. So it matters not for now, hmm?" He leans in to lick at his mate's cheek.

"For the moment, no," Slade agrees, shivering himself at Robin's rough tongue on his skin. "But it will matter later." Robin stops licking and pulls back to look into one grey eye. His tail darts between them to flick at the skin under Slade's navel and he smiles when Slade hisses.

"I won't be around for that, though. Little human boy will chain me up again in those tight bonds of control and obligation he has. I'll get to watch as he works through the mess, enjoying every moment of his frustration and self-hate. In the end, I might be chained, but I've won the game." Whispered into the skin, a promising run of tongue over Slade's lips, tail and left hand going back to the petting of Slade's erection. "I've opened the door and there's no way he can escape me now. Escape the wants and desires he's buckled down and almost extinguished."

"You said 'he'." Slade's voice is not so steady anymore. "Implying that you are not Robin. Who--or what--are you, then?" His hips are rolling into Robin's hand, and he's close--slow *down*, can’t come yet--but he can still think.

Robin's eyes sparkled with dark emotion. "Stupid, stupid little boy, he is..." Kisses Slade’s mouth hard, but briefly, right hand moving to play at the man's chest. "I'm still Robin... just the part he's shunned, the part of him he's locked away in the darkest part of his mind. Mumbo's magic has just given me a... self-awareness, so to speak. It's still splintering our mind, you see; pushing existing rifts further apart."

“From sheer curiosity, what is this day going to do to his--yours--whoever's--mind?" Slade's inquiry is panted against Robin's closed mouth, ruining the lazily unconcerned tone he had wanted. He honestly is worried; Robin might break due to this. And what an insult that would be, for a second-rate magician to let loose Robin's amoral tendencies when Slade himself could not.

Robin shrugs, smiling faintly. "If those idiots we call friends stop looking for us and actually track down Mumbo instead, everything will go back to normal. His spells terminate when his props are taken away." A pause, pupils slitting as a troubling thought occurs. "I may or may not retain my self-awareness after that point."

And in that case, Robin decides, he might as well stop answering questions and make Slade come; he still enjoys the memory of hearing Red X beg--he wants Slade to lose control before the spell ends. Before he himself disappears back into nothing more than dreams in the night.

Robin kisses Slade hard once more, but takes his time now, waiting patiently until Slade lets him *in* and he's tasting the inside of Slade's mouth for the first time. Brings his right hand to *pinch* and *twist* at the closest nipple as his tail uncurls from around Slade's erection to drag its tip down the skin and tease at his entrance.

Slade twitches, incompletely controlling his body's spasm, and bites Robin's tongue. He knows what the cat is doing, and why, but he can't think quite as well anymore. Robin's mouth has a faint trace of blood in it; other than that, he tastes of sex. And that abominable powdered milk he'd had before this started.

Robin's body jerks when Slade bites down, but the taste of blood he gets from the experience is enough to keep him there, running his tongue along the back of the man's teeth. He drops low enough to lay most of his weight down on Slade, rubbing chest against chest as he purrs and pushes his tail slightly *in*.

Robin's getting hard again, and Slade has an idea. He shoves Robin backward, laughing very softly at the curse, and crouches above him on the floor. Rubs his thumb over, presses inward a little. "Anything and everything, Robin?"

"Yesss," he hisses, eyes slitting again. Besides, apparently everything he's read isn't *enough*, seeing as Slade's still hard and hasn't come yet, even after all this. "What do you have in mind, or is it a surprise?"

Slade smiles, baring sharp teeth. "I'm going to fuck you, you know." But he'll need lube; where had Robin put it?

"Hmm.... If memory serves, you did say you'd do that *hard*." Robin kicks off the rest of his shoes and pants, tail curling around his own upper thigh.

"Your memory is correct. Where did you put that lubricant?" Slade pushes in and admires the picture: Robin is staring up at him with lust and challenge in his eyes, black tail a striking contrast against the pale skin of his thigh. Pushing back into Slade's thumb, driving it deeper inside himself, mouth open and red as he pants.

“Ahhh. Under my shirt, I believe." Pauses to pant and *twist* to get that filled feeling deeper. "Was there anything else you needed while we're at it? Fully stocked cupboards, remember." He realizes now just how *good* he had made Red X feel, back in that building on the other side of town. Makes a mental mockery of the little boy inside of him for ever thinking that something like *this*, these *feelings*, weren't *right*.

"Mm. Not for this. Perhaps later." The words are a promise which Slade devoutly hopes he will get a chance to keep. He has no objections whatsoever to ignoring Robin's foolish beliefs on right and wrong, but--he draws the line at active rape. Shaking off the thoughts, he focuses on controlling his body's inclinations and recovers the container from underneath Robin's tossed shirt.

Robin purrs as he watches Slade move, fanning his thighs open. The roles have reversed, but that’s all right; he and his mate are equals, and he has no willingness to deny his mate his own pleasure. As much as he wouldn't mind jumping ahead to the more interesting things he's read about, he hasn't done this before and he's smart enough to realize that learning how he feels about *this* would be a good indicator of what other things he might like to do.

Slade smirks when he sees Robin shifting the way his body is lying, slitted eyes still *thinking* and calculating. That will change. His hands are bigger than Robin’s and the boy is a virgin; he shouldn't shove his finger in hard and dry. He does it anyway.

Robin growls low in his throat, body instinctively arching away from the touch, ears flicking back to lay flat against his hair. His claws dig into the carpeted floor, and he has a brief moment to wish his hands had been touching Slade's chest so that at least the smell of his mate's blood would have made him heady enough to ignore the pain. He doesn't take his eyes away from Slade, keeps them open and challenging. The boy may have closed his eyes and screamed, but he isn't the boy, he is the *cat*, and cats are prideful creatures. It will take a lot more then *that* to make him fully submit.

Slade doesn't, actually, want to damage his mate greatly. He uncaps the lubricant and smears it around the hole, beginning to draw out his finger carefully. He also brings Robin's left hand back up to Slade's chest, knowing this will be easier if the boy has something other than his own pain on which to focus.

"I should cut you for that little stunt you just pulled," Robin says, claws trailing lightly on the skin he's been guided to. "I could cut you so deep that it would take years to fully fade away, if ever." He lets his tail unwrap from around his thigh to curl tightly around the wrist of the hand preparing him.

Slade's eye gleams amusement. "You could. It wouldn't be my first scar, nor would it be my last." He arches his throat back, offering. But if Robin scars him--Slade's going to scar Robin back. He wonders if Robin knows that.

He's being given the chance to mark his mate in a more lasting way then he had before. How could he refuse such a graceful and beautiful offer? He lets the pads of his fingertips brush at the skin over Slade's heart, feeling the beat and rhythm under the skin, before bringing a claw to bear and carving his symbol there. The scent of spilt blood immediately turns him on in ways that touch, pleasure, and pain just never could do it for him, the way it only turns on a predator. His eyes shudder closed and he moans, taking in the scent to the point that he can *taste* it without actually doing so.

Slade shudders. He knows *exactly* what Robin's just cut into him. Good technique, part of his mind notes--deep enough to scar, not deep enough to do lasting or worrisome damage. He snaps his head back down and reaches for the armband Robin had taken off of him earlier--and for the blade hidden there. It's his turn to mark.

Robin's still lost in the euphoria of the scent, so he only *feels* on the barest parts of his senses that Slade's moving. The next thing he knows there's a fist in his hair pulling his neck back to tense his upper body. "What-"

Slade places the blade very lightly over Robin's heart, and does not break the skin. "You cut me, Robin. I'm going to cut back." But half the *point* was the offer, which Robin had not reciprocated. "However--not the way you cut me. Unless you want me to." He's still going to draw blood in return for his own. Just not like that.

Robin's eyes narrow to slits. The cold metal makes his skin crawl. "I've said it before, Slade. Everything and anything. That's what you can have; what you can *take*." Brings his hands back down to the carpet in order to brace himself, claws digging in as he stills.

Slade clicks his tongue reprovingly. "My Robin, I already know that I can take you. I could cut you deeply enough that the scar would never fade. But I want to know if you want my mark on you." Again. He doesn't say it, but both of them hear unspoken phrases quite well.

Robin smirks. "If it hadn't been bugged, I still would have been *wearing* it when you got to the museum. What do you think that says, hmmm?" Tugs playfully against the fist in his hair, eyes shuddering at the hold. "Of course I want it. Wouldn't have been wearing it earlier, if I didn't. Wouldn't have had it on me *to* wear."

Slade bites his now-healed lip to hold back the moan. Starts carving, quick and careful slashes that won't injure Robin too much but that won't fade. When he's done, he pushes three fingers--now lubricated, he doesn't want to break his boy--inside and licks the blood away.

It hurts, of course, but Robin is able to hold back his noises and concentrate on the scent of blood once more. His blood is so much different from Slade's, the scent of a younger specimen, and even while it is on the air there’s still Slade's blood behind it, a little duller now since it isn't as fresh as his own but--oh, hot wet tongue swiping at his chest, over his heart, and the feeling of being *slicked*, *filled*, and *stretched* down *there* was back in greater quantities. He couldn't help but moan out Slade's name.

*Yesss*. For a moment Slade thought he'd actually said it, coppery blood on his tongue and Robin clenching tight around his fingers, moaning his name so prettily. A thousand dreams come true, and Slade really needs to get this spell at some point. This is going to happen again. He shoves in harder and crooks.

Robin *screams* and *thrashes* as Slade pushes against something that makes him feel like the center of a nova burst of sensation, and it doesn't *help* that Slade's other hand is still clutching his hair. He's tugging against it as for a few moments the hold and Slade's weight against him makes him feel trapped.

Cats don't do trapped well, and for a flicker of a second he's the boy again. But Slade's tongue runs over a nipple as his fist unclenches and the child gives up, admits that he wants this, stops fighting in their mind. No *wonder* Red had begged, if Robin had made him feel anything like this.

The cat's back just as suddenly as he was gone, but that's okay for the boy, that's good, because he *understands* now. This moment is no place for an unprepared boy. But the cat's prepared and willing, and there's a *shift* on the mental plane, rifts coming closer and they're *one* again, and it's better then good, it's great, and Robin purrs triumphantly at the reunion of sundered mental fragments.

Slade looks up when he hears the sound and his breath catches. The half-mad, desperate edge that the cat had worn is gone, but the pupils are still slits and Robin's eyes are still so *hungry*. Wanting. Finally, finally; Slade scissors his fingers fiercely and slicks lubricant over his own erection. He can't wait any longer.

Robin curls himself into Slade, arms coming to wrap around the man's neck as he kisses Slade once more. Everything’s perfect perfect perfect. He's whole once more and he wants to *share* his whole being with his mate--his perfect, sexy mate--and he can't seem to think of *how* he can do that other than to wrap his legs around Slade's waist when his mate takes his fingers out and hesitates to enter, *pulling* himself up onto his mate and taking him in.

And of *course* Robin still has that dominating streak, Slade thinks, as the maneuver rips a groan from him. He's been hard for--depressingly long, really, and this won't last a great deal of time; they both want it too much. Slade shifts back onto his haunches, eye flashing when the movement shocks a cry from Robin, and snaps his hips up *hard*.

Robin's hands curl, claws scratching lightly at Slade's skin. Everything he has read pales in comparison to the sensations he’s feeling. Then Slade shifts position, the unexpected movement getting a cry out of him and then Slade pushes up *hard* and *fast* into him and he can't help it, Robin snaps his head back and *screams* so loud it’s a damn good thing the apartment is soundproofed, or the neighbors would have been calling the cops.

Slade would be purring in satisfaction at getting that noise, except that the sole reason *he* isn't screaming involves his teeth being buried in Robin's shoulder. Even then he knows that Robin probably heard the muffled sound. But it doesn't matter, not with Robin twisting back to meet every thrust, pushing for more and clawing deeply at Slade's sides.

They're both just rutting now, lustpleasurepainneed boiling the blood from their veins. Too much too fast, can't stop, Robin's biting now too and they both quiet yells in each other's bleeding skin when they come.

When Slade can think again, Robin is panting brokenly until Slade leans up to whisper in his ear. "Robin--Dick. I go by Deathstroke the Terminator. My *name* is Slade Wilson." Robin purrs, eyes heavy with sated emotions and need. "Mmmm... Got a better name for you," he teases with a smile, moving to lick at Slade's jaw line, while brushing against the man's abs with his tail.

Slade raises an eyebrow, idly petting Robin's skin. "Do I even want to know?" Mentally, he's calculating whether they should disinfect their various wounds sooner or later: the bite marks could be problematic.

Robin watches as he traces the scabbing blood of the mark he's made on Slade's chest. "My mate." Looks up with playfulness sparking in his eyes. "The washroom has a large enough bathtub. Want to bet how long I can hold my breath?"

*---* Two Days Later *---*

Red glares, crouched on the windowsill of the second floor jewelry store. The events of two days ago are still fresh in his mind. Still fresh in a lot of people’s minds, as anyone who'd seen the newscasts speculated on the identity of the unknown being that had made a demand of Jump City's greatest and most mysterious criminal.

Well, anyone who wasn't Red X. Or the 'greatest and most mysterious criminal' in question. Someone had said that they'd seen the unknown speaking with someone in the art museum, someone who *could* fit Slade's general description. Red just *bets* that it had been Slade.

It shouldn't feel so dirty to have a recording of the newscast. Or of the stolen security tapes from the museum. But it does. And the thought that he hadn't been *good* enough for the kid is pissing him off.

Okay, he hadn't actually come right out and *said* it, but Red X is no fool, and he can read between the lines. Robin had gone to find Slade; ergo, Robin had wanted something Red couldn't give.

He really shouldn't feel so disappointed--or so angry--about that.

So here he is, glaring down at a shop display. Not bothering to even hide himself. Waiting, but not actually *doing* anything that would cause problems enough for him to go to jail. After all, without the action, just the thought isn't enough to convict him. And eventually *someone's* going to contact the Titans with the tip that Red's checking out the store.

Going to contact Robin, and Red can't decide whether he wants that to happen or not. Technically, he could be brought in by the Titans; the statute of limitations for his other crimes hasn't passed yet. He thinks--he thinks Robin wouldn't try. Not now.

He does, however, have to set some things straight with Robin. For one, that he is *not* a mouse. And two, that playing with Red X means that you better be ready to take anything you dish out.

It's Robin's *turn*, dammit, and Red won't take no for an answer any more than Robin had.

Red narrows his eyes behind the skull-shaped mask. He can see Robin's outline in the reflection of the glass. "Time to *play*, Kid," he says, turning around quick as lightning to pounce on the Titans' leader.

Robin goes down surprisingly easily, and Red feels his features twist into a grimace. "What's the matter, I'm not worth the effort it would take to fight?" Far too bitter, but--he can live with it. Especially since it makes Robin flinch and breathe like he's been sucker-punched.

"No! Nothing like that..." It's always so weird how *expressive* Robin's face can be, even with a mask on. Red's always wondered if the full face mask of the Red X suit had been made to protect against *that* little flaw of its maker as well as to more fully conceal his identity.

"Then *what*?" he snarls, putting an armored knee directly over Robin's crotch. The kid has guts, not moving even then. Continuing to look directly into Red's lenses and—apologize?

Robin took a long, steadying breath in. "I owe you a game. With--with whatever rules you want." Red watches, waiting for whatever catch the vigilante will decree. Watches as Robin cocks his head to the side in a questioning, hesitant manner. "You need to dictate the rules."

Red's breath slows. Then speeds up again with a rising flush of anger. "I'm not *you*, Kid. I don't play games like that unless I know my playmate wants it."

Red can see the anger rising in the kid's face as well. "That wasn't *me*!" Considering the boy's actions and behavior between now and then, Red could almost, *almost* believe that. If he'd been *blind*.

"Of course it wasn't. You have an evil twin. Who not only looks like you, but fights, moves, and sounds like you." Does things I'd wanted you to do, but not like that. Thinks I'm a fucking *mouse* to play with and throw away. "Try something else, Kid."

Red gets to see a small flash of... is that *fear*? "It was me, but at the same time it *wasn't* me. Not--not a controlled me."

"Meaning what, precisely?" Red's not sure he actually wants an answer to this question. But--the hell with it. If Robin really thinks so poorly of him, Red can deal with that.

And then promptly prove the kid wrong.

"As you may have guessed, I don't usually run around looking like a cat," the kid says wryly, obviously trying to delay whatever explanation he's going to give. Red just digs his knee in a little, causing the younger boy to blanch a bit before spilling it out. "I was under a spell that divided my mind. Made me act on instincts, wants, and desires I'd been harboring but had been *blocking* up to that point. With some mixed instincts of a cat thrown in as well."

'Made me act on instincts, wants, and desires I'd been harboring but had been *blocking* up to that point.' Red's brain stutters, and stalls, and the first thing out of his mouth is, "You'd been *blocking* that much lust? How many sets of sheets have you ruined, anyway?"

Robin blushes *hard* at that, and doesn't say anything. Whether too embarrassed to say the truth, or caught off guard enough not to have a witty comment to snap back, it doesn't really matter. Doesn't matter at *all* because the kid looks very pretty indeed with that type of color on his cheeks. However, there are still a few more questions Red has, before he can decide what to do.

"And why *me*, anyway? Why--" a mouse, he doesn't say, and no, he's really not getting over that anytime soon. "Why not that pretty redhead you live with?" Easier. And it's not like Red X has ever been honest with Robin, except when he was too desperate not to be.

Robin blinks at that. "Starfire? She's just a friend." He pauses again, and Red has to make a small feint of moving to grind his knee against the kid's crotch again before Robin continues. "You're an equal. You match me in everything, from fighting to thinking to humor. You even have some type of honor going for you, even if it is different from my own."

Equal...? Well, *yeah*, idiot. Thinks it, still doesn't say it, because--"Like hell that's how you think of me." Robin opens his mouth to protest; Red leans in close and hisses. Like a cat. "You called me a *mouse*, Kid. When you were too messed up with whatever spell it was to bother with anything but honesty." Feels his fists clenching tighter in the tunic and presses a little harder with his knee.

Robin gasps and jerks in his hold. Kid probably has his eyes shut behind that stupid mask of his as well, Red thinks. "I *told* you! There were cat instincts there as well! You *run*, X! As a thief, you run away from confrontations, and to a cat, that's what a mouse *does*!"

"I don't give a damn what instincts were in there with your fucked-up hero mind, *is that what you think of me*?" He almost shouts it, screaming directly into the kid's face. I respected you, I admired you and I wanted you; I'm not fucking prey!

The younger boy still *flinches*. "No! I think you’re a fucking graceful selfish bastard! With an attitude large enough to fill a fucking *ocean*, and skills on par with Catwoman’s!"

Which is just--wow. Catwoman is news even in Jump City; a woman, a thief, that goes toe-to-toe with Batman--and doesn't lose--never gets ignored. Skills on par with hers? That's quite a compliment. Red lets his fist unclench, moves a finger up to stroke Robin's flushed cheekbone and watches him shiver under the touch. "Fine then. These are the rules."

On the one hand, he could do a repeat of last night. Make Robin experience what *he'd* felt, getting chased down and called demeaning names... But Red wants a bit more revenge than that. Besides, he's an original kind of guy, minus the whole taking-on-someone-else's-discarded-identity thing. "We're going to take off our capes, and hang them up on opposite sides of the roof. Then we're going to play a little round of capture the flag. Loser has to obey *every* command issued by the winner, until sun-up or one of us collapses. Got it?"

Robin nods, a little shakily, and Red lets him up. Moves back.

"X? Are we--is this hand-to-hand, or including tech? And are we permitted to leave the roof?"

Which are good questions. "Hand-to-hand, no toys allowed. Stay on the roof." The kid nods again, more firmly, and heads to the north corner. Red whirls and goes straight to the corresponding south corner. Takes off his cape and lays it down, right where he has to contort a little to make it lie flat.

Red's going to win this game. Even if he has to fight dirty to do so.

Because it's about *time* Robin took orders from him, and okay, he wants a little revenge. He's human. Snorts out a laugh and turns to find Robin facing him. Without wearing the belt. Hmm. Good strategy, actually; they can't use the tech anyway, might as well remove something unnecessarily bulky. Red does the same.

Red watches Robin wearily as he holds out the belt to his side, making it into a sort of starting flag. Red's advantages have always been stronger in the stealth, speed, and guile category, but it's time to show the kid he's *not* the mouse that his screwed-up mind had pegged him as two days ago. Robin's big on strategizing and planning, so the only way Red's going to win is with spontaneity. Lucky for him, he's good at that.

Very good at that. As soon as he drops the belt, Red jumps forward and takes the battle to Robin. He's already decided to get in a fight and then distract the kid with a few pointed questions about the other night. Whether Slade had, in fact, let Robin top is one of them.

What happens after that--well. Spontaneity.

Robin's startled enough to give Red's first two punches weak blocks that only lessen the impact on him. But Robin's good at adapting, and those are the only semi-free hits Red gets, before the--heh--rumble is on in full force. Punches thrown and taken, kicks and sweeps blocked and jumped. The thrill of fighting an equal opponent is almost enough to make him forget his goal, but he won't. Red's still out to win, and only the worst of thieves don't know how to keep focus during a job.

And he's definitely not one of the worst. He'd been slowly edging them towards Robin's cape when the kid dodges a punch, catches Red's arm and--pay attention, because this bit is important--*uses it to flip himself over Red*. Towards the south corner. Damn. He whirls and tackles him, bending to whisper a distraction.

"If all that lust was blocked up, I wonder... Is it really all gone, spent in a single day? Or is some still there, building up again until it's a constant pressure you carry inside?" It shouldn't feel so nice for him to cop a feel of the kid's ass while he's at it, but it certainly causes a reaction.

*Writhe* under him, quick inhale before the kid kicks him off and away. Towards Robin's cape. Oooh. Red jumps and reaches out, hoping he can catch hold of it before Robin regains his composure. No such luck.

Robin grabs his ankle, pulling Red back and he lands flat out on his stomach, the breath knocked out of him by the impact. Robin growls low, aiming a kick for a pressure point at Red's side to paralyze the older boy for a little while, but Red's smart enough to roll away before it lands, air or no air. "So what if it is? So what if I do still have it bottled up inside of me? I'm *not* going to lose control over it again!"

Red laughs. “Until someone casts a spell again. Until for whatever reason you can't lie anymore." Robin still wants him. Red can *use* that.

Flips up onto his feet and heads into Robin's personal space, dodging to the side at the last moment, grabbing Robin's outthrust arm by the wrist. *Twists* the kid's arm back and up as he moved against the younger boy's back, his other hand snatching the wrist of Robin's non-trapped hand while wrapping the arm around Robin's waist. Moves his head down to breathe through the mask onto Robin's unprotected neck. "You left me to play with Slade, that day. What--" did he have that I didn't? "No, why did you do that?"

"Because," Robin grits out, and he probably could get out of this hold. If he really wanted to, and didn't mind breaking his own arm. He doesn't want to tell this *thief* about the fact that Batman's protégé, the Boy Wonder and leader of the Teen Titans, wanted Sla--*Deathstroke the Terminator*. Focused, lethal assassin. Who has a JLA file the size of the List Of Things Beast Boy Is Not Allowed To Do. How did his life get this complicated?

Red's eyes narrow behind the mask. The kid's *balking* again. He sweeps out a kick to buckle Robin's stance, making the kid’s weight fall back against Red's chest to support the boy from falling to the roof. This move also jostles the now-trapped arm, causing him to hiss as Red pulls Robin even closer against him. "That's not *good* enough, Kid."

"Make up your *mind* what game you want to play, Capture the Flag or Twenty Questions." Robin's voice is ever-so-slightly strained; Red really is good when he wants to be. His back is arched--which will get painful eventually--his arm is pinned, and if he tries to kick backwards he'll fall. He might try it anyway, but it's not like he minds stalling. Sunrise is about seven hours away, he estimates, and they can play this all night. Head butting wouldn't work; full-face mask. What to do?

"Aw, can't multi-task anymore, Kid? You seemed to be doing it just fine that day."

"Explain your meaning, X." Okay, he is getting *out* of this hold, except--Red's breath is warm on Robin's exposed nape, his hand is stroking Robin's abdomen. He really shouldn't be able to feel that touch through the armor, but he does. What happens next is--inexcusable. He shivers. And moans, just a little.

Red smiles at the reaction he's gotten out of the boy. "You had no problems with mixing games. In fact, if I remember correctly, you *chastised* me for trying to keep you playing one and one alone. So don't try changing the subject. Why did you do that?"

"Be*cause.*" Robin kicks backwards awkwardly, leaning his weight on Red, and yes--he does fall. But Red falls too, and since Robin was expecting it he's up just a little quicker. Runs towards the south corner, where the damn sneaky thief has made his cape *really* difficult to grab. Hears Red X coming up behind him and dodges left, enough so he's not pinned completely. But Red's grabbed his ankle, so Robin twists and kicks him in the face. Red doesn't let go, hissing a little in annoyance.

Red snarls and *yanks* with a twist. Part of him wants to just use the sticky X's to trap Robin against the roof, but he'd set the rules. No way is he going to renege on this. "That's not *good* enough!" He curses himself in the back of his mind. He should have just let the boy chase after his cape. With Red's superior speed, he could have grabbed Robin's cape and won the game minutes before Robin grabbed his. But he wants to *know* this answer.

"Why do you even *care*, X?" Robin's body is twisting to follow the tug on his ankle and keep it functioning, which is both good and bad. Good because it's not like he *wants* Red to break anything, and the gauntlets are armored. Bad because Red's pulling him *closer*, shoving off of the roof to crouch above him. "Why do you want to know?" His voice is almost calm, and he could kick Red away from him in seconds. But he wants to know this answer.

God, how to answer *that* without giving too much away? "You're the detective. Certainly you figured that out by now."

Robin glares. "You're no fool yourself. Haven't you figured out why I went?" They're fencing, back and forth, and Red is--jealous? Why would he be jealous? He should be angry, amused, taunting, curious. But not jealous.

It's a shock to find that one of his hands is stroking his thumb back and forth against Robin's side. He should stop it, but he doesn't want to. Unlike Boy Repression, he's absolutely willing to show his lust. "I've already been proved wrong about what I thought once tonight. I might be wrong about this."

Robin shudders again at Red's hand on his side; hadn't he gotten *enough* sex two days ago? This is *ridiculous*! And--maybe he owes Red X this. Not a mouse, an equal, and shouldn't he prove that's what he thinks? "I left because I wanted both of you. I--I'd touched you, even though I shouldn't have, and it was incredibly good but I wanted to touch him too..."

Red's eyes narrowed. He was torn. Part of him reveled that Robin *wanted* him, but another part was absolutely *jealous* that Robin wanted someone else, too. And then there was *still* the part of him that was pissed that Robin had *played* with him in that way. "You were missing with him a lot longer than it would have taken just to *touch* him." A pause, as he ran through the possible scenarios. "You went all the way with him, didn't you? He knows how you *taste* and what you *really* look like without that mask of yours, doesn't he?"

"You know what I look like too, damn *both* of you!" But at least Red X doesn't know his name. And Red's stopped caressing, instead just clutching there. Gripping, and Robin already knows that's going to leave a bruise.

"I only know what you look like as a *catboy*. And I didn't hear you *denying* the whole fucking thing, either!" Damn it, Robin's *his*, not *Slade's*. Robin had come to *him* first. Why hadn't they fucked like rabbits? Why did Robin have to go to Slade for that?

Which--okay, point. He hadn't *left* when the spell had worn off; Slade knows his regular face too. "Did you want me to lie to you, then?" His voice is soft and as sweet as Poison Ivy's kisses, but it's pure venom when he snarls. "And I still want to know why you care!"

"You want to know why?! Fine!" Claps a hand over the lenses on Robin's mask, making the boy flinch as he rips the skull mask off of his own face to clatter on the roof. Leans down and kisses Robin *hard*, diving his tongue past the giving lips of the boy below him.

Oh. *Oh*, and Robin hears himself moan into Red's mouth as his hands come up to scrabble at the thief's shoulders. He's raising himself up, but Red just snarls and *grinds* against him, shoving Robin back down.

Red kisses the boy until Robin's muscles relax like they're water in a still pool, and then ducks and rolls to the side. Scoops up his mask, replacing it as he sprints for the north end of the roof. Robin's still floundering from the kiss, which makes it all the more easy for Red to reach and grab the other boy's cape from where it's hanging from a nailhead.

Playing dirty *always* works for him.

Robin's up and on his feet, but it's too late; he can't stop Red from grabbing the cape. "Nice job, X. Looks like you won." His voice is rough with unspoken hurt and fury. He snaps his head up and *glares*. Was that--was that all Red X had kissed him for? To distract him long enough for the game to conclude? He doesn't *want* to believe it, but what other conclusion is there? "So now what?"

Red hefts the cape. It's lighter than his own, which is... odd. Just like Robin's voice. Did he *really* win? "Now it's time we did a couple of the things *I* want to do, instead of the other way around."

Robin raises an eyebrow, trying to keep his composure. "You're going to have to be specific, you know. And I'm *not* breaking any laws, game or no." He crosses his arms defiantly.

Red twitches. "Idiot. Don't you think I know that?" Red looks from the cape to Robin and back. "Actually, I didn't have anything planned past winning." There was, however, something he *did* want a lot... "Take off your mask," Red said, looking back at Robin.

Robin jerked. "I--that's not just my secret. To give you." He's dead serious; only the fact the Slade had given his name in return held back a frenzy of guilt and self-recrimination. He really can't expose his identity again. "Slade already knew my name. I don't--I don't know how." Because I messed up. That's how he knew.

Red shifted on his feet, anger coursing through him. It wasn't *fair* that the old man had so much of an advantage over him when it came to Robin. Knew parts of Robin that Red himself didn't know, even though he'd *stolen* part of the kid's identity, a link to his past. Why couldn't the guy get a partner from his own age group?! "You agreed to the terms, Kid. I'm not asking for a fucking name. Just a face." So that I have *something* to remember the real you as. Instead of that fucking *cat*.

Robin hesitates. He had promised--"X. You...you can't ever use this information to hurt people." His hands move to the corners of the mask, but he doesn't remove it. He's just staring dead at Red X, trying to get across how very not-joking he is. "Please."

Red X snorts, voice full of scorn. "There are billions of people out there, Boy Wonder. I highly doubt I'll ever run into you while you're in civvies, and it's not like I've got access to the type of face recognition databases you law enforcers use." Hell, he barely has enough contacts and access to keep his weapons stocked and to fence his goods.

Robin nods. Takes off the mask and looks Red dead in the face. He--looks a lot like he had as a catboy, actually. The eyes are the same color. Facial structure is a little different, and his mouth--his mouth is still swollen. And flushed. And he just *licked* it.

Red swallows a bit, because damn. Robin's still hot, even without the foreign effect that the cat attributes had given him. Studies that face to memory, and bites his lip. He *knows* what he wants to do now, and it's going to cause complications. *He* might not have the access to that sort of equipment, but Robin does. "Got anything you can use as a blindfold?"

Robin blinks. "I--yes. In my belt." Red X is still closer to where Robin had stashed his tools, and he's kind of uncomfortable going near the presumably-older boy unmasked and sane; Batman is *glaring* in his mind and he'll need quite a distraction to forget that he’s just revealed his face. To a villain.

"Mmm... Then get it out and use it. 'Cause I *really* want to kiss you again, Kid. Frankly, I don't think you need the temptation to look up *my* name on those databases of your's." It's... it's so *frustrating* for him. He *wants* to show Robin his face, to have shown the boy the same intimacy that Slade had shown him, but everything in his being rebels against the idea of *that* type of a stupid move. He's Red X, and Red X works best as a nameless, faceless thief.

Robin nods sharply, even as his mind reels. He'd--suspected something of the sort, but... did that mean that Red hadn't kissed him only for the game? Or is this merely a power play? While he's thinking, he's also walking. Red X steps aside to let him reach his belt, one arm sliding up to rub slowly down his spine. Robin gasps, and when he pulls out the blindfold his hand is shaking.

And perhaps... perhaps there *is* a way to make it as intimate as what Slade's done. Red moves, as fast and silently as the suit allows, ditching the cape so that he's *right* behind Robin, arms snaking around the younger boy to take the blindfold out of Robin's hand. Leans down to Robin's unprotected neck for the second time that day to whisper against the skin. "On second thought, let me."

Robin’s voice refuses to work properly; he hadn't been lying, had wanted--still does want--Slade *and* Red X. And he is a teenager, repressed or not. Red is so *warm* behind him, and his voice is soft and low. The only sound Robin can produce is a soft, breathy exhalation; he's very different without his desires being given free reign, some part of him notes. He decides that he'll find out why. Later.

Red brings the blindfold up, slowly wrapping the cloth over Robin's eyes, fitting it snugly behind the shell of the boy's ears where Red imagines pencils have rested a time or two, and tying it deftly off, fingers nimble enough even in the gauntlets to make sure none of the black strands of hair are caught. "Too tight?"

"N--no." This... what Red is doing is surprisingly intimate, and the thief is being very careful not to hurt him. The edge of the mask is cool against his face, and he is absolutely certain that Red X can hear the breath catching in Robin's throat.

Red hums lightly, leaning back to bring a hand up to undo the mask for a second time that night. "Good." Lets the skull-face drop to the roof with a clatter, moving both hands to spin Robin around slowly. Leans in, kissing lightly against the other boy's lips. Red can imagine what it's like, to be newly blind to one's environment. He doesn't want Robin to freak out and hit him, and besides, it's more seductive if he takes things slowly.

Robin's discovered that he *hates* being blind in a serious situation. Okay, so it hasn't been long. But--he *sees things*. He can't handle not being able to see. Fortunately, Batman had trained him to work without sight, and his other senses are already working to compensate. He'd kiss back, but--he doesn't know what Red X wants him to do, and he had agreed to follow orders. Sunrise in six and a half hours.

Robin's being *much* more submissive then what he was like two days ago. It's mildly concerning to Red. But not enough to overpower the feeling of *want* he has for the other boy. "I've always wondered, Boy Detective... Did you ever speculate on the reasons I stole your old identity instead of making my own?" Moves his hands down Robin's arms, stroking the skin he meets before tugging the gauntlets off the hero's hands.

"I had assumed that it was because you saw no point in creating an identity when a powerful one was being ignored." Robin's voice is steady, but his heart is beating faster. One of the problems with wearing the uniform all the time is that very soon, all skin becomes an erogenous zone simply because it is so rarely touched. "It would have been a waste of time and energy to create something as complex since you had the abilities necessary to steal the suit."

"Mmm, good points. But only part of the truth." Red might not have been able to feel Robin's pulse, but he could tell from the increased rise and fall of the chest against him that he was definitely having an effect. Whether that effect was fear or lust, was a much harder question to find the answer to. "Pulling off a stunt like that... causes quite a stir with the higher-ups, if you know what I mean. The job offers I got after that were far more generous than I've ever gotten." Pauses long enough to lick against Robin's cheekbone. "But even then, there was a *much* deeper psychological reason for it."

Robin's breathing harder. And faster. Red's tongue is wet and soft on his face, and he found out the other day that he *likes* it when people lick him. "Let me guess--Robin envy." The comment is panted out, and he can't stop his hands twining into Red's gauntlets to *hold* him there.

Red huffs at that, and squeezes lightly at the boy's hands in a silent ‘I'm here’. "Hell no, kid. I'm too selfish to be a hero, remember?"

"Didn't stop you with Chang." Robin tilts his head, turning into Red's mouth on his jaw. "Why did you help me? You could have retrieved the xynothium easily and let me fall."

Damn it. Here he is, one short impulse away from stripping Robin naked and fucking him six ways from Sunday, and the naive little shit *still* doesn't know?! Red jerks his hands out from Robin's, left moving to shove against the small of Robin's back. His right comes up to delve into that black hair, gripping and pulling the boy's head back so that Red can kiss Robin hard and thoroughly once more.

And this time Robin kisses *back*. Slade must have taught the kid a lot, Red thinks dizzily, before he loses himself in hot and wet and *Robin*. Red manages to pull back before either of them passes out from lack of air and nearly moans aloud just from the look of him.

Screw going slow. When a person looks *that* hot and needy, it's damn *time* to get them the fuck out of their clothes. Red's hands move fast and swift as they strip Robin of his shirt, and-- Damn. The pants and boots are going to be tricky for him to take off with Robin standing up, and the roof's way too dirty and roughly textured to lie down on. "Wait here, and if you can balance well enough, get out of those pants. I need to get our capes."

Robin slips into a kneeling position to take off the boots; he doesn't trust himself blind well enough to stand and remove them. But his hands hesitate taking off the tights--a rooftop? Has Red lost his mind? They could be *attacked*, they could be *watched*...

Red's got the capes in record time, and returns only to find Robin still in his pants. "Need me to get that for you, then?" He lays the capes out, making an impromptu blanket.

"Are you sure this is the best place, X? It's not--" safe, he wants to say. His sentence is cut off by Red's mouth as those clever thief's hands yank the tights down and cup him through the jock. Robin is still worried, but he can't quite remember why. Given the opportunity to touch, Red knows what he's doing.

Red maneuvers Robin until the boy is lying back on the capes. Having tasted the forbidden fruit, he wants it all the more. But first *he's* going to have to get out of his own clothes. He pauses in kissing Robin long enough to give a curt command. "Take my shirt off, Kid."

Robin's hands come up automatically, fingers seeking out and finding the hidden catches that make the suit easy to remove. Once he takes it off, though, Robin's hands don't want to leave... sliding over the skin of his throat and tangling in Red’s thick hair, tracing muscle delineation.

The sensation of Robin's touch flits his mind back to the first time, knowing the promising pleasure it could bring him. Red chokes on a moan, and brings his hands to touch and explore Robin's skin and--

What the fucking shit?! He's fingering a rough patch of skin on the boy's chest, right above Robin's heart. "What the hell is this?!"

Ah. He found the mark. "It's a cut, X." It is a great deal more than that, and Robin doesn't want to talk about it. What had seemed so right when he saw no reason to deny what he wanted seems, now, wrong again.

"Don't fuck with me! That's not a cut, it's a fucking *brand*!" Of ownership. Marking Robin as someone else's. And if the 'S' in the center of the circle is to be believed, Robin is Slade's and Slade's alone.

“I cut him first. And at least he asked my permission." Unlike me. Robin's voice is flat with self-directed fury. Slade is a shadow here with them, even if physically he's miles away.

Red snarls, fire in his eyes snapping in fury. He's not sure who it's aimed at: Mumbo Jumbo for creating this impossibly tangled situation, Robin for implying that he was acting like that damned cat persona of his, or Slade for taking what should have been *his* first. It was only as the initial rush of anger ebbed that his mind finally caught up to the implications of the first part of what Robin had said. Robin had branded Slade first. Meaning Robin had chosen Slade, and Slade had reciprocated, and... Really, Red doesn't want to think about it.

He bends his head down and *bites* Robin's throat, smirking at the noise coming from the kid. Reassuring himself--Robin had come to Red first. He'd said Red was an equal. He'd admitted wanting Red. He was here, now, whimpering. He wasn't with goddamn Slade.

But first... First he needs to prove he's *not* like the kid's cat persona. He licks at the small mark he's left behind, and whispers in his best sexy voice. "Tell me honestly how you feel about this. Whether or not you want me to fuck you." Makes a mental note to avoid touching the kid's chest in that area for the rest of the night, because fuck, he doesn't need to be *reminded* about what got stolen from him, even if he didn't have it to begin with.

Robin winces. He... doesn't need to be reminded of what he'd done under Mumbo's influence. Raping Red X, branding Slade without explicit permission--"I want you." And you won the game.

Red's eyes narrow. Robin's a tricky little bastard, even at the best of times. "You didn't answer the first part, kid." Moves a hand down to touch Robin through the jock again.

"Ah!" Robin's hips arch into the touch and he hisses out a gasp. "I can't *think* when you do that, X!" Because he doesn't honestly know how he feels. "If I said that I wanted you to stop, would you?" If so--you're better than I am.

"Yes, I would," because he'd be too fucking *hurt* to continue further. To be denied this... To be rejected like that after seeing that fucking *brand*--he really, really can't forget it's there, he's tried--would break him so bad he'd go home and *burn* his fucking suit.

Robin raises a hand to find Red's face and runs it gently down his cheek. "Then I'm not going to say it." Leans up and kisses him.

It's a messy kiss; even with the guide hand, Robin gets his nose on the first try, which is kinda ticklish, actually. But when Robin tilts his head lower and actually gets to Red's mouth, it's the lightest, sweetest kiss Red's ever been given. And Red's had a couple of dates before, so that's saying a lot.

Okay. That particular issue is settled. He's been fully hard since he'd kissed Robin the second time, even through finding the brand--and okay, yes, it was hot to think of Slade and Robin together but he wants in *too*--and he wants to go for the sex. Except...this isn't about lust. This is about affection, and Red doesn't get enough of that to throw it away.

So it's not, actually, all that surprising that Red tries to milk it out as much as he can. "Touch me," he whispers, hands lightly gripping Robin's sides below the ribs, thumbs circling lightly over the skin.

And Robin does, the callused hand on his face trailing down Red's jaw to his collarbone, where he flicks the hollow and makes Red laugh because it tickles. The laugh turns into a moan when Robin's fingers find a nipple, stroking over it softly until Red bites Robin's lip for the tease.

He probably should have been specific. "Not like that. Like *this*," and Red uses Robin's body as an unmarked map, tracing lines of bones and scars with his fingertips or dragging the palm of his hands across the vast expanses of soft muscled skin. Moves from Robin's face, sweeping stray strands of hair out of his way, jumping over the blindfold and down the boy's neck, across his shoulders, down and up his arms stopping briefly to play with the other's hands, down the sides of his rib cage and hips, shimmying backwards to go down and up the boy’s thighs and calves, massaging the insoles of the feet while he's at it.

Listens to the sounds he's making--what kind of life does a kid have to lead, to choose being a hero? To be so starved for touch that he shudders from a hand soft on his face, that the flick of Red's tongue on his stomach makes him jump and moan. "Robin... touch me again. Like this." Strokes Robin's cock just to see him flush and bite his lip.

Robin's touches are light and hesitant at first, but at the first moan that slips past Red's lips, they become firmer, exploring and lingering at points that make Red twist and shudder. As if the other boy's memorizing those spots, marking them on his mental map as *good* areas to hit again later, when he has the time.

Sunrise is in five hours and forty-five minutes. Robin can't see Red's face, but he doesn't need to. He can hear him, and feel him, and--and he needs to make Red lose his pants. Now.

Slim fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his pants; Red can't help but smile and kiss Robin again, the light, sweet kiss fast turning into hard and hot. It's obvious the time for mutual affection is over, and though a small part of Red misses it already, the larger part of him is very happy to continue. He kneels up to help those hands--the same size as his own, and fuck you very much, Slade--get him out of the black pants and the jock, twisting to get them off along with his boots.

Robin's hands are no longer hesitant; he's a teenage boy, just like Red, and he *knows* how to touch. But Red wants to touch him back again; he likes hearing the kid moan.

Robin still has his jock on; not for long, if Red has anything to say about it. Though teasing the kid's just fine on his list of things to do. Kneels over the Boy Wonder, looming a bit as a smirk pulls at his lips. "Need a hand with that, Kid?" Touches the boy through the cloth again, watching as Robin gasps and shudders, gripping harder at Red and curling into the touch.

He's a lot louder as a human, Red notes, utterly fascinated by the sight of Robin truly losing his control. It's a beautiful thing to watch, a beautiful thing to feel, and Red *gets* why Slade branded him. Robin is--there's no one like him. Having all that fire and passion willing to be tied to you, tying you to it... this is why Red stole the suit. It was as close as he'd ever get to stealing Robin.

The small reminder of Slade is enough to start his *own* fire. Red has something to prove here. His chance to show Robin what *he's* capable of. To give Robin a taste of what he can offer. Red shifts and pulls the jock straight off.

He strokes his thumb lightly over the head and has an idea. Taste, indeed. He bends down and licks, digging his tongue into the slit and rubbing his finger over the circumcision scar.

The way Robin jerks and bucks into that is quite enough for Red to know he's doing things right. Hands slip into and fist in his hair, and Red wasn't quite *that* ready to take in more when Robin pushes his head down further, gasping and moaning Red's name in such a needy voice. That doesn't help at *all* and Red's gagging slightly, which just makes Robin whimper and whine high in his throat.

Red doesn't want to choke, so he pulls off a little until he can breathe again. Circles his fist around the base of Robin's cock and goes back down, trusting his stamina and self-control to make sure he doesn't do too much. At first, at least, because he kind of likes the way Robin's heavy on his tongue, and he *really* likes that noise.

Red takes his palm off of Robin's thigh reluctantly, hand snaking out to Robin's discarded belt. It's a stretch to grab it without taking his mouth completely off of Robin, but he manages, fingertips shuffling the belt towards him enough until he can get a firm grip on it. Distracting Robin by licking up the boy's erection before engulfing and sucking it in, Red opens the compartment that his own lube would have been in before he switched the compartments around on his belt. It would be asking too much, he thinks, not to expect Robin to keep the original organization intact. Humans are creatures of habit, no matter how well trained.

Swirling his hand into the container, he slips it back and skims a slickened finger along the curve of Robin's ass, slowly getting closer to his target. Red removes his fist from Robin’s cock to go between his own legs, moaning at the sensation.

Robin instinctively kicks out at the touch; the feel is certainly something he's felt before, but still no less surprising then the first time. "God, Red..." he pants, and tugs at the hair in his grip a bit, spine twisting in hopes of getting more of the sensations.

Red laughs a little around the flesh in his mouth. He pets Robin's shaking thigh gently, slips another finger in, and crooks them. Then chokes and pulls back, coughing. Heh--he hadn't thought Robin would be *that* sensitive. "I'm just that good, huh Kid?"

Robin's eyes are closed behind the blindfold, and he can feel the way his muscles are relaxing in ways that meditation just *can't* do. "Mmmm... Red." He thinks he's allowed that he can't really think of a response beyond that.

Red crouches above him greedily, moaning when Robin arches up into the hand on his stomach. Maybe Red's getting a bit of a kink; Robin incoherent because of Red's touch, Robin *his*, makes the rub of a smooth and muscled thigh against him all he needs to come himself.

When Red's back from his mind getting temporarily scrambled, Robin's sitting up and petting his hair. "Five and a half hours to sunrise. And neither of us has collapsed yet," Robin states, a small smile on his lips.

Red smiles back and twists the fingers he never did remove. "Let's keep playing."

Robin gasps, body writhing at the feel. Deathly afraid of falling backwards while blindfolded, he leans forward and sideways until he’s right up against Red without knocking heads with the other boy. "Ah... Don't stop." Robin can already feel his body reacting in a positive way and God, really, really should have had enough sex by now...

"Not--planning on it, Robin," Red grits out. It's really too soon for this, but he is seventeen. Smooth hot skin right *there* and Robin's hands on him, thank God for teenage hormones.

Robin licks his lips, tilting his head to give little kisses to Red's neck, letting one hand slip from Red's hair to wander down and stroke along the spine, hard enough to feel the separate vertebrae. Everything down where Red's fingers are is still hyper-sensitive from two days ago, and it's not surprising at all that Robin's already half hard again. "Good," he mutters into the warm skin he's tonguing.

Red arches into the hand on his back, scissoring his fingers to hear Robin whine and feel him *bite*, ripping a laughing moan from Red's throat. Robin's still so fucking *tight*, even after goddamn Slade, and the blindfold is silky on Red's jaw when Robin licks the mark he’s made.

Robin's thighs are cramping, so he lifts and rocks for a few moments to slide his legs around Red X, settling back into Red's lap. Kisses along Red's jawline. "Want you. Wanted to take you then, but I wasn't sure you were up for it. I was too new to the whole idea and didn't know how much difference stamina could have..."

Red hisses when Robin slithers into his lap, wrist protesting at the awkward angle and the rest of him ignoring that completely, because a naked Robin puts all other problems into a really *good* perspective. "I'd've let you, Kid. Wanted to touch you so bad, wanted to know what you sounded like when you came."

Robin grins recklessly. "Then find out." Brings his hands to Red's nipples, teasing them into hardness.

Red arches and groans. "Already did, or have you forgotten so soon? I'm hurt, Kid, really hurt." He's half-hard again himself, and he really wants to fuck Robin. Although he is curious about how much control Robin might lose if he fucked Red...

Robin flicks once more at a nipple, before bending to lick it. "Mm, but I have it on good authority that I make different noises when I'm being played with and when I'm being fucked."

Oh *God*. And that just leads to so many images that Red isn't sure whether to be more jealous or more turned on. He shoves in harder, though, and Robin bites him in reaction. "Should have made that bet; I *knew* Slade wouldn't let you top..."

Robin laughs a bit breathlessly. "Oh, you're lucky you didn't. You'd have lost. The cat... Was very persuasive the first time." Without sight, Robin's world is basically narrowed to touch, taste, smell, and hearing. He might not be cat-like anymore, but one doesn't need to be in order to hear and feel the skip of Red's heart from that close.

The *first* time? Slade *had* let Robin top? "What else did he let you do?" Because those images are in his *head* now, and he knows his heart is skipping beats. Wonders half-manically what Robin would have claimed as his prize for winning the bet.

"A lot of things. But if you're looking for scores, I'd still say it was a ratio of 3:1 in his favor." Bumps up against Red's chest again, rising slightly to lick up the rest of the way, hands guiding him to see where he was going.

Red hisses at Robin's continuing explorations, and at his words, crooking again to find the gland that makes Robin scream and rolling his fingers over it when he does. He bends to whisper into Robin's ear. "He was with you for *hours*, touching and being touched. I haven't had that amount of time." Tilts his head to lick Robin's cheek, trying to regain composure. "Tell me what else he let you do to him. What else he did to you."

Robin shivers at the promise in those words, biting his lip to stop the scream that wants to come forth. He needs--more--to obey the commands. "I got to take him, a few times while he was on his back. Sucked him off some, too. And, and--" cuts himself off to give a mewled scream, clutching at Red's shoulders.

"Jesus, *Robin*...” Red bucks helplessly against the body in his lap. He has to touch more, go deeper; he wants Slade to be here too. Red wants Slade to see Robin wearing Slade's mark and screaming because of Red's hands on him. "I'm gonna fuck you now, okay?" Please say yes. Don't make me wait anymore.

Squeezes his hands reflexively at those words. "Yes, oh God, yes, *Red*," Robin shifts his hips so that he can feel those fingers brush up against him one last time, keening when they slip out. Licks and sucks at the skin beneath his mouth, chin rubbing against smooth skin. Not sure where *exactly* the region is, but knowing that it's *his* to mark in some way.

Robin’s going to leave fucking *bruises* just from his mouth, and Red doesn't bother to stop the moan that comes from that thought. Cups the kid's ass in his hands, spreading him wide, and lowers him onto Red's cock slowly. Except Robin has other ideas, *shoving* himself down so that they both scream.

It's been two days, and Robin had *thought* he was ready. Really though, just *no*. Slade had fucked the way he’d said he would--hard enough that every time Robin moved he'd feel Slade, hard enough that every time he breathed he'd remember that he was Slade's. Two days of rest had been enough to make it better, to make it to the point where it hadn't been much of an ache at all to move around. Yet having someone plunge into him again so soon may not have been the best idea, he realizes, as tears of pain leak out to dampen the blindfold binding his sight.

Red bites through his lip and feels the blood running down his chin, focusing on that to keep himself still. He runs his hands soothingly over Robin's thighs, moving them up to his chest and face in gentle motions. Robin's so *tight*, prior stretching notwithstanding, and he doesn't want to hurt the kid. He runs his fingers gently over the blindfold, stopping when he feels damp spots. "Shh, shh, tell me when. It's okay, Robin, it'll pass soon. Tell me when." He feels a slow anger burning in his chest, although... if Robin had genuinely expected no injury whatsoever from just shoving down like that, maybe Slade had been careful with him. Brand aside, Robin doesn't appear to be at all damaged.

And he's still so fucking tight.

He'll get over it, in a bit. And in the meantime, Robin still has another command to obey. "He--" gasp in air, tremble a bit and clamp down on his control. He *can* do this. He lost, and it's his turn to pay the forfeit. "He took me on my hands and knees, a couple times. Seemed to like it better when he could see my face, though, to know what it was I was feeling. After a couple hours we got out some of the equipment in the cupboards."

Red groans, hands jerking into fists on Robin’s face as he fights not to move. "Ah, *shit*, kid, is this your way of saying you're okay? Because--" pants for air, God *damn* Slade for having had that much time and the ability to take advantage of it--"I'm not going to believe it."

"You'd be right not to believe that." Robin’s panting lightly. The pain is still a bit overwhelming, but at least he’s not crying any more. "You gave a command. I never answered. The rules were quite specific, if I remember correctly."

Red freezes. He'd forgotten about that bit. "Robin... ah, hell. New rule. If I give you an order, and you don't want to follow it, say so. I don't--" want to rape you, want to make you do something you honestly aren't comfortable with instead of just repressed about--"do things like that."

"I-I really appreciate that." He would have done such things anyhow, because there were just some things Robin could *never* do, like killing a person. It was good, however, that now he could refuse such things without becoming entangled in a question of which rules to break.

Red's clenched fists relax and start petting Robin’s face again, noting that the blindfold hasn't gotten any damper. Good--the thought of Robin crying is a faintly terrifying image, even if it's pretty. He shifts, just a little, to lay his head on Robin's shoulder and breathe through the need to move into the heat surrounding him.

It's probably selfish of him but the feel of Red in him, the weight of Red against his frame, and the feeling of Red's breath against his neck is something Robin wants to hold onto. So he does, for long moments after he's ready to continue, sliding his almost pinned arms out and circling the thief's chest with one while sliding his fingers up and into Red's hair with the other. Reluctantly, he finally whispers, "I'm good."

"Thank *God*," is the first thing out of Red's mouth. He doesn't think Robin was deliberately teasing him, but no way had it taken that long for him to adjust. If the kid had still been a virgin, maybe, but not after Slade. Not even days after. He licks away the sweat at the juncture of Robin's neck and his shoulder and *thrusts*.

The illusion of affection--or the genuine moment of it--is shattered. Robin's back in that feeling of *perfect* friction that he's come to associate with sex, and clings tighter to Red X. Rubs his cheek in the silky tufts of hair, breath hitching from Red's movements.

Red can feel… so much. Robin's arm around his chest is a band restricting his lungs, and his fingers in Red's hair are firm. He can feel Robin's breath catching in his throat, and the sensation of Robin clenching around him is--"Christ, Kid, I should’ve kissed you the first time we fought." Why had he waited so long for this?

“That-- That would have been a lot more interesting then seeing you hit on Starfire." Interesting, though at the time they first met, Robin probably would have hit Red over the head for stealing his first kiss. And... and he's thinking way too much, all things considered. Moves his hand from Red's hair to trace and map the other boy's face.

Red hums and nips Robin's fingers, slowing down his thrusts a little. "You wouldn't have let me, though. Would you? You needed that spell to do something about what you wanted." The edge had been taken off earlier, and he can afford to wait a while longer.

He twitches at the unexpected feel of Red's teeth grazing his fingertips. "True... I hadn't thought I'd be doing this kind of stuff for another year or so. Though I still would have preferred not to have had that spell on me at all..."

Red kind of wants to move harder, faster, see if he can make Robin scream again and stop *thinking* so damn much, but he's worried about hurting the kid again. Plus he also happens to be enjoying this... pillow talk, for lack of a better phrase, and sense of affection. Like they've got all the time in the world, never mind what time sunrise comes. But his legs are starting to cramp from kneeling so long.

There's a shift of balance, Red's arms under his, hands gripping his shoulders from behind. He's being guided back down onto the capes, and intellectually he *knows* that's what’s being done, but he can't help the fear that rises up, making him bite off an undignified squeak as he clutches harder at Red.

Red moans as the change in position triggers a change in Robin around him. He takes a minute to just look at the kid: still flushed, white teeth caught in his kiss-swollen mouth, the black blindfold a stark contrast to his pale skin. "God, you're pretty."

"I'm not a girl," is the first thing he blurts out to that. Defenses against gender slights: still intact, apparently. He blushes a bit from the compliment, because it's so *obvious* from the tone that that's what it was.

Red laughs. "Believe me, kid, I've noticed *that*." Rocks a little to emphasize his point. "Although--I take it back. Not pretty. Fucking *beautiful*."

Robin gasps a bit at the motion. "Nnnn-- Don't see it." The pun makes him laugh, and he moves to brace himself so that he can push *back*.

That's as good a signal as any. Hell, that's a *great* signal that Robin is indeed 'good'. Red hisses and snaps his hips forward, hands clenching on Robin's pelvis. "Trust me on it, then. You are." I can't believe Slade never told you that.

Robin turns his head to the side, cheek rubbing against the smooth fabric of the capes. There isn't, actually, any *point* to looking in the direction of Red's voice, and the knot from the blindfold digs in a bit too much for comfort's sake. Red's going to leave bruises to add to Robin's list of aches, but Robin doesn't care. "Beauty's in the eye of the beholder." Lets his hands move over Red's skin once more, trying to remember where they are in relation to the mental map he's made. Trying to remember where Red had reacted most to his touch.

Robin's still thinking too much. Time to fix that, even though the kid's near-photographic memory plus clever hands are doing wonderful things to his body. Red shoves *deep*--and then keeps going. He moves one hand to grab Robin's bobbing cock, firmly stroking the vein on its underside.

It's a good thing his hands were on the sides of Red's waist, because it would have been absolutely awkward to have his hands *clutch* at flat planes of skin and muscle while yelling from the pleasure. He rolls into the thrusts, causing friction in two points now instead of one. Tosses his head to the other side in hopes of relieving the building tension in his body, but that's just not *working*.

"*Yeah*, kid, like *that*." Robin--God, Robin losing *control* is the hottest thing ever in the history of hot, and they're both going to be bruised tomorrow. Good. He wants Robin to remember this. He knows he won't ever forget it.

"More, *please*--" more of everything, more of *anything* you want to do-- "God, *RED*." The tone itself of his voice is something he's never going to forget. It's something Robin's barely ever heard issue from himself.

"Oh, *Christ*, Robin--" *shove* into the kid, who sounds amazing and sexy and like everything Red had never known he wanted. Had he begged Slade like this?

He shudders, eyes shut tight in his black, mind blowing world of sensation. Tugs Red down, or himself up, he doesn't know, just that his cheek bumps against skin and he's tilting his head to kiss it.

Robin's hot and tight around him, and Robin's open mouth is kissing his collarbone wetly. He's not going to last much longer, not with that movement making Robin clench even *more* and Jesus God this kid was going to kill him.

“Close, so close..." He needs something, needs something *more* then what he's currently getting, and it's beyond him to realize *what* he needs, just that he *needs*. Wraps one arm completely around Red X's waist, the other moving down to mold to the curve of Red's ass. "Red. Red *please*--" He still doesn't know what it is he *needs* so he cuts off on a whimper into Red's skin.

Red pulls back and spreads Robin's legs wider as the kid pushes higher up, getting a different angle. Shoves in again, deeper harder faster than he could before and they're both gasping and moaning, as though the movement is ripping the sounds from them. "Kid, tell me... tell me what you want... need you to tell me..."

Robin clenches his inner muscles; it's so much *better* that way. Tries to think of what he needs, and recent memory takes hold. Gasps in a breath after the last thrust, and lets it spill out. "My nipples--" Wasn’t fast *enough* to get it all out, as he groans and moves into the next thrust.

"Sensitive, huh?" Red can work with that. Moves his hands to Robin's chest and flicks a nail over the nipple. Forms his hands into claws and *scratches*.

"Oh *God*." His hands curl enough that he can feel the hardness of Red's lower ribs, to add an extra push into Red's next thrust. Arches belatedly into the touch that's no longer there. He's definitely, *sinfully* sensitive there.

The kid's head had scraped back against their capes, throat arched incredibly far back. Arching into it, only Red had already moved away. He stops thrusting, buried far inside Robin, and puts the bone of his knuckles against Robin's nipples. Starts rubbing, hard, and it's got to hurt but Robin's writhing and his face shows *nothing* like pain.

He's been shown by Slade that he *can* come from *just* this. So it's unsurprising but joyfully *wonderful* that he does now, with Red over him, in him, playing with him. He screams, Red's name or a wordless cry he doesn't know, into the blackness that his world has become.

Robin *screams* and every muscle in his body tightens, squeezing Red harder. Robin is coming yelling Red's name, and he can't help falling after the kid, mind disappearing in white pleasure. He's saying... something. Doesn't know what. Doesn't care.

"*Mine*," he hears, and it's so thoroughly possessive, Robin can't help but shiver.

"Yes, yes. Here, now, I'm *yours*, Red."

His. Yes. But not forever, only for the moment, and Robin is Slade's first. "Mine", he whispers again, and is fiercely glad that there's no one around to read his mind. Because what he wants to say is Your's. I'm your's.

He's... he's lost track of the time. Not that it matters. Sun-rise is a ways off, and neither of them have collapsed yet. Still though, he *needs* to recover a bit, and so does Red. "So what's next?"

Red blinks at him. "Kid, there's no *way* you're ready again."

"Wow, I didn't peg you as having a one track mind, Red. There's *other* things we can do in the meantime."

Red raises an eyebrow. "And here I thought you didn't want to break any laws. It's not like there's much *else* to do in this place." He thinks for a minute before he smirks. "Tell me a story." Tell me what got you into this game.

Robin pets at the edges of where his hands had left bruises. There's an odd urge to cuddle and bask in the afterglow, but Red's still lying limp and relaxed on top of him, and that's good enough for Robin. "Any story, or something specific?"

Red thinks about it for a minute. "Tell me why you made this suit, and why you gave it up.”

Robin hesitates. It's... not a very flattering story. And Red's expressed his jealousy of Robin's obsession with Slade already tonight. But it's the history of what would seem to be the beginning of a legacy, and Red... Red has the right to know. So Robin tells him.

Red doesn't move while Robin's obeys him. The kid’s voice while he talks is soft, and steady, and only shows emotion when he says Slade's name. So much for Robin not breaking laws. "You really do belong to him. He didn't even need to cut you, did he?"

"... Maybe. I asked the owner of Wayne Tech for help in the double cross." At least, he'd left notes for Bruce with Alfred. Even then, Bruce hadn't said anything to him, and Robin had gone ahead with the plan anyhow.

Red's head jerks up. "Why would you ask Bruce Wayne for help in double-crossing Slade?"

“They *were* his chips. And Mr. Wayne has always been helpful in the past when Batman or the GCPD needed to create a lure or decoy. Gotham just doesn't have the funds to pay some of the ransom demands made by the Arkham regulars. Slade may or may not have known it at the time, but the chips I stole were blank."

Robin keeps his voice from shaking; he'd almost forgotten, for a moment, that he couldn't *trust* Red X. Fortunately, his explanation is good enough. He thinks. He hadn't told Slade who Batman was; the man had already known that Robin was Dick Grayson, it didn't take much to know that Batman was Bruce Wayne if you knew that. But--Slade hadn't done anything. Deathstroke, the Terminator, and he had stayed his hand.

Didn't that mean something, Robin asks himself, and isn't sure if he really wants an answer.

Red's... A bit disappointed. For a few moments, he'd thought he'd had another thing in common with Robin: a history of breaking the law, no mater how small that had been on Robin's end. He'll just have to settle for their common flaunting of societal rules then: after all, they're *both* in costume.

"Robin... tell me what caught you. What made Slade and... and me more than just criminals." There has to be something Robin saw in both of them; Red X is a thief. Slade is... a mercenary. An assassin. What someone like that is doing in Jump City messing with a bunch of teenagers Red doesn't know.

“When we fought together... side-by-side. I knew, then, that you were both something more. It takes a lot for a fighter's style to sync with another's style. Not even Batman and I ever synced like that." Robin raised a guiding hand from Red's ass so that he could kiss Red once more.

Soft mouth. He's still surprised by that fact--that Robin, whose body is muscled enough that he could be used to teach an anatomy course with, has a soft, sweet mouth even when he licks in and kisses harder. Red pulls away with an effort, but doesn't stop his hand coming up to trace Robin’s swollen, wet lips. But he doesn't buy that that was when it started. For him, maybe, but not for Slade. "When were you and Slade allies, anyway?" Because that news would reverberate through *everything*, even the Justice League would have heard about an incident like that.

Robin would have blinked, but he stopped himself. No point in doing something like that when Red wouldn't see it. "Oh, right. You were probably stone at the time. Raven's father, a demon named Trigon, put the world into suspended animation a little while back. Raven protected us, and Slade was working for Trigon, so the magic didn't suspend us. Short of it, Slade got double-crossed and teamed up with us to take down Trigon. He and I teamed up to go to Hell for different reasons while the others provided a distraction."

Oh. That's a good reason for him not to have heard abou--"SLADE got double-crossed?!? Demon father? I was *stone*?" He's raised his head from Robin's shoulder by now, and is utterly flabbergasted. "Slade. Double-crossed." Wow.

Robin had to chuckle at Red's tone. "He was expecting it, I think. Had a ring of Azar, a magic talisman for protection. In the end, it was a triple-cross, because he *definitely* got what he had wanted. I think, also, you would have preferred being stone. The world... wasn't a very friendly or pretty place, at the time."

"...He *would* be expecting that." Red hears the memories in Robin's voice and resumes petting him, lying back down onto Robin's shoulder. "I don't believe that Hell was when you started wanting him. But it's all right; I did say that you didn't have to answer if you really didn't want to."

"It made me realize what I felt for him, at least." This is... Really nice. "If you're not careful, I think I might fall asleep like this."

An odd trickle of warmth inside, that Robin trusted him enough to sleep with him there. It gentles and softens his voice. "It's not like I'd mind, Kid. But... what did you feel?" Did you love him? Do you still, and is that what the brands were about? Is that why you went to him? And what do you feel for *me*?

Robin smiles in remembrance. "Obsessive love. Which was an odd development. I've always been obsessively focused on things."

Red stiffens, and doesn't think until he had that Robin was, of course, going to notice it. So the kid did love Slade. It... wasn't healthy. But it was love.

“You're tense." He could feel it, under his hands. Even if he couldn't *see* it. "What's wrong?"

"I..." Jealousy, he doesn't say. I'm a thief, I steal things, and the one thing I want most I can't steal away from its owner. Red nuzzles into Robin's skin, clenching tighter. "Nothing." That I could change.

Robin screws up his face in his best pout, and pokes Red in the side. "Isn't nothing. It was something I said, wasn't it?"

“Kid. Let it go." I'm not a girl; I don't do talk about feelings. "What do you think he'd do, if he saw you here with me? If he heard how I'd made you scream?"

Robin answers immediately. "Either get jealous and kill us both, watch silently and critique afterwards, or he'd try to join in." Probably the second, he doesn't say. Thinks the third option is a hot idea, even if it is a bit outlandish. After all, Red X and Slade didn't *like* sharing their things. Which kinda sounded childish to Robin.

"If he did join in... what would you do?" Because he does want them both, and he thinks he could probably make them share. If he was willing to pay Slade's forfeit afterwards, and he really didn't know what Red X's price would be.

Red thinks about it. It's not a bad idea, since he'd get a chance to shag Robin again. But... He's definitely not sure how he feels about the Crime Lord of Jump. The man's intimidating in ways Red's never felt before. And he hates the man too much for taking what Red *should* have had. "I think I'd attack, grab you, and run."

Robin raises an eyebrow. "You have to know that wouldn't work. And I object to being grabbed like some damsel in distress, Red." He pokes the thief again to emphasize his point. "I can and have beaten you."

Red snorts. "Hah. Never *caught* me without being some freaky hybrid cat, though. Bet you couldn't do it again."

Robin's eyes snap open behind the blindfold. *Twist* up and Red's pinned underneath him. But Robin knows it's because he's permitting it, and shifts quickly so that the pin is real. "You lost your bet."

Red lets the leer enter his voice, since he knows Robin can't see it. "Mmm... So it would seem. And my forfeit would be?"

Robin smiles. Hmmm... should he, or should he not? He really does want them both. "I haven't decided yet." Rocks against Red. "But I'll tell you when I have."

Red purrs a bit at Robin's movements. Story time had definitely been long enough to recuperate. "You do that, Kid."

*---* Epilogue *---*

Sitting in the darkness of his new lair, Slade stares at the screens around him without truly seeing the images on them. He is thinking. Thinking back on the fallout of a few days ago.

He idly brushes his hand over the left area of his chest plate, where under the uniform is a healing cut in the shape of a stylized 'R'. It is his newest and most valued scar, and Slade feels his mouth twist into a smile.

The Titans had, after fourteen hours of trying to find Robin and failing, actually turned about to find Mumbo Jumbo instead. He had watched as Robin's temporary features had ceased to be, making a popping sound as they disappeared. It had been a startling thing to watch the boy open his eyes and still find that beautiful shade of blue circling round pupils.

Robin had flinched, once, before reaching up to touch the cut on his chest. And had smiled. "I'm not sorry I did this. It was wrong--but I'm not sorry."

Perhaps, out of the whole ordeal, that had been the sweetest admission to come from Robin. Because it had been from him while he was in his right mind. Though after they’d left the hideout, the boy had been adamant in not going another round. For now that pesky conscience of his would not allow it.

Which meant that he really should stop reminiscing. He refocuses his attention on the android which had snuck into the Jump City jail and resumes negotiations.

“It's simple, really," he speaks through the microphone, eyes watching the transmitted live recording of the old man standing behind the bars. "I give you the means for your escape before they send you to the high-security facility, and you give me the instructions for the spell you used recently on the Titans' leader."

The man gibbers slightly. Slade has--a reputation, and Mumbo Jumbo has never been important enough to garner his attention. "I--I don't think the *instructions* would be any good, Mr. Slade. You need the hat."

"For you, perhaps." Slade shifts in his seat, leaning forward as a smile curls on his face. He may not be able to smell it, but the fear the man exudes is a wonderful thing to see and hear. "The hat, as well as your incantations, are but paltry focuses. Tools that can be substituted. All I need, Mr. Kenny, are the instructions on the spell weaving."

The man gasps a little, and his face shows open hunger before he tries to hide it. Not well enough, though. "I don't know how to weave spells. The hat--the hat's where the magic comes from." Slade feels his smile morph to a furious snarl. The man is a *fool*. No magician, he had merely had the good fortune to find a tool that could work the magic for him.

Not everything is lost, though, and Slade quickly adapts his plans. He has always been familiar with life and its odd quirk for never making things as easy as one wishes it to be. "Then a demonstration of the spell is in order. You can, of course, repeat the spell?"

The man begins to stammer out something and Slade interrupts. "On the Titans again, naturally. And I know you require your tools". The android pulls the man's hat and wand from a pouch it carries and waves them temptingly.

Tom Kenny eyes them like a starving dog would eye his master's hand. Slade's disgust for the man rises as the last piece of information slides into place, information that had been missing from his investigation into Mr. Kenny's background. The old man's stable, law-abiding, perfect-seeming life had been ruined by his addiction to the magic suffusing his props.

Which would make him easy prey, even as it made him contemptible. "I offer you back your freedom, as well as your magic. All you need do is demonstrate--on the leader of the Titans--the spell which you used against him three days ago. So... do we have a deal?"

Slade tunes out Mr. Kenny's acceptance and blubbering of thanks. Of course the man would agree; no one with a sane mind and a will to live denies Slade anything he wants.

Except for Robin.

The android pulls out a knife and goes to work. The blade itself is laser-cut titanium, and the serrated edge is coated with diamond dust. It cuts through the iron bars like it would cut through butter. When Kenny is out, the android tosses him his tools and backs away. But it doesn't leave; Slade has no intentions whatsoever of permitting the man to work his spell without his own watchful eye upon the proceedings.

For even if the man can't see it himself, he *will* be spell weaving in his alternate form. And the robot Slade had sent had enough sensitive equipment to follow the weave. Slade plans to record it, and, perhaps, to *improve* it.

One of the spell's effects, apparently, had been to separate Robin's mind--ego, superego and id, he assumes, with id in control. He would rather that effect not happen; Robin is too unpredictable in that situation.

Although the sheer number of 'games' the boy had come up with... Slade shakes his head. It the spell could be altered, it should be. The human mind can only stand so many bruises and breaks before it stops repairing itself. A broken bird is not his goal; a more willing one is.

Kerry has grabbed his tools and yanked on the hat; it is Mumbo Jumbo who looks back at him now. The android leaps forward and knocks him down, bending so that Slade can hiss into his ear. "Do *not* renege on our bargain." The 'or else' is left implied.

Even in this form, the fear on the man's face is obvious and satisfying. Slade briefly toys with the idea of having his tool give Mumbo Jumbo a physical reminder of what he *can* do, but... No. The intimidation works just as well. It's time to go find his bird.

And open the door to its cage.

Narrowing his gray eye, Slade smiles in the darkness of the lair. He's going to *enjoy* the fruits of this little transaction. Shifting in his chair, he rubs the leather of the collar he's holding between his fingers. What light there is strikes and rebounds from the metal insignia: an 'R' and 'S' combined.

In the darkness, the smile becomes a sharp flash of white.

--Fin.