Fic:The Long Weekend (Adult, evil goatee AU, Tim, Kon, Cassie, Bart)
Title: The Long Weekend
Rating: NC-17.
Pairings: (Sort of) Tim/Kon, Bart/Kon, Bart/Kon/Cassie
Warnings: initially apparently extremely dubious consent, dark humor, medical kink, bondage, breathplay, electrostim, CBT.
Summary: It’s a nice place to visit, but he wouldn’t want to live there.
Notes: for pornday and au_bingo ( prompt: Evil Goateed Universe)
The position is uncomfortable. Kon’s knees and his back are starting to hurt, and the way his arms are twisted up behind him is pretty unpleasant. His jaw is getting tired, too, and over and above it all is the overwhelming feeling of *weakness* from the red lights, wearing him down.
The slick head of Robin’s cock slides over his tongue, nudging the back of Kon’s throat until he swallows, urged down by the gauntleted hand now tangled in his hair. It’s not really Robin. He knows that. But when he hears a curse, a moan, in *that* voice, the thrill that shoots through him makes him shudder.
*
When the smoke and weird green sparks had cleared, Kon had landed beside his teammates to survey the damage to the facility. He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, but it had obviously been big. Bart had been helping Cassie up out of a pile of rubble and Robin had been crouched low, examining something on the ground. When Robin had turned around, Kon had laughed. His face and costume were covered with soot, which would have been funny enough by itself, but what Kon had initially taken for a very dark smear of dirt now looked rather like a very thin goatee, as if Robin had decided that Kon’s perpetual stubble was just too awesome for him not to try it himself.
Kon ran his hand over his own chin, in case whatever had caused Robin’s new look had hit him, too. Robin stood up, staring at him, at his face and then at his chest, and then his face again. Kon looked down at himself, but his costume seemed to be in order. He glanced over at Bart and Cassie, but they were staring at him, too. Bart had a little bit of fuzz on his upper lip. Cassie, thankfully, didn’t, but her hair was short, red, and wavy. “Guys?” Kon said, uncertainly, and turned back to Robin.
The fist that met him was wearing a glowing green ring.
*
“I wanna keep him,” Bart says, a whine in his voice. “We’re supposed to share the spoils, Robin. If you take him back to Gotham, I won’t get to play with him anymore.”
He’s eating a sandwich that’s too big for his mouth, talking in between bites. It’s so utterly familiar as to be surreal, when paired with Kon’s position, chained to the floor a few yards from where Bart is sitting. Kon is taking the opportunity for some much needed rest, sprawled with his cheek on the floor. Robin is sprawled in the other chair, loose-limbed and utterly unlike the boy Kon knows, except for the smug little smirk. “I’ll let you visit.”
“Batman won’t,” Bart pouts. His sandwich is gone now. He wipes his face and drains his drink, getting to his feet. “It just feels really good to let go for once, you know? I’m not going to use him up so quick, even with the lamps. Look at him -” he gestures toward Kon, who groans around the gag in his mouth and presses his cheek to the floor. “He’s only passed out twice so far. I bet he’d last a whole week!”
“You’ve got two days,” Robin says, and stands. “And I want him conscious in half an hour. There are some more tests I need to run.”
“Aw,” Bart says, as he stands. He hadn’t bothered to put pants on before his snack break.
*
The table was cold under his bare back when he came to. Robin was leaning over him, and for a moment, Kon thought he'd been caught in the blast and had some kind of weird dream. Then his eyes uncrossed and he noticed the chinfluff. “Why'd you hit me?” Kon whined. “You broke something, man, everything's red.” He tried to roll over, to shield his eyes from the red glow from overhead, but something was attached to his arms and legs, holding him in place. He tugged as hard as he could, and when that didn't work, he opened up the part of himself that controlled his telekinesis. He managed to raise his body about an inch over the table before it gave out on him, dropping him with a thump.
“Hm,” Robin said, his mouth pressing into a thin line. He raised his hand to his mouth. It looked small in a thin latex glove, without the bulk of his gauntlet. “Subject retains limited flight ability despite precautions. Preliminary hypothesis: Subject is not Kryptonian.”
“Of course I am!” Kon protested. “Well, kind of.” He yanked against the bonds again. “Have you got *red lights* up there? What are you trying to do?”
“Apparently not an autopsy,” Robin said without a trace of humor in his voice. “Yet.”
A shiver of panic ripped through Kon, and he tried, instinctively, to bring his legs up as Robin bent over him again, this time with a syringe in his hand. “This isn't funny, Rob!”
The needle approached his forearm, then paused a millimeter from his skin. Robin frowned and pressed harder, and the needle bent. “Hm.”
“Stop saying that!” Kon shouted, thrashing. He jerked when a cool, gloved hand pressed against his stomach, just below his navel, and went still, very aware of his nudity and his vulnerable position. “Robin, seriously, what the hell is going on?”
Robin cocked his head like a bird, staring down at him for a long moment. He reached under the table and withdrew another syringe, setting it on the edge of the table. “I am attempting to determine what you are. If Kal-el is leaving by-blows across the midwest, I need to know about it. If he's building an army, that need is even more pressing.” He reached into his belt and withdrew the ring he'd used to knock Kon unconscious. The nausea and cramps struck immediately, and Kon tried to flinch away, but his arm was held fast. Robin placed the ring against his forearm, searing him, and then drove the point of the needle right through the center, into his vein. After a few seconds, he withdrew the syringe, now full of blood, and put the ring back into its shielded pouch.
“Are you done?” Bart said suddenly, appearing beside Kon's head. “Can I play with him now?”
“*I* caught him,” Robin said. He stared down at Kon appraising, looking him over from head to toe. Kon felt himself blushing uncharacteristically at the cold scrutiny, and to his embarrassment, he felt his cock rise in interest. He'd maybe had a few dreams that started this way. After a long moment, though, Robin shrugged. “It will take me about five minutes to start the analysis. You can have him until then. Try not to kill him.”
“Awesome,” Bart said, grinning. Between one blink and the next, he was naked.
Kon swallowed hard.
*
“Do it,” Cassie hisses, her hand tightening in his hair, forcing him down harder as she grinds up against his face. He sucks, stroking with his tongue, struggling against the burning in his lungs. She hasn’t let him up for air in kind of a while.
Bart is between his legs, driving him further against her with every thrust. He’s moving so fast that Kon can’t distinguish individual movements anymore - everything is just one long hum of friction, a stretch, a burn. Vibration. He moans.
Cassie echoes the sound and yanks hard on her lasso, pulling the golden cord tight around Kon’s throat. He tries to move with the pull, to relax the slip-knot, but that just makes the binding around his cock and balls pull tighter. He whimpers, and Cassie laughs, yanking the cord again.
Kon bites in retaliation, teeth scraping hard against tender skin, and her thighs clap shut around his ears, squeezing as she she bucks wildly in the chair, shuddering all over with a cry. The movement almost drives him off, but she’s got her hand pressed tight against the back of his skull, holding him there while she fucks up against his face, against his teeth, howling. The cord in her hand sparks, and Kon squeezes his eyes shut tight in anticipation a moment before the lightning strikes.
*
“He won’t wake up!” Bart complained, his voice high and whining. His foot nudged Kon’s side, but Kon kept his eyes closed.
“Did you kill him?” Robin asked. Kon did his best to keep his breathing even as he heard the familiar whisper of his footsteps approach. “I specifically told you not to kill him.”
“I didn’t!” Bart protested.
“Hm.” There was a quiet, shuffling sound, and then fingers were pressed to his throat. “Pulse is weak. He’s probably dehydrated. Go to the store and buy a case of sports drinks..”
“Aw,” Bart said. “Why can’t you go?”
“Because I’m not done with my tests. I’ll give you money for candy and porn.”
There was a pause, and then a breeze. “We’re almost out of lube, too.”
“Fine. Here.”
The breeze again. This time Bart didn’t return.
“Get up,” Robin ordered, his voice hard. Kon ignored him and tried to think unconscious thoughts. He wasn’t expecting the slap that knocked his head against the floor.
“Ow,” he muttered, opening his eyes. Robin was leaning entirely too close.
“Hm,” Robin said. “A creative ploy. Poorly executed, though.”
“Dude,” Kon said, his voice a hoarse croak. “I’m *tired*.”
“I don’t doubt it. Most of his playmates die of exhaustion in a few hours. I’ve locked him out of the compound, for now. You have a few hours to recuperate.”
“Oh thank god,” Kon breathed. He closed his eyes again.
“Get up,” Robin repeated.
When Kon didn’t respond at once, he kicked him hard in the ribs. Kon rolled over with a curse and pulled himself up to sit on his heels, as close to upright as the chains would allow.
Robin circled around him slowly until he was standing about a foot in front of Kon, his feet shoulder-width apart. He reached into his tights. “Show me how glad you are for the reprieve, and then I’ll let you take a nap.”
*
“Are you okay?” Bart asks - wide-eyed, wild-haired, clean-shaven Bart. He zips away and back again before Kon can answer. “Why are you naked? Everyone's naked! Is this the alternate universe where they never invented clothes?”
*His* Bart, he realizes with a kind of dull relief. “Hey,” he says weakly, his voice rough. “How'd you find me?”
“Robin built a thing,” Bart says. “I helped. Do you want me to vibrate you out of the cuffs?”
Kon closes his eyes at the mention of vibration. “Sure,” he says. A tooth-rattling moment later, he's free, and trying not to wobble too much as he gets to his feet. Bart helps to steady him, and then he's gone again, leaving Kon to catch himself against the wall, swaying on legs that feel like jelly.
Bart returns again a moment later. “I don't think I should grow a mustache. It looks really silly on me.”
“I don't think you should grow a mustache either,” Kon says. “Do you think you could find me some pants?” Really, he needs a shower - kind of desperately needs one, actually, but if *real* Robin is going to show up any minute, Kon figures he probably ought to cover himself up.
Real Robin does indeed arrive soon, with his evil counterpart in tow. He takes one look at Kon, wobbling unsteadily as he tries to pull his new pants up, and turns on his captive. “What did you do to him?” he growls.
“What didn't I do?” the other Robin says, smirking. “Don't worry. He enjoyed every second of it.”
Kon's Robin punches him in the face. It's kind of touching, really. Kon's pretty sure no one's ever tried to defend his honor before.
*
“So,” Kon says, once they’re back home and he’s had a thirty minute shower, eight zesti-ades, and some kind of special Bat-painkiller that had woken him up a bit instead of making him groggy. “Bart said you built a thing?”
“An interdimensional transporter.” Robin says quietly. He’s been very quiet ever since they all got back. “I borrowed the plans from Batman. The JLA has had some trouble, before. Not, ah,” he looks away. “quite like yours. But not pleasant, either.”
Robin hadn’t been happy when they’d left. Kon had insisted they just leave the evil, alternate universe counterparts tied up and unconscious in a pile. He’s not entirely sure what Robin was planning to do with them otherwise, but he doubts it would have been pleasant. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Robin breathes out a long breath, looking sad. “Kon. It’s okay. I’m here if you want to talk about it. If you don’t, I won’t force you. Just....let me know if you need anything, okay?”
Kon stretches out on the couch beside him, laying down with his head next to Robin’s thigh on the cushions. “You could order some pizzas. I’m kind of starved, man. I’m going to take a nap, until they get here.” He closes his eyes and squirms a little, trying to get comfortable. He’s healing fast now that he’s back in the sunlight, but there are some places the sun doesn’t shine.
“Sure, Kon.” Tim says, after a long pause. Kon doesn’t feel him moving, though, so he cracks his eyes open again. Robin’s just sitting there looking at him, a truly horrible expression twisting his unmasked face. He looks like he might *cry*.
“Hey,” Kon says, without sitting up. “I told you, I’m okay.” When Robin doesn’t lose the expression, Kon gives him a sleepy grin. “Actually, I might want to borrow that machine of yours, sometime? I haven’t had a weekend like that since I broke it off with Knockout.”
The twisted-up look drops off of Robin’s face like it’s been shot. Kon closes his eyes, satisfied, and basks in sated exhaustion and the sunlight from the open windows.
Two seconds later, a pillow hits him in the face.