Ugh. Joker/Dick Fic
Title: Shades of Red
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Joker/Dick (non-con), background Bruce/Dick
Summary: Dick’s at the mercy of the Joker
Warnings: Rape, violence. This is pretty dark.
A/N: This was slightly inspired by Jason Todd’s death. Except for the rape part, and the Batman not letting him die part, those were all me.
Disclaimer: Don't own these guys or have anything to do with DC.
Unbeta’d
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Robin had never been more terrified, or humiliated, in his young life. Bent over, hands tied too well behind his back, knees forcibly spread, the Boy Wonder was on the verge of tears. All he could do was bite back the whimpers as he knelt on the cold metal, his flush cheek cooled against the surface, and wait for his tormentor to return.
He'd given up on escape hours ago, when his arm was forcibly straightened out and a needle was pressed against his vein. His muscles and body had filled with a sickening weakness and lethargy. But the drug hadn't stopped his racing mind; on the contrary, it seemed to amplify the panic in the boy’s brain. He realized the plight and danger he was obviously in. He realized his desperate need for escape, but his weak limbs wouldn’t allow for the escape that would have, in sobriety, came easily to the acrobat.
His breathing hitched as he heard a metal door opening, swearing as he heard the clicking footsteps. The man pulled his grotesque lips over his teeth in a leer at the kneeling young man. “Boy Blunder, so sorry I had to keep you waiting,” He paused, “had a matter of business to attend to.”
He continued to pace. “But I'll be able to give you my undivided attention, now.” He ran a gloved finger over the boy’s bared spine, and Robin growled weakly through his gag. He cackled as he got to Robin’s lower back, running his hands appreciatively over his ass.
He teased the boy, pulling at the belt around his slim middle, unbuckling it, before snaking his hands lower and sliding fingers underneath the waist of his pants. Robin’s flush turned impossibly deeper with humiliation as he was exposed.
The Joker snapped a glove, pacing around the young man, and drinking him in. “You’re lovely,” he smirked, “I wouldn't be able to resist you either, especially when you're running around in these delectable little undies.” He bared his yellowed teeth, tugging on the green fabric pooled around the boy’s knees.
His tunic was next, and Robin felt deft fingers working the clasps of the buttons free. Hands smoothed over his chest, pausing to pinch hardened nipples, as Robin fought back a groan.
The Joker stooped to the boy’s neck, inhaling the mix of sweat and the lingering smell of body wash, and fisted a hand in the boy’s hair.
Robin did his best to zone out, using the relaxation and breathing techniques that Bruce had taught him when he’d first donned the yellow cape.
He tried to focus on something, anything, other than the man behind him. He looked at the cement walls, years of neglect evident in the water damage and stains running down. He scanned the room for something of interest, eyes settling on a blood stain.
He pointedly ignored the tongue penetrating his entrance.
Robin swallowed around his gag, but gritted his teeth as the Joker removed his glove and slipped a dry finger inside. He'd be damned if he gave him the satisfaction of hearing him.
“You’re not as tight as I expected, Pumpkin,” he leaned to breath in his ear, “But I suppose that'll happen when Ol’ Batty gets at you,” Robin growled. “Aww, is the big man a sore subject?
“What's wrong? Does he *hurt* you, Little Birdie? Does he touch you,” Mocking, he pushed deeper, “or make you touch him?” Dick clenched his teeth harder, testing his restraints again.
His captor didn't fail to notice, “You're not going anywhere soon,” Robin could hear his frustration rising. “So you might as well *enjoy* it.”
He probed deeper, reaching for a spot inside Dick. He cackled when he found it, stroking a thin fingertip against the bundle of nerves, and laughing as the boy tensed.
“You aren't enjoying this? Isn't this reminiscent of a few training sessions with the Bat?”
He kept stroking, soon added a second finger. Robin bit his gag harder, refusing to give the man the whimpers he was looking for.
“Why are you so quiet, Lamb Chop? I want to *hear* you.” He pulled out the probing fingers quickly, and Robin fought the urge to hiss at the pain.
As much as he hated it, hated himself for it, he couldn't silence the desperate, pained whine when the blunt tip of something metal forced its way in.
He felt the object nudging in, pushing past the tight ring of muscle, despite his body’s frantic attempts to stop it, to force it out. Dick squirmed as it continued, feeling the cold metal begin to warm up.
It kept pushing and pushing, and it was so *thick,* whatever it was, and, Dick thought dryly to himself, yes, Bruce was bigger, and thicker, but Bruce also used copious amounts of lube, and a generous amount of careful preparation.
But Dick had been given neither of these luxuries, so he squirmed and wriggled and prayed to no one in particular that the man would get bored soon and leave him be.
It was finally in, and Dick was genuinely relieved that he was given a chance to adjust before it was removed and plunged back.
The sounds were sickening, and Dick cringed at the horrible squelching. He wondered if it sounded like this when he and Bruce were together, and if he just wasn't repulsed by that soundtrack at the time.
The object kept on, in and out, until Dick was sure that he was about to vomit. His skin was flushed and covered with the sheen of a cold sweat, but his tormentor didn't seem to mind, as he started to lick the moisture from his back.
Dick’s breathing was harsh with a pattern that Bruce had taught him to ward off nausea. He really didn't like the idea of vomiting right then, questioning if he would choke on it around his gag, and supposing that choking on his own vomit would be just the twisted, fucked up sort of death that the Joker would love to witness.
His stomach lurched while the metal object continued its assault. Its pace had gotten faster. He started whimpering, desperate for the end, wishing that his tormenter would stop.
He heaved a sigh of relief when the object was removed, and he heard it clatter to the ground behind them.
But nothing was ever that painless for Dick, and he heard the lowering of a zipper, holding back a groan at what he knew was to come.
Thin fingers dug their way into the boy’s slender hips, nails leaving angry crescents, and he felt the head nudging at his entrance. A shudder ran through his thin frame.
A little more teasing, a little more waiting, and then he forced inside.
A hand left his hip to rat in his hair, tugging sharply and pulling the boy upright. Dick whined as teeth bit into his shoulder, biting harder and harder as the thrusts continued, teeth eventually breaking the skin.
He bit the boy where he could reach, and Robin was at his breaking point, tears falling silently. The thrusts quickened to a brutal pace, and the Boy Wonder was reduced to broken sobs.
He was so deep. Too deep. Unbelievably deep. Dick was crying for it to stop beneath his gag, and in the same instant, the man behind him tensed and throbbed, arching into him.
He pulled out and stood up, leaving Robin to collapse against the table. Dick heard the rustle of clothing as he dressed himself.
The Joker leaned back to admire his handiwork. The boy was beautiful. Truly a tarnished angel. Semen dripping from his hole, spine bent and chest heaving with effort, he was incredible.
Smiling, he leaned beneath the table to select his tool, fingers curling around his favorite. This had proven to be a good night.
Robin slumped defeated, all of the fight gone from him completely. As his attacker stood from his crouch, Dick’s face filled with resignation. He couldn’t fight any longer. Couldn’t pretend to fight. He simply wished for a quick end.
He flinched as he saw the crowbar rise over the man’s head, and his eyes screwed tightly shut as it began to swing, whistling as it cut through the air.
The first blow landed to the side of his face, and pain flooded his awareness. Everything seemed to blur with the subsequent hits, and Dick’s last coherent thought was gratefulness that he’d be unconscious.
He felt the sharp pain to the side of his head once more, and his world went dark, the colors of green hair and a purple suit blurring together.
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Dick awoke, hours later, to a splitting headache and muffled voices. He couldn't fight the panic that began to swell, fearing that he wasn't actually dead, and the possibility that he'd be forced to endure another round with the clown.
His fear was quickly dampened when he recognized one of the voices as Bruce’s. Dick didn't bother attempting to decipher the conversation, simply enjoying Bruce's tone, his words muffled as if Dick were underwater.
He did, however, take notice minutes later as a cool cloth mopped sweat from his clammy brow. Dick made an attempt to open his eyes but ended up squinting against the light.
Dick wanted to know what had happened, when had Batman gotten there, and were those hostages okay, but Bruce silenced his parting lips with a quick kiss, so Dick shut his eyes again and listened to Bruce’s steady breathing.