(no subject)
Title : How to Train Your Bird
Author : to-shiki
Fandom: The Dark Knight Rises
Pairings : Bane/Blake, maybe some Barsad/Blake real quick like
Rating: PG-13ish, there will be swearing
Warnings: reference of drug use (Bane's a dirty dirty liar if it gets him what he wants), and Stockholm syndrome of sorts. Also, no beta was harmed in the making of this fic. You have been warned.
Summary : prompt from the 1st TDKR kink meme. Chasity devices and orgasm denial
Disclaimer : Totally not my characters. Just the situations they put with are mine. If I really did somehow manage to own the rights Bane and Blake would have at least run into each other during the movie.
Author's Notes: I haven't written anything in so long. Rather disappointed in myself. Also, my cat, Ebi, says nyaaa.
The first present Bane bestowed upon him (aside from the headache induced by the chemicals used to kidnap him) was an admittedly gorgeous black leather collar. When Bane held it up for his approval Blake made sure to get a good look at it so he could remove it when his kidnapper’s back was turned. It was thick, it would take up at least a good 1 ½” of his neck. The inside of it looked like it could be as smooth as a baby’s bottom (“So as not to damage your fair skin. That’s my privilege.”). On the outside, engraved in the smooth inky material were tiny outlines of birds filled in with blue. They were nothing fancy, a 1st grader could have designed it, but it was pleasing to the eye. In the front there was a simple D-ring and in back a standard buckle found on most pet collars.
“Well?” An eyebrow rose in question when Blake continued to stare at the proffered gift.
The surprisingly not bound former police officer sat on his cot and glared at Bane. “Why?” A loaded question daring the mercenary to answer pleasingly when the ball was still in Bane’s hands in the form of the collar.
“This,” Bane announced as he leaned in preparing to wrap the leather around John’s neck, “will show my men that you are mine, little bird.” He froze when Blake leaned away, back pressing against the stone wall.
“I’m not yours,” he spat. “And don’t call me little bird!” He used all his strength to knee the startled villain in the balls, a low blow that he absolutely did not regret, and sprinted for the cell door.
Three steps away from the cot and five steps from the door were as far as he got. Muscle bound arms swung over his head and pulled back, nearly choking Blake with the collar. It was quickly buckled at the nape of his neck. Blake’s fingers scrambled to get a purchase on the material as it was pulled around his neck, brain freaking out over the thought of Bane clasping it too tight.
The strange mechanical hissing that was Bane’s breathing next to his ear cleared some of the panic. It took a minute longer than it should have to understand just what it was he was whispering.
“It is for your own good, little bird. My Robin,” he whispered, one hand going to rest over Blake’s heart. “My men would be all over you in an instant, defiling what it rightfully mine. Then I would have to punish all involved.” The hand moved down to cup Blake’s limp cock through too thin pants. “You’re not ready for that yet, my pet.” He pressed the opening of his mask against Blake’s neck right up against the collar and breathed in, literally tasting the leather and sweat mixing together.
He turned the both of them around with one hand still at Blake’s crotch and the other at the fastener of the collar. Using only a portion of his strength he maneuvered his pet to lie face down on the cot’s thin mattress, making sure to cover as much of his body with his own with legs bracing his weight to avoid smothering his bird. He couldn’t help but groan and rub his own hardening erection against Blake’s ass.
When met with hands flailing backwards to try and stop him he merely pinned them above John’s head and continued to rut. He watched, quite pleased with himself, as his pet pressed his face into the mattress to smother his groans. Now whether they were made out of anger or arousal he couldn’t be sure.
“Just a little more, my bird,” he promised barely sounding like he was exerting himself. His pace quickened when he felt Blake spread his legs just enough for him to fit better, angle better. A trembling built up in both of them as Bane’s rhythm stuttered then stilled completely, a dampness spreading through his pants and into Blake’s.
Bane rested his mouth back at John’s throat in a parody of a kiss before standing. John continued to tremble and let loose an occasional whimper at the feeling of the wetness staining his pants. Bane simply stood there admiring his work before heading for the door. He paused before closing it.
“It’s for your own good.”
~^~
The second present should have arrived the very next day.
John hadn’t moved from the position Bane had left him in the entire night. He fitfully slept there all night, hands together at the wrists above his head on the cot frame and legs slightly spread. He kept his face pressed firmly against the mattress in hopes of hiding the damning blush that had yet to leave his cheeks and ears each time he thought of Bane’s weight pressing him down as he jerked off against his ass.
How was it possible to tell when night passed into day? Wherever they were holding him echoed the noises of men working, yelling at each other, machines in use straight into his cell. When enough time had gone by he’d noticed that the sounds were quieter - the graveyard shift so to say. The light shining in through the barred window placed high on the door would dim as well. Only when he could once again hear the loud boisterous laughing and louder machines did he finally jerk off the cot towards the non-privacy sink and toilet in the corner of his cell.
He quickly relieved himself. The ever gnawing fear of someone walking into his cell with his pants down made sure he didn’t waste time having his back turned to the door. Habit saw him washing his hands thoroughly at the sink with a well worn bar of soap (didn’t they realize he could kill himself with this? Wait. Not that desperate yet.). Shuffling a few steps away from the sink an idea stuck him and had him turning around and reaching for the soap again.
Not twenty minutes later the lock on his door was turning and the door swung open. Bright light from the hallway spilled into the small cell only to be mostly blocked by Bane’s mountainous figure. He eyed the empty cot fondly as he stepped into the room. He’d been hoping to wake his pet and potentially have a repeat of last night. Maybe go a little further. The unevenness of the ground beneath his foot caused him to glance down warily.
A thick strap of leather stuck out from under his foot. Little blue spots on a black background.
His pet had removed his collar.
Bane breathed deep, hissing air out through his mask as he thought of the best way to deal with his naughty pet.
The very first thought was to grab him by the scruff of his neck and throw his ungrateful ass to his men - those hardworking men who haven’t seen their wives or girlfriends or whores in so long that wouldn’t mind a bit of action in any sort so long as they have Bane’s approval. That was hastily discarded considering Bane himself hadn’t had a chance to truly sample his little bird.
Simply taking him by force, then? No, didn’t want to install fear or hate into the smaller man. He had plans to keep him by his side long after his plans for Gotham were completed. Forcing him to submit too quickly could also result in breaking him, as Bane had witnessed several times during his sentence in the Pit, and he had no desire to fuck an empty shell.
Well if his bird was going to act like a child and throw things around then the best course of action would be to treat him like one. Thoughts of turning his pet’s pale ass bright red lightened his mood as he scanned the room.
One sweep found him in the corner furthest away from both the cot and the sink. He was huddled on the floor holding what looked like a piece of his tee-shirt Bane remembered him wearing. A heartbeat later had him mentally drooling over the fact that he was stark naked. Nothing enticing could be seen aside from long legs folded up to his chest and just this side of muscled arms wrapped around said legs.
The glare sent his way did little to dissuade him from going through with the delightful idea of spanking his naughty bird.
Bane took his eyes off the huddled form long enough to bend down and pick up the discarded collar and go back to the door. He spoke quietly with whoever was guarding the door before leaving it open just a crack to allow more light into the cell. Another sweep of the cell showed wet clothes dripping water from where they hung on rusted nails sticking out of the wall.
“You removed your lovely collar, pet,” he accused, making sure there was enough threat in his voice. “Care to tell me why you thought you were allowed to do so?”
“Allowed?” Blake squared his shoulders and raised his head, beads of water rolling down. His hands clenched into fists, squeezing excess water out of his make shift washcloth. “I told you last time I’m not yours!” The anger in his eyes dimmed a fraction as he brought the washcloth up to his neck. “Plus it was irritating my skin.”
The pitiful puppy eyes he sent Bane’s way was meant to manipulate the man towering over him into lowering his guard. Unfortunately for Blake it only served to reinforce Bane’s desire to keep him, train him, into being his.
Bane crouched down, knees nearly touching each wall to imprison his pet. Calloused fingers gently traced reddened skin. Blake had indeed told the truth. The reaction went all the way around his neck and was wider than the collar itself. There were even scratch marks and abrasions where his little bird had tried to relieve the inflammation.
Bane suppressed the sigh of frustration that wished to escape. “This changes my plans for you, little bird.” With the speed no man his size should possess he grabbed Blake’s wrists and held them behind his back then hefted him over his shoulder.
“Put!” Kick. “Me!” Wiggle. “DOWN!” Mix of wiggle and kick. “And I’m not your damned bird. Stop calling me that!” Restrained hands clenched into fists at his vulnerable state.
“You would do well not to attract attention to yourself like this, little bird. My men have seen you now and are captivated by your appearance just as I am. It would be a shame should I lose my grip on you and you fall into their clutches. I doubt I’d be able to get to you in time to prevent any…misfortune from befalling your body.”
That instantly froze John’s movements. Breathing heavily he risked raising his head from where it faced Bane’s back. They were going through long winding stone hallways, men loitering everywhere, some working some relaxing. All who weren’t busy actually working seemed to have their eyes plastered to Blake’s body. He could see the eyes hungrily eating him up as their boss carried him fully naked over his shoulder.
While he seriously doubted that Bane wouldn’t be fast enough on purpose to save his ass it didn’t stop him from instinctively stilling and curling what he could of his body as close to his captor as possible. The idea of one man having his way with him was much more appealing than one man and several more.
“would you really?” Blake whispered muscles all tensed at the thought of Bane’s men descending upon him like ravenous beasts. He flinched when he felt Bane pause. The men were still staring, a few here and there made crude hand gestures to others. All the blood rushing to his head distorted the noise from crass men and their machines into cruel half-formed words.
Suddenly they were gone. The noise, the staring eyes all sealed away behind a new door. He let his forehead rest against Bane’s back. The sigh of relief was short-lived.
The hand at his wrists pulled and the shoulder under him shifted. He found himself flying through the air to land on a surprisingly firm yet comfortable bed, like the kind found in the high end hotel chains. Blake had all of five seconds to appreciate the drastic change in bedding before Bane was upon him once more trapping his hands together above his head.
“God damnit!” The struggling began anew now that the newly discovered threat of Bane’s men having an interest in him was securely hidden away behind the thick door. With the masked villain of Gotham looming over him, one hand holding his wrists and the other braced on his bare chest, he didn’t have much leverage. His legs kicked out but they were just as useless. Bane’s hips pressing down onto John’s and oh it feels like someone was getting a little excited from this.
“Hmm, indeed,” Bane’s voice rumble-hissed down to him. The hand on his chest spread out, thumb and pinky brushing against dark nipples standing straight up (‘It’s the damned cold!’). “Your God has indeed damned you. He has forsaken you and delivered you into my arms.” During his little announcement he let his hand brush up his bird’s chest, over his throat, and cupped his cheek almost reverently.
The soft touch distracted Blake just like it was meant to. It didn’t help that Bane had slowly lowered his voice to an almost awed whisper. Like he himself was surprised at finding them as they were. One blink, two, and suddenly there were hands stroking down his face and tracing his mouth, back down his throat, and toying playfully with his nipples again.
‘Wait. Hands? As in plural?’
It dawned on him quite quickly that his hands were very much so tangled up in something soft. He tilted his head back as far as possible to try and figure out what it was. It being the damned bed sheet. Somehow Bane had managed to twist his hands up complicated enough that they were trapped.
His struggles gradually died down. He tried flexing his hips and flails his legs but it did nothing to throw Bane off of him. The guy didn’t even falter, hands running roughly over Blake’s chest.
“I do not see why you fight so,” Bane murmured to his pretty little bird. He does so enjoy ruffling his new pet’s feathers. “Is it because you wish to go back out and save your precious Gotham? The very same city who has forgotten all about you?”
That made his bird stop struggling.
“There’s one or two still out there, asking if you’ve been spotted. But that is all.” The man bringing about Gotham’s reckoning gently cupped his pet’s face in his calloused hands. “I have my men keeping an ear out for those foolish enough to ask about you. The number has grown smaller as the weeks go by.”
Blake desperately wished to shake his head in denial. “You’re lying,” is all he can choke out. It’s barely a whisper dipped in despair but in this room, underground and cut off from everything - everyone - it’s heard loud and clear. “I’ve only - It’s only been two days!”
“Two?” A thumb thoughtfully brushes away a stray tear. “No, my pet, no. You’ve been down here with me and my men for nearly a month now.” Bane shifted down until he was nose to mask with his pet. “But you were a very bad little bird and had to be kept in line anyway I deemed fit.”
The police officer in him took what he knew of kidnapping cases (a lot) and added what he knew of Bane (absolutely nothing when had he even been told his name ohfuck!) and it equaled out to the only sound reasoning behind his lost time.
“You drugged my food.”
“Among other ways,” his captor agreed.
That settled the hands left his face and returned to his chest.”I had hoped after so long in my care you’d have settled down enough to accept my attentions. It appears,” he pinched his pet’s nipples hard, earning a moan and growing bulge under him, “that only your body recognizes me as its master.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” He meant for it to come out angry but his body was truly enjoying the hands worshipping it. “I’m not your pet!” He was able to convince his mouth at least. His statement was punctuated by spitting on Bane.
The wad of saliva landed right on the mask over his mouth. He figured that is he couldn’t break out, somehow endear himself to Bane, and he was all but forgotten then he might as well end it now. Right? He’s a cop. He’s seen what happens to women, and some men, who were bright optimistic people turned to mindless sex toys for the underground market.
Bane’s reaction was the exact opposite of what he’d been hoping for.
Instead of raging at him with filthy words and insults he merely breathed deep a few times, eyes darkly calculating the man beneath him. Instead of beating him unconscious he picked up a corner of the blanket they lay on and dabbed the spit off as best he could. Instead of neatly (or messily) snapping his next he braced his hands on the bed palms down.
He shifted his weight and moved back so his ass now rested on the smaller man’s thighs. One hand moved to rest on his pet’s right hip, the other wrapped around the base of his cock. His cock that was no longer on speaking terms with his brain (hah!) because while he was panicking (‘Oh oh fuck he’s going to rip it off and I’ll bleed to death down here fuck!’) it happily grew hard in the blink of an eye.
A raspy chuckle made it through his inner panicking. “Do you see what I mean, my little Robin? Your body is still ever so responsive to my touch.” He emphasized this by stroking up and down slowly, his dry hand rough on the sensitive skin. And what, pray tell, did the almost too tight jerk off do to him?
It made him come. He ejaculated after less than five strokes. His body betrayed him by showing how much it enjoyed Bane’s attention by shooting his sperm all over his stomach. Hot cum hit his body and all his dizzy mind could process was ‘I’ve never come that quickly before. What the hell?’
Bane kept his hand around the softening cock. His other moved up to rub comforting circles on his pet’s trembling abdomen, not caring when his fingers smeared cooling cum into flesh. His eyes took on a thoughtful expression, much like after he’d been spat on, only not as clouded by anger.
Not that his pet was looking. The poor boy was too busy trying to regulate his breathing, eyes closed in concentration.
Once John had calmed down enough he wearily opened his eyes and looked at the man claiming to own him. A slight rising of his head and he could see the hands he felt tormenting his body. “Now what?” he asked dejectedly. If the man wasn’t going to kill him then he was back to square one of trying to win him over enough to lower his guard. Despite the fact that this muscle-bound man with the frightening hissing mask didn’t look like he would lower his guard for anyone much less someone he thought of as a pet.
Two fingers rubbed over his stomach collecting his cum while the other tightened painfully on his limp dick. The sudden flair of pain on sensitive parts had him gasping. Bane took this opportunity to shove his cum-coated fingers in the bird’s mouth. “Now you will lick my fingers clean until we have cleared up the mess you’ve made.”
He pulled his fingers from his pet’s mouth once he was sure the boy had done as instructed. His fingers returned to his pet’s stomach and wiped up more cum. A squeeze and mouth opened up again to accept and clean. He was pleased to notice that after the second time his pet didn’t need any coercing to lick his fingers clean. By the fourth time his tongue was out and ready to lick before Bane even had his hand close to his mouth.
A few more rounds and the tethered bird was as clean as he was going to be without actual soap and water. “I was going to give you another present today, pet. A lovely set of cuffs, two sets actually, to match your collar. But I’m afraid that after what happened with your collar,” he paused to glare at his semi-defiant little bird, “they’ll have to wait.”
Bane removed himself from the bed. From where he was lying Blake had an excellent view of the man’s hard-on trying to force its way through his pants. John swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Oh damn,” he drawled with the barest of trembling, “I was oh so hoping to get them now so I could be all tied up for your pleasure. Wait. I already am. Never mind.” And just what had happened to his plan to woo this beast of a man? There were some days that Blake just hated his mouth.
In response Bane opened the fly of his pants (look, ma, no underroos! Shut UP brain!) and jerked off over him. He lasted much longer than Blake had and even had the audacity to come all over his just cleaned stomach. His eyes never left his as he spent himself on his bird. Putting his cock away he bent over and made Blake clean himself up once more.
‘Well, fuck. Might as well give it up,’ he thought. The idea of pseudo submitting to a man as strong and only slightly crazy like Bane to try and survive wasn’t too bad. It could be a lot worse. Like the Joker worse. John kept repeating this hardly comforting thought as he sucked Bane’s come off the man’s fingers. He was frightened out of his mind to find he didn’t mind the taste.
Maybe he could convince him not to use the cuffs? It would be easier to escape if he was tied up with the bed sheet, yeah? He nipped at the fingers as they withdrew for the last time. “Well if these cuffs of yours are going to be anywhere near as rash-inducing as the collar I wouldn’t keep ‘em on anyways.” For added effect he tilted his head back to expose his throat and in turn the puffy redness encircling it.
“Don’t worry, my Robin.” Bane kept his voice pitched low as he reached out a hand, the same one he fed his cum to him, and rubbed soothingly at the irritated skin. “I may have a way to fix that mistake. First things first.” He reached over Blake and gathered his wrists, bed sheets and all, and pulled him up into a sitting position. Blake whimpered softly as tensed, stretched out muscles voiced their displeasure long his nerves. “Shh, little bird, shh.” Bane attempted to comfort his pet as he rubbed his hands up and down John’s arms, making sure to briefly massage shoulders. “Shh. I will think of something for your presents, not to worry. I promise you. Instead I have another gift. I had hoped to give it to you much earlier. The traitor in our midst delayed everything for quite some time.”
Withou even giving him a warning, Bane bent down and scooped his bird into his arms. The squawk of surprise that Blake made did nothing to dissuade Bane from referring to him as a bird. He carried him across the room to an opening in the far corner. Just inside was a door on the left.
“Open the door, my pet.”
John eyed him suspiciously. “Why? What’s behind it?” He gathered as much of the bed sheet as he could to cover himself. Just in case the man’s subordinates were on the other side.
The man sighed, indulgently. “Nothing deadly, my Robin. Only the very thing you’ve been begging me for the past weeks before you…you fell ill.” An eye twitch gave away the fact that Bane didn’t like his own wording of what his pet was like before coming to in the cell. “The men were finally able to get it finished last night.”
Reluctantly his bird reached for the handle, barely paying attention to the fact that the bed sheet was slowly loosening its hold around his wrists. “I’ve been buggin’ you about this for how long? Why can’t I remember any of it?” He turned the knob and gently pushed the door open.
It was impossible for him to tell if what Bane was telling him was true or not. Many a foster parent and then the father of St. Swithin’s had exclaimed and scolded him over what an impressive imagination he possessed. So that paired with Bane’s words caused images to jump around wildly in his mind. Bane telling him he was “ill” along with calling him by his given name that he’d stop going by long before leaving the boys’ home fueled the idea of him really being Bane’s.
The man cradling him sighed. “It is because of the drugs. I spoke,” here the words were enunciated to hint at much pain and suffering occurred while the talking took place, “with the man supplying them and found that he had tempered with them. They were to be mere antibiotics for an infection you’d received after being injured sparring with Barsad. They made you…unpleasant.”
Bane shouldered his way into the room black as pitch. Both could feel the temperature difference as soon as they entered. The room had to be at least ten degrees warmer than the bedroom. Hands scrabbled desperately for a hold when Bane dipped one shoulder to rest against the wall.
“Close your eyes, my little bird. They are not ready yet for the change.”
Not a single protest was given as he followed Bane’s command. He knew from experience that he was talking about the sharp pain associated with going from a darkened room to turning on the lights. Since he didn’t know how long he’d been in a barely lit cell, then carried through a hallway with sparse lighting, and finally a bedroom with half the lights off if it was fully lit it would hurt his eyes like a bitch.
For added measure he tucked his head into Bane’s shoulder right against his neck. Being so close made it impossible to miss the fluttering of Bane’s heartbeat. He certainly didn’t miss the surprised inhale.
Bane jerking his body up both flipped the light switch and bounced his bird’s head away from his neck. Even with his eyes closed he still flinched from the brightness stabbing through. He gave himself a few seconds to get used to the light before opening them. He blinked a couple times to help adjust. Then he blinked a couple more once he took in his surroundings.
The floor was covered with large white hexagon tiles. Even the walls had the same pattern only smaller. Granted the walls looked like they were the last to be done since they were all either half-way or mostly finished leaving exposed stone and grouting everywhere close to the ceiling. On the right of the door was a sink that looked like it had been stolen from a home that’d been demolished. Its base was covered in hairline cracks and the exposed piping dripped water from multiple rust-eaten cracks. The toilet a good ten feet across from it wasn’t fairing any better. Thankfully it didn’t smell like it would shatter anytime soon. In between the two was a small 2 door cabinet about waist high if Blake’d been standing. Smack dab in the center of the room was a small wooden stool polished so smooth it reflected the overhead track lighting. Underneath it was a drain the same diameter of the stool.
It was what lay in the middle of the room against the left wall that nearly had John salivating. The entire morning he’d been washing himself he’d imagined how good it would feel to bath in an actual bathtub and right there in front of him was an antique cast iron tub, all four clawed feet holding steady and the end opposite the faucet raised in a perfect arch for leaning back and relaxing on. Unlike the sink and toilet it had no cracks, didn’t appear to want to fall apart at the touch, and its piping was shiny new. Between it and the wall was another small cabinet, 1 door this time, with clean towels folded on top.
“I’ve…I’ve been asking you for a bathroom?” he asked, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. Granted this was a thousand, scratch that, a million times better than what he had in the cell but this extravagance was a little much for a man like Bane to spend on a pet. Unless he saw him as more than that?
“Yes.” Bane walked in and placed his stunned bird on the stool. “Before you were injured then drugged you informed me, every day I might add pet, that you were tired of having a “hobo bath in a bathroom the size of a breadbox.” My suggestion of bathing in the waters in the exposed piping like the other men was less than appreciated.” As he talked he walked over to the 2 door cabinet pulling out soap, a washrag, and a small basin which he filled with water from the sink. On the way back to his pet, his pet who was untangling the bed sheet from his wrists and making no attempt to flee he was proud to note, he twisted the knobs on the tub and stopped the drain. He selected a few oils balanced on the lip of the tub and added them to the steaming water. His bird’s skin would shine beautifully in the underground’s lighting.
Back in front of his boy he knelt on the cold tile placing his collection of bathing tools on the floor between his knees. Both the bar of soap and washrag went into the small basin and lathered up generously. He kept his breathing slow, posture relaxed when he asked, “May I bathe you now, my Robin?”
Author : to-shiki
Fandom: The Dark Knight Rises
Pairings : Bane/Blake, maybe some Barsad/Blake real quick like
Rating: PG-13ish, there will be swearing
Warnings: reference of drug use (Bane's a dirty dirty liar if it gets him what he wants), and Stockholm syndrome of sorts. Also, no beta was harmed in the making of this fic. You have been warned.
Summary : prompt from the 1st TDKR kink meme. Chasity devices and orgasm denial
Disclaimer : Totally not my characters. Just the situations they put with are mine. If I really did somehow manage to own the rights Bane and Blake would have at least run into each other during the movie.
Author's Notes: I haven't written anything in so long. Rather disappointed in myself. Also, my cat, Ebi, says nyaaa.
The first present Bane bestowed upon him (aside from the headache induced by the chemicals used to kidnap him) was an admittedly gorgeous black leather collar. When Bane held it up for his approval Blake made sure to get a good look at it so he could remove it when his kidnapper’s back was turned. It was thick, it would take up at least a good 1 ½” of his neck. The inside of it looked like it could be as smooth as a baby’s bottom (“So as not to damage your fair skin. That’s my privilege.”). On the outside, engraved in the smooth inky material were tiny outlines of birds filled in with blue. They were nothing fancy, a 1st grader could have designed it, but it was pleasing to the eye. In the front there was a simple D-ring and in back a standard buckle found on most pet collars.
“Well?” An eyebrow rose in question when Blake continued to stare at the proffered gift.
The surprisingly not bound former police officer sat on his cot and glared at Bane. “Why?” A loaded question daring the mercenary to answer pleasingly when the ball was still in Bane’s hands in the form of the collar.
“This,” Bane announced as he leaned in preparing to wrap the leather around John’s neck, “will show my men that you are mine, little bird.” He froze when Blake leaned away, back pressing against the stone wall.
“I’m not yours,” he spat. “And don’t call me little bird!” He used all his strength to knee the startled villain in the balls, a low blow that he absolutely did not regret, and sprinted for the cell door.
Three steps away from the cot and five steps from the door were as far as he got. Muscle bound arms swung over his head and pulled back, nearly choking Blake with the collar. It was quickly buckled at the nape of his neck. Blake’s fingers scrambled to get a purchase on the material as it was pulled around his neck, brain freaking out over the thought of Bane clasping it too tight.
The strange mechanical hissing that was Bane’s breathing next to his ear cleared some of the panic. It took a minute longer than it should have to understand just what it was he was whispering.
“It is for your own good, little bird. My Robin,” he whispered, one hand going to rest over Blake’s heart. “My men would be all over you in an instant, defiling what it rightfully mine. Then I would have to punish all involved.” The hand moved down to cup Blake’s limp cock through too thin pants. “You’re not ready for that yet, my pet.” He pressed the opening of his mask against Blake’s neck right up against the collar and breathed in, literally tasting the leather and sweat mixing together.
He turned the both of them around with one hand still at Blake’s crotch and the other at the fastener of the collar. Using only a portion of his strength he maneuvered his pet to lie face down on the cot’s thin mattress, making sure to cover as much of his body with his own with legs bracing his weight to avoid smothering his bird. He couldn’t help but groan and rub his own hardening erection against Blake’s ass.
When met with hands flailing backwards to try and stop him he merely pinned them above John’s head and continued to rut. He watched, quite pleased with himself, as his pet pressed his face into the mattress to smother his groans. Now whether they were made out of anger or arousal he couldn’t be sure.
“Just a little more, my bird,” he promised barely sounding like he was exerting himself. His pace quickened when he felt Blake spread his legs just enough for him to fit better, angle better. A trembling built up in both of them as Bane’s rhythm stuttered then stilled completely, a dampness spreading through his pants and into Blake’s.
Bane rested his mouth back at John’s throat in a parody of a kiss before standing. John continued to tremble and let loose an occasional whimper at the feeling of the wetness staining his pants. Bane simply stood there admiring his work before heading for the door. He paused before closing it.
“It’s for your own good.”
~^~
The second present should have arrived the very next day.
John hadn’t moved from the position Bane had left him in the entire night. He fitfully slept there all night, hands together at the wrists above his head on the cot frame and legs slightly spread. He kept his face pressed firmly against the mattress in hopes of hiding the damning blush that had yet to leave his cheeks and ears each time he thought of Bane’s weight pressing him down as he jerked off against his ass.
How was it possible to tell when night passed into day? Wherever they were holding him echoed the noises of men working, yelling at each other, machines in use straight into his cell. When enough time had gone by he’d noticed that the sounds were quieter - the graveyard shift so to say. The light shining in through the barred window placed high on the door would dim as well. Only when he could once again hear the loud boisterous laughing and louder machines did he finally jerk off the cot towards the non-privacy sink and toilet in the corner of his cell.
He quickly relieved himself. The ever gnawing fear of someone walking into his cell with his pants down made sure he didn’t waste time having his back turned to the door. Habit saw him washing his hands thoroughly at the sink with a well worn bar of soap (didn’t they realize he could kill himself with this? Wait. Not that desperate yet.). Shuffling a few steps away from the sink an idea stuck him and had him turning around and reaching for the soap again.
Not twenty minutes later the lock on his door was turning and the door swung open. Bright light from the hallway spilled into the small cell only to be mostly blocked by Bane’s mountainous figure. He eyed the empty cot fondly as he stepped into the room. He’d been hoping to wake his pet and potentially have a repeat of last night. Maybe go a little further. The unevenness of the ground beneath his foot caused him to glance down warily.
A thick strap of leather stuck out from under his foot. Little blue spots on a black background.
His pet had removed his collar.
Bane breathed deep, hissing air out through his mask as he thought of the best way to deal with his naughty pet.
The very first thought was to grab him by the scruff of his neck and throw his ungrateful ass to his men - those hardworking men who haven’t seen their wives or girlfriends or whores in so long that wouldn’t mind a bit of action in any sort so long as they have Bane’s approval. That was hastily discarded considering Bane himself hadn’t had a chance to truly sample his little bird.
Simply taking him by force, then? No, didn’t want to install fear or hate into the smaller man. He had plans to keep him by his side long after his plans for Gotham were completed. Forcing him to submit too quickly could also result in breaking him, as Bane had witnessed several times during his sentence in the Pit, and he had no desire to fuck an empty shell.
Well if his bird was going to act like a child and throw things around then the best course of action would be to treat him like one. Thoughts of turning his pet’s pale ass bright red lightened his mood as he scanned the room.
One sweep found him in the corner furthest away from both the cot and the sink. He was huddled on the floor holding what looked like a piece of his tee-shirt Bane remembered him wearing. A heartbeat later had him mentally drooling over the fact that he was stark naked. Nothing enticing could be seen aside from long legs folded up to his chest and just this side of muscled arms wrapped around said legs.
The glare sent his way did little to dissuade him from going through with the delightful idea of spanking his naughty bird.
Bane took his eyes off the huddled form long enough to bend down and pick up the discarded collar and go back to the door. He spoke quietly with whoever was guarding the door before leaving it open just a crack to allow more light into the cell. Another sweep of the cell showed wet clothes dripping water from where they hung on rusted nails sticking out of the wall.
“You removed your lovely collar, pet,” he accused, making sure there was enough threat in his voice. “Care to tell me why you thought you were allowed to do so?”
“Allowed?” Blake squared his shoulders and raised his head, beads of water rolling down. His hands clenched into fists, squeezing excess water out of his make shift washcloth. “I told you last time I’m not yours!” The anger in his eyes dimmed a fraction as he brought the washcloth up to his neck. “Plus it was irritating my skin.”
The pitiful puppy eyes he sent Bane’s way was meant to manipulate the man towering over him into lowering his guard. Unfortunately for Blake it only served to reinforce Bane’s desire to keep him, train him, into being his.
Bane crouched down, knees nearly touching each wall to imprison his pet. Calloused fingers gently traced reddened skin. Blake had indeed told the truth. The reaction went all the way around his neck and was wider than the collar itself. There were even scratch marks and abrasions where his little bird had tried to relieve the inflammation.
Bane suppressed the sigh of frustration that wished to escape. “This changes my plans for you, little bird.” With the speed no man his size should possess he grabbed Blake’s wrists and held them behind his back then hefted him over his shoulder.
“Put!” Kick. “Me!” Wiggle. “DOWN!” Mix of wiggle and kick. “And I’m not your damned bird. Stop calling me that!” Restrained hands clenched into fists at his vulnerable state.
“You would do well not to attract attention to yourself like this, little bird. My men have seen you now and are captivated by your appearance just as I am. It would be a shame should I lose my grip on you and you fall into their clutches. I doubt I’d be able to get to you in time to prevent any…misfortune from befalling your body.”
That instantly froze John’s movements. Breathing heavily he risked raising his head from where it faced Bane’s back. They were going through long winding stone hallways, men loitering everywhere, some working some relaxing. All who weren’t busy actually working seemed to have their eyes plastered to Blake’s body. He could see the eyes hungrily eating him up as their boss carried him fully naked over his shoulder.
While he seriously doubted that Bane wouldn’t be fast enough on purpose to save his ass it didn’t stop him from instinctively stilling and curling what he could of his body as close to his captor as possible. The idea of one man having his way with him was much more appealing than one man and several more.
“would you really?” Blake whispered muscles all tensed at the thought of Bane’s men descending upon him like ravenous beasts. He flinched when he felt Bane pause. The men were still staring, a few here and there made crude hand gestures to others. All the blood rushing to his head distorted the noise from crass men and their machines into cruel half-formed words.
Suddenly they were gone. The noise, the staring eyes all sealed away behind a new door. He let his forehead rest against Bane’s back. The sigh of relief was short-lived.
The hand at his wrists pulled and the shoulder under him shifted. He found himself flying through the air to land on a surprisingly firm yet comfortable bed, like the kind found in the high end hotel chains. Blake had all of five seconds to appreciate the drastic change in bedding before Bane was upon him once more trapping his hands together above his head.
“God damnit!” The struggling began anew now that the newly discovered threat of Bane’s men having an interest in him was securely hidden away behind the thick door. With the masked villain of Gotham looming over him, one hand holding his wrists and the other braced on his bare chest, he didn’t have much leverage. His legs kicked out but they were just as useless. Bane’s hips pressing down onto John’s and oh it feels like someone was getting a little excited from this.
“Hmm, indeed,” Bane’s voice rumble-hissed down to him. The hand on his chest spread out, thumb and pinky brushing against dark nipples standing straight up (‘It’s the damned cold!’). “Your God has indeed damned you. He has forsaken you and delivered you into my arms.” During his little announcement he let his hand brush up his bird’s chest, over his throat, and cupped his cheek almost reverently.
The soft touch distracted Blake just like it was meant to. It didn’t help that Bane had slowly lowered his voice to an almost awed whisper. Like he himself was surprised at finding them as they were. One blink, two, and suddenly there were hands stroking down his face and tracing his mouth, back down his throat, and toying playfully with his nipples again.
‘Wait. Hands? As in plural?’
It dawned on him quite quickly that his hands were very much so tangled up in something soft. He tilted his head back as far as possible to try and figure out what it was. It being the damned bed sheet. Somehow Bane had managed to twist his hands up complicated enough that they were trapped.
His struggles gradually died down. He tried flexing his hips and flails his legs but it did nothing to throw Bane off of him. The guy didn’t even falter, hands running roughly over Blake’s chest.
“I do not see why you fight so,” Bane murmured to his pretty little bird. He does so enjoy ruffling his new pet’s feathers. “Is it because you wish to go back out and save your precious Gotham? The very same city who has forgotten all about you?”
That made his bird stop struggling.
“There’s one or two still out there, asking if you’ve been spotted. But that is all.” The man bringing about Gotham’s reckoning gently cupped his pet’s face in his calloused hands. “I have my men keeping an ear out for those foolish enough to ask about you. The number has grown smaller as the weeks go by.”
Blake desperately wished to shake his head in denial. “You’re lying,” is all he can choke out. It’s barely a whisper dipped in despair but in this room, underground and cut off from everything - everyone - it’s heard loud and clear. “I’ve only - It’s only been two days!”
“Two?” A thumb thoughtfully brushes away a stray tear. “No, my pet, no. You’ve been down here with me and my men for nearly a month now.” Bane shifted down until he was nose to mask with his pet. “But you were a very bad little bird and had to be kept in line anyway I deemed fit.”
The police officer in him took what he knew of kidnapping cases (a lot) and added what he knew of Bane (absolutely nothing when had he even been told his name ohfuck!) and it equaled out to the only sound reasoning behind his lost time.
“You drugged my food.”
“Among other ways,” his captor agreed.
That settled the hands left his face and returned to his chest.”I had hoped after so long in my care you’d have settled down enough to accept my attentions. It appears,” he pinched his pet’s nipples hard, earning a moan and growing bulge under him, “that only your body recognizes me as its master.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” He meant for it to come out angry but his body was truly enjoying the hands worshipping it. “I’m not your pet!” He was able to convince his mouth at least. His statement was punctuated by spitting on Bane.
The wad of saliva landed right on the mask over his mouth. He figured that is he couldn’t break out, somehow endear himself to Bane, and he was all but forgotten then he might as well end it now. Right? He’s a cop. He’s seen what happens to women, and some men, who were bright optimistic people turned to mindless sex toys for the underground market.
Bane’s reaction was the exact opposite of what he’d been hoping for.
Instead of raging at him with filthy words and insults he merely breathed deep a few times, eyes darkly calculating the man beneath him. Instead of beating him unconscious he picked up a corner of the blanket they lay on and dabbed the spit off as best he could. Instead of neatly (or messily) snapping his next he braced his hands on the bed palms down.
He shifted his weight and moved back so his ass now rested on the smaller man’s thighs. One hand moved to rest on his pet’s right hip, the other wrapped around the base of his cock. His cock that was no longer on speaking terms with his brain (hah!) because while he was panicking (‘Oh oh fuck he’s going to rip it off and I’ll bleed to death down here fuck!’) it happily grew hard in the blink of an eye.
A raspy chuckle made it through his inner panicking. “Do you see what I mean, my little Robin? Your body is still ever so responsive to my touch.” He emphasized this by stroking up and down slowly, his dry hand rough on the sensitive skin. And what, pray tell, did the almost too tight jerk off do to him?
It made him come. He ejaculated after less than five strokes. His body betrayed him by showing how much it enjoyed Bane’s attention by shooting his sperm all over his stomach. Hot cum hit his body and all his dizzy mind could process was ‘I’ve never come that quickly before. What the hell?’
Bane kept his hand around the softening cock. His other moved up to rub comforting circles on his pet’s trembling abdomen, not caring when his fingers smeared cooling cum into flesh. His eyes took on a thoughtful expression, much like after he’d been spat on, only not as clouded by anger.
Not that his pet was looking. The poor boy was too busy trying to regulate his breathing, eyes closed in concentration.
Once John had calmed down enough he wearily opened his eyes and looked at the man claiming to own him. A slight rising of his head and he could see the hands he felt tormenting his body. “Now what?” he asked dejectedly. If the man wasn’t going to kill him then he was back to square one of trying to win him over enough to lower his guard. Despite the fact that this muscle-bound man with the frightening hissing mask didn’t look like he would lower his guard for anyone much less someone he thought of as a pet.
Two fingers rubbed over his stomach collecting his cum while the other tightened painfully on his limp dick. The sudden flair of pain on sensitive parts had him gasping. Bane took this opportunity to shove his cum-coated fingers in the bird’s mouth. “Now you will lick my fingers clean until we have cleared up the mess you’ve made.”
He pulled his fingers from his pet’s mouth once he was sure the boy had done as instructed. His fingers returned to his pet’s stomach and wiped up more cum. A squeeze and mouth opened up again to accept and clean. He was pleased to notice that after the second time his pet didn’t need any coercing to lick his fingers clean. By the fourth time his tongue was out and ready to lick before Bane even had his hand close to his mouth.
A few more rounds and the tethered bird was as clean as he was going to be without actual soap and water. “I was going to give you another present today, pet. A lovely set of cuffs, two sets actually, to match your collar. But I’m afraid that after what happened with your collar,” he paused to glare at his semi-defiant little bird, “they’ll have to wait.”
Bane removed himself from the bed. From where he was lying Blake had an excellent view of the man’s hard-on trying to force its way through his pants. John swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Oh damn,” he drawled with the barest of trembling, “I was oh so hoping to get them now so I could be all tied up for your pleasure. Wait. I already am. Never mind.” And just what had happened to his plan to woo this beast of a man? There were some days that Blake just hated his mouth.
In response Bane opened the fly of his pants (look, ma, no underroos! Shut UP brain!) and jerked off over him. He lasted much longer than Blake had and even had the audacity to come all over his just cleaned stomach. His eyes never left his as he spent himself on his bird. Putting his cock away he bent over and made Blake clean himself up once more.
‘Well, fuck. Might as well give it up,’ he thought. The idea of pseudo submitting to a man as strong and only slightly crazy like Bane to try and survive wasn’t too bad. It could be a lot worse. Like the Joker worse. John kept repeating this hardly comforting thought as he sucked Bane’s come off the man’s fingers. He was frightened out of his mind to find he didn’t mind the taste.
Maybe he could convince him not to use the cuffs? It would be easier to escape if he was tied up with the bed sheet, yeah? He nipped at the fingers as they withdrew for the last time. “Well if these cuffs of yours are going to be anywhere near as rash-inducing as the collar I wouldn’t keep ‘em on anyways.” For added effect he tilted his head back to expose his throat and in turn the puffy redness encircling it.
“Don’t worry, my Robin.” Bane kept his voice pitched low as he reached out a hand, the same one he fed his cum to him, and rubbed soothingly at the irritated skin. “I may have a way to fix that mistake. First things first.” He reached over Blake and gathered his wrists, bed sheets and all, and pulled him up into a sitting position. Blake whimpered softly as tensed, stretched out muscles voiced their displeasure long his nerves. “Shh, little bird, shh.” Bane attempted to comfort his pet as he rubbed his hands up and down John’s arms, making sure to briefly massage shoulders. “Shh. I will think of something for your presents, not to worry. I promise you. Instead I have another gift. I had hoped to give it to you much earlier. The traitor in our midst delayed everything for quite some time.”
Withou even giving him a warning, Bane bent down and scooped his bird into his arms. The squawk of surprise that Blake made did nothing to dissuade Bane from referring to him as a bird. He carried him across the room to an opening in the far corner. Just inside was a door on the left.
“Open the door, my pet.”
John eyed him suspiciously. “Why? What’s behind it?” He gathered as much of the bed sheet as he could to cover himself. Just in case the man’s subordinates were on the other side.
The man sighed, indulgently. “Nothing deadly, my Robin. Only the very thing you’ve been begging me for the past weeks before you…you fell ill.” An eye twitch gave away the fact that Bane didn’t like his own wording of what his pet was like before coming to in the cell. “The men were finally able to get it finished last night.”
Reluctantly his bird reached for the handle, barely paying attention to the fact that the bed sheet was slowly loosening its hold around his wrists. “I’ve been buggin’ you about this for how long? Why can’t I remember any of it?” He turned the knob and gently pushed the door open.
It was impossible for him to tell if what Bane was telling him was true or not. Many a foster parent and then the father of St. Swithin’s had exclaimed and scolded him over what an impressive imagination he possessed. So that paired with Bane’s words caused images to jump around wildly in his mind. Bane telling him he was “ill” along with calling him by his given name that he’d stop going by long before leaving the boys’ home fueled the idea of him really being Bane’s.
The man cradling him sighed. “It is because of the drugs. I spoke,” here the words were enunciated to hint at much pain and suffering occurred while the talking took place, “with the man supplying them and found that he had tempered with them. They were to be mere antibiotics for an infection you’d received after being injured sparring with Barsad. They made you…unpleasant.”
Bane shouldered his way into the room black as pitch. Both could feel the temperature difference as soon as they entered. The room had to be at least ten degrees warmer than the bedroom. Hands scrabbled desperately for a hold when Bane dipped one shoulder to rest against the wall.
“Close your eyes, my little bird. They are not ready yet for the change.”
Not a single protest was given as he followed Bane’s command. He knew from experience that he was talking about the sharp pain associated with going from a darkened room to turning on the lights. Since he didn’t know how long he’d been in a barely lit cell, then carried through a hallway with sparse lighting, and finally a bedroom with half the lights off if it was fully lit it would hurt his eyes like a bitch.
For added measure he tucked his head into Bane’s shoulder right against his neck. Being so close made it impossible to miss the fluttering of Bane’s heartbeat. He certainly didn’t miss the surprised inhale.
Bane jerking his body up both flipped the light switch and bounced his bird’s head away from his neck. Even with his eyes closed he still flinched from the brightness stabbing through. He gave himself a few seconds to get used to the light before opening them. He blinked a couple times to help adjust. Then he blinked a couple more once he took in his surroundings.
The floor was covered with large white hexagon tiles. Even the walls had the same pattern only smaller. Granted the walls looked like they were the last to be done since they were all either half-way or mostly finished leaving exposed stone and grouting everywhere close to the ceiling. On the right of the door was a sink that looked like it had been stolen from a home that’d been demolished. Its base was covered in hairline cracks and the exposed piping dripped water from multiple rust-eaten cracks. The toilet a good ten feet across from it wasn’t fairing any better. Thankfully it didn’t smell like it would shatter anytime soon. In between the two was a small 2 door cabinet about waist high if Blake’d been standing. Smack dab in the center of the room was a small wooden stool polished so smooth it reflected the overhead track lighting. Underneath it was a drain the same diameter of the stool.
It was what lay in the middle of the room against the left wall that nearly had John salivating. The entire morning he’d been washing himself he’d imagined how good it would feel to bath in an actual bathtub and right there in front of him was an antique cast iron tub, all four clawed feet holding steady and the end opposite the faucet raised in a perfect arch for leaning back and relaxing on. Unlike the sink and toilet it had no cracks, didn’t appear to want to fall apart at the touch, and its piping was shiny new. Between it and the wall was another small cabinet, 1 door this time, with clean towels folded on top.
“I’ve…I’ve been asking you for a bathroom?” he asked, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. Granted this was a thousand, scratch that, a million times better than what he had in the cell but this extravagance was a little much for a man like Bane to spend on a pet. Unless he saw him as more than that?
“Yes.” Bane walked in and placed his stunned bird on the stool. “Before you were injured then drugged you informed me, every day I might add pet, that you were tired of having a “hobo bath in a bathroom the size of a breadbox.” My suggestion of bathing in the waters in the exposed piping like the other men was less than appreciated.” As he talked he walked over to the 2 door cabinet pulling out soap, a washrag, and a small basin which he filled with water from the sink. On the way back to his pet, his pet who was untangling the bed sheet from his wrists and making no attempt to flee he was proud to note, he twisted the knobs on the tub and stopped the drain. He selected a few oils balanced on the lip of the tub and added them to the steaming water. His bird’s skin would shine beautifully in the underground’s lighting.
Back in front of his boy he knelt on the cold tile placing his collection of bathing tools on the floor between his knees. Both the bar of soap and washrag went into the small basin and lathered up generously. He kept his breathing slow, posture relaxed when he asked, “May I bathe you now, my Robin?”