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The kid is gorgeous, that’s for sure. Tan skin, strong jaw, gorgeous blue eyes, long, dark lashes. Jason’s not used to seeing someone like him at Roman’s table. He’s not used to being the second prettiest, either.
“So you’re the Tevis boy,” Roman says, his voice all but a purr. He nods at Leon, who fills the kid’s glass with a deep, red wine.
“And you’re the Black Mask,” the kid replies. Picking up the wine glass between two slender fingers, he raises it in an imitation of a toast. His bright blue eyes are gleaming. “Charmed.”
Roman leans back in his chair, fingers threaded together. His head is cocked to the left and his mouth is pressed into a thin smirk. His eyes gleam with hunger and excitement, a predator sizing up its prey. No doubt thinking about beating the kid to ground beef, fucking him into black satin sheets, carving his name into his chest.
And yeah. Maybe Jason should be grossed out by the fucked-up shit daddy dearest does with all his little black-haired Prettyboys. But whatever—it’s not like they last long enough for Jason to think of them as anything more than a joke. They’ve got the integrity and durability of an off-brand condom.
This kid has all the makings of Prettyboy #12. Probably thinks he’s tough, definitely thinks he’s hot shit. Look at him sitting there, wine glass resting between his index and middle finger, one slender leg crossed over the other. His toned, golden chest peeks out between the open buttons of his shirt. Definitely the kind of canvas Roman would want to paint. Jason gives it two, three days before he’s got Roman’s initials branded above his heart.
“Do tell, son, ” Roman says slowly, over-enunciating each word. “What can I do for you and your famiglia?”
Jason bites back a snort. Thank fuck for masks to hide his eyeroll. As if Roman is actually interested in a poor famiglia from the ‘Haven. These bastards are the kind of that take the name too literally, eating fucking home-cooked meals in a fucking bungalow. Roaches under Roman’s boot.
“My pops would like to strike a deal with you,” Prettyboy #12 says. God, his nerve is something. “Word says you’re expanding your territory and could use some fresh blood—namely, me.”
Whore, Jason thinks.
“Is that so? And what makes you special?”
Prettyboy shrugs and takes another sip of wine. Jesus Christ, he’s batting his eyelashes. “Somethin’ tells me you could use someone like me.”
“I’ve already got an enforcer,” Roman replies. He doesn’t look at Jason as he speaks, but Jason straightens all the same.
Yeah, that’s right. Roman’s already got a right-hand man. Ain’t no way some pretty jackass could ever take Jason’s place, not after everything he’s gone through forging himself into the best of the best. This may be Roman’s turf, but it’s Jason’s home. Prettyboy here is nothing more than furniture. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Prettyboy’s eyes flicker to Jason. “I know,” he says. “But you see, I’m more than just a gun for hire.”
Fucker.
Roman cocks an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“I know you, Roman. You need someone like me,” Prettyboy says, tapping his forefinger against the table. “Someone smart. Who gets to know his enemy and cuts them out from the inside. Someone who doesn’t barge in guns blazing.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Prettyboy’s eyes gleam a perfect shade of blue. “If you wanted me gone, you’d have Jason here—that’s your name, right? Jason?—anway, you’d have Jason here put a fat bullet in my skull. Or at least, you’d try.”
“Presumptuous,” Roman hums, taking a sip of wine.
Prettyboy shrugs. “I’m good at what I do.”
“Oh?” Roman leans over the table, eyes flitting up and down Prettyboy’s body. Yeah, he’s hooked. No doubt imagining himself stripping the kid’s clothes off and using him like a fuckdoll. Or pin cushion. Or both. Probably both. “And what is it that you do?”
“Everything.” Prettyboy leans back in his chair and crosses one leg over the other as a sweet, strangely innocent smile spreads over his face. He’s wearing tight slacks that hug the muscles of his thighs, shiny shoes that are scuffed around the toe and heel. “I’m just a people pleaser.”
“Mmm. I see.”
“So are we going to talk business?”
“And why would I want to do that?”
“I already told you,” replies Prettyboy.
“I know,” Roman says, smirking. “I want to hear it again.”
Just then, something passes behind Prettyboy’s eyes. It’s an almost imperceptible thing, and it disappears quickly, but not quick enough, not before Jason catches it. Too smug to be wisdom; too patient to be impatience. What’s the word? Jason is so close to finding it, can feel it at the edge of his mind, but can’t quite close in.
Something feels…off.
“If you wanted me gone,” Prettyboy says, smiling, “I would be gone. But here I am. Ergo, you must want me.”
“Roman,” Jason begins.
Roman waves his hand, cutting him off. Anger flares in Jason’s chest, makes his fingers twitch at his sides. It’s like he’s little better than a shadow. “I must admit, Richard, your logic is sound. You either know me well, or not at all.”
“I know you just enough to want to know you more,” Prettyboy says. He takes another sip of wine, examines the way the liquid lights up scarlet under the chandelier. “Perhaps a show of strength would convince you? A couple rounds between me and your best guy?”
Jason smirks beneath his mask, resisting the urge to snort. He always enjoys it when the Prettyboys think they’re good enough to take him on, has so much fun playing with them before Roman swoops in for the kill. God. It would feel so good pounding this bastard into the marble floors, until his fat mouth is too full of blood to spit out his name. Say “Jason” now, you fucking whore.
“Jason,” Roman says, and Jason’s hand twitches for his gun.
C’mon. Roman. Let me at him.
“Our guest could use some more wine. Refill his glass.”
What the fuck? Jason glares at Prettyboy, aching to wipe that stupid smirk off his dick-sucking lips. “I’m not a waiter.”
“Now.”
Jaw twitching, Jason snatches the wine bottle from Leon and marches over to the other side of the table. Up close he sees that the skin on Prettyboy’s forearms are marked with a scattering of silver scars that only serve to make him more attractive. Perfectly placed thin lines, nothing like the ugly red ropes that criss-cross Jason’s body. Fuck, his skin looks fucking soft.
Jason holds the mouth of the bottle too high and doesn’t bother with grace. Droplets fly everywhere, onto the table, onto Prettyboy, whose hair smells like honey and citrus.
“Thank you, Jason,” Prettyboy says.
Fuck you, Jason thinks, shoving the bottle back into Leon’s hands. Fuck both of you.
“There’s no need to convince me of anything,” Roman purrs. He’s wearing that predatory look again, eyes so full of want it’s disgusting. “If you are as good as you say you are, I’m sure we can find some use for you. Perhaps you would like to strike a deal of some kind?”
“A business deal?” Prettyboy asks.
“Of sorts,” Roman mutters, raising his glass to his lips.
There’s that look again. It swims behind Prettyboy’s eyes, a fish in a bowl. Not satisfaction, not excitement—Jason knows this word, he can feel it, can tell he’s almost there—
Cunning, he realizes at last. The word he is looking for is cunning.
He stares at Prettyboy, at his perfectly-unbuttoned collar, at his messy, boyish haircut, at the way he purses his lips just so the light catches in the gloss.
Motherfucker. Prettyboy’s not a prettyboy. He’s a trap.
***
It’s not hard finding Prettyboy once Roman’s done talking to him. People write him off because he’s six-foot one and two hundred pounds of muscle, but Jason isn’t just another one of Roman’s grunts. He’s smart as fuck, smarter even than daddy dearest could ever imagine, and he’s got a keen eye. If he wanted to tear Roman apart piece by piece, he wouldn’t come at him with weapons. He’d arm himself with a flash drive and go straight for all the juicy shit. Then he’d kill him. Slowly.
And Jason has to admit: Prettyboy is smart too. Too bad he’s not smart enough.
He cocks his gun and aims it at Prettyboy’s pretty skull. “You think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” he asks coolly.
Prettyboy jumps away from Roman’s laptop, and oh man is the look on his face fucking delightful, even if it only lasts for a second. He’s able to twist it back into a blandly innocent look, but there’s no use pretending. They both know he’s fucked.
Prettyboy’s eyes flicker to the gun. “I got lost,” he tries.
“Uh huh.” Jason takes a step closer, scanning Prettyboy for weapons and finding none. Confident motherfucker. This is gonna be fun. “Tell me, Richard—that’s your name, right? Richard?”
“Most people call me Dick,” says Prettyboy. Dick. Whatever.
“Then tell me, Dick, ” Jason says, smirking, “how does the Black Mask’s laptop help you find your way?”
“Ever heard of Google Maps?”
Jason snorts and takes another step closer to Dick. The gun fits perfectly in his grip, patient metal waiting for a signal. “I’ve got to admit, it was a good act,” he says, eyeing the parted collar of Dick’s shirt, the way his Adam’s apple bobs slightly as he swallows. Without meaning to Jason imagines himself sinking his teeth into it, tasting honey and citrus and blood. “You play a convincing whore. Almost had me fooled.”
Dick’s pretty mouth pulls to one side. “Guess I need to try harder,” he says flatly.
“You’re not gonna try anything,” Jason sneers. He’s right in front of Dick now, so close he can almost see the webbing of his blue irises. The barrel of the gun is inches from Dick’s forehead. “Well. Try all you want. I’m not the one who cleans brains off the wall.”
“Not even if your dad asks you to?”
Jason clenches his jaw. Fucker, he thinks. “Roman’s not my dad.”
“I know all about you, Jason Todd,” Dick replies coolly. He raises his chin to meet Jason’s gaze, showing off deep blue eyes full of that awful cunning that makes Jason want to kiss—no, punch. Fuck. God damn whore. “Everyone who knows anything knows that Roman’s got a little boy who doesn’t quite live up to daddy’s expectations.”
“Shut up.”
“I feel bad for you. I do.”
“Shut. Up.”
Dick pulls his lips tight and shakes his head. “Look at you,” he mutters. “Always fighting for approval you’re never going to get. Is that why you wear the mask? To convince yourself you’re like him?”
That’s it.
Jason rips his mask off his face and throws it aside. He grabs Dick by the collar and shoves him against the back wall of the office, jamming his gun under his chin. “You think you’re hot shit? ” he hisses, pushing the muzzle deep as it will go into the muscle of Dick’s neck, until Dick fights back, just barely, just enough to betray that he’s in pain. “You don’t know anything. You’re just another fucking pest, a desperate nobody clinging to your stupid idea of a famiglia. But you know what?” Jason asks, body flooded with heat. “This is the real world, babydoll. Ain’t no fucking family loyalty.”
“You’re right,” Dick forces out. Each word is cut in half by a shaky breath. God does it feel good to watch him squirm. It’s almost fucking erotic. “Roman’s not your dad. He’ll never love you.”
With a growl, Jason pushes Dick harder against the wall, lifting him until his forearms scream, until Dick’s toes are merely grazing the floor. “Talk all you want,” he snarls, holding so tight to Dick’s collar that his bruised knuckles begin to tremble. Fuck you. “When we’re done with you, we’re coming after your daddy. And trust me. You better hope you’re dead by then.”
Dick doesn’t beg. Or whimper. He remains limp as a ragdoll, wearing a lopsided expression that almost looks like a smile. “You know, you’re pretty hot for a psycho,” he says.
Jason stares, breathing hard. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m trying harder.”
“Don’t move.”
Dick rolls his body against Jason’s, not blinking when his chest meets the muzzle of the gun. Jesus Christ, it’s like he doesn’t even care if Jason puts a bullet in his heart. “Now’s your chance, Jay,” he purrs. “You get to prove that you’re like him.”
“I said, don’t move.”
“Or what?” Dick’s smile is so god damn smackable Jason’s hands begin to twitch. “Don’t you want to teach me a lesson? Show me what happens when I fuck with your family?”
Fucking bitch. Jason’s lips curl into a sneer as he raises the gun to the center of Dick’s face. “I’m flattered,” he laughs, making a show of eyeing Dick’s body. “But unfortunately for you, Babydoll, I don’t fuck dead men.”
“Too bad.” Dick’s eyes glint with something dangerous. He keeps his eyes locked on Jason’s as his lips part, slowly, and his tongue darts out between them, and holy shit, he’s licking a stripe up the barrel of the gun. The metal shines with his saliva. A thin string of spit connects the muzzle to his tongue, arcing down, down, before it finally snaps. “Go on then, Junior. Pull the trigger.”
Jason’s jaw tightens but he doesn’t move. Something hot is boiling inside his chest, has him so tense his body is aching. His muscles are trembling. Every instinct is begging him to throw his fists into the wall, to taste blood, to scream.
Dick smirks. “Coward,” he says.
Motherfucker.
With a snarl Jason flips Dick around and throws him against the desk hard, savoring the sound of his skull hitting the mahogany. Dick gasps loudly, pretty lips parting. Jason wants to capture them between his lips and bite down until the flesh pops and Dick’s pretty blood fills his mouth. Bet he’d whine and simper like a bitch. God, yes—all the ugly sounds leaving his pretty little lungs.
Twisting his fingers in Dick’s hair, Jason slams his head against the desk again. He imagines himself driving his fist into that face, that perfect face, again and again until he’s gone, until there’s nothing left. “If it’s pain you want,” he snorts, pushing the muzzle of the gun into the flesh of Dick’s thigh, “then I’d be happy to help you, Babydoll.”
Dick meets his eyes and grins wildly. “Punish me,” he says, and fuck the way he says it sends a wildfire straight to Jason’s cock. Christ. All that shit with the Prettyboys must have fucked up the wiring in his brain, left hate and want knotted together. Blame Roman. Blame the Prettyboys. Blame Dick’s stupid full mouth, his stupid blue eyes, his stupidly perfect ass.
Actually? Fuck it. Fuck it.
Jason slams the gun down on the desk and flips Dick onto his stomach, pinning him down with fist around the scruff of his neck. “Fine,” he growls into Dick’s ear. Heart-pounding, he runs his free hand down Dick’s spine, feeling the hard ridges rising between waves of muscle, grabbing a handful of that gorgeous ass. Dick’s pulse is quickening; Jason can feel the arteries in his neck fight against the force of his hand. “If you want it so bad, then you can have it.”
Dick makes a sound that might be a laugh.
“Shut up.” Jason wrenches his head to one side and mouths at his jaw, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin beneath. He licks a slow stripe up Dick’s neck, chuckling as he feels a heartbeat on his tongue. Fuck yeah. Tastes like sweat.
“Psycho,” Dick forces out, wriggling as he fights both their weights to undo the button of his pants. “Think this’ll make Daddy love you?”
Anger has Jason’s cheeks flushing. Jackass. “I should carve you up,” he mutters, trapping Dick’s earlobe between his teeth. He bites down on the soft flesh, smirks when Dick yelps. Whore. “You’d look real pretty with my name on your face.”
“Mmm. Heard he does that too—fuck!” He grunts as Jason strikes, fast and hard, shoving his head against the desk hard enough for the legs to scrape over the tile. The sound of his pain has Jason shivering.
He yanks down Dick’s pants, which feels almost excessive since the fabric slides down without resistance. Jason pauses to admire his plump ass—runs his hands down the soft skin—then kicks Dick’s legs apart and pins him in place with his hips. That small amount of pressure almost makes him short-circuit. God, he’s so fucking hard.
Dick must feel it too because he thrusts his hips backward, grinding against Jason’s cock. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck me.”
The sound ricochets through his gut, sends heat pulsing through cock. Jason grabs Dick’s ass, digs his fingers into the soft, blushing flesh. Oh, how he wants to mark Dick up. Leave splashes of blue all over.
“C’mon, Junior,” Dick says. Silvery and self-satisfied. He wiggles his ass, looks over his shoulder to give Jason a teasing look. “Or are you gonna chicken out again?”
Yeah, right.
Jason strikes him. Hard. Dick goes limp, cheek blossoming scarlet as his head lolls forward. Jason doesn’t let it fall far; he wraps his hand around Dick’s smooth throat and squeezes until Dick is sputtering, mouth gaping like a fish.
“Fucking masochist,” he growls, squeezing harder. He ducks his head to press a sloppy kiss to Dick’s mouth. Swallows his gasps. Tests his teeth against his bottom lip. With his free hand he pops open the button of his pants, tugs out his cock. The sudden influx of cool air around the throbbing heat almost makes him shudder. “And you think I’m a psycho.”
“Good job…pleading your case,” Dick groans. His lips are swollen and wet with spit. God, he’s disgustingly gorgeous.
Slowly, Jason unwraps his fingers from Dick’s throat, rubs the raw, red marks they leave behind. Dick inhales sharply and his muscles go slack. He looks even prettier like this, all limp and flushed with his pupils dark and wide as the night sky.
Jason considers fucking him raw, making him scream and bleed. It would be fun to shatter him. Wipe that pretty smile off his face. Fifty bucks says he bruises pretty.
But instead, he pushes two fingers against Dick’s lips. “Suck,” he orders, and then Dick’s slick, wet tongue is circling the pads of his fingers. He can’t see Dick’s face from this angle, but from the shape of his lips and the purr in his chest Jason knows he is smirking. The thought is enough to make his stomach twist.
Saliva drips from Dick’s mouth as Jason withdraws his fingers. Dipping his hand between Dick’s legs, he runs his fingers over his sensitive rim. “You like that, Babydoll?” he murmurs, continuing the motion. Dick twitches at the touch, back arching as a strangled noise falls from his mouth. “Whore.”
“Freak,” Dick gasps out. Then: “Right there. Yeah. Yeah.”
The press of Jason’s forefinger into Dick’s hole elicits a deep groan. Fuck, he’s tight. It only takes a knuckle for Dick to start to whine, hand gripping the edge of the desk until his knuckles are paper-white. The sight of him makes Jason smirk. Not so tough now, huh?
One hand works him open slowly, the other palms his waist, hips, ass. Spreading his cheeks, giving himself better access. His ass is better than Jason’s. Big and smooth and round like a girl’s.
Something hot shoots through his veins and suddenly Jason is biting him, sinking his teeth into the swell of his ass, until he knows the imprint will last for days. Dick yelps and writhes but Jason keeps going, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise as he dips his head lower and bites him again.
“Fuck!” Dick shouts, hands flying out. He scrabbles against the desk, fingers grazing Jason’s hair, but he’s face-down and at this angle it’s useless. “Warn a guy first!”
Jason ignores him as he continues to mark up Dick’s backside, sliding a second finger into his quivering ass. He doesn’t bother being all polite about it; he fingers him roughly, curling his fingers and smirking as Dick tenses and gasps and swears. And yeah. It’s good for him too. Jason bites down on Dick’s hip and imagines his teeth carving him open, leaving crescent scars over that perfect skin. Ruining him.
The image makes his cock throb. God, yes. If he doesn’t fuck this guy soon he’s gonna explode.
“Does your daddy know what a slut you are?” Jason says, removing his fingers to spit on Dick’s red, twitching hole. He is rock hard, painfully hard, so full of adrenaline he has to fight to keep himself from punching Dick’s pretty face. “How you whore yourself out when you fail?”
Dick snorts. “Projecting, much?”
“Remind me to fuck your mouth next time.” Jason lines his cock up and pushes into Dick, burying himself in a single thrust. Dick cries at the unexpected intrusion, jerking his legs holding tight to the edge of the desk. It’s hard not to fuck him into the wood, but Jason forces himself to start slow, to relish the tight, fluttering heat around his cock.
“Mmm.” Dick sighs loudly, craning his neck to look back at Jason. “Are you going to fuck me or not, Junior?”
Growling, Jason grabs Dick’s hair and wrenches his head back, using the leverage to thrust into him, hard. “Is this what you want?” he hisses, fucking him deeply. The room fills with the sound of skin against skin and holy shit does Dick’s ass look good rippling like that.
A particularly deep thrust punches the air from Dick’s lungs. “Guh—fuck,’ he moans. “That’s it. Yeah, yeah. Like that. Just like that. Just like daddy would.”
The mention of Roman is like molten metal in Jason’s veins. He twists his fingers in Dick’s hair and yanks until he can see his Adam’s apple bobbing between the smooth skin of his throat. The urge to bite has his jaw twitching and mouth salivating. An bestial sound rumbles in his chest as he gives into desire, biting mindlessly at Dick’s neck, collarbone, jaw. He slows his pace, focusing his attention on marking Dick up, overcome by the mantra of mine mine mine. “Bitch,” he growls, sucking a mark into his neck.
“God, yes.” Dick curses beneath his breath, ass jerking back against Jason’s cock. His lips are spit-wet, glistening and swollen. “Think—shit. Think your little love bites’ll make him proud?”
Jason yanks his hair back again, kisses and bites those inviting lips. He thrusts as deep as he can, relishing the way it draws out a guttural moan from Dick, the way it makes Dick’s muscles clench around his cock. Somehow Jason’s able to draw his thoughts away from the tight, hot heat long enough to say, “Fuck Roman.”
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck Roman.” A moan slips out Dick’s throat as his fingers curl around the edge of the desk. “You’ll never be like him.”
“Yeah?”
“‘Cause if I tell you ‘no’ you’d stop.”
Despite his sex-dizzed brain Jason’s stomach clenches. He hates that Dick is right. “You don’t shut up, do you?”
“Not—ah—not really,” Dick grunts. A deep thrust has him jerking, elbow knocking against the handle of the gun.
“We’ll have to fix that.” Jason stands and smacks Dick’s ass before pulling out and flipping Dick on his back. “Fuck, Richard. Look at you,” he mutters, eyeing his red, twitching cock, the pearly bead of precome at the top. “It takes a real slut to get turned on by pain.”
“Takes a real psycho to get turned on by dishing it out.”
“Yeah.” Jason thrusts roughly back into him, grabbing him lightly by the throat before tightening his grip once Dick begins to moan. “Open up, babydoll.”
“Wha—” Dick’s words turn into wet, stuttering noises as Jason shoves the muzzle of the gun into his mouth. It’s only a moment before spit is dripping out the corners of his lips, staining the wine-red collar of his shirt. The sight of him choking on metal makes Jason’s pace quicken and his cock throb. Slut.
“Not so mouthy now, huh?” he hisses, rolling his hips into Dick. “Suck it—just like that—shit.”
Dick moans around the metal of the gun and heat winds tightly in Jason’s gut, urging him faster, harder. He digs his fingers into the crevasses of Dick’s neck, relishes the way it brings tears to Dick’s eyes.
“Fucking pest,” he growls, barely able to see anything but Dick’s mouth around the gun, Dick’s hard-as-sin cock bouncing with each trust. His mind is dissolving into savagery. Fuck. Hurt. Bite. Mine. Mine. Mine.
In front of him Dick is a pathetic mess, eyes rolling in his head. He tries to babble around the intrusion but all that comes out are wet, meaty sounds. Fucking Prettyboys. They’re even prettier when they’re sex-ruined.
“Fucking cum,” Jason growls, burying himself deep. Again. Again. Again. “Cum on my cock with my gun in your mouth.”
He fucks Dick relentlessly, selfishly, not caring if anyone can hear his rough grunts, Dick’s wanton moans and whines, the scrape of the desk legs across the tile floor. He fucks Dick until Dick fucking sobs around the gun and arches toward the ceiling, cock spilling pearlescent come over his exposed stomach.
With one last, brutal thrust, Jason pushes inside deep as he can go. His vision goes white and he comes hard, gritting his teeth and letting out a long, guttural groan. His hips stutter as he releases his grip around Dick’s neck, rubbing his fingers into the reddened skin. Catching his breath, he looks down at Dick, surveying his heavy-lidded eyes, the slow blink of those long, dark lashes. Motherfucker. Even as he drools around the gun, it’s clear that he’s smirking.
“Christ, Junior,” Dick breathes, when Jason removes the muzzle from his mouth. He makes a show of licking his lips. “I haven’t come that hard in ages.”
Jason pulls out of Dick slowly. God, what a mess. Dick is strewn across the desk, flushed and panting, pupils blown wide. Depraved is the word Jason is looking for. Leaking and erotic and goddamn sinful.
Actually? Fuck it. Fuck it.
It’s about time Jason had a prettyboy of his own.