Work Text:
There’s a tape waiting for Jason when he gets home from class.
Sighing with resignation he yanks it out of the narrow crevice these cheap-ass apartments call a mailbox and tucks it under his armpit before locking the box again. As if that flimsy lock will really keep his druggie neighbor from shimmying it open and searching his letters for cash again. He’s lucky the tape was untouched. The package is still in pristine condition; far too pristine for what is lurking inside.
With mixed emotions Jason trudges his way up the four flights of stairs leading to his rundown apartment. The arrival of the tape means he’s going to get a fat paycheck tonight, and god knows he needs the money. It also means that this evening is going to be spent studying said tape instead of studying for his upcoming practice exam as he had planned. If it weren’t for the tapes and the man who sends them though Jason never would have had a chance in hell to enroll in his current GED program. He’d still be working the corners of Crime Alley every night just to make ends meet, never knowing if the next customer was going to actually pay him or try to shiv him.
Tapes it is.
Tossing his bookbag down on the desk, he squeezes past it through the narrow hallway into his combination bedroom/living room. Plopping down on the end of the squeaky twin-sized bed he tears open the package he received. Along with the tape there is a single item - a business card for the Gotham Luxury Suites Hotel - with a room number and time scribbled on the back. Jason’s only going to have an hour or two to memorize what’s on the tape. Luckily for him he has a good memory. The fact that his “master” doesn’t mind a bit of improv as long as he keeps in-character helps too.
He leans forward to turn on the TV and slides the tape into his worn out VCR. It’s already rewound to the beginning. He presses play.
The scene that greets him is familiar. The camera is angled down, zooming in through a window across the street where the occupant habitually seems to forget to close his curtains. Half-unpacked boxes (despite the fact that, based on the time frame over which Jason has received these videos, the occupant has been living in the apartment for several months at least), dirty laundry, and empty cereal bowls fill up the room, making Jason cringe. Even though he grew up on the streets, or maybe because of it, Jason prefers to keep his living space tidy. He isn’t being paid to look at the mess though.
About a minute into the tape a man enters the room. The man isn’t Jason Todd, but from this distance you couldn’t tell. Especially with the way that Jason has been “encouraged” to keep his hair recently. A redhead follows not-Jason into the room (It’s always a redhead. This guy clearly has a type), and it isn’t long until not-Jason is pushing him down onto the bed and straddling him. Jason leans closer to the TV. Time to study.
“Grayson!”
Jason moans as the massive cock hits his prostate dead-on. There are some perks to this job besides the great pay.
“You love that, don’t you Grayson?” The man below him growls out. “Love riding my cock like a little slut?”
It takes a moment before Jason can catch his breath enough to answer, what with the way his hips are rolling back uncontrollably from his perch atop the other man. Grayson had decided to go reverse cowboy style for his latest encounter. Compared to some of the other positions Jason has had to endure he doesn’t mind it. Jason’s doppelganger is extremely flexible, a skill he apparently likes to show off to his partners. Jason keeps a daily stretching routine now after a previous encounter where he’d pulled a muscle trying to get one leg over Slade Wilson’s shoulder while keeping his other foot on the ground, basically fucking in a fucking vertical split. Yes, Jason’s still annoyed about that one, if not a bit impressed that the position was seemingly effortless for this ‘Grayson’. Their current position is easy in comparison, and almost feels too good, giving Jason near full control. Lost in pleasure as his body demands more of that sweet pressure against his prostate he forgets for a moment that he’s working.
A rough hand slaps his ass to remind him.
“Answer me, slut.”
Jason moans again as the force of the blow makes his body tighten further around the cock inside him. The redhead in the video had groped at Grayson’s ass, sure (who wouldn’t try to grab that when presented with the opportunity?), but he had never slapped it. Sometimes Slade liked to go off the books despite his own rules regarding Jason’s strict adherence to the tapes.
“Y-yes, master!” he cries out when he finally can. The tapes have no audio, so Jason can’t be sure, but he’s pretty sure that little catch-phrase is a Slade Wilson-original addition as well. He’s not paid to question his customers’ kinks though. Or customer, singular, since Slade had given him a hearty bonus to keep himself exclusive. It’s been months since Jason has seen anyone else.
The security, exclusivity, high-pay rate, it’s all enough for Jason to ignore any underlying meaning behind the tapes he receives. For all he knows this Grayson character is an exhibitionist who explicitly consented to Slade Wilson filming him.
Unlikely, but if he doesn’t ask then he has plausible deniability if anything ever goes down.
“Good boy,” Slade purrs below him, gripping onto Jason’s hips suddenly, halting his motions and taking control. He’s one of few men who could control Jason like this. His toned muscled body rolls up into Jason as he forcibly pulls him down onto his cock.
“Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” He growls out, punctuating each word with a thrust that has Jason practically drooling above him as he desperately tries to gain any semblance of control. He feels like a ragdoll held up in Slade’s strong grasp.
“Y-you, m-master,” he moans out. “I’m y-yours.”
His hips try to thrust back but he’s completely at Slade’s mercy now. All thoughts of the tape and the script are drowned out from his mind as he whines in his captor’s hold, desperate for release.
“Please master, please.” he whines. “I want to come. Master, please!”
“You cry so pretty, little bird.” Slade’s voice sends shivers through Jason’s body. A large hand leaves his hip to wrap around his face, two digits slipping into Jason’s mouth and stroking his tongue. Jason doesn’t remember if this was in the video but he doesn’t care, just whines and drools around the fingers as he feels his body thrumming with tension and a desire for release. “Go on then Grayson. Come for me.”
Jason longs to reach a hand out to wrap around his dripping cock, but this he does remember from the video. Grayson came untouched, orgasm milked from him just by riding his partner’s dick. Slade will expect the same.
It’s no problem though. Jason is desperately close, and with one more firm smack on his ass Slade’s other hand leaves his hip and gives him free reign again. His hips move uncontrolled, grinding back against Slade’s large cock with short thrusts that tug at his rim and slam directly into his prostate. There is nothing but warm pressure in his gut and the desire for more. He’s there, so close, the pressure is building, his body moving of its own accord seeking more, desperate. One, two more long slow thrusts and then he’s found it. Slade’s cock drags across his prostate again as his fingers gag him and suddenly Jason is overflowing, hot white streaks spurting out of him and coating his belly and chest.
“Thank you, Master,” he whimpers out the instant he comes back to himself. It’s expected.
Slade growls again and Jason suddenly finds himself flipped, pushed face down into the hotel mattress with Slade Wilson mounting him from behind. He repeats “Yes, Master. Please. More.” as his client fucks him wildly, chasing his own release. This part is a Slade-original addition as well. In the tape Grayson had dismounted after he came and finished the redhead off with a hand job as the two of them kissed slowly. It is a rare day that Slade is in the mood for such intimate moments though, so the change is not very unexpected. It’s been a few weeks since they’ve met (Jason isn’t sure what Slade Wilson does, only knows that his job requires frequent long travel, and that it pays very well apparently), so Jason had suspected his client would be in the mood for something fast and hot, not slow and romantic.
As Slade keeps fucking him rapidly Jason feels too sensitive, body far too overstimulated, but he just bares it while moaning out his “master’s” praises. It eggs the older man on until finally, blissfully, he is spilling into Jason’s hole, leaning down and biting a mark into Jason’s shoulder as he does so. The previous marks had just started to fade. He collapses, weight heavy on Jason’s back for a moment before he’s rolled over and pulled back into Slade’s embrace.
They lay spooning on the bed, Jason dozing lightly as Slade’s fingertips softly smooth over his body. Jason never used to let himself dare come even close to falling asleep while with a john, but Slade was different. The larger man wrapped around his back made him feel somehow safe. As rough and wild as Slade is during sex he always becomes oddly gentle in the afterglow. It leads Jason to believe that there is more behind his attraction to this “Grayson” than simple lust. He never asks though. It’s none of his business. Plus he really wants to maintain that plausible deniability thing regarding his “study materials”.
Jason grunts when Slade’s wandering hands make it down to his cock, tugging his foreskin back to reveal his glans, still sensitive from his recent orgasm. He longs to slap Slade’s hand away as the man continues playing with his tender flesh, but he’s getting paid for this so he just grunts again to let his displeasure be known while putting up with it. At least until the moment Slade speaks.
“I wish you’d reconsider my offer.”
Jason stiffens.
“No.”
“I’ll make it worth your while. Name your price kid, it’s yours. You’ll have the best surgeon and-”
“I already told you ‘no’!” Jason cuts him off angrily. “I don’t care how much you pay me.”
“Be reasonable,” Slade purrs out as if he wasn’t asking something that was completely and utterly unreasonable like wanting to chop off part of Jason’s dick. “It’s hygienic.”
He tugs Jason’s foreskin down again, pulling it back as far as he can and exposing the glans inside as if somehow the sight of it will convince him. This time Jason doesn’t hesitate to slap the hand away. Settling his foreskin back in place he cradles his cock protectively as if Slade will reach out and tear the extra skin off himself at any moment. That lovely safe and sleepy feeling he had been enjoying moments earlier is completely gone.
“Can it with your bullshit. You only want me to do it so I’ll look more like him. I’m not letting you mutilate me just to enhance your dumbass fantasy.”
Jason twists to give him a glare. It’s an unspoken rule that they don’t mention the other man or the videos during their sessions. When Jason is here he is Grayson. Speaking of the other man shatters that illusion in an instant. Jason can’t really care when his fucking flesh is on the line though.
Slade’s expression is not amused, but it rarely is. Even in his most tender moments Jason doesn’t think he’s ever gotten a smile from the man (though he thinks he may have felt one pressed to the back of his head during some post-coitus cuddling). Now Slade meets his glare head on, unwavering.
“Fifty thousand.”
Jason swallows. Last time had been ten. For one fraction of a second the idea to reconsider flickers through his mind before greed is overwhelmed by disgust and rage. He’s a human being, not a toy for some rich man to manipulate with his money and mutilate as he pleases.
“Fuck. You.” he growls, emphasizing the statement by ripping his way out of Slade’s arms and getting up off the bed. “I don’t have to take this shit. I’m leaving.”
Jason tugs up his boxers as he fumes, shivering a little when he feels Slade’s cum dripping down into the fabric.
“Then you’re only getting half the pay,” Slade tells him cooly.
“What?” Jason whips around furiously from where he had been leaning over to grab his shirt. “I already fucked you. Job well done. Full pay.”
“I’m paying you for the night. The night is not over therefore the job is not done. I don’t pay for half finished work.”
Slade smirks and Jason glares. If looks could kill Slade would be dead. But they can’t, and Jason has absolutely zero power here, which both of them know. Not only is Slade richer and of a higher social standing, he’s also physically larger and stronger. If Jason wants his money he’ll have to do what he says.
His pride is high though, so he can’t bring himself to admit defeat yet. They remain in a standoff, eyes locked as they each appraise the other. Slade’s fucked up grin never leaves his face.
“Come back to bed, Grayson,” the older man finally drawls as if Jason is nothing more than a disobedient child. He knows he has won. With a defeated huff Jason drops his shirt and stomps back over to the bed. He defiantly leaves his underwear on though. Slade pulls him back into their earlier position. His cock is half-hard nestled against Jason’s clothed bottom, and he presses his lips against his ear softly.
“We’ll discuss it again later, little bird,” he whispers. Jason shivers.
He might be selling his body, but he won’t sell his body.
Slade’s arm tightens around his chest.
He won’t.