Archive of Our Own

Tim woke up last.

It was to his cheek pressed to a dusty, hard surface and the heat of nearby torches warming his back.

Underground, in a cave, a repurposed warehouse to match the aesthetic.

Tim mentally ran through the possibilities while discreetly trying to scan his surroundings. His mask was gone, he felt the dust scrape against his cheekbone and get into his eye which he tried desperately not to scratch. His hands were bound at the wrists and elbows, crossed over each other and behind his back.

It was uncomfortable. Purposely so.

His legs were also bound, oddly enough only at the knee but not at the ankles.

His utility belt was gone. His cape was missing, Tim remembered the feeling of being dragged by it before the room flooded with gas.

He and Bruce had been looking into the bombs planted at a petroleum and gas company headquarters just outside Gotham. Parasitic plants and fungal spores had been laid as traps, it’d had Ivy’s markings on it.

But the gas…when it flooded the room.

Their masks hadn’t worked. The ones specially designed to take on Ivy’s compounds hadn’t done the proper job of filtering them out of their air.

They’d been attacked as well. Multiple assailants. All directions. Dressed in dark camouflage. They’d hit when he and Bruce had met in one of the open cubicle work areas. Of course, that was where the ambush had been, a larger space, narrowed halls, and plenty of hiding spots from all the employee work areas.

That wasn’t Ivy’s modus operandi.

Far from it. Ivy worked alone. Almost exclusively aside from the occasional team-ups with Harley but that was because she’d built an immunity against all the poisons and toxins that usually ended up taking Ivy’s would-be partners in crime.

So not Ivy. Someone else. Someone else who wanted him and Bruce to think it was her so they’d show up and use the wrong equipment.

Shit. Bruce was going to be pissed when he woke up.

Tim tried looking through just barely opened slits, an attempt to get a layout of the room and a possible location on Bruce when another voice cut in.

“You may cease the act detective, we know you’re awake.”

Tim didn’t even bother continuing to pretend, letting his eyes snap open and shifting his weight to his bound knees to push himself up.

The room was small, probably no bigger than one of the conference rooms at WE.

Bruce was similarly kneeled, his cowl ripped and missing only he was gagged.

What looked like an iron bar was shoved between his teeth, covered by a lattice of thick dark leather over his mouth and nose. It looked like a…like some kind of muzzle made for humans.

Bruce’s brows were narrowed and his eyes were near dripping with fury as he glared at Ra’s.

Tim joined him, muscles tensing further when he noticed a hooded figure behind him. He looked like he could be a character from Tim’s Wizards & Warlocks game. A long woolen robe ran down to the floor, obscuring the figure’s body but every molecule in Tim was telling him to be wary of the person.

He was standing behind Ra’s like a servant ready to be commanded but the outfit wasn’t exactly League garb. Had Ra’s started outsourcing his talent?

“Wonderful,” Ra’s offered, staring at Tim with that constant indiscernible look on his face, “now that you’re awake we can finally begin.”

Finally? Had they been waiting for him? How long had he been out? How much time had passed?

Not letting anything on his face telegraph how much he was questioning, Tim lifted his chin in Ra’s direction, watching with narrowed eyes as Ra’s stepped down from the slightly elevated floor in front of them.

“Come now, detectives, no need to look so suspicious.” Ra’s began slowing to a stop in front of them. Tim shot a short look in Bruce’s direction.

Bruce’s hands were bound in front of him, a simple knot at the wrists while both his legs were free. His utility belt was also gone but even without it, they’d basically left Bruce unbound.

So why was he just sitting there?

“I’m sure that you are ripe with questions, young detective, and believe me, all will be answered very soon.”

Ra’s was circling them, steps slow and echoing through the room as he lapped them like a predator seeking out the weakest leg to go far.

Bruce was tensed beside him, eyes dark and following Ra’s every movement with the focus of a hawk.

With Ra’s working around them over and over Tim couldn’t work on his knots without risking Ra’s spotting it. He needed a distraction.

Tim’s eyes flickered over to Bruce. The muzzle and gag’s straps wrapped around his head and looped over his ears, Tim could see where it was pulled too tight and digging into his skin, turning the surrounding area a deep red from the force of the straps cutting in.

Had that been…a punishment of some kind?

Ra’s usually bantered with Bruce, exchanging words and monologuing to him while his plan unfolded.

This was…this was new.

Seeing no other option, Tim opened his mouth, eyes locked onto how Ra’s kept looking between them, scanning them, sizing them up like they were…like they were fat chickens for sale at a stall.

There was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. A strange hunger, an eagerness.

Tim almost faltered.

“What’s this about Ra’s?”

Tim spread his knees slightly, distributing his weight and letting it balance him better. He needed to be prepared in case Ra’s decided to throw a curve ball at them.

“This doesn’t fit in with your usual schemes, I always thought kidnapping was below you.”

Ra’s Al Ghul didn’t kidnap. He laid traps, left clues, and expected his target to come to him.

He was chased, he did not chase.

Him suddenly throwing a hood over Bruce and Tim’s faces and throwing them into the trunk of a car was not how he did things.

Something was up.

Ra’s let out a low sound of dry amusement as he stopped in front of Tim. Bruce was beside them, head turned towards the front but Tim could see how his shoulders were trembling with effort, strain visible from the veins popping up along his throat.

He hadn’t said a word to Tim the entire time, he hadn’t even looked at him.

Bruce didn’t do that. Bruce checked up on them, asked if they were okay, scanned them for injuries because he could never just take their word for it.

Something was up.

“Always quick with your quips aren’t you my young detective,” Ra’s began, somehow having gotten closer while Tim had let himself be distracted.

Shit.

Ra’s long black nails stroked the sides of Tim’s cheek, kissing his hairline and then scratching soft lines along his scalp like - like Tim was some kind of lapcat.

“Oh, my sweet detective-”

Tim held back a scoff because Ra’s had called him a lot of things in the time they’d known each other but he was certain the other knew that Tim was not sweet.

(Tim tried hard to ignore the way Ra’s was saying it, using the word ‘my’ to show possession, his voice thick and flowing with indulgence like Tim hadn’t long proven himself an adversary. That coupled with Ra’s strange behavior did not paint a good picture.)

“I am growing old and weary of this game.” Ra’s continued.

Tim shivered softly before suppressing it, Ra’s fingers were still tangled in his hair. The ends of his fingers were tugging softly at Tim’s roots. If he wanted to, Ra’s could rip out a chunk of Tim’s hair.

“The failure of my grandson has further emphasized my needs, detective.”

Ra’s crouched down, face hovering over Tim’s. The grip he had on Tim’s hair allowed him to tilt his head back, exposing the line of his throat and forcing him to look up at Ra’s whose eyes were…studying him?

Ra’s green eyes never met Tim’s, instead, they traced Tim’s brows, his nose, lips, cheeks, and hair. Ra’s other hand drifted up and gripped Tim’s jaw in a harsh grip, fingers squeezing and pressing Tim’s cheeks together, not letting him get another word out aside from some muffled noises.

“I cannot afford another failure, so I have resolved to…” Ra’s trailed off, a sharp finger tapped idly at Tim’s cheekbone, “...to take matters into my own hands.”

Ra’s dropped his grip and stepped back. Tim ignored the soft sting of his hair and cheeks and glared up at the pseudo-immortal.

“Oh don’t give me that look, Timothy,” Ra’s rolled his eyes with the tone of his voice. “It may not seem like it but tonight is the culmination of several months worth of planning.”

At that Tim tensed further, throat going too tight with strain at the words.

Months? Had Ra’s been planning on taking them for months? How hadn’t they noticed?

Bruce always kept close tabs on Ra’s and the League’s presence in Gotham. That coupled with insider knowledge from Damian, Jason, and Cass usually meant that they weren’t caught off guard.

Pru hadn’t let anything slip to him last he’d heard from her. In fact, last he heard, many League forces were being diverted to the Czech Republic, some kind of faction uprising that had to be put down.

In-fighting was common in big organizations like the League but either that had been a ruse to slip into the surrounding area of Gotham or Ra’s was taking a personal day and dealing with them himself.

“I will be honest with you Timothy, both you and the detective have been my biggest disappointments.”

Tim’s eyes drifted back to Ra’s who’d gone back to standing in front of them, his back was straight, green suit reflecting the light of the torches. He was dressed more modernly, with a jacket and slacks but no tie adorning him. His usual cape, loose shirt, pants, and the sash that he kept tied around his waist were gone.

“I had such high hopes for my grandson,” Ra’s continued and Tim felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to stand as he watched him remove the suit jacket, “but it seems I made a grievous error in his upbringing.”

Ra’s unbottoed the shirt cuffs at his wrist, wrinkled hands slowly rolling the fabric up to his elbows.

“Allowing Talia to raise the bastard had been a mistake.”

At that Bruce made a sound. A throaty sort of noise, dry like he was dying of thirst and his vocal cords were scraping against each other.

Ra’s ignored him as Bruce shook with effort, his body rocking unsteadily but purposefully.

“I will not be making the same mistake this time.”

Ra’s steadied himself. He finished fixing his rolled-up sleeves and let both arms fall to his sides. A motion with his hand and the hooded figure that had, up until then, been silent and watching was up and moving out of sight.

Tim tried to follow him out of the corner of his eyes but presently Ra’s was the biggest threat so he couldn’t risk letting his eyes slip off him. Instead, Tim had to strain his ears, listening intently to the sounds of rustling, the empty drum of metals and plastic hitting each other. Soft thumps like objects were being rummaged through and rearranged. It was only when the squeak of wheels started coming closer that Tim realized that a cart filled to the brim with stuff was being brought over.

A quick glance over told Tim very little. Amber and clear glass jars lined the top and bottom, various powders and odd liquids filled them. Herbs, little things that seemed to be floating in a brine swayed with the movement of the cart as the hooded servant pushed it until it stopped in front of them.

Ra’s held out a hand which was immediately filled with a set of fresh latex gloves, handed to him by his assistant.

Tim felt something tingle in his gut at the sight, a squirmy feeling like he could feel his organs tensing in preparation. Tim hadn’t spotted any swords or weapons hanging on Ra’s side. He was unarmed and that unnerved Tim more than anything else.

No shadows were creeping in the corners of the room, armed to the teeth and ready to kill at the slightest indication by their master.

No, instead Ra’s was dressed casually and snapping on a pair of medical-grade gloves like he was about to ask Tim to bend over and cough.

“You and the other detective held so much potential, Timothy.”

Ra’s eyes were probing, the green of them almost glowing as they slid from Tim to Bruce who was nearly keeled over with effort.

“When one has such prime specimens I simply cannot allow them to be lost. My grandson was born ruined.”

At that Tim made a noise, a grunted noise mixed with a snarl because he and Damian may not have the best relationship but he wasn’t about to sit and listen to Ra’s Al Ghul, of all people, badmouth him. Damian tried. He tried so hard and Ra’s didn’t get to make disparaging comments about what a “disappointment” Damian was.

“An issue with the blood I suspect,” Ra’s continued, wagging his finger like he was making a point.

“I had assumed that a pure lineage would’ve made up for any failures in his talent but even that wasn’t enough.” Ra’s paced as he lamented. “Not only did he not fulfill what was expected of him but Talia failed to bring him to the standards ordered of her.”

Ra’s shook his head, disappointment clear in every line of his face.

“All those years of training, mentoring, teaching. All the resources and food invested in his development were wasted. When they could’ve been allocated to a more promising pupil.”

Tim felt indignance on Damian’s behalf. Even though Bruce was likely drugged or doped on something, Tim could still feel his anger at Ra’s words. Tim wished he had a batarang in his hand. It would be blocked but he’d still be treated to that offended look on Ra’s face when someone interrupted him.

“This time, I will be monitoring the progress myself and ensure the progeny live up to their potential.” It was said deceptively casual. In the same unconcerned and matter-of-fact tone he always used. Ra’s adjusted the glove on one of his hands as he spoke, his eyes not looking at them. Not bothering to take in their reactions of how Tim felt something stutter to a stop in his chest and Bruce froze from his fierce struggle.

“What progeny Ra’s,” Tim breathed, voice suddenly breathless, “what are you getting at, what’s this about?”

Ra’s raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Tim, eyes shining with brief disappointment as he shook his head like it wasn’t worth it to feel let down.

“My heir, Timothy.” Ra’s replied, tone pointed as he turned his back to them while he started tugging a silver tray smeared with a wet half-dried mixture on it to a nearby stone pillar table. “The heir you and the detective will give me.”

Tim felt everything inside him freeze. A slimy cold feeling of dread filled the empty space of his gut, weighing him down like he’d swallowed a brick and swelling his throat shut to the size of a straw.

“What?” Tim croaked. It came out as more of a wheeze that went disregarded by Ra’s who was mixing something together, popping open various lids and pouring in syrupy liquids and dusty powders that muddied up the air.

Tim took several quick breaths, a cough leaving him as he tried to raise his voice.

“What? What the fuck are you talking about Ra’s?”

“You and the detective will be giving me a child.” Ra’s replied smoothly, not stopping as he pulled out a mortar and pestle. “I shall supervise its training and make sure that this time, no mistakes are made.”

Tim stared. He stared at Ra’s back as he murmured low words to the figure helping him, passing him specific measurements of what he requested and readying a smaller, wooden bowl for the transfer of whatever Ra’s was making.

“I do admit though that this plan was not designed without its issues.”

Tim’s head snapped up, his eyes locking on Ra’s as he stirred and let a viscous red liquid, the color of dried blood, drip off the spatula in his hand. Ra’s turned his head, eyes studying Tim for a full moment, an edge of disapproval dripped into his expression

“Your decision to poison yourself with chemicals took a great toll on your fertility, Timothy.”

Tim felt like a tight hand wrapped around his heart, squeezing the organ and letting the beat of it stutter in his chest.

“That coupled with your lack of spleen greatly elevates the risks posed in a natural childbirth-”

Tim felt his breathing get heavier, his ears ringing with some distant static while Ra’s pretended to not see Tim’s silent panicking. He felt like he was going to throw up, there was a sick queasiness in his stomach as he listened to Ra’s talk about Tim’s hormone treatments and birth control with dismay in his voice.

He didn’t care what Ra’s thought of it, he hadn’t taken his words seriously even when he made that creepy comment about the ‘pleasant surprise’ his doctors had found while conducting his splenectomy.

But this…this.

Ra’s was talking about Tim’s fertility, of getting him pregnant, getting him pregnant with his child- no.

Not Ra’s child.

Bruce’s child.

“Talia made several mistakes, ones I am going to rectify.” Ra’s turned back around. His hands were empty but Tim could hear as the person helping Ra’s continued working. “She always had the unfortunate habit of…relying on technological innovations to do her work for her. Lazy and fallacious.” Ra’s said with a soured look on his face.

Tim and Bruce were both well aware of how much Ra’s despised modern world values and technology even if the League frequently stole and acquired all the latest tech. That was based on necessity rather than an actual want or desire.

“In the old world, we did things ourselves.” Ra’s began, stepping down from the steps and away from the cart behind him. “In the old world, we knew what held value. In the old world, we didn’t give birth to so much waste.”

Ra’s eyes darkened with each word and Tim was startlingly reminded of recent things in the news and just how furious Ra’s probably was. Ivy had been acting up even more lately as well, it was why when he and Batman had gotten a lead on her activity they’d rushed towards it because her actions had become pointedly more…lethal.

Aquaman had also been very unhappy at the last Justice League meeting according to Bruce.

An oil rig had exploded off the coast of Australia. Embers were carried to the coast of the country by wind. Australia was in the middle of a particularly dry season and lit it up like a match the minute ash had made contact with dry bush. Crude oil continued getting pumped into the ocean, coupled with fire meant the ocean had caught on fire.

The northern sea banks were suffering disastrous overfishing, all of Europe was feeling it through the price gouging of their seafood. Villages by the sea whose primary diets were composed of what they caught from the sea were given two choices, move in-land or starve.

Acid rain was falling in the Amazon from improper disposal of materials by several chemical plants.

China lifted its ban on commercial logging of protected forests and now companies were all vying for a piece.

Tim had taken note of it all, he along with Bruce had known that they were going to be dealing with some angrier rogues like Ivy when all those news outlets started pumping out those stories. Bruce had been putting some pressure on politicians he knew and had gone to college with that were now in Congress and the Senate.

Tim was setting up funds, charity auctions, and galas for purposes outside of Gotham.

Ra’s was angry that much was clear.

A lot of people were. Barbara had detected an uptick in social unrest on various social media platforms.

Unlike most people, though, Ra’s had the money, power, and people to do stuff about it.

Tim thought that would’ve meant Ra’s would be too occupied with other things to concern himself with them. But it was very quickly made clear that that wasn’t the case.

“I can no longer wait for you or the detective to come to your senses, I need my heir now. Before the world shifts beyond all recognition.”

Ra’s expression was calm. There was a strange serenity in him that made Tim uncomfortable, more so than anything Ra’s had said so far. For a moment Ra’s just stared at him. His eyes were heavy, thick with some unknown almost…nostalgic look on his face.

Suddenly the moment passed and he was kneeling in front of Tim, gloved hands on Tim’s shoulders and pushing him back onto his bound hands.

Tim immediately started bucking, resisting against the hands like a wild horse. Not that it seemed to make a difference, a hard pressure hit his neck followed by two others near the hollows of his thighs. Tim’s limbs went heavy like the muscles in each limb were paralyzed and tied to a different cinder block.

Pressure points. Oh of course Ra’s used them before he straightened Tim’s legs out before his hands drifted to the waist of Tim’s suit.

Tim gritted his teeth together, jaw grinding bone against bone as warm hands covered by latex started tugging his pants and underwear down.

He heard Bruce make a chest-deep snarl from nearby but no help followed it.

Tim felt himself flush, humiliation and hatred simmering under his skin.

Ra’s pulled his pants down all the way down to his knees which remained bound.

Ra’s took a moment too long to stare at him before turning to the hooded figure who came down to kneel at Tim’s other side.

“Do you know what the hardest part about founding the League of Assassins was?”

Tim could only move everything above his neck and did his best to turn to face Ra’s who was staring at him, eyes expectant like he was waiting for an answer.

Normally Tim would play along. Go with the banter, add in his two cents to the conversation. But he stopped being in the mood for it the moment Ra’s had pulled his pants down.

Ra’s sighed in disappointment when Tim kept his lips pursed and mouth shut.

“It wasn’t gaining followers, that was easy. In the old days, so long as you offered food, shelter, and safety then they would remain by your side and follow your word to the ends of the Earth.”

A small smile crept across Ra’s expression, his eyes were off of Tim and looking away to something in the distance. As quickly as it came it disappeared.

“The food, the shelter- those were the hardest parts. Animals die very easily, detective.”

A wooden bowl was placed on Tim’s sternum like he was a table, and a thick, dark brush was slowly dipped in the paint-like mixture and swirled.

“Disease, famine, dehydration, starvation,” Ra’s continued, eyes gaining that glassy look in them again. “Sometimes the offspring wouldn’t live longer than a day, they were hard times back then.”

Ra’s pushed up the top of Tim’s uniform, stopping when they reached his surgical scars under his pecs.

Tim bit on his tongue with his back molars when he felt Ra stroke it with a finger, slowly. He pressed the pad of his finger and felt out the difference between the tissue-like scar and the smoothness of his skin.

“The problems lay in their breeding. Many of the animals died but some…” Ra’s trailed off. “Some survived.”

Ra’s hooded assistant finally made their presence known and Tim watched with steely eyes as he took a brush dipped in that paint-like mixture and started painting thin lines and markings on his lower abdomen.

Right over his womb.

Tim felt a chill of something trail down his spine.

“What is he doing?” He asked, edge to his voice as a line was painted down the line of his pubic area.

“The ones that lived were bred with others of their kind that also survived. Some of those children lived and so on and on we went, pairing and mating the ones with the highest potential-” Ra’s was rambling. One of his hands was pressed to Tim’s stomach, and the other was on his knees, keeping them pinned down.

"Ra's-"

Tim went ignored.

“We did it for animals of all kinds, strong horses that could carry riders for days without rest. Camels that could withstand larger loads. Cows that produced the sweetest milk. Sheep that gave the softest wool."

An animal. Ra’s was comparing him and Bruce to fucking animals bred for their parts.

“That is how kingdoms are built, Timothy.” Ra’s stared down at him, eyes somehow more crazed than Tim had ever seen them even though not a single thing changed in his expression.

Tim couldn’t help the slightest trickle of relief when Ra’s looked away and to his servant who was pulling the brush away.

“Is it done?” He asked, tone implying unpleasant things if it wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

The voice was younger than Tim was expecting but also indistinguishable from being male or female.

“The runes are complete, all that is left is the ritual.”

Ritual?

That was not good. Ritual meant magic and magic meant trouble.

Ra’s pushed himself up until he was standing over Tim, his head tilted down a bit to make sure their eyes stayed locked together.

“Times have changed since I was young. Today rather than pen the two animals we wish to mate together, a desirable bull would have its sperm collected and spread to a wide number of females to ensure the greatest number of potential offspring with their genetics.” Ra’s eyes drifted to Bruce who was hunched over, forehead grinding into the dusty floor and looking like he was in pain. Tim hadn't even noticed, the older man hadn’t made a sound.

“But not in this case.” Ra’s continued. “In this case, not every heifer is worthy of being bred.” Ra’s eyes trailed down the length of Tim’s paralyzed body, his limbs still heavy and unresponsive.

Tim wished he could at least move his fingers to flip him off.

Tim didn’t get a chance to try because the next second, Ra’s was turning and roughly grabbing Bruce by the back of his neck, pulling him up and dragging him in Tim’s direction.

Bruce struggled, he made thick snarls that were muffled by the iron bar in his mouth and the muzzle. Tim could see where Ra’s fingernails were digging into Bruce’s skin, little beads of red blood began beading as Ra’s grabbed him by the scruff and dumped him at Tim’s feet.

Once they were close and face to face Tim was able to take clear stock of Bruce. A dark bruise was on his temple and he was sweating.

A lot.

His dark hair was heavy with perspiration, thin locks clinging to his cheeks and the base of his neck. His pupils were blown to the size of dinner plates leaving behind a very thin ring of colored iris.

Yeah, he was on something. Tim couldn’t hear it but he could tell that Bruce’s heart was beating a mile a minute, pumping hard enough to be heard in his ears as he made short, gritted sounds. His teeth were clamped down on the iron bar between them and Tim just knew that his jaw was going to be aching with pain once they got it off.

Bruce was literally chewing iron, his body shaking with effort as his eyes also took Tim in, lingering on the hands bound behind his back, his knees, and his exposed cunt.

Tim felt the flush on his face deepen.

“The muzzle is one of the many preventative measures I have taken.” Ra’s began. “Aggressive males usually end up harming or killing the bitch during the coupling so a muzzle was necessary to ensure proper behavior and your safety.”

Tim felt something in him clench at the wording. Bruce was on something, something that made him delirious and sedated but Tim wasn’t seeing any signs of aggression from him.

Suddenly Ra’s hands were pressing down Bruce’s pants and underwear. Bruce snapped at him, turning his head quickly and nearly tipping over.

“Ah, this is just like the early days of the League.” Ra’s sighed something that sounded too close to wistful for Tim to believe. But any further thought he could have had was put on the back burner the second Bruce’s jock was tossed to the side, revealing a very aroused, not flaccid cock. Ra’s hands were wrapped around it, thumb pressed to the spongy head as he steadied it.

“Lift his legs.”

Tim’s ankles were grabbed by the hooded assistant that he’d stupidly forgotten about and pulled back until his bound knees were at his chin.

“This was also another measure undertaken when the paired animals weren’t breeding. We would feed them fruits soaked in wine, burn certain herbs, or tie one of them to a post in the proper position. Animals can be very uncooperative Timothy, much like humans.” Ra’s continued talking like he was offering a lecture on the history of the League's origins which apparently was greatly composed of getting animals to fuck.

Tim arched off the ground, trying to ease the strain on his arms which had been getting crushed for a while. The way his legs were positioned put pressure on his diaphragm making it harder to take deep breaths.

Tim was thinking of how to steady his breathing when the first wave hit him. It was a rush of sudden heat and arousal, a pulsing sensation that was concentrated in his pussy.

Tim let out a sudden choked gasp when it hit him, taking a sharp inhale of breath and holding it as another sudden wave of stimulation washed through him.

“Ah, there it is,” Ra’s commented tone satisfied. “It took a while for the same to occur to the detective but the mares always took on the effects faster than the studs. High investment offspring require more hands-on intervention you know.”

‘Shut up’ Tim wanted to say. ‘Just shut the fuck up.’

“This one is to ensure that neither internal nor external factors will terminate the fetus,” Ra’s finger touched Tim’s burning skin, tracing the dried paint on his womb while explaining something Tim couldn’t give a shit about he was so fucking hot-

“This is for an easy birth on the mother, too much internal damage and they won’t be able to be bred in the next season. I made some adjustments to ensure the rune will remain after my heir is born. If they turn out to be a failure just like my grandson I could always just make another one-”

Ra’s voice was underwater and a million miles away, all Tim could think about was the burning itch inside him, the pulsing want. He could feel his little pussy stretched open and empty, waiting to be stuffed, waiting to be bred- why wasn’t he being bred?!

“This line ties your womb to the detective’s testis, this will ensure that no accidental crossbreeding will occur should a wayward stud wander into your pen.”

Ra’s was saying something with the edge of amusement, some kind of joke but Tim couldn’t make out what it was.

“However, this one, this one was recently developed just for you and my dear detective. A revitalizer of sorts to ensure your womb would be a fecund environment for my heir and also ensure both of your…cooperation.”

Tim whined, arching his hips up and clenching his cunt on emptiness. God he was wet, so wet, he didn’t think he’d ever been this wet.

Tim felt like crying. It was such an overwhelming wave of frustration that was flooding him because he Wasn’t. Being. Fucked.

Tim heard a coo of sympathy as the stream of tears started falling. His little pussy was so itchy he needed a scratch, deep inside him, deep inside where that burning was.

“Are you ready my dear detective?”

Tim’s whining was cut off when a low rumble motored nearby. Tim’s legs were up, his pussy exposed and ready, presented for use.

There was a heaving sire in front of him. Tim could see the want in his eyes, the dark pools deep with heady desire. His cock was out, red, throbbing, and ready to make Tim his dam.

Tim whined, desperately attempting to part his legs but his knees were stuck, caught in some kind of contraption. Tim unhappily tried tugging his legs apart but they didn’t budge.

Dam made a sad little noise, hoping that his struggle was evident to the sire.

‘Don’t leave!’ he hoped he was conveying ‘I'm in so much pain but I’m trying! Don’t leave!’

“Oh, poor little mare, are you trying to present yourself for your stud?”

Master! It was master!

Dam felt a flood of relief overwhelm him, his master was here! His master would help and make sure he was a good little dam.

“Here, allow me.”

Dam felt the tension around his knees loosen allowing them to fall open and frame the sides of his stud that was straining in master’s hands. A smack to the nose got him to calm his riotous behavior.

“None of that detective, you be gentle with the mare do you understand me? Don’t damage them or else you’ll be in big trouble.”

Dam could see as the sire frowned, his dark brows creasing together in displeasure at the orders master was giving him. Still, when master removed his hands, sire was much slower. His freed hands went down to touch Dam’s hips, eyes locked on his weeping cunt. His flushed cock was straining, the crown of it almost purple with desire, the tip was messy with smears of white that were beading at the small slit at the front.

Dam’s eyes stared at the sight, scanning at its length and girth, breathless at its…heftiness. Dam eyed it with a hint of nervousness.

Sire was older and bigger. He seemed like a well-seasoned breeder, he’d probably fathered dozens of pups already. But Dam….dam was still a doe.

He was…untried and now he was going to be bred by a much older sire who was going to give him his first pup. The first of many hopefully.

Dam whined a soft cooing sound that he hoped was taken as welcoming as sire continued climbing closer. His sire’s face was half covered, teeth hidden away and Dam couldn’t help the soft jolt of relief that hit him as the cock nestled closer, pressing against his wet, open seam.

Dam had heard about sires that bit their dams and marked them up. Some were even so concerned with their own pleasure that they ended up hurting the dams, killing them even.

This sire was old enough to know his strength, wasn’t he? To know how hard to grab and how deeply to fuck?

Oh, dam had such a generous master! Making sure that his first time being bred would be a smooth and painless one.

Much less fearful than he was before, dam inched his hips up, exposing his wet hole for the sire that was looking at him with hunger.

Large hands gripped dam’s hips, dragging him closer and letting him feel the length of the cock that was going to be in him. Dam lifted his head away from the floor, staring down the length of his body and watching as white trickles of release dripped onto his markings.

Similarly, etched red ones ran all down the length of his sire’s cock. Thick and thin lines with scripts and shapes similar to his own ran and stopped at the round sack hanging between his legs.

That’s what he needed.

Dam kept staring, eyes focused on the occasional flash of it as sire gripped himself and started sliding the head into his folds, coating himself in slick wetness.

Dam’s cunt and insides had been aching, throbbing with a pain that wasn’t being soothed or going away. He didn’t know how to fix it but somehow…instinctively…he knew that only his sire could give him the relief he needed.

When sire pressed in, the crown of his cock was gripped tightly by his pussy, and dam arched into it. Dam rolled his hips, little huffing breaths leaving him as he felt sire strain against the clamping of his walls.

“Mnn-” Dam let out soft low sounds as he furrowed his brow.

Sire was gagged, unable to make any sound aside from moans and grunts as he inched slowly inside. Dam felt his walls give under the penetration, stretching to accommodate and allow sire in deeper.

“Ah ahhh hhhnmmm nnnghh-”

Dam felt the cock scrape against his walls, his cunt making thick ‘squelch’ sounds the more he sunk in. Dam’s mouth fell open the more he was filled, it was so much it was so much it was too much itwastoomuch-

Dam let out a cry, body jolting when he felt sire hit something. It was like he’d gone as deep as he could, like there was no more space for him to sink in. Sire ground in deeper, making soft growls as he rubbed into dam’s walls. It was low and repeated ‘gnn nnngh hnngh’ sounds as he tried to find an angle to sink deeper.

Dam looked down and was able to see that there was a little bit of cock left before that dark patch of hair that covered the base reached him. Sire’s hands clamped down on his hips, bringing him down and trying to fit that little bit into his warmth.

Dam let out a little yelp, tensing as he felt the opening to his womb be battered. He could feel the press of sire’s cock into him, the tug of his walls to keep him inside as he pulled out, and the way he opened for him as he pumped in. Dam squirmed, bending his knees, trying to find purchase to keep himself steady as sire fucked into him.

A gentle warmth began buzzing in him, with every thrust in he could feel a little spark, a shock of heat that rendered him breathless and mute. Dam’s eyes slipped closed, a happy hum leaving him as he felt sire creep closer. Dam let out a soft grunt when sire settled his weight on him, the muzzle on him nudging his face while he adjusted his hands.

Sire’s hands snaked down from his hips to his back and down to the soft swell of his ass. Dam gasped when sire grabbed them, one cheek in each hand.

Dam had a second where sire stopped, where his cock froze inside of him while he tightened his grip.

Dam had been letting out soft moans, little noises of approval for sire. That changed when sire reared back and fucked in- hard.

“Ah!” Dam let out a little sound of surprise. It wasn’t quite a yelp but carried the same edge of shock,

Dam’s hands were stuck, bound, and tied down behind him so there was nothing for him to grab onto when sire began wrecking him. Sire’s cock never pulled completely out, only tugged out a bit before he fucked back in harder and deeper each time.

Dam didn’t know what to do with himself, it felt good. Sire rubbing inside him made him happy in a way he’d never felt before. Dam had never noticed how empty he was until he had sire to fill his hole.

Dam focused his sight through his tears of pleasure, watching how he and sire were joined. He stared at the obscene way his folds parted for sire, the pink of them rubbed red from the friction. He stared at sire’s bright red cock sinking into him, listened to his stream of moans, and wondered if it was anywhere near as good as it was for dam.

Dam’s insides were happy, tingling and singing sire’s praise with every thrust into him. Dam felt as the little button on his front that he touched to feel good was twitching more and more.

Sire’s hands were gripping his ass tightly, spreading his cheeks with every thrust in and digging his nails into the soft meat. Dam could only let out gutted groaning sounds of ‘ungh unghh hhnngh mmmnnah!’

Dam was breathless and panting, he could only take so much before his vision whited out and he was letting out a cry so loud and high-pitched he was sure it could be heard for miles. Dam seized on sire’s cock, cunt tightening and desperately gripping on the length seeking its release when sire stilled over him.

Sire was deep inside him, cock right at the opening for dam’s womb when the first wave of release painted his walls.

“Ah ahn hnnmm-”

Dam pressed his hips down as hard as could when that cooling release shot into him. Wave after wave flooded his insides, calming that burn within like a soothing balm. Dam rode through his orgasm, moaning and cooing the jolts of pleasure warming his pussy as he tried his best to milk his sire of his seed, to show him how much he appreciated him.

Sire pulled out, slowly.

They both watched as that white-coated length popped out and was quickly followed by a thin stream of cum even as Dam tried his best to clamp down and keep it all inside.

Sire made a noise before his fingers joined in the effort. Rough calluses stroked dam’s still shaking walls as he did his best to scoop up and return the leaking cum to their rightful place.

Dam’s walls were throbbing, pussy puffed with friction and pulsing from use. His breathing was heavy and his heart was slowing from his orgasm, returning to its normal beats per minute.

Sire was not as breathless or wrecked. His cock was flaccid but he was staring down at dam with a devouring heat in his eyes. Despite the clear lack of ability, sire pressed forward, rubbing his limp cock against the wet creamy mess between dam’s thighs.

“Oh there there detective it’s alright, the woes of growing old I suppose but don’t worry your mare is young and will be ready for you when you’re able again.”

Master was suddenly beside them. His expression was one of pride and satisfaction before he began stroking both dam and sire on their heads.

Dam shivered at the long claws, feeling a tingle in somewhere that wasn’t his pussy as soft praises were sung at them.

“Excellent.” Master chanted. “Excellent, excellent, excellent.”

Sire grunted softly, not accepting but also not rejecting master’s touch.

“We will see if this one takes.” Master turned his gaze to dam, eyes trailed down and staring at his womb with barely concealed fascination. “Fertilization will take 24 hours so we will know soon. If color change of the runes does not occur then we will try again.”

Master stood up and exchanged words with the hooded not-master beside him.

Dam did not listen to what was said, focused instead on sire who was tugging him closer and trying to slide his slackened cock into him with little success and grunts of frustration.

Master made towards the door behind them, saying some words about bringing dam and sire some fresh feed to their pen. Dam felt a bubble of excitement at the thought of sweet water and soft fleshed fruits to eat.

Dam did not get his promised meal, instead grabbed and shuffled away by several bodies of not-master’s. When he began to whine and sire began snarling and fighting, sharp pricks bloomed with pain in his neck and suddenly all his disappointment at his lost meal faded away.

Tim woke up on one of the gurneys in the cave. He could hear the beep of the heart monitor he was strapped onto as well as the familiar sound of the centrifuge running samples in the lab section of the cave.

His mouth was sticky and dry like he’d just eaten a spider web. Tim pushed himself up, ready to press the button for assistance when he felt eyes on him.

Tim's instincts screamed at him to turn so he tried his best to discreetly look in the corner of his eyes. When he noticed it was in the direction of a second medical cot he let his eyes drift towards where Bruce was staring at him.

Bruce’s eyes were dark but his pupils had returned to their normal size. His expression was blank, lips pursed as he stared at Tim with silent appraisal. Bruce’s eyes drifted from Tim’s head down the length of his body covered by a paper gown and a blanket over his lap.

Tim did the same to him, assessing the bruise that had deepened in color on his temple. Tim didn’t want to assume but he could guess that Bruce probably hadn’t been very cooperative to Ra’s when he’d woken up. There were fading red marks lining his face, under his eyes, and over his nose. Tim was suddenly reminded of the fact that Ra’s had muzzled Bruce.

Muzzled him like he was a fucking dog. The anger that began flooding Tim was almost immediately stopped when he heard Bruce speak.

“How are you?”

Tim stopped. Bruce’s mouth moved awkwardly, his brows furrowed, briefly showing an expression of discomfort before it was wiped away.

Right. The iron bar that he’d had shoved between his teeth because Ra’s was a piece of shit.

Tim repeated the question again in his head. How was he? How was he?

Tim thought about the fact that he’d just been fucked and bred by his mentor and father because a psycho immortal had decided that he wanted the offspring of both of them. He thought about the fact that he’d been etched with magic runes that had turned into some kind of half-animal hybrid thinking thing to the point that when he saw Ra’s he thought ‘master’ instead of ‘asshole’. He thought of how he’d willingly spread his legs for Bruce, how he’d moaned and arched for him and how happy he’d been when Bruce came inside him. He thought of how he came so hard he’d seen stars-

Tim swallowed. Every time he shifted an ache shot down between his legs. His inner thighs throbbed with pain and no matter which way he sat he couldn’t ignore the way he was startlingly aware of the heat pulsing from his pussy.

How was he?

“Fine,” Tim replied.

Bruce’s face didn’t shift an inch but Tim knew for a fact that he didn’t believe him.

Bruce opened his mouth, probably to call him out on not being all right no matter what he said but Tim beat him to it.

“How long have I been out?”

Last time he’d woken up confused with no idea how much time passed between waking up in that dungeon-like room to when they’d been knocked out with gas.

Bruce pursed his lips, eyes narrowed on Tim for a beat of silence before he answered.

“A little over a day.” Bruce finally replied. “They had to keep us under until the initial magic ran its course. It wore off sooner for me, apparently, years of exposure built up somewhat of an immunity but…” Bruce trailed off and his expression darkened,”...not enough I suppose.”

Tim…Tim didn’t know what to say. Bruce had a guilt complex unlike any other. It…It was going to be a hard thing to convince him it wasn’t his fault.

That it was Ra’s. That it was the compulsion from the magic. That Bruce, in a sane and rational state of mind, would’ve never done it. That even if it felt good and he came, that didn’t mean that he’d wanted it.

Tim didn’t blame him. He didn’t. He’d seen how greatly Bruce had struggled, how he’d tried so hard to resist, and how he’d fought against it the entire time.

(He’d struggled more than Tim had. Fought harder than Tim had. Tim had sat there listening to Ra’s rambings before being pinned down and branded)

Tim hadn’t seen it coming. Bruce hadn’t seen it coming.

Tim’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Bruce’s voice cutting through the haze.

“You were still out when Zatanna came by,” he began. Bruce frowned deeply before continuing. There was unease in his expression. He was looking away from Tim, averting his eyes as he continued. “She…she took a look at both runes and said she needed to consult some books because the markings were derived from something meant for the fertility of cattle.”

Tim tightened his fist in the fine threads of the blanket on his lap.

A cow? Was that what Ra’s thought of him and Bruce as? Cows? They were fucking cows?

Tim felt his throat tighten, the dryness more prominent as he tried to swallow back his anger.

Tim tried to steady himself, tried to breathe steadily through his nose. He couldn’t think of Ra’s not right now when he was hooked up to a heart monitor and any deviation would bring the rest of the family down to the cave and the last thing Tim wanted to see was other people.

Tim ran Bruce’s words through his mind again. Zatanna was looking for a solution. Bruce had a slight immunity to magic. He was out for a little over a day.

Suddenly Tim’s breath stuttered to a stop.

A little over a day.

A little over 24 hours.

‘Fertilization will take 24 hours so we will know soon. If color change of the runes does not occur then we will try again.’

Ra’s words echoed through Tim’s braincase like it was the scream of someone deep in a chasm. Garbled and incomprehensible but Tim had still been able to understand.

Tim was shoving away the blanket on his lap, kicking it down with his sore legs as his hands scrambled for the bottom of his gown.

Bruce was making a questioning noise, first soft then louder. Tim was pretty sure Bruce was calling his name when Tim pulled the gown all the way to his chest.

He was naked underneath and he could tell that his cunt had been wiped clean of the evidence but that wasn’t what he was focused on.

The runes when they’d been painted on had been a brownish-red color. The color of dried-up blood that flaked off the skin. Tim remembered glancing at it when he’d strained his neck to watch Bruce fuck him.

It wasn’t a brownish-red anymore.

Now it was a pure red. A crisp bright red like a freshly flayed wound.

Tim startled, something like horror building in him as he heard Bruce begin to get out of his cot.

Some part of him, some strange odd, startlingly naive part of him felt like it was leaping with joy. ‘Dam’s womb took!’ it cheered.

‘It took’ Tim thought blanky. ‘It took’ he thought hysterically.

Fuck.