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Bruce knows, the moment he wakes up, that something is very wrong.
It's not out of ordinary for him to forget how he got into the bed, or how he got back from patrol - sometimes exhaustion and the stress he puts his body through makes him run on autopilot, barely aware of his surroundings the moment Bruce deems his environment safe. He always remembers how he got back to the cave, because loosing focus in the field could cost him his life, and Gotham it's protector. He cannot allow himself to relax until Alfred checks him for injuries, the butler very adamant on proper care even for minor cuts.
Bruce doesn't remember going back to the cave. As a matter of fact he cannot remember a single thing that happened after he pursued a criminal into the Crime Alley — his son's Red Hood's territory — the one place in Gotham he was not supposed to wander into. Hood made his point the last time he shoot him for stepping over an imaginary line. He could have done it again, seen him too close for comfort and decided to empty the magazine into his back.
There were enough drugs in his system to support that theory, his mouth full of cotton and the aftertaste of something sweet and sour, muscle relaxants and painkillers no doubt. Bruce's body after so many years of suffering would not react to a normal, standard dose — he had to make his own concoctions in the cave's lab, with just enough morphine to get him through the day but not enough to make him into an addict. Whoever took him gave him wrong proportions,with too much relaxant — he could barely move his fingers tips and his eyes refused to open.
His body was numb and weirdly spend, like he just got back from a date with Selina. She always managed to match his stamina, the way no one else could, and combined with how little they actually saw each other, one night always felt like ten. He would return home, looking like he got mauled by a furious animal, with claw marks all over his back, with bites everywhere Selina could reach. Bruce loved to poke the wounds until they healed as a reminder she was there with him. That once in a while, there was a moment when the bat and the cat, could conclude their eventful hunt.
Selina never drugged him like this, not without his consent anyway. Sure, Bruce didn't mind if she fucked him in his sleep — most of the time he would wake up before she even started — but drugs were a hard no for him. Never like this, never again. She knew that, she knew that because he told her.
There was a sound, somewhere to his left, of a door opening and closing. Heavy footsteps, without shoes, no sounds of rustling of fabric and controlled breathing. Someone big entered the room, someone trained. Bruce would ask them who they were if he could open his damn mouth, but despite his struggles his lips seemed to be glued together. He tried to move his hands next, but it was like someone tied rocks to them and threw him into the sea. Bruce was sinking, sinking into this plush bed instead of water.
The mattress dipped, next to his exposed frame, the figure so close now that Bruce could felt their warmth. For a while there was only silence, except for his heavy breathing increasing with frustration, at that fact that he still couldn't open his eyes.
Then suddenly there was a hand on his face — big, with callouses similar to those most often found on hired gunman. Those hands probably killed people before, shot them most definitely, molded to grip a handgun.
He expected a slap, something to wake him up and force him to focus. Instead the hand started caressing him like one would a beloved pet they deeply cared about. His hazy mind, not associating the touch with danger, made him lean in, chase the only prove that he was real and alive. That he was flesh, not shadow. Sometimes Bruce needed the reminder, that Batman was not the only part of him that mattered.
His actions earned him a laugh, a brief and masculine one, more fond than cruel.
“I knew you would take it so much better in the morning"
Bruce knows that voice, he knows that voice.
“Talia said that you like to be difficult but the moment you give up, you are as docile as a baby fawn"
Jason said, because it had to be Jason, all the evidence could lead to one conclusion.
“What's the matter, B? Lost your tongue?"
It couldn't be Jason. Jason would never do something like this. Not his son, not his Jaylad.
“That would be a shame, considering the magic things you can do with it. You were too out of it last night for that, but Talia sure does love to talk about it"
But Bruce didn't know that now, did he? The son he buried was not the son that dug himself out.
The slap he was waiting for, finally came — Jason getting impatient, not willing to wait for his body to catch up. At least this one thing Bruce could said he knew about Jason, his boy was always in a race with time.
“I know you are awake. Open your fucking eyes"
He waits a few seconds, and when Bruce fails to perform the task, he quite literally forces them open. Jason pulls the skin above them and holds it until Bruce's body gets on with the program and stops forcing the eyelids down.
Sun blinds him for the first few moments, the light spilling in from a ceiling tall window. He catches a glimpse of Gotham's skylight, all the infrastructure looking freakishly small because of how high they are. He spend a whole night in this room, more if Jason kept him on a constant dose. Bruce has no idea what he could have possibly done in that time, what damage has been done.
His eyes wander to his left, where Jason is sitting. His assumption about his kidnapper not wearing clothes is not exactly true — Jason is dressed, wearing barely anything at all but still dressed. The piece he is wearing is all white, lace — virginal, like a mockery of a wedding dress. The corset hugs his ribs and the connected strips of material create an artwork of a necklace, leaving his pecs bare. He has white stockings on, his crotch barely covered by the same material, leaving nothing to the imagination. He's hard, painfully so, but seems to not be paying it any mind.
Jason smirks at Bruce's baffled expression and horrified eyes. He brings his other hand to Bruce's fingers, gently guiding him to touch the erection, letting out a soft sigh of pleasure and content. Bruce wants to yank his hand away from the dampening fabric, stained with precome, but he cannot do anything except raise his gaze to Jason's face. His smile is soft now, showing of the dimples Bruce used to kiss before wishing Jason sweet dreams. Back when Jason was good, back when he was still his son.
He doesn't know what to call him now. He cannot be his son, he cannot be his rapist. His heart aches to much to call him his mistake.
"You like it,dad? Talia said you would"
Bruce forces himself to move his finger tip, to tap out his single question in morse code. He tries very hard not to think about Jason's dick twitching at the small interaction. Tries not to think about the wetness he touches.
<WHY>
Jason tips his head back to laugh and his voice echoes through the empty luxury apartment. They must be in the Diamond District, a place where crime bosses keep their favorite whores.
“Something about your raging purity kink"
He shrugs his shoulders and laughs again. Jason looks at him but Bruce can see that he is focusing on a bygone memory, not on his misery. He must see it, he must be aware.
“Well she didn't exactly call it like that. But it sure did sounded like one"
He leans down, smiling softly. He looks deranged, he looks like he is in love.
Their faces are so close now, that Bruce can taste Jason's breath, hear him swallow down saliva. It shouldn't come as a surprise that he kisses him. But Jason's lips brushing lightly against his might as well have been a punch directly to the gut from Bane — it hurts, its a life ending blow.
Where did I go wrong? How could I failed him like this?
“Dont worry, daddy. Your secret is safe with me”
Bruce wants to cry, he thinks he is already crying.
He starts to tap out the code again. He knows what happened, but he needs to hear it from Jason. He wont live with himself if he condemns him without evidence.
What difference does that make? You can feel it Bruce, you know the truth.
<WHAT>
Jason send him a puzzled look but when Bruce doesn't look at him, focused on his task, he lets him finish.
<HAPPENED>
The one hand returns to caressing his face. Bruce wants to bite it off.
<LAST>
More kisses are places on his face before Jason gets bolder and starts to leave hickeys on his neck. Bruce already knows he wont look into the mirror until they fade.
<NIGHT>
Jason lays on his side, halfway on the mattress, halfway on Bruce. He puts his head in the crook of his neck, his hand on his heart. That's how they slept whenever Jason had nightmares, to comfort him that Bruce wasn't going anywhere, that they were partners for life. That they were family.
The memory is forever tainted, now they don't look like father and son but like lovers. Maybe even like both. Bruce doesn't know which is worse.
"I'm sorry you wont remember our first night, dad. I just couldn't help myself"
Jason doesn't sound like his son anymore, he sounds like death dressed in Bruce's most secret and dirty desires. Jason sounds like a curse, like a shame Bruce will have to carry wherever he goes, for the rest of his life.
"I dressed myself up for this, prepared everything in advance. I can be good for you Bruce, you just have to let me show you, let me prove myself"
Jason reaches for his flaccid cock, strokes him gently and with purpose. Its no use, unless he doses him in sex pollen Bruce wont get hard. He is not sure he ever will again, not without making up memories of the worst night of his life, one that he will never get to remember. Its no mercy, its hell.
Bruce is stuck in a cage and Jason is his jailer.
"We will have a lot of time to make up for it later. I only fucked myself on you but I never fucked someone if that helps. You can take that, B. That's the only pure thing left of me and I am giving it to you"
He can feel the fresh tears building up, falling onto his cheeks. Jason's fingers playing with his rim is the last thing he feels before he fades into background. He cannot stay there, he wont ever come back from it. Maybe if he doesn't remember it, he can act like it never happened at all.
Bruce is not here, and he wont come back until Jason leaves.