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He finally spots him, red costume contrasting nicely against the blue sky.
Ra's doesn't waste time and immediately gets up from his seat. He stalks his way towards this week's catches. Heroes are the worst type of bug, no matter how many you squash they never give up. No matter how hopeless, the resistance keeps trying to fight back, and they always end up here.
Some of them flinch back as he gets closer.
Usually, Ra's and the rest of the council stay seated during these meetings. All they have to do is make a choice between either executing the used-to-be-heroes or having them imprisoned to experiment on them later on. When they vote to execute someone, a flick of the wrist is all that's needed, shooters hidden on the sidelines take care of the problem for them.
Everything is crafted to give them an aura of untouchability. Show everyone how powerless the heroes they once looked up to are now. To make a point.
When one of them gets up is usually driven by personal vendettas. A bullet to the head might look powerful, but it's not very satisfying. Ra's remembers that first day, Luthor standing up and stopping in front of Superman. Snapping the alien's neck with his bare hands.
So he's not surprised when the men and women recoil as he passes. He's sure he would have enjoyed the fear on their faces if he hadn’t been preoccupied with more important matters.
Timothy's eyes were locked on Ra's from the moment he had spotted the boy, probably even before that. Like any good prey, he hasn't let the biggest predator out of his sight. Ra's is flattered.
He slows to a stop and looks down at Timothy. He doesn't flinch back like the others, his body is still, and his expression determined, almost challenging. His head is raised, screaming with his attitude rather than his words: 'If I have to die, I will die with dignity'.
If Ra's were anyone else, he might have been fooled by the display. He hears how the boy's breathing stutters on an inhale, sees how quickly his pupils move under his mask, searching Ra's face. He can smell the terror.
The detective should know he doesn't want him dead, but Ra's is not exactly known for his predictability. So Timothy stares at him, surely preparing himself to be slaughtered. What he would give to be inside his head right now. He wants to see him tremble, hear him beg.
"Detective."
The boy doesn't answer, only glares at him. His lips don't move, but Ra's can hear it anyway.
'I will die with dignity, I will die with dignity, I will die with dignity.'
Ra's raises his right hand, Timothy's eyes immediately snap to it. He sees him widen his stance, readying for a fight. Ra's could bet that the crunch of Superman's neck is echoing in the boy's head. These meetings are televised after all, the front steps of the Hall of Justice make for a great stage. He knows Timothy has watched many of his companions fall on the very same concrete where he stands.
He brings his hand slowly around the boy's neck, over the thin collar that they force all of their captives to wear. It serves two functions: turning off any superhuman power, and, if told to, it shocks the wearer with enough electricity to make them crumple to the ground. He feels Timothy swallow under his palm.
Ra's uses his thumb to raise the boy's chin and leans down to kiss him.
Timothy jumps, his cuffed hands shoot up, and stop against Ra's chest. He doesn't push Ra's away, even if the man is sure that's what every instinct is telling him to do. Timothy is smart enough to know it wouldn't end well. So he stays there, frozen, mouth clamped shut. That won't do. Ra's uses his fingers to push against the muscles of the boy's jaw until he's forced to let him in.
He has lived enough centuries that an act as simple as this should be meaningless to him by now. And yet he feels great pleasure in exploring the other's mouth, shoving his tongue inside, biting the boy's lips, and digging his nails into the boy's cheek when he threatens to bite back. It's less about the feeling itself and more about the knowledge that he can do whatever he pleases, take whatever he wants.
In his peripheral vision he can see some shocked faces, some angry ones. None of the so-called heroes move to help Timothy, too worried about their own well-being.
He's glad the public is watching.
He pulls back and enjoys the way Timothy pants, out of breath. The boy's previously curated composure is gone, now replaced by panicked confusion. His eyes are wide and searching. His mouth opens and closes, Ra's can imagine the million unspoken questions on his tongue. He strokes Timothy's jawline with his thumb, the boy's eyes flick down as if he could see the hand through his bones.
He can't fault the detective for not expecting this turn of events. He himself hadn't known that he desired the boy in this way until fairly recently. He always had an interest in Timothy, smart and cunning, made for so much more than he lets himself be. During the Bat's disappearance he had been close to bringing the boy to his side. But Timothy resembled Batman in too many ways, stubborn and blind to the true nature of the world. If he had gotten to him sooner, maybe things would have been different.
Sending his half-sister to rape the boy had been a practical decision at the time. The simplest way to create a new heir with the perfect genetic pool, the same way his nephew had been conceived. The disappointment when she had failed had been immense.
Now he sees how there was more behind that.
He keeps tabs on every aspect of his enemies -and allies'- lives, so he had come to hear about Timothy's new inclinations. His romantic conquests. The mental image of the boy getting in bed with another man was intriguing, picturing himself as the man was something else. He had thought a lot about it. What he'd do to him.
"You don't know how long I've waited for this."
He sees the moment the detective gets it. Ra's is not here to kill him. There's a fraction of a second where his face crumples, a single instant of true and delicious misery.
It's gone as quickly as it came. The detective scolds his expression back into something neutral. Or tries to, that unease never truly leaves him, lingers in his furrowed brows and clenched teeth. Ra's can see him breathe through his nose, probably trying to calm himself down.
The hint of that despair only makes Ra's want more.
He hooks his pointer and middle finger in Timothy's collar, pulling him by the neck until he takes a few steps forward, and he stands next to Ra's. He trails his hand from his throat to his collarbone, to his shoulder, his upper back, then lower. He rests it on his lower back and pushes Timothy to walk beside him, the boy doesn't try to hide his displeasure.
He leads him back to where the council sits. On the steps there are a few rows of concrete seats, simple and square-ish, Brutal architecture beautiful in its simplicity. They're tall and imposing, meant to resemble thrones.
Not every seat is filled, they're all busy people. Most weeks, only half, if not less, of the council is present.
He's glad the clown didn't show up today.
As they approach he can see that almost everyone is looking at the two of them. He's not the first to have taken a prisoner for himself, but it is a rare occurrence. He says nothing as he walks to his seat, challenging them to try and stop him. No one does.
Ra's takes his place, waits. Timothy stops to his right, unsure of what to do. Looking at Ra's for guidance and hating it. Ra's let's the moment linger.
Then he gestures down, to his lap.
"Sit."
Timothy's hand twitches, his eyes dart around to the other members. Ra's doesn't look, but he's sure they're still staring at him.
"I don't mind standing."
"I mind. Sit."
He opens his mouth as if to keep arguing, but after a moment his lips close tightly, forming an unhappy line. He knows it's futile.
Almost painfully slowly, Timothy inches towards the seat. He turns to the side, trying to keep his eyes on Ra's as he does so, and sits on the farthest edge of the man's knees. Ra's grabs him by the hips and pulls him in, until his weight rests completely on one of his thighs, and the boy's back is nestled between Ra's chest and an armrest.
He sees Timothy bite his lip, clearly unhappy to be manhandled like this. The boy's eyes glance back towards the other villains around them, then down to their tangled legs.
"I didn't know you were into this type of stuff, Ra's."
He recognizes the voice as Vandal Savage and chooses to ignore him in favor of caressing the side of Timothy's torso with his fingertips. The boy shivers.
"Who even is that guy?" Theo Adam asks at no one in particular.
"A bat." Slade Wilson answers. "If you're planning to let him live, you better be careful." That pulls a smile out of Ra's.
"Mh, yes. I would recommend avoiding any business talk around him," he warns the others. "He might not look it, but he's quite dangerous." Once upon a time, he too had underestimated the boy.
Timothy turns his head to look at him, eyes sharp. Ra's knows the boy was already plotting dozens of ways to use his predicament to gather informations. He's planning on having him distracted enough for it to not be a problem.
The other men soon loose interest in the two of them, choosing instead to keep going with the meeting.
Ra's brings his right hand to Timothy's thigh, squeezing the skin over the black spandex tights of his uniform. The boy cringes, his back presses away from the hand, but that only brings him closer to Ra's. Truly trapped.
Ra's other hand keeps trailing up and down Timothy's chest, his arm, his neck. He feels like he wants to kiss up his jaw, so he does. He tilts the boy's head upward and kisses a path from his clavicle to his chin. He hears and feels Timothy sharp inhales, they're getting quicker, edging on panicked. The boy is still trying to act somewhat composed, his body is so rigid that it feels like he could snap it in two like a twig.
He bites down on his neck around the collar. The blood tastes as good as the gasp Timothy chokes on, trying to stay quiet. The boy's hands move on instinct to claw at Ra's arms.
He unclenches his jaw and licks the blood spilling from his teeth marks. The sight of it makes his possessive side purr.
After that, he stays there, mouthing at the boy's neck as he watches the meeting proceed. There are a few other heroes whose sentences he's interested in. Mostly, he votes to kill them, not trusting them not to cause problems if left alive. Many members of the council are working on technologies to control the heroes, use them as mindless mercenaries who follow their orders. Ra's knows it won't be easy to create such a thing, he has learned through experience that most mind controls can be reversed, and he'd rather not let the heroes live just for them to regroup.
His vote gets outnumbered a few times. The one whom he truly cared if he lived or died -Hal Jordan- is deemed too dangerous and shot in the head. When his body hits the floor, Timothy flinches, eyes unmoving from the blood and brain matter splattered on the ground.
Ra's slowly moves the hand on the boy's thigh, he drags it inwards, squeezing once he's there. Timothy's knees jerk up, they want to close but can't, stopped by his hand. Ra's pulls them apart with ease.
"Don't-" Timothy says, clipped.
"Or what?" With his other hand he pins the boy to his chest.
Timothy looks away and stubbornly tries to close his legs again. Ra's lets him, then forces two of his fingers between his closed thighs and drags them against the boy's crotch. Timothy winces at the touch and somehow squeezes his legs even tighter.
"Are you giving me a taste of what's to come?" He moves his fingers fucking that warm space. "You're so tight." he whispers in Timothy's ear. The boy's legs fly apart. Ra's chuckles as he watches the detective's cheeks tinge pink in either embarrassment or bashfulness. He doesn't stop massaging his crotch.
"Could we-" he swallows "-Not here?" Timothy is looking at the television cameras not too far from their seats.
"I'm a generous man, detective. I believe true beauty has to be shared, and you're quite the sight."
"Don't you want me- just for you?" Ra's thinks the boy is trying to sound seductive, he has known him to be a great manipulator. But he sees the ruse for what it is, an attempt to try and delay the inevitable.
"You're already mine, detective."
Furthermore, the boy might not know it, but he's exactly where Ra's wants him to be.
He knows his attraction to Timothy isn't solely physical. He came to respect and disdain the kid in equal measures. When he blew up half of Ra's life's work, he couldn't help but want to strangle the little bird. He fantasized about ravishing the boy while he squeezed his hands around his neck, watching the life leave his eyes while he was still inside him. The struggling would cease, and he'd become malleable and open.
Now that the worst of the anger has subsided, he doesn't want to kill him anymore. He wants to destroy him, humiliate him. The child who thought he could beat the great Ra's al Ghoul, who dared defy him, now sits and writhes on his lap. He wants everyone to see, to know, what happens when they pick a fight with him.
He likes the banter he had with Timothy, he likes that he fights back, that he doesn't quit, that he's smart enough to keep up with him. Like this, he can put him back in his place again and again. Because he and Timothy are a lot of things, but equals is not one of them. And he wants him to know.
"Look at you." Ra's drags his hand to the edge of the boy's costume. He slides it up, lifting the shirt where his hand explores. Showing him off.
His attraction might not be all physical, but it surely doesn't hurt that he finds Timothy's body quite enticing.
His navel is flat, dense with muscles. Ra's hooks his thumb in the boy's belly button and, with his fingers, reaches all the way up across his hip. Ra's loves how easy it is to grab him, how narrow the boy's hips are, it makes his own hands look double their size.
Timothy tries to curve away from the touch, sucking in his stomach, pushing his hips back. It makes the boy's back arch.
He truly is quite a sight.
He dips his hand lower, under the hem of the tights. He takes the boy in his hand, strokes him a few times, then squeezes.
This time, Timothy doesn't manage to suppress the small yelp of surprise that comes out of his mouth. The boy's gaze snaps up, around them, and Ra's follows it. The meeting has been moving along, Ra's has lost any interest in it now that the only heroes left are all small fishes. He sees a few faces turned towards them, attention grabbed by the new sound. He can see Timothy looking towards Slade Wilson, and Slade staring back. He makes himself smaller, tries to shift until he's hidden by Ra's body. Ra's doesn't let him.
He goes back to playing with the boy, trailing his fingers up his penis, pressing against the slit of the head. He's not being particularly delicate, but Timothy's body doesn't seem to mind, it doesn't take long before he's hardening in his hand.
The boy claws at Ra's arms again. The golden cuffs around his wrists clink as he pulls against the restraints.
Ra's knows the cuffs are meant for the other prisoners, any bat would be able to slip them off in a second. It's not really the metal itself that keeps Timothy's hands together, but the knowledge that even if he got out of them, nothing would change. That there might be repercussions.
Ra's wouldn't mind if he took them off, he quite likes to think of what punishment he'd inflict on the boy. He's sure it'll come up later, once the boy is comfortable, or desperate enough to try and escape.
In the meantime he keeps working up the boy under his tights. Timothy squirms under his touch, his knees jerk up again, trying to stop him, or hide. Ra's uses his other hand to push them down and apart.
"Let them see."
Timothy has closed his eyes. He shakes his head no.
When he feels that the boy is close, he slows down and pulls his hand away. Once Timothy has regained some composure, he goes back to playing with him. Edging him over and over until he has gone boneless on top of Ra's.
Now, when he touches him, he feels Timothy chasing his hand instead of cowering from it. He knows all the boy wants is for it to end. Sweat dripping down his forehead, cheeks flushed, legs open. Ra's wouldn't mind having him like this all the time.
There's a sick sort of pleasure in knowing that he's soiling what the Bat holds most precious. He knows for a fact Bruce is watching, he's too paranoid not to.
"Do you think Batman is enjoying the show?"
Timothy must know it too.
His body jerks. The fight that had left him suddenly comes back. He shoves Ra's chest, tries to knock his hand away with his elbows, and pushes himself off of him. Ra's grabs him by the hips and shoves him down, this time not on his thigh but on his crotch. Now, when the boy wiggles to try and escape, it makes him grind against Ra's's erection. He slips his hand back inside Robin's pants and jerks him roughly. Timothy tries to escape again, and Ra's brings him down again. All he's doing is making himself bounce on Ra's's cock. He seems to realize so as well and stops moving, resigned.
Ra's kisses his neck, teases the head of his penis. Timothy slumps against him, breathing heavily. His hands clench, making the leather of his gloves creak, and his boots move, trying to find purchase against the seat. The meeting is about to be over anyway, so Ra's will let the detective have this small mercy.
The moment the orgasm hits Timothy, Ra's bites down in the same spot he had before. A small -ah- is the only sound the boy makes before he turns to bury his face in the man's chest. Ra's let's him hide this time, it's not where his attention is drawn anyway. Timothy's hips jolt forward a few times, his legs trembling where he sits. Cum splatters on his stomach and pools on the ridges of his abs.
Ra's keeps touching the sensitive penis, pleasure surely turning into discomfort if not outright pain. He loves the way Timothy squirms.
He pulls his hand away and brings it up to the boy's mouth. The request is clear, but the boy turns even more to the side, ignoring Ra's. Stubborn. He grabs his chin with his other hand and forces his jaw to open, shoving his cum covered fingers inside.
"It's your mess to clean." he whispers.
He feels Timothy trying to bite down. The glare he levels at Ra's is the angriest he has ever seen the boy. He moves his fingers inside his mouth, presses them on his tongue until they're covered in saliva and clean of semen. Then he pushes them further until Timothy chokes on them. He fucks his mouth with them, captured by the way pink lips drag over his knuckles when he pulls out.
By the time he's satisfied, Timothy has scratched at Ra's arms so fiercely that he was able to draw blood. When he lets go of the boy's face, he coughs and gags, he twists his body out of the way as if he's about to throw up. He only manages to dry heave to the side, spit drips down his chin, giving him a beautifully feral look.
Ra's grabs a handkerchief and cleans up his hand as he watches Timothy take big lungfuls of air. After the boy has started to breathe normally again, he stays there, eyes on the ground. Timothy swallows before he grabs the seat's backrest with his cuffed hands and uses it as leverage to turn around, this time facing Ra's completely. He doesn't get off his lap, only sits so his back is to the armrest.
"I hate you." he seethes.
The wrecked sound of his voice makes Ra's want to fuck his mouth until he cries. He could, if he wanted to, grab Timothy by the back of the head and push him down onto his painfully hard erection. He thinks about bending him over the seat, spreading him open, letting everyone see, join if they wanted to. But that can come later.
He has other plans for their first time, this was merely an appetizer.