Teen Titans fanfic by Lady Melieka

Title: Captured

Alrighty, this is the first of quite a few TT fics I have, which I hope to put up on the net, and this is my fave one, just cos its' all about characters in the show, and there are no OC's in it at all, which is really good for me. But anyway, it's my fave. (Yeah, there are other reasons it's my fave)

Disclaimer: I do not own TeenTitans, (but oh, man, do I wish I did!) I will not be making any money for this.

This fic contains Slash, which is male/male stuff, and also contains paedophilia, to a degree. If that stuff doesn't appeal to you, or you do not think you are old enough to read this, please hit the back button. Thank you.

Also, I would like to apologise now for an overuse of the word communication, in the first part of this chapter.

Chapter 1

"Listen guys, you can't contact me anymore. I - I'll get punished."

Starfire gasped. "What kind of punishment would Slade inflict upon you, Robin, if he caught you communicating with us?" Robin gave a bitter little laugh, and held the communicator far enough away from his body for the other Titans to see that, from above the waist, at least, he was naked. They couldn't see any further down than that though. "He'll touch me again."

There was a noise on Robin's end. "I - I gotta go! Rescue me soon!" The connection closed, and Robin flung the communicator away from him as Slade entered.

"Robin. I have warned you about communicating with your friends." The contempt in that word was terrifying. Robin shuddered and lowered his head. "I…I know, Master, but they called me. I had to answer and tell them not to do it again. They're stubborn, they'd just keep trying , and would probably end up doing it when you're here. I wouldn't want them to interrupt you."

Slade nodded in satisfaction. This was the most Robin had spoken since his capture. Until now, his responses had been monosyllabic, yes, no, or nothing at all. His speech now showed he was still utterly loyal to his friends above all things, even his own safety. This was unfortunate, but couldn't be helped.

"My dear boy. Come to me." Robin swallowed, but obediently stood up and walked over to the enigmatic man. "Yes, Master?" he queried softly, barely a whisper.

"Release me, then remove your mask."

Robin's mask. His last defence against anyone getting close enough to ever try this again. To make him remove it was the ultimate degradation. Slade watched Robin's hand fly to his mouth, watched his perfect teeth bite down on the knuckle. There would be bruising if he bit any harder.

A quiet, "I have given you your instructions," and Slade watched Robin get to his knees, release the man's aching cock from it's material confines, and reluctantly raise his hands to his own face, trembling fingers unhooking the mask, lowering it to expose the upper part of his face, and the two things no one other than Slade had ever seen before. His eyes.

And what eyes they were! Surely, Slade reflected, no one in the universe had eyes as beautifully blue as these? It was Slade's most fervent desire to see those eyes darken with lust.

Pain, he had seen, reflected in those arctic orbs, arctic in colour and arctic when they turned on him. Oh, yes, there was anger too. Slade thought he wouldn't enjoy this nearly as much if the boy weren't angry.

"Now, Robin, take me in your mouth." The knuckle went in first. There would definitely be bruising. But still, better he bite his knuckle than Slade's tender flesh. When the finger was released, Robin wet his lips with his tongue, before shuffling forward, and taking Slade into his delectably pouting mouth.

The man exhaled loudly, feeling himself enclosed in that hot, wet space, Robin's tongue working on the underside of Slade's cock.

A soft reminder, "hands, Robin," and Slade thanked the foresight which had compelled him to strip the boy, whose frame shuddered in abject humiliation, even as his hands came up, eased Slade's clothing further down his legs, and began fumbling, teasingly at Slade's scrotum, the sensation being such as to cause the man to fist Robin's hair tightly in his left hand. The boy winced, but Slade, oblivious, only gripped more tightly, causing Robin to let Slade's cock slip from between his lips, to murmur, "Master, you…you're hurting me."

The loss of sensations on his cock registered before sounds, and Slade was about to punish Robin (he was considering a slap to those deliciously tight buttocks), then the boy's words sunk in. Realising he would get nothing more out of the boy unless he did so, Slade reluctantly eased his grip on Robin's gloriously silky black locks.

"Thank you Master." Robin whispered, hesitating a moment before slowly enveloping Slade's cock between his lips once more. Moments later, Slade's hand gripped tightly again, and Robin realised a little retaliation was needed to penetrate Slade's mind.

Slade gasped as Robin's teeth grazed along his cock, and he released the boy's hair, hands falling limply at his sides, as he erupted within Robin's mouth then pulled back. The boy choked, then shuddered and swallowed Slade's come, as he realised what he had intended as punishment had only given Slade more pleasure.

The unfairness of the situation rushed in on him suddenly, and he turned his face away, but not quickly enough, Slade saw Robin's lower lip wobble, saw him clench his eyes tightly shut, and saw the tears that spilt over anyway.

Slade smiled behind his mask. The boy was slowly crumbling under him. Robin would soon be completely his, mind, body and soul.

"We will leave it there for the moment, Robin. You will rest, and we shall continue later." His only response was a shaky inhale, which Slade knew disguised a sob. "Until later then, Robin."

It wasn't until Slade had left the room that Robin allowed himself to crawl over to his communicator, cradling it to his chest. "My friends will save me. I know they will!"

The room in which Robin was imprisoned was freezing cold. He had managed to ignore this, in spite of his nakedness, but now he felt it, in all its frigid glory.

Shivering, he thanked whatever fates had inspired Slade to put him in a room with a bed, no matter what implications that bed held.

Getting to his feet, he slowly walked over to, and got on the bed, drawing the blankets around him.

Presently his shivering stopped, his body warming. Now he looked over to where his mask lay, but decided against it. There was no point putting his mask back on.

He yawned, suddenly overwhelmingly tired. Remembering he was on a bed, he pulled his blankets around him properly, and lay down. Within a few moments, he was asleep, communicator still clutched tightly against his chest.

End of Chappie one