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“Are you nervous?” Mark asks, squeezing Dick’s fingers where they stand on the threshold. The fading sunlight makes the leaves glow in shades of orange and yellow, the sprinklers ticking away on the front lawn. The street is surprisingly quiet, giving the pair of teenagers a brief moment of respite before they head inside. 

Dick grins, half-excited, and ducks in to peck a kiss to the man’s cheek. “Sure. But it’s no Flaxan invasion.” 

Mark snorts, runs his fingers back through his hair. “Is meeting my parents really that terrifying?” 

“Well,” Dick hedges, and Mark winces. His smile grows. “Your dad is Omni-Man.” 

“I would’ve thought you of all people would get superhero dads,” Mark retorts, and it’s Dick’s turn to wince. 

“A little too well, I think.” When Mark looks a little concerned, eyes flicking to the closed door, Dick squeezes back around his fingers. “I’m excited, Mark. I’ve wanted to meet your family ever since you told me about them.” 

“Yeah,” Mark says, but he sounds hesitant still. “I’m sorry my mom couldn’t make it. Real estate conference, you know?” 

Dick rubs his thumb over his boyfriend’s knuckles. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of chances to meet her later. I’m planning on sticking around a while, you know,” he adds, flashing a bright grin that makes a rosy tint rise on Mark’s cheeks. “Unless your dad’s totally crazy.” 

Mark laughs sharply, and looks down at his shoes. “Hopefully he’ll be on his best behaviour. He knows how much you mean to me.” 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Dick soothes, tucking himself into Mark’s side, slipping one hand into his jeans pocket. “Besides, I’m sure I can handle anything he can throw at me. I’m light on my feet.” 

Mark chuckles, sucking down a deep breath before he reaches for the doorknob. 

The evening passes uneventfully. Nolan’s dressed in a simple henley and jeans when he greets them in the kitchen; it’s always jarring to see him out of his trademark red-and-white. He almost looks like a completely different person, Dick muses, watching him as Mark fetches beers. 

They flip steaks on the grill, chatting about the upcoming college semester, and Dick’s major. About vigilante work, including the recent crop of convict escapees intent on destroying downtown Detroit. Nolan listens, interjecting hums and nods as the meat cooks. He asks about Dick’s GPA and how far he has to travel for school. Even laughs at Dick’s joke about superflight being cheaper than the bus. 

It’s nice. Casual, friendly. Mark unwinds the longer they chatter, leaned back on the retaining wall as Dick fills the silence with his natural charm. The tension slides off him, gaze flicking between his boyfriend and father whenever Dick glances in his direction. He’s even got a tentative smile by the time Nolan plates up the steaks and ushers them inside. 

He takes the head of the table, and good-naturedly waves Dick into the seat on his left. Mark hesitates a moment, freezing up before he takes the seat on Nolan’s other side, across from Dick. He tries to reassure him with a surreptitious smile, but Dick’s not sure Mark sees it. 

The conversation falls into a natural lull, broken only by the scrape of cutlery on china as they eat. 

“So, what’s the special occasion, boys?” Nolan asks, sawing into his steak. 

“Well,” Dick says sheepishly, and glances across the table at his boyfriend, heart warming at the sight of his tentative grin. “We’ve been together a while now, and we thought it was about time I met your family.” 

Nolan arches a brow, indulging him. “You’ve been over here to meet us before.” 

Dick flushes, glancing at Mark, who glances down. “Well, yes. But we wanted to do something more… official.” 

Nolan blinks at him, swallowing his half-chewed mouthful. The room chills by a few degrees. “Official how?” 

“Dick and I are,” Mark says, stumbling over the words. His eyes haven’t risen from his plate, “getting pretty serious.” 

Nolan’s large hand lands on Dick's arm, pinning his wrist to the table with its weight. Dick jumps, surprised, but can’t pull his arm back before fingers are wrapping over his pulse. Doesn’t want to make a scene, as those digits encircle him. 

“Getting serious?” Nolan repeats, and the bluntness in that tone draws Dick’s gaze to him. His pale eyes are severe, steely in their coldness where they pin Mark to his seat. 

Dick’s not sure what he’s said, but from the way Mark’s shoulders are climbing to his ears, he thinks he’s misstepped. He tries to salvage the moment. “Yes, Mr Grayson. Mark and I have been dating for a while now and-” 

Dating,” Nolan scoffs. The sound of it drives a stake through Dick’s heart. He glances to Mark as the hand around his arm tightens to this side of bruising. 

“We are,” Mark confirms. It sounds like he’s trying to bolster himself in the face of his father’s fury. Dick wonders what could have possibly set Nolan off, and for a sickening moment, he wonders if his father knows Mark’s into guys. 

“How long?” 

Dick gently tries to twist his arm free, and unease crawls through him when Nolan doesn’t budge. He looks to his boyfriend for help. 

Mark’s glaring at his plate now, not meeting either of their stares. He looks so tense. “Does it really matter?” he mutters, and pain entirely unrelated to how Nolan’s slowly crushing Dick’s arm flashes through his chest. 

But that crushing hold is becoming unbearable, and Dick’s at a loss for where it went wrong.

“Mr-” Dick gasps, and yelps when Nolan’s grip tightens another millimetre. His hand claps over the man’s, nails sliding ineffectively over skin. “Mr Grayson, you’re hurting me.” 

“This one?” Nolan says, an indignant amusement to his tone. He shakes Dick by the wrist, a spike of pain shooting all the way up to his elbow as he lurches forward to relieve the flare. Cutlery clatters to the floor, plates scattering as Dick sweats and tries not to jostle his captive limb. 

Nolan isn’t finished, isn’t even looking at Dick. His gaze is on Mark, one thick brow raised in derision. 

“A whole planet of pets, and you choose this one?” 

“Dad, don’t,” Mark pleads, brows pinched over those warm brown eyes. He’s tense, wood beginning to splinter beneath his palms where they’re wrapped around the table’s edge. “Let go of him.” 

“This one,” Nolan repeats, and tosses Dick’s limb back to the table. He shouts when his elbow strikes the wood, curling in on himself to cradle his aching arm. He can feel reflexive tears beading on his lashes, his pulse rabbiting in his ears as Nolan waves a dismissive hand at him. “He’s handsome, I’ll grant you that, but Mark - you can’t even breed him.” 

Fury sparks in Mark’s gaze as he pushes to his feet, hands ringing loud on the wood. “I don’t want to breed him. He’s not a pet.” 

Dick glances between them, breaths thin. “Mark, what is he-” 

“Not a pet?” Nolan says, a dark note to his tone. “What else is he here for?” 

“He’s a hero!” Mark blurts. “Like me, he’s a hero like me, Dad.” 

“Don’t be stupid, son,” Nolan chastises. “There’s no one like us. They’re just animals playing dress-up.” 

Dick’s head is spinning. He must have misheard, the conversation running away from him. He glances blankly between the pair of them, shying away from the blistering heat in those glowers. 

“I understand you wanting to keep him close,” Nolan says thinly, like he’s being forced into some sort of compromise by Mark’s unruly behaviour. “But you need to consider his use to Viltrum when choosing a pet. He can’t carry any children, any new Viltrumites-”

“I don’t need him to,” Mark bites. “Dad, he’s not a pet, he’s my boyfriend.” 

“Don’t be irrational, Mark. He’s just another human. You can’t get attached to them like this, you’ll only hurt yourself.” 

The tears come unbidden, springing to Dick’s eyes at the derision in that tone. The disregard for Dick, like he’s not good enough for Mark. Like he can’t possibly measure up to Invincible. 

Mark shakes with his fury. “You’re not listening to me.” 

“He’s pretty!” Nolan says, exasperated, flinging the compliment at Dick like a slap. “But, Mark, he’s human. He’s going to die, and you won’t even remember his face in fifty, one hundred, five hundred years. You can’t let yourself get attached, you have to keep them in their place.” 

“What are you talking about,” Dick gasps, and Nolan’s stern gaze flicks to him. Dick shoves to his feet, backing away from the table. Putting distance between them as Nolan rises to his feet. “I’m not-” 

“You see?” Nolan gestures to him with a roll of his eyes, moustache bristling as he strides towards Dick, advancing inexorably. Adrenaline spikes at his approach, danger blaring like klaxons in Dick’s ears. “You don’t teach them their proper place, and they get uppity, Mark. They get unruly.” 

There’s a grip around the base of Dick’s skull before he can blink, squeezing sharply enough that Dick sees white. Heat flares down his spine, knees buckling to the tile as his nerves fizzle with static. He shouts at the pain, hands lifting to grip at Nolan’s wrist, breaths wet and terrified. 

“I thought I taught you better,” Nolan murmurs, disappointment stark. “I thought I taught you to be responsible-” 

“Stop hurting him!” Mark bellows, horrified, and something behind Dick’s ears crackles. 

Terror lodges thick in his throat, tears spilling as he arches and writhes in the man’s unyielding grip. Dick can’t feel his pulse anymore, lungs heaving as he cries and kicks at the tile, heels skidding uselessly. 

“If you’re not going to be a responsible owner, you’re not going to be allowed to keep any pets at all, Mark,” Nolan tells him, and Dick wails, nails desperate where they claw at that invulnerable wrist. 

“Mark, please,” he begs, vision blurring with his tears. He can’t draw in enough air. “Please, please, Mark, please- ” 

“Fine!” Mark snaps, expression tight. Nolan doesn’t shift, but nothing else shatters, and Dick holds his breath. 

Mark looks like it pains him to say it, something akin to disgust in those dark eyes. 

“Fine, I’ll fucking breed him,” Mark spits, and Dick can’t breathe around his hope. “Will that make you happy, Dad?” 

There’s a moment of contemplation, as Dick pants and sucks in sharp, stinging breaths. Then the tile is colliding with his knees as he’s tossed forward, folding to catch himself with his arms. 

He buries his face against the cold tile, unable to curb his sobbing as relief drowns him. Sensation fizzles down the back of neck, a reminder of just how close he’d come to having his skull shattered by the meta. 

“Show me,” Nolan says, and Dick’s breath stops in his lungs. 

“What?” Mark says stiffly, the words cumbersome. He looks hesitant, wrongfooted as Dick’s gaze slides up to the man above them both. 

“I want you to show me you mean it,” Nolan expounds slowly, like he’s teaching Mark an important lesson. Like he’s waiting for Mark to flinch, to refuse. To give him a reason to bring his foot down on Dick’s spine and end this little game of chicken. 

Mark’s conviction sounds paperthin, even to Dick. “Of course I mean it.” 

“Then show me how you breed him.” There’s a boot against Dick’s backside in the next moment, shoving him towards Mark. He sprawls forward with a shout of surprise and pain, nose smarting against Mark’s boot as he picks himself up. 

“What, right here?” Mark sounds repulsed, and Dick chances a glance upwards. He looks pale, fists clenched at his sides as he holds his father’s glare. 

“Yes,” Nolan scoffs, and gestures to Dick. He’s unashamed to say he flinches, ducking down against Mark’s shin. “Strip him down, put him over the couch and use him for the only thing he’s good for.” 

The cold silence from Mark has Dick’s gaze rising, brow pinching. He knows his boyfriend. Mark wouldn’t even consider-  

“Then will you leave it alone?” Mark asks quietly, not even glancing down when Dick lets out a weak noise. 

Nolan is unflinching. “When you can prove to me that you understand his place in this house.” 

When those brown eyes, darker than Dick ever remembers them being, fall to him, Dick kicks back. Tries to put some distance between them, knees knocking against the tile. 

He should know better by now, how quick Mark is. How inescapable, when he wants to be. He’s seen him take down enough threats to know just how awe-inspiring his powers can be. 

Dick feels nothing but fear when Mark pushes off the tile, scrambling to get his feet under him. Nolan doesn’t even move, content to watch Dick try to lunge for a weapon, a shield, anything. Satisfied by the way Mark seizes a handful of his shirt when Dick turns his back, hauling him up as if he were scruffing a disobedient puppy. 

He has the decency to set Dick firmly back on his feet, knees aching with the jarring force, before he rips him bare. 

The seams of his shirt give way, tearing down the sleeves and the sides as Dick bleats a weak protest. The cold air on his chest in a shock, has him curling in to cover himself as Mark tosses the tatters aside. 

He looks down at his palm after a moment, expression stricken before it hardens. When he strides forward again, lifting off the floor, Dick matches it with a few paces backward. 

“Mark,” he pleads, and jumps when his hips hit the back of the sofa. 

He glances behind him, casting about for some sort of weapon as he stalls. Mark’s eyes are pained, clinging to a farce of resolve. But even just that hint of emotion, of sympathy has Dick scrambling to appeal to his better senses. 

“Don’t do this,” Dick begs. Mark’s hand flashes out to grasp his wrist, reigniting the bruise his father left behind and drawing a hiss to Dick’s lips. Still, he forces himself to meet that hard gaze, even as tears brim. “Mark, please. You don’t have to be like your father.” 

The agony that rips across his face is plain as day, has Dick’s chest splintering at the self-hatred there. For the barest moment, he thinks he might have made an impact. 

Then Nolan scoffs, loudly, and Dick’s arm ignites with pain as Mark twists his wrist and spins him in a tight circle. 

He shouts at the flare, back arching to offset it as Mark shoves him down across the back of the couch. His thighs press to the back of Dick’s ass, pinning him to the upholstery as Dick gasps and tries to roll free. His shoulder aches at the angle, forcing him back into line as Dick sobs. 

“Mark,” he whimpers, and cries when a hand dips into the waistband of his pants. “Mark, please-” 

“I’m sorry, Dick,” Mark croaks. His pants are torn down to his knees, tears spilling hot onto Dick’s cheeks as he claws at the cushions with his free hand. “I’m so sorry.” 

Fingers dig bruises into his hips, holding him steady as the hand around his wrist squeezes tighter for the barest second. Dick winces and withers into the leather. 

“Please don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be,” Mark pleads softly. Dick feels hatred sear through his chest as he’s released. Not that he can go anywhere, with Mark’s palm pressed in a low threat over his tailbone. 

He feels unbearably vulnerable, naked and cold, pinned by the weight of his boyfriend behind him and his father’s eyes above. Dick’s hands clench on the cushions, throat tight as he hears Mark tug the zipper of his jeans down. 

“Talk to him,” Nolan reminds him, and he feels Mark tense behind him. Dick can’t summon enough indignation at being referred to like he’s too stupid to understand their conversation. “He’s yours to command. Remind him.” 

Mark ignores him, spitting quickly into his palm and slicing his cock in a smooth motion. Dick tries to summon sense, a plea rising on his lips that dies as Mark lines up and forces himself inside. 

It’s a stretch, Dick’s body protesting the intrusion despite Mark’s considerately glacial pace. There’s no give in the way he pushes into Dick, through him. Like he could cripple him with a misaligned thrust of his hips. 

“Mark,” Nolan prompts sternly. 

“You’re mine,” Mark murmurs, gasping as he sheaths himself inside Dick’s body. He can’t find the strength to do more than whine weakly as Mark presses his forehead between Dick’s shoulder blades. Summoning his resolve as he waits for Dick to relax. “You’re mine, Dick, all mine.” 

It’s said softly, more a prayer than a declaration. It sounds like every other time Mark’s said it to him, whispered against the shell of his ear on the bleachers at school, or kissed into his pulse against the lockers. 

Dick hates hearing it, here, now. Said to him when he’s on the cusp of shattering, struggling to breathe when Mark pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in. Cheeks burning to match the friction as Mark begins to set a steady pace. 

They’ve made love before. Once in the back of William’s car at a high school party, Dick gripping the headrest as he’d ridden Mark, basking in the bliss that had spread across his reddening cheeks. 

And once, in Dick’s college dorm room, the old springs of his mattress drowned by the moans falling from their lips as Mark had shoved them across the sheets with his strength. 

This isn’t like either of those times. This isn’t making love, and Dick feels childish for even thinking of it like that. Can’t reconcile the soft, ravenous, awestruck wonder of that Mark with the cold man above him. Can’t compare those gentle, sweet touches with the ache in his hips and the chaffing where his stomach meets the couch. Dick’s own cock is half-hard, stirring feebly each time Mark accidentally brushes his prostate in his race to finish. Not nearly enough pleasure to offset the revulsion that roils through Dick’s core with every harried thrust. 

The sofa’s torn out from under them in the next moment, tossed to one side of the living room as Dick yelps, free-wheeling in its absence. 

He doesn’t fall though, because in the next moment there’s a firm hand around the back of his skull, holding him up. 

A cock is forced down his throat, muscle parting around the inexorable slide. It’s painful, his soft wet tissue no match for the unforgiving length of Nolan’s member. Dick chokes, tears springing once again to his eyes as he braces against the meta's thigh. 

That hand is an ever-present threat, a reminder of how fragile Dick is as he’s manoeuvred back and forth, forced to take them at both ends. Used by two metahumans who could shred him in a heartbeat, by whim or accident. 

It makes his heart gallop frantically in his chest, slamming against his sternum in a dizzying blur, tears spilling as his throat closes on the obstruction and his hips ache with the pressure of Mark’s grip. 

He wonders, vaguely, distantly, why Mark isn’t putting an end to this. Why he’s letting Nolan use him, when Dick thought… He supposes he thought they had something special. He thought he meant more to Mark. 

It hurts, to realise Mark believes Nolan’s backwards talk more than he let on. 

Dick disassociates, as much as he’s able. Lets the motions and the force blur into a low thrum of pain, body going slack and pliant in their grips. He’s not a person to them, not a lover or a boyfriend. Just a pet, a pair of holes to take pleasure from and discard. To be used, without care for his well-being. 

Mark comes first, shuddering as he presses deep, warmth flooding Dick as he spills inside. He holds Dick’s hips tight to his own, ragged breaths spiralling across his back when he slumps forward to recover. 

Nolan grips the base of his skull tight, tilts Dick’s head back to punch into the back of his throat with each thrust. Spur him to gag around the length, vision blurring as he gasps for air and closes tight around the head of his cock. 

“That’s it, Mark,” the man rumbles, pausing to groan as he uses Dick’s mouth. “You’ve got to breed them early, show them their place.” 

When he comes, it feels like a flood, Dick held tight to the base of Nolan’s cock. He swallows as much as he can manage, wincing at the string that escapes from the corner of his stretched lips to drip to the couch beneath them. 

Nolan releases him when he’s done, all of Dick’s weight cascading forward in the absence of support. Mark shouts in surprise behind him, toppling forward to catch Dick as they go to their knees, still buried in his ass as an arm loops under his waist to hold him upright. 

He almost wishes Mark had let him faceplant into the tile. Maybe the concussion would erase the bruised feel of his throat, the slick squelch as Mark withdraws. His knees throb where they’re pressed against the tile, thighs shaking as come drips down them. 

“Hmm,” Nolan surveys him distantly, cocking his head as he hovers a few feet above Dick, tucking himself away. “He makes for a good pet. You should bring him back again sometime.” 

Dick flinches, curling around Mark’s arm as his boyfriend pulls him close. Voice hushed when he mumbles, “Thanks, Dad.” 

He feels the whoosh of air when Nolan departs, drying some of the come on his thighs with its chill as Dick shakes. He can’t stop it, the tremble growing as it spreads through his limbs, even as Mark carefully manoeuvres him into his lap, one hand tipping Dick’s forehead into the joint of his neck and shoulder. 

It’s just another reminder of how fragile he is, how weak, compared to these men who can shred through humans like they’re wet tissue. Who can use him and break him, and move onto another in the time it takes Dick to recognise how unimportant he truly is to them. 

Mark doesn’t apologise. It’s a small relief; Dick’s not sure he could summon the energy to lie to his boyfriend right now, to soothe him with the assurances that it’s fine, that they’re fine, that he’s fine.  

The tears come as fast as the tremors did, spilling up his throat and brimming over his cheeks as Dick clings to Mark’s shirt. Cries, hard and desperate, into his shoulder as Mark cradles him close.