#drugged

[whumpster-dumpster]

you often see that when whumpee gets drugged it's usually with a downer. i raise you: whumpee gets drugged with an upper.

caretaker rescuing them and being horrified that whumpee is *giggling and overjoyed* despite the horrible state their body is in from the torture.

Ooo, that is eerie, I like it!

[just-here-for-the-whump]

White Collar 1x10 Vital Signs

[hurtcomfortguaranteed]

In The Sentinel 2x12, Blair is unwittingly drugged with a powerful hallucinogen that sends him into a violent, disoriented frenzy. Jim manages to calm him down before the overdose kills him.

[whumpdoyoumean]

The people have spoken! This year's Whump March Madness winner is...

Drugged!!!

Thank you for another great year!

Here are 6 excellent druggings for you to watch (or rewatch):

~Stranger Things, 3x06

~The Man From UNCLE (2015)

~White Collar, 1x10

~Endeavour, 4x02

~Constantine, 1x03

~9-1-1: Lone Star, 3x12

[envysparkler]

In a world where Batman never joined the Justice League, Superman rescues Robin in Ethiopia.

Batman arrives at the exploded warehouse, too late as usual, but Superman is there. Superman tells Batman he took Jason to Themyscira to heal from his wounds, and Batman demands to be taken there as well.

In this universe, Batman has a strong suspicion of the Justice League. His demand for the League to stay out of Gotham is half-fear, since the League is full of gods and aliens that he cannot hope to beat in a fair fight. To make matters worse, Dick left Gotham for Bludhaven, took a Kryptonian name, and refuses to talk to him.

Of course, in response to Batman's standoffishness, the Justice League doesn't much like him either.

Themyscira is Not Happy that Batman's there. They're happy to heal Jason, but an adult man who radiates hostility? They only let in Batman on Superman's word, and Wonder Woman demands Batman disarm completely and follow all their rules. So Bruce is left weaponless on an island of people far stronger than he is and are predisposed to despise him.

When Jason wakes up fully, he gets into old arguments with Bruce and screams at him to leave him alone. Bruce is forcibly escorted out and more than one person comments on his parenting skills.

Things come to a head at some festival-type thing that Bruce is forced to attend. He drinks something that makes him feel very fuzzy, snapping the razor thin control over his panic, and has a breakdown. Wonder Woman calls for Superman, but that doesn't help, Bruce just begs Superman not to take Jason away from him like he took Dick.

Bruce passes out. When he wakes up the next day, he runs immediately to Jason's room--his heart stops when he sees Superman there. Clark gently asks him how much he remembered of the previous night and Bruce is unable to fully hide his fear. Clark promises he won't take Jason away. Jason, for all his snappishness, is very alarmed at the idea of being taken away from Bruce, and clings tight to his father, hissing at anyone who tries to separate them.

Diana apologizes for their mistaken assumptions and his treatment here, and Clark finally flies them both back to Gotham for Jason to complete his treatment there. Bruce really only calms back down when he gets to the Cave and confirms that there are no Justice League members anywhere near Gotham.

The next day, there's a knock on the door. Dick looks uncertain of his welcome, but Clark was very insistent he show up to correct some misunderstandings. Bruce hugs him tight and refuses to let go of either of his sons for quite some time.

[chloessleepystories]

First Time

“... And there’s plenty of snacks in the fridge here, and a pizza in the freezer in case you get hungry,” said Mrs Thompson (“call me Mary”) as we finished the tour. “Now have you got all that?”

“Pajamas at 8, lights off at 8:30, and then pizza and TV until you get home,” I recited, and grinned. “No problem.”

It really wasn’t a problem. It was a nice house, clean, and looked like an easy gig. I hadn’t met the father yet, but Mary seemed friendly. Smiling, and a toucher—a hand on the shoulder to look into my eyes, a touch on the back to guide me from room to room ...

“You really are a very pretty girl,” she said suddenly, as she leaned against the kitchen counter—almost as if she had just noticed. “Has anybody mentioned that before?”

I blushed, a little, ducking my eyes. “It’s come up,” I murmured. Truth was, people were always mentioning it, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I was small and cute and blonde, but I hadn’t done anything to be those things. I was more proud of my grades and my writing—things I’d worked at—but people didn’t often seem to see that.

“Oh, listen to me, first I’m talking your ear off, and now I’m embarrassing you. I’m just going to get something to drink. All this talking has got me all dried out!” She rummaged in the fridge and poured herself some lemonade while I looked around the kitchen. I had the nagging sense of something off, or something ... missing? What had I missed? Something in the house tour?

“Do you drink?”

“What?”

“I asked if you drink, honey ... Were you somewhere else for a second?”

“I wasn’t—I mean I don’t—” I tried to answer two questions at once and got confused. “No, I’m not old enough,” I said. “I just turned 18.”

“Oh, an innocent!” she crowed (which I thought was a little odd, as she probably wouldn’t have wanted her new babysitter to confess to being an alcoholic!). “Then you’ll just have some of this lemonade. It’s very good, my husband makes it himself. Have this glass, I haven’t drunk any yet.”

I was a little off balance, and flustered, so without thinking I accepted the glass and took an obedient swallow. I must have needed it more than I thought because I gasped as it hit the back of my throat. “Mmm, it’s good!”

“Isn’t it? Let’s see now, where was I ... Oh yes, another glass for me ...”

I sipped the lemonade again. It was tart, and sweet, and something else I couldn’t quite name. For all I knew, the couple could make lemonade with vodka—I wouldn’t have recognized the taste! It was very good, though, whatever it was, and I was suddenly greedy for more, lots more ... I guzzled half the glass in seconds.

A warmth spread through me almost immediately, my muscles relaxing just a bit. I felt myself smiling easily, and a little sillily. Sillillilly? A silly, dopey sort of smile.

“Oh my, I guess you did like that. Here, let me take the glass for you, sweetheart, don’t want you to drop it ...”

My vision was kind of swimmy and I felt kinda ... slow, and relaxed ... Happy! I liked it! I struggled to focus on Mary’s eyes again as she touched my arm.

“It’s so sweet, the way girls are raised to want to get along with others ...” she purred, stroking my hair. “From such a young age, taught to agree, to serve, to play along ... to do as they’re told ... And even taught to like it! To want it! To want to be a good girl ...”

Her hands were on my hips, and she was leaning over me, her face very close.

“You like doing what you’re told, don’t you, Chloe? You like being a good girl?”

And without waiting for an answer, she kissed me! Her lips were warm, and soft, and sent shockwaves through my system. My heart was racing! And I—I melted. There’s no other word for it. I sagged into her, pouring myself into her mouth and dripping down the front of her body. I offered no resistance as she opened my mouth with her tongue and began to explore the inside ... On the contrary, I sucked on her tongue hungrily!

I had never dreamed that my first kiss would be with an older woman ...

“Oh, you are delicious,” she said huskily. “It feels so good to obey, doesn’t it ... Feels so good to do what you’re told, without thinking ...”

“Uh huh,” I whimpered, leaning my head back as she nipped at my throat.

The palms of her hands were warm on my stomach, my sides, as she explored under my tee shirt. “Let’s just take this off, honey, you don’t want that in the way ... And you don’t want this bra anymore either, do you ...”

I acquiesced meekly ... Anything to keep her touching me, kissing me, murmuring into my ear ...

“Mmmmm ... What beautifully perky breasts you have, sugar! And with such big fat nipples ... I know these must be extra sensitive, huh?”

I moaned as she stroked them, pinched them, cupping my boobs in her warm hands as she teased my nipples. I couldn’t think straight! Couldn’t think of anything except that I would do whatever she wanted as long as she kept making me feel like this ...

“Well well well ...” came another voice, and my eyes flew open at his deep baritone, and the knowing smirk in his voice. “And who do we have here?”

Mary moved fluidly behind me, still stroking my skin here, there, and everywhere. I was topless in his kitchen, his wife’s hands all over me, and he didn’t even seem surprised. She nibbled my ear and pressed her tits into my back as she presented me.

“It’s our babysitter, honey! Look!”

“Another babysitter? You know, one of these days ...”

“Sshhh. Chloe, this is Adam. Adam, Chloe here is feeling very good right now. She feels like a horny little slut, don’t you honey?”

“Uh huh ...” I whimpered. Any ability to resist, or even to think straight, was dripping out of my drooling cunny.

“And look at these beautiful perky tits with big fat nipples, they’re so sensitive ...” She kneaded them, showing them off to Adam. My brain was buzzing, I was barely aware of anything beyond the unending pleasure.

“Why, I bet someone who plays with these could get you to do almost anything, couldn’t they?” she cooed.

I’d never really thought about it ... But it seemed she was right!! I couldn’t stop staring at her husband’s bulge, and I knew whatever either of them asked of me, I would willingly do it ...

He stepped forward. “Feeling needy?”

“Needy,” I nodded.

“Submissive ...”

“Sub- uhh ... Submissive ...”

“Compliant ...”

Another pinch, and my knees almost gave out. “Compliant,” I gasped. “Obedient. Desperate ...”

“Good girl.”

I moaned.

“Strip,” he said.

I hurried to comply, struggling out of my jeans. Mary helped me from behind, pulling them down to my ankles as Adam held me pinned with his eyes. He cupped my face with one hand, stroking my cheek with his thumb. I looked up at him, dazed.

“You’re going to suck my cock today,” he murmured matter-of-factly, and as soon as he said it I knew it was true. “Have you ever sucked cock before?”

“No sir,” I whispered meekly.

“That’s all right. I’ll teach you to be my little Chloe Cocksucker.” He slipped his thumb gently between my lips. “Suck.”

I closed my eyes and gently suckled on his thumb, only dimly aware of his wife’s hands stripping my panties down my legs. I was completely nude, sandwiched between these two fully clothed older people, and I felt so submissive. So docile. So eager to serve.

And it felt so right.

“On your knees now.”

I sank down, still blissfully suckling on his thumb. His wife’s hands were on my breasts again, playing with my nipples, calling them my “slave buttons.” I don’t know how long I knelt like that, my mind far away, just sucking and squirming as electricity shot through my young body in new and unexpected ways, as she whispered in my ear about obedience and pleasure.

Finally he withdrew his thumb from my mouth with a wet pop. My eyes only half opened as I leaned mindlessly forward, my open lips seeking, the way a sleepy infant’s mouth would seek out the nipple it had lost. As if through a fog I saw Adam opening his pants, and his thick cock appear. He fed the head past my eager lips, and my eyes closed again in languorous bliss.

I sucked, and the head kept growing. I sucked, and he kept pushing. That hot, pulsing meat filled my mouth. Mary stroked my hair and pushed my head forward as he thrust in and out of my unresisting wet mouth, filling my throat every few strokes. I had the floaty sensation that my head was nothing but a hot wet hole for his use—and that the rest of my body didn’t exist—and I loved it ...

Mary grabbed her husband’s thick hard cock in one hand and started stroking it into my mouth. She knelt next to me, playing with my tits, coaxing me to keep my mouth open, tongue out, ready for his seed. But just before he exploded, she stopped. “Not yet,” she purred, and slowly licked his length, making it lurch. A milky pearl appeared at the tip. She looked up at him, her eyes big.

“I want to see you in her pussy.”

They each took one of my hands and led me, in a daze, to their bedroom. Laid me out on the bed, legs spread wide. Adam’s cock looked massive as he stood above me, Mary lying beside me, and I started to get nervous.

“I think I ... I think I should ...” I started, but I felt my dripping slit throb as I looked at it.

I licked my lips. “I don’t know if I should ...”

“Sshhh, ssshhh, honey,” she whispered in my ear, as she began caressing my nipples. “Needy ... Compliant ... Horny ... Submissive ...”

My eyelids fluttered as I gave in to her touch, and her words.

He pressed against my tight cunt, opening me up. I gasped. It hurt, but it hurt good ... Her mouth was on my aching bud, sucking, licking, distracting, as he speared into me, inch by agonizing slow inch. Pulling out a little, then pushing farther in ... Again, and again ... The pain ... I wanted more of it ... The pleasure ... I wanted it to stop ... I whimpered ...

He bottomed out, filling me completely, and my outstretched feet tensed. My toes curled. I stared at him, a little frightened, as I watched his face change. His eyes grew heavy-lidded and hooded as his chin came down. He was a man no longer, but a beast, and he glowered at me through his eyebrows as his jaw went slack with raw animal need. As he started to pull out, ready for the first of many hard primitive thrusts, a little drool collected on his lip. I knew he would have no mercy.

And I knew I would be back for more babysitting soon.

As he slammed into me, she bit down on my nipple, and I threw my head back. That first scream was not of pleasure.

But all the others after it ... were.

[megalokiodinsonlove]

They are all in different clothes, so does that means Neal spent the night at Burkes and we didn't see them taking care of him?

[simply-whump]

Strange Tales of Jiang Cheng : Episode 47/48

[anguishmacgyver]

[oliversrarebooks]

sedation vending machine

[whump-is-my-drug]

Passione episode 80

[how-much-for-a-whump]

WHUMPCEMBER day 20:

Prompt: "Drugged"

Paramparça 68. Bölüm

@whumpcember

[envysparkler]

Everything was too loud.

Everything was too loud and…spinning somehow, the lights of the club swirling sickeningly around him.  He—he was here with someone—he was supposed to be—everything was too hot and there were people pressing against him and his skin was crawling.

He needed to get out.

He needed to—something blared in the back of his head, shrieking a warning, but he—there was a door.  Outside.  Away from the crush of bodies and the sharp scent of alcohol and the way everything was getting a little fuzzy.

He’d definitely had too much to drink.

He wasn’t—he didn’t even remember—why had he come here?  Something about—spite and sadness twisted up inside of him and—he’d wanted to—to do something—and—

Air.  Sweet, blessed, cool air.

Tim staggered out, letting the door swing shut behind him and muffle the pounding bass of the club.  It was a cold night, and Tim shivered—he was wearing a thin shirt and skinny jeans, not at all dressed for the weather, but the cold was enough to wake him up a bit.

Not enough to help him walk straight, and Tim groaned as he leaned against the brick wall of the alleyway.  He’d only had two drinks, and he already felt like absolute crap.  Fuck.  At least his goal of forgetting this past day and passing out was a success, he was already…losing track…of his surroundings…

Fuck.

Tim tried to push upright, and the alleyway swam around him, the brief jolt of panic failing to clear the fog.  This wasn’t the alcohol.  This was drugs.

But he hadn’t—he’d been careful of his drink, he—he remembered turning away, but only for a second, he didn’t, no one could’ve—he wasn’t—

His head was spinning, and Tim rested his forehead against brick and tried to remember how to breathe.

He should—should call someone.  Tim patted his pockets before remembering that he’d left the phone at home, fed up with Bruce’s paranoia.  No panic button either—not that that would’ve helped, Batman was off-planet and Nightwing was on a mission.

Steph—Steph would help, and Tim curled his hands against the wall as he tried to think.  Steph was—was inside, with the pounding beat and the people and it was too hot inside but he needed to tell Steph he’d been drugged.  He had to.  He had.  He—

That sounded like the whine of a grapple.  But Batman wasn’t supposed to be here.  Was he?

Tim pushed away from the wall, vision swimming as the ground roiled beneath him, and—and that was a red helmet.

Even the drugs couldn’t stop the sudden lance of pure terror.

He didn’t hear the footsteps, but he felt the hand fisted in his collar, and he felt the brick digging into his back as he was pressed against the alley wall.  The mechanized voice was difficult to follow with his head so fuzzy, but fear forced his attention to focus.

“—the fuck are you doing, Replacement, you’re sixteen and you’re fucking drunk in the middle of Gotham, I can’t believe that B didn’t even check for some basic common sense when he went trawling for new sacrifices—”

Tim couldn’t suppress the soft whine as Hood shook him, making the world spin hazily around him again.  The red helmet was now far too close to his head, and he couldn’t do more than blink, shivering, his arms unwilling to raise.

“Are you on drugs?” the distorted voice sounded pissed.

Hood’s rules were clear—no drugs to kids.  Which meant that Tim was in even worse straits than he’d calculated.  “S—sorry,” he stuttered, but he got shaken again, the world tilting around him.

“Sorry?  What the fuck is sorry supposed to mean, you fucking—”

The roar of the club’s music cut him off, and Tim stared blearily at the back door—let it be Steph, please, he wanted Steph, he’d seen what Hood did to the dealers that sold to kids and he didn’t want to be beaten up again, especially not when he could barely even lift his head.

It wasn’t Steph.

It was a group of men, maybe three, maybe four, it was too hazy to make out.  He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but they sounded annoyed.

Hood’s hands tightened on his shoulders, and then loosened.

“You called dibs,” the distorted voice said, the crackling evenness somehow worse than the growling rage, and Tim blinked at him, confused, but the red helmet was tilted away from him.  “Dibs on what exactly?”

Something from the hazy figures, and a burst of raucous laughter.  Hood let go—Tim’s legs were jelly and the ground refused to stay in one place and the brick dragged painfully against his back as he slid to the ground.

“Oh, I do know what you mean.  I just wanted to hear you say it.”

That sounded like gunshots, Tim noted distantly, but the world was fading out.

[sowhumpful]

[uuuhshiny]

Vladimir Verevochkin in Double

Drugged

as per @vulnerabilityvendor request ;)

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick didn’t remember drifting off to sleep, but he was rudely awakened by a spike in alpha aggressiveness and someone inconsiderately yanking the pup from his arms.  Dick growled instinctively, but the voice that growled back was a lot deeper and a lot angrier.

He fought to get his eyes open, and then scrambled all the way up when he realized he was being loomed over by four alphas in orange-and-black.

Right.  The creepy beta.  Deathstroke’s pack.  The bites.

Dick tried not to shiver as he noticed he was still half-naked in comparison to the fully dressed alphas, but all of the enhanced mercenaries caught his twitch.

“What the fuck kind of game is this?” Deathstroke hissed, Respawn tucked under his arm.

Not in rut anymore.  Good to know.

“What makes you think I know?” Dick snapped back, voice hoarser than he’d like.  The room was still thick with the scent of alpha aggression and Dick felt...unclean.  Unsafe.  Alone and unprotected.  “I was locked in here, same as you.”

He didn’t realize he was reaching to bonds that were no longer there until he ended up brushing the ones that were.

There was another spike of anger as the alphas responded to the motion.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Deathstroke snarled.  “This is just the kind of game a hero would set up.  What is this supposed to be, some kind of rehabilitation attempt?  Did they think that if you seduced your way into our pack, that we’d give up our jobs?”

“Seduced?!” Dick spluttered in growing indignation.  He’d wanted no fucking part of this, and especially not being claimed by Deathstroke and his pack.

“What do you call drugging us into rut to get us to bite you?” Ravager shoved forward to snap in Dick’s face and Dick growled back, ignore the prickle of fear of stand his ground.  He was not going to be pushed around by a pack of mercenary alphas.

Even if they were all stronger than him.  Even if he was exhausted to his bones.  Even if all he wanted to do was curl up in a small ball and cry.

“And how do I know this isn’t your idea?” Dick hissed.  “You expect me to believe you and your entire fucking pack was stupid enough to get drugged?  That it was just a coincidence that you’re in my city?”

“Your city, omega?” Grant snarled.  “I don’t see your name on it.”  He was leaking enough alpha challenge to make Dick’s teeth grind.

“You know full well—”

“This is all your fucking fault—”

“How can you blame me for your own incompetence—”

“Oh, and what’s your excuse, Nightwing—”

“Enough.”

The word was filled with enough alpha command to make Dick’s knees go weak.  He locked them and continued glaring.  The pup had been passed on to Nightshade and Jericho while Deathstroke advanced on him.

“You bound yourself to us, kid,” Deathstroke said, low and dangerous, and every one of Dick’s instincts were on screaming alert.  “Tell us what you know, or I’ll break the bond to splinters and leave you choking on it.”

“I don’t know,” Ravager drawled before Dick could respond to the threat or the sharp flare of terror it caused.  He did a once-over of Dick, obvious even with the mask, and Dick fought the urge to cover himself with his arms.  “I kinda like the thought of Nightwing on his knees.”  Dick swallowed, and twitched back a step.  “What do you say, omega?  You can win the claim the hard way.”

“Go to hell,” Dick bared his teeth, as vicious as he could make it, flaring his scent in aggression.  But there was one of him and five of them and the resulting spike in alpha scent left him dizzy.  “I will make you regret even trying—”

“Down.”

His knees throbbed in sudden pain and he was suddenly looking up at all of them.  The realization took a second to catch up to his sluggish mind, and he wasn’t able to entirely keep the shock off his face.

“Aww,” Ravager chuckled, “Looks like you do recognize your place.”

Dick’s fragile hold on his temper, worn razor-thin by stress and pain and exhaustion, snapped.  He had to be the calm one, the rational one, he was the vigilante, the older brother, the leader, he always had to deescalate—except right now, all Dick cared about was tearing out the Ravager’s throat.

Alphas were absolutely vicious in defense of their territory and the worst place to be was between an alpha and something they were protecting.  But an omega was truly dangerous when they were backed into a corner.

Dick didn’t care about the bruises, the sharp flares of pain around his nipples, the throbbing pulses of bite marks on his throat—his anger coalesced into one smirking target.

Ravager clearly wasn’t expecting Dick to hit as hard as he did and the older alpha went down with a shout, Dick twisting free of his grip to go for another jab.  The cell erupted in angry yells and Dick ignored them all, laser focused, fear and pain and upset all combining to feed his rage.

He got in two more punches and a kick—he felt Ravager’s ribs snap under the force of the blow—gloves raking at any part of the alpha he could reach, before they were separated.  Violently.  Dick’s last clear sight was Deathstroke’s furious face before teeth sank into the side of his neck.

Dick crumpled like a ragdoll.

It wasn’t like the first time.  He couldn’t fight the submission, not even slightly, the tide overwhelming him as he drowned in emotions that weren’t his.

Rage—"the fucking little bitch, going to teach him a lesson”—frustration—a sharp, stinging pain in his scalp—wariness—"guys, wait, I don’t think”—fear—a quiet, scared pup sound—"stop, you’re hurting him!”

He could smell milk again.  His own milk, overproducing in response to the alpha rage, an omegan defense mechanism in the face of a hostile pack.

No.  Nonononono.  This wasn’t right.  His pack.  Where was his pack?  Dick rifled through the bonds he could feel, all unfamiliar, rage and frustration directed towards him, but none of them were right.  Where was his pack?

Another set of teeth, closing on the jut of his collarbone, vicious and sharp and take-it-omega-know-your-place-satisfaction-rage and Dick choked under the onslaught.  The grip in his hair vanished and Dick fell.

He didn’t stop falling.

Is this what Mom and Dad felt? a shred of coherent thought drifted amongst the screaming.  Someone was crying, awful, tearing sobs interspersed with desperate omega whimpers, and Dick thought dully that he should help them.  But he couldn’t, paralyzed as he fell and fell and fell, until he stopped fearing the ground and waited for the impact.

There were other noises too.  Snarls and growls.  Words, too fast for Dick to understand.  A quiet, wavering call, pup to pack-omega, and Dick instinctively reached towards it.

Turned out he could move after all.  He grabbed the pup and curled around them, so that he would hit the ground first and save the pup.  But why was the pup falling?  Dick was the only one on the tightrope.

The pup snuggled closer, still making quiet calls, overemphasized like they weren’t used to making them, and Dick crooned in response, reassuring them that pack-omega was there and they were safe.  He pulled the bond too, a reassuring tug of comfort in the oasis of terror.

Dick could smell the acrid scent of fear everywhere and swiped a gentle hand over the pup to wipe it off of him.  Pups should be safe and happy.

The other bonds inside him thrummed and Dick slowly poked down them.  They were muted, controlled, but the one nearest was emitting soft pulses of safe-shh-protect and Dick followed it to alpha-sister and fingers stroking through his hair.  He opened his eyes and saw her leaning over him, his head in her lap.

He wasn’t falling.

Dick blinked again and realized he was curled up on the ground, clutching a white-haired pup.  Respawn.  The other alpha was Nightshade.  He was in the cell.

He slowly turned his head and went very still when he saw the other alphas.  Ravager was crouching next to him, Jericho standing at his shoulder.  He couldn’t see Deathstroke but he could hear banging on the door.

“Are you done?” Ravager snapped brusquely.

Dick didn’t realize he’d flinched back until Nightshade made a warning growl.

Ravager growled back at her, “Oh, like I was supposed to know he’d go into some kind of screaming fit.”

Dick’s throat was very hoarse.  It felt like he’d swallowed sandpaper.

“Look,” Ravager said tersely, “just tell us how to get out of here and we’ll leave you alone.  It’s a fair trade.”

“I don’t know,” Dick rasped.

“What?”

“I don’t know how to get out.  I was drugged and dragged here.”

“You’re really going to stick to that story?” Ravager huffed.

“Not a story,” Dick narrowed his eyes, voice creaking under the strain.  “What part of this makes you think I want to be here?”

Ravager sat back on his heels and glanced at Dick, this time more scanning and less leering.  The bruises were probably obvious, enhanced strength leaving marks from all the manhandling.  Dick didn’t even want to know what the bruises looked like.

When it didn’t look like Ravager was going to respond, Dick turned away from him and curled up tighter, cuddling the pup.  If he closed his eyes, he could pretend it was Damian.  He had to imagine the tutting and Damian’s supercilious huffs.

He wondered what Damian felt when Dick’s bond suddenly snapped.  If he thought Dick had abandoned him.  If he—if he was—if his pup was—

“Stop that,” came the snarl above him and Dick realized he was crying again, tears slipping down his face.  He hastily wiped at them but they continued to fall.  He could do nothing about the grief filling his chest.

“So sorry my emotions are inconveniencing you,” he said thickly.  He felt a thrum of annoyance through the bond, before it snapped to alertness and all the alphas turned towards the ceiling.

Dick squinted up as well, but it took him a couple more seconds to hear the hiss of gas escaping into the room.

“What is it?” Ravager growled.

“Don’t know,” Deathstroke replied tersely.  “Get down, all of you.”

Dick let his head thunk back down.  Of course.  Creepy scientist guy hadn’t gotten what he wanted.

“It’s probably another rut inducer,” Dick said wearily.  “There’s this crazy scientist who wants to study baby metas.”  If the guy had the facilities to contain a whole mercenary pack, then he definitely had the facilities to keep Nightwing locked up for his mad plan.  How long would his family continue to look for him if they believed he was dead?  “Wants one of you to put a pup inside me.”

The looks of appalled shock were slightly reassuring.  But Dick could tell that the room was filling with gas and the alphas were beginning to get affected.

“That’s not how ruts work,” Nightshade protested, her voice deepening.

“Feel free to give the man a physiology lesson once you get out,” Dick offered, nestling back down with the pup.

He was going to take a nap this time.  He didn’t have the energy to even worry about what the alphas would do, much less calm them, and if he wanted to escape from here, he needed some space to think.

“If he wants a pup from you,” Deathstroke growled, low and dark.  “Then he needs you alive, doesn’t he.”

It wasn’t a question.  Dick’s eyes snapped back open and he slowly turned to face the alphas.

He met only hard glares.

Dick swallowed and curled trembling fingers into fists.