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It’s after the fourth time Cheshire has knocked Jason flat on his ass, that the atmosphere in the room changes. Jason is on his back, his shirt and sweats wet through and clinging to his skin, bruises blooming across his ribs and arms and, fuck, most of his body. Cheshire is straddling his thighs, one blade pressed to his armpit, the other a sharp line across his throat.
Jason would be embarrassed, but he’s sure Cheshire has her own set of bruises beneath that uniform. Besides, months of mindless wandering and, oh yeah, the six months of being dead before that, mean his body isn’t in the best condition, despite the Lazarus pit. And he’d gone five rounds with Slade just before this. His ego isn’t fragile enough to be worried about being beaten by Cheshire.
He is a little worried by the fact that she doesn’t immediately get off of him when he taps out against the mat. Some of his teachers either don’t care for tap-outs or actively disallow them, but Cheshire and Slade have so far been happy to end the spar when Jason calls it quits.
This time though, Cheshire doesn’t move. Jason taps again, but he knows she saw it the first time. There’s a sudden tension in the air, a sort of electricity that Jason isn’t stupid enough to miss. He’s not quite sure what it means, but he can tell that this has changed from a simple sparring lesson.
He lies still, waiting for Cheshire to make her move, whatever it might be. He isn’t going to speak. Something tells him that it wouldn’t be appreciated in this moment.
She shifts. The edge of the blade presses a little further into his throat. Jason can smell the iron of blood in the air. His skin burns, a sharp, hot pain. When he swallows, the bob of his Adam’s apple presses the knife a little deeper.
“You’re not bad,” Cheshire purrs. “Not at fighting, at least. The Bat obviously taught you something.”
Jason’s lip quirks. He hears enough about Batman from Talia, he doesn’t need this. He tenses, prepared to push her off, but Cheshire’s thighs tighten around him, squeezing in against his hip bones. She leans over him, pressing weight into the knife, not quite enough to cut him further, but enough to still his breath. Her mask sways, just a few inches from his face.
“You’ve still got a lot to learn, though. Doesn’t he Deathstroke?”
Slade looms into Jason’s vision behind her and Jason has to suppress an automatic flinch. From the floor, the mercenary looks bigger than ever, a huge, intimidating presence. He’s silent as he looks down at them. The mask gives nothing away.
“There’s always more to learn,” he grunts.
Cheshire straightens. The knife at Jason’s throat lifts and he breathes a slow exhale. There’s still the heavy threat of the knife at his armpit, but at least he isn’t at risk of the cut on his neck deepening any further.
“I am learning,” he says, swallowing hard and feeling a hot bead of blood trickle across his skin. “Isn’t that what we’re doing here?”
Cheshire glances up at Deathstroke. Something passes between them, although with their masks on it’s hard to tell what it is. When she turns back to Jason, he almost shivers.
The blade shifts to press beneath Jason’s eye. He stills again. He has no idea what this is, what’s expected of him.
“Mistress Talia is a good teacher, isn’t she?”
She pauses. Jason isn’t sure if he’s meant to respond or not. Eventually, he grits out, “Yes.” Talia is the best swordsman Jason has ever met. She’s taught him things about weapons that Bruce could never hope to impart.
The knife slides across his face, leaving a thin, burning line behind it. Jason doubts the cut will scar, considering how light it is, but the thought of Cheshire marring his face still has him baring his teeth. Cheshire just redirects the blade to his lips, tracing where they’re peeled back around a snarl.
“But you can’t learn everything from a single teacher.”
“Talia isn’t my only teacher.”
Despite the mask, Jason can tell she’s smirking. “Not in combat, perhaps. But how many people have taught you how to use this?”
The knife at his face disappears, a moment later, Cheshire reaches between them and grabs Jason’s crotch.
Jason jolts. It’s a shock to have someone touch him so casually. He reacts instinctively, bucking to try to throw her off, one hand grasping her wrist and twisting her arm away.
Cheshire rides the movement. Her arm is limp in Jason’s grip, a strange sort of surrender. If Jason twists his hips just right, he can dislodge her.
A heavy weight drops onto his shins, pinning him before he can execute the move. Deathstroke. Jason had forgotten about him, too focussed on the main threat above him. He might be able to dislodge Cheshire, but he knows there’s little chance of being able to fight both of them off.
He goes still, although he doesn’t relinquish his grip on Cheshire’s wrist. She doesn’t try to pull free, just watches him, a tilt to her head that suggests mild curiosity.
Deathstroke’s mask appears over her shoulder. “Calm down, boy,” he growls, as if reacting to someone grabbing your junk is somehow unreasonable. “We’re here to teach you. Don’t resist.”
“You’re meant to teach me to fight,” Jason says. His voice is strangely breathless. Tight in his chest. “Not this.”
Cheshire twists her wrist, reversing the hold so she can pin Jason’s arm above his head, leaning over him again, until her face is inches from his. “You don’t want to learn?” Cheshire asks. “Then stop us.”
Maybe she’s expecting Jason to struggle, then, because her grip tightens. He doesn’t. He’s not entirely sure why, but he lies still beneath her for a long, charged second.
Suddenly, her weight lifts. The knife at his armpit disappears. Jason doesn’t move. She stretches, rising up until she’s standing above him, legs still straddling his limp body, tugging swiftly at her uniform. Jason’s mouth is so dry. He can’t look away, watching with anticipation as she bares herself in quick, efficient movements.
She steps forward, then, so she’s standing directly above him. Like this, Jason can’t avoid staring right at her pussy, pink and entirely bare, besides the thatch of dark hair surrounding it. His breath catches. His throat bobs in a dry swallow.
She reaches down her body, stroking over her belly before slipping her hand between her legs. Jason watches in stunned silence as she runs two long fingers between her folds, pausing to rub a tight circle across her clit. Her head falls back, a low groan escaping her.
Jason’s arms lift without any real input from his brain. Carefully, he sets them on each of her calves, sliding them up and down the muscles of her legs. They tense beneath his touch.
“Did Talia teach you how to do this?” Cheshire asks, a smirk in her voice.
Jason grins. He firms his grip and uses it to tug Cheshire down. She drops gracefully, catching herself on her knees, hovering right over Jason’s face. This close he can smell her, the musk of her pussy and the sweet scent of perfume daubed onto her thighs. His mouth, to his own surprise, waters. He has done this before, a few times, with Talia. But he’s by no means an expert.
A hand threads into his hair, long nails scraping across his scalp. Jason shivers at the slight pain. Then shivers again when Cheshire uses the grip to yank his head back, so his mouth is positioned beneath her.
Without any more warning, Cheshire lowers herself until her pussy is just brushing Jason’s mouth. Jason strains up automatically, reaching to close the space between them. He’s got enough experience to know what to do here, at least. He licks a thick stripe between her folds, gathering slick on his tongue, musky and a little sweet. When he reaches her clit, he flicks his tongue against it, teasingly, before returning to her folds, licking broad swipes across the core of her, sucking lightly at rosy flesh.
She groans. Her nails contract where they’re still buried in his hair, scratching faint, burning lines across his scalp. Her hips rock, grinding down against Jason’s face, seeking more friction.
“Good,” she hums, when Jason switches his focus to her clit. He sucks harder at the praise and she hums again, a low, throaty sound of pleasure.
He works at her for long enough that when warm hands land on his hips and fingers tuck beneath his waistband, Jason jumps. He’d been so involved in Cheshire, in her pleasure, that he’d totally forgotten about Slade. He has the sudden, uneasy feeling that he’s going to regret that.
“Easy,” Slade rumbles, calloused thumbs sweeping across the dip in Jason’s hips like he’s soothing a spooked horse. “Just relax.”
Consciously, Jason eases the tension in his body. He tries not to think about Slade’s hands as he tugs his sweatpants down and off. All he needs to do is focus on Cheshire, on the thick press of his tongue inside her. On the way she’s grinding her clit down against his top lip. The soft sighs and moans she’s letting out like she can’t quite help herself.
“He’s good at this,” she groans. “But then, so is Talia.”
Jason hears the smile in her voice. Still, he shudders at the mental image that evokes. He shudders again when one of Slade’s broad palms rubs up the bare skin of his thigh and the other slips between the cheeks of his ass.
He makes a muffled sound against Cheshire. Even he doesn’t know what it would have been if she hadn’t been covering his mouth. A protest or an encouragement?
Slade doesn’t seem to care either way. Wet fingers stroke up the cleft of Jason’s ass, rough pads toying at his hole. He has no idea where Slade got the slick from, or when. It might just be spit, Jason realises with a thrill of anxiety - unless Deathstroke keeps lube in one of those many mercenary pockets. Perhaps he does. Jason knows the Bat’s utility belt contains a tube for emergencies - although usually not of the sexual kind.
“Talia might have taught you how to handle a woman,” Slade grunts, “but I doubt she’ll have taught you this.”
As he says it, he lifts Jason’s hips with one strong hand and pulls him down into his lap. Despite the thickness of his armour, Jason can feel the bulge of his erection pressing against him. He shivers, fear and arousal burning through him in equal measure.
Cheshire huffs a laugh that catches on a moan as Jason spears his tongue inside her. Slade, as if in retaliation, pushes two thick fingers into him in one swift movement. Jason jolts. Chokes. His body arches, automatically trying to escape the intrusion. Slade holds him still, thrusting deep, the grip on Jason’s hip hard enough to bruise.
“Wait,” Jason tries to say, but Cheshire is heavy on his face and he can’t suck in enough of a breath to get the word out. Pain and pleasure slice up his spine as Slade drags his fingers out before pressing them roughly back in. There isn’t much finesse to it at first, just a harsh push and pull, an uncomfortable, alien fullness. Then, on one inward push, those thick fingers scrape over something inside of Jason.
He jolts again, making a strangled noise against Cheshire. It’s like a spark of electricity pulsing through him. He can feel his heart thundering in his chest. Feel the press of those clever fingers against his soft inner walls. Smell Cheshire, all around him. Smell his own arousal, sweat and precum. His cock is hard against his belly, the wet tip smearing across his skin.
Slade adds a third finger. Cheshire tugs impatiently on Jason’s hair, urging him back to the task in hand, but it's hard to concentrate. He can’t seem to get used to the foreign sensation of something inside him. He can’t seem to forget that it’s Deathstroke with his fingers up his ass. He can’t seem to think around the pleasure, huge and liquid in his gut.
Still, he tries. He sucks and licks at Cheshire, focusing on her clit in an attempt to get her off as quickly as possible. She rocks against him, grinding hard over his face in her own attempt to do the same. Jason can tell she’s close. The muscles of her thighs are tense where they bracket his head. Her hips keep twitching spasmodically, the smooth rhythm of her thrusts faltering. She’s panting hard enough that Jason can hear it over the rush of his own blood in his ears.
Finally, she comes with a sharp cry. Her thighs squeeze hard around Jason’s head, blocking out the sound of anything else. He can hear her pleasure, though, rumbling through her body. He can hear the thrum of her pulse through her skin. She shudders and wetness spills across his chin. He gentles her through it, lapping softly, cleaning her up, until, eventually, she pulls away.
“Good boy,” she murmurs, kneeling by his head. Then she tugs her mask away, before bending down to kiss the taste of herself off of his tongue. “At least Talia taught you something.”
From between Jason’s legs, Slade huffs a laugh. His fingers are still buried inside Jason, but he’s pulled himself out of his uniform with his free hand. Jason looks down his own body, past his own achingly hard cock, to where it juts up from between his legs. Slade is huge in every sense of the word and Jason’s mouth goes dry at the thought of something that big inside him. It’s uncut, he notices with curiosity, thick and flushed with blood. Slade is stroking himself lazily, watching Jason through the mask.
As if spurred by Jason’s gaze, Slade shifts. In one easy move, he grips Jason’s hip and shoulder and flips him. Jason lets him, unresisting. With the same strength, Slade tugs him up, lifting him onto his knees, before pulling him back until Jason is straddling Slade’s thighs, his back pressed up against Slade’s armoured chest. He can feel that monster cock pressed up against his back too, leaking precum over his spine.
“We’re going to show you something you’ve never dreamed of, boy,” Slade growls, right in Jason’s ear, and Jason swallows hard, feeling something tick in his throat. His heart is thudding so hard in his chest it almost hurts. His cock does hurt, throbbing in the cool air, cruelly neglected. “Just relax.”
Easy for Slade to say. Jason can’t help tensing as he lifts him, the wet, bulbous tip of his cockhead pressing up between Jason’s cheeks. His breath comes quick, chest hitching with fear. He can’t relax. This is going to hurt. He’s sure it’s going to hurt.
Sensing his distress, perhaps, Jade shifts closer. One hand trails over Jason’s chest, pausing briefly to rub over the nub of a nipple, making Jason twitch in Slade’s hold. It doesn’t linger long though, trailing over his abs, over his pelvis, before coming to rest in the cradle of his hips. Jason swallows drily again, but before he can say anything, Jade fists his cock in a firm grip.
Jason groans, arching back against Slade, letting his head drop against the mercenary’s thick shoulder. “Fuck,” he gasps. “Cheshire, don’t…don’t tease.”
Jade flashes him a wicked grin, before bending low and taking him into her mouth in one smooth movement.
Jason chokes. At the same time, Slade rocks his hips, slotting his cock against Jason’s hole and pushing gently until he breaches the tight muscle. Distantly, Jason feels the flash of pain as it pops into him, but it’s overwhelmed by the wet heat of Jade’s mouth, the clever curl of her tongue. He groans again, pain and pleasure twisting in his gut.
Slade presses his masked face to Jason’s throat. He rocks his hips and with every movement, slides a little deeper into Jason. Despite the blowjob, Jason can’t ignore the pressure of that enormous cock working him open. His hole strains around the thickness of it. His gut aches as it presses into him, a fullness that he’s never experienced before. If he’d thought that Slade’s fingers had felt strange, it’s nothing compared to the sensation of his cock breaching him, taking him, moulding him. Forcing him wide around it.
“Good boy,” Slade rumbles, an echo of the way Cheshire had praised him earlier. “That’s it, you’re taking it well. I know it’s a lot.”
If Jason weren’t hearing it now, he’d have never believed that Slade could speak so softly. He’s never sounded like this whilst they were sparring. Slade isn’t cruel during their lessons, but he’s hard. Stern. This soft praise has Jason shivering. Something soft inside him feels like it’s melting beneath Slade’s warmth, gooey and vulnerable.
Finally, Slade seems to bottom out. Jason can feel the warmth of his pelvis pressed against him, the thickness of his thighs, the tickle of wiry pubes. Jade sucks hard, once, making Jason squeak embarrassingly, before pulling off. Her lips are wet and swollen. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with lust. Jason can’t stop himself from reaching out and touching her.
Slade grips his wrist before he can make contact, pulling it back and twisting it up behind Jason’s back, trapping it between his own body and the hard muscle of Slade’s chest. It’s not a painful pin, or even one that Jason couldn’t easily break, but he doesn’t pull his arm free. His other hand is wrapped around Slade’s wrist, gripping hard where he’s still clutching Jason’s hip.
Jade smirks. In a graceful movement, she pulls herself up until she’s straddling them both, muscled thighs pressed against them. She wraps one hand around Slade’s back, pressing them close. The other drops between her legs, framing Jason’s cock before guiding it to the wet heat of her slit.
Jason’s breath catches. When she sinks down onto him, he can’t help moaning low in his throat. It feels so good - the wet, tight heat of her. His gut clenches, arousal pooling hot in his belly. He’s glad that Slade is holding still because he isn’t sure if he could handle the feeling of Slade moving inside him at the same time. Just this is enough to have his whole body burning.
Jade slides easily over him, until she’s settled against his thighs. For a moment, all three of them are still, their chests pressed together, heartbeats thudding against each other. Even unmoving like this, it’s almost overwhelming - the thick stretch of Slade inside him, the tight heat of Jade around him. Jason can’t breathe without sucking in the smell of their arousal, the musky scent of sweat and slick and precum.
“Pay attention, Jason,” Slade rumbles, and just the sound of that gravelly voice in his ear, the way it rumbles through Slade’s chest to vibrate right through Jason’s spine, is enough to spike the arousal in Jason’s gut. “Your education begins now.”
With that, Slade thrusts up. It’s gentle for Slade, Jason knows, far from the brutal strength that the mercenary is capable of, but it still punches the breath from him. Jade rides the movement, rolling her hips, and the way she clenches around him, the drag and slide of Slade’s cock, both force a high cry from Jason.
He can’t do this. It’s too much - a pleasure so intense that Jason can’t even separate it from the pain. Each thrust hurts, his hole straining, his gut aching. At the same time, Slade is nailing his prostate with every push into him - whether on purpose, or because his cock is simply big enough to touch so much of Jason that it's impossible to avoid, Jason doesn’t know. He writhes on Slade’s cock, caught up in the overload of sensation, his head thrown back and mouth wide, but open around nothing.
Jade bounces in his lap. She’s panting in his ear. One of her hands is wrapped around the back of Jason’s neck, sharp nails digging in hard enough that Jason is sure she’s drawing blood. It’s just another sensation in the vast sea of everything Jason is feeling right now. Her other arm is still wrapped around Slade’s back, keeping them pressed tight together. No doubt she’s clawing Slade bloody too, but he seems unaffected. He’s barely even breathing hard, despite the weight of them both in his lap, despite the tight clench of Jason around him.
Jason’s chest heaves and he can feel the press of Jade’s breasts against him. The material of her armour rubs against his nipples and every rough press sends shockwaves of electricity through him. His cock is a hot line inside her and Jason can’t help rocking up, trying to match their thrusts.
Unsurprisingly, Jason comes first. His whole body convulses. Pleasure crashes through him, singing through his nerves, drawing every muscle tight. He cries out, jerking in Slade’s grip. Distantly, he hears Slade groan, right in his ear, but it feels secondary to his own pleasure. Everything seems to shrink to nothing beneath the onslaught.
When he’s aware of the world again, the first thing he notices is that Slade is still thrusting into him. Jade is still on top of him, too, Jason’s half-hard cock buried inside her. She isn’t moving, but Slade’s rocking is forcing Jason against her. Her hand is pressed between them, fingers working feverishly over her own clit.
A moment later, she cries out, body tightening. Her cunt clenches down tight around Jason, spasming with her orgasm, and he can’t help but cry out too at the overstimulation. Slade’s cock is still rubbing over that spot inside him with every thrust. It’s too much.
Slade snarls in Jason’s ear. With a heave of muscle, he tips them both onto the ground, Jade underneath Jason, the weight of Slade pressing him into her. They both pant, a little frantically, chests heaving beneath the pressure. Slade doesn’t seem to care, just slamming his hips hard into Jason - hard enough that Jason whines, enough to hurt and without the pleasure to take the edge off of it - before finally stuttering to a halt. For a moment, he strains against Jason. Then his cock throbs hard, semen pulsing up into Jason in a hot gush. Slade grunts in pleasure, his hands tight on his hips.
Jason shivers. Despite himself, the feeling of Slade orgasming inside him is enough to spark another weak wave of arousal.
Eventually, Slade’s weight lifts off of him. Jason is too boneless to pull himself to his knees, but Jade rolls him carefully onto his back. Soft fingers brush his sweaty bangs back from his forehead. At the same time, rough hands pull his jelly-legs back into his sweatpants before yanking them up to his hips.
“You did good, kid,” Slade says. He’s already put himself back together. Looking up at him from the floor, Jason wouldn’t even know he’d had sex just moments before.
Jade has pulled her clothes back on as well - and her mask. She looks down at Jason too. “I’m sure Talia will be pleased.”
“I don’t know,” Jason says, doubtfully, and is surprised by the rough croak of his voice. “I’m not sure she’ll be too impressed by my swordsmanship next time we spar.”
Slade huffs a laugh. Jade cocks her head in a way that suggests she might be amused, or perhaps just exasperated. Jason feels something wet trickle down the back of his neck. Sweat, or potentially, blood.
“Well,” Jade says, something teasing in her tone, “we still have time to get a bit more practice in.”
Jason, still limp on the floor, body aching and wrung-out, can only groan. If he’s learned anything during his time with Cheshire and Deathstroke, it's that she’s almost certainly serious.