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It doesn't take long for Thomas to go searching for Richard.
The boy was gone for a while, after his faked death during the events of the Crime Syndicate's invasion. Thomas didn't know where he went, but he's a patient man, and was willing to wait for whenever Richard resurfaced. Because he would do so eventually, there was no doubt about that. The boy wasn't wired to work in the shadows—he would always find his way into the light.
The instant the news came of Nightwing being seen again, flying across the rooftops of Bludhaven, Thomas began working to wrap up his current endeavors. Richard is far more important than some plans against Ultraman. Though still, he is a patient man, and takes his time making sure everything is just right.
It takes nearly two months, but finally Thomas is able to go to the city Richard has made his home. The place is a cesspool, honestly. Filled with corruption and filth and a thankless population that doesn't understand how lucky they are to have Richard looking over them. They don't deserve him, and Thomas will happily see them descend into chaos once he takes Richard away.
He goes to Richard's apartment first, and finds it empty. But not only empty—it seems like no one has been there in a while, despite it being Richard's listed residence and full of his belongings. Thomas glances around with a furrowed brow, searching for some explanation for Richard's absence, but there is nothing. He does find the secret closet where Richard keeps all of his Nightwing gear, which is completely full, but that doesn't actually provide any answers.
So Thomas heads back into the night, trying to plan. His first move, he decides, will be seeing if the criminal underworld is aware of what might've happened to Nightwing, if Nightwing is dead, so Thomas can find out if there's someone he has to torture and kill for the crime of taking something that doesn't belong to them.
The men he interrogates first have no answers, only pleas for Thomas to stop and vague statements about having not seen Nightwing in nearly three weeks. That the hero popped up, began patrolling every night, and then just suddenly stopped after just a month.
The next set of criminals are equally clueless. It's when he's hunting down some more—mainly to vent his frustrations, rather than an actual belief that he'll get more information—that he catches sight of the assassin.
The man is good at what he does, fast and stealthy, but Thomas hasn't reached his position without being the best. It grabs his attention, and he slinks off after the assassin, eyes narrowed on him. The way he moves clearly shows that he's a professional, and Thomas has no doubt that he's an expert with the knives that crisscross his midsection. If anyone is be capable of killing Nightwing, it would be someone like this.
To the assassin's credit, he notices the fact that he's being tailed rather quickly, and stands his ground on the next rooftop, turning to face Thomas. He has blades held in both hands, his posture relaxed but still ready, and Thomas eyes him critically. There is something about this man, about the way he moves and holds himself, that Thomas finds very familiar...
With a flash of surprise, Thomas realizes that it's Richard. That those fluid jumps and smooth turns are all Nightwing, the relaxed and ready stance one Thomas has faced multiple times. Somehow, Richard has turned away from Bruce's ways, has found himself on Thomas' side of things. What a marvelous thing.
"Hello, Richard," Thomas says smoothly, eyeing that strange full-head mask he's wearing. His Richard always preferred a domino mask over a cowl like Thomas wears, or anything bigger than that, preferring the full-range motion a domino provides. He had been pretty sure that this version of Richard was much the same, which makes the change odd. And blocks his features from Thomas' sight, which Thomas doesn't like.
Richard doesn't respond to him, doesn't react in any way past the slightest tilt of his head to the side. No quips, no taunts, no demands for what Thomas is doing here. It makes Thomas narrow his eyes; it seems something has been done to Richard after all. Someone did this, made Richard into this, and Thomas burns with rage over it. They had no right. Richard is his, no matter the Earth. No one gets to touch him except for him.
There is no chance of Richard coming with him quietly, which means attempting to speak with him is pointless.
So Thomas attacks.
Fighting Richard is so very different now than it ever has been before. His speed is familiar, and his ease of motion, and his precision, and his readiness to adapt, but it's all used so much differently now. There's a lethality to him that was never there before, a sharpness to his precision that Richard surely never brought out against his enemies in the past.
And of course he has those deadly blades in his hands, ones he uses to strike for the kill in a way that never in a million years would he have done before.
He's beautiful. Enchanting. So much like the Richard of Thomas' Earth that Thomas longs, longs more than he ever has before.
And despite all that skill, all that stunning lethality, Thomas still comes out the winner in the end. He knocks Richard unconscious, and immediately rips off that hood of his, needing to see his face. To lay eyes on the boy he loves once more, for the first time in so long.
It's—different. His tan skin has taken on a slightly gray color, as if it's been painted across his face. There are dark circles under his eyes, and the ends of black veins creeping over the edge of the collar of his suit to extend up his neck. It makes that anger smolder in Thomas' chest, and he resolves to kill everyone involved in this change.
Refusing to ruminate for now, he hefts Richard into his arms and takes off across the rooftops, heading back towards the boy's apartment. Once there, he grabs a chair from the dining table and drags it into the center of the room, depositing Richard in it. The boy's head lolls with unconsciousness, body loose and pliant in a truly appealing way.
He pulls out some rope and begins expertly binding Richard to the chair, making sure there is no chance of the boy being able to escape until Thomas is ready to release him. And then he stares, eyes roaming over Richard's form, memorizing this new version of him while he waits for him to wake up once more.
It's subtle, once he does. Richard's training does him credit, the signs of him rising to the surface very minute, the boy working to keep up the appearance of sleep as he analyzes his surroundings, trying to determine what kind of situation he's found himself in.
"There's no need for that," Thomas intones, watching him. "I know you're awake, and I'd rather we simply speak like adults."
There's a small pause, and then Richard lifts his head, blinking his eyes open to look at Thomas. Blinking his golden eyes open.
Thomas' own eyes narrow, displeased. He's always loved Richard's blue eyes, the bright energy that always shined in them, the expressiveness, the way the shade of them seemed to change depending on his mood. So beautiful, just like the rest of him. And now that has been taken, too.
But Thomas will fix it. He'll fix everything, once he understands what's been done. He'll return Richard to what he's supposed to be.
"So much has changed since we last saw each other," Thomas comments, arms folded over his chest.
Richard blinks placidly at him. He shifts in a barely noticeable way, clearly testing his bindings. Thomas doesn't try to deter him; he's confident that the boy will be staying put.
"Do we know each other?" Richard asks with a sort of idle curiosity, like he doesn't particularly care about the answer either way. Memory issues, then. Yes, Thomas supposes that that's a good way to get someone like Nightwing to kill for you. If he can't remember Batman's rules...
It also presents an excellent opportunity for Thomas. A Richard who doesn't know his past is a Richard who won't know that what Thomas tells him is full of falsities.
"Very well," Thomas says. "Before you were taken, we were partners, family. I took you into my home, gave you training, gave you everything you could ever want—and you repaid me with loyalty."
That's the truth for a version of Richard, for Thomas' Richard, so it's not like it's even completely a lie. With this Richard being so different from what he was before, he's far more similar to Thomas' Richard than his old self. This past might as well be the truth.
Richard's eyes narrow slightly, but it seems more confused and thoughtful than any negative emotion. "I was yours first?"
Interesting how he phrases that, like he views himself as being owned by whoever it is that he currently works for. Disgusting and blasphemous—they had no right—but also has Richard reaching the correct conclusion about the pair of them. So Thomas will simply have to allow it.
"Yes," Thomas agrees, and steps closer until he's directly in front of the boy, knees mere inches from brushing against Richard's. "You are mine, Richard. You will always be mine, no matter what anyone else tries to make you. No matter how many other people want to use you, I will always burn them to the ground for daring to take what belongs to me."
Richard stares up at Thomas with wide eyes, and then he goes boneless against the chair, accepting. This is something this new version of him understands. Being owned, belonging to another. The old him raged against such an idea, hated Thomas for trying to claim him. But this one understands, this one knows what it is to repay gifts with loyalty. And he will now do so again for Thomas, as he always should've done.
Thomas leans forward, wrapping his palm loosely around Richard's neck. The boy's Adam's apple bobs against his gauntlet, and then he arches his chin up to press firmly into the grip, holding eye contact as he does so. Purposefully putting himself in Thomas' hands. Those golden eyes are still so very strange, but seeing the way they focus on him, the lack of malice in them—maybe they're not so bad after all.
"Mine," Thomas reiterates, squeezing slightly. "My boy. Do you understand, Richard?"
"Yes," Richard replies. "And that's—Richard is my name, then?"
Thomas blinks. "Yes. What did they call you?"
"Talon," Richard tells him, and Thomas barely keeps his surprise from showing on his face. The surprise quickly gives way to delight at how perfect it all is. It's like destiny.
"With me," Thomas murmurs, stroking his thumb up and down the side of Richard's neck, "that was your title, what you went by when we were working. Like I'm Owlman. But your name is Richard."
"What is your name?" Richard asks. His voice is hesitant, his gaze turning wary, like he's expecting to be punished for the question.
But Thomas simply smiles. "Thomas."
"Thomas," Richard echoes, turning the word over in his mouth, and hearing his boy say his name for the first time in so long drives Thomas into motion.
He leans in, crashing his mouth against Richard's, kissing him passionately. He licks into his mouth, claiming it after so long without it—for the first time on this Earth, with this Richard—sucking on his tongue, giving him no room to breathe until Thomas decides to end the kiss.
"If I untie you," Thomas says once he eventually draws back, eyes dark as watches Richard pant, sees those bright red lips slick with spit, "will you attempt to get away?"
The immediacy of Richard's negative head shake makes Thomas believe him, and he wastes no time in releasing the ropes. As soon as Richard is free, Thomas yanks him up by the grip on his throat and walks him backwards until he can slam him against the wall, pinning him there with his bigger body. And Richard doesn't fight, doesn't try to escape, instead letting Thomas maneuver him however he pleases.
"Undo your pants," Thomas orders, voice roughening with lust. Richard's eyes go wide, slitted pupils contracting like a cat's, but then he rushes to obey. He even shoves them down his hips before releasing them, pressing his palms back against the wall.
Thomas smiles at him, and then shoves his pants down further before grabbing him and spinning him around, forcing his stomach against the wall and lining himself up against his back. He grinds forward against the boy's defined ass, enjoying the way Richard jumps and then becomes pliant for him, loosening his body against the wall, ready and willing for whatever Thomas is going to do to him.
And oh, does Thomas have so many plans.
But for now, he just wants it fast and hard, wants to reclaim what has been his for nearly two decades, something that so many others have tried to take for their own. He wants to leave Richard aching and bruised, unable to move without thinking of how he's owned by Thomas. How he's never belonged anywhere as much as he belongs at Thomas' side, not even that silly circus.
His Richard didn't understand that, in the end. He couldn't understand how Thomas killing his parents was a good thing, that Mary and John were standing in the way of their partnership. That his parents were nothing compared to Thomas. That nothing will ever compare to the bond they have.
This Richard understands, though. This Richard knows nothing of circuses or Flying Graysons. This Richard knows he belongs to Thomas, and Thomas will make sure he never forgets it.
From his utility belt, Thomas pulls out some Vaseline, deciding it will do for their purposes here. He debates removing his gauntlets, and then decides against it, wanting his boy to really feel everything that's about to happen.
So he coats one finger liberally in the Vaseline and pushes it inside the boy, fucking it in and out. He leans down to bite at Richard's neck as well, digging his teeth in and delighting in the groan that pulls from Richard, the way the boy tilts his head back against his shoulder to give Thomas even more access to mark him up the way he pleases.
One finger becomes two, then three, and he fucks them hard and fast in and out of Richard's ass, basking in the moans that fall from Richard's lips, the way the boy rocks back against his fingers like he's desperate for more.
"Good boy," Thomas murmurs, nipping at his earlobe, and Richard mewls, making Thomas grin. His Richard always enjoyed praise, too. "So perfect for me, Richard. My Richard."
"Yours," Richard chokes out, nodding vigorously, and Thomas decides enough is enough. He wants to be inside Richard now.
So he removes his fingers and reaches down for the clasps of his suit, yanking aside his jockstrap and removing his cup until he's able to pull his hard cock out of his pants. He strokes himself twice with a rough hand, coating himself in some more Vaseline, and then lines himself up, pulling Richard's ass cheeks apart so he can watch the way his hole flutters as he begins pushing inside.
It is gloriously tight even after the prep, clinging to Thomas' cock like a vice, and Thomas moans at the wonderful sensation. He forces himself further and further until his hips are pressed flat against Richard's ass, his cock sheathed all the way inside his boy.
"Want me to fuck you, Richard?" Thomas growls in his ear, giving a minute rock of his hips that makes Richard groan. "Want me to claim you as mine, show you who you belong to? My beautiful, deadly boy."
Richard groans, forehead knocking against the wall. He pushes back against Thomas, grinding Thomas' cock deeper inside of him and making them both moan. "Do it," he says breathlessly. "T-Thomas, do it."
Thomas doesn't hesitate. He draws out and snaps his hips forward, setting a brutal pace, fucking in and out of the ass that belongs to him hard and fast the way he wants to, the way that will make Richard ache for days to come. He bites a line up and down the side of Richard's neck, and then yanks his hair to twist his head around so Thomas can kiss him, sloppy and claiming and everything he's been missing for so long.
He wraps his hand around Richard's neck, enjoying the way the boy gasps into his mouth as he squeezes down, restricting his breathing. He squeezes and releases his hand in a rhythmic pattern, controlling Richard's breathing, forcing him to follow the airflow Thomas allows him to have. Everything Richard has is at the behest of Thomas, even down to something as simple as breathing.
The sounds of Richard's strained moans and mewls are music to Thomas' ears, and makes him fuck harder and harder, lust reaching new peaks. He feels his orgasm approaching, and he groans in Richard's ear, taking pleasure from his boy's body, using his ass to his own ends like he always should've been doing from the very first day.
He comes with a growl, fucking as deep as he can into Richard's ass as the orgasm washes over him, vision blurring around the edges. He pins Richard painfully against the wall, keeping his cock buried deep inside of him as he comes down, letting the boy warm his cock like they both always used to enjoy.
"You want to come?" Thomas asks, voice low and rough, after he's come back down, and Richard nods quickly, hips flexing back against him. "Then grind against the wall, Richard. Hump the wall for me and get yourself off."
Richard groans, panting wetly, and then does as he's told like the good boy he is. Thomas tells him so, and Richard moans, humping faster against the wall, beautiful body moving as he chases his own release with Thomas still buried deep inside of him.
When the boy comes, he does it with a long moan, a shudder running up and down his spine. Thomas kisses and sucks and bites at the underside of his jaw as he trembles through the aftershocks, and doesn't stop even when the boy starts whining with overstimulation, waiting until he himself is damn good and ready before stopping and drawing back completely.
He pulls Richard's pants back into place, enjoying the idea of his release dripping out of Dick's ass and soaking that suit given to him by others. As primal a claim as any.
Thomas spins Richard around, enjoying the dazed look on his face as he yanks him in for a slow, deep kiss, squeezing his ass to hold him close until he's had his fill.
"Come on," Thomas says, teeth flashing in a sharp smile. "It's time to go home."
And Richard nods pliantly, like the loyal boy he's always been meant to be, and then walks towards the window without complaint. Following Thomas into the unknown, just like always.