[ His brow knits as he mulls that over, trying and mostly failing to
reconcile the idea with his own limited experience. Pain and trust were
part of training, he understood, but not in the sense where you stood still
and allowed someone to hurt you because you trusted them. You were
supposed to trust a teammate to not hurt you, unless they were being
controlled, in which case they would prefer that you disable or free them
as swiftly as possible. A controlled teammate wouldn’t appreciate being
allowed to inflict damage.
Watching grown men manhandle their young, apparently helpless
playthings doesn’t seem like trust at all, although most of them are
putting on a display of enjoying it or even begging for their tormentors to
continue. The sexual gratification looks one-sided as well, except where
two-- pets, he supposes, that’s what Robin called them-- are putting on a
show for the benefit of an audience, toying with each other teasingly.
They seem desperate for attention, and a couple even glance his way
repeatedly for some reason he can’t fathom.
Fortunately or unfortunately, he’s saved from having to form any
kind of reply to that or to the man asking if he’s Robin’s master by
Robin himself, pursuing the mission and engaging the mark with the kind of
dedication that Superboy grudgingly admired. Kaldur and Robin were usually
the ones to count on to remember mission goals when the rest of them got
distracted or separated.
The mark wastes no time taking advantage of Robin’s size, pulling
him into his lap. Superboy has never really seen his teammate as
small before, at least not in the context of how tiny he is compared
to an average adult male. Everyone seems small to Superboy, who is himself
smaller than Superman, but Robin had never come across as vulnerable or
fragile despite barely coming up to his chest. In training he was always
fast, controlled, and easily more capable than Kid Flash. Now the only
thing he can see is how tiny his wrists are in the mark’s grasp, how easily
he pushes and pulls Robin into the position he wants.
He grits his teeth at the groping and glances away, catching that
small noise. It had sounded… unfeigned, inasmuch as he knew what real and
faked moans sounded like, but Robin was trained in infiltration and other
sneaky shit. Maybe this was old hat to him. Maybe he went out and did
this every weekend with his mentor, who knew. ]
no subject
[ His brow knits as he mulls that over, trying and mostly failing to reconcile the idea with his own limited experience. Pain and trust were part of training, he understood, but not in the sense where you stood still and allowed someone to hurt you because you trusted them. You were supposed to trust a teammate to not hurt you, unless they were being controlled, in which case they would prefer that you disable or free them as swiftly as possible. A controlled teammate wouldn’t appreciate being allowed to inflict damage.
Watching grown men manhandle their young, apparently helpless playthings doesn’t seem like trust at all, although most of them are putting on a display of enjoying it or even begging for their tormentors to continue. The sexual gratification looks one-sided as well, except where two-- pets, he supposes, that’s what Robin called them-- are putting on a show for the benefit of an audience, toying with each other teasingly. They seem desperate for attention, and a couple even glance his way repeatedly for some reason he can’t fathom.
Fortunately or unfortunately, he’s saved from having to form any kind of reply to that or to the man asking if he’s Robin’s master by Robin himself, pursuing the mission and engaging the mark with the kind of dedication that Superboy grudgingly admired. Kaldur and Robin were usually the ones to count on to remember mission goals when the rest of them got distracted or separated.
The mark wastes no time taking advantage of Robin’s size, pulling him into his lap. Superboy has never really seen his teammate as small before, at least not in the context of how tiny he is compared to an average adult male. Everyone seems small to Superboy, who is himself smaller than Superman, but Robin had never come across as vulnerable or fragile despite barely coming up to his chest. In training he was always fast, controlled, and easily more capable than Kid Flash. Now the only thing he can see is how tiny his wrists are in the mark’s grasp, how easily he pushes and pulls Robin into the position he wants.
He grits his teeth at the groping and glances away, catching that small noise. It had sounded… unfeigned, inasmuch as he knew what real and faked moans sounded like, but Robin was trained in infiltration and other sneaky shit. Maybe this was old hat to him. Maybe he went out and did this every weekend with his mentor, who knew. ]