title: Eye on the Prize
fandom: DC Comics
characters/pairings: Dick/Roy, Bullseye
rating: Teen
warnings: stupid competition, threesome
summary: Roy puts his skills to the test to win something very precious to him.
notes: this is inspired by beth. or rather, this came to me as i was trying to squick beth... enjoy, babe!!

Arsenal ran through the nightmarish corridors, driven. He wasn't sure how he knew where to go, but he knew that time was of the essence, so he didn't waste any of it by thinking.

A life was depending on him.

His heart was hammering in his chest as he grabbed the edge of the wall, turning so fast he could barely stay upright. It was just a little farther, just out of his reach, and he needed to get there, or else he would be too late, and he couldn't be too late, no matter what, he had to get there in time, he couldn't fail, not again...

There was a door ahead, and the thin bar of light at the base of the door was like a beacon. Roy pushed harder, now that his objective was in sight. He wasn't going to let anything happen...

He didn't even bother to see if the door was unlocked or not. He simply pulled out a small explosive arrow, and shot it at the handle as he approached. He had to put his arm up to protect his eyes, but he didn't stop moving, using his shoulder to burst through the door...

And he nearly fell over the edge of the banister. There was a metal walkway on the other side of the door, a large, mostly empty warehouse open below him. There were stair to his left, leading down, but where he was, he could see it perfectly...

Nightwing was hanging from chains, the top of his costume torn off, in shreds at his feet. His mask was still in place, but his body was pulled tight, his arms above his head, the thick black chains snaked over them. His wrists were wrapped in leather-encased cuffs, to which the chains were connected.

"Well, well, well, what an entrance!" The rolling Irish accent embraced each word as it was uttered, adding a depth and a texture to the ominous tones. The man in the long black trench coat spread his arms out with a ringmaster's flair, his sharp eyes pinpointing Arsenal with a twitch. "You hero types never can do anything subtle-like, can ya? Ah, well... I suppose if he were my mate, I'd be a mite bit piqued as well. But ya never can tell, can ya. He might be my mate before the night is out."

Arsenal narrowed his eyes, and leapt over the edge of the banister. "Don't even think about it, Mick."

"Clever with the insults, aren't ya? Why, that really cuts me to my core, that does." The man with the bull's eye imprinted on his forehead actually winked at Arsenal. "But I would tread with a bit more care if'n I were you. See, this handy little thing here?" He put his hand over Nightwing's abdomen, and then slid his hand up, over Nightwing's chest, over his neck, and up his arms, until his fingers tapped the casing of the slim, oblong device with the blinking red light. "I got the trigger, you see. And if I can't have him, well..."

"Arsenal!" Nightwing was using his leader voice, which sent cold shivers down Roy's arms. "Get out! Save yourself!"

"Ah, now, that's touching." Bullseye emphasized his point by flicking his thumb over Nightwing's exposed nipple. "Very sweet. Taking one for the team, like a true hero. Yer like a saint, you are, my friend. How I do love defiling pure and beautiful things..." Bullseye's tongue trailed up from Nightwing's nipple to his ear.

Roy and Dick ground their teeth in unison, practically, and Arsenal strung an arrow over his bow. "Get away from him." He spoke each word with progressively more guttural venom than the last, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Bullseye laughed. "What do you think, hot shot, ya think ya can shoot me before I can press this button? Eh? Ya wanna bet his life on it, do ya? Tell ya what..." Bullseye grinned, licking his lips as he stepped around Nightwing, his hand going around the front to rest just over Nightwing's groin. "Let's play a game, you and me."

Roy snarled.

"I even have a smashing prize." Bullseye grinned as his other hand came around to tweak Nightwing's nipple. "What do you say, archer? We'll have a little tourney, you and me, and the winner gets the prize."

"Arsenal..." Nightwing's voice communicated a low, serious warning, but all Roy could hear was the tension in his lover's voice.

"You're on, fucker. What's the target?"

Bullseye laughed again, a maniacal sound. "First, mate, we've got to pick a weapon."

They threw bottle caps at light bulbs. They threw screwdrivers at signs, aiming for specific letters. They threw keys at a bulletin board.

Each test got more and more obscure, and it took all of Roy's focus and skill to stay in the competition. It didn't seem like Bullseye was even trying, but it was obviously frustrating him that Arsenal was staying in the game.

Hours passed, until both men were grunting and sweating, suggesting wilder and more outrageous targets, and all the time, Nightwing watched, totally nonplussed.

Finally, as the dawn was beginning to peek through the windows at the top of the warehouse walls, he had had enough.

"Guys?" Arsenal was lining up his shot, trying to get a pair of scissors to hit exactly at the point of an arrow on a box, indicating which end was up. "What do you say we call it a draw? My arms are killing me."

Arsenal let the scissors sail, watching them hit their mark perfectly. He turned his head alone, meeting Bullseye's eyes.

Slowly, they began to grin.

Nightwing considered his words more carefully, wanting to kick himself as the two sharpshooters started to stalk toward him, their eyes gleaming. Swallowing hard, Dick tried to control the urge to break out into a sweat. "Um, I mean, that is... well, I think it's been clearly established that you both are just really excellent shots, and it's already morning, so maybe we can just forget the whole thing...."

"Forget?" Bullseye chuckled as he circled Nightwing, his eyes going up and down the sleek lines of the vigilante's body. "I can't forget a prize like this..." He let his finger trace down Nightwing's spine, all the way down the crack in his ass, cupping the muscular rear in his palm when he was done. "What do you think, arrow man? Think we can share?"

Roy grinned, feral. He put his mouth on Dick's neck, earning a groan from his lover, his hands tracing patterns over Dick's abdomen. "I think..." He leaned up so that he could just barely taste Dick's lips. "...there's plenty for both of us."

"Arsenal!" Nightwing tried to protest, but it came out more as a plea.

Bullseye growled, unhooking the cuffs and tossing aside the now-defused explosive. "Let's go."

Everything swirled in the heat of the moment. Dick's body was laid out, over sheets of blood red satin, his mask still in place, but nothing else to conceal his flexible, lithe body. His cock was huge, jutting up toward his stomach, the tip angry and hot. Roy pressed his nude body against Dick's back, his hands everywhere. Dick's arms were still slack from being above his head for so long, and he seemed barely able to groan in response, especially given that Bullseye was now treating his cock like a lollipop.

They tumbled over each other, and the world became nothing more than flesh and blood, hot blood pulsing under steamy flesh, and hands and mouths and skin and need. Roy was inside of Dick, Dick's back flush against his chest, his perfect body taut like a violin string as Bullseye sucked and licked and teased Dick's balls, Dick's moans and cries only fueling the haze of passion and desire that seemed to cloud everything.

Bullseye was inside of Dick, and Roy was inside of Bullseye, Roy's hands intertwined in Dick's.

Bullseye was now plowing into Dick, each thrust ending with a decisive slap of flesh against flesh, as Dick surged forward into Roy, against Roy, their mouths seeking each other out, even as they screamed for release.

When it seemed like there was a tidal wave crashing through him, Roy bolted upright in bed, screaming out at the top of his lungs, "Dick!"

There was a clatter, and the hard patter of bare feet against tile, and Dick burst out from the bathroom, his toothbrush, still foaming, hanging out of his mouth. "Roy!"

Roy blinked. Dick was wearing his tattered GSU t-shirt, and the pajama bottoms Donna had gotten him for Christmas. They were in Dick's apartment in Bludhaven, Roy having taken the weekend off to spend time with new lover.

Dick was now moving to the bed, acting exactly as if there might be some unseen danger acting on Roy. It was clearly time to say something.

Summoning up his best scowl, Roy stated most firmly, "Next weekend, no Ben Affleck movies."

Dick paused, a bit shell shocked, before he was able to respond. "Oh. No problem. Though, there is that new Colin Farrell movie that looked interesting..."

Roy fell back into bed, groaning.