The bastard entered his room as if he were walking into a place he deserved to be inside. There was no knock to ask for entry. There was no hesitation at the threshold. The bastard mercenary just waltzed into Ollie's room with all of the ease in the world.

He didn't even announce his entry. He just made his way towards the far end of Oliver's room, where there was a sturdy desk that had a laptop, a couple of family pictures, and a light mark where there had once been a vase that had held flowers.

Dinah had thrown that vase at the ground in a spurt of anger she had immediately regretted a couple of hours ago… But she hadn't made a single move to pick anything up. The flowers and shattered ceramic lay on the ground where they had initially been left to suffer. They were ignored by Ollie mostly. But the very sight of them made him remember sky blue eyes rimmed with alarming red.

He didn't deserve Dinah… Not anymore.

For what felt like a lifetime, Slade merely stalked around Ollie's room; much like a cat would stake out its surroundings while ensuring the maximum success while hunting a cornered rat. Like the hunter he was, Slade slinked around with a critical eye towards everything that could be used against him in a fight, just like he looked out for things he himself could use against Ollie.

It wasn't like Ollie would even try to put up a fight. His body was still reeling from all of the pain it had suffered at the hands of the bastard not more than a week ago. Just like his hand was still forcing him to regret everything he had ever decided to do in his life because broken knuckles were a fucking bitch. But, honestly, all of that physical pain… It was nothing when compared to everything that was hurting him inside of his mind.

Dinah had been his soulmate; his only love. She was supposed to have been the woman to change him for the better and make him continue becoming a better person. She was supposed to have been the woman he would marry and start a true family with. She was supposed to have been the woman he would grow old beside. She was supposed to have been the woman he would always be faithful to, no matter how many times he was tempted to fall.

"I'm guessing you took my threat seriously."

The right corner of Ollie's lips lifted just slightly in a restrained sneer. But the blonde merely kept his gaze forward, making a point of keeping quiet.

Slade wanted to push his buttons. The bastard wanted to make him suffer. Ollie couldn't understand why the guy wanted to hurt him like this. He just knew that the son of a bitch was just out to make him feel as much pain as was humanly possible.

"I've got to say, I was expecting a bit more bite out of you… This isn't really the Oliver Queen I've gotten to know over the few days we've spent together."

Slade's heavy boots crunched minutely over the broken vase as he made a point of stepping over its fragments. And Oliver soon felt his presence coming much too close to him, only a handful of steps away from him…

He didn't want Slade near.

He didn't want anyone close to him.

Not anymore.

Still, he remained glaring forward, keeping his gaze on the darkness in front of him.

The silence, the slowness of the movements, the softness of his voice… Everything Slade had done until then, the peaceful environment he had allowed to form… It left Oliver thinking that the mercenary would continue using his silent, cunning, and extremely strategic way of thinking to continue breaking him down. He expected scathing words about how this was the best decision he could have ever taken to keep his family happy. He expected a condescending yet soft tone that would cut through his heart like a poisoned tipped dagger.

He had not been expecting the hand that suddenly latched itself onto his hair, forcing him to move in the direction it was tugging to try and keep searing pain from exploding from his scalp.

"Hey!"

"I don't appreciate being ignored, Queen."

Suddenly Slade's frowning face filled Oliver's vision.

And white hot rage filled the younger male.

"And I don't appreciate getting fucked over and being blackmailed." He spat out with a glare directly into Slade's gray eye, making the older man's already heavy frown deepen even further. "But we can't seem to really get things we appreciate nowadays, now can we?"

For five full heartbeats, Slade remained quiet. He merely glared into Ollie's own scathing blue eyes, a deceptively blank look on his face.

Just like with the sudden grab to his head, Oliver never saw the flying knee coming. All he could do was cough as all of the air in his lungs was kneed out, forcing him to bend forward in a limp attempt to soften the harsh blow.

"I don't appreciate this mouth, Queen." The man's hand was in his hair again, his grip so tight that Oliver could feel the hair getting ripped out of his scalp. "Remember who holds all the cards here. Remember whose millionaire reputation is at stake. Remember whose team would be completely scandalized if they were to find out that he's been lying in the same bed as a contract killer."

With the bastard's inhuman strength, Slade forced Oliver's head up, up, up; until their eyes were completely leveled, the tips of the blonde's toes clutching to try and catch some floor.

Both men were tall. But Slade was tall enough to make Oliver have to look up at him whenever they spoke. So now, to be completely level with his own eyes… Ollie wasn't tall enough to look him directly in the eyes normally. He was being forced to keep his balance while trying to keep from hissing out in pain at the hand entangled in his hair.

"You're under my control, you little shit." Slade snarled directly in his face, a scathing smirk forming on his lips as a devious glint filled his eyes. "And I think I should remind you."

Oliver's eyes widened immediately, mind working fast to catch up with the meaning of the man's words. And as soon as he connected the words with what they promised, his body began to move of his own accord.

His right foot slammed into Slade's shin, causing the man's grip to loosen on his head enough for Oliver to break free from him. As soon as his feet his with solid ground, Oliver made a mad dash for his door, escape the only thought that was clear in his mind.

He hadn't even made to the door before a sharp, shooting pain burst from his calf, causing him to scream out as he fell to the floor.

"It's an interesting thing, Queen, how your ex-lover has condemned you to your fate without ever having a hope to find out about it." The man's chuckle was dark, but Oliver didn't give a damn about that.

What the fuck had Slade hit him with?!

Hissing out his pain, Ollie rolled his body so he was sitting up. He made a point of ignoring all of the pain that ran through his leg as he brought it up to his chest, only looking for one thing: to be able to see what in the world Slade had used to hurt him.

As soon as his eyes caught a glint of baby blue, his heart dropped.

It was a shard of the vase Dinah had broken…

He didn't notice anything other than the shard in his leg and the blood that dripped from it. His vision blurred until it could only focus on that. All he could do was stare with wide eyed disappointment, much too caught off guard by what his girlfriend had unwillingly and unwittingly done to him without even being in the room with him and Slade.

"That Dinah has quite the temper. Nothing like mine, as you know. I prefer a much more precise chaos."

The words that filled his ears were humored, but Ollie could hear the underlying frustration within them.

Slade had not expected him to fight back.

He should have tried harder.

He would try harder.

The blonde tore his gaze away from his injury to sneer at the older man, a sick knot forming in his stomach when he noticed how close he had gotten. The mercenary was only a couple of steps away from him, an infuriatingly proud smirk on his lips as his only eye looked over his handiwork.

He refused to look anywhere near the man's waist. There was only one possible outcome to getting injured by Slade in his room… And the man's intentions were clear in his only eye.

He fucking hated Slade's eye.

"You look good like this." Slade's smirk only became more confident as he crouched down when he was right in front of Ollie, just arm's length away from touching him. "I wonder how much better you'd look without your clothes on."

Oliver took a second to breathe in and close his eyes.

Then all he knew was the very pain he had come to expect from the bastard that had done everything in his power to turn his life into a living hell.

When Ollie woke up, it was to find the most sickening taste in his mouth. He ran into his bathroom without even trying to figure out where Slade had gone, intent on doing one thing and one thing only.

Never before would he have thought he'd actually be grateful of throwing up… But the taste of vomit in his mouth was an improvement to the taste Slade's semen had left.

This is what his life had become… How the fuck had his life taken such a downward plummet so suddenly?

The few contents that had been in his stomach were quickly wretched out in an attempt to purge himself of the reality he desperately wanted and needed to not be his own. But even once he was sure that there was nothing left for him to get rid of, Ollie stayed near the toilet, dry heaving in a desperate attempt to forget and try and clean himself to some degree.

Slade's hands were all over him.

They were traveling up his sides, digging so harshly into his flesh that they left bright red streaks in their wake.

They were on his wrists, holding the still healing flesh so tightly that what had managed to heal was, once again, bloodied and torn. They bruised his wrists, kept them down and against his floor to keep him from fighting back.

They were on his throat, squeezing hard enough to cut his breath off, but not choke him. They were working his jaw open and keeping it at just the right level of openness for his filthy, disgusting cock to force its way into his mouth and fuck him until tears streamed from his eyes.

They were inside of him... Working him open just enough for Slade to not have to completely force himself inside... But not nearly enough to keep him from tearing from the sheer size of his member.

The blonde choked back a gasp as he closed his eyes tightly, tears threatening to spill as everything that Slade had done to him the past night hit him like a fucking mac truck.

He couldn't understand why one man would be so focused on him. He couldn't bring himself to even try and understand just why in the world this insane mercenary. He didn't want to know. He didn't think he'd be able to stomach knowing just what went on in that deranged mind.

Like the past night, Slade slunk into his bathroom as he belonged.

Instead of remaining quiet, he spoke up as soon as he entered.

"I enjoy hurting you too much to tell you to stop struggling; I won't lie. But, if you were to stop, I really would not have a reason to beat you down."

Oliver didn't even try to look at him. He merely kept his eyes focused on the porcelain white of his toilet lid. He did not want to look at the things that had once been in his stomach. But he could not make himself look away from the toilet. If he dared look, he risked having to face Slade's smirking, insufferable, completely detestable face.

"I love seeing your blood smeared all over your naked, beaten body. The bruises that blossom all over your skin are beautiful flowers; purple, sick, and in bloom. And there's no greater join in my life than to fuck you so hard with my cock that even your inner walls begin to bleed."

When his hands fell on Ollie's shoulder, it felt like thunder boomed in his ears.

The grip was not as tight as the night before. But it still had enough force behind it to let Ollie know that Slade was not playing around. Everything he was saying, he meant. And he wanted to make sure Ollie understood this fact explicitly.

"I'm in a nice mood today. If you don't fight back, I'll bandage you up and won't force you into anything today." His breath ghosted right beside the blonde's ear, so soft that it almost felt caring for a second.

Ollie knew better than to believe a heartless sociopath like Slade could ever care about anyone that wasn't himself.

Still, he closed his eyes once and contemplated his choices.

If he were to try and go against Slade, then there was an extremely high possibility that he would get beaten up again. Even though it was just morning, even though they had just woken up, even though Slade had used him multiple times in the past night... There was a very loud in the front of his brain screaming at him that if he wasn't careful, Slade was going to have his way with him again. And, just like all the other times, there would be nothing he could do to stop him.

Instead, he could just do whatever Slade wanted. He could become pliant, give him everything he wanted and desired, save himself from the embarrassment and pain that came from getting his ass kicked.

The pain in his leg was numb, but it burned enough to remind him of what happened when he tried to get away.

That pain was enough for him to make a decision.

With bile rising up in his throat and disgust taking over his heart, Ollie hung his head and leaned into the mercenary's touch.

The dark chuckle that left the man's lips was not missed by him. And it ensured that the disgust he felt within only multiplied, letting Ollie know how truly despicable of a person he was. But he didn't try and say anything. He merely kept his mouth shut and allowed Slade to pull him up and away from the toilet.

Every single step he took sent a fresh new burst of pain up his leg and into his whole body. But that only made sense, seeing how Slade had made a point of twisting the broken fragment of the vase once he'd gotten Ollie onto the bed. It hurt, but, quite frankly... Oliver was thankful for this pain. It helped distract him from the pain that threatened to call his attention from his mouth and ass.

When he stood in the doorway to his room, he was met with quite a horrid sight.

His room looked like more than just one fight had taken place inside. If anything, it looked like the sight of an attempted murder that had not been completely successful.

His carpet was a dark green color, but the crimson stain of blood was clear on it. as if that wasn't enough, there was a trail of blood that had seeped into it when Slade had dragged him from where he had first hit him with the vase.

He didn't even notice that he had tightened his jaw until Slade's fingers were on his skin, massaging minutely as a loose, much more humored chuckle left his mouth.

"Calm down, kid. Like I said, you behave, I don't assert my dominance."

His fingers were hot. But they weren't a comforting like Dinah's had been. Instead, they were like a raging wild fire, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched his face.

"Now why don't you go and get bathed?" The man offered, turning Ollie around so he was facing into his bathroom once more. Luckily, he was spared having to look at Slade. "I'll get started on clean up... We can't really have this place looking like a disaster zone when Artemis is still supposed to be staying with you, now can we?"

"Don't say her name." Ollie hissed out before he could stop himself, only to immediately regret it when Slade's large hand grabbed onto his neck and tightened around him.

"I'll say whatever I damn well please, princess. I get that family's a touchy subject for you, but I don't give a fucking damn. You're an object I use whenever I want; you don't have a say in anything." After he'd said this, he shoved Oliver forward, sending him stumbling into the bathroom sink. His head didn't collide with the mirror by pure luck. "Now get the fuck in that shower before whatever's left of my good mood vanishes."

Oliver's hands held on tightly to the edge of the counter for what felt like an hour. He held on so tightly that pain sprouted up in the junctions, even more so in the hand that had most of its knuckles broken.

He forced himself to breathe in heavily, deeply... He forced his hammering heart to calm down before he suffered a panic attack. He forced himself to try and calm down so he could regain some semblance of control.

How he longed to have some control of his life once more...

With a heavy frown, he unlatched his hands from the counter and began to make his way towards the shower. Just as he stepped inside the tub, he heard Slade call out, "If I don't heart the water running in ten seconds, I'm going in there and doing whatever the fuck I want with your body, princess."

Oliver Queen had never hated anyone as much as he hated Slade Wilson.

The mercenary was uncharacteristically gentle as he helped dress Ollie's wounds. His touch was basically nonexistent on the battered archer's body, flitting over his skin with a dexterity and border-line kindness that a bastard like him should never have been capable of displaying.

After he had bathed, Ollie had been forced to parade before the bastard so he could get a full analysis of his wounds. Which he'd known had been absolutely unnecessary... Slade had made a point of applying pressure on all of his wounds the past night. On his wrist, on his calf- everywhere he had injured before, he'd made a point of injuring further.

When his eye had fallen on Ollie's bandaged hand, he'd actually been condescending enough to question where he'd gotten that from, it certainly hadn't been him. Ollie had just glared and spit out, "League duties."

He wasn't about to tell him that he'd caused that indirectly. He was not about to let Slade know that he was so inside his head that Ollie had actually hurt himself because of the very thought of him. He already had enough of an upper hand... He didn't need anything else to hold over his head.

Once he had been allowed to dress- which Slade had actually contemplated, the bastard... He'd wanted to force Ollie to walk around completely naked like some kind of animal-, Slade had forced him to move down to the first floor so he could take proper care of all of his injuries.

Now that he was finished with everything, Oliver found himself seated on his couch, feeling so dirty that not even the scalding bath he had given himself felt like any kind of relief. The bastard was rummaging around his kitchen as if he belonged; as if he owned the damn place; and Ollie could hear soft clanging and rustling as he looked for whatever it was that he wanted.

The prospect of food made by Slade was about as appetizing as eating razors coated in cat piss.

All he really wanted was a goddamn drink.

It's not like Dinah was around to tell him that he shouldn't be drinking alcohol. She wouldn't be around anymore, now that Slade had gotten what he wanted. And if Ollie got what he wanted, she would never even get close to him again. He couldn't let her get close to him again... He couldn't let her see what had happened to him. He wouldn't be able to stomach the pity.

He wasn't quite sure just how much time he spent seated on his couch. But, before he knew it, Slade was heading back towards him with a tray filled with food and two cups.

The fact that none of the things within that tray was glass or ceramic did not pass his perception. Just like he was able to see that while there were two forks, one was metallic and the other was plastic.

Slade didn't trust him to not try anything drastic... Smart man... But it wasn't like Ollie would try anything. He'd get nothing but even more bruises and injuries if he tried to fight back.

The mercenary made a point of sitting down right beside Oliver. And Ollie, repulsed by the close proximity to the sleazy jerk, tried to move away and get away from him. But as soon as he did, his iron grip found its way around his forearm and dragged him back so their bodies were touching side by side.

"It's nothing flashy. But it's food."

Oliver turned his glare onto the food he was being offered, huffed softly, but still grabbed the plate and plastic fork. He ate the eggs and bacon without even noticing their taste, just wishing to eat as quickly as possible to try and get away from the mercenary quicker.

Slade made a point of savoring his meal, though. And even though Oliver had finished in less than two minutes, he kept Ollie flushed to his side until he had finished his own food.

Oliver had no idea just what he was playing at.

But, if he was being honest... It was nice to not get beaten up.

"Tell me about your kids' schedules."

Ollie tensed immediately.

But he chose his words carefully, wishing to keep his battered body from any further injury.

"Don't you already know everything you need to know?"

"Basics." The mercenary grunted, and if Ollie heard a hint of pride in his voice, he chose to ignore it. "I know the girl is here temporarily. Just like I know the brat doesn't live with you because he lives on the shitty side of town."

Bile rose up in his throat, making Ollie feel like he could upchuck everything he had eaten... But he swallowed it down. He didn't look at Slade as he answered, though, sure that if he did... Well, the very sight of the man made his stomach churn in anxiety.

"She comes and goes as she pleases. She stayed the night with the Team, though... Some team building exercise."

"Cute."

He had to force himself to stop the sneer before it manifested on his lips. Slade was such a condescending prick.

"He chooses to stay as far away as possible from here. He only ever comes around when he needs money, repairs, or has found yet another bone to pick with me."

He couldn't bring himself to say their names. It would be acknowledging a fact he was not yet ready to face... How could he face the fact that Deathstroke knew his whole family's secret identities? How could he face the fact that it was because of him that now one of the most insane and capable villains to ever live knew the most sensitive and dangerous information a hero could ever have?

"Sounds like a charming kid." Slade commented sarcastically, and for once Ollie allowed himself to see the humor in his words.

"He's... Special."

"Must be to put up with all of the shit he says." Slade left the tray of plates on the coffee table in front of them, taking his cup as he leaned back and threw his right arm around Ollie's shoulders. "I would've knocked his teeth out with just half of the things I've heard from his mouth."

"Yeah, well you're not the nicest guy in the world..." Oliver sighed, forcing himself to not retract away from his grasp. "Why do you want to know their schedules?"

He took a sip of his drink before he answered, making a big show of being completely relaxed while in Ollie's company. "Need to know what days I'm able to crash here. Can't really stick around if there are wannabe capes running around, now can I?"

"You can't-"

"I will."

Oliver turned to him with wide, unrestrained in fear, eyes, "You're Slade Wilson. Oliver Queen can't be seen with a mercenary!"

The bastard had the gall to just give him a side smirk... He didn't even bother to look at him completely. "They won't be seen together. Oliver Queen and Mako Thomson, though, will."

Oliver couldn't stop himself from staring at him in complete disbelief and fear.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Slade finally looked him completely. And it was with the smile of a hunter that had completely trapped his prey.

"It'll be interesting to guard someone instead of try and kill them for once."

Ollie's heart dropped.

~..~..~

I love torturing Ollie. I really do. Also, Guest, para que sepas, estoy sumamente agradecida que todavía sigas leyendo. Y no te preocupes, los capítulos seguirán apareciendo hasta que acaba este cuento.

Please remember to review!