Work Text:
The first thing that Babs thinks when she wakes up is not again.
It's a strange thought, and it doesn't really make sense. The situation is familiar enough, she supposes - she's laying against a cold floor, rough concrete biting into the soft skin of her cheeks. Her hands are bound behind her, tightly enough that her fingers throb with lack of proper circulation.
When she had been Batgirl, this was a more common occurrence than she likes to think about. Tied up in a warehouse by some crook, maybe in a stupid, elaborate death trap, maybe just with a gun pointed to her head. It would make sense if her sense of déjà vu was some lingering memory of all those times.
But if she's being honest with herself, she knows that she was thinking of something else.
Babs shifts very slightly, twisting her wrist to test the bonds. Her head is pounding, a roar of pain that makes it difficult to think. An attack on the Clocktower - Pettit's thugs, trying to excise the brains of the Blue Boys. She can vaguely remember rushing through the secret passages, Huntress' furious shouts as she turned on her allies, the feeling of Dick's fevered, ragged breath as he carried her.
Oh god - Dick. Babs swallows thickly, her face feeling suddenly hot. The Strong Men had taken her alive, but would they have done the same for Nightwing?
Slowly, she cracks one eye open. It's hard to see much without her glasses, but there isn't much to look at. The room is small and dim, a single, precious candle the only source of illumination. There's a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner, but Babs can't make out what's in them - only that someone is sitting on the edge of one, head hanging low.
Babs squints, letting her vision adjust to the low light. It takes a moment, and her heart skips a beat when she recognizes who it is.
Huntress. Helena.
It's impossible to see her expression - the dark curls of her long hair obscure her face. Despite that, Babs can see the exhaustion that haunts her. She seems as though she can barely keep herself upright, her shoulders slumped at a low angle, feet splayed haphazardly on the floor.
She isn't sure if Helena's here as a prisoner - or as her warden.
"Huntress," Babs calls, keeping her voice quiet. The room won't be bugged - nobody has access to that kind of technology in No Man's Land - but that didn't mean that someone wasn't outside listening.
Slowly, Helena looks up. Her eyes look pitch black, pupils swallowing her brown irises almost entirely. Babs can feel her gaze intensely, as though she were being pulled into Helena's orbit.
There's a nasty bruise blooming on her cheek, dyeing the skin a harsh purple. Babs wonders if it was Dick who put it there.
"Is Nightwing alive?" she asks, her voice a croaking whisper.
When Helena nods, a flood of intense relief rushes through her. She lets her head drop back to the floor, and she sighs, low and long.
"If Pettit has his way, he won't be for long." Helena's voice also sounds rough - as Babs looks closer, she can see that there are bruises peeking out from underneath the high collar of her cape. "So if you have an escape plan, now would be a great time to use it."
Babs stared at her. "How the fuck would I have an escape plan already?"
"I don't know." Helena's usual vitriol-sharp tone seemed dull - almost uncharacteristically soft. "You're the girl with all the answers, aren't you?"
"Only on good days. Today has not been a very good day."
Helena actually laughs at that. Babs wasn't sure what she expected, but the sound is strangely sweet - the kind of laugh that makes you want to make a fool of yourself, just so you can hear it again. "Yeah. You can say that again."
There's a shuffle from behind the wall, and before Babs can try to pinpoint what the sound is, the door suddenly swings open with a loud bang. Pettit himself looms in the doorway, and as soon as they lock eyes, he points the barrel of his pistol directly at her face. Her expression doesn't move at all, but she can't stop the ugly, shameful twist in her stomach at the sight.
For her part, Helena sounds deeply unimpressed when she speaks. "Really, Pettit? She's tied up on the fucking floor."
He doesn't respond at first, just stepping further into the room. A few of his lackeys follow him, the small room feeling even more claustrophobic as they press inside. The candle flickers, their shadows slithering across the walls ominously.
"Yeah, but she's a crafty bitch, isn't she? She might've even gotten away if it wasn't for your help, Huntress."
He doesn't sound grateful. He sounds angry.
He must suspect that Helena was trying to help her and Dick escape. Babs' throat bobs, and she instinctively casts her eyes around the room. Four hostiles, all armed. Even if she had her chair and batons, Helena and her wouldn't be able to take them all out before one of them got gunned down.
"Yes, thank you so much Huntress." Babs calls sweetly.
"Shut up." Pettit snaps, aiming a kick directly at her stomach. Babs grunts as the wind is knocked out of her, and she can't stop the instinctual wet gasp for air that escapes her mouth. She isn't ashamed of it - it's involuntary, after all. But the way that Pettit looks at her afterward makes her skin crawl.
Helena stands, and Babs can see the tight clench of her fists. "That's enough."
"Oh?" Pettit's gaze finally - thankfully - turns from Babs, landing squarely on Helena. "I'm surprised. You've never minded roughing up prisoners before."
"Yeah, because our other prisoners are have all been scum." Helena glances at her, for just a fraction of a second. "She's a cripple, for god's sake."
"She sure is." Pettit laughs, and there's something wretched in the sound. The room seems to darken, and she's hyper-aware of the other men surrounding her, gazes all fixed on her. "You think we should go easier on her, then?" He cocks his head, smile widening. "Maybe we can have a different kind of fun."
Babs can feel the weight of his words settle on her skin, and she can't stop the shiver that runs through her. She's determined not to beg, though. She doesn't want to give them the satisfaction.
Pettit steps forward, and in an instant Helena is standing between them. "No."
"No?" Pettit leans close to her face, and Babs feels her heartbeat pick up as Pettit presses the barrel of his pistol directly against Helena's stomach. "Don't you think that my men deserve a little relief, huh? A celebration for a job well done?" His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and she can see the spittle shine in the candlelight. "Maybe you want to volunteer instead?"
Helena's entire body is tense, almost perfectly still. The only part of her that's moving at all is her hands - her tightly-balled up fists are trembling, ever-so-slightly. Babs is sure that she's the only one who notices at all.
Surely she won't do it. The Huntress might be more of a hero than Babs had initially thought, but there was no way she was throwing herself under the bus to save Babs' skin. Besides, it would be deeply stupid. Babs would probably get raped anyway, and then Helena would have truly and thoroughly ruined her position in the Strong Men. Odds were that they would both be dead before the night was out.
"You're not fucking her." Helena says, and Babs feels her heart sink. Shit. "You're not fucking her because she's mine."
What?
"What?" Pettit says, eyes widening in clear shock.
"You heard me." Helena tilts her chin up slightly. "I was the one who brought them both in, wasn't I? I want her. If you're so desperate to get your cock wet, you can go shove it in the pretty boy. He seems like more of your type."
One of the other men laughs, but is quickly cowed by a nasty look from Pettit. When he looks back at Helena, the anger is still clear on his face - but he looks more curious than anything.
"You're a dyke, huh?" He lowers his gun, but Babs' head is swimming too much to feel any relief. "I knew there was something off about you."
Helena smiles, but there's no humor in it - it feels more like grin of an ape. A warning. "Yeah. And I'm not gonna let your nasty boys have a go at the first clean woman I've seen in months." She holds up a hand, making a dismissive gesture. "So shoo. I've got her covered."
A vein pops on his forehead, and Babs thinks that he might shoot Helena tight then and there. But he doesn't. Instead, he takes in a deep, slow breath - when a smile creeps back onto his face, Babs feels like she might throw up.
"Alright. You can have her as your little prize." Pettit drawls, letting the last word linger on his tongue. "But we're not going anywhere."
One of the men laughed in nervous disbelief, but the rest were silent. Babs could feel their eyes on her prone form, how they lingered on her chest, her ass, her legs.
No doubt they were fantasizing about how they would use her. How helpless she would be from fighting back. Babs took a deep breath in, trying to calm herself, but her heart was pounding in her chest.
Helena's face is very, very still. Babs can't hear anything over the roar of blood in her ears. "This isn't some shitty lesbian porno. You'll get the hell out if you know what's good for you.
"Uh-uh." Pettit wags his finger condescendingly. "I really do think they deserve a treat. They won't touch her - but they get to watch." His eyes narrowed, and his voice grew lower. "Unless you don't really want to fuck her?" He cocks his head slightly. "If you actually want her to be yours, then I think it's only fair we get to see you make that claim. Think of it as your chance to prove that you're really one of us. One of the boys."
For a moment, Babs thinks she's about to fold - she hesitates just a little too long, stands just a little too still. But then she turns around.
There's a wildfire in her eyes as she crosses over to where Barbara's laying, the candlelight reflecting across her dark pupils. Babs knows that look. That mad, bloody desire for revenge.
Babs jerks, suddenly reminded of the first attempted assault on the Clocktower, all those months ago. When Helena had been protecting her - as Batgirl. Babs had pointed the scope of her rifle right at her skull, filled with the sudden need to pull the trigger. To punish the person who had dared to revive Batgirl - the piece of herself she had long since buried.
But she isn't a killer. Not like Helena is.
If they get out of this, all of these men are going to die.
A smile crosses Helena's lips, the corners of her lips lifting slightly. "Alright, bastard. Have it your way."
"Huntress-" Babs calls out, nerves getting the better of her. Oh god, this was really happening, wasn't it? It didn't seem to make any sense, even though Babs knew every moment that had lead to this moment.
It didn't matter, anyway. Helena didn't acknowledge her at all - she just leaned down.
Babs barely feels it when Helena settled on her hips, but a moment later, Helena's lips are pressing against hers. She sucks in a sharp breath, and a second later, Helena pulls away. "Keep your eyes on me," Helena whispers, just barely audible.
Does she have a plan? Babs isn't sure. It's hard to think when she kisses her again. Her lips are warm and soft. Babs closes her eyes for a moment, the feeling overtaking her.
Helena is beautiful. Of course she's beautiful. Babs had known this for a long time. She had… thought about her, her time with Dick. She had told herself that it was just plain old jealousy, but she always knew that wasn't true.
The dark, tight curls of her hair. Her perfect, full lips. Babs had never kissed a woman before, but god, she had thought about it.
It's horrible that her first time is like this. Babs head swims and she squeezes her eyes shut. She wishes her wrists were unbound, just so she could -
She doesn't know.
Helena groans into her mouth, sitting up. She pulls out something from her holster with a click, and there's a muffled shout of surprise - Babs can't see, but she knows it's a weapon. A second later, Helena laughs, easy as anything. "Calm down. You wanted a show, didn't you?"
There's a murmured laugh shared between the men, and Babs shivers. There's a snick, and then her wrists are free.
She can't help the grunt that escapes her lips at the sudden press of blood that rushes into her hands. They ache, the rope having been tied far too tight. Fingers massage into her palms for a moment, and her skin prickles. Helena's hands feel so good in hers, and Babs sighs - the gesture is oddly tender.
Then Helena grabs her wrists and pushes them above her head. Babs can actually feel it when Helena grinds down against her this time - it's faint, but it's there. Babs lets out a tiny, shaky breath - almost a moan.
No, she - she doesn't want to enjoy this. She doesn't think Helena wants her to enjoy this; as fucked-up as this is, this is Huntress' plan for their escape. But when Babs' eyes flutter open, her gaze locking with Helena, she feels her heart flutter.
She looks hungry. A faint blush is creeping out from under her mask, her tan skin turning a beautiful, deep pink. Babs can't help but stare, stare at the way her lips are wet with spit, shiny in the candlelight.
When Helena leans down and presses her tongue into Babs' mouth, she moans. She can't help it - the sudden fullness of her mouth has her head spinning. It feels so good, tastes so good. Helena's grip on her wrists tightens, and her hips rock down harder.
When she slips a leg between Babs' thighs, Babs sees stars. It's been so long since she's been touched like this. Helena is persistent too, grinding down with a kind of single-minded focus. Her breath is loud in the darkness, and the shadows seem to swirl around her midnight-black hair. Fuck, she's beautiful.
Helena lets go of her hands - before Babs can lift them, she threads her fingers through Babs' short red hair, tugging painfully. "Stay there."
Helena's other hand drifts downward, and she rucks the edge of Babs' flowy green shirt up. She shifts as her sports bra is suddenly bared, unable to stop her gasp as Helena grips her breast painfully. The pain quickly shifts to pleasure as Helena softens her hold, rubbing a thumb over her nipple.
Babs squirms as Helena continues to toy with her, massaging her breasts with expert fingers. It's almost unbelievable - Babs had never gotten much out of playing with her own chest, and even with partners it had never felt particularly special. This is nothing like those previous times. Every time Helena gropes her, it's like she's touched a live wire - pleasure races through her body, and she has to bite her lip hard to keep herself from moaning.
When Helena's hand slips underneath her bra, Babs' eyes flutter shut. Even through her gloves, Helena feels warm. The sensation is so intimate - god, she had been trapped in that tower for so many months that she almost forgot how wonderful touch could feel.
"Pull her tits out!" A voice shouts, startling Babs from her reverie. Somehow, she had almost forgotten exactly where they were - the hungry eyes that were watching their every movement.
Helena's hand stills, and, horrifyingly, Babs finds herself missing the touch. Her voice is eerily calm as she speaks. "If you don't shut the fuck up, I'm going to rip out your guts and then stuff them back in through your asshole."
There's a titter of laughter from the men, and Helena turns back to her. There's a flicker of something mournful in her expression, but it's quickly smoothed away.
When Helena leans down to kiss her again, Babs groans as she shoves her tongue deep into her mouth. It fills her mouth with a suffocating presence, making it hard to think past the warmth, the wetness. Her hand resumes its determined assault on her breasts, and this time, Babs can't help but moan - though it's swallowed by Helena's mouth. A secret, shared between them.
Helena pulls away, leaving a trail of kisses along her jaw and throat. Babs feels the slightest graze of teeth before Helena speaks, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Don't get any smart ideas."
And then she releases Babs' wrists. Babs flexes her fingers - the ache from the rope has mostly subsided at this point, but it's still nice to have the freedom.
Before she can really appreciate it, though, a sharp pain lances through her neck as Helena bites her, hard. She can't help the surprised shriek that escapes her lips - she had been caught off-guard. Tears spring to her eyes, and she pants heavily.
"That's right, pretty girl." Helena's breath is hot against her skin. "I wanna hear all those cute noises while I mark you up. Make sure everyone knows exactly who you belong to."
Something hot curls in Babs' gut - anger. It feels strangely good, the confusing mixture of terror and arousal burned away by the flash of rage. Even though it's stupid - even though she knows it's stupid - Babs can't stop herself from grabbing Helena's shoulders, shoving hard.
Helena clearly hadn't been expecting that. She careens backward, nearly falling off Babs entirely.
There's another round of laughter, and genuine annoyance flashes across Helena's face. Babs levels a glare at her, the flush of anger sitting heavy on her cheeks.
"I don't belong to anyone." Babs snarls, "Least of all cowardly traitors like you."
Helena's eyes narrow, her mouth twisting in obvious displeasure. Lightning-fast, she grabs Babs' arms, forcibly rolling her onto her stomach. She pins Babs' arms behind her, pressing her harshly into the rough concrete.
"C'mon." Helena pants, twisting her arm. Babs grits her teeth, refusing to scream. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."
Babs can hear the silent plea in Helena's words. Don't make trouble. Don't make this worse for yourself. Babs squirms in Helena's grip anyway.
Babs lets out a shaky breath as her tight jeans are finally pushed under the swell of her ass. Someone lets out a wolf whistle, and Babs' feels a shiver of humiliation as she remembers exactly what she's wearing.
A lacy, sheer black pair of panties - god, it's a fucking thong. She had put the underwear on earlier today, knowing that Dick was coming to the Clocktower - not with any particular expectations in mind, but just to…
To feel nice. Desirable. Someone - something - beyond what everyone saw her as. The tragedy, the poor girl stuck in the wheelchair. Even if Dick never saw the underwear - which he hadn't of course, and now maybe never would - she had liked knowing she had them on.
But now, with everyone's gazes heavy on her, all she feels is shame.
Helena lets out a short, disbelieving noise. "Had plans tonight or something? A little roll in the sheets with pajama boy?"
"Fuck you." she hisses. She's almost glad that Helena has flipped her over - she doesn't want anyone to see the shine of unshed tears in her eyes
There's a quiet shuffle, and then Babs can faintly feel Helena's fingers stroking along the curves of her ass. The touch is warm with the distinct feeling of skin-to-skin contact. She must've taken her glove off.
"It's okay, baby." Helena wastes no time, sliding her fingers underneath the edge of her underwear. "I can be your boyfriend instead."
Babs tries to wrench herself out of Helena's grip, but the angle is terrible - all she manages to do is writhe. She's helpless as Helena tugs her panties to the side, fingers pressing insistently against her entrance.
Helena's touch is gentle enough that Babs can't really feel it. The only reason she realizes Helena is touching her at all from the sound - the barely audible slick noises, the quiet release of breath.
What she does feel is Helena brushing against her clit. Babs makes a startled noise, jerking in the tight grip as Helena begins to tease her - just with light, soft swipes of her thumb. Even still, it's almost unbearable. Babs feels that unwanted pleasure pool in her stomach again; she bites her lip harshly, forcing herself to focus on the pain instead.
It's hard, though. It's hard to think of anything else, especially as Helena begins to touch her harder. A whimper escapes through her teeth when Helena pinches her clit, rolling it between her fingers.
"There we go." Helena's voice is low, almost a purr. Babs' head swims at the sound. "Just like that."
Babs can't help but cry out again as Helena continues her assault - she can't believe how sensitive she feels. After the - after her injury, Babs had more or less given up on the idea of feeling much pleasure from sex, save from a vague, pleasant feeling. She barely even bothered to masturbate anymore, lack of orgasms making it feel more like a chore than anything else.
This is different. Helena wrings pleasure out of her like they had been lovers for years. Babs twists, panting as Helena plays with her, every touch electric. When she slides two fingers into Babs, the glide is effortless - Babs' cheeks burn as she realizes how wet she is.
"Hel - Huntress, wait." Babs gasps, stupidly - the panic is coming back. She hears the faint sound of a belt buckle being undone from the corner of the room, and she squirms again, more insistently. "Wait, wait, don't-"
"Shh," Helena shushes her. Babs whimpers as she feels Helena's fingers curl inside her. "Relax, baby, relax."
"I'm not - going to - ah!" Babs' eyes fly open, lips parting in surprise as Helena rubs at her insides. Helena lets out a soft groan, and Babs feels her shifting until her hips are pressed against her ass.
"Yeah, just like that." Helena shifts her weight forward, rocking against Babs as she continues to finger her open. "You're taking it so good."
Babs tangles her fingers in the soft material of her shirt, trying in vain to ground herself. All she can really think about is how full she feels, the heft of Helena grinding against her, fucking into her. She almost wishes she could see Helena's face, watch her pretty, blushing cheeks, see her eyes, dark with lust. Lust for her.
Babs moans, her cunt clenching around Helena's fingers as she imagines it. She wants to kiss Helena again, feel her tongue press into her mouth, wants to - to see her. All of her. Her mind grows hazy as she pictures Helena's body, the soft curves under her muscle, her perfect breasts, her pussy.
When Helena pushes another finger into her, Babs whines at the stretch - it's faintly painful, but it feels so good too. The whine dissolves into a moan as Helena begins to pump her fingers, her walls fluttering at the rough intrusion.
There's the quiet sound of laughter, and one of the men calls out - "Yeah, take it, slut!"
"I thought I told you to shut up," Helena snarls. When she leans over Babs' prone form, it feels almost protective - like she's shielding her from the men's hungry gazes. Babs can hardly think about that though, too preoccupied with the wet glide of Helena's fingers, the feeling of her breath against the back of her neck. "She's mine, got that?"
Babs wants to protest again, but her tongue is lead in her mouth. All she can manage is a quavery whimper, eyes rolling back when Helena bites her again. The sting of pain just adds to the fire in her stomach, the ache morphing into pleasure as Helena rubs her clit.
Helena finally releases her arms, and Babs lets them fall to her side, scrabbling uselessly at the concrete floor. Without them in the way, Helena can really press against her - she's so warm even through their clothes. As she thrusts her hips, Babs can hear the faint jingle of her golden cross.
Babs dares to turn her head, gazing over her shoulder. Helena's face is so close, the dark curls of her hair brushing against her cheek. As they lock eyes, something in Helena freezes - her eyes are impossibly huge, and despite her self-proclaimed role as the Huntress, Babs can only think of the soft, beautiful gaze of a doe.
Abruptly, Helena flips Babs onto her back, and she lands against the concrete with a whuff. She has no chance to catch her breath, Helena's lips finding hers again in an instant.
Purely by instinct, Babs wraps her arms around Helena, holding her close as they kiss. There's more shouting and jeering, but Babs can hardly hear it - Helena's breathing is loud, and she's making soft, hungry noises that Babs swallows eagerly.
From this angle, Helena can reach her fingers even deeper. Babs moans, her stomach clenching with pleasure. She feels almost like she's going to come, but that doesn't make sense - after her injury, she hasn't been able to orgasm, even using toys.
Her body doesn't seem to be getting the memo, though. She claws desperately at Helena's back, turning away from the kiss to gasp desperately for air.
Helena swoops down, pressing more kisses and bites to her neck. Babs' eyelashes flutter as she feels Helena suck dark bruises into her pale skin, making good on her promise to mark her up. For some reason, the idea makes her moan.
"Come on, pretty girl." Helena growls against her skin. "Come on my fingers."
Babs shakes her head. "I ca- I can't, ah, Hel-"
"Yes you can." She isn't understanding, but Babs can't pull together the words to explain - all she can do is whimper as Helena grinds down. "Just like that, baby. Good girl."
Babs practically screams, her cunt throbbing as her orgasm slams into her. Her eyes roll back, the darkness of the room spinning as Helena continues to shamelessly fuck her open, pleasure coasting along the waves of her orgasm - it teeters along the edge of overstimulation, but it feels so good, too.
Just as she's about to try and shove Helena off her, she sits up, pulling her fingers out of Babs with a slick sound. Babs grimaces as Helena wipes her hand off on her shirt before tugging her jeans and underwear back on with efficient movements.
They make eye contact again, but it's just for a moment - Helena quickly looks away. The blush is still heavy on her cheeks.
She stands, brushing some of the dirt off her Huntress costume - not that she needed to bother. They were all dirty, after all. Babs is confused for a moment, before she realizes exactly what Helena's done; a knife glints in her palm.
Before Babs can react, Helena's arm arcs back, the metal of the knife glinting as it flies through the air in a perfect throw. There's a loud, screeching shout - Babs rolls over, eyes widening as she sees what Helena's done.
The knife is embedded in one of the men's shoulders, blood dyeing his shirt a deep crimson. Babs' eyes widen as she sees that his pants have fallen down, exposing his erect penis. She can't help it - she shudders with revulsion. "Fucking bitch!" the man screams, wrapping a pale, shaking fist around the handle.
Around her, the men are shouting in surprise; some of them also have their pants down, and are hurrying to cover themselves as they scramble for their guns.
"I told you to shut up." Helena's voice is perfectly calm, audible even over the din.
"You're gonna die for this, whore." the man slurs, yanking the knife out. Babs winces at the gush of blood.
"No, she isn't."
Babs' eyes widen in surprise as Pettit steps forward, crowding the man against the wall. Pettit looks completely unruffled, pants perfectly buttoned, shirt still tucked in. "Because she's one of us now." He doesn't turn, but it's clear that he's speaking to Helena as he continues. "Isn't that right?"
Helena is eerily still. "That's right. I'm just another one of the boys."
Pettit laughs, clapping the man on his injured shoulder and making him whimper. "Alright. You've all gotten your spank bank material. Zip up and clear out."
When he faces Helena, he's grinning like he's just won the damn lottery. "And you - you're coming with me."
"But-"
"Ah-ah." He wags his finger for the second time in as many minutes, and Babs has the sudden, intense urge to snap it backwards. "You can have more fun with her later. We have work to do."
She looks like she's going to protest further, but she doesn't. Just gives him a short, curt nod.
As they all begin to leave the room, Helena lingers in the doorway - the last to go. For a moment, Babs thinks she's going to turn, say something to her. But she just closes the door, locking it with a deafening click.