Need To Feel

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the television series Arrow and I'm not making any money from this fic

Spoiler-free Summary: Oliver feels like he needs to be punished

Long Summary: After Laurel's death, Oliver's guilt is crippling… to the point he goes to see the one person he knows will hurt him without killing him

Warning(s): Spanking (very severe); sexual scenes between two men; violence; torture references

Author's Note: Written for the SpankVent challenge on the Livejournal community Spanking_World. This plot bunny bit hard.

Oliver knew this was a bad idea. If he hadn't been fully aware of that fact, imagining how Diggle… Felicity… Thea would react to what he was doing only served to make him even more aware of it. Not that he'd told any of them he was returning to the island. All of them had told him Laurel's death wasn't his fault. Even Lance had pulled himself together enough to voice the same sentiment.

But Oliver didn't want forgiveness. He deserved to be punished. He deserved to be hurt.

The guards hadn't spoken to Oliver, other than to check he was who he said he was. While he hadn't gone into details with her, he had arranged his presence with Waller; and had also made sure no one would be likely to disturb him until or unless he was prepared for them to.

Slade's cell was the same one he'd been in the last time Oliver had visited. This time, he was led through from the back, though he could still see through the bars as the guards came to a stop.

Slade was awake. Oliver was certain of that fact, even though the older man lay on the cot, hands clasped behind his head, eye closed… or, more than likely, narrowed to a slit.

Remembering every encounter they'd had since the Mirakuru had taken hold, Oliver wondered if what he was going to do might bring some small measure of peace to the man he'd once considered a friend… and perhaps more.

"He's already escaped once. What makes you think he won't try again?" The taller of the guards turned fully to face Oliver.

"Because he'll have no reason to try." Oliver couldn't tear his eyes from Slade. Now that they weren't battling it out, at least physically, he could see the man was aged. Slade's hair was shot through with white… there were deep lines etched into his face. He was suffering.

Slade was suffering… and while Oliver knew, if their positions were reversed, the other man would enjoy Oliver's pain, believing it was deserved, all he could feel was empathy for Slade.

The second guard banged on the cage with the barrel of his gun. "Get up and back away from the door!" he ordered.

Slade was unresponsive for long enough that Oliver wondered if the other man was going to let his defiance get him hurt. Finally, though, Slade shifted his head, his eye moving over the two guards and Oliver. Whatever he was thinking didn't show on his face, however, as he stood and retreated to the far side of the cell.

The second guard placed his hand against the scanner. Red light swept over his palm and flashed green. There was an audible click and the guard slid the door to one side.

As Oliver stepped into the cell, he heard the door slide shut behind him. While this was far from the first time he'd been locked in a cell, there was a sense of finality to it this time… which was silly, as he had complete control over when he left.

"Who did you upset to get yourself tossed in here with me, kid?"

As Slade spoke, Oliver looked at him. He was aware of the guards walking away, but facing off against the man who'd once been his protector and ally, he felt like he'd put his head in the lion's mouth. "It was my decision to come here."

"I didn't think you had that much of a death wish."

"You won't kill me. You want me to suffer first." Oliver placed his bow and the quiver on the floor, all without taking his eyes off Slade. He stood with his hands at his sides, waiting.

"What are you looking for, kid?"

Oliver wasn't even sure he knew that himself. He wasn't expecting Slade to hurt him enough to help him feel better. But he wasn't looking for his guilt to be handled. He was looking for enough pain to block it out… to feel like he was suffering for his crimes. But if he voiced that to Slade, was the older man sadistic enough to refuse based on his wanting Oliver to suffer?

Slade stood there, his face impossible to read. Finally, he asked, "So how did your allies react to you deciding to come here?"

"I didn't tell them." At least that was an answer Oliver could give.

"You're keeping secrets from them," Slade drawled. "Though that's not really so unusual. You've kept too many secrets, kid. I'm surprised you even have any allies left."

"Laurel's dead." Oliver winced at the note of raw pain he heard in his own voice.

"So you've lost a woman you love as well."

Oliver hadn't expected Slade to be able to forgive him for his part in Shado's death, but it was still painful to know how much the other man still blamed him. Slade's hatred couldn't touch on how much Oliver hated himself, though. "You know it's Christmas?" he asked suddenly. "Or close to it, anyway. If you wanted to… if you wanted to call Joe, I could arrange that. Get a phone brought in. You're not going to escape looking for me. I'm standing right here."


"Because you've taken every opportunity to hurt me until now." Even on the island, before the mirakuru, their training certainly hadn't been gentle. "And you won't hold back. Not like the others."

Slade's face finally changed as he frowned. "Having a torture wish isn't much better than a death wish, kid."

Oliver shrugged, but didn't say anything else. If he had to put a stop to it, he would. Even if he'd specifically requested that the cameras be turned off, he had ways of incapacitating Slade… at least long enough to activate the button implanted under his wrist. And he wasn't going to tell the other man the cameras were off. Instead, he pointed out, "You're getting what you want."

"You have no idea what I want."

"I think I do by now."

Slade was still and silent for several long moments, just watching Oliver. It was impossible to guess at what he was thinking and Oliver shifted from one foot to the other. Just when he was wondering if he should just leave, though, Slade said, "Take off your clothes."

"Checking me for wires?" Oliver's hands went to his tie and he unwound it, then began to unbutton his shirt. Stripping naked didn't really embarrass him, even though Slade was fully clothed and Oliver suspected he was going to stay that way. And there were far worse things Slade could do to him and probably would do to him.

It didn't take long for Oliver to remove all of his clothes. He wasn't cold… there was heating in the cell… but he felt vulnerable and exposed. He watched Slade warily, wondering if the other man was going to break his bones… hit him around hard enough to leave bruises and break ribs.

"Turn around." Slade's voice was low, but it was still an order.

Oliver turned, wondering if he was imagining the heat in Slade's eye as the older man had looked over his body. He held himself still as he felt Slade step to his shoulder, fixing his eyes on a spot outside the cell as he felt the older man's hand ghost over the brand on his back. It didn't hurt any more, but Oliver knew the exact shape and size of the brand. And he knew Slade's hand was tracing the exact marking on his back.

When Slade stepped away from him, Oliver shivered, surprised by the sudden chill he felt. He heard the older man moving, but didn't turn his head to look. If Slade had had a weapon, he would have used it already to escape. And even though he knew Slade wanted to hurt him… he believed the other man wouldn't kill him.

The feel of leather against his backside caused Oliver to tense… but he allowed himself to relax. This wouldn't be the first time Slade had belted him, after all, even if those times had been pre-Mirakuru. He didn't expect there to be any care or empathy involved in this belting; but then again, he wasn't looking for either of those.

Oliver felt Slade's hand settle on his back, pushing him forward slightly. He drew in a deep breath that he only let out when the first snap of the belt landed.

The strike hurt, but it wasn't anything like the worst pain Oliver had experienced. He clenched his teeth as he stared at the wall outside the bars, holding his breath as his own belt impacted his bare backside, down to his thighs. He let his breath out in a faint gasp as the leather burned his more sensitive spots, then wrapped his fingers around the bars as Slade began snapping the belt down from the top, covering skin already scorched by the leather.

Oliver breathed heavily, but although the strapping was painful, he was able to hold back everything barring tiny grunts. He lost track of time as he stood there, listening to the snap and crack of the belt and feeling the searing burn as the leather worked over every inch of his bottom and thighs.

Slade must have done this before… or so Oliver figured, as the man stopped the belting at the point Oliver's bottom began to grow numb. Hearing Slade step away, Oliver relaxed a fraction, taking a deep breath in and loosening the tight hold he had on the bars.

"Stay there," Slade directed.

Oliver wasn't sure what Slade thought to achieve by effectively having him stand in a corner like he was a naughty child. If it was to make him dread what might occur, the effect was wasted. Oliver had already considered everything the older man might do to him… including being his death.

Maybe Slade was right. He did have a death wish.

Even though Oliver had an innate sense of time passing, he lost track of how long he was stood there for, watching the wall and feeling the burn that was a familiar sensation, even though it had been a long time. It sent him back in his mind to a time he'd felt more at peace; at least internally. He couldn't stop himself voicing the thought in his mind. "I remember the first time you belted me."

Slade didn't respond… but he didn't tell Oliver to stop talking, which Oliver took to be a positive sign. He continued talking, his body straight and his eyes fixed on that one point. "It was when I killed one of Ivo's men with the rock. Do you remember? I was pushing you. Doing everything I knew I shouldn't." He blinked, realising the memories were making him emotional. "You took me over your knee then… and you said… you told me it wasn't punishment for doing what I had to so I could survive. But it was supposed to help me feel punished and be able to forgive myself."

Slade was silent, but Oliver was listening so intently, he could hear a faint change in the other man's breathing. He continued speaking, his voice low but still clear enough to carry to the man standing behind him. "I know you didn't hate me then… if you did, you wouldn't have saved me. Taken care of me. Protected me." He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry." The words came out quiet, barely a whisper, but they were as sincere as anything Oliver had uttered. "I'm sorry for my part in Shado's death. I'm sorry I slowed you down on the island and made you have to protect me." His voice faltered, just a little. "And… I'm sorry I did this to you… that I turned you into a monster. You wouldn't have done what you did if I hadn't injected you with the Mirakuru."

"Is that what you believe?"

It was impossible to tell what Slade was thinking from the inflection in his voice. But Oliver was certain of the older man's true nature… what had been warped by the Mirakuru; what he hoped still existed, even if it had been buried deep. "I'm not naïve enough to think you never made any mistakes before… but I know you were a good man."

"I'm not that anymore, kid."

Oliver shifted slightly from one foot to the other. "I just put myself in your hands. If you didn't have something left, you would have done more than just belt me." Even if it wasn't as personal as the first time, it was still nothing compared to what Slade could have done.

Slade didn't speak, but Oliver heard him moving closer. He felt the older man's hand on his back… tracing the edges of the brand… but he felt the way Slade's fingers trembled. And his body relaxed under the man's touch, slanting towards the hand.

"I would tell you you shouldn't be here, but I'd be concerned where else you'd find yourself," Slade murmured in his ear.

Oliver couldn't help but shiver at the feel of Slade's breath on his skin. Being naked posed another problem, as it meant he was fully exposed to the other man; unable to hide anything from Slade. He took half a step back against Slade, enough for his throbbing backside to press into the other man.

Slade's hand splayed against Oliver's stomach, pushing him closer. "You don't want to do this, kid."

"It wouldn't be the first time I've had hate-sex."

The huff of breath Slade released, ghosting over Oliver's shoulder, sounded almost like a chuckle. "I don't hate you, kid."

The words sent such a sense of relief through him, Oliver couldn't help but slump against Slade. The rough material of the prison garb scratched his skin, but it was a mild discomfort. He turned so they were stood face to face… then, without any hesitation, he pressed his lips against Slade's.

The kiss was hard and intense. Slade hadn't shaved recently and Oliver could feel the stubble scraping his skin, but he didn't care. He felt Slade pull him closer, hand stroking down over his back and he let out a small groan, pressing closer until he couldn't get any nearer to the other man.

Slade kissed deeper and harder, then pulled away so he could kiss a line along Oliver's jaw, his teeth nipping just enough to add a tiny bit of pain. Oliver moaned softly and then slid his hands up under Slade's shirt. He could feel scars covering the older man's back… but he could also feel Slade's skin; and the knowledge the older man didn't hate him added a sense of relief. He felt like he had on the island, where he'd been secure in Slade caring about what happened to him… even though this had never happened between them.

Slade's hands slid lower, over Oliver's back to caress his burning bottom. Moaning, Oliver couldn't help but arch into the touch. Slade's hands weren't soft, but the contact felt good. The pressure relaxed muscles Oliver hadn't even realised were tense.

Oliver's hands moved lower down Slade's back and he made a displeased sound when they encountered the other man's pants.

Slade's chuckle was a vibration against Oliver's skin. He took a step back; not by much, but enough for Oliver to shiver at the sudden chill.

It didn't take long before Slade was standing naked in front of Oliver… the first time he'd studied the older man without clothes on. Oliver could see his body was covered with as many scars as his own. Stepping closer, Oliver reached up and took hold of the eyepatch covering Slade's missing eye. He could feel the tension in the older man's body, but Slade didn't try to stop Oliver removing the eyepatch.

This was the first time Oliver had seen the destruction he'd wrought. Would things have been different if he'd given Slade the cure? Slade had been battling invisible demons since being injected with the Mirakuru. He'd allowed himself to be convinced by the ramblings of the man who'd once protected him… who never would have turned so vicious under his own power. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, pressing a kiss just below the ruined eye.

Slade's hand splayed against Oliver's back, pushing him closer as he kissed him, hard and thoroughly, once more.

The kiss was almost bruising in its force, but Oliver returned it with just as much. There was a time for gentleness… but this wasn't it. He needed to feel Slade. He needed this to be rough… as rough as when they were on the island, training, and Oliver's frustration had grown. Not because he couldn't learn what Slade was teaching him, but because he'd formed a deeper attachment than he'd even been aware of.

Oliver's bottom still throbbed from the belting, but he couldn't help a tiny moan that escaped when Slade's hands returned to it once more. He pressed close enough to the other man that it was nearly impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began, pulling back from the kiss so he could nip and then lick the skin.

A tiny groan came from Slade, swallowed when Oliver pressed his lips against the other man's. He pushed forward, until they hit the cot and then Slade was pulling him down with him, kissing… touching… stroking. Biting and scratching, every touch increasing the pressure until Oliver thought he would explode from the need to have the other man take him.

Afterwards, Oliver lay limp and pliant in Slade's arms, allowing the other man to kiss him… feather-light and gentle. "I really hope Waller actually did turn off those cameras," he muttered.

The End