Turncoat

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

Summary: Plans go awry and get derailed. No matter how much time passes, real love never really goes away

Warning(s): Spanking; major spoilers for the season five finale; minor spoilers for the rest of the series; violence; AU; mentions and implications of sex

Pairing: Slade/Oliver - slash

Author's Note: I've figured it out. Slade and Oliver are my current favourite to write about. So, as a forewarning, expect a lot more fics centring around the two of them.

And this was not what I had planned. Really. This story took an entirely different turn to what I initially had planned.


"I killed your mother. And for that, you should have killed me."

Oliver looked searchingly into the face of his one-time mentor. The difference in Slade now compared to Slade driven by the mirakuru was staggering; the shadows of guilt that haunted the older man's face was as familiar to him as his own. "Maybe this is why I didn't," he said quietly.

"A life for a life? That isn't how I think anymore, kid. Even if it was, helping you save your son couldn't even touch on the amount of lives lost because of me."

A part of Oliver had played this meeting between the two of them over and over in his mind. And he'd assumed he'd get at least a small amount of satisfaction from seeing Slade brought so low; the man who'd betrayed and hurt him perhaps worse than anything else he'd experienced since being shipwrecked on this cursed island.

But the man who tortured you isn't him, a small voice whispered inside his mind. This is the man who took care of you. Who protected you. You wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for him.

There was a big part of Oliver that wanted to let Slade take command; direct him, lead him. If there was a man Oliver trusted at his back when he was in full control of his mind, it was Slade. It would always be Slade.

But it was clear the older man was tormented, even if he seemed resigned to it. Oliver needed to find his son, but he needed to do that alongside a Slade who was not only in full control of his mind, but wouldn't do anything stupid due to his feelings of guilt.

It wasn't the timeframe that made Oliver hesitate or second-guess himself. Before the mirakuru had taken full hold, Slade had been his mentor in every way that counted. Including taking care of disciplining Oliver when it was necessary; more times than Oliver had been happy with, to be honest, even if, ultimately, he had found himself agreeing with Slade's assessment.

The mask was halfway to Slade's face when Oliver said, "Wait."

The other man's smile was more like a grimace. "You've changed your mind."

"About trusting you? No. But I'm not going to let what the mirakuru did to you stand as a barrier." Oliver looked at the unconscious guard. He wouldn't wake up before Oliver implemented his plan. When he did, he'd either wise up and get himself off the island, or he wouldn't. Oliver couldn't force the man to save himself.

"As a barrier to what?"

Oliver looked at Slade, but the other man's face didn't reveal what he was thinking. "I know you feel guilty."

"Kid, you've just told me your son's in danger. We don't have time for a heart to heart." Slade hadn't put his mask back in place, though.

"I'm not suggesting we have a heart to heart. I'm suggesting I help you refocus and get at least a little way past the guilt." Oliver paused to gather his thoughts. "I need to know it's not going to make you do something stupid or dangerous. Something that would harm you."

"You need my help. And you've given me the means to find my son. I'm not going to do anything to jeopardise that." Without taking his eye off Oliver, Slade placed the mask down. "Don't project how you feel onto me, kid."

Oliver frowned. "I'm not…."

"Come here."

It was as if the years fell away and Oliver and Slade were on the island alone…before the mirakuru. Before Shado. And Slade was about to take Oliver to task for doing something he shouldn't. But Oliver wasn't that kid anymore and he stood his ground. "You said we don't have time for this."

Slade held his hand out. "One…."

Oliver's eyes widened. "You're counting?"

"Two…kid, you really don't want to know what'll happen when I get to five. Three."

If he fought, Oliver could probably stop Slade from implementing the punishment. Probably. His stomach clenched and his jaw tightened as he stared at Slade's hand, held implacably out. "We can't just go back to the way things were before," he whispered. Memories sparked and flared inside his mind. Cuddling up to Slade when it got cold at night. The first time they'd shared a kiss and Slade's stubble had scraped Oliver's lips, leaving him raw and aching for more.

"Four."

Oliver's shoulders slumped and he wiped a hand wearily across his face. As if of its own accord, his hand rose to meet and grasp Slade's. He was pulled forward, off balance, so he had to either lean into Slade or fall.

Where their bodies pressed together, heat followed. Slade's hand cupped Oliver's cheek, thumb ghosting over his lips. And then Slade's mouth replaced his thumb and he was kissing Oliver hard, intense, probing.

Oliver's knees weakened and he found himself clinging to Slade to keep his balance. The beard scraped his chin and lips, but the pressure shot straight to his groin and he had to stifle a groan.

Slade pulled back and kissed the lobe of his ear and Oliver shuddered as his whole body rippled. "Slade…." The word was part plea, part protest.

There was a low, dry chuckle and then Slade was moving. Oliver went without protest, but couldn't help a low whine when he found himself settled over the other man's knees. Slade had found a chair somehow and now Oliver was bent over the older man's lap, his ass the highest point of his body and his palms braced on the floor to keep his balance.

The first crack of Slade's hand on his bottom made Oliver flinch. He wriggled, testing the other man's grip and finding it firm. The next smacks were even harder and seemed to land right on top of the previous. Biting his lip to keep any sound from escaping, Oliver snaked his arm around Slade's leg, holding on.

The smacks continued until Slade's hand reached his thighs. Oliver's bottom was warm, but not uncomfortably so. The heat travelled between his legs and as Slade rubbed his bottom through his pants, Oliver felt himself growing hard.

The next round of smacks was harder and Oliver whined low in his throat, clenching his teeth so he wouldn't whimper. He grit his teeth as Slade's fingers slipped into the waistband of his pants, pulling them down and leaving his boxer-clad bottom exposed.

The smacks were harder now, or possibly felt that way because his bottom was growing more sensitive. Oliver writhed around on Slade's lap, the friction of his groin on the rough material of Slade's pants making him grow even harder. Each heavy-handed smack drove his hard-on into Slade's leg and his groans weren't just of pain anymore.

When Slade paused to pull his boxers down, Oliver's cheeks heated as they caught on his erection. Slade said nothing as he reached under Oliver to free his boxers, even though his fingers brushed against Oliver's throbbing erection and his breath caught in his throat at even that light touch.

The smacks echoed loudly now. Despite his erection, Oliver couldn't help squirming and writhing. The spanking hurt, but the mingling between the pain of the punishment and the constant friction on him from rubbing against Slade's pants leg, Oliver's head spun. It was dizzying and he threw his hand back, certain that if Slade continued, he would lose complete control over himself.

"No, kid." Slade's voice was firm but not cruel. "You don't block. Remember?"

Oliver did remember and he couldn't help whimpering, tensing up in preparation as Slade held his arm pinned to the small of his back.

When Slade's hand crashed against the underside of Oliver's right cheek, pain exploded in one of his most sensitive spots, but it also drove him further against the other man's leg. Gasping, he tightened his grip on Slade, shifting position to stop the friction.

And then Slade's hand crashed against his left cheek, driving him forward again.

Oliver groaned, clenching his teeth and gripping Slade's ankle tight, his nails digging into and tearing fabric. "Slade, please…!"

Slade's hand came to rest on Oliver's burning right cheek. "Am I hurting you?"

Fighting back the moisture pooling in his eyes, Oliver thought seriously about the question. He knew the older man wasn't asking about the spanking. That was pain he could handle. But Oliver had no idea how to handle the fact the spanking was actually turning him on and he was in danger of losing control. He pressed his cheek against Slade's leg, rubbing against the older man. He wanted to give up the tight control he had over himself and his emotions. He wanted to lean on Slade, but….

"Kid." Slade's voice interrupted his thoughts. "It's a simple question."

"It's not that simple." Oliver drew in a ragged breath. "I can't…I know you can feel it. This shouldn't be turning me on."

"Why?"

"I…." Oliver's breath caught and hitched. "Because…it's a punishment. Isn't it?"

"And what do you think I'm punishing you for?"

Oliver held his breath, his mind racing. A thousand reasons flittered through his head, but there was only one that sprang to his lips. "Because I did this to you," he whispered hoarsely. "I turned you into a monster. I'm…responsible…for everything."

"I told you to give me the mirakuru."

Oliver shook his head, unwilling to let go of his own blame. "Even if you hadn't, I would have given it to you anyway. Even if you'd protested…." His voice dropped lower as tears began to trickle out of his eyes. "And I would do it again," he whispered. "If it meant I'd get you back." His teeth sank into his lip, to stop himself from bursting out with how much he'd needed Slade…how lonely it had been when the other man hated him so intensely and strongly. "You should...use your belt. Or mine. Hurt me. Not…not whatever you're doing."

Slade gently squeezed his right cheek. "Here's the thing, kid. This spanking isn't about punishment. If I wanted to properly punish you, I'd have no problem increasing the strength, just using my hand, to break you down. But I am never going to use a belt. I'm never going to 'hurt' you. I did too much of that already."

"Because I deserved it."

"No, kid." Slade continued gently rubbing his bottom. "When I finally escaped the island, I was still obsessed with you. I was still obsessed with hurting you. Destroying you. Because, as far as the mirakuru was concerned, I had to get rid of my weaknesses."

"Weaknesses?" Oliver was listening in spite of himself.

"Don't take it the wrong way, kid. When I was injured badly enough to need mirakuru, you were what drove me on. I never wanted to lose you. Coming back to myself when I was imprisoned here was all the harder because I realised I was the one who had driven you away."

"I don't know what you're saying."

"What I'm saying, kid, is quite simple." Slade leaned right over to whisper in his ear, "You're my biggest weakness…and my biggest strength. I love you, Oliver."

At hearing those words, Oliver stilled. His bottom throbbed and burned, but his groin was still throbbing. He carefully pushed himself off Slade's lap. He then slid onto it, leaning forward and kissing the older man hard.

Slade responded with enthusiasm, cupping the back of Oliver's neck and drawing him in close.

Oliver pulled away to kiss Slade's neck, a massive sense of relief and affection going through him. "I love you too," he whispered, nuzzling in close. "But now I've got this thing I need you to help take care of…."

Laughing, Slade situated Oliver more fully on his lap, reaching down to begin stroking his throbbing erection, even while he returned to Oliver's lips, his beard scraping.

Nothing had ever felt better.

The End