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“You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that, Little T.”
Dick comes up out of his back handspring smoothly, smirking across the training mat at his new “brother.” Jason is scrawny, but he has a lot of fight in him, which is probably why Bruce snapped him up instead of putting a bullet through his head for stealing a couple tires off the Owlmobile. A gutsy move for anyone, much less an omega.
Jason scowls, standing there in Dick’s hand-me-downs: the same gray and red tunic-and-cape number he wore when he was that age, complete with scaly shorts. Under his thin domino, Dick can see his cheeks are as red as those shorts, flushed with the labors of a hard workout session.
“Fuck off,” he says, tightening his grip around the hilt of a throwing knife. “I told you, I think I’m coming down with something. Can’t we take a break already?”
“Owlman will kill me if I let you slack off,” Dick chirps, already advancing on Jason again. “So stop whining, ‘kay?”
He lunges forward, and they engage in another quick, brutal skirmish. Dick has years of training on him, plus a far more agile body, but Jason fights hard and knows his way around a blade. He’ll be a deadly one in time, after Bruce molds him and shapes him into something better than the underfed little stray he is now. He’s learned well in his short time there. About a month by Dick’s count, and he’s been keeping very good track of the calendar.
But Jason’s young and inexperienced, and it’s easy to counter his moves. Maybe it’s cruel of Dick, messing with the kid like this. Letting him get a good blow in only to fake him out and hit back twice as hard. Dick’s never been motivated to cut back on his cruelty, though, and how can anyone blame him?
After all, most alphas go a little crazy when they smell an omega in heat.
Either Jason’s young enough that he doesn’t know what’s happening (which Dick doubts, considering he’s been on the streets of Gotham long enough), or he thinks Dick is dumb or kind enough to take his word for it about some nebulous illness. For all his tough-guy posturing, Jason’s naivety is so potent that Dick can almost taste it in the air, cloying sweetness taunting him to keep going.
It’s the high kick that does it in the end. Jason’s bare leg sails up toward his head, and Dick dodges the blow, but gets a face full of Jason’s pheromones for his efforts. His mouth waters. In the blink of an eye, he grabs Jason by the ankle, swinging him off-balance and throwing him to the floor.
He’s on him before Jason can do much more than push himself up on his elbows. Legs on either side of his waist, he slots a hand firmly between Jason’s shoulder blades to shove him face-first back down against the floor. His other hand wrenches the knife from Jason’s grip, tossing it to lodge in the wall across the room.
“Hey—! What’s the big deal?” Jason huffs, cheek smashed up against the training mat. His voice is an octave or two higher, breathless from the exertion of fighting so hard in his condition. “Okay, you win, Dick. Let me up.”
“Poor thing,” Dick says, ignoring the way Jason struggles beneath him. “Hard to concentrate, huh? I bet it is.”
He leans down, taking a slow, deep whiff of the scent coming from Jason’s neck. A potent cocktail of apprehension, adrenaline, and, drenching it all, the overwhelming desire to be claimed. It may not be a conscious desire, but it’s what his body wants, he can tell. It’s what all omegas want, whether or not they’ll admit it.
And what sort of older brother would Dick be if he didn’t spoil his new sibling?
“...Dick,” Jason repeats, as Dick trails a hand down his back, over his hip. “Dick, h-hold on. What are you—?”
“ Shh. ” Dick presses a kiss to the spot just under Jason’s ear, right where his scent is the most concentrated. Snakes his tongue out to lick the skin there, just to feel Jason shudder underneath him. “Let me take care of you.”
He thinks Jason says something else after that, but he doesn’t care enough to listen. Not when Jason’s scent is so thick, he can taste the pheromones in the sweat on the back of his neck. He has notoriously bad self-control when it comes to omegas in heat; Bruce has threatened to have him neutered more than once, probably not as a joke.
But Jason doesn’t protest for long. He comes apart under Dick’s hands and mouth, far too inexperienced to do much more when he’s in the thick of his heat. Dick has smelled it on him for the past few days, so he knows that, by now, the desire must be unbearable.
Bruce may actually follow through on his threat once he gets back from his Syndicate meeting. Until then, Dick intends to have his fill with the new kid.
When he flips Jason over to get a better look at him, his face has already lost all its viciousness. Gone are the pinched brows, scrunched nose and bared teeth, and in their place, Jason gapes, eyes half-lidded behind his mask. His lower lip is bleeding like he’s bitten it open, and Dick swoops down to lick it clean.
Jason’s tongue finds his, and in a final act of surrender, he reaches up to hold onto Dick’s face like he’s terrified he’ll vanish if he doesn’t hold him close. Dick drinks in the affection, bearing down against Jason with his mouth and his hips alike.
He pulls back a moment later to admire the sight of Jason breathless and whimpering, sweat beading on his brow and staining the pits of his uniform. He snatches one of the throwing knives off Jason’s utility belt and uses it to slice through the fabric, both the tunic and the shirt underneath it splitting easily under the cold steel.
Jason’s skin splits, too, just a little. It makes a pretty red trail for Dick to follow when he kisses down Jason’s torso, inching closer and closer to the source of that delicious scent with every second. He can already smell the sweetness of Jason’s slick, mouth watering as his fingers find the waistband of those tiny shorts.
Before he can pull them off, he feels Jason tugging at his hair. He looks up the length of Jason’s body, at his ruined shirt and the little lines of blood and spit that drip down his skin.
“Dick,” he says, and he sounds like he’s trying to tell him something. “ Dick… ”
Dick smiles. “Don’t worry, Little T. I’ll take it easy on you.”
“No,” Jason says, frowning. He looks like he might want to say something else, but Dick takes that chance to yank down his shorts and hike Jason’s legs up, holding them together so he can admire the wet little hole between them. “Oh—!”
Jason’s already soaked, slick dripping from his twitching entrance. Dick can’t wait a second longer to start licking him clean, hands tight on Jason’s thighs to keep him as still as possible. Jason jerks violently, yanks at his hold and tries to tug him away by his hair, but Dick ignores him, pressing his tongue inside. He fucks it in and out, fast and insistent, that’s when Jason finally seems to see the light. Dick hears him keen above him, and suddenly those hands are pulling his head closer, encouraging him to continue.
Dick would smirk if he wasn’t too busy tongue-fucking his little brother’s asshole. He settles for humming happily against him, letting the vibrations from his voice drive Jason even crazier.
It’s not long before those sinful noises get the better of his self-control. Dick pulls back, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and flips Jason over again, hoisting his hips up. Jason says nothing, does nothing except what any omega would do in that situation: he obeys.
What a good kid.
Unzipping his spandex to free his own cock, Dick mounts Jason, hands on either side of his waist, teeth poised to bite that special spot on the back of Jason’s neck. Starts to dig his teeth in at the same time he pushes forward, killing any of Jason’s remaining protests on his tongue.
Jason goes slack under him, and, with how wet he is, it’s a simple matter to shove all the way in. Dick doesn’t even let Jason finish his initial wail before he starts to fuck him in earnest, growling as he snaps his hips back and forth.
Once they start, it doesn’t last long. Dick doesn’t need it to. He’s satisfied enough just fucking Jason hard and fast, letting his screams echo off the walls of the Roost. The kid’s muscles tense around him, milking his cock, and Jason even starts to rock back against him after a while, dripping precum messily beneath them.
He comes first, muffling his shout against Jason’s bruised neck. Jason keeps rutting back against him until his muscles flutter and he comes too, splattering more mess beneath them, moaning helplessly and clawing at Dick’s hands like he’s not sure whether he wants to keep him close or wrench them away.
They collapse onto their sides together, Dick finally releasing Jason’s neck to pant heavily against the back of his head.
It feels like hours before Jason’s able to think. Before he’s able to recognize where he is, who he is, and who that arm slung over his waist belongs to.
The memories don’t come to him all at once. Their entire training session is blurry; he never wanted to do it in the first place, but Dick had been the one to call him out of his room, to insist that they use Owlman’s time away to go over a few things.
Talented, handsome Dick, with that smile that never quite seems to reach his eyes.
A sinking feeling slowly starts to dawn on Jason as the arm around his waist curls and draws him closer. Now, without the haze of his heat drenching him and slowing him down, now he can see. He can see what being a Talon really means, beyond the money and the power and the safety from Bruce’s gangs. He can see, much as he never wanted to believe it, why Owlman didn’t kill him back in that alley.
Weirdly, he remembers that before he remembers the details of what Dick did to him. He remembers being found with two tires in his run-down shithole of an apartment. He remembers Owlman’s mouth going from a thin, straight line to the tiniest little upward curve. At the time, he wasn’t sure why it sent a shiver down his spine.
Now, feeling that same miniscule smirk against the back of his neck as Dick presses against him, he can identify it. Bruce and Dick don’t smile the same way normal people do; they smile like predators, flashing their fangs, promising to devour you the second they get a chance. Jason wants to kick himself for not seeing it earlier, but he wasn’t thinking clearly back then. Too charmed by the idea of a big house and lavish meals and the importance of being by the side of the biggest crime boss in Gotham City. Too dazzled by the promise of all the things he’s never had before.
Money. Control.
A family.
Behind him, Dick starts to stir some more. The scent of rut hangs thick in the air, and the hand around his waist creeps lower as Dick lays too-gentle kisses in the dip between Jason’s shoulders.
“It’s okay,” he mutters when Jason tries to tug away. “Don’t worry. Big brother’s got you. I’m here.”
Jason doesn’t know if that’s better or worse than being alone.