Chapter Text
Honestly, Slade isn’t expecting Dick to be home. The kid hasn’t been out on patrol in days, which means he’s either injured or in heat. And it’s not like Slade tracks Grayson’s cycle or anything creepy like that, but it has been a while since he’s been M.I.A. and Slade hasn’t seen him take any big hits. Which means that Dick is supposed to be in Gotham. At the manor, or wherever the Bats hang out when they aren’t annoying Deathstroke. Slade was meant to be in and out of the safe house that Dick doesn’t know that he knows about without any trouble. Collect the shit he needs because Grayson has been sticking his nose into Slade’s business again and leave.
Except, the scent hits Slade as soon as he slides the window open. Sweet with a hint of spice, warm at the back of his throat like a good scotch. When he drops lightly into the room it hits him full-force and he has to pause, crouched against the floorboards, to let it roll over him. An omega in heat. For a moment he considers leaving the way he came. Obviously Dick isn’t at the manor like he’s supposed to be and Slade won’t be able to get his intel without a fight. Not to mention that, even with his screwy instincts, an unrelated omega in heat isn’t exactly comfortable to be around - and Slade can’t even fuck the weird rapid-fire sparking of dormant instincts away.
Well, he could. But as much as he enjoys the flirty, not-quite sexual tension he and Grayson share, he doesn't want to. Not with Grayson. Not with any omega. They just aren’t really his thing. Which makes the fact that, at some level, the sweet, heavy scent of an omega in heat is still affecting him - even if it isn’t exactly the way it’s supposed to - extremely frustrating.
Still, it’s Grayson, and Slade has never passed up the opportunity to fuck with him before. And he does need that intel. So he straightens up and takes stock of the room.
Dick is sitting upright on the bed set against the far wall, legs crossed loosely underneath him, eyes wide as they focus on Slade. The scent of his heat is heavy in the air, pressing thickly against Slade’s skin, but the only evidence of it on Dick is a faint, attractive flush high on his cheeks and the hollow of his throat, a thin sheen of sweat, and pupils that are blown a little larger than usual. A far cry from the mindless, desperate sex toy that sexists and hallmark movies like to make in-heat omegas out to be. Dick could probably still put up a decent fight, even. Maybe Slade will test that out.
By the time Slade has made it across the room, Dick is already on his feet, reacting quicker than any normal person would be able to, heat or no heat. Quick enough that when Slade barrels into him, knocking him back against the wall with a solid shoulder to his chest, Dick manages to get his arm up fast enough to block Slade’s grab for his throat. Quick enough that, despite the harsh exhale of breath as his back hits brick, he isn’t stunned by the blow.
There’s a rush of omega heat smell as Slade presses close, and he knows that Dick must get an answering swell of alpha on his sharp inhale. Yes. There’s a metallic tang of fear that Slade isn’t used to associating with the kid. Not that Slade is really used to associating any scent with Dick - usually he’s covered in enough scent blockers to obliterate any trace of omega on him. Usually, Slade likes that - it’s easy enough to imagine Dick as an alpha when there’s no scent to prove him wrong.
There’s definitely something alpha about the snarl that rips out from between Dick’s teeth. Even Slade’s screwy instincts can’t help but flare at the challenge. He flashes teeth, growling lower than Dick could ever hope to reach. Despite the thread of fear in his scent, Dick doesn’t bare his throat in classic omega submission, just peels his lips back in another snarl, ducking his chin against his own wrist where he’s still warding off Slade’s grip.
Then, in a move that probably only Dick, and his almost supernatural flexibility, could achieve, he twists out of Slade’s grip and throws himself over the bed, rolling gracefully until he’s crouching on the other side, out of Slade’s reach.
“Slade.” His voice is surprisingly calm, no trace of that bitter tang of fear, or the stronger, heavier press of heat. “What are you doing here?”
Slade smirks. Lets his eyes trail over the curve of Dick’s bare shoulder where his sleep shirt has slipped down his arm. Dick glares, but doesn’t bother covering the skin there. “Just wanted to drop by.” He drops his eyes to the bed. Takes a deep, performative breath until he can almost taste Dick. It doesn’t particularly do anything for him, but he enjoys the way the vigilante stiffens, eyes narrowing. “But I can see you’re tied up.”
That sends suspicious confusion skittering across Dick’s face. The corner of his lip twitches again in the start of a snarl. “Get out of-“
Slade lunges before Dick can get the rest of the sentence out. It’s a long lunge and Dick makes a startled sound, clearly not expecting Slade to clear the space so quickly. One hand closes around the soft cloth of Dick’s shirt, even as the omega jerks back, yanking him forward and Dick crashes against the edge of the bed with a grunt. His hand comes up, pressing at Slade’s wrist in a move that might have broken his grip if he wasn’t wearing his gauntlet. At the same time, Slade brings his free hand round to cup the back of Dick’s neck and squeeze.
It doesn’t drop Dick the way it would most omegas. There’s a hard shudder as he fights against his instincts, but he doesn’t go limp. Of course he doesn’t. Being half-paralysed whenever an enemy gets a good grip on his neck is a weakness the Bat would never allow.
Still, it gives Slade the opportunity to twist his wrist out of Dick’s grip and catch the omega’s own instead. Gives him the opportunity to heave him onto the bed. Dick recovers his wits before Slade can properly pin him, but he manages to press him back into the pillows, even as Dick twists beneath him. One of Dick’s feet comes up to plant itself against his chest and kick, but Slade throws his weight over him, trapping his leg back against the bed. Dick bucks, a little desperately, and Slade rolls his hips down, because he can, even though the weight of his armour means he can’t feel Dick against him.
A sharp sound - not quite a whine but not quite a snarl either - bursts out of Dick’s throat. It’s accompanied by a plume of scent: bitter anger, the sour milk stink of fear, and beneath that, the sweet caramel of his heat. Slade grins and pumps his own burst of scent, watching as Dick goes still and stiff, throat working as it washes over him.
Slade takes the opportunity to reach back and free his cuffs from his belt. Snaps one end of them roughly over the wrist he still has clenched in his hand. Dick jerks.
“Slade-“
It chokes off when Slade closes his free hand around Dick’s throat. Forces his chin up and drags him higher up the bed so that he can thread the chain of the cuffs through the headboard. Dick thrashes and Slade tightens his fingers hard enough to cut off any air. Settles more heavily across Dick’s thighs. Feels the flex of his throat as he swallows thickly against the press of his palm.
It’s easier than Slade expects to close the other end of the cuffs over Dick’s free wrist. All it takes is one savage blow to his face to have Dick going limp under him and then the omega is bound tightly to the headboard, legs trapped beneath Slade’s weight. Perhaps it’s unfair to expect him to have escaped - he is in heat after all, and the heavy musk of Slade’s scent must be wreaking havoc with his head.
“Why are you doing this?” The words are accompanied by a growl that Slade can feel reverberating through his chest. Dick bucks, trying to dislodge Slade’s weight, but the mercenary just shifts more comfortably over him.“You don’t even like omegas. You’re not actually going to-“
Only he doesn’t get to say what Slade’s not going to do. Because the mercenary twists his fingers into Dick’s thick hair, using the grip to yank his head back and expose the long, pale column of his throat. The words cut off as the omega grinds his teeth against the strain.
“You don’t know shit about what I’m going to do, kid.”
It’s true though. Slade isn’t interested in omegas - that’s one rumour about him that’s actually true - and he isn’t interested in fucking Dick through his heat. But he is interested in the way the omega fights against his cuffs. The way his whole body goes tight as a bow-string as Slade leans in and presses his nose teasingly to the scent gland beneath his jaw, licking a stripe up behind his ear - even if the taste isn’t particularly arousing. He’s interested in the way the muscles of Dick’s stomach tighten as he trails his fingers over smooth skin and edges them beneath the loose waistband of his sweatpants.
When Slade finally dips his hand inside, pressing thick fingers over slick-damp boxers and the soft lump of Dick’s cock, Dick jerks as if he’s been electrocuted and lets out a high, strangled whine that makes the mercenary’s skin prickle. Slade growls low in his throat. Presses the heel of his hand more firmly over Dick. Grazes teeth over the sensitive skin of his neck.
The almost-alpha snarl Dick lets out stirs something warm in Slade’s stomach.
“Slade, don’t-“
The door opens.
Slade still has his head buried in Dick’s neck, but he hears the whoosh as it opens, then a soft thump and a sharp intake of breath. The air shifts and Slade throws himself sideways just in time to avoid the flying kick from the suddenly enraged alpha in the room.
“What the fuck is going on?”
When Slade rolls back to his feet and glances back at the bed he comes face-to-face with Jason Todd, crouched protectively over Dick, face red with anger. There’s the sudden stink of furious, protective alpha so strong that it makes Slade shudder. Rockets his heart against his chest, and not in the way it should. Because it definitely shouldn’t be shooting heat straight to his dick.
Well, Slade had made peace with his instincts a long time ago. And he knows himself well enough to know that where he hadn’t been entirely interested in Dick, he’s definitely interested in his brother.
Because Jason is a classic alpha. All strong, hard lines, no hint of the softness that even Dick can’t quite train out of his body. A warm, musky smell, spicy rather than sweet. Not to mention the plume of scent that Jason’s sending his way: angry, possessive, pack protecting pack. Designed to send most alphas scurrying away with their tails between their legs, or at least force a challenge. Most alphas would find the scent repellent - a horrible comedown after the sweet temptation of Dick’s heat smell - but Slade isn’t most alphas, and this is riling him up in an entirely different way.
“I swear to God Dick, if this is some fucked up joke the two of you are playing...”
Dick makes a strange sound, jerking his arms as if he wants to reach for Jason. “No, Jay - I don’t -“
Slade slams Jason off the bed before Dick can finish his sentence.
Jason puts up a better fight than Dick did. That isn’t usually the case, Slade suspects, because there’s something unrefined about the alpha that’s usually polished in Dick, and there aren’t many people - save himself and the Bat - who really can beat Nightwing. But the omega had been heat-addled during their bout, so Jason has the upper-hand in that particular battle. Not in this one though. Not against Slade.
The alpha isn’t a bad fighter, but he’s wearing civilian clothes rather than armour, so every blow Slade lands hits like a sledgehammer. The kid holds up surprisingly well, considering, but Slade definitely hears a rib crack when he gets a good hit in against his chest after a wild strike leaves it undefended. Gets a low grunt of pain when he catches that toned stomach with a knee. Has the kid stumbling with a well-timed blow to his ear. There are no weapons besides their fists and their training. The kid is clearly taken by surprise and Slade doesn’t see the need to draw his - not when he can win this so easily without any. Jason has some impressive tricks, but that can’t make up for Slade’s armour, his meta abilities, his years of training. And Slade can tell Jason is distracted by Dick, by his own anger and his desire to protect his brother when he’s so vulnerable. It’s cute, and it sends shivery heat down Slade’s spine every time Jason gets himself between Slade and the bed. It’s a delightfully alpha thing to do.
Eventually though, Slade gets bored of toying with him. A savage blow to his jaw and a sweep of Slade’s leg sends Jason to the floor. Then Slade is on top of him, gripping one of his wrists and forcing the arm into a painful pin behind his back. Pressing his knee into the soft calf muscle of his leg, sweeping his other knee into the inside of Jason’s thigh and forcing it wide. Gripping a handful of that curly hair with his free hand.
Jason lets out a truly impressive growl, almost as low as Slade’s, and pulls against his hold. It’s a beautiful show. The rumble of it vibrates all the way through Slade’s chest where he’s blanketed over the alpha’s back, even through his armour. Curls liquid heat in Slade’s gut. Maybe other alpha’s would be intimidated, but Slade just presses closer and lets out the moan that’s been building in his throat in response. Beneath him, Jason goes stiff. On the bed, Dick offers his own growl - impressive in its own way, for an omega.
“What the fuck are you doing Slade? Get the hell off of me and then fuck off out of here.”
Slade just hums, using his grip to tilt Jason’s head back until the expanse of his neck is bared by the strain. They’re pressed so close that Slade can hear the wet movement of his throat as he swallows.
“Whatever the fuck you want with Dick-“
“I was just going to tease Grayson a little.” Slade presses his nose against the soft join between the younger alpha’s neck and shoulder, keeping his grip firm enough that when Jason snaps his teeth, they aren’t in any danger of actually reaching him. “But then you came along and made everything so much more interesting. You must have heard the rumours after all.” He follows that up with a sharp nip at the alpha’s throat.
That gets him a flurry of desperate movement as Jason bucks against his hold, straining against the grip on his arm, kicking out with the leg that isn’t pinned down, even though it’s pressed too wide to do any damage. Slade just rides the movement. Then he jerks Jason forward with a sharp thrust of his hips, forcing his face against the carpet and holding him there as he licks a delicious stripe up the back of his neck.
Even when he presses teeth to the delicate scent gland beneath Jason’s jaw, there’s no fear in the boy’s scent, just the sharp spice of furious alpha. Up on the bed, Dick is pumping out enough fear for the both of them, tugging against his cuffs hard enough that Slade can taste blood in the air.
That lances more heat straight through Slade and he presses his teeth in deep until rich, coppery blood bursts over his tongue. The alpha underneath him lets out a high, strangled sound, caught between a snarl and a whine, and Slade can feel the hard shudder before Jason falls still, trembling. Even Bruce’s training can’t quite override the instinct to surrender to a victorious bite.
Pleased with the surrender, Slade laps soothingly at the wound, little frissures of pleasure sparking with each cut-off whimper and twitch of pain. Presses his hips hard against the swell of Jason’s ass even though he won’t be able to feel Slade’s growing hardness beneath the weight of his armour. Jason snarls obligingly anyway.
“Slade!” It’s Dick, sounding desperate, a submissive omega whine to his voice that Slade could never have imagined him making if he wasn’t hearing it now. “You’ve had your fun. You don’t need to do this.”
“I don’t need to do anything Dickie,” Slade reminds him. But he pulls back, shifting his grip from Jason’s hair to his neck, so that he can drag him with him, pressing him back against his chest, fingers tight enough against his throat to make Jason’s breath stutter, trapping his arm between his own back and Slade’s armour.
“Are you going to be good for me, kid?”
He suspects that would draw another snarl, but Jason can only choke beneath the insistent press of the mercenary’s fingers. He struggles gamely, knocking his shoulders back with enough force that it must hurt, straining against the hold and the lack of air. Slade doesn’t let up, only mouths sloppily at the skin not covered by his own hand. Finally the young alpha goes limp. Only his jaw moves, working as he struggles to draw in air.
“Good boy,” Slade murmurs as he peels his fingers away, letting Jason slump forward a little, gasping in a desperate lungful of air, no doubt thick with Slade’s own musky arousal. Another delightful shudder wracks through Jason. The hand that Slade had pressed against his throat shifts to his waist. Grips the hem of the t-shirt he’s wearing and drags it up his stomach and over his head before he can protest. When Slade shoves him forward so that he can drag his arms behind him and tie them together with his own shirt, Jason does fight, but by then it’s too late to do much more than writhe uselessly with a growl.
After that, it’s easy to clamp a hand over the back of Jason’s neck and drag him over to the bed. As they approach, Dick watches warily, eyes wide and dark in his face. When Slade heaves Jason up onto the bed, skilfully avoiding a wild kick from the alpha as he does so, Dick curls his own legs up, as if he might kick at him too. But Jason is an effective meat-shield between them and Slade forces the alpha down, trapping Dick’s legs against his chest. A bloom of heat-scent washes over them as Dick’s legs are forced up and the omega makes a tight, protesting sound that’s echoed by Jason as Slade forces his head against his brother’s neck.
“This isn’t funny Slade,” Jason snarls, voice muffled where his face is pressed against Dick. “Stop messing around and let us go.”
“You think I’m messing around?” Slade lets his voice drop dangerously, cool as ice. Maybe his banter with Dick has given the Bats the wrong impression. He’s as dangerous as any other criminal. They shouldn’t forget that. And he’s going to prove it to them.
He takes a moment to rearrange Jason. Uses one hand to grip his hip as he presses his head down with the other. Kicks his legs wide until they’re resting either side of Dick, ignoring the way Jason tries to twist out of his grip. The omega takes the opportunity to slide his own legs back down as the pressure lessens, shooting Slade a hateful glare when the mercenary presses his knees between them too and settles himself between them.
“Don’t do this Slade.” And even as he glares he tilts his chin up, although whether it’s an attempt to comfort Jason or to appease Slade, he can’t tell. “You’re a mercenary not a rapist.”
For a moment Slade considers that as he eyes the curve of Dick’s neck. It isn’t entirely true. Sure, Slade doesn’t make a habit out of this sort of thing, but Slade is a man who gets what he wants, when he wants it. And there aren’t many people who can say no to him. This hadn’t been his intention when he had slipped through Dick’s window, but now he’s here, he can’t say he minds the direction this night has taken. He isn’t the sort to deny himself his pleasure for the sake of morals.
So he leans forward, crushing Jason between them and driving the breath from both of them, before clamping his teeth against the smooth, unmarred skin of Dick’s neck in a hard bite. It’s not deep enough to be a claim, but it is deep enough to make Dick go still and silent. For Dick to let out a gasp that isn’t entirely pain. For the sudden smell of slick that slides out from underneath them.
Jason snarls furiously with the little breath he has left, but he doesn’t flash any teeth - not when his mouth is pressed against his brother rather than pointed at Slade. His nose is digging in at the curve of Dick’s jaw, right at the source of that rich heat scent, but there’s no answering swell of arousal from Jason that Slade can detect. Only the first little flash of fear. Maybe his instincts are skewed by the alpha at his back. Or maybe the pack-brother bond is strong despite their lack of blood-relation. Most likely Jason wasn’t here to fuck Dick through his heat then.
It doesn’t particularly matter to Slade. He doesn’t need Jason aroused for this.
“I think you should stop assuming you know anything about me, kid.” As he says it, he clicks open the clasp of his gauntlet with his teeth, so he can feel Jason’s bare skin as he smooths a hand down his back. The young alpha is so tense that he’s trembling. Every muscle clenching as Slade slides his palm over them. When he reaches Jason’s bound arms and slides his hand around, he can feel the muscles of that taut stomach twitch. The soft cotton of Dick’s sleep shirt brushes his knuckles as he presses between them.
There’s a sharp intake of breath. Then Dick lets out a shaky omega croon, reacting to the burst of bitter fear in Jason’s scent. His pupils are blown wide by the bite and the heavy press of Slade’s arousal.
“Shut the fuck up, Dick,” Jason snaps. Then, when Slade pops open the button of his jeans and drags them, and his boxers, down his thighs: “Don’t fucking touch me.”
Not that there’s much he can do about it. Slade presses his hips down against bare flesh as Jason bucks and gets a delightful shiver in return. He fumbles at his waist, frees his own cock with deft movements. Groans at the sensation of cool air against heated flesh. That gets another hard shudder as the room floods with his smell and the tip presses against the soft crease of Jason’s thigh.
“Don’t,” Jason tries, again. Not so angry now - small, desperate. Slade grins against the back of his neck. Shifts his hips to drag his cock across Jason’s skin. It slides easily enough, slick with pre-cum, blood-hot and throbbing. Slade hasn’t been this hard in a long time and he knows with a distant sort of irritation that part of it is due to the syrupy heat scent he can’t help but inhale this close to Dick.
It doesn’t matter - Dick’s not the one he’s fucking. But he swipes his nose across the scent gland at Dick’s collarbone anyway and feels heat surge through his veins in response. The omega is perfectly still beneath him, still obedient from the bite, but the tight line of his throat suggests that soon won’t be the case.
Not that there’s much he can do anyway.
Slade turns his attention back to Jason, pressing his nose beneath the young alpha’s jaw. He gets a burst of spice and metal for his trouble, and that has his cock twitching where it still rests against Jason’s thigh. He presses his tongue flat against the gland and savours the sharp taste of it, and the little whimper Jason can’t quite keep between his teeth. Teases the soft skin with a prick of teeth.
Jason’s eyes are shut tight, his body one hard line against Dick’s. No point putting this off any longer. Slade’s aching so badly it hurts.
He presses his teeth in until he tastes blood again and Jason softens beneath him. It’s not quite surrender but Slade doesn’t care - he’s wound too tight from Jason’s skin against him, his blood on his tongue, the heavy press of his scent in the room.
Slade pulls himself up a little, settling more easily on his knees. One hand goes to the back of Jason’s neck, holding him firmly against Dick. The other tugs his hips up to meet Slade. For a suspended moment Slade just holds him there, against the hard, hot promise of his cock, and Jason lets him, strangely slack beneath his hands.
That changes when Slade shifts, cock sliding through the cleft of the young alpha’s ass, catching against his rim with a delightful burst of sensation. Jason immediately goes tense.
“No.” It’s a strangled, airless little thing, but no less desperate for it. “No, no, Slade-“
Slade just leans down and nips at Jason’s jaw, pulling a little growl from his chest that has Jason shuddering underneath him. At this angle, Slade can’t really see his face, but he catches Dick’s eyes, wide and dark. There’s a filmy, shiny quality to them - the promise of tears.
“Sl’de,” the omega is almost slurring. The thick arousal in the air and the bite must be affecting him worse than Slade had expected. “Don’t do this. God - don’t. Please.”
Slade ignores them both. Presses his cock into the furled muscle of Jason’s entrance and pushes in without any more preamble.
At first there’s resistance. Jason is tight and dry and tense, with no omega slick to ease the way, and Slade, as vain as it sounds to say it himself, is bigger than the average alpha. The only concession Jason is getting are the wet beads of pre-cum welling at the tip of his cock. It’s not enough. But Jason can take it. He’s going to have to take it.
He presses harder and something gives, then Slade is sinking into soft, dry heat, so tight that it hurts - and Slade can’t deny he likes that too.
Jason cries out, sharp and pained. Tries to strangle the sound, clenching his teeth so hard that Slade can hear his jaw creak, but it still hisses from between his lips. Beneath him, Dick sobs, surprisingly loud, even with the sound Jason had made. The fledgling tears burst into life. Slade smells salt as they slide over Dick’s cheeks - salt and blood and fear.
He groans, so low in his throat it’s almost a growl, as he sheathes himself inside Jason. Dick echoes it with another croon, tight and shaky with anger, and he scrubs his cheek against the young alpha’s face, smearing tears across his skin, trying to press his own scent against him.
Jason’s head jerks, as if he isn’t sure whether to pull away or bury himself closer to the offered comfort. A choked whine slips out. When Slade pulls out, his breath catches in a gasp that mutates into a sound too strangled to be a proper scream as he forces his way back in again.
It’s perfect: the tight, wet heat of Jason sheathed around his cock, blood slicking the way as Slade picks up speed. The horror on Dick’s face as each thrust rocks Jason down against him. The way he alternates between snarling up at Slade and pressing desperate, kittenish licks and kisses to any part of Jason he can reach. The way Jason has gone still and silent underneath Slade, biting his lip against any more of those wounded noises so hard that Slade can smell another bloom of blood.
Maybe it’s the scent of heat in the air. Or the blood. Or the metallic smell of both their fear. But Slade feels wild, almost out of control, as if he might slip into a rut at any moment. It lends an almost frantic strength to his thrusts. Every sharp snap of his hips drives the breath from the two bodies underneath him. The whole bed shakes, shunting across the floor with the power of his movements. The primal, animalistic part of Slade is crowing at such an obvious show of strength. Purring at the thought of the two warm bodies under him, totally under his control, utterly dominated.
“Fuck,” he manages. Shifts his grip at Jason’s neck to press his thumb hard into the swollen scent gland behind the kid’s ear. Jason groans at the pressure, although it’s difficult to tell whether the sound is pleasure or pain. “God, you’re tight. So fucking good for me.”
Jason makes a small, protesting sound but it’s drowned out by the snarl that tears free from Dick’s throat. The worst of the bite must have passed now. Slade doesn’t mind, he gets a little thrill from the pure hatred burning in Dick’s blue eyes.
“Fuck you,” Dick snarls, low and throaty and wet with tears. “I’m going to fucking kill you Slade.”
Slade just smirks. “No you aren’t, sweetheart. You’re going to lie there and look pretty and know that this is all your fault. If it weren’t for your heat, you wouldn’t be in this situation and you know it.”
The glare that Dick fixes on him has electricity shooting straight to Slade’s cock. He can’t help a fluttering little moan, curling over Jason’s broad back as heat pools in his gut. The sudden rush of pleasure takes him a little by surprise. Normally it takes far longer to get to this point - the promise of his orgasm warm under his skin. He can feel his knot start to swell at the base of his cock, stretching Jason further with every thrust.
Jason must feel it too. He gasps, trembles, lets out a frightened little whimper that Slade has only heard from alphas who know they’re about to die before.
“No,” he gasps. The word is small and weak. Broken. But Jason struggles with renewed energy. Slade just holds him more firmly, pressing his thumb so hard into his gland that anyone else would likely be paralysed. “No, Slade - God - don’t - I can’t. I can’t.”
“Yes you can,” Slade snarls. “You can take it. You can take my knot.”
Normally, Slade wouldn’t knot an alpha. Even alphas who come to his bed willingly can become violent if their instincts flare and it’s never a good idea to be tied and vulnerable. And Slade doesn’t actually have much experience with alphas who don’t want to be on his knot, but tying himself to someone who actively wants to kill him can never be a good idea.
Except...the scent of Dick’s heat is affecting Slade. The overwhelming smell of slick and fear that Dick’s been pumping out from the beginning is calling to something primal that Slade usually barely registers as existing. Telling him to knot and breed and claim. Slade doesn’t think he could stop this knot if he tried.
“Knot?” Dick, small and strangled and desperate. “No, Slade. He’s an alpha. Please, he’s an alpha, you’ll kill him. You can’t…”
Slade snaps his teeth, pulling a growl that sounds demonic even to him. “I can.”
It’s getting more difficult to pull out with every thrust as Slade’s knot swells. Jason’s body is a vice around him, so tight that it does feel as if Slade will tear him in two at any second. He’s fighting in genuine panic now, thrashing against Slade’s grip, whimpering on every breath. Dick seems just as frantic, snarling like a dog, angry tears still streaming down his cheeks.
“Take it,” Slade growls. He drags his thumb down to press over the ragged bite wound that’s left of the scent gland beneath Jason’s jaw instead. Trying to get him to relax just enough to let Slade in. It doesn’t matter to Slade if he tears apart, but the kid is so tight that Slade isn’t sure if he’ll even get in. “Take it, you-“
Dick lunges, pulling hard against his cuffs with a metallic bang. Pain spears through Slade’s hand as sharp teeth close around the thumb against Jason’s neck and tear.
Slade roars. Lets go of Jason’s hip to close his free hand around Dick’s throat and slam him back into the bed. There’s blood on Dick’s teeth as he bares them in fury, choking on nothing as Slade’s grip tightens hard enough to cut off his air. Jason jerks, trying to use the distraction to pull away from Slade, but the pain isn’t enough to stop him twisting his fingers into Jason’s thick curls and yanking his head up. From this angle, Jason must be able to see Dick’s face and Dick his in turn. It gives Slade a little thrill to imagine the pain and horror the omega must see there.
The pain and the thrill are enough to send Slade over the edge. He slams into Jason one final time, grinding himself so deep that he imagines Jason can feel the bulge of his cock in his stomach. Groaning low and guttural in his throat. The urge to bite is like a siren’s call and Slade does nothing to resist it. Clamps his jaws over the already ragged skin of Jason’s neck, deep enough to know that this will scar. That his mark will be on Jason for the rest of his life.
Something tears, hot blood rushing over Slade’s cock in a sick imitation of an omega’s slick. Jason screams a piercing, jagged sound of agony that has Slade’s cock throbbing as his knot locks in place and the first gush of come spurts deep into the younger alpha.
Slade stays like that for a long time, holding Jason tight against him with one hand, keeping Dick pinned to the bed with the other. He doesn’t unlock his jaws until he’s sure that Dick is in danger of passing out if he doesn’t get air soon, savouring the thick blood on his tongue, the way Jason has gone utterly boneless despite the pain. Then he pulls back a little, freeing Jason’s flesh from the mercy of his bite, relinquishing his grip on Dick’s neck to a loose hold rather than a choke.
Dick gasps, dragging in a wet, ragged breath before letting it out in a sob. Slade lets his fingers rub idly over Dick’s glands, swollen and sensitive from his heat. The omega twitches under the attention, letting out another shaky sob before Slade slides his hand up to Dick’s curls, pushing them away from his sweat-soaked forehead.
“See,” Slade murmurs, his voice almost a purr. The throb of his orgasm sends languid waves of pleasure through his body with every spurt of his seed into Jason and it makes him a little indulgent. “You can be good. Can’t you sweetheart?”
Dick turns his face away from Slade’s hand, his expression tense. He tries to press himself against the bleeding wound of Jason’s neck, but Slade uses his grip on Dick’s hair to drag him back, holding him still whilst Slade presses their mouths together in a hard kiss. Dick could bite, but he won’t. Not whilst Slade is tied to his brother. Not knowing the damage he could do.
The kiss is salty with the tears streaming across Dick’s face. Wet and sloppy. Dick lies perfectly still underneath him, not resisting but not returning the kiss. That’s fine by Slade. He’s had his fun anyway.
Still, when they break apart, Slade uses his grip to turn Jason’s head towards him too. For a moment, he isn’t actually sure if the kid is conscious. His face is slack and so pale it’s almost white. But his eyelids flutter and when Slade licks into his mouth, he lets out a whimper that Slade might expect from a kicked dog.
“There,” Slade murmurs. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? You took me like a good little whore, didn’t you?”
Jason doesn’t reply. Most likely, he’s disappeared into that pretty little head of his, overwhelmed by the pain and the shock of everything. Slade doesn’t care about that particularly, either. Like he said, he’s had his fun.
Dick does react, letting loose a weak little growl. Slade just pets through his curls. He doesn’t stop him when Dick turns his head away from Slade’s heavy gaze again. This time, the omega noses up under his brother’s jaw without Slade’s interference.
“It’s OK Jason,” he murmurs, as if he expects Slade not to hear. He presses a soft kiss to the curve of Jason’s jaw, his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth. “It’ll be OK. He’ll be gone soon. We’ll be just fine.”
When Jason doesn’t react to Dick either, the omega lets out a distressed whine. Slade chuckles. Feels Dick stiffen at the sound.
“That’s sweet kid.” Another wave of orgasm swells and crashes and Slade gives a contented moan. That’s the last one though, Slade thinks. He can feel his knot starting to soften. Dick’s face tenses with disgust. Funny, Slade hadn’t thought it was possible for the kid to look more constipated.
“Well that was fun.”
He gives Dick’s curls one last friendly stroke. Rubs his cheek over Jason’s in a final scenting, enjoying the idea of leaving his mark on the kid, before he pulls away. His knot is still big enough to resist as Slade tugs it free and it hurts a little, but Slade is done with this now. He’s never been one to soak in the afterglow. It must hurt Jason too, because he twitches and whimpers and Dick croons in a shaky attempt to soothe him.
“I’ll take what I came for,” Slade says, casually, as he tucks himself back into his armour. There’s blood still streaked across his cock, but Slade’s never minded getting his armour a little bloody.
Dick glares as Slade saunters across the room, sliding open one of the desk drawers and retrieving the little flash drive taped up underneath it with nimble fingers. Bats - so predictable.
“I’ll be taking this. Enjoy the rest of your heat, Grayson.”
Dick’s voice is small and shaky when he asks: “Aren’t you going to untie us?”
“You’re Bats aren’t you?” Slade asks, one leg already out of the window. The fresh air outside is doing wonders to clear his head. He hadn’t realised quite how thick the scent in the room had gotten. “You’ll be fine.”
Dick’s growl follows him out.