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Jason has a fever.
That’s all it is. That’s what it has to be.
“Hey, kid,” someone calls out.
Jason keeps his head and keeps walking. He didn’t even take a wallet this time! There’s no need for anyone to talk to him.
However, it happens again. Jason’s just trying to cross the inner city, get to the shelter, or that one soup kitchen that also hands out medication. Because he has a fever. Eventually, he settles on a route that has him meeting the least amount of people. It seems like a good idea until he actually runs into another lone figure.
The man stops and scents the air.
Fuck. Jason, usually not intimidated by adults—what more can they do to him?—feels his heart sink.
The stranger turns around. His eyes find Jason, and he grins. “Well, well, what do we have here?”
Jason does the only sensible thing: He runs.
Even as he does, though, he’s painfully aware of the throbbing on this neck, the growing slickness between his legs, the way it’s becoming harder and harder to focus. This isn’t good.
He hops over the narrowest part of the Martha Wayne canal. Every time he does that, he can hear Willis grumble about city planning and the way those damn things just seem to crop up everywhere overnight. Jason never understood that. They’re an integral part of the Gotham he grew up in; he can’t imagine Gotham without the water. That’s like imagining it without Batman and Robin.
Right now, they’re also one more barrier between him and whoever might be following him. Sure, he might’ve lost the one guy; the next is sure to stumble upon him. Even now, as Jason scents the air, he can smell aroused-interest-hunt: burnt copper and the sharp tang of electricity.
Think, he tells himself. There’s one place no one will follow him to. One place where he’ll be safe, if not comfortable. Where he’ll be alone.
Something in him cries out at that thought. Omegas shouldn’t be alone at their presentation heat. They should be surrounded by a pack and helped through it in any way they need, sexual or not. For an omega to choose to go through it alone…
But what choice does he have?
Jason is sweating; he’s wet, he’s trembling, he’s cramping up—soon, he will just lay down on the ground and start begging the next-best alpha to fuck him. He’s out of options. He needs somewhere to hide, and quick.
Forcing his brain to focus for just a little bit longer, he takes stock of his position. The North of Gotham. Okay. What is around here?
The Cave.
No one goes there, ever. It’s right next to the old abandoned manor—the one with the murdered family—and the heir has strictly forbidden anyone access. Add to that the rumors of drownings and ghosts, and, well.
Jason, however, has been there before. His feet know the way, and he turns toward it almost automatically, lured by the idea of solid walls around him. The cold of the Cave made some of the hottest summer nights bearable, and right now, with fever cursing through him, that sounds like the best thing he heard all day.
As he expected, the manor grounds are empty as he passes through them.
To enter the Cave, you have to jump into the canal at its shallowest part and then wade through to the grates. He’s just about small enough to fit through; another advantage of the location. No adult alpha will find him here.
Jason stumbles inside and collapses against the wall on the far side. Now that he’s alone—that he’s safe—the heat crashes over him and pulls him under.
He blinks, and his pants are around his ankles. Another blink and he’s shoving fingers inside, desperate to fill himself, but it’s like they’re not even there. Jason has never done this before—hard to find the privacy when you’re a street kid—but he’s sure it’s not supposed to be like this. There’s a whine building in his throat, a cry of loneliness. A mating call with no one to answer.
Jason blinks, and when he opens his eyes, a man stands in the mouth of the Cave. He looks to be about nineteen, clean-cut, dark hair, and bright eyes—and he shouldn’t be here. No one should be. How did he…
“Hello,” the man says, voice friendly. “You look like you could use help.”
“Go away,” Jason hisses. His instincts are screaming at him: to protect this makeshift nest, to call the stranger in so that he might help, to—to run.
He can’t. The stranger is blocking the exit, and anyway, Jason is in no condition to run.
The man grimaces. “I don’t think that’s an option, sorry. You’re presenting, aren’t you?”
That’s when Jason realizes what about the situation is so off: He can’t smell him. It’s so wrong. Everyone has a smell: alpha, beta, omega. No neutralizer can dampen a smell enough that an omega in heat can’t perceive it.
This man? He smells like nothing but the Cave around them: fresh and salty.
“What are you.” If Jason’s voice is flat, that’s because that’s what he feels. Just his luck to stumble upon a monster the day he also gets his presentation heat. Typical.
“That’s a bit of a long story. More importantly,” the man flashes a grin, “my name is Dick.”
“Cool,” Jason manages. “Fuck off.”
“Will you let me help you?” the man—Dick—asks, ignoring that request.
“No.” Jason hasn’t needed his parent’s help, he hasn’t needed the orphanage’s help, and he certainly doesn’t need the help of some stranger.
Then he doubles over in pain, his stomach cramping at the idea of rejection.
“Be reasonable.” Dick’s voice is sympathetic. “You know what happens when an omega goes through a presentation heat alone. I can’t watch you do that when I could help. It’s gotta hurt already, doesn’t it?”
He’s right. It hurts. Jason thought he knew what pain is—he didn’t. This aches so deep in his bones like no direct hit ever did. He’s burning up but so fucking cold, so alone, so… so empty.
“Please,” he says and hates himself for it.
“Of course,” Dick soothes. “It will be fine.”
Jason wants to believe him. He doesn’t.
“This might be a bit unusual.” Dick looks focused all of a sudden. His eyes are an eery, unearthly blue. “Don’t be afraid.”
The shadows behind him are growing.
Jason thinks it’s just his brain being stupid and in heat at first. It’s not. The shadows behind Dick are contracting, and then they’re reaching outward toward Jason, a mass of wiggly lines emanating from Dick’s back.
That—that thing—shadow—tentacle—it goes and reaches toward Jason, who lifts a hand to slap it away, scrambling back against the wall. Before he can, two of the tentacles pin his wrist to the ground, a third one winding around his ankles and effectively preventing him from moving.
“It’s okay. They’re not gonna hurt you.” Dick says it like he’s talking about the weather. “We’re just trying to help you.”
Jason wants to say that usually helping someone doesn’t mean restraining them, that he doesn’t want or need help—but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out but the pitiful whine of an omega in need.
More shadows grow around them. Another winds around him, then another, and they contract in some sick mimicry of a hug.
Jason arches into the touch. For a moment, his head even feels clearer; the sensation of skin on skin soothing his heat, giving him enough clarity to catalog the sensations. The—the tentacles are smooth, covered in tiny scales that feel cold to the touch. With his fever, they feel amazing, and Jason instinctively presses closer when one of them winds around his torso and caresses his chest through his shirt.
Hist chest. Something is happening with his chest. There’s a pressure there that wasn’t before.
“Oh, no, are you already producing milk?” Dick asks solicitously.
Jason frowns. Milk…
“That has to hurt. Let me help… we just need to get this thing off.”
Before Jason can protest, another tentacle moves up, then another smaller one; together, they rip Jason’s shirt to shreds. “Hey,” he says, “I’m gonna… need…”
Dick chuckles. The sound seems to connect with the tentacles, somehow; Jason can feel them vibrate where they are groping at his chest. “It’s fine.”
How can he presume to know that? If only Jason wasn’t so distracted with the feeling of those tentacles massaging his aching pecs, the way they squeeze so good, all that heady skin-on-skin contact…
At the first brush against his nipples, Jason arches up and gasps.
“That feels good?” Dick sounds genuinely curious.
“I—ah!” Jason can’t help himself; he has to press his upper body up and into the touch. Two smaller tentacles come up and wind around his nipples, pulling and squeezing. Jason is reminded of a cow’s teats being milk, and the thought shouldn’t make him wetter, but it does.
The larger tentacles wrap around his pecs, contracting—massaging—and the tentacles are pulling on his nipples, and Jason is spilling his milk, drop by drop, and he—he can’t—
Pleasure wracks through him. He’s coming, just from this, just from having his—his tits played with.
It feels good for one terrible, awe-inspiring second, and then he’s empty. Every spasm of his cunt around nothing reminds that he’s alone, that’s he’s a bad omega, useless, no pack, no-one to breed him—
“Ssssh,” Dick murmurs. Jason’s legs are freed, and he instinctively moves to spread them, gasping in relief when the tentacle that had kept him still slides up and right into his aching cunt. It doesn’t do anything else; it just slides in and fills him and fills him, and Jason wants to cry in relief at how much he loves it.
Is this what his life is going to be? A hole, aching to be filled?
“I’m sorry. That was mean of me, making you come without anything in you.” Through hazy eyes, Jason watches Dick give a sheepish grin. Is it just him, or does the older man look… younger than before? Softer, somehow? “I didn’t think you were so sensitive.”
Jason blushes at the word; he just knows it.
“It’s a good thing!” Dick hastens to add. “A beautiful young omega, so responsive for your alpha.”
“Not… an alpha…” Jason manages to say. He knows that much. Alphas smell. Stink. Dick doesn’t.
“Well, technically, I was an alpha,” Dick says, his tone too light. “Before I drowned.”
“Drowned…?” That’s. That’s not right. Dick barely looks sixteen—he shouldn’t have drowned; he’s alive in front of Jason… isn’t he?
“Something like that. Bruce rescued me.” Dick waves a hand dismissively. “It was a long time ago.”
The conversation is becoming too difficult for Jason to follow. The haze is starting to come back. He’s filled, and yet—something is missing. It’s not enough. It’s not even bearable.
Instinctively, he clenches around the tentacle inside him.
Dick chuckles, eyes dark. “It’s not enough, hm?”
Jason shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s your presentation heat, and you don’t have a pack,” Dick explains. “You’re supposed to be stuffed full right now—to be bred—, and your body knows it. Luckily…” He wiggles one of his tentacles in front of Jason’s face. “I can help with that.”
The tentacle starts moving. It feels weird, nothing like he imagined a cock would feel like. It’s softer, and it can move in different ways, a little like long, thick tongue inside him, undulating as much as fucking him. It’s not enough, and still, every thrust has Jason moan and try to spread his legs more, encourage it to go deeper.
A second tentacle slides in, and Jason cries out. He wants it, and it hurts, it hurts so much, he can’t—
Dick’s tentacle slides into his mouth. The way Jason latches on and starts suckling is pure instinct. His eyes close—yes. He needed this. He needs this. Some kind of fluid is oozing from the tip, salty on his tongue, and Jason laps it up eagerly, trying to suck more out of it. Having Dick drip something down his throat soothes him in a way he doesn’t want to examine any more closely.
“So good for me,” Dick says, and Jason moans around the tentacle in his throat. “Such a good omega, taking care of your alpha. You want my cum, hmm?”
Something in Jason is terrified at the idea. He’s being fucked by a monster during his first heat—the most fertile one. He shouldn’t want Dick’s cum, he shouldn’t want to be knocked up, to be bred, to take every Dick has to give and more—
But oh, how he does.
“You’ve earned it,” Dick says, and Jason whines, a high omega sound. “You’ve done so well, hiding away from everyone else, coming to me, accepting my help—you’re such a strong, good omega. You will have the best pups.”
Please, Jason thinks. Please.
“You beg so pretty,” Dick says. “I’ll give you what I need.”
Something moves, and then the tentacles are shifting inside Jason, curling up at the base, winding around each other and yes, yes, this is what he’s been waiting for, for a knot to form, to show him that his alpha wants him, that he’s useful, that’s he’s a good omega—
The makeshift knots are still growing, and then Dick starts pumping more of that fluid into him, coming inside him, and Jason blacks out.
Awareness comes back slowly. Jason feels out of his body, and it takes him a long time to open his eyes and begin taking stock of what is happening.
He’s so full. His head is immobilized by the knot in his mouth—pulling at his cheeks, stretching the skin wide—so he can’t turn it enough to see, but he knows his stomach must be rounded out with the sheer amount of tentacles and cum inside him. He—
He must almost be looking pregnant already.
Jason wines at the thought, still mindless from orgasm and high on the heat endorphins. He might be carrying pups already. His alpha gave him pups.
However, he doesn’t have a nest. That thought sends a chill down his spine. He didn’t prepare enough for his heat, didn’t build anything to keep his pups safe, to mark his territory, to invite his alpha—what if Dick leaves?
“Hey, no, whatever you are thinking, it’s okay.” Dick’s voice breaks through the building panic inside Jason. Okay. He latches onto that word. He’ll be okay. Dick is here. (He doesn’t even know this man, his brain screams at him. Jason doesn’t listen. He’s so tired of listening to the fear.)
“You could come with me, you know. I’ll give you a nest,” Dick says, tone honey-soft. “All the materials you want, and it will be well-hidden, somewhere in this cave-system where no one will find you.”
A home.
Jason doesn’t know if he spoke out loud—he can’t have, right? His mouth is full?—but Dick nods eagerly, anyway. “Yes, Jason—a home. I’ll keep you safe.”
His eyes wander over Jason’s body, to where his knots are keeping Jason’s mouth plugged and his cunt spread wide open, and he adds: “I’ll keep you full.”
It’s not a good idea. Anything like this will prolong his heat—but it sounds so good. Like all Jason has ever wanted.
He closes his eyes and blinks at Dick, slow, trusting. Yes.
Dick beams. “Good boy.”
He walks forward and bends down to where Jason is pinned to the floor and the wall. With an ease that shouldn’t be present in someone who looks to be about thirteen—close to Jason’s age but taller, better developed in a way that speaks of proper nutrition and training—Dick scoops Jason up and into his arms.
Distantly, Jason realizes: This is the first time Dick touches him with his human hands. (Are they human?) Somehow, the tentacles stay inside him, and Jason is so glad for whatever this magic is because he knows he would cry if they slipped out now. Nothing about this is right, and yet, everything is.
“Shh,” Dick hums. “I got you.”
And then he pulls Jason under the water.