Chapter Text
The view from the 50th floor of Munster and Smith was impressive even for the scandalously rich. Unfortunately, as a vigilante Dick had a favorite perch not too far from this building, so he was not impressed; it looked better at night, red streaks from the scattered lights smeared across the sky.
The office of the most prestigious firm in Gotham took up several floors here, right in the middle of downtown. It wasn’t an area that got too bad at night, but there was an amazing 24-hour diner run by a woman named Marie. She catered to the night-shift cleaners who kept the buildings running, and the best birria came straight from her kitchen to Dick’s ravenous mouth at least a few times a month mid-patrol, when he visited Gotham. He’d signed a poster for her as Nightwing, even.
He looked longingly out the window and down the street, his hunger gnawing in his gut. But he knew, even if he got his favorite food, it wouldn’t make a dent in the cause of this particular starvation.
Inside the meeting room, Drake family lawyers were in a deep back and forth with Wayne lawyers, like two packs of hyenas trying to take bites out of the other.
Across the table Bruce was engaged in his, “I’m an idiot who’s waiting to be told what to do” routine, sighing and tapping one of his many work phones against the table obnoxiously.
The contract negotiations were supposed to be done. Bored and getting hornier by the second, Dick looked around the table, finding the one person he had any interest in.
Tim was in a simple black trench coat, tied with a belt in the front. White lace gloves on his hands and white lace stockings on his feet gave him the look of innocence bundled up. In the high sun of the day, Dick licked his lips and winked at Tim, who held his gaze and offered Dick a small, brave smile, even as worry creased his eyes.
A simple platinum choker and necklace set gleamed where it lay against Tim’s ivory skin. A red jewel that Dick assumed was a ruby dangled in the choker, moving slightly with Tim’s small adjustments in his chair.
With a cut-off sigh, Tim tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, exposing a dangling matching ruby earring. The white-lace gloves looked obscene in motion; or maybe that was the need warping Dick’s insides into knots.
Dick wanted that hot hand around his cock, lace and all.
The lawyers were really going at it now; one had a thick finger out and was pointing at some papers that Dick guessed were important for some reason.
“…the second non-omega child of Wayne blood shall be heres substitutus for the Drake estate and raised by them, or we walk.”
Oh, no. Dick yawned. They’d reached the ultimatums, now. That meant it’d be over soon, one way or the other. Knowing Bruce, this was all going to plan, and the slightly longer negotiations were because he wanted to ensure the paparazzi got pictures of them in the setting sun walking out the door. He’d brought in even more lawyers a few days ago; Dick had covered Gotham patrol with Damian because Bruce had pulled an all-nighter for non-Batman purposes.
Kicking out to his side, Dick tried to get his brother’s attention.
Jason, dressed in a suit for once in his life, was looking like he might tear it – and every person’s head – off. He glowered at Dick, his eyes as sharply blue as gas pilot lights. So far no green tint had poisoned them, but Jason sure seemed unusually worked up, his face drawn into a semi-snarl and brow furrowed. So theatrical that you’d think he was the performer and not Dick.
A nod to the door and Dick escaped, tugging a recalcitrant Jason behind him.
“God,” Dick said in the expansive hallway. Brocade couches lined the marble floor. Some exotic plants, Dick didn’t know what, had been carefully pruned to curve enticingly around the elevator at the end of the hall. It all blurred away, expected and unremarkable. With a side eye towards Jason, Dick asked, “If you’re going to attack the lawyers, can you do it after we’ve all signed?”
“Pay attention, Dick-head,” Jason said, before he paced a tight loop in front of the doors to the meeting room. “They’re tryin’ to take one of his kids from him.”
Dick frowned. “Heres substitutus?”
“Whatever the fuck it’s called,” Jason spat, then spun, starting another line of pacing. Dick had to soothe him or they’d be cleaning blood off the walls.
“Deep breaths,” Dick said, trying for steady and not dismissive. “I’m sure Bruce has it under control.”
“Under control? Tim looks like he’s going to barf all over the table. Sure would be great if Bruce wasn’t stuck pretending he had a room temp IQ right now. And if you weren’t actually a fuckin’ knot-head.”
At that Dick grabbed Jason’s elbow, harder than a spoiled rich boy should be able to. “Watch your words,” Dick hissed into Jason’s ear. Any listening devices would catch the exchange, but they’d assume Dick had taken offense, not that Dick was warning Jason not to stumble so close to the truth in semi-public. Bruce being “normal” was the Jenga piece their whole tower rested on.
Jason shrugged off the hold with a roll of his massive shoulders.
Deescalation, thought Dick hopelessly. An idea Jason had never met and would shoot if he did.
“Bruce will never let them take a child one of us has fathered, I know it,” Dick assured Jason. “They’ll work out a way for them to inherit without leaving us – ” Dick was interrupted by a lawyer sticking her head out the door and letting them know they were needed.
Dick offered her an apologetic smile as he trailed after his brother, who didn’t acknowledge her or anyone else.
“In summary,” one of the lawyer was saying – a beta woman, and Dick imagined a hyena pack once more – “The child shall be the second natural-born beta or alpha of Wayne blood born to Timothy Drake. If upon Drake’s thirty-fifth birthday no such child exists, the first natural-born progeny of Timothy Drake will inherit the Drake name regardless of designation. The child in question will be raised by the Wayne family, but is to be allowed visits to number no fewer than three a year to a place of the Drake estate’s choosing within contractual limits. Upon the age of 16, the child will be allowed two weekends a month at a Drake holding or under their direct supervision.”
Across the table, Tim’s face started to recover its color, and as if he’d survived a fright his cheeks flushed.
“Tim Drake shall as a part of these proceedings receive 20 percent of the value of the dowry. Drake is to be permitted access to these funds with no restriction or a contract breach can be initiated in family court.”
There were a few questions left, but eventually a sheath of papers made its way around the table, a pen following.
Bruce signed first, then Jason, then Dick. It was taken from them by hand over to Tim, who was holding his own pen. He signed, the second-to-last signature required.
There was a bifurcation in the room, then. Janet Drake – the only other Drake in attendance – took Tim’s hand in her own and rubbed it awkwardly. Dick, Jason, and Bruce all rose, readying themselves for the final step. Meanwhile the lawyers on both sides sat back in their seats, one reaching into her bag to retrieve what looked like a cigar case. It was a jovial atmosphere fueled by relief at a job well-done and elation at heavier pocketbooks for all. The last step was required but hardly more than a formality.
Dick, normally magnanimous and patient, wanted to pick Tim up and escape. He did the next best thing. Without prompting, he approached the omega, helping him up and out wordlessly.
At the door waited their female alpha monitor, her role indicated with a simple sash over her black suit. They had already met and reviewed the ground rules, so she had but to escort them to the Unison room.
Upon arrival it was an inversion of the corporate opulence previously surrounding them, cool marble grays replaced with warm umber, a thick pile carpet, and various sumptuous divans and sofas scattered across the cozy room. Windows let in natural light at the west end, the sun thinking about setting, and a table in the middle held a stash of velvet boxes of varying sizes. None of it would have been out of place in a penthouse suite.
It was said that a fertile omega of good breeding and standing was priceless. The Unison room allowed the alpha receiving such a precious gift one last chance to prove their worthiness, to show their wealth and ability to the omega’s family. Said omega’s family would then judge what had been provided their child, and only upon approval of the gifts and treatment of their omega would the contract be granted.
It was all traditionally overseen by a female alpha to ensure no liberties were taken. Any over-eager male alphas would find themselves disappointingly soft, were they to try, forced to quiescence via the monitor’s pheromones. Today the monitor took the form of a small, well-dressed woman tucked into the corner of the room, her presence surprisingly muted for an alpha female. Dick had met only a dozen or so during his life, and they’d all been forces of nature, sticking out like sore thumbs for one reason or another. If Dick had passed this one in the street, he’d have never known – perhaps he had met more of them than he’d thought? A rather unsettling idea, given their power.
“Begin your preparations,” the monitor said, before folding her hands in front of her in a perfect dovetail and sitting in a leather chair in the corner.
Dick still had Tim’s arm folded in his own, so he urged him to a divan close to the table littered with boxes. Months ago Bruce had acquired a necklace to pair with the pièce de résistance of their parure for Tim, and though Alfred had almost lost his mind with the contemptibly French people of Chaumet, it had been paid for and delivered to Wayne Manor by armoured vehicle, then all the disparate pieces brought here.
Nightwing had actually been activated that night to protect the shipment – he’d stopped two separate heist attempts and forgiven Bruce for assigning him the job when it proved an actual problem. Thankfully, Catwoman was still traveling Europe, so it hadn’t been too big of a challenge to keep the jewelry safe. Dick couldn’t imagine how embarrassing it would have been to lose Bruce’s gifts for Tim to Catwoman – he’d have had to beg, borrow, or steal them back.
How much Bruce had ultimately paid for the complementary pieces, Dick didn’t know or care. A line of glimmering stones each no bigger than a person’s pupil ran across the velvet boxes, clearly meant to indicate their contents in some unfathomably posh way.
An omega parure required a necklace, a tiara, a bracelet, and a ring. Each of the boxes laid on the table before them held one of those – but there were more than the four standard boxes.
“What do you offer?” Tim asked in line with the ritual. He played nervously with the belt around his trench.
Bruce stepped forward. “I would give you the finest my house has to offer, should you accept it.”
Tim nodded, then seemed to remember he had to verbalize the acceptance. “Uh, yes.”
A small movement of hands at Tim’s front and Bruce was undoing the trench’s belt, exposing the omega underneath. An ivory silk sheath dress, extremely simple but of high enough quality it nearly glowed in the low light, came into view. Piece by piece Bruce removed Tim’s jewelry, the necklace, the earrings, the bracelet, the ring, each time promising to replace them with something better.
Meanwhile Dick focused on omega’s body, hard nipples that showed through the silk dress, a siren song for Dick’s lonely mouth. Below, the omega’s cocklet stuck out just enough to create a sweet swell between his thighs.
Bruce put a thumb to where one of Tim’s hard nipples announced itself, wondering, “Are you cold?”
“No, Mr. Wayne,” Tim said, a shiver going through him at the touch.
“Good, that’s good.” Bruce rubbed at the nipple, contemplatively. “Let’s get you undressed.”
The air was soon filled with that same silk, Bruce slowly peeling it up and off Tim’s body until all that was left was a naked, nervous omega. On his bottom half he had on nothing but thigh-high white lace tights that matched his cute lace gloves, no underwear to sully the view.
Dick groaned at the sight, not knowing whether he wanted to debauch the omega with his accouterments on or off.
A sharp elbow roused him from his salacious musings. Next to him, Jason was glowering, not so unusual for him. “Focus up, do-do bird,” he said into Dick’s ear.
Dick elbowed Jason back without looking. “Believe me, nothing could make me turn away.”
Dick had fucked dozens of omegas: servants, a few society ones with inattentive alphas (anal only, of course…it barely counted), employees of places he frequented. There was something about this one, though – perhaps his attitude in the dressing room when Dick had invaded, perhaps his strange request to help the Mission. Or maybe it was simply the knowledge that this omega would belong Dick, be his, even one day carry Dick’s children if he wanted.
The head alpha and Tim had moved on to the next part of the exchange while Dick and Jason tried not to fall into a slapfight.
Bruce had at last opened one of the boxes on the table, purple velvet coating the inside, a tiara’s sparkle sending specks of light out into the room. Dick didn’t know much about jewelry, but he recognized pearls and what had to be diamonds set in brilliant white platinum.
“This is the Montellano Rose. It was given to the Wayne family for outstanding services rendered to the Duchy of Montellano by my father. One of the pearls was lost during the second World War, and never restored in the hopes it would be found. It was not, so I have replaced it with one of my mother’s pearls. It would please me for you to wear it.”
“Oh,” Tim said, then he smiled beatifically. “I’m honored to received a token that has such personal significance to you.”
Dick bit back a yawn. A glance to his side showed Jason looming, glaring at the ground instead of watching the show. Dick elbowed him. “Focus up,” he said, snide.
Jason bitch-faced and was opening his mouth to respond when Bruce interrupted.
“Boys,” he called mildly. “It’s your turn to give your gifts.”
They each walked to the middle of the small room, approaching the table. The parure had been taken care of by assistants, so Dick had previously only seen pictures – there was one non-traditional piece that he was particularly interested in putting on Tim. He’d called dibs when Bruce had inquired about what each of his boys wanted to decorate the omega with.
You snooze, you lose, thought Dick as Jason awkwardly put in two earrings, shiny dangly things that Dick wished could go on the omega’s nipples instead. A necklace followed, Jason picking it up by one of the jewels before finally identifying the clasp. Standing behind Tim, Jason’s size was apparent in a way that made Dick hot from his feet up, like being barefoot on sun-heated concrete in summer. When they bent Tim over, would the omega even be visible? In a mating press, he’d almost disappear under Bruce or Jason.
Dick pulled at his shirt collar. He didn’t feel a single pulse of blood to his dick – the female alpha in the corner was certainly doing her job – but it didn’t stop his eagerness when his turn came.
In the box Bruce indicated laid a platinum cock cage, a tiny thing made specifically for omegas with cocklets but no balls. Tim lifted a hand to his lips when he saw it.
Bruce noticed and stepped in, ushering an unsteady Tim to sit on the divan.
“Do you know what Dick’s gift is?”
“Yes a...cock cage.”
Bruce hummed approvingly. “Have you worn one before?”
“No, Mr. Wayne. My parents trusted me to stay chaste.”
“And the doctor’s findings proved your parents were right to trust you, Tim. But as a mated omega, you’ll have many opportunities for pleasure. If you start with your cocklet uncaged, it can be too easy to chase that instead of focusing on the deeper pleasure your womb can provide us.” Bruce splayed a massive hand over Tim’s stomach, down low where his iliac crest started. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, alpha,” Tim looked up at Bruce, then quickly at Dick who had the cock cage in hand.
For the past few months Dick had been reading about the use of cock cages for the health and well-being of omegas, especially omegas with clits like Tim. Unlike other omegas with only cocklets, Tim could have a fully clit-centered orgasm. Bruce hadn’t lied – without the cock cage he’d be highly unlikely to ever learn to do it, but there was another reason to cage them. The loss of pleasure from their cocklets drove them to seek their pleasure elsewhere, making them trainable, their psyches eased into accepting an alpha’s cock and knot as their main source of ecstasy. All of that said nothing about the obvious reminder of who owned their cocklet orgasms, neatly locked away, kept safe by their alpha.
With an obnoxious wink to Tim, Dick got on a knee before him, shiny cock cage in one hand a small packet of lube in the other.
“Oh dear, honey,” Dick said in false surprise. “Your cocklet needs to be soft to be caged safely.”
Tim flushed and stammered – he was as hard as an omega could get, the female alpha pheromones doing nothing to his omega anatomy.
“Sorry, alphas. I’m trying.” Tim looked down at his sex as if he could force it soft with wishful thinking.
“That’s quite all right, Tim. We’re flattered by your interest. Would you like some help?” Bruce asked from the side.
Tim looked up at Bruce for direction and nodded.
“Normally I would have Dick suck you to completion – ”
What? Dick perked up. That would be an unexpected treat.
“ – but that’s not allowed until your family signs the contract,” Bruce finished.
Aw, thought Dick. Jason sneered down at him, arms crossed and overseeing the proceedings. He’d migrated to loom behind Tim on the divan, not yet touching but watching intently. If the omega started crying, Jason would probably start punching people, so Dick knew he couldn’t tease too much.
“Uh, can I…?” Tim made a cute motion where he mimed rubbing a thumb over something he was holding. It took a moment for Dick to realize the omega was miming masturbation; the cocklet he had was too small for actual jerks of a wrist. Of course he had to hold the tiny thing and rub. Dick bit his lip. He’d never seen an omega masturbate their cocklet without also being penetrated. Dick wasn’t a porn guy (he had access to the real thing with almost no limits) but even given his prodigious experience he didn’t remember asking or seeing an omega do such a thing. It felt counter-cultural, dirty.
He wanted to see it.
“I don’t know if that’s in the spirit of the rules either, sweetheart.”
“C’mon, Bruce, look at him,” Dick argued. “One orgasm. He’s been so good for us already.”
Bruce peeked at the corner of the room, where the monitor had taken a pair of knitting needles out of a bag and was currently humming quietly to herself, making something.
Putting a hand on Tim’s bare shoulder, Bruce wryly said, “As you can see, Dick can be a rather bad influence.”
“I have the best ideas,” Dick defended, smirking.
“I,” Tim started, then cleared his throat. “I think it’s a good idea, Mr. Wayne.”
For a long moment Bruce stared down at the omega, then he very quietly chuckled. “Very well. Why don’t you show how pretty you can be for us?”
“Leave the gloves on,” Dick put in, hunger writ in his voice.
The next few minutes Dick had a front row seat to the most innocently sensual show he’d ever seen. Watching the young omega gently rub at his cocklet – wet with his own slick, that he’d gathered from his own lower lips – had Dick reflexively gripping at his cock, shocked anew each time that he was still flaccid. The little personal packet of lube that Tim had denied sat, calling Dick’s name from the floor. But Dick knew no matter how much he tried, he wasn’t going to be getting hard in this room. So he simply watched, intent, like Bruce and Jason did.
“Alphas,” groaned Tim, then he looked around wildly, unoccupied hand grabbing at Bruce’s forearm, tugging at his suit. From behind Tim, Jason glared at Tim’s hand like he was jealous of it.
“So pretty for us,” Dick whispered. “Can you rub the head more, baby?”
Nodding, Tim focused there, his body starting to shake. He almost kicked out at Dick, a tremor of pleasure running through him before Dick grabbed his lace-clad foot and held it steady, kissing Tim’s calf before he smiled up at the omega.
“Dick,” Bruce warned.
Tim threw his head back, tiara nudging at Jason’s stomach, almost catching on his suit buttons. Jason’s hand came up around Tim’s neck, holding the omega against him firmly, forcing his neck back further until Tim was arcing in the air, accidentally offering his little tits to Dick.
Jason was a genius.
His alphas’ hands all over him sent Tim over the edge, and he stuttered through an orgasm, violent, seeming to lose control of his limbs as the thrashed against Jason’s hold and tried vainly to twist his ankle out of Dick’s grip.
For all the firey outpouring of emotion, the actual result of Tim’s orgasm was this: a dribble from his cocklet in the form of translucent, impotent fluid, less viscous than slick but just as delicious. After gathering the precious offering from Tim, who was being kissed by Jason, Dick licked his own palm. It bloomed like a complex tea in his mouth, much unlike semen (Dick wasn’t against sucking off a hot beta or alpha guy). He offered some to Bruce after rudely taking first taste, and the head alpha ran a finger through the mess, gathering it up.
Bruce’s eyes were unreadable as he thoroughly cleaned Tim’s cocklet come off his digit. “Even better from the source, I’m sure,” he said, staring at the omega, intent like a jaguar on prey.
Jason scoffed and turned his nose up at Dick’s palm, choosing instead to reclaim Tim’s lips, guiding the omega’s head back and biting at his mouth tenderly.
“Your loss,” shrugged Dick, before licking the rest of his palm spit-shine clean. Alfred didn’t make them clear their plates, but this dish Dick planned to devour.
Finally released from Jason’s hold, Tim watched Dick’s final lick, flush high on his cheeks, breasts rising with his short breaths.
“Let’s get your cage on, baby,” Dick said, picking the platinum contraption back up off the divan.
Light touches were all Dick allowed himself as he curled the cocklet, smushing it as gently as possible into the restriction. Tim winced and sighed, openly staring.
“We got measurements from Dr. Shira, so it should fit perfectly. If it ever truly hurts or anything starts to go numb, you’re to tell one of us immediately,” Bruce advised.
“Yes, Mr. Wayne,” Tim replied dutifully.
“Good omega.” Tim’s hair ruffled when Bruce ran his hand through it like a favored pet. “Please stand and let me take a final look at you.”
Doing as ordered, Tim swayed once he was fully up. Bruce took the boy into his arms, rubbing over his slender shoulders and testing the flesh there. Once he was done up top, he ran assessing hands lower, a finger through the slick between Tim’s lower lips, a kneading, masterful wringing of the omega’s thighs. He turned Tim around, repeating his molestation, spreading the omega’s ass to expose his tiny back hole. Bruce put a thumb there, barely pushing into the wrinkled flesh.
“Even prettier than I remember,” Bruce said, then squeezed a final time. “You’re perfect, Tim.”
Judging from Tim’s face, the orgasm and molestation had struck him dumb, and he barely responded.
While Bruce went to a cedar wardrobe along a wall and retrieved their final gift, Dick reached for the lone unopened box. He knew what it had to be by order of elimination, but his delight was real when he cracked it open. Beautiful and solid, a pure platinum ellipsoid. When Dick picked it up, it cooled his hand immediately, and the weight of it was sublime.
He showed it to Tim, urging the omega to take it. Tim curled both hands around it, manicured nails tinkling against its surface.
“Do you know what this is?” Dick wondered.
“No,” Tim said slowly, turning it this way and that, a bit of curiosity filling his yet hazy gaze.
“It’s a pussy weight,” Dick whispered into Tim’s ear before moving that stubborn lock of black hair back behind the omega’s ear. “It’s to keep you nice and tight for us. Can’t let those muscles go untrained.”
Tim froze and stopped moving the toy around immediately, as if he might accidentally activate it and send it straight into his untried cunt.
“I’m going to…put this down there?” Tim clarified, looking up into Dick’s eyes.
“Yes, baby. When one of us takes your cute ass, you’ll keep it in your pussy and it will knock against your front wall until you’re crazy with it, make you so tight for your alphas’ cocks. You want to be good for us, right?”
Tim nodded, a tremor going through him. “Yes. I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will,” Dick praised, before taking the toy back and letting Bruce take the lead again. Maybe it was mean to tease the omega with what’d they’d do to him, but it was all Dick could do to hold himself back otherwise.
The silk dress the Wayne family had bought was presented to Tim, and he took a few seconds to slink into it. Following tradition, like the original dress it was truly just a piece of fabric with a few holes for his arms and head. Which was not to say it was not lavish, in a dark aquamarine color that had been picked at random by Dick when he was presented with swatches a month ago. Dressed now in Dick’s choice, however capriciously made, Tim was a vision. The tiara, necklace, earrings and rings sparkled, offset perfectly by the basic cut of his dress. Between his legs his cocklet had gone from a noticeable hump to a surprise that only showed when Tim moved this way or that. The hard nipples remained unadorned and lewdly announced on Tim’s chest, but Dick had let himself be convinced to wait on piercing them. It was safer to pierce after inducing lactation so that the opened ducts could be seen easily on ultrasound. Keeping Tim as beautiful and perfect as possible would be worth resisting immediate gratification.
After an omega had received their gifts, they were to go back to their parents or guardians for a final consultation. In theory, it was a time for the omega to speak freely about their concerns and for the guardians to evaluate the gifts and behavior of the potential alpha mate. In practice, the courtings had taken the place of such interactions. One hundred years ago a society omega might be wed and bred within a month; nowadays even Dick new that would be gauche. The six months they’d taken was perfectly normal in the modern world.
The monitor in the corner escorted Tim out of the room and back to his mother’s tender mercies. Dick wondered if Bruce had bugged the meeting room but was smart enough not to ask in a semi-public place.
“You need me for anything else?” Jason had edged towards the door. Typical Jaybird – started getting antsy around too many people. That he’d lasted this long was a minor miracle. Usually he disappeared, away on his bike before you knew he was gone.
“The welcome dinner is at 8 PM.” Bruce clapped Jason on the shoulder. Instead of shrugging it off, Jason glared. Dick boggled at his brother’s strange behavior. He only allowed touches during sparring. “Don’t be late. Alfred is overseeing the menu.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jason said, turning to commit to his escape. “I’ll be there for Alfred.”
The door closed behind him, soft and controlled. A lot unlike all the door slams Dick remembered from Jason’s formative years…and his recent years, if Dick were honest.
“He’s in a strangely good mood,” Dick remarked. “How the hell did you get him to wear a suit to this?”
It was loud, red and brown and gold, but still – an actual suit. Generally the best Jason did even in well-heeled company was a leather jacket tossed over a dress shirt.
“I can’t claim any responsibility for that,” Bruce admitted. “Alfred was trying to convince him to come get tailored last month. He told Jason it would be disrespectful to Tim to come under-dressed.”
“Huh,” Dick pursed his lips. “Weird. Six months ago the only role he wanted with Tim seemed to be guard dog.”
“I suppose our omega has made an impression, somehow.”
Dick shrugged. He’d thought Jason would be much harder to handle as the contract signing got closer, but a week or two ago he’d suddenly started showing a modicum of interest in the proceedings. Where before he’d barely promised to sign the damn papers, obviously he’d deigned to let Alfred get a stylist to dress him. Baffling, but that was Jason. He certainly kept them all on their toes.
It wasn’t the only thing Dick wanted to talk about, though.
“So you haven’t changed your mind about tonight?” he asked casually.
Bruce gave Dick a long look. “No, I haven’t. We need to ensure he can’t catch before we’re ready. Tim will have plenty of time to entertain you. You can give him one night to get acclimated.”
“Can he at least sleep with me?” Dick asked, having already anticipated the refusal. Then, hastily, “Nighties on.”
Leveling a flat look at Dick, Bruce grunted. “Aren’t you going to be in Bludhaven?”
For once in his life Dick cursed patrol. He wanted to be there tonight to see Tim branded, his cervix marked with the Wayne crest and magic imprinted on his womb. They’d gone back and forth between magical and non-magical options to control Tim’s fertility; Bruce had decided on magical when Dick hadn’t had a strong opinion. But someone had to cover Bludhaven – it was a Friday night, worst of the week.
Dick’s wheedling response was interrupted by a Wayne assistant poking their head in to guide them back to the signing room.
Janet was sat next to Tim, each of them equally unreadable, but there in the middle of the table laid the contract. The final signature was in place.
“I trust my omega to you,” Janet said, clearly not one for beating around the bush.
“We will repay that trust with good care,” Bruce replied, the traditional answer.
“See that you do.” Janet tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, for once looking a bit like her son. “Our house remains open to him and his blood, should you not.”
Bold of her, Dick thought. Those words weren’t commonly said any longer, the contract taking care of any allegations of neglect or abuse.
With her ultimatum delivered, Janet bent towards Tim. They air kissed twice before Janet leaned in, mouth to Tim’s ear, and whispered. He merely nodded placidly and murmured, “Yes, mother.”
And Janet was gone, the lawyers behind her. It left Tim alone with Dick and Bruce and a few Wayne assistants.
Dick offered Tim his arm, giving him the most inviting grin he could muster. “Come on, Tim. Time to go home.”
/