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Someone punches Jason down onto the roof and he goes flying. His protected head meets the cold, hard concrete. Spark flies.
Jason quickly scrambles to stand, alarmed, taking on a fighting stance.
The mysterious stranger is now standing before him. A mere shadow—strong, muscled, athletic—yet lean enough to attain some of the best agility Jason has seen. He is armored, and Jason can’t see him clearly enough to determine who it is.
“Going somewhere, omega?”
That voice! It’s familiar, too. A baritone. Typical for betas and most alphas. It’s not good, it’s-
Before Jason can decide what to do, the figure strikes again.
Alarmed, Jason is quick to dodge and pull out his gun. He makes a couple of shots. One misses, the other scraping past the unknown adversary’s armor. Then, the shadow is in front of him, throwing his whole weight into a nasty punch over Jason’s jaw.
Jason is wearing his helmet, but the enemy’s punch is forceful enough to throw his head upward.
Jason retaliates by elbowing the stranger, who blocks it with his armored forearm, and the resulting clash forces them both back.
“Don’t you tell me you don’t remember me, pup,” the mysterious man says before pouncing once more.
Jason deals another few shots, following the assailant’s path as he runs toward him. Then, he is too close for guns.
Jason points the barrel back to hit the man with the handle, successfully hitting the man’s left arm. Then, Jason punches with his plated knuckle, landing a hit on the man’s jaw that throws his head back for a moment, a bruise blooming on his chin.
Jason hears a dark chuckle, then metal sliding as a long Katana sword appears. The assailant doesn’t use it, however. Instead, Jason feels fingers clutch all around his helmet before the man pushes his head down, crashing him onto the roof and hitting his head on the hard surface.
The enemy crashes Jason’s head onto the roof repeatedly. Hard enough to crack and hard enough to subdue. Jason grabs his gun and shoots at the guy in his blindness. Breathing speed despite all the training he went through during his travels. This man is different. This man is skilled.
Wanting to scream out of his lungs the words “What do you want?”, Jason bares his teeth instead. Then, the man retreats.
Jason blinks. There’s a heavy weight on his hips as his attacker sits on top of them. The helmet cracks, pieces fall, and Jason sees through the resulting hole the man responsible for his ambush.
Long hair. Familiar features. Black domino mask—
Jason was going to react, before fingers snake underneath his neck and pinch.
To Jason’s horror, his entire body goes limp in one instant.
“Hello, Little Wing. Haven’t seen you in a while. Heard you’ve been... quite dead lately.”
A scent hits him.
Alpha. Sandalwood with lime, now musky with a sense of power and warning. Stay down, or suffer the consequences. Every fiber in Jason’s being screams the word danger.
Jason bares his teeth and, on instinct, he tries to offer his own growl as retaliation. But no sound comes out.
Jason tenses when fingers touch his throat. Gently, but firmly, it pulls down the collar of his kevlar. Rough, gloved fingers run over the skin there, over the bump that is a brutal, deep, and pink scar across his throat.
“Made by a batarang, huh? You can’t speak. Not anymore. You know, you make me think of a friend of mine. The silence has a lot of charm… though, the lack of screaming could be boring.”
Jason can’t stop glaring.
The face. That familiar face that he has learned is no other than the young alpha he admired as a pup. But it’s so strange to think that the Robin before him is wearing Deathstroke’s colors, orange on one side of his uniform with a silver R printed on it. The long hair and the armor give him such an intriguing alpha attractiveness. And the sword—lethal.
“You are like the rabbit,” the alpha muses, a sense of wonder in his voice. “Do you know they are born without a vocal cord? That they make no sound? The only times they do, it’s right before they die, and they have to force air painfully through their airway. It’s a sharp sound, like air pushing through a small tunnel. Have you heard a rabbit’s scream, Little Wing?”
Renegade. The mysterious mercenary—Deathstroke’s apprentice—used to follow Jason around when he was still Robin. Who seemed to have a fascination with him, even before his designation surfaced.
Whom, Jason had learned after putting his plans against Batman in action, is no other than his predecessor. Dick Grayson—the first Boy Wonder.
“I wonder if I can make you scream, too?” Flashing his teeth, Dick smiles. It looks menacing as he leans down to scent Jason. Jason’s body stiffens. He squirms, trying to get out.
The body leaves briefly before a hand comes down and slaps him across the face. The blow is powerful enough to crack more of his helmet and bring blood to his lips.
“Stay down, princess. I have things to say, and I want you to listen. Don’t make a stupid move before I’m done.”
Jason looks to the side and spits blood over the cement. With one of his hands, he tries to clutch tighter his gun. But it’s like his muscles have fallen asleep. The scruffing… he can’t escape it.
It appears that Renegade has figured out his thoughts, and he stands to kick the gun out of Jason’s hand. It slides across the roof, spins, and stops a good ten feet away.
“None of that, princess,” the alpha coos. “Tonight, you are mine. And—as you will soon realize—the nights after, too.”
Jason looks up, utter contempt written all over his face. Bitterness fills his mouth despite the metallic tang of the blood. The words are vile and intrusive, but it brings a tingle down Jason’s spine. Time stops with Dick’s smile and Dick’s words. And a pang surfaces briefly when Jason is reminded of his meeting with Bruce in Gotham only a few months ago. The reminder of a pack he can no longer go back to.
“Fancy seeing you here, outside of the city,” Dick says, crouching again. “You know, I always knew B wasn’t up to the task. I was going to beat him to it as soon as you presented. I was going to abduct you and make you mine. Make you my mate. Even Slade agreed to that plan. When you finally did, you presented as an omega, just as I had hoped. But then, you just had to go and get yourself killed.”
There’s a shiver down Jason’s spine. And, as if detecting his feelings, Dick’s face darkens.
“I was furious when you died. Angry at B. Angry at you for dying. You were my successor, you were mine, Robin. Your pack leader has failed to protect you.”
That old title brings another shiver, and Jason bares his teeth. He strains to work against the scruffing hormone. Get up and fight. This is not his place to sit quietly and submissively when his predecessor talks about his fascination with him when he was a pup. Not when he hears those words coming straight out of Grayson’s mouth. Not when the obsession is dark and terrifying. Not when Jason has spent the past month in Gotham for no other reason than to, to-
To investigate why Renegade killed Joker.
“When you died, I was broken.” Dick’s face softens somewhat, but there’s vileness in his tone and hatred in his scent that makes Jason tense in alarm. Suddenly, Jason is glad his scent blocker is working. Letting his distressed omega scent fly is the last thing he wants when there’s an angry alpha towering over him.
“At first, I sought Bruce, and we argued,” Dick says. “Argued and argued. It was such an unpleasant sight if you saw it—two angry alphas throwing their scents and teeth at each other, each wanting to gain dominance, like two animals. I hated B, and I loathed you for dying, for leaving the world without my permission. But there was someone still that I hated more. So, I sought revenge. Tried to kill the Joker myself. B stopped me. Tried again, and again. It never succeeded until the news came that you were back.”
Dick’s voice is changing. Shifting into something softer and more private as he tells his story. It becomes nothing more than a whisper, a lulling presence in Jason’s strained mind.
When there’s a shift in Dick’s right hand, lifting the Katana in his hand, Jason stills. His muscles strain to get out of the biological instinct to submit. Try to fight back-
But Dick doesn’t use the sword. Instead, he sits back between Jason’s legs and reaches down with his other hand, briefly leaving Jason’s neck to settle between his legs.
Jason realizes with a sense of horror that he’s already wet there, his slick soaking through his undergarment as well as his pants.
“When was your last heat, sweetheart?” Dick says as he rubs the area, fingers brushing Jason’s pussy and his cock through the fabric. Jason’s breathing hikes, his legs tightening involuntarily but only successfully pinching Dick’s body between them.
“Have you had a heat at all since you came back? Were you on suppressants? Not surprising. If you were going after B, I can’t imagine going into heat is something you wanted.”
Fuck. The muscles that bulge and settle when he works. The magnetic sound of his voice. The concentration that he has had since he was Robin. The power he presents, the muskiness of his scent...
Dick Grayson is everything the alpha Jason’s addled mind desires.
Dick stops only briefly, but it’s enough to make Jason want to whine through his broken throat. All that comes is a sharp flow of air. Dick comes back with the wooden scabbard of the sword in hand and shushes Jason as if he were still a pup.
“There, there. Your big brother has got you, Robin.”
Another wave of comforting scent washes over him, and Jason’s body softens, following his biological instincts. Jason is angry. He is hurt. He wants nothing more than death and taking control of the city Bruce had worked so hard to protect—
But the truth is, Jason longs for a pack and pack mates who care for him. That is why Jason’s world crashed down when he had learned Joker was dead. Killed by the very alpha in front of him.
That was why Jason had to see him. He has spent the past weeks trying to track Dick down, but when the moment came, the mercenary found him instead.
Jason feels the pressure between his legs, and suddenly, a little strength returns to him. His hands tighten into fists and he swings up. Dick is quick enough to dodge, but he has retreated enough for Jason to use the opportunity and kick up. His foot hits Dick’s shin, and he uses the moment of surprise to pounce.
A slash of the sword. Jason dodges it and hits Dick with his fist. Dick hits him with the handle of the sword. Hard.
Jason spits blood and reels. The effects of scruffing, it appears, last long even if one gains temporary control over one’s limbs.
Dick kicks Jason in the stomach and hits him again on the jaw. He kicks again, this time swinging over Jason’s lower legs to destabilize him.
The plan works and Jason falls. In a moment Dick is over him and slapping him across the face. He does it once to stun him, then he pins both of his wrists using one hand, leans down, and kisses him.
Jason’s eyes widen in disbelief. His body squirms. Despite the humiliation and the alpha’s claim to own him, Jason finds himself unable to resist.
“Not smart, princess,” Dick sneers as he sits back. He holds both of Jason’s wrists and smiles down. A cold and dark smile that is nothing like his golden boy face from years ago. “Better lay back and enjoy it. You know you can’t escape this.”
Jason hisses, then opening his mouth only to mouth the words “fuck you”.
“So much anger,” Dick says as he resumes, finding his way between Jason’s legs, running his scabbard along the slit. “Yet, you are responsive like a whore. Do you do this for anyone who touches you, or just for Big Brother?”
Jason moans silently as Dick’s pressure increases. Before long he is thrusting his own hips up in need, meeting the scabbard halfway.
“There, there,” Dick says, pressing the scabbard between Jason’s legs as he positions the blade of the Katana close to his exposed neck. Jason’s breath hitches. “I won’t hurt you. Trust me. Trust me. I will make you feel good. I will make you see why you should belong to me.”
Jason’s breathing quickens from the immediate threat of the blade at his throat. His face is forced skyward, looking up at the neon-lit night sky. He can’t see as his predecessor starts to run the rounded head of the scabbard between his legs and the slit of his cunt. The sword makes sure that he can’t move even if his body isn’t still recovering from the scruff.
“Can’t take you right here. But that’s exactly why I need to leave my mark, isn’t it? Can’t let other predators take my prey.”
God. He is pressing so hard. It must be bruising. It hurts, even with his pants in the way.
And Jason doesn’t want Dick to stop.
The hard surface of the wooden head runs back and forth over the slit, pressing on the omega’s cock, then circles back down. Jason’s cunt is opening for the possibility of mating, and his cock is filling up. A tent grows under his pants, and Jason thrusts up, his body sensitive all over.
Dick chuckles above him.
“Dissatisfied slut. Batman doesn’t know what he is missing. He should see me having his son on the roof, splayed out, keening like a bitch. Bet he didn’t know his precious son would writhe like a whore for whoever kills Joker for him, huh?”
A pause. The wood presses between the lips of the cunt, right in the center of that wetness. The blade at Jason’s neck tightens some more and draws blood.
Dick leans in, using the same pressure as he licks the blood slowly from the wound.
“Can’t wait for the city cameras to capture us,” he says, voice almost ecstatic. “I am defiling Batman’s son.”
The alpha muskiness is almost suffocating. Dick is leaving his mark on Bruce’s territory.
Then the motion of the scabbard resumes. Jason breathes against the blade at his neck. Dick can kill him any time, Jason realizes. Dick is crazy. He is a killer. The threat is very much real.
Which is what makes this so thrilling.
In a moment, Jason comes. His cunt contracts and his cock twitches, wetness building between his legs.
Jason twitches, spasms, and sobs.
The weapon stays for a little longer. When the Katana retreats, it’s accompanied by Dick’s astoundingly soft words.
“You are mine, little bird. Don’t you ever forget it.”
Jason wants to say fuck off, but the words stop in his broken throat.
Dick leans down and kisses the scar on his throat. Sucking, licking.
“How did it feel, omega?” He asks with a chuckle. “To be threatened with another slash right over here, only to get off from the thought?”
No reply.
“You are a slut. Hood. That’s what you are. You are my successor and you are mine to ruin. Don’t you ever fucking forget that.”
Jason gasps when there’s a sharp pain. A bite. Over his scent gland. Deep enough to draw blood. Deep enough to mark.
Dick leans back, licking the blood off of his lips.
“Because I am the only one you have left, my dear one,” the villain says, eyes narrowed into slits. “I am the only one left who loves you.”
With that, he stands, sheathing his sword and picking Jason up in his arms. The weight of all the muscles Jason has gained seems like nothing to him.
“We shall be mated, princess. And once it happens, even Batman won’t be able to stop us.”