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The scent of smoldering firewood and pine lets Dick know his guest of honor has finally arrived long before Lord Slade Wilson comes to find him on the second-story balcony.
“I don’t enjoy being used, little omega,” Slade says as he joins Dick at the balustrade.
Dick smiles at him as he takes a sip of his drink—a fruit wine that’s pleasantly bubbly on his tongue, and makes him feel pleasantly warm. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Wayne nearly had a fit when he saw me,” Slade says, leaning an elbow on the railing and facing Dick. “Odd reaction, as it was his own seal on the invitation. Almost as odd as inviting me in the first place, considering he’d rather lop his own arm off rather than let me anywhere near you.”
“And yet you came.”
“It isn’t every day a little bird gets married off.” Slade leans in and takes Dick’s chin between his thumb and finger. “And despite the personal invitation, I can’t imagine I’m your choice. I shouldn’t be surprised you’re scheming something.”
“Scheming?” Dick says innocently. “Me?”
Though Slade isn’t wrong. He’s made his interest in Dick clear, and Dick’s made his lack of interest equally so. Slade’s presence here is nothing but as a pawn in a gambit. Dick should perhaps feel more badly about it, but this barely scratches the surface of what Slade owes him.
Slade snorts and lets him go. “Save it for someone who you haven’t made trouble for yet.”
“You make your own trouble.” Dick takes another sip of drink, now that his jaw is free again. “If you’re suspecting me of all that, then you shouldn’t have followed me up here.”
The balcony is upstairs, attached to Bruce’s study. The party is being held downstairs, in the ballroom. Everyone knows it’s to find Dick a mate, but what that really means is that Bruce would find someone for his wayward ward. Dick’s own input was optional.
That was the norm, anyway. Bruce had been clear about it equally being Dick’s choice and likely would have preferred him to stay in the ballroom to vet the suitors. But Dick has already made his choice, and staying in the ballroom any longer wouldn’t have helped, so he left. That wasn’t controversial.
Being caught alone with an unmated alpha is a different story.
“The way I see it,” Slade says, “the consequences of being caught would be much worse for you than it would for me.”
“That’s only because you have no imagination.” Dick tips his head back and drains the rest of his glass.
Slade watches him with undisguised interest. “Do tell.”
“What you’re thinking of is the classic story of entrapment.” Dick leads the way back into the study. He sets the empty glass on the desk and begins taking off his suit jacket as he speaks. His back is beginning to sweat. “Someone—a parent, or friend, or enemy, or perhaps one of the pair themselves—conspires to get an alpha and omega alone together, and then arranges for their discovery, thus necessitating they be bonded to save the omega’s honor.”
“Are you suggesting there’s another way things could end in that situation?”
Dick undoes the buttons of his shirt, watching as Slade’s eye darts to the window of skin. The scent of smoke grows stronger. “Have you heard of fireflower?”
Slade’s eye narrows, and flicks to the empty glass on the desk. “A heat inducer. A potent one, that becomes a poison in larger doses if not dealt with appropriately.”
Dick slings his arms around the back of Slade’s neck and tugs him backward, toward the chaise. “Let’s say the omega was slipped some fireflower before this rendezvous. A poisonous amount.”
“Then that poor hapless omega would need a knot,” Slade drawls, putting a large, hot hand against Dick’s back, “and soon. Somehow I don’t imagine the situation would be improved any if everyone were to catch them then.”
“Your imagination is lacking again.” Dick tugs at the collar covering his neck and drops it to the ground. Slade’s fingers flex against his back. It’s a specially-woven fabric, infused every night with a mixture of herbs to subdue his scent. Now, with it off, the room smells unmistakably of heat. “Say they hadn’t gotten very far yet. And say it wasn’t everyone that caught them. Say it was just one person.”
Slade’s eye narrows, finger rubbing Dick’s back in consideration. “Then I suppose that person has a choice. If they approved of the match, they could call for attention; if they didn’t, they could simply separate the two and stay silent.”
“You’re forgetting something,” Dick says as familiar, hurried footsteps approach. He pitches backward, dropping himself onto the chaise while yanking Slade on top of him, and smirks. “The poor hapless omega needs a knot.”
“Wilson!” Bruce barks as he barges into the study, heavy doors swinging shut behind him. “Get off him this instant!”
Bruce’s scent fills the room, musky and thick with anger and protectiveness. Dick shivers as it envelops him, feeling his heat grow.
Slade stares down at Dick. One side of his mouth curls up. “I see my imagination was indeed quite lacking.”
Bruce yanks Slade up by the shoulder. “What have you done?”
“Nothing.” Slade’s eye flicks to the empty glass. “Yet.”
Bruce frowns at the glass, then at Slade. “Not a single movement,” he warns. He makes his way over to the desk and picks up the glass, inspecting the dregs of liquid. He’s only barely brought it to his nose when he rears back and looks at Slade in horror. “You dared to—”
“I have done nothing,” Slade says.
“He’s telling the truth,” Dick says, not bothering to hide the fluster in his voice. “He was helping me.”
“He will do no such thing,” Bruce snaps, his scent flaring with so much protectiveness that Dick is dizzy with it, and it’s only when they both turn to stare at him that he realizes he’s whining softly. He forces himself to stop.
“If you know of fireflower,” Slade says lowly, “then you know of its effects. He needs help.”
“And he will receive it,” Bruce says. “Not from you. Your presence is no longer required or desired here.”
Slade looks between them both, his gaze knowing. “So be it.”
Bruce leads him out of the study and then lingers at the door, murmuring in a low voice to someone outside—Alfred? Then he shuts the door again and returns, unhurried, to the chaise.
Dick looks up at him. His expression is unreadable, but Dick’s breath quickens in anticipation anyway. “I’m sorry.”
“You aren’t to blame,” Bruce says, and Dick is glad that the forced heat disguises his erratic heartbeat and flush of guilt.
Bruce crouches beside the chaise, putting the back of his hand to Dick’s forehead as though he’s a pup with a fever. Dick tilts his head, nuzzling against it, and Bruce trails his hand down to cup Dick’s cheek.
“You know the effects of fireflower,” he says quietly.
His scent has lost its edge of anger, and the sandalwood washes over Dick, soothing and protective in a way that he has never felt with anyone other than Bruce. He feels himself slicking, walls clenching in anticipation of what’s to come. “Yes.”
“You’ll have to catch.”
Dick whimpers softly and arches before he can even think about it, aching and wet at the thought of how thoroughly he’ll have to be fucked—how thoroughly Bruce will have to fuck him.
Bruce puts a hand on Dick’s bare chest, pushing and holding him back down, and looks at him with darkened eyes. “You would ask Slade Wilson to pup you before you would ask me?”
Dick clutches onto his arm, but doesn’t try to remove it. “You don’t want me. You’re trying to get rid of me.”
“You’ve been of age for many years now,” Bruce says. “The longer you stay here unmated, the dimmer your prospects become.”
“I don’t care about my prospects.”
Bruce studies him in silence for a few seconds. Then he says, with certainty, “You did this to yourself.”
There’s no bitter trace of anger in his scent, which is what emboldens Dick to say, “And if I did?”
“If you wanted a pup by me,” Bruce says, “all you needed to do was ask.”
Dick has no chance to respond; Bruce is on him in a heartbeat, throwing Dick’s pants off and spreading Dick’s legs with his knees. Fingers jam into his hole, easy and deep with how wet he is, and Dick tips his head back and gasps, and gasps again when teeth scrape at his throat.
He puts his hands on the fronts of Bruce’s shoulders, but doesn’t push him away. If Bruce wants to bite him, Dick will let him. Dick will let him do anything.
More fingers, thick and warm, press into his hole. It’s no substitute for a cock or a knot, but Dick clenches and drips around them anyway, chanting please Bruce please.
Bruce kisses him on the mouth, flexing his fingers expertly, and Dick keens and comes, his hole fluttering as wetness drenches the insides of his thighs.
It only makes him want more.
He paws at Bruce’s pants, trying to shove them off. He hadn’t even realized Bruce hadn’t undressed at all, only rolled up one sleeve for the hand he’d buried inside Dick. He’s never going to be able to look at Bruce in a suit the same way ever again.
Bruce withdraws his fingers and traces them along the crease of Dick’s thigh. He isn’t helping with his pants at all.
Dick yanks harder at the fabric. “Stop teasing.”
Bruce taps his damp fingers against Dick’s cheek. “You’ve spent all over. Is that teasing?”
“You know what I want.”
“It seems I don’t.” Bruce pulls Dick’s head back by his hair, exposing his throat. “Otherwise you would have been pupped by now.”
Dick whimpers as a fresh wave of heat floods him. He’d never thought much about having pups, the practicalities of it often getting in the way, but when the idea of fireflower came to him, he couldn’t let it go. And now, faced with the reality of it, he wants.
He hooks a leg around Bruce’s back, tugging him down the same time he bucks his hips up. He can feel Bruce through his pants, so firm and hot it makes him groan and pull Bruce down harder against him.
“Greedy,” Bruce scolds against Dick’s throat, one hand clamping down on Dick’s thigh to keep him on the bed.
“Cruel,” Dick whines back. “I’m in heat.”
“Consequences you brought upon yourself.”
Dick tries to move his head to glare, but Bruce’s fist in his hair keeps his throat bared. He squirms uselessly. “You’re punishing me for entrapping you.”
Bruce squeezes Dick’s thigh, and nips at his throat. “I’m punishing you for bringing others into situations where they have no right to be. You may entrap me whenever you’d like.”
Dick whines again and bucks up, hard enough to free himself for Bruce’s grip and grind against the front of his pants, spreading slick everywhere. The air in the room feels sticky with his desperation, burnt sugar scent so strong to Dick’s own nose that he doesn’t know how Bruce is ignoring it.
He tries to rein it in, make it as sweet as he can as he whines softly, a wordless don’t be upset that Bruce reacts to by nuzzling his throat and kissing him in the center of it. Dick swallows, throat bobbing against Bruce’s lips, and feels like he’s about to burst.
“Bruce.” Dick clutches at his shoulders. “Bruce, please, I can’t take it.”
Bruce hushes him gently. “Okay,” he says, “okay.”
He kisses Dick on the mouth and moves his hand down. After a brief rustling of fabric and some adjustments to their position, Bruce’s cock presses against him.
Dick tilts his hips up to meet Bruce, the same time Bruce adjusts himself down to meet Dick, and there is some unfortunate jabbing before Bruce seizes Dick’s hip and says, with a thread of alpha command he rarely ever uses on Dick, “Stay.”
Dick shivers and feels himself give, letting himself be put where Bruce wants to put him. He’s rewarded for it when he finally, finally feels Bruce pressing inside.
It’s as good as he imagined it to be, thick and hot and satisfying. He clenches down hard, wanting to feel every part of it.
Above him, Bruce groans. “If you want me to last—”
“I want,” Dick says, “your knot.”
“You’ll have it.” Bruce bears down, kissing Dick firmly as he moves faster, his hips slapping Dick with enough force to sting.
Dick clutches at Bruce as his breath is punched out of him in short gasps. The thrusts feel punishingly hard, but he isn’t going to complain, not when he’s getting everything he ever wanted and more.
Bruce’s teeth clamp down his on his shoulder, just shy of his mating gland, and Dick shouts and writhes as Bruce’s knot swells inside him, delightfully and uncomfortably filling. It catches against his hole with a sort of finality that makes Dick squirm and gasp and then come again, clenching tightly around Bruce’s knot as if to hold on to him forever.
Bruce’s hands rub his sides, gentling him. “You’re all right,” he says, and that’s when Dick realizes tears are escaping him. Bruce swipes them away with a thumb. “Does it hurt?”
Dick shakes his head and reaches up and covers Bruce’s hand with his own, keeping it pressed against his cheek, just to feel Bruce there. He doesn’t deserve Bruce’s tenderness right now. “I’m sorry.”
Bruce kisses him in the center of his forehead. “We’ll discuss it later. Tonight, all you need to do is make a pup for me. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Dick says, pushing himself against Bruce and pressing his knot deeper, “please.”
Bruce strokes his cheek with a thumb, then kisses it. “I’ll take care of you,” he promises.
It’s all Dick ever wanted.