Fan-fiction One Shots

Batman - 'Brotherly' Love

Damian's palms itched. For three days, he slogged through briefings, missions, and training sessions, each task becoming steadily more difficult for him to handle. Everyone around him, barring Alfred, would bristle whenever he came near. Instead of heeding their stammered, awkward, and sometimes outright rude suggestions that he hunker down in a safe-house away from the family for a while, or perhaps take a solo vacation, he remained vigilant in fighting by their sides.

Being stubborn was a mistake. Of course, everything seemed obvious in hindsight, which was what he told himself when the week of his very first heat came and he had to try to save face. The days before, spent in discomfort and a vague haze of confusion, were merely a preamble. Logically, he knew he would have fought them on it if they had told him he was an omega. He grew up under the assumption he would present alpha, like his father and brothers, but the arrival of those tender pre-heat hours gave everyone what was now a glaringly obvious start. . A first heat was important, not to mention strong.

Damian suffered. Past the itchy palms, there was also a feverish heat to his skin making him twist uncomfortably in his sheets, every so often urging him on his knees to present, face in the pillows, ass in the air, awaiting any of the owners of the swirl of scents around the Manor to return home and breed him. He needed more. More of that, more of something else. More of anything. He hated being a slave to his biology, something he'd spent all evening agonising over before the hours converged on this moment. Instinct had outweighed pride, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching between his thighs and rubbing the pads of two fingers over his dripping hole, keening at the sensation. All he could think about was that it felt good. Felt right.

Hesitantly, he pressed the tip of one finger inside, the other following until both were down to the last knuckle. He shook all over from that alone, and a few seconds of shallow pumping in and out was all it took for his cock to start leaking, having already been swollen to full size since the second he even considered touching himself. A couple clumsy humping motions against the bedding made him gasp, sharp and loud with no hope of being muffled, much like the sound that came after. 

He couldn't stop moving, even if the drag of sheets against his hyper-sensitive cock sent sparks of pleasure-pain crackling through him. Overstimulated or otherwise, nothing could have prevented him from exaggerating his presenting arch when the sudden scent of alpha hit, strong and close. So close. In the room. Perfect. "Please," he murmured, a single syllable pushed out of him like air straight from his lungs. "Assistance. Need it. Your knot. Come on, come here—"

"Shit!" Drake's voice. Panicked. "Oh, god, this is bad. This is so bad!" No fucking kidding, Damian wanted to say. Instead, he pulled his fingers out of himself and curled them in the sheets as if gripping for leverage, should his brother lose his marbles and decide to give him what he wanted.  Drake needed to get out. Hormones flared. No, Drake needed to stay in. In fact, he needed to move closer. "Damian. Damian, can you understand me?" The tone was so concerned, so protective. It made Damian wetter, ready to receive.

When Tim approached the head of the bed, Damian could see that his cowl was still on. Thank goodness he had broken Father's rule about wearing costumes in the house, because otherwise the scent blockers wouldn't have been standing between him and a vicious, untimely rut. "I understand," he finally replied. With effort, he managed to relax his fingers where they had clenched in the sheets. "Need you to..." Keep the others out. Let the others in?