Chapter Text
The smell of heat is strong and familiar. Bruce keeps his eyes shut and his breathing even. With practised effort, he stays limp, controlling the natural instinct of his muscles to twitch and stretch. His immediate recollection of the events before this is blurry. He needs to collect information before giving himself away.
He’s on his knees, he determines. Despite staying limp, he’s half upright, propped up by the muscles in his thighs and calves. He’s bent backwards over his arms, which are clasped together at his back, slumped half to the side due to the slack in his abs. His head is resting lightly against the floor.
Based on the strain in his body, he’s been in this position a few minutes at least, but likely not that long.
“God, he smells good,” says a voice, loud and close. Bruce doesn’t startle because he has years of experience, but the sound is sudden and unexpected. “Are you sure we can’t -”
“Shut the fuck up,” another voice says. Higher than the previous one. Bruce recognises neither of them. “You know the damn rules.”
Bruce doesn’t know what rules the second voice is referring to, but he can guess the subject of the first. Someone nearby is in heat. It had been the first thing Bruce noticed upon waking - his alpha instincts pinging at an instinctual level that precedes conscious thought. It’s sweet and heavy in the air, cut through with a familiar citrus tang. Familiar…
Some of the fog in Bruce’s brain clears a little. An in-heat omega isn’t a surprise, he remembers. Before he’d lost consciousness, they’d been infiltrating a suspected auction that was selling young in-heat omegas to potential bidders. It’s an archaic set-up. Despite all the ugliness Bruce has seen in Gotham, he’d still been surprised by the knowledge that someone was attempting to auction people off like chattel, like some modern day slave market. And he knows - he knows that there are still slave markets in the world, but it had still surprised and sickened him.
Batman and Robin had called in Nightwing for back-up. Batman and Nightwing had infiltrated the warehouse where the omegas were being held captive, Robin providing support from outside the building. They’d - they’d been distracted by a familiar scent, sweet honey and lemon. Someone had gotten the drop on them.
Jason, Bruce realises, coherent thought battling through the lingering effects of whatever drug he’d been given. It was Jason they’d been distracted by. Because he’d been there, with the other omegas. Bruce isn’t sure how or why. If it had been an undercover mission that Bruce had been woefully uninformed about or if they had somehow managed to grab Jason some other way.
It seems unbelievable. Bruce knows Jason and he might not agree with all of his methods, but he knows that everything Jason does is considered and calculated. He knows that Jason has a better chance than the average omega against most threats. He knows that Jason probably meant to be here and that Bruce and Nightwing’s arrival was an unwelcome interference in his plans.
He also knows that Jason is an omega and - however distantly - pack and that he’d been in danger and that both Bruce and Dick’s alpha instincts had reacted to that and that it had made them vulnerable.
The heat scent in the air is Jason’s scent. Bruce would recognise it anywhere. He still remembers Jason’s presentation - when they’d all still thought he would be tipping into a rut and had been painfully surprised by an unexpected heat. Remembers the usually sharp scent sweetening and the way his alpha instincts had responded, protective in a unique way he had never experienced before.
He remembers the way Dick had reacted. The way he’d come back to the manor for the first time since they’d had their blow-out argument. How gentle he’d been with Jason, who’d been frightened and panicking, but how well he’d tempered that with normalcy.
Smelling Jason’s heat here, in a place like this, it has bile surging to Bruce’s throat. Jason should be in heat somewhere safe. At the manor, ideally, or at a safe house. Somewhere with a nest, comfortable and protected.
Not in a supposedly abandoned warehouse, surrounded by enemies, surrounded by men who Bruce knows will happily violate an omega for their own grotesque pleasure.
Protecting Jason is more important than gathering intel. Bruce jerks upright, his core muscles protesting the movement. Something catches on his wrists - a short chain pinning them to the ground. It allows Bruce to sit upright but he’s yanked back the moment he tries to get his feet under him.
He strains against the chain, grunting, trying to right himself. Somewhere close by, there’s movement, a startled sound.
“What the fuck?” the first alpha yelps. “How the fuck is he awake already?”
Bruce growls. He lunges against the chain again. It’s an ineffective way of trying to release himself, but the intimidation factor has some merit.
The alpha standing nearby flinches at the sudden movement. Bruce’s gaze snaps to him. He’s big, but not as big as Bruce, built in the way a lot of Gotham men are - brawn gained from years of fighting and scrapping. He looks like he relies on throwing his weight around rather than any actual skill.
The other alpha is slimmer and shorter. He’s standing beside a figure slumped on the ground. It’s Nightwing, Bruce registers after a moment, dark blue and black limbs restrained in much the same way as Bruce is. His face is slack behind his domino mask. Even Bruce can’t tell if he’s really unconscious or if he’s performing the same initial environment checks that Bruce had.
Either way, the sight of his son limp and restrained by heavy chains bolted into the ground has Bruce’s chest clenching. His gauntlets and Nightwing’s gloves have been removed, so the thick manacles clasped around their wrists fit snug against the skin. Already, Bruce can feel the pinch of metal digging into his flesh.
The rest of the room is bare. At first glance, it’s obvious that they’re still in the warehouse they had infiltrated - the base of operations for the auction - but he doesn’t recognise the room they’re trapped in. The restraints are clearly not temporary, so Bruce suspects it’s a sort of holding room. There are no other omegas here though, unlike the space they had first discovered Jason in, which had been packed with unfortunate souls chained to benches or kneeling in crates that were clearly designed for dogs rather than people.
Bruce feels a little sick remembering the way they’d found Jason. Clothed in plain white trousers and a t-shirt, a thick leather collar around his throat, the mesh of the crate digging into the bare flesh of his arm where he’d been resting against it. Remembers the thick, inescapable scent of heat and fear that was emanating off of every omega they had crammed into that despicable space.
It’s only Jason’s heat scent Bruce can smell in the air now. His pack omega is lying across from them. He’s not chained to the floor in the same way Bruce and Dick are, but he’s restrained by thick ropes that criss-cross over his chest, binding his arms behind him, and snake over his legs. His wrists and ankles are tied together and he’s lying awkwardly on his side to accommodate the bondage. It’s an effective restraint. But it leaves him manoeuvrable.
Bruce isn’t sure how bad this situation is. It’s possible that they’re keeping Batman and Nightwing out of the way while they complete the auction and are planning to simply leave them here when they abandon the warehouse. It’s possible that Jason isn’t anchored to the floor because they’re still intending to auction him off. It’s possible that they are planning to kill all three of them, or torture them for information.
They don’t necessarily know Jason’s relationship to them, but Bruce knows they’d both shown their hands when he and Nightwing had stumbled across him. He knows they’d reacted poorly, instinctively. Without knowing Jason’s plan, they may have potentially put him in more danger.
And they made themselves vulnerable too. With his pack omega’s heat scent in his nose, Bruce’s alpha instincts are roaring far louder than he would normally allow. Knowing that two of his pups are in danger is like a knife in his chest.
He growls again, a tearing rip of a sound. Both of the alphas’ lips peel back from their teeth in instinctive challenge. Beside him, Nightwing twitches at the noise. In front of them, Jason bares his own teeth. There’s no fear coming off of him, only anger.
“Shut the fuck up,” the first alpha snarls. He paces closer, then raises his foot to kick out hard at Bruce’s face. Bruce ducks, the chain jangling as he avoids the blow. The alpha staggers. Recovers. Reaches down and grabs Bruce by the throat, snarling furiously.
The cowl protects Bruce from the worst of the crushing grip. The alpha’s anger is hot in his nose. “You might think you’re a big fucking hero out there,” he snarls, “but you’re on our fucking turf now.”
Bruce doesn’t avoid the fist that collides hard with his cheek this time. The pain is sharp and sudden. It radiates nauseatingly across his face. If he wanted to, he could have jerked free and ducked the punch, but he needs to mitigate some of the alpha’s anger. He’s right, they’re on the back-foot here. Antagonising these men is not a smart move. Bruce isn’t the only one under their control.
There’s a sharp clink of chains beside him as Nightwing rights himself in one smooth movement.
“I understand,” Bruce says, quickly, before his son can come to his defence and attract their attention. “I’m sorry.”
The alpha holds his grip for a moment longer, before shoving Bruce backwards. Bruce lets himself be moved, letting himself go limp to avoid straining any muscles unnecessarily. The alpha looms over him, his posture aggressive, before stepping back.
“Why’d we get put on fucking babysitting duty?” he grumbles, turning back to his companion with a sneer.
The other alpha had stepped back quickly when Nightwing had jerked upright. He glances between the two of them with something like trepidation. “You should be grateful,” he says, and it takes Bruce a moment to realise he’s speaking to his companion and not them. “Not many people get to see Batman this close up.”
The first alpha snarls again. “I’d be more grateful if they’d let us have a little fun.” He glances at Jason and Bruce’s gut jumps. Jason meets the alpha’s gaze, face fixed in a snarl. “How do they fucking expect us to just sit here and do nothing when he smells like that?”
The second alpha shifts his weight nervously. “You know the rules man. We’re not supposed to touch them.”
“Yeah, but that was easier when you couldn’t tell which one of them was smelling so good, wasn’t it? Shoving us in this tiny room with a ‘mega that smells like that is just torture.”
Dread creeps through Bruce’s gut.
“Well they trussed him up here for a reason,” the second alpha says anxiously. “He must be important. The Boss will know it was you.”
The first alpha paces back and forth, clearly irritated. Bruce tests his cuffs again. They’re good quality. Bruce can probably slip them, but not without alerting his captors to what he’s doing. Beside him, he can sense Nightwing testing his own bonds. When Bruce glances at him, his face is set and tense.
“It’s not like it would be that big a deal,” the bigger alpha says. His pacing has taken him right up to Jason. He crouches, one big hand reaching down to cup Jason’s jaw. Jason tenses. “No way someone hasn’t had a go at this one before. It’s not like one more fuck will make a difference.”
“Dan,” the other alpha warns.
With a snarl, Jason jerks his head free. “Try it and you’ll regret it,” he growls, voice low and vicious enough to be an alpha’s. There’s still no fear in his scent, but Bruce’s veins are thrumming with enough fear for both of them.
The alpha doesn’t pull away. Despite Jason’s resistance, he traces one thick finger over the omega’s cheek, before gently touching his lower lip. Jason snaps his teeth.
“Hey,” Dick yells, loud and sudden enough that both alphas startle. “Don’t fucking touch him.”
Dan turns enough to direct a mean grin at Dick.
“You gonna stop me, little hero?”
“Your friend is right,” Bruce says, through a thick throat. “You don’t want to risk this. Surely you could find any omega. You don’t need to break your rules.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” the alpha snaps.
He grabs Jason’s face again, then slams his head into the ground. With his free hand he grasps at the omega’s waist. Jason bucks and snarls.
“No,” Bruce roars. He can hear the clang of Dick’s chains as he throws himself against them. “Don’t do this. Don’t!”
Dan ignores them. He fights against Jason’s desperate struggles, trying to get him onto his front, fumbling with the ropes around his ankles.
“Are you crazy?” the second alpha yelps. “Don’t fucking untie him.”
Dan huffs. “Well how the fuck am I supposed to get to his cunt with his ankles tied like this?”
“Stop,” Dick snarls. “Get the fuck away from him.”
“Dan, I’m serious! The Boss is gonna chop your balls off.”
Dan makes a strangled sound of frustration and springs to his feet, turning on the other alpha with a furious growl. The heaving, terrified thing in Bruce’s chest eases a little.
“So I’m supposed to just sit here with my knot swelling in the breeze?”
The second alpha spreads his hands helplessly. “You’ll just have to find something else to fuck. You’ve got a fist don’t you?”
Dan paces towards him. Then pauses. He glances at Bruce, then Dick. His eyes dip over Dick’s body, obviously flickering over his thighs, his belly, his throat. The terrified thing in Bruce’s chest quivers again at the weight of that look.
“You don’t want me to touch him, huh?” Dan says, his voice suddenly changed. Jason twitches where he’s still lying on the floor, his chest heaving and eyes wide.
Dick is still and tense.
“Why not?” Dan asks, stepping closer. “This your omega?”
Dick’s lips peel back from his teeth. “I’m not going to sit here and watch you rape someone.”
Dan’s head tilts. “But you smell his heat right? Don’t it make your cock hard?”
Dick recoils. Bruce’s own disgust is bitter in his throat.
“No?” The alpha crosses the distance between them in three quick steps, drops to his knees, and grabs Dick’s crotch. Bruce jolts. Jerks against his chains. “Clearly not. But it’s so strong. Strong enough it could be coming from anyone.”
There’s a sick insinuation in the words. “Don’t touch him,” Bruce growls. The words tear apart in his throat.
Dick’s cheeks ripple as he works his jaw.
“We’re not supposed to touch the omegas,” the alpha breathes, leaning close enough to Dick’s face that he automatically leans away. “But alphas have a tight hole too.”
Bruce flinches. Sick terror rises in his throat.
“And look at that - “ Dan’s free hand touches the soft skin beneath Dick’s jaw, right over his gland. “- you’ve even got a blocker on for me.”
“You’re gonna fuck an alpha?” Jason asks, loud and sudden. “With an omega right here?”
Bruce feels dizzy. Horror hooks sickeningly under his ribs. This can’t be happening. His pup - his pups. He can’t let the alpha touch Dick. Can’t let him touch Jason. This is Bruce’s fault. He’d put them in this position.
“Alphas ain’t off limits,” Dan murmurs. His gaze is dark as it traces Dick’s face. “And a hole is a hole.”
“Come on,” Jason snarls. “That’s not true. You think it’s going to feel the same as an in-heat cunt?”
Bruce’s body heaves.
“Shut up, Jason,” Dick snaps.
Dan sits back. He’s grinning, a sick, ugly smile cutting across his face. “Who do you think I should fuck?” he asks, eyes hot on Dick’s face.
“No one,” Bruce growls, before Dick can destroy him by sacrificing himself. “You’re making a mistake. If you touch either one of them -”
“No one asked you,” Dan barks. “Sit there and shut up.”
“It’s not a choice,” Dick cuts in, before Bruce can argue. “You touch that omega and you’re in trouble, right?” Then, in a low, breaking voice: “I won’t fight you.”
“No,” Jason roars. “No. I’m right here. You can fuck me. I won’t fight. I won’t tell.”
Bruce heaves again. There’s not much that can touch the horror of cradling his pup’s tiny, broken body in his arms, but he thinks this comes close: listening to his son’s argue in favour of their own rape.
Dan laughs. “Damn, you’re eager little sluts aren’t you?” He glances over his shoulder at Jason. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll have a chance to get your hole stuffed soon.”
Jason snarls loud and low enough that it could have come from an alpha. In contrast, Dick is silent, his lips pulled back hard from his teeth, his body trembling from how tightly he’s holding himself.
Dan smirks. Then, in one violent movement, he grabs Dick by the throat. Bruce hears him choke. The muscles of his arms flex uselessly.
He doesn’t resist as Dan pushes him to the ground, his arms twisting awkwardly to accommodate the position with the short length of the chain. It looks painful. It looks terrifying. Dan looms over him, crouching low over his back. The nape of Bruce’s neck prickles in sympathetic instinct.
“See,” Dan huffs. “You look just like an omega from here.”
“Jesus, Dan,” the other alpha mutters.
Dan laughs. A broad hand plasters over the back of Dick’s neck. The other fumbles at his uniform, struggling to find the seam.
“Don’t do this,” Bruce chokes out. “Please. Think about this. He might be an alpha but your boss clearly has a reason to not just dispose of us. We’re worth more untouched.”
Dan finds the hidden seam at the back of Nightwing’s uniform and tears it open. Bruce stares at the naked curve of Dick’s back. He’s seen Nightwing strip out of his uniform a hundred times, but now, like this, just that small flash of skin feels grotesque.
“The Boss isn’t going to give a shit.”
“Please,” Bruce says again, helplessly, as Dan fishes his cock out of his own pants. Musky alpha arousal spills into the air, a nauseating counterpoint to the sweet, heavy scent of Jason’s heat. Bruce can’t smell Dick. There’s a small part of him that’s glad of that - glad that he won’t be able to smell his son’s fear and pain.
Dan ignores him, jerking Dick’s uniform apart in rough motions, struggling to yank it open around his hips. Dick offers no resistance, even when Dan spits onto his hand and reaches between them.
It’s difficult to see exactly what’s happening, with the bulk of Dan plastered against Dick’s back, but Bruce can imagine. Dick jerks. Grunts. Then goes still and silent again.
It’s not an easy quiet. And it’s filled with organic noises: the soft slick of flesh on flesh, Dan’s heavy breathing, the thud of Bruce’s pulse in his head.
“Christ,” Dan grunts. His arm works as he violates Dick. He shuffles closer, forcing Dick further forward over his knees. “You couldn’t find a cunt this tight.”
Bruce shuts his eyes and swallows hard against the sick lump in his throat.
“C’mon,” Dan murmurs. “C’mon.”
Against his will, Bruce’s eyes flash open. Dan has removed his fingers from the nebulous space that Bruce is refusing to think about too deeply. He’s gripping Dick’s hips so tight that Bruce can see the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. He’s pressing their hips together.
“No,” Bruce moans, pointlessly, uselessly.
Dick makes an awful choked sound. His body spasms as he automatically tries to push himself away. One cheek scrapes against the concrete. His eyes are shut, his mouth open in a pained grimace. Bruce watches his jaw work as he grits his teeth.
Dan shifts behind him, settling more stably on his knees. His fingers flex around Dick’s hips. He leans closer over him, pressing his forehead into Dick’s spine.
His hips roll. Dick yells through his teeth. The air scrapes back into him on a ragged inhale, before rushing out again as Dan jerks his hips in a sharp thrust.
Bruce stares. His eyes sting. An odd, dizzy numbness seeps through his head. It feels a little like his brain itself is shrinking. Like air is rushing in to fill the gaps, bulging out the bottom of his skull and compressing his spine. Filling his chest until his lungs are squashed flat and Bruce can’t suck in enough air to reinflate them.
Distantly, he’s aware that he’s dissociating. That he’s having a shock response to watching this violent attack on his son. But thoughts feel slippery and intangible.
“Tight little bitch,” the alpha says, sounding like he’s speaking somewhere underwater. “You fucking love this don’t you? Fucking begging to take my cock.” The wet slap of skin is a low counterpoint to the words. “God, you smell so good. Went into heat just for me, huh? For my cock.”
Bruce’s eyes catch on Jason’s. The omega’s face is white. His eyes are wide and wet. There’s stark horror painted across his features. Bruce can see his body moving, twisting beneath the rope.
“You wanna fuck his mouth?”
It feels like Bruce is moving in slow motion. His gaze snags and drags across the width of the room as he glances at the second alpha.
“Don’t,” he croaks, weakly.
“Nah,” the alpha says, sounding nervous. “I’m good.”
“Your loss. Jesus, I’m gonna pop my knot.”
The whimper Dick lets out is hardly more than a breath, but it thunders in Bruce’s ears. Jason moves more violently, then, thrashing against his restraints.
“No don’t - don’t knot him. Please, you can knot me. Please.”
If Dan hears him, he gives no sign of it. His thrusts quicken, his hips jerking roughly against Dick. He groans low and loud. Dick makes a high, hurting sound.
Jason writhes in his bonds. His body contorts grotesquely and Bruce thinks he hears a soft pop. Then, suddenly, Jason is up on his feet, barrelling across the room towards the alpha crushing Dick into the floor.
There’s a confusing tangle of limbs. Someone shouts. Jason growls so furiously Bruce has to fight his instinctive shudder. The omega lunges across the two alphas, before sinking his teeth into the back of Dan’s neck.
Dan howls. His body jerks, then goes limp, slumping heavily across Dick’s back. The second alpha starts forward. The air is thick with sudden aggression.
Jason springs to his feet again and takes the second alpha down in one brutal move. Without wasting a second, he turns back to Dan, grips the back of his neck and yanks him up.
Dick jerks with the movement. The noise he makes spears right through Bruce, a violent, tearing agony.
“Nightwing,” Bruce gasps, throwing himself against his own chains.
“You fucking asshole,” Jason snarls. He slams a heavy fist into the limp alpha’s face. Bruce hears something crack. “You fucking -“
He devolves into wordless growling. He hits the alpha again. Blood sprays through the air, splattering over Dick’s naked back and Jason’s knuckles. The alpha jerks helplessly and Dick makes another wounded sound.
“Jason,” Bruce barks. There’s something sharp and ugly in his throat. “Stop. He’s tied. They’re tied.”
Jason goes still. For a suspended moment, he stands frozen, one hand still gripped tight around the back of Dan’s neck, the other raised in a trembling fist. He stares wild-eyed at where Dick is lying beneath him. At the way they’re still connected, Dan’s hips pressed flush to Dick’s.
He makes an odd, aborted movement. A sort of spasm. Then, with more gentleness than Bruce expects, he lowers the limp alpha to the ground, carefully arranging him so he’s barely touching Dick.
Dick stirs weakly. Jason takes a sharp breath, then circles around to crouch at his brother’s head. With trembling hands he reaches out and gently cups Dick’s face.
“Christ, Dickie,” he breathes. “God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Bruce can’t see Dick’s face from this angle. If he replies in some way, he can’t hear it either. But Jason must see some sort of cue, or maybe he’s just reacting to Dick’s non-reaction because he fumbles at Dick’s ear, gently removing his comm.
He fits it into his own ear.
“Robin?” he says, sounding more hesitant than Bruce has heard him in a very long time. “We’ve got a situation.”