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Dick would like to say that he got himself captured on purpose, but that would be a lie. In fact, he got careless and walked straight into Black Mask’s trap. The smell of a distressed omega was too much for his alpha instincts to ignore, and Dick believed only moments ago that he was walking into danger for a perfectly justified reason - to save a helpless omega somehow kidnapped and trapped within the Big Bad’s liar.
And now, kneeling with his hands handcuffed behind his back and a familiar face sitting on a soft armchair with long legs crossed, needle heel clinking as it swung with boredom under layers of reddish-black see-through nylon and lace, and a single cigarette held in gloved fingers, Dick wasn’t so sure about his previous assumptions anymore.
What’s more, the face belonged to someone he knew. Someone who’s supposed to be dead.
“Hiya, pretty bird,” the omega said, taking a drag from his cigarette with rouged lips before grabbing onto Dick’s hair to pull him facing upwards. His breasts were barely covered by the black laced frills atop the tight bodice (that was very shape-forming and smoking hot, mind you), hair decked in rubies that perfectly complimented his green eyes, and his decorative earrings swung noisily with each movement of his head. His fresh but sweet omega scents were overpowering to the point of making Dick feel woozy.
Jason was barely presented when he died. Dick had no plan on how to handle a situation like this. He had so many questions.
“I bet you have a lot of questions,” Jason said, as if he could read Dick’s thoughts, “let me begin by telling you a little about this guy they call Red Hood whom you Bats have been chasing for the past few weeks...”