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Dick didn’t remember much of the heat. Didn’t even know who it was that had gotten the drop on him and administered the inducers.
Didn’t remember being stripped of his suit so that Bruce could take him to the ER when he’d realized how deadly the concoction of drugs were.
Didn’t remember the doctors or the injections or the way he’d keened desperately for anything to sate the awful, lethal heat beneath his skin.
His memories of the event were spotty at best.
He did remember the bite. Remembered the flare of panic that cut through the mindless desperation when he realized that he felt breath across his mating gland. He remembered fighting, snarling and snapping and trying to claw at his attacker but his wrists were strapped to the bed rails and he couldn’t get out of the fabric cuffs in time to keep broad alpha fangs from sinking into his neck.
He hadn’t registered who it had been that had bitten him.
Not until after he’d been discharged to ride out the rest of his heat with his new alpha.
Not until he was being pressed down into his own nest at the manor, surrounded by the scent of pack but it smelled wrong and there was Bruce looming over him and–
Well. Even as addled as he had been, Dick could piece together the pieces of what had happened.
It was after the heat that Bruce explained it to him.
That he’d been dangerously close to heart failure. That the fever could have cooked his brain. That the only way to keep his desperate body from destroying itself was to give it what it wanted.
A mating bite and as many knots as he could handle.
Dick wasn’t sure how he felt about it being Bruce who had done it. He wasn’t sure who else he would have chosen. But that was the key word: chosen.
Dick had had no input on the happenings.
Still, he could forgive Bruce for saving his life. Of course he would forgive him for that.
What he couldn’t understand was what had happened after his heat had ended. After Bruce had explained what had happened and how, as Dick’s pack alpha, he’d had the right to make executive decisions on who his ward mated, even without Dick’s consent.
That reminder had stung, sure, but Dick hadn’t expected Bruce to nosedive from the progressive, omega’s rights supporting alpha that he usually was, into this traditionalist that invoked archaic laws to pull Dick out of school and keep him at home.
Hadn’t expected him to lock Dick in the master bedroom and refuse to let him leave the nest except to bathe and go to the bathroom.
Dick had fought, had tried escaping, had yelled and screamed and bargained and pleaded and cried– but Bruce could not be swayed.
The cuff stayed around Dick’s wrist, the chain attaching him to the sturdy headboard.
The bite collar he was used to wearing was long gone, leaving his throat feeling vulnerable and unprotected. It was a minor discomfort in the grand scheme of things, and Dick was already quite thoroughly bitten by that point, but for some reason it was one of the things that bothered Dick the most.
He’d been wearing collars since he’d presented, and they were especially important while he was out as Robin, and then the doctors had cut his collar off of him to let Bruce mark him.
It was just another reminder of how little choice he’d had over the changes in his life.
Bruce didn’t hurt him. He made sure that Dick was fed and watered and had the most extravagant items for his nest, and even when Dick fought him Bruce only fought to subdue him, barely even leaving bruises on Dick’s skin.
Dick’s struggles grew weaker the longer the captivity went on for, unable to train the way he was used to and slowly losing his hard-earned muscle mass.
Almost worse was the pleasure Bruce brought him. He never asked first, just pinned Dick down and said honeyed words while he used the sway his alpha dominance had over Dick’s omega instincts to keep him mostly docile while Bruce ravished him.
He would bring Dick to orgasm over and over again before he ever slipped his cock inside him, always ensuring that he was stretched enough for there to be no pain. Only cursed pleasure.
Even the knots didn’t hurt, just an aching fullness that made Dick’s body light up with forced pleasure, something that Bruce would always take advantage of to bring him to orgasm a few more times before finally letting Dick rest.
Dick hated the way that his body melted under Bruce’s touch, relaxing when he smelled his alpha, no matter how angry Dick had worked himself up to be.
Bruce just had to scent him or wrap his hand around Dick’s nape and Dick’s body would fall into that relaxed state, dazed and docile for whatever Bruce wanted to do with him.
Dick hated it.
He knew that Bruce was drugging his food to further enforce his compliance, but there was nothing that Dick could do about it.
Dick didn’t remember the last time he’d been allowed outside. Didn’t have a way to keep track of the days as they passed him by.
All he knew was when Bruce was there and when he was not. The sedatives didn’t help, preventing him from enacting escape plans while Bruce was away, and Dick was hardly a match for Bruce while he was present. Not anymore.
Bruce kept talking about pupping him. Sighing dreamily about what a good mother Dick would make, knot deep inside of Dick’s body and reminding him viscerally of what the come trapped inside him meant.
Dick checked his flat stomach in the mirror every day, watching the muscles soften over time, waiting for the day that it started to swell.
Considering the ways that he would handle it when it did.
He refused to be Bruce’s little wife. Refused to raise his children.
Dick would kill himself before he allowed any pup in his belly to grow large enough to expel.