Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/654757.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      Gen, Multi
  Fandom:
      Batman_(Comics)
  Relationship:
      Damian_Wayne/Dick_Grayson, Bruce_Wayne/Talia_al_Ghul
  Character:
      Damian_Wayne, Dick_Grayson, Bruce_Wayne, Talia_al_Ghul
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-01-25 Words: 1726
****** And He Will Be A God ******
by Tvieandli
Summary
     Talia is a Demon, Bruce is a paranormal expert. Damian was her idea.
Notes
     This may end up having more installments, it’s kind of just an idea
     I’m playing around with right now.
There's a curling purr in his ear. Something that winds around him, an arm that
sinches tight over his chest, pulling his back flush to a warm chest. She takes
a deep breath, and it sucks the air out of the room, pulling a tickling
coldness up along his neck.
"Won't you come back to bed?"
He turns his head to the side slightly, catching the amber color of her eyes,
seeing it swirl inside her with molten liquidity.
"No, Talia."
Her eyebrows pull down suddenly, a lip curling in anger.
"Why do you scorn me, beloved?" she asks, pushing away from him, and stalking
along the peripherals of his vision. "What have I done to deserve this?" a
shadow lashes out behind her, rattling against a lamp as she passes by it.
"It's not what you've done, Talia. It's what you are."
She almost screams. A grating, inhuman sound, that comes bubbling up her throat
and passed her lips as she moves with savage grace toward him, hands reaching
out for his face. She practically climbs his body, long nails hooking behind
his ears like talons.
He stands rigid. Still like stone, looking unfazed into her eyes, as her mouth
opens to reveal, long, sharp teeth.
"Because of this lover? You hate me for something I cannot control? You who
preaches love, and forgiveness in the face of all things? Is that not what you
mean when you state your doctrine of not killing, and let go those who promise
reform?"
He closes his eyes. The sigh that rips from his chest is heavy as he leans his
head forward onto her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"You'll never understand, Talia. There's no way I could possibly explain it."
"You would really bring our child into this world, and teach him this hate?"
she asks softly, words trickling through his hair.
"There is no child."
"There will be, beloved, and he will be just as beloved as you. The Messiah. A
being between our two breeds. He will lead us to new greatness, and march
across this land, a new Alexander."
"No, Talia."
"Yes, Beloved. Yes."
One of her hands cups beneath his chin, pulling his face up so that their eyes
meet.
"Yes," she says again. He's not sure why he doesn't argue. Not sure why he lets
her pull him into a kiss, and rip his clothes from his body. Just like he's not
sure why he got himself into this in the first place. But there's such finality
in her tone that he just wants to give in and let it happen.
"Yes," she whispers, and he feels himself encased in invisible wings as she
pulls him back down into the bed.
"And he will be a God."
 
Bruce never expected the boy to have his eyes. Never expected him to look so
human. Like Talia he had thought he would look just this side of unnatural,
have a strangeness in his bones that could be sensed, and a savagery in his
body that spoke volumes. But Damian looked human.
He looked so very normal, peering out at him from behind Dick with vacant, blue
eyes. His eyes.
Damian didn't smile. He didn't look happy. He looked as if he felt he were
being intruded upon, and as his head turned, Bruce caught the traces of
supernatural features, saw what was happening. Damian was latching. Just the
way Talia had latched onto him, Damian was latching onto Dick.
A tiny hand with pointed nails tapped at Dick's wrist, and without a thought
Dick wrapped the child in his arm. Something in Bruce's chest spasmed at the
thought of Dick being so close to that creature. There was a need to save the
young man from his own ignorance, but when he started forward, Damian's lips
curled up to show vicious little teeth.
Bruce's movement stuttered to a standstill. Dick had been marked. There was
nothing to do about it.
Damian regarded him for another moment before looking away, back toward the
computer screen Dick was looking at. Softly, over the din of the mechanisms of
the room, Bruce made out careful speech. Dick's voice pitched low, as he
chatted on about something or other.
Damian cast his brother a heated gaze, blue eyes burning golden for a second,
and suddenly Bruce as moving forward again. He placed a hand on Dick's
shoulder, steering him away from the child, ignoring the silent threats that
were screamed at him for touching the creature's potential mate.
"I need you to take some distance from him," Bruce said in a hushed tone as
Dick swiveled in his grip to look back at the child. Damian sat on the floor
looking tiny, and dejected, subtly clawed hands resting in his lap as he
watched them curiously.
"Why?" Dick asked. He was frowning, upset by the fact that Damian was upset. It
had gone too far. He left for a year to do business underground with Talia's
folk, and he came back to find his first son already bound to his last.
"Because-"
But Dick cut him off. "Because of what he is? Come on, Bruce, he can't help
that. He's just a kid. All he needs is acceptance, and love."
Bruce bit his tongue, glancing back over to the boy, watching blue eyes flash
amber.
"You need to relax, Bruce," Dick said. He shook his head, and dutifully
returned to Damian's side. Bruce noted the way that Damian leapt for touch,
while still seeming to shun it. As if it were something he was not used to
being allowed, a commodity often kept from him.
Damian's tiny fingers wound into Dick's belt loop, holding tight, claiming him.
"This is mine, father," Damian said with his body. "I own this."
 
The half dark rippled gently, Damian's small body twisting against the sheets,
and Dick's skin, making it blister, and itch where they touched. It was
strange. Sometimes Dick felt like he was engaging in some interspecies courting
ritual he didn't understand, but allowed to happen anyway.
Damian hissed against his neck, tiny claws digging into the skin of his
shoulders as he breathed deep. It made Dick feel like some lavish dish at a
fancy restaurant, strange and unnatural, laid out fro Damian's consumption.
The tiny body shivered in his arms, and Damian's throat worked around a whine
that came out hoarse, and odd against Dick's ear.
"You're cold, Grayson," he said, voice echoing in the small space between
Dick's throat, and the pillow.
Dick grunted, shifting around the boy, arms a cage around the casket of the
creature's chest.
"Like you don't know what to do with me," he continued, lips working so close
to Dick's skin that they were like the tiny feet of centipedes on his flesh,
not right, nearly terrifying. Dick shivered, and a small hand landed on the
back of his neck, fingers in his hair. "Like you're suddenly afraid." And then
those lips were kissing. Pressed up against his adam's apple, parting to make
way for a tiny tongue.
His breath stopped. Suddenly holed up in the depths of his lungs and refusing
to be pushed out.
"What troubles, beloved?" Damian asked. His body surged, pressing closer. Tiny,
and over warm to Dick's cool flesh.
"I-" Dick started, but a claw pressed into his lips.
"Do you not want this?" Damian asked. There was something in those words.
Something that Made Dick's mind flounder. What was this? What would he be
wanting if he said "it's not that" like he knew he should to comfort the child.
"I-" He started, and Damian's brows tugged down, flecks of amber suddenly
becoming apparent in the blue of his iris. Dick wondered when they'd started
doing that. Had they always done that? How had he missed something so
quintessential to Damian as his eyes drastically changing color when he was
annoyed?
"You?" the boy prompted.
"I don't know."
"There's nothing to know," Damian said, slinging a leg up over Dick, and
sliding so that he was sitting astride the man's hips. Something warm and
fleshy wrapped around one of Dick's legs. A tail, he thought, Damian has a
tail. He balked momentarily at the idea of it. Another thing he'd missed. How
had he missed?
Damian made a sound deep in his throat as he lowered their pelvises together.
High, and whining, and near inhuman. That's when Dick noticed that Damian's
cock was hard. Achingly so, leaking slightly onto his abdominal muscles.
"Oh," he said, trying to catch his body up with his brain, and put a stop to
this, but he was frozen in place. Like he was too sluggish to do anything about
it all. As if he'd gained too much momentum as he plummeted towards the edge of
a cliff to stop now.
Damian rocked his hips lightly, smearing the precum on Dick's skin. "Do you not
want this Grayson?" he asked, voice breathy. His lips revealed sharp little
teeth whenever they tugged up around words. How had Dick missed all these
little demonic indicators? How?
"Do you?" Damian insisted, and Dick opened his mouth to say "No. Stop," but
Damian was rocking, and he was responding, and those little sounds the boy was
making were infuriating. Instead of saying anything, Dick gasped, and thrust
upwards into the motion, making Damian growl.
It was all the confirmation that the boy really needed. Damian was leaning
forward, tongue like fire on Dick's throat. His little, clawed hands curled
over the round of Dick's shoulders, and the tiny growl that hummed against
Dick's ear was possessive.
"Fuck," he hissed, and Damian writhed against him. The tail curled around his
leg synched tighter. "Damian-" he tried in protest, but the growl just got
louder, nearly a purr, as Damian's tongue laved down over his collar bone.
His hand came up to try to push at the boy's hip, but it just rocked the tiny
pelvis harder against his own, shorting out synapses in his mind.
"Grayson," Damian said. His voice was soft, and almost snake like as the boy
sat up, the blankets thrown from his shoulders. Dick couldn't see them, but
somehow his mind provided the thought of wings. "Fuck me."
There wasn't much else to do at that point, but comply.
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