beta!reader x alpha!dick grayson. suggestive. a brain fart tbh. I love men being down bad for their partner, wc: 500
Dick can’t help it. It’s in his nature to mark your skin, to lock on that spot where your scent glands should be.
“Dick-” You sigh, tiny hands grabbing his shoulders, fingers helplessly digging through the thin sky blue shirt the man is wearing. “You can’t- not possible-” You mumble to deaf ears, as Dick’s sore, plump lips brush on your offended skin.
Your secondary gender doesn’t matter when blood courses through Dick's veins, scorching everything in its wake, screaming at him for not making you his. Your faint scent is still present, no matter how far his teeth dig into your soft skin.
The nice man, who always tries to treat you with utmost respect and kindness, beaten and brushed under the rug, as Dick manhandles you on his lap, thick fingers digging so harshly that your clothes offer no protection against his raw strength, feeling his fingertips against your ribs; a prey pinned beneath the predator.
A strangled gasp leaves your lips, neck arching when his teeth sink again near your pulse, merciless, starved.
“Ah- Dick-” Gasps teared one by one from your sore throat, with no chance to escape, as his hold on your body doesn’t falter, keeping you grounded on his toned body. Dick’s thick tongue laps on your pulse, where an ugly wound is already showing itself, as if to sugarcoat the pain.
“I’m a beta!” Your hands leave his shoulder to grip his short ebony strands, tugging with no finesse, hoping to catch his attention, but being rewarded with broken skin.
His dark eyes, blue irises long obscured by dilated pupils, don’t even look at you, stuck on that patch of skin where a droplet of blood is rolling down towards the hollow at the base of your neck. Dick’s breath gets heavier, and only then, when the droplet gets absorbed into the fabric of your clothes, does he look back at you.
Eyes wild, wide, sweat rolling down Dick’s forehead, tongue wetting his plump lips that for some reason he feels so dry, just like his mouth every time it leaves your body.
“I need to mark you-” Dick begs in a hoarse breath, the grip that was so possessive to hurt, now gentler, caressing down your waist, hands trembling with barely contained restraint, reassuring you with the little self-control he has left. “I need to smell my scent all over your body.” His hands lower to your back, groping shamelessly before pushing you even closer to his feverish body. The man begs, dramatic as theatrical as only Dick can be, nose nuzzling your skin, mouth on your skin, kissing the bruises blooming down your neck.
“Please-” And it would take a saint not to give in to this temptation, at the adrenaline rushing up and down your spine at the sight of a handsome alpha, yours, begging to mark a simple, normal, beta like you are.
“I’ll stop the moment you order it.” False, you’d reply, but you don’t have the heart to say it, as the desperation and bliss on his face made you everything but rational.
“Fine-” Dick’s eyes widen, all flushed cheeks and sweat, “But the moment I say red, you stop.”
The power he granted over his action was far more satisfying than any pain his teeth could ever inflict.