Bruce first met Slade Wilson, the owner and CEO of the company providing personal security services for him and his family, at 8 years old, years before his first heat.
Growing up, Bruce didn’t think much about him. He saw Mr. Wilson several times a year, meeting him with his parents, discussing measures on their protection, renewing their contract. Bruce hadn’t known anybody else handling their protection. To him, as a child, Mr. Wilson was there to keep them safe, and that was it. Bruce’s father told him he had the best security agency around, and that he would personally manage the people who protect them should they require protection.
According to his father, Mr. Wilson left the army and decided to put his acquired skills to use by first working as a bodyguard for another agency, then went to open his own. Bruce couldn’t evaluate just how good Mr. Wilson’s men were since he hadn’t been in a situation where he had to be whisked away to safety. His guards had never had to implement force before.
It was the year before his first heat, at fifteen, that he’d started paying attention to what Mr. Wilson looked like. He was tall with broad shoulders, attractive, had snow white hair, and an intimidating eyepatch that covered his blind eye. Nobody knew why his right eye was blinded, not even the guards who looked after him. Bruce never saw him out of his suit, a charcoal suit with a pin on his gray tie—a pin shaped like a mask, half of it black with no eye, and the other side orange with an eye. It was the logo for the agency, SLADE SECURITY.
When he was eighteen, two years after his first heat, he and his parents met Mr. Wilson at the Gotham City Royal Hotel, a day before a private flight to France. The hotel was heavily guarded as usual. On the floor they were staying in, a guard is stationed at every corner.
He was excited to meet Mr. Wilson, but Thomas told him to stay in his room. This disappointed him. He’d been excited to meet him again ever since his parents set the meeting with him a few weeks ago. He was unsure if it was about him reaching his sexual maturity, or if they were discussing something that he shouldn’t hear.
He stayed in his room and sulked until Alfred came to fetch him.
“Good morning, Bruce,” Mr. Wilson greeted him.
“Bruce,” his mother smiled, ushering him towards the alpha. “Mr. Wilson will teach you self-defense when we return. We were just discussing his plans for you when we get back,”
“I’m looking forward to get to know you, Bruce,” Mr. Wilson smiled.
Bruce couldn’t help but smile back. And it wasn’t because he was excited about the lessons.
By the time he learned to defend himself, it wasn’t just about self-defense anymore. The lessons grew more and more intense, less about defense and more about offense. By the time Bruce was twenty-three years old, five years after his first lesson with Mr. Wilson, he was confident enough he could take on five people and emerge from the skirmish unscathed.
Slade didn’t expect Bruce to be the aggressive kind, and he wasn’t referring to his offense. Of course, Bruce would have to have all of Mr. Wilson’s years of experience before he can even pin him down, but he did, just two days shy of turning twenty-four.
He should not have thoughts of desire for a child.
In the privacy of Slade’s gym in the main office of Slade Security in Gotham, the owner himself found himself distracted by his pupil’s body and pinned down on the mat a few moments later.
Bruce smirked, proud of his victory, panting above his teacher.
“Impressive, Bruce,” Slade said a few seconds later, trying to clear his head.
“I can’t say the same about you, Mr. Wilson,” replied Bruce cheekily.
“And why is that?” the alpha raised a brow.
“But then that means I’m also saying something about myself. I’ve been trying to get you to look at me the way you looked at me just now for years. I guess I’m not as good as I think I was in seduction,”
“Seduction?” Slade repeated. Granted, he’d never thought of Bruce as anything more than a child to protect, even until after he turned eighteen. And blockers did their job, preventing any assault should Slade suddenly lose control.
“I might have succeeded, maybe just a little bit,” Bruce stayed on top of the older alpha.
“And what makes you think your parents haven’t already planned to pair you off with some alpha prince already?” Slade tried not to sound sexist or bitter.
“If they had been disgustingly traditional, they would never have had me start these classes with you, would they? And if they had arranged a marriage for me, then by now I’d be leaking milk and bursting at the seams with my second or third child, would I not?”
“Wouldn’t you rather be a princess instead?”
“Please,” Bruce scoffed. “I’m a princess enough already. I don’t need people bowing before me. Way too extra,” but then he grinned. “Though Prince Harry might not be a bad idea,” he got off Slade, and made his way over to the bench to take a swig of Gatorade and check his messages.
“Prince Harry?” Slade sat up on the mat.
“Mhmm,” Bruce hummed and shoved the bottle into his gym bag together with his phone before slinging it over his shoulder. “Thank you for today. If you don’t mind, I’ll have a quick shower before I leave. I’ve got the chauffer waiting,”
Slade watched him leave. Bruce no longer had the soft features of a child. His shoulders had slightly broadened, gained lean muscle through his training, grown a few inches—and Slade remembered attending his graduation a year back. He was sure Bruce already held a position at his father’s company. When had Bruce become a young adult?
When had Bruce become an attractive young adult?
Maybe Bruce had always been attractive, but when did Slade start finding his student attractive? Was any of this even ethical?
He didn’t have time to think of an answer to that question, because Slade found himself in the omega locker rooms, where Bruce was standing by his locker, his back to Slade, naked and dripping wet from the quick rinse in the shower.
“I thought alphas weren’t allowed in here?” said Bruce, reading into his locker to grab a towel.
The minx was tempting him, and Slade was embarrassed to say that it was working. “They aren’t,”
Bruce didn’t turn to him and started to dry his hair. “Then what are you doing in here, Mr. Wilson?”
“Making sure I’m receiving the right signals,” answered the teacher. “And that you’re really asking for what you’re asking for,” he took a few tentative steps closer.
“And what am I asking for?”
This little shit. The alpha in him was scratching under his kin, and he was barely in control, resisting the urge to just slam the omega down onto a bench. “A nice time? Once or twice? Maybe more than that?”
Bruce hummed, threw the wet towel over on the bench nearby. “Why don’t you find out?”
Slade let his instincts take him to what he’d been dying to taste. He grabbed onto Bruce’s shoulders, turned him around and sucked on his neck, trying his best to refrain from biting at the supple skin. He sat on the bench, settled Bruce in between his legs, and reached in between Bruce’s thick thighs to press the tip of a finger into the wet slit.
Bruce gasped, feeling the alpha’s dick engorging between his plump ass cheeks. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to have that thing in. He held Slade’s hand with his and guided the thick, calloused middle finger into the wetness. “Fuck,” he breathed. “C’mon, move it, make it drip,”
“You have a filthy mouth on you,” commented Slade, kissing on his shoulder.
“The driver is waiting,” said Bruce impatiently, and his pushiness earns him a curled finger that pressed all his buttons, making him groan, and his cock twitch.
Slade hated admitting how he loved how easy it was to manhandle omegas of Bruce’s size. Loved how Bruce’s skin showed how pampered he was. Soft, smooth, and supple all over, not a blemish in sight.
“Aren’t we letting him wait anyway?” the alpha mumbled into the skin of Bruce’s neck.
“No, we’re not,” Bruce ground down on those fingers. “Get it in, please?” he lifted a hand to grab onto grab a handful of silvery strands at the back of Slade’s head.
“Impatient?” Slade withdrew his fingers to use both hands to lift Bruce just a little bit higher so he sat on his cock, wet cunt on top of it, slathering it with slick.
“Mmmm, no,” Bruce slid up and down the engorged shaft. “Getting late,”
Bruce was used to getting what he wanted. Slade almost didn’t want to give it to him. Bruce was one of the most interesting omegas he’d ever met. Not verbally or physically aggressive but also not shy, but also knew how to get what he wanted. Patient and calculating. Never pretentious or ostentatious. Nor did he purposely do anything that sought attention from the people of Gotham, though he was pretty well known and a celebrity in his own right.
“And I don’t want to be late, Mr. Wilson,” Bruce brushed away Slade’s hand from between his thighs. “I have a fitting to go to and I’d want to get out of that fitting room as soon as I get in,” he took a hold of Slade’s cock, and pushed it in. “Oh, yes,”
Slade hissed. It’d been too long since he’d had an omega like this. “You feel amazing,” he ran a hand over Bruce’s stomach and chest, while the other held Bruce’s hip down.
“I would feel the same way about you, but are you really going to have me fuck myself?”
Slade almost forgot the use of his hands. He held onto Bruce’s hips tightly, lifted him up slightly, and slammed the young omega back down.
Bruce laid his head on Slade’s shoulder, pulling on Slade’s hair. “Yes, yes! Just like that—harder!”
It was like he wanted to purposely bruise those creamy thighs. Leave a mark for Bruce to remember. Bruce should be more careful with his neck. He pressed his lips against Bruce’s pulse, sucking and nipping. “Would you still prefer Prince Harry?”
“Harry can’t fuck me in public, can he?” Bruce replied cheekily. “Now stop talking and fuck me?”
Slade let out a half grunt and growl, manhandling Bruce onto the bench to push him down. He wasn’t sure if this spoiled brat could handle not getting what he wanted. “Open wide, Bruce,”
Bruce tried his best to keep balance as Slade pushed him onto his back on the bench. He hooked his hands under his legs, lifting them, making it easier for Slade to slide and continue. “Yes, yes, just like that!”
Slade pressed his hands down on Bruce’s thighs, as if pinning him down harder would add any more force to how relentless he was in fucking the body underneath him. He snapped his hips back in harder, fucking deeper, barely slipping out and slamming back in again. Someone could be watching and Slade didn’t even care, and he was sure Bruce was loving the idea of getting caught.
“Harder, harder, harder—I’m close, please, oh my God,”
Slade smirked. Gone was the cheeky omega. He leaned forward, unhooking Bruce’s arms from his legs, and replacing it with his own arms. “You like this, Bruce?”
“Of course, I fucking like it!” Bruce hissed. Guess Slade was wrong. Bruce was too smart to let himself be reduced to some primitive, instinctive begging for sexual release. “Who the fuck wouldn’t like—oh fuck, that’s your knot, fuck,” he could feel Slade’s knot swelling as he clawed on Slade’s shoulders. “Don’t you dare!” he tried to give Slade a glare, nose flaring as he took even breaths, attempting to keep his climbing orgasm back but failing.
“Whatever you say,” Slade gave a particularly loud and guttural grunt, finding it difficult to refrain from forcing the fully formed knot into Bruce as he came.
“Hnnggh!” Bruce went somewhat rigid as Slade fucked him through his orgasm, nails digging into Slade’s shoulders, cunt clenching down on Slade and cock spurting ropes of come onto his stomach.
Slade pulled out and watched the come flow from Bruce’s pinkish-red, pulsating cunt. For some reason he found himself oddly proud.
Bruce laid limp and panting on the bench, staring at the ceiling, and Slade gently set his legs down before taking a seat himself. They spent a few moments catching their breath, then Bruce speaks.
“You couldn’t be bothered to walk faster so you could fuck me before I took a shower?”
For a second Slade was caught off guard, then laughed. “You really are something else,” he said as he watched Bruce get off the bench and make his way back to the showers.
“Wouldn’t do to be something you already had, would it?” Bruce winked at him before shutting the frosted glass door closed.
Slade thought he might be too old for this kind of fun. Then again, maybe not.