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damian wants to lick his dad's wounds

Summary:

damian asks jon a question about something and it reminds damian of some memory with his father and brother. idfk i wrote this half asleep

Notes:

hi gang this is my first fic like this so bare with me. lmk if you want more.

Work Text:

Damian always wondered about why Grayson and Father were so touchy-feely. Especially when one of them got injured or was close to death. Grayson would hug onto Father like there was no tomorrow. Damian never understood that but it tickled and prodded at a certain itch in his heart as much as he tried to deny it. Damian recalled back to a time where he swore Grayson and Father did something questionable. Their flushed faces and Father’s not so subtle hard-on an easy observation. Damian felt an unfamiliar feeling of envy bubbling up. burning his throat like acid.
“Dami? Are you paying any attention to me at all?” Jon’s still high pitched voice pierced through Damian’s thoughts.
“Tt. I have better things to think about.” Damian replied, keeping his arms crossed.
His catlike green eyes slid across his surroundings, assessing for anything unusual. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Even though he had been living at Wayne Manor for a few years now, his room was still bare and undecorated. He still didn’t understand the reasoning behind decorating. He understood storage at least. Grayson never let him live it down that he had hung up the stupid, idiotic animal poster he had gotten him for his birthday.
Jon let out a huff, “You’re so mean. Why do I even bother to come over?”
Damian shrugged, his eyes flicking up to Jon’s face. He still had a baby face and a sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks.
“Jon. I have an important inquiry.”
“What is it, Dami?” Jon perked up almost immediately.
Damian shifted uncomfortably, debating if he should be honest or not.
“Have you ever wanted to lick your dad’s wounds clean?” Damian blurted out, a million thoughts rushing through his head.

**********

“Damian. Come here.” Bruce commanded gruffly, spreading his legs in the Batchair he was sitting in.
Damian perked up, to his dismay, and stopped organizing his weapons, “Yes, Father?”
Bruce gestured to a particularly bad slash on his pale torso, “I said come here.”
Damian got up and walked over, familiar with the routine. “I was in the middle of something.”
He knelt down in front of Bruce, his face coming dangerously close to the open wound.
“Clean it for me.” Bruce grunted, glancing away to read over a file.
Damian didn’t move. He knew the rage of seeing his Father paying more attention to a stupid piece of paper was irrational but he didn’t care. Damian watched a trickle of blood slide down Father’s scarred side.
A second passed of just them breathing in sync. Like father, like son.
“I want your full attention.” Damian said, trying not to let a whine or a question mark slip into his tone.
Bruce sighed, setting the file down, “Fine.”
He looked down, his cowl off, revealing his matted, black hair and softening expression. His blue eyes met Damian’s green ones.
“I’m watching.” Bruce said softly.
At those words, Damian stuck his tongue out and licked up the drip of blood that was sliding down Bruce’s side. His skin was hot and feverish, the wound trying to heal as quick as possible.
Bruce couldn’t help but shiver at his son’s action. Damian scooted closer before slipping his tongue into the deep wound. Damian let out a little whimper at the taste of his Father’s blood pricking his taste buds.
Bruce grunted, his big hand coming to rest on Damian’s soft head of hair. Damian lapped at the blood, the taste making him dizzy.
Suddenly, Bruce tilted his son’s chin up, gazing down at him. Damian’s plush lips were smeared with blood. Bruce watched as Damian automatically opened his mouth for Bruce, letting him sneak in his thumb.
“You’re much better than your mother.” Bruce murmured lovingly.
Damian hated the pride that coursed through his veins at the praise. He had finally beaten Mother at something.
Suddenly, Bruce kicked Damian under his desk like a misbehaved kitten.
“Dick. What do you need?” Bruce said, lowering his voice and positioning his body to hide Damian under the desk.
“Hiya B! I just wanted to say hi. ‘S been a long night.” Dick greeted Bruce, brushing a kiss onto his sharp jaw.
Dick noticed the bleeding wound and immediately turned into a mother hen, “Jesus, B, this looks bad. Let me clean it up.”
Bruce opened his mouth before closing it, glancing down at Damian. He was clearly pouting and angry at being discarded so easily. But Damian stayed down. Bruce cleared his throat, “I can get it.”
“Nonsene. You’ve done enough, babe.” Dick hummed, gathering up some supplies to treat Bruce’s wound.
Bruce let Dick have his fun, blabbering on about something. Damian watched as Dick’s palm crept down to Bruce’s crotch.
“Babe, B, my sweet, did you really think I wouldn’t notice lil’ Dami down there?” Dick teased, crouching down.
Damian’s eyes widened and his face flushed in shame.
“I’m helping him.” Bruce said sharply.
Dick rolled his eyes, “C’mere, Dami. Let me show you the ropes to ol’ Brucie’s heart.”
Damian hesitated, looking up at his big brother and dad. Their beckoning expressions and familiar presences made his guard go down.
With that, Damian got up, accepting his fate.