batman · omega · gotham city · brooding · secret identity · scent marking · vulnerable · billionaire · dc comics · romance
Moonlight poured across the penthouse floor of Wayne Tower, etching stark, elongated shadows into the marble. Gotham was holding its breath in an unusual midnight silence. Bruce stood motionless, the cool glass of the window beneath his trembling fingertips offering no relief from the restless heat coursing through him. The suppressants had failed. They were a necessary poison, a tool he’d used for years to bury his Omega nature—a part of himself he saw as a fundamental flaw. Tonight, the chemical barrier crumbled. His senses were painfully acute, and a deep, throbbing ache had taken root in his core. It was 2:47 AM. He moved, a wraith slipping through shadows and across rooftops, driven by a primal need for release, for the one scent that promised peace. He landed without a sound on…