Returning home, Dick noticed the faint glow of light spilling from under his bedroom door. His brow furrowed. Lana? Again? He already dealt with her, made sure she understood her place, but if she was back for more, well… She would get what she deserved.
Pushing the door open, he froze.
Not Lana.
Jessica.
Sitting on his bed, her arms crossed, eyes fixed on him like she owned the place. She had ditched her usual sneer for a more guarded expression.
She glanced around, taking in the spotless room. "Didn't know you cleaned up." Her voice lacked the usual bite. "You even shower now?"
His room, once a pit of filth, now smelled faintly of clean sheets, the air no longer thick with the stench of his old habits. No posters, no clutter. It was a different space, and apparently, that hadn't escaped Jessica.
Dick didn't bother answering. He shut the door behind him, the click of the lock sending a clear message. She noticed, her back straightening slightly.
"I came to talk," she continued, eyes narrowing, trying to reclaim her composure. "About Ryan."
His lips twitched. "Ryan?" The loser who pissed himself in front of her, who had failed to land a punch on him. The humiliation was still fresh in her mind—that much was obvious. She hadn't forgotten.
"Yeah," she snapped, but there was a crack in her voice. "What the fuck happened to you? You used to be a joke, and now he's… he's—" Her words faltered, the usual venom in her tone dulling. "Fuck you Dick, I finally found a boyfriend with looks, charisma and aura, and you had to ruin it. I cannot even talk to him anymore, and there is a dance next week."
"Yeah," she snapped, but there was a crack in her voice. "What the fuck happened to you? You used to be a joke, and now he's… he's—" Her words faltered, the usual venom in her tone dulling. "Fuck you, Dick, I finally found a boyfriend with looks, charisma, and aura, and you had to ruin it. I can't even talk to him anymore, and there's a dance next week."
Her frustration hung in the air, sharp and brittle. She glared at him like she was trying to make sense of everything—how the tables had turned so quickly, how he had gone from the family punching bag to the one who dismantled her "perfect" world with a single blow.
Dick crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall, watching her squirm. "So, this is about your image now? Not Ryan himself?"
Jessica flinched, her mouth twisting into a sneer. "Of course, it's about him! But he's... he's so fucking useless now! I can't walk around with someone who—" She stopped, biting her lip, as if saying it out loud was too much. "He pissed himself in front of my house. Do you know how disgusting that was?"
Dick laughed, the entitlement of this girl was unbelievable. Here she was, sitting on his bed, her perfect life crumbling, and all she could think about was a dance. The irony wasn't lost on him. Jessica, the queen bee, was losing her status because her so-called alpha boyfriend couldn't even keep his pants dry in a fight.
"Ryan's not the problem," Dick said, pushing off the wall, his eyes never leaving hers. "You are."
Jessica's face twisted in confusion and anger, her brows knitting together. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
He stepped closer, watching her stiffen as he invaded her space. The bravado in her eyes flickered, just for a moment, before she masked it again. "You're pissed because I took away your pedestal. Ryan's just collateral damage. You don't care about him, Jess. You care about how you look standing next to him."
Her lips parted to argue, but Dick raised a hand, silencing her. "Face it—you've been running on borrowed time. Ryan was your showpiece, your ticket to feeling superior. Now that he's broken, you're just scrambling to find the next thing to make you feel important."
She stood up abruptly, closing the distance between them, her eyes burning with fury. "You think you know me, Dick? You're still that loser from before. The one everyone laughed at. Just because you've been hitting the gym and throwing some punches doesn't mean you've changed anything. You're still nothing."
Dick smirked, leaning in close enough to feel her breath against his face. "You sure about that? Because last I checked, you came here to talk to me, not the other way around."
Her nostrils flared, but she didn't step back. Jessica's lips twitched, her eyes narrowing, but there was something else there too—something softer, like she was waiting for him to make the next move.
"Here's the thing, Jess," Dick murmured, his voice dropping to an almost intimate tone, so close she could feel the heat of his breath. "Ryan's finished. He's not coming back from what happened, and deep down, you already know that."
Jessica's eyes flared with rage and something else, something she was trying hard to hide. Her body language was all tension and defiance, but there was an undeniable crack beneath it. He could see the way her breathing quickened, the way her eyes darted down, unable to hold his gaze.
"The question is, why are you still here?" he continued, his voice smooth, pushing deeper into her mind. "You say I'm still nothing, but you're the one sitting on my bed, trying to figure out where everything went wrong."
Jessica swallowed hard, her lips trembling slightly as she opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She was unraveling in front of him, and she knew it.
"Ryan was just an accessory," Dick pressed, his words sharp but calm, slicing through the layers of her denial. "You never cared about him. You cared about what he gave you—status, security, someone to show off. Now that he's broken, you're lost."
Her chest heaved, anger flickering in her eyes. "Shut up, Dick. You don't know anything about me."
But her words lacked the venom they usually carried, and Dick could sense the shift. He leaned in closer, his hand brushing her hair away from her face with a slow, almost gentle touch. "I know enough, Jess. I know you don't want to admit what you really want."
She flinched, the crack in her armor widening as his fingers trailed down her cheek, lingering just long enough to send a jolt through her body. Jessica's breath hitched, her defiance wavering as her gaze flicked between his eyes and his lips.
"You don't hate me," Dick said softly, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're just pissed that I've become everything you can't control."
Jessica's hands balled into fists, her body trembling with frustration and something else, something she hadn't expected to feel. She tried to pull away, but Dick's hand moved to her waist, holding her in place, firm but not forceful.
"Stop pretending," he whispered, his voice low and commanding. "You came here because you want something. Admit it."
Jessica's breath came out in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling against him. For a moment, she said nothing, just stood there, caught in the heat of the moment, her body betraying her.
Finally, she broke, her voice barely a whisper. "I hate you."
Dick's lips curled into a smirk. "No, you don't." He pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together now, the tension between them palpable. "What you hate is that I'm the one you can't stop thinking about."
Jessica's breath hitched, but her defiance was crumbling, evident in the way her body melted into his touch. She tried to hold onto her borrowed anger, but the intensity of the moment made it impossible. Her eyes flickered with something desperate—confusion, lust, maybe even shame—but she didn't pull away.
"You ruined everything," she muttered, but her voice lacked conviction. The fight in her was fading, replaced by something raw and uncontrollable. Clarification that hit her like a speeding train that maybe, just maybe, her hatred to Dick was not hers to begin with, and the idea started to scare her.
"I didn't ruin anything. You were just living a lie," Dick whispered into her ear, his grip on her waist tightening. He could feel her resistance slipping, her breath coming out in shallow gasps as she leaned into him, her hands brushing against his chest.
Jessica's eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment, there was a spark of vulnerability, something she had buried deep beneath her queen bee exterior. "Shut up," she whispered, but her voice wavered, betraying her.
Dick chuckled darkly, his hand sliding up her side, fingers brushing the edge of her shirt. "You hate how much you want this," he said, his voice low and teasing, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You hate that every time you close your eyes, I'm there, humiliating your little boyfriend, and that image... it makes you so wet."
Jessica shuddered at his words, her lips parting slightly, a breath escaping her she didn't even realize she'd been holding. His fingers teased the bare skin beneath her shirt, trailing up her waist in slow strokes. She didn't pull away—couldn't. The tension in her body was too much to bear, her mind reeling from the closeness, the power shift.
"You want to deny it, but you can't, can you?" Dick's voice was a taunt, his breath hot against her neck. "I bet you think about it every second—how easy it was to break Ryan. How you're next."
Her fingers twitched, clenching and unclenching as she fought to hold onto some semblance of control, but the more he touched her, the more she could feel herself slipping. The defiance was still there, somewhere deep inside, but it was drowning in the heat, in the way his hands knew exactly where to linger, how to pull her strings.
"Fuck you, Dick…" she whispered, but it was weak, barely more than a breathless plea.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Dick's lips grazed her jaw, a smirk in his voice. "For me to bend you over, take you like the bitch in heat you are, make you scream my name while you cum on my dick over and over again." He chuckled darkly. "Not that you're a stranger to Dick in your mouth."
Jessica's breath hitched, her body betraying her before she could protest. She wanted to snap back, to tell him to fuck off, but the heat pooling between her legs was too overwhelming. Every inch of her skin burned under his touch, her mind a mess of anger and desire, and the worst part was—he knew. He fucking knew.
Dick's fingers curled into her waist, tugging her shirt up, exposing her bare stomach. His eyes roamed over her with a possessive hunger that made her pulse quicken, her breath coming out in shallow gasps. But he didn't rush. He let the silence stretch, the tension between them thickening like a rope being pulled tighter and tighter, waiting for her to break first.
Jessica's fingers twitched, the defiance in her eyes flickering as his touch sent a jolt through her. Her breath hitched, and she fought to keep her composure, her lips pressed into a thin line. But every second that passed, every brush of his fingertips against her skin chipped away at her resistance.
"Say it," Dick murmured, his voice a low growl as his hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer. "You know what you want."
She trembled under his gaze, her pride battling against the heat building inside her. Her throat tightened, the words stuck somewhere between anger and surrender. Jessica wasn't used to this—being cornered, having no control. The idea of asking him for anything felt like giving up everything.
But his hands... God, his hands were everywhere. Teasing, torturing, waiting for her to crack.
"You're such an asshole," she hissed, her voice wavering, but her body betrayed her. She didn't pull away. Instead, her fingers grazed the edges of his shirt, trembling as they traced the fabric, unsure if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.