Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jason crawls out of bed, sticky with sweat and hard enough to pound nails, knowing his evening is going to blow truly unimaginable levels of ass. 

His phone is going off. The calendar app, when he digs it out of last night's filthy costume, informs him helpfully and unnecessarily that he's about to hit rut. His past self, in a genius act of self-sadomasochism, added a shitload of emojis to the notification. Sparkly hearts everywhere. 

He rolls his eyes at that and throws the phone onto the bed instead of against the wall like he kind of wants to because it's just hormonal irritability and he'll regret it pretty much immediately. He stomps to the kitchen to start the coffeemaker instead because fuck his downstairs neighbors and fuck his dynamic, also. His head is throbbing painlessly, foggy and agitated and frankly, fucking stupid. 

He doesn't have fucking time for this. 

His body disagrees with him with the same placid inevitability it has ever since he crawled out of the poisonous Nickelodeon slime, blessed with a knot he didn't know what to do with and instincts about as easy to wrangle as a concussion. Crawling into the shower barely helps, and he has to chug a liter of water before his head really clears. The shower does nothing to tamp down the swelling fug of impending rut, sweet and earthy and nose-burningly strong. 

Well. Well, whatever. He has places to be. And soon. It's evening already. 

He lays out the fresh uniform, checking it over with a dutiful diligence he doesn't feel. He's running hot, a little sweaty already under the leather jacket he's probably going to end up ditching at some point in the night. Flushed and irritable, growling to himself as he wires up all the countermeasures of his suit and then goes to grab the extra countermeasures an impending rut calls for. 

Industrial strength scent-blockers, hopefully enough to blunt even Jason's pre-rut scent. A punishingly tight cup because he's on as hair trigger already and Tim is bizarrely brazen with his scent for a Bristol O. 

And his special heavy-duty Red Hood mask. 

He stretches his jaw, hinges cracking, enjoying the last moments of free movement. His fangs ache already, a sharp pain deep at the root. Rut is practically on him already, he'll be deep in it within twelve hours if he's stunningly lucky. 

But he promised stupid fucking Tim that he'd stop by for a case consultation. He promised, and… and he hates disappointing Tim, for reasons he's not going to examine at all, thanks. And he doesn't want to explain why they need to reschedule, anyway. Tim would tell Dick, and he doesn't want to put up with Tim's annoying Alpha and his lack of personal space and how all of that will mess with him. 

It's going to mess with him anyway, seeing an O so close to his rut, especially Tim. He's not enthused about how much worse the anxiety will be when he's back home tucked up alone in his den, his instincts screaming that something's missing. But he's a grown-ass man and he's going to suck it up. And he's going to avoid the well-meaning offers of help, because he's above taking advantage of the circumstances. 

So. Countermeasures. 

People—read, Dick—joke all the time about how much his mask looks like a muzzle. Joke's on them, he thinks as he presses it into place on his face. Or maybe the joke's on him. 

It is a muzzle. 

It latches closed at the back of his neck, the lock engaging with a hiss- thunk . It digs into the soft skin under his jaw a little, rests heavy on the bridge of his nose, but something settles in the pit of his stomach. A sense of security. Even if his rut hits, even if his rut and the Pit both hit him at once, even if the absolute worst happens, he won't be biting anyone. 

He's not getting this mask off without help, by design. Roy's, after his rut is all over. 

Whatever. He needs to review case notes before he heads out or Tim will make fun of him. 

==

Tim opens the door and Jason remembers all over again how much of a mistake he's making. 

Tim is a switchblade of an Omega—lethally sharp, a miracle of form and function, not an ounce of gentleness in him. Leaning in the doorway to his apartment, his den , bending all his attention on Jason while his scent curls around Jason like an embrace, he's… 

Tempting. God, he's a fucking temptation. He always has been. 

Jason blinks, blinks again, and swallows down the throbbing need to purr. His cock aches, trapped by the cup, and Jason is abjectly grateful for it. 

"Gonna let me in?" he demands. 

There's a long pause of Tim examining him. Long enough for Jason to start sweating all over again, long enough for the anxiety to prick at him. And then he grins, flashing a hint of fang. The corners of his eyes crinkle up, Jason thinks inanely, like it's a real smile. What the fucking hell. 

Fucking rut. 

"C'mon in," Tim says and steps away, walking deeper into the apartment. 

Jason takes his time getting his boots off, breathing shallowly through his mouth to help himself adjust to the smell of Omega that permeates Tim's apartment. It's thick in Tim's primary residence, the smell of content O. That hazy feeling threatens at the edges of his thoughts. He pushes it away. 

He's probably shaving hours off the time until his rut. Fuck his stupid sensitive nose. 

Tim's set up something of a command post on the coffee table, a laptop and set of external hard drives accompanied by reams of paper notes in various stages of coffee-stained and crumpled. Tim's on his knees by the couch, fishing around under it for something. Jason resolutely doesn't look at—any of him. 

He finally shoots back upright, holding a pen triumphantly. His shirt, probably borrowed from fucking Dick, is hanging off a shoulder in a way that Jason has worked studiously and failed utterly at not noticing. Even when he isn't looking, he's aware of that shoulder. 

Tim's scent would be so much stronger there. 

Belatedly he realizes his hands are aching because he's curled them into fists so tight his nails are probably digging permanent creases into his gloves. He sits gingerly on the edge of the couch and pulls them off, stretching his fingers out and trying not to wince too obviously at how they sting when blood rushes back into them. His cock throbs another painful reminder of its own existence. 

Tim grins at him again. Jason's mouth is… very dry. 

"I've been surveilling the warehouse," Tim begins, turning the laptop so Jason can see the screen. It's running three camera feeds at once, different angles of the dingy warehouse building that's been a thorn in Jason's side for a month now. 

They run through time stamps for a while and Jason settles down a little, though his thoughts stubbornly refuse to clear and he keeps catching Tim glancing at him from the corner of his eye. Doubtless because he's acting like a serious weirdo. Adding to his weirdo-ness is the fact his cock keeps trying to get his attention, painfully. 

But he only looks like an animal. He's not going to adjust himself in front of an Omega. Not even a packmate.

When they've caught up to present Jason takes the opportunity to stand, stretching and resettling his shirt. Tim looks up at him for a long moment and then returns to his work. 

"You don't need to wear the mask inside," he says without looking up. He's poking at something on his laptop, the camera feed adjusting by minute degrees. "Feeling dramatic tonight, are we?" 

Something about that stings. More than it should. 

"It's not coming off," Jason growls. 

Something about his tone must catch Tim's attention because he looks back up and suddenly all of his attention is on Jason. 

It feels even worse than it had at the door, like Jason's an insect pinned to a card, all of him on display. Even wearing his stupid Red Robin compression leggings and one of Dick's truly atrocious graphic tees, it isn't a good idea to underestimate Tim. He might be leaking into his cup, Jason thinks deliriously. That's going to be gross to clean out later. 

Tim gets to his feet. Jason doesn't bolt immediately, which he thinks is very brave of him, actually, because Tim is doing that thing he does sometimes where he doesn't blink. 

He also doesn't bolt as Tim approaches, but that might have more to do with Tim's scent hitting him like a crowbar to the head. 

"Oh," Tim says and reaches up. It's so shocking that he does it that Jason doesn't stop him, doesn't catch his wrist, doesn't step away even though Tim gives him plenty of time to do so. He just stands there dumbly as Tim's palm cups where the corner of his jaw would be, warm against cold plastic and metal. He lets Tim turn his head, still stupid with shock, lets himself be examined. "That's a real muzzle." 

He sounds fascinated. Which is… it's better than relief, definitely. Jason knows what to do with relief that the scary animal throwback Alpha is contained. Belligerent anger, mostly. But this isn't much better, because Jason doesn't know what there is to be fascinated by . 

He steps back and Tim's hand falls away. 

"That's barbaric," Tim comments. There's a note there that Jason… doesn't understand. So he ignores it. 

He snorts. 

"Thanks, Timily," he says. His voice is deeper than it should be, a rich bassy note edged with a rumbling purr he has no control over, but at least the muzzle renders most of that a muffled buzz. Fucking rut, it has him wanting to soothe the Omega it smells nearby. He doesn't particularly want to know how Tim would react to being soothed by… someone like him. "Didn't ask, but your opinion is fucking noted."

Fuck, but he smells so good. Salty-sweet and musky, like the promise of a good fuck, stroking the back of Jason's tongue. Jason is going to ignore that. 

"Not to mention dangerous," Tim continues as if he hadn't heard Jason at all. Jason swallows back an irritated growl. Tim being a presumptuous little asshole isn't new and it isn't usually a big deal, Jason's just rut-sensitive and irritable. "What if you get caught by it and can't get away? Those locks can't be easy to disengage by yourself." 

Exactly what Roy had said, when Jason had first come to him post-rut, exhausted and shivery and miserable. Jason pays Tim exactly the same level of consideration. 

"Literally not any of your business," he says and his clipped tone must finally get through because Tim's gaze sharpens on him again. Head tilting to the side in the avian way that speaks to exactly what a weird fucking kid he'd been. Weird kid, weird adult. "Can we just get this over with? I have places to be, pretender." 

"You only call me that when you want to piss me off," Tim observes, once again utterly ignoring Jason's words. He's still watching, unblinking, and his nostrils flare ever so slightly. "Something's up with you." 

His pupils are creeping wider. Jason begins to suspect, heart sinking into his gut, that his scent blockers weren't strong enough. 

"I'm gonna go," Jason begins, moving to get around the couch, and Tim takes a step forward. 

Jason freezes. Tim's head tilts the other way. 

"You're rutting," he says after a moment, and Jason's breath catches on a protest. Tim hauls in a deep breath, mouth open to taste the fucking air, and Jason freezes again. "No, but you will be really soon." 

It's really not a question. Fucking scent-blockers. Good for fucking nothing. 

"Yeah," Jason says shortly. "So I'm, y'know, gonna go , replacement."

" Sit down ." 

Jason sits down. 

Tim hasn't blinked yet, Jason is ninety percent sure. He's just staring down at Jason, pupils slowly eating into iris, smelling like something that makes Jason want to lay down and roll over. His heart is pounding and he's sweaty in stupid places and he doesn't… he doesn't know why…?

"You smell of rut," Tim repeats. His voice is normal again, none of that sharp growled command. Jason opens his mouth to bitch and Tim shakes his head with a strange smile. "It's dangerous to go out as Red Hood smelling like that. I have better scent blockers. Shower and change and you can go." 

Jason has to swallow twice before he can talk. 

"Right." It does, unfortunately, make sense. Rutting Alphas are vulnerable Alphas. The best case scenario is he's distractible and unfocused, and Jason's ruts have always been far from a best case scenario. It's a prime opportunity for someone like Black Mask to take a swipe at him. "Right, I… okay. Just a quick shower." 

Tim shrugs, still smiling that strange little smile that Jason doesn't like, and gestures to his bathroom. Jason goes, fighting the prickling feeling he shouldn't be turning his back on Tim. 

Tim is a lot of things, but he's not an enemy. Not for years. Jason is, reluctantly, more or less in the Wayne pack. His packmate won't attack him. 

He still feels jumpy. 

Fucking rut . 

Showering feels… wonderful. Tim's bathroom is as understatedly luxurious as he would expect from the weird Bristol O that he is. Shedding his cup is a relief even if it's hard to keep his hand off himself, and the water pressure is strong enough to blast the sweat from him and wash the aggression out of his mouth. It cleans out the saliva from the inside of his muzzle too. 

Tim's towels, which Jason hesitates over before finally grabbing to dry himself, are soft and absorbent. It's almost enough to piss him off all over again, except that the drumbeat of rut anxiety has quieted a little and he's mostly just grateful for that. 

There are clothes on the floor just outside the bathroom door and no Tim in sight. A pair of sweatpants that are probably Dick's, judging from how tight they're going to hug his thighs and ass, and a shirt that's definitely going to pinch at the armpits. 

They smell of Tim. They smell strongly of Tim. 

He pulls them on anyway. He's sweated through his own clothes and they're about twenty seconds from turning crusty, and he's not about to try to shimmy into sweaty, crusty jeans if he doesn't have to. 

Even if he's at a stubborn and steady half-mast no matter how many times he pictures Bruce after an encounter with Condiment King. He's just going to hope Tim is gracious about ignoring his glaringly obvious bulge. The thought of trying to fit himself back into that cup makes him want to die again. 

Tim's eyes drag down Jason's body to his crotch the second Jason steps into the room and there's no way he misses how Jason's cock twitches at being looked at so blatantly. The sweats are practically laminated to his dick. 

"Thanks for the, uh, clothes," Jason says and Tim's gaze drags back up Jason's body to his face. His expression is contemplative, if Jason had to guess, but even that's difficult to read. "I'll, um. Scent-blockers?" 

There's a pause, slightly too long, prickling with how Tim is staring at him. Unblinking, expression foreign. 

"Please sit," Tim says at last, and Jason sits, grumbling, because at least Tim had asked this time. 

"Fine," he says, still a little growly. "What—"

Tim is in his face and then in his lap in a move so graceful, so arrogant that Jason doesn't even believe it's happening until Tim's knees are brushing his hips, their noses inches apart, Tim staring down at him with that same strange expression. 

And then Tim seats himself on Jason's cock and abruptly Jason's entire body is alive . 

He yelps. It's an electric shock, a near-lethal dose of sudden arousal, all of him standing at attention. His nipples go stiff, hard and prickling at the rasp of his borrowed shirt against them, tight and begging to be touched. His cock throbs, hard so quickly he's dizzy. He can't stop himself from thrusting up, a half-aborted motion dragging his cock against— 

Tim is not wearing underwear. 

Jason can feel that. He can fucking feel the soft give of Tim's cunt through two layers of fabric, so fucking hot, the sticky slide of his folds over the curve of Jason's trapped erection. The muscles of his inner thighs lock. His lower back and ass are tight and shivering with the barely contained need to thrust up again, rock against that feverish heat. 

"Tim," he rasps. His throat is desert-dry but his mouth is flooding with saliva, so wet it threatens to spill over. Swallowing doesn't help. It just drags the sweet smell of Omega down into him. 

He's wearing Tim's scent, wearing those clothes that smell like fucking sin, and Jason remembers way too late, like the moron that he is, that Tim doesn't like playing with anything less than a stacked deck. 

Tim puts his hands very deliberately on Jason's chest. 

Jason does not contain the flinch. He can't stop the thrust of his chest up, pressing his tits up against Tim's hands, seeking more hot friction against his nipples. He doesn't manage to bite back the whine that slips off his tongue. 

"Jason," Tim responds. It should sound mocking. It just sounds greedy. His eyes are pinned to Jason's face and his hands are moving in tiny, tiny circles that drag over Jason's nipples, shocky bursts of pleasure that light up his core. Jason can't tell if it's his cock throbbing or the heat of Tim's cunt. 

His hands hover, awkward and stranded in the air halfway between Tim's shoulders and his hips. They keep twitching, halfway out of control. He wants to grab Tim, take him by that bendy little waist and fuck up into him, but he—he can't, shouldn't. 

Won't. 

He wants to grab Tim by the wrists but he doesn't know whether it's to drag his hands off or press them harder to Jason's tits. 

"You smell good," Tim says to him, brazen, throaty. He's breathing Jason in, deep sips of air he drags over his tongue with obscene, blatant enjoyment. His pupils are massive and the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth is sharp. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you came here smelling like rut just to tempt me, Jason." 

The way he says Jason's name, a little shaky, dragged out to two sing-song syllables, jaaaaay-son —Jason's hips jerk up again, just enough to feel that sticky heat rock against his cock again. A sound breaks out of him, less than a moan, barely a sound at all. 

"Don't," he grits out. "I don't smell good." 

Because he doesn't smell good, he's heard enough about how offensively strong his scent is to know that much. He stinks and he looks like an animal. 

Tim's teeth snap together an inch from his eyes and he flinches. 

"You do," Tim says. He sounds fierce, and pleased, bizarre fucking Omega. "I smelled you the second you walked in my door. You step into my den smelling like rut and you try to tell me you don't smell so fucking good?" 

Jason's mouth opens, though he isn't sure what he'd possibly say to… to that . It's a mistake. Tim's scent floods into his mouth even through the muzzle, that smell like the prelude to sex, and his cock throbs. The deep scent of aroused, pleased O, slicking up the back of his throat, making his mouth wet. The inside of his muzzle is humid, air thick with want. 

Tim shifts closer, a slow drag of his pussy against Jason's trapped erection. It presses his throat closer to Jason's mouth, and a new note to his scent emerges. 

Bittersweet. Earthy and carnal. An Alpha's smell, left to linger at the soft vulnerability of Tim's pulse. Enough for Jason's thoughts to focus just a little. 

Tim is Dick's omega. 

As eldest Dick is nominally the head Alpha even to Jason, old enough now for Alfred to bow graciously and gratefully from the position. The omegas of the pack are by tradition his to care for, no matter that Cass and Tim are far from helpless. Or interested in being managed . But still. 

As modern and unconventional as the Wayne pack is, Tim has always been Dick's in a way that's impossible to deny. Even now, rubbing Jason's rut all over himself, he smells of Dick. 

The smell of Grayson, the lingering tinge of alpha claim, actually goes straight to Jason's cock. Right to his knot like a fist squeezing, a safe-warmth that hits him in the pit of his stomach. 

Fucking rut . 

"Grayson," Jason manages. It slurs against his fangs. It prickles at him, that it's so obvious how deformed he is, too animalistic and vulgar. 

Tim is Dick's, he means. Jason shouldn't be allowed to touch. 

Tim hums. His cheek brushes Jason's muzzle again, leaving more caramel-sweet omega scent on him, but he pulls back and regards Jason with a quizzical frown. Too quickly it smoothes to wicked understanding. 

"You want him here?" he coos, disarmingly sweet. He's shifting, his plush fucking cunt dragging over Jason's aching cock despite the fabric between them, the sweet smell of omega slick rising up around them—Tim's soaking, leaking through his leggings, probably leaving wet stains all over Jason's crotch. It's one hundred percent on purpose. "You want your alpha here for your rut, Jay?" 

Jason is left gasping, winded by—by the idea of his Alpha — ?

"Thought so," Tim continues and he should sound triumphant, he should sound judgemental and cruel but he just sounds… he sounds happy. "You like A's the way I like O's, huh, Alpha?" 

The sound Jason makes isn't words. It's a groan pulled from the depths of him by Tim's cunt dragging against his cock, the rich smell of Dick's claim at the crook of Tim's throat, the idea of having… having that. 

An Alpha. Having an Alpha. 

Jason's Alpha . 

Fuck, but he's weak and he wants to say yes. He wants to say yes to Tim. To Dick, to an Alpha to put their teeth to the back of his neck and bend him to sweet submission. To the cunt teasing his cock, the ache of rut in his teeth, the anxious Alpha jitters to get his Omega to a nest and keep them there, safe and stuffed full of cock and comfort. 

Not his Omega. 

Not his Alpha, he shouldn't even want—

"You don't want this," he manages. His voice is wrecked. The purr keeps catching in his chest and swallowing it back hurts. "He won't—" 

The hand in his hair, wrenching his head back, yanks a whimper from him. 

"Do not," Tim says in his ear. Soft lips against Jason's cheekbone where the muzzle doesn't protect him. "Do not tell me what I do or don't want." 

His mouth moves. His lips bumping over the ridge of the muzzle's strap, then wet Omega fangs pressing to the soft skin protecting Jason's pulse. There's a quiet, submissive whine in the air and it isn't until Jason has to haul in a breath and the noise stutters that he realizes that it's him. 

"We talked about you," Tim continues. The hand not in Jason's hair is wandering his body. Palming Jason's shoulder, bicep, a generous handful of his chest. He tweaks a nipple and Jason's hips jolt up, helpless, thoughtless. "Should have seen how hard he came thinking about mounting you, Jay. Knotted on nothing at all. Wrecked my sheets, that's how bad he wants to fuck you." 

The sting of teeth shoots through him, fangs in the meat of his shoulder so perilously close to his throat, and Jason's body gives up. 

He's loose, suddenly. A lax sprawl, hands clutching weakly at Tim's hips as they roll slowly against his cock. Head full of clouds and warmth and the overwhelming sweetness of Tim's arousal. Ready for whatever his Omega wants. 

"Oh, Jay," he hears, faint, and if he didn't know better he'd say Tim sounds stunned. The weight on top of him shifts again and he moans at the starry pleasure. 

"Omega," he slurs, dazed. His fangs get in the way of coherency but when he tries to think about that, tries to dig down for the shame he knows should follow that thought, a hand lands at the back of his neck and his thoughts scatter again. The thick, heady sweetness of Omega blooms brighter in his nose, and he laps stupidly after it with a clumsy tongue, pressing to the inside of his muzzle. Scent gland, he could be licking Tim's scent gland , tasting how turned on and happy his O is. 

Not… not his Omega. Tim's not his. 

"That's it, Alpha, c'mon," Tim is whispering in his ear and Jason groans deep in his chest. His cock is aching. His rut is imminent. He should be leaving, bedding down in the safehouse with the locks on the doors and windows and the pile by the bed of water bottles and packets of mashed fruit he can access with a straw, but he doesn't want to and anyway he can't move. He can't go against the Omega holding him down, can't imagine doing anything but exactly what he's told. "So sweet for me, huh? I had no idea but you're just so sweet for me, aren't you?" 

The needy croon jerks itself out of Jason and Tim croons in answer, pressing forward, teeth catching Jason's throat and hands suddenly tight around Jason's wrists. Fangs worry at Jason's pulse and his head falls back in automatic submission, and Tim's cunt drags along the painful bulge of Jason's trapped erection in one long, slick, wet glide. 

Jason's eyes roll back in his head and he comes all over himself. 

Tim's breathing hard when he sits back, pink and open-mouthed and eyes so, so wide. He settles gently on Jason's softening cock and Jason moans, shaking. 

He can't find his mouth, his vocal cords. He just looks up at Tim, bleary. His vision is blurry and he can't seem to do anything with his hands but move them, dig his fingertips into Tim's hips in gentle, fitful motions. He hadn't knotted, but he's suddenly soaking in his own come and strung-out, the smell of himself and his arousal thick in the air. 

"I want to be here for your rut," Tim says and Jason blinks up at him. The words are so slow to filter through the sweet stupidity in his head, but they strike something aching in his chest. Tim's voice is greedy. Ravenous. His words trip over themselves coming out. It's hard to follow. "I want to call Dick and have him here too, 'cause he wants you and I want you and you deserve to be taken care of , Alpha. Can we be there with you?" 

You don't want this , Jason thinks miserably, a blessed splinter of coherent thought. Tim doesn't want this, Dick won't want it either when they get to see a rut-mad Jason. And he doesn't want it either. He doesn't want to show off how stupid he is, how crazed rut makes him. Hormonal and agitated fit to beat a pregnant O, desperate for pack to protect and comfort. Unable to sleep until his body forces him to, too keyed up with the knowledge that the second he closes his eyes he's alone and unsafe . 

He doesn't want them to see that except that he does, he hurts with how badly he wants it. 

"He's gonna say no," he croaks, because at least Dick might be sane, might stop them from doing something Tim will regret. 

"He's going to break so many traffic laws to get here when I text him," Tim counters and smiles beatifically. "He wants you, Jason." 

Christ. Jason can't fucking imagine. Picturing Dick wanting him blanks out his head, a mathematical impossibility. 

He's sitting in his own spend and he's hard again already. Aching, body fighting to thrust up, rub himself against Tim's soft pussy. His whole body throbs with want, the room is humid and close with it, Tim's gaze implacable and hot on Jason's face. He wants to knot, he wants to put Tim underneath him and brood, he wants… 

He wants Dick. 

"Okay," he hears himself say, hoarse. Okay. He can… they won't… 

The thought vanishes as Tim leans back to snatch his phone. It's a twisty little position, displays that Dick-trained flexibility, and rubs his pussy and ass all over Jason's lap. He holds in the moan, bites back the growl when Tim seats himself back on Jason's lap properly and taps out something no doubt insane on his phone. 

And then he tosses it aside and grins at Jason. All fangs. 

"I want you naked," he declares breathlessly. 

Jason's borrowed shirt gets caught on his muzzle and he fights his way free, swearing. Tim gets up helpfully, shedding his shirt and stepping free of his leggings with offensive grace as Jason does battle with the too-tight come-wet sweatpants. His heartbeat is thundering in his ears and he can't… he doesn't… what is happening . 

Tim is taking him by the hand, it turns out. Gentle, bizarrely dainty, pulling Jason after him towards the bedroom. Jason't doesn't fight it, couldn't even if he wanted to, fixated on the sway of slim hips, the play of defined musculature in Tim's back, the hard muscles of a staff fighter. The eddy of saline heat, the unhindered waft of Omega slick. He's going to go wherever Tim is going to lead him. 

To Tim's nest, it turns out. 

Tim is a utilitarian nester, which Jason will spare brainpower to be unsurprised about some other time. There are pillows, and some soft blankets, but the nest itself is just a standard mattress with an expensive waterproof cover. The smell of Tim is intense here, thick and sweet and catching Jason in the core. His muscles ache, stomach and ass clenching with the instinct to thrust up into nothing. His cock bobs between his legs, heavy and aching with neglect. 

"Sit down," Tim commands and, panting embarrassingly, Jason sits at the edge of the bed. Tim crawls into his lap again, perched on Jason's knees. Jason fights himself, trying to look at Tim's face instead of the dark hair between his legs, his pussy spread wide and hot enough to feel even with the inches separating them. He's neatly trimmed, because of course he would be. 

Tim's fingertip comes to rest at the edge of his muzzle. Jason jerks his gaze from Tim's cunt again. 

Soft, warm, Omega. The smell of Tim folds around him like the muzzle isn't even there. Sweet, sea-like musk. It lingers at the back of his throat and he rubs his tongue compulsively against the roof of his mouth, chasing the sweetness. His mouth is wet and his fangs ache. His skin prickles. Rut sings in him, a drumbeat of wanting, so close. 

"Stop," Jason gasps, weak and broken. "You don't want—that should stay on."

Tim doesn't stop. He leans in and nuzzles, cheek and nose and lips across the intake for his muzzle until the scent of him is all that Jason can smell, syrupy arousal and pleasure and happy Omega. His head is empty, clouded, his tongue fat with want, pressing to the backs of his teeth. It wants to loll out, taste the air, chase the flavor of the Omega he's made so happy. 

Eventually Tim sits back. He's breathing fast and light and his pupils are massive, dark holes rimmed in cold blue. He's pinking up beautifully and Jason can't look away from him. 

"I'll stop," he whispers and a whine of protest punches from Jason's chest before he can even remember why he should be agreeing . Tim grins, flashing sharp little Omega fangs that leave Jason prickling with the sudden urge to tilt his head and bare his throat. "I promise, I'll stop, just tell me you really want me to." 

Jason opens his mouth so say yes, to say stop. 

"'Mega," is what comes out instead, voice like broken glass. Hoarse and wanting and weak. 

"You're not going to hurt me," Tim tells him, too close, too intense, staring into Jason's face with all the misplaced faith of a street preacher, and then he bends to—

To lick across Jason's muzzle. 

His tongue dips into the crevices of it, clever and hot and wet. Jason can smell it, taste it on every breath, nearly feel it. The red flicker of it in the corners of his vision, how it would feel across his lips, his mouth, his teeth. He gasps for air, open-mouthed and tongue-out and wanting, drool slipping down his chin and dripping through his muzzle. 

Tim licks that up too. 

"You won't hurt me, Jason," Tim murmurs, only steel and plastic separating them. He's smiling, and the smell of him is all clean, pleased Omega. There's no fear, not even a hint of uncertainty, just… wanting. "I'm not scared of you, promise. Let me take this off?" 

Jason isn't strong enough to say no. 

His head bends forward, baring the back of his neck. Baring the locks. He can't think straight, can't remember how to explain the locking mechanism, but Tim is smart. He'll figure it out. 

The thought pulls a croon out of him, as Tim's palms skim the sides of his throat, his fingers finding the catches of the locks. The Omega in his lap, running clever fingers over the locking mechanisms, is so special. So smart, so capable, smelling so turned on and fertile and ready for Jason's rut. 

The lock gives up in seconds. A hiss and it drops from his face into Tim's waiting hand, tossed over his shoulder without a second look to rattle away across the floor. Jason doesn't look after it, Tim's hand under his chin is lifting his head and he can't look away from the expression on Tim's face. 

Bared fangs, dark eyes, pink cheeks. A mouth meant for kissing, for cock. The hunger in his face pins Jason in place more effectively than handcuffs, pure hunger all focused on Jason. 

Tim's thumb moves up, over his jaw, and presses into Jason's mouth. Up against his—his fangs. 

His massive, primitive, ugly fangs. The fangs of a fucking animal, the fangs of a throwback Alpha, fangs that tell everyone that looks at him to expect nothing but a stupid creature driven by the instinct to fuck and to fight. Fangs every single omega he'd ever let close enough to see had flinched from. 

For good fucking reason. Trying to mate someone with these fangs out, driven by instinct and passion, Jason's more likely to bleed them than bond them. 

Tim isn't flinching. 

Jason gasps for air around Tim's fingers. 

"Hello, Alpha," Tim murmurs. His eyes are bright, greedy. They search Jason's face, linger on his mouth held open in an effort not to bite down on Tim's fingers. The pad of Tim's thumb, rough and tasting of salt, rubs against Jason's tongue. "God, you… open up for me." 

Jason's mouth drops all the way open. His jaw cracks. 

Tim laughs, so delighted, and the thumb is taken from Jason's lips to be replaced by—by wet tongue. Tim licking into his mouth, licking across Jason's fangs, soft and hot and wet and uncaring that they're too big. Fearless. Jason relaxes his jaw and lets Tim lick the taste of Alpha rut out of him, the wetness in his mouth that won't stop coming at the smell of Omega. 

Tim's panting when he sits back, mouth wet and red. He croons, breathless and pleased, and an answering rumble rises from Jason's chest 

"You listen so well," Tim says. He sounds giddy. Jason thrusts up against him. He can't stop himself. 

Tim rides the motion easily, gracefully. 

"You like that? You want me to tell you what to do?" Tim asks, and again it could come out harsh, or mocking, but he just sounds ecstatic . Like the idea of taking charge of Jason's stupid, fucked up instincts is somehow rewarding to him. 

The thought twists in the pit of Jason's stomach but he can't deny it, can't stop himself from nodding desperately. He's drooling again, he can feel it. 

Tim makes a delicate, sweet little noise. A moan. His hand in Jason's hair tightens, just a little spark of pain. 

"Christ, you're so good for me," he murmurs, and it doesn't sound like he's quite talking to Jason, but the praise kicks another stuttering purr from Jason anyway. "My good little Alpha, huh? You want to make me feel good, keep me safe?" 

He does, he does want that, he wants desperately. 

"I'm going to ride your face until Dick gets here, does that sound good? Get me nice and wet and loose enough to take you. You're gonna take such good care of your omega, aren't you?" 

Jason's hips jolt up. His hardness aches and he's leaking precome all over the sheets beneath him and all he can think about is the sweet smell of Omega slick, the heat of Tim's cunt against him and how good it'll taste. He's making noise, uncontrolled and low in his chest, a pleading whine. 

Tim croons. Reassuring, sweet, a little bit sadistic. He edges forward on his knees, pressing in close, moving in until his body presses to Jason's. Until Jason has to touch him, to grip his hips, to haul him impossibly closer. His mound presses to Jason's stomach, his erect clit a point of heat, a hint of slick smearing across Jason's belly. Jason pants, dragging in air over his lolling tongue like a dog, savoring the thick seasalt taste of Tim's arousal in the air. His body keeps jerking, trying to fuck up into nothing, desperate to knot. 

"Lay down," Tim whispers to him. 

Jason lays down. 

The sheets are cold, his body is feverish, he shudders with awareness of his whole body as Tim sits on his stomach. His cunt pressing to Jason's skin, his wetness so apparent, the smell of him soaking into Jason. His hands go to Jason's tits, thumbs pressing rough over his nipples, pinching and pulling until the noises Jason's making run together into a keening wail. 

Tim grinds his clit into Jason's stomach with shameless pleasure, lips parted and red. He's making Jason smell like claimed Alpha, like an Alpha that pleases their Omega. The thought grabs Jason by something low in his gut, forcing out a spurt of precome, a jolting little bark of sound. 

"God, you're pretty," Tim pants, and lifts up to knee his way up to Jason's face. He ignores Jason's hands feeling up his thighs, the pert curve of his ass, the slimness of his hips. 

When he reaches Jason's face, Tim's pussy is flushed pink, shining with wetness, swollen with arousal. He flinches when Jason reaches up to touch, mesmerized, sliding two fingers through the burning hot center of him, over the clutching hole up to his clit standing proud and throbbing with want. His dark curls are soaked in slick.

Jason spreads his folds, moaning at the softness and how Tim's almost too wet to grip. Tim opens for him so prettily, his tight little hole clenching visibly. So harshly pink, so obviously turned on. Brazen as the rest of him. 

Tim has a pretty pussy. Jason puts his mouth to it and sucks . 

Tim keens for him, a long high noise, his hips jerking and working himself against Jason's mouth. His clit bumping across Jason's tongue, a streak of heat and slick. He tastes so good , thick and animal. The heat of him, the humidity. He sucks in great drags, until Tim is sobbing and his chin is wet. 

He gives Tim's clit a parting lick and laps after the center of him, his fluttering little hole, the tight core of him so burningly hot. Where the slick wells up from, the strongest taste, the smell of Tim and his arousal so thick Jason could drown. 

"So good," Tim pants. Jason opens his eyes and doesn't know when he'd closed them, looks up the blurry length of Tim's body. His eyes, hungry, his mouth open around great draws of air, the flare of his nostrils scenting after Jason. So far above Jason, beautiful, flushed pink and sublime. 

His hand winds into Jason's hair, tilting his head up, and Jason's body gives up again. 

Loose, dazed, he goes where Tim puts him. Tucks his mouth around Tim's clit and sucks, tongues it in long, gentle licks until those thighs shiver against his cheeks. He sips air, barely enough, dizzy on the heaviness of Tim's scent, the smell of his cunt and the feel of it spreading against his lips when Tim drags his mouth down from his clit, through his folds to his hole. 

"Get me wet," he demands even though he's already soaking , dripping slick on Jason's face, but Jason tilts his head up anyway. Feels the edges of his hole, presses to the rim of him in broad, firm pushes. Presses deeper, opening the tautness of him in torturous little increments until his tongue slides in so easily, until Tim's voice is a high, constant song of pleasure. 

Slick and spit drips from his messy mouth, over his chin. He presses in, as deep as he can reach, groaning at Tim's fingers in his hair and the fact that he can't get any deeper. His cock throbs, his body moving in sharp little thrusts up against nothing, but it seems so unimportant. So secondary to Tim, Tim's voice, lapping after the taste of him up to his clit and then back to his hole. 

"Jay," Tim sighs. His hands shift to cup the back of his head, cradling Jason to his cunt. So gentle. Jason's hums in answer. All he can give, with his tongue working as deep in Tim as it is. "Fingers, Jay, please? Give me your fingers?" 

Jason is already moving. 

The first finger slips in easily, a long guide of slick and heat and softness, so Jason shifts and presses back in with two. It stretches him, Jason can feel it in the clench of Tim's cunt around the intrusion. The motion of his body, hips tilting and searching for more, the little panting noises he makes when Jason crooks his fingers a little bit. Tugging at his rim, opening him up a little more. 

Those thighs clamp tight to his head and Tim's hole grips his fingers and he's being shaken, his face is suddenly wet, Tim is shouting—

He came. He came on Jason's face, that's Tim's slick all over his cheeks and dripping down to pool in the hollow of Jason's throat. That's his orgasm fluttering around Jason's fingers. He gasps for air and gets only more of Tim. He's shaking too. His cock hurts and he's blind with wanting and the clutch deep in his belly that wants to knot, and he ignores it. 

Tim shudders, whimpers, and lifts himself up a bare inch. 

It's hard but Jason keeps himself still. Holds his fingers steady, crooked the way that has Tim making sweet little noises as he works himself back down, down onto Jason's fingers. Fucks himself in little bucking motions. There's no room under him, no room for Jason to do anything but press in a third finger when Tim begs for it, licking after the drip of slick, panting for air and drinking the taste of him down. 

Time slips away a little in the motion of Tim against his tongue. His hole flutters around his fingers, around his tongue, the fresh taste of slick smearing across his mouth and nose and chin. His hands at Tim's thighs, his calves, just resting there. The soreness of his mouth and jaw slipping away into just a long, low burn of satisfaction—

"Jesus, baby." 

Jason flinches. 

Tim's thighs block out his view of anything but his body twisting, Tim's scent filling his nose so absolutely that nothing else can slip through. His fingers dig into the give of Tim's hips, hauling him closer, pressing his tongue deeper into Tim, nonsensical, not quite a fear response. 

Tim croons, rocks against Jason's tongue, his hole tightening around him in little pulses. His hand clutches at Jason's curls. 

"Dick." He's purring, pleased, pleasured. His scent is all pleasure. "Alpha. Feels so good." 

"Fuck, Timmy," Dick whispers and Jason can't see him, not pinned by Tim's weight against his face, but he jerks at the sound of his voice so close by. Still all he can smell is Omega, slick and arousal and his own rut descending, and something in him lurches at that. He wants to smell his Alpha, wants to know—

"He's so good, Dickie," Tim moans, rutting his clit against Jason's lips. He sucks on instinct, sloppy, mouth sore and clumsy and trying anyway. His face is still wet and sticky with the slick of Tim's orgasm and his own spit and he gasps for air between Tim's thrusts. Licks at the underside of Tim's clit, cradles it with his tongue and sucks, sloppy and noisy and wet. Squirms his arm up under Tim's thigh to press in deeper with his fingers, hard and curving forward sharply, rabbiting into him in the way that—

Tim comes again, shaking, squirting across Jason's face. He's keening, moaning, nearly screaming. His cunt goes tight around Jason's fingers just like before, milking him like it's begging for a knot, tight and so hot it feels like it should burn. 

Long moments later those thighs loosen and he can suck in a breath, flavored with Tim's orgasm. It takes him longer to unclamp his hands from Tim's thighs, allowing Tim to topple to the side and sprawl across the bed. He's shivering, twitching and making sweet little purring noises, a hand trailing across Jason's chest. 

Jason can't look at him. He's looking up at Dick, standing in the doorway to Tim's bedroom. 

Dick stares back at him. 

Even through wet, blurry eyes he looks every inch the perfect Alpha, big enough to keep his pack safe and sweet enough to be comforting. He smells of Alpha , bittersweet musk, the salt of sweat. He must have run the stairs up to the apartment, he's still breathing a little heavily. Dressed in civvies, so whatever Tim had sent him to get him here so quickly it was probably something like the truth. 

Jason climbs up to his knees, clumsy, graceless. Dick doesn't move, his expression doesn't change. It's unreadable and strange, dark-eyed and intense. 

Jason makes a sound he didn't know he could. A chirp. It's low and small, and Dick's eyelashes flutter. He takes a single step into the room. 

Jason's body moves without his decision, without intervening thought. Head dropping forward, baring the back of his neck, his hands splaying across his knees palm-up. A display of submission, coming as naturally to Jason as breathing. 

Arousal explodes into the space between them. Sharp, bitter, salty Alpha arousal, all Dick's, and Jason can taste it. 

Teeth close at the back of his neck. Tim's Omega fangs, sharp and so gentle they barely tickle, and then gone again, and a new set takes their place. 

These are Alpha fangs, pressing in and in until they threaten to break skin. Until the thrill of pain drags a trill from Jason, a plea to his Alpha for mercy. There's tension in the pit of his stomach, trembling and wanting, hoping he won't. That Dick will bite down and break skin and mark Jason as his. 

The fangs dig in just a little bit harder and there's the bright sting of breaking skin—

He's released, sobbing for air, face wetter than he'd realized. He'd drooled all over himself, he realizes, swiping the back of his wrist clumsily across his mouth. 

A hand cups his cheek. He lifts his head to find Dick, smiling at him like a personal sun. There's not even a hint of aggression in his face, his scent. Jason has Tim's slick all over his face, Dick's Omega's slick, and Dick is looking at him like he loves it. 

He bends down, tongue dragging across Jason's cheek, licking up Tim's flavor. Jason makes a noise he's never made before. 

"Mind if I get naked?" Dick asks, still cupping Jason's cheek, maddeningly cheerful, and Jason is still trying to process the idea that there's a possibility in Dick's mind that Jason wouldn't want him naked when Dick continues. "I can keep my clothes on if you want, whatever makes you comfortable." 

"If you don't take your clothes off right now I'll kill you," Tim hisses. 

Jason agrees. Unable to make his mouth do anything but drool, he nods. 

"Yay," Dick says and sheds his clothes like it's nothing. Like the golden skin and dark hair he's revealing aren't a fucking revelation. 

Jason doesn't make the pathetic sound that threatens to spill out of his mouth. He swallows it back, though the way he stares at Dick's chest, his trim waist, the curves of the muscle in Dick's thighs… it's probably no less pathetic. 

"You got him all wet, huh," Dick says. He's still smiling. His erection hangs down against his thigh. He's hard, and Jason is drooling, and he doesn't know when that started up again. Had he even stopped? "He's ready?" 

"He did," Tim says, tone gloating. He's laid out on his back, knees spread, spreading his cunt with his fingers. It glisten wetly, red and swollen with arousal, his clit erect and hole opened just a little. Jason stares at him, back to Dick. Still trying to understand… "Just waiting for you." 

Dick reaches down, dragging a finger through the slickness of Tim's folds, watching Tim writhe at the sensation. Jason is not managing to catch his breath. He can't stop panting. 

"Think he's ready to take you?" 

"I'm ready," Tim complains, and Jason nods. 

Dick bends to kiss Tim and it's so sweet and gentle, an utter contrast to how he guides his cock to rub against Tim's cunt where his fingers had been. A slick, obscene sound, the squelch of Tim's folds parting around Dick's shaft, the little noise he makes into Dick's mouth when the head of Dick's cock catches on his hole once, again, and again. Probing at him, and finally withdrawing, leaving Dick's cock shining with wetness. 

"Tease," Tim grumbles, panting. Dick just grins at him, unrepentant. 

"I had to check," he sing-songs, pushing away from the bed. His cock swings between his legs, angry red and shining and dragging all of Jason's attention. What he's saying registers slowly, syrupy and sweet. "Make sure he did a good job getting you all wet so you can take that cock. He's big, baby bird." 

Jason doesn't whine like a dog for his Alpha, but only barely. 

"You know he did a good job," Tim complains, but he's pink and breathless and spreading his legs a little more. The smell of his slick blooms again, fresh, pressing back through the cloud of Dick's arousal. "Now let him fuck me, Jesus fucking Christ." 

"Whatever you want, your majesty," Dick teases and turns to Jason and fuck, fuck, Jason can't deal with that smile turned on him. Those blue, blue eyes and that pretty body, naked, maybe about to touch him. 

Dick's hand hovering next to his face. Jason pants for air and just drags in more of them, both of them. "Is it alright if I touch you more? Promise you don't have to say yes." 

"It's," Jason manages and it sounds like he's been swallowing broken glass, "fine." 

He doesn't beg. He doesn't—if Dick doesn't touch him, he's going to cry. 

"Good Alpha," Dick murmurs, still smiling, of course he's still smiling, and he sounds so proud as he takes Jason's face in his hands and bends to brush their cheeks together. Scenting him. Jason grabs for air like a drowning man. His cock is throbbing, leaking precome like a faucet. He's so wet. "You ready to fuck your Omega?"

"Jesus fuck," he gasps out, broken. "Yes, please, yes." 

Dick guides him on top of Tim. Guides him, crawling on shaky legs between Tim's knees, his hands on Jason's back and hips, pressing down against his tailbone until Jason's cock settles against Tim's folds. Until his body settles onto Tim's, folding around him like a treasure to protect, fitting himself to Tim and smearing the wet heat of him down his shaft. He's making noises, pathetic little whimpering noises, and Tim croons at him soothingly. 

He ruts against Tim's cunt. Can't help himself, cockhead bumping Tim's clit over and over, the slick mess of slick and spit and—and fuck , a little bit of Dick's precome, that's on him now too, fuck —easing it to a glide. He could come like that, he can feel the taut pressure at the base of his pelvis. He could make Tim come. 

"Shh, little wing, slow down." 

Dick's hands, one on his shoulder and one on his hip, and Jason is shuddering to stillness. Tim writhes under him, wordless for once. He's hooked his arms over Jason's shoulders, legs over Jason's thighs, grinding his pussy against Jason's cock in jerky motions. 

"You're going to fuck him," Dick murmurs next to his ear. He's on the bed now, when had he gotten on the bed? Sitting by Tim's shoulder, leaning over both of them, that avaricious gleam on his face. "You want to knot him, right? Give him what he wants? He loves getting fucked, Jay, he's gonna love your fat knot in him." 

" Fuck ." It comes out a grunt, all he can manage. He props himself up on one hand, the other gripping the base of his cock to guide himself, to keep himself from coming too quickly. Tim is looking up at him, mouth open, eyes so big and dark, and his face is all blank, desperate want. 

Jason presses himself to Tim's hole. Clumsy, rabbiting forward once and then twice and slipping away each time with how wet Tim is. 

"Slow and easy," Dick says. "You got this. Just fuck right into him. You got him ready, he can take it." 

Jason sobs for air, clutches the sheets by Tim's ear with his free hand, and presses in again. Against the wetness, the burning heat of Tim's hole against his cockhead, the slight give and the resistance of how tight he still is. 

A long moment, more pressure. Tim's head tipping back and his body going live in one long, arcing motion, his eyes showing all white as they roll back. His thighs pressing to Jason's sides urging him in, in, until his cunt gives and the tip pops inside. 

Tim keens. Jason makes a low noise, a coarse grunt, his head static. The air moving against the back of his neck is too much. Dick's hand petting up from the small of his back is too much. The little hitching motions of Tim fucking himself on just the tip of Jason's cock, that's too much, too fucking much. 

"That's it," Dick is saying. "Fill him up, Jay, give him your cock." 

Jason presses home in one long, torturous glide. 

Tim is so fucking tight. 

Jason pants wetly, forehead against Dick's thigh, staring at nothing, fighting to be able to breathe through the sensation of Tim's wet, hot cunt stretching so taut around him. He's shaking, trembling under Jason and making little hitching noises that go straight to Jason's belly, and it takes everything Jason has not to pop his knot right there. The need pounds in him to come, to rut into the cunt squeezing his cock, to blow his load as deep as he can. 

The hand in his hair, Dick's fingers so sure and gentle through his curls, that's the only thing grounding him. 

"How's it feel, Timmy?" Dick asks. His voice is dark, pleased, edged with a rumble from deep in him. Jason mouths at the skin by his mouth, clumsy and wet and wanting. It's something, the taste of Dick's skin, but it's not enough and he doesn't know how to ask for more. 

Tim groans. Low and long and broken by Jason's hips hitching a little bit utterly without permission. 

"So fucking good," Tim breathes against Jason's shoulder, and bites down. Sharp fangs digging into Jason's skin, and he jolts again, forces another little noise. "So… fuck—so thick. Feel so good in me, Jay, Alpha." 

The noise Jason makes is pathetic, needy, a reedy little sound so high in his throat and he can't stop himself. He's starting to move without permission, without conscious thought, just gentle little pushes into the wet heat under him. Not even rutting, just grinding his cock into Tim. 

"You're not gonna come yet, are you?" Dick breathes, and he must have bent down without Jason noticing because he breathes it right in Jason's ear, hot and close. He sounds so happy, so dark and sweet and proud of Jason. "You wanna be good, right? Wanna make your Omega feel good? You're gonna fuck him right, Jay, I know you will." 

The noise Jason makes is vicious, punched out of him, and the noise Tim makes when Jason jerks inside him is sharp and pretty. 

Yes, yes he wants to be good, he wants to be a good Alpha for Tim. He wants to be good for Dick, wants to last. Tim's cunt is too good, tight and hot and twitching around him as he pulls back, but he bites down on his lip and doesn't come . 

His Alpha said not to come. His Alpha told him to fuck his Omega well, and he can, he will, he has to. 

He thrusts in and Tim moans low and long. 

Tim is so hot, so wet, so perfect around him and he ruts in again, fucking Tim vicious and desperate. Presses his face into Dick's thigh, into the salt-musk scent of Alpha and holds on. He digs his teeth into his lip, rides the bright spark of pain and holds onto himself. Tim arches up to meet his thrusts, clutching at his shoulders, his back with sharp fingernails and more bright spots of pain. His voice is sharp, wavering and breaking as Jason's knot catches on his rim and then slips through into slick heat. 

"You're going to come in him," Dick whispers. He has been whispering. Jason catches it in thready patches. His voice, as soft and comforting as the hand digging through his curls. "Going to knot him up so good, little bird, know you will, know you're going to fill him up just how he likes it…" 

Tim goes tight and Jason chokes, blind and gape-mouthed and holding his orgasm back by his fingernails. 

"Di- ick ," Tim whines, a petulant tone to his moan. It echoes so strangely in Jason's ears. His knot is swelling, catching on Tim's tight rim, pushing against the silky wet folds of him. He's going to come, he's going to, he can't stop himself anymore. 

"You do like it," Dick laughs and Tim whines again. "You like getting filled up, you like being all full and wet, don't you?" 

"I do," Tim moans, and his cunt opens up for Jason and he catches, slips . Inside. Hot, wet, squeezing around his knot. He chokes, mouth full of spit and a hint of blood, and knows he's going to come. 

Something catches him by the scruff of the neck—

Dick's hand. His mouth in Jason's ear. 

"Come, little wing," he whispers, and Tim's cunt flexes around him. "Knot him up. Knot your Omega up, baby, c'mon." 

And Jason comes, hard and long and relentless. 

His knot blows, forcing past Tim's rim and pressing deep into wet heat. He's growling, sharp and deep in his chest, open mouth pressed against Tim's fangs. Dick's hand is at the nape of his neck, the last thing that's real as he goes under. 

Tim comes. That's the only other thing he's aware of, rutting into him, dragging against Tim's tight rim and spearing back into him as deep as Tim's cunt will let him. His clit trapped against Jason, rubbing through his own wetness, clamping down around Jason, screaming—

He is aware again, eventually. Still tied to Tim, curled around him so Tim's spread wide across his lap, milking his knot in lazy little contractions. He's humming in Jason's ear, little noises of contentment, pleasure. The hands tucked up against his chest must be Tim's. There's a hand in his hair that must be Dick, rubbing slow fingertips from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck and back again. 

"You look good like this, Jaybird." 

Jason tries to say… something. A moan comes out as Tim's pussy goes even tighter around him. He lets his head tip over instead, cheek to Dick's knee. It's warm there, and the smell of him is strong. Alpha arousal and happiness. Jason's mouth is hanging open, he discovers with a fuzzy pulse of embarrassment, and he closes it with the click of teeth. 

"Dick, you should fuck his mouth," Tim says. His voice is raspy and faux-nice. "He's sweet."

Jason bucks, barks out a gritty groan, another little spurt of come into Tim's tight heat. It punches a sharp little cry out of Tim, bowing up under Jason, something between an aftershock and an orgasm as he goes even tighter for a moment. They pant into each other's mouths for a little while, blind and listening to Dick snickering at them. 

"Bossy," Dick teases, ignoring Tim's annoyed little huff to tug so gently on Jason's curls. "Can I, Jay? You have a nice mouth, I'd like to fuck it." 

Jason doesn't buck up into Tim again. He thrusts gently this time, only a few times, dragging a keening whimper out of Tim's mouth, licking after it. His mouth is wet. He really can't stop fucking drooling. 

"Uh," he says, stupid. 

"You can say no," Dick tells him. So kind. 

Like Dick asking to fuck his mouth isn't Jason's oldest fucking fantasy. Like the idea of Tim watching Dick fuck his mouth isn't something he has to force himself not to think about every time he sees them together. Like he isn't right this actual second balls-fucking-deep in Dick's Omega, who's purring like that's the best thing he's ever heard. 

He lifts his head enough to see Dick's face. He feels… he feels fucking insane. 

"My, my fangs," he begins, his words fumbling on his slow, stupid tongue. Betas let Jason blow them, because Betas don't have knots that might get caught in Jason's fangs. Alphas don't want his mouth. 

Dick smiles. So bright, so kind. He cups Jason's cheek and Jason couldn't stop himself from leaning into it if he wanted to. 

"You're thinking too hard, little wing," Dick says. His thumb rubs across Jason's bottom lip, firm. "Let us take care of you, okay? Promise it'll be okay." 

Jason wants it. Soaking in post-orgasm chemistry, strung out on pre-rut, it's an impossible desire to deny. It's nearly impossible to contain the urge to duck his head, press the back of his neck into Dick's hold and beg for him to bite down again. That's his Nightwing, his Alpha. That's everything he's ever wanted, offered to him too easily. 

He swallows that back, tips his cheek against Dick's thigh instead. Still too much but better. Less… obvious. 

"For now," he manages, and Tim purrs. He's limp again, still clenching rhythmically on Jason's knot, his hands loose at Jason's hips, but he butts his head up against Jason's chest. Nuzzles at him, rubbing pleased Omega against his breastbone, sweaty hair catching against his skin. Jason can't stop himself from cupping the back of his head, holding him close, pressing the smell of him into Jason's skin. His Omega. His pleased, cared-for Omega. 

"For as long as you'll let us, Jay," Dick says. He doesn't sound upset. He sounds—

Sharp teeth close around Jason's nipple and he yelps. 

"Jesus, Tim!" he barks, jerking back, shoving his deflating knot deeper into Tim's heat. Come dribbles out against his thighs and stomach and Tim whimpers, hips hitching, and then growls up at him. His pupils are huge, his fangs gleaming, his mouth swollen and pink. He's grinning. 

"Let me play with your tits, Jason," he says. He's still purring, a strange reverberation to his voice. It sounds… very nice. "They're hot. And you're big , I'm really full, I need a distraction, okay?" 

Jason can't breathe. He scowls anyway. 

"I'm not a 'mega," he mutters and Tim rolls his eyes, ducking back to Jason's nipples. He's nicer with his fangs this time but he still latches on, fangs brushing over skin so sensitive Jason flinches, tongue warm and wet and gentle. Jason keeps jolting at the sensation of it, shocky pleasure that lances straight to the base of his cock. 

"No," Dick fills in, fingers falling to Jason's hair. He pets Jason, there's no other word for the way his fingertips scrub through Jason's tangled, sweaty curls. He's laughing but it sounds nice. Like he's honestly amused by something, not like he's mocking Jason. "I know you're not an Omega, Jaybird, you're pumping my Omega full of come literally right now." 

Jason's cock jerks. Tim laughs around his mouthful of Jason's tit. 

"And you're going to eat that come back out of him before you suck me off, aren't you?" Dick asks. Cooing so sweetly, like he isn't spilling filth. 

"Yes," Jason pants, jerking at the motion of Tim's teeth, "yes, yes." 

It takes a little while, lulled between Dick playing with his hair and Tim pressing his fangs into every inch he can reach, before his knot goes down enough to pull out. He tries to be gentle, tries not to tug. 

Tim makes a disconsolate little noise when he slips free, but it sounds more petulant than bereft. He doesn't move other than to stretch, long and pleased. A calf rubs up Jason's side, intentional and oddly sweet. Dick rubs his hip and bends past Jason to kiss Tim. 

It's… sweet. They're sweet, Tim reaching up to touch Dick's jaw with just the tips of his fingers, Dick so careful to prop himself up above Tim without crushing him. Jason watches them, watches avidly the play of muscle in jaw and neck, and it only occurs to him as they're breaking apart to look away. It's… it's definitely weird, he's acting weird, watching them kiss, and there's no way either of them missed it. 

Dick just smiles at him, anyway. 

"Time to clean up your mess," he sing-songs and Jason wants to snark at him, but then he looks down at Tim and the thought is utterly gone. 

Tim lays in a loose sprawl, ruined with pleasure, flushed and sweaty and watching Jason's gaze crawl down his body with half-lidded eyes. 

Jason's half-hard again already, drunk on the smell of his own come, Tim's slick, the faint accent of Dick's arousal. Even so he gives himself a moment to look at Tim. His ribs heaving with his breathing, the whip-sharp muscles of shoulder and bicep into forearm and wrist. The sweat at his hipbone gleaming in the forgiving bedroom lights, the softness of the curls between his legs, the red folds of his cunt. 

The slow ooze of slick and come from him in great pearly drops. 

He drops to the bed and puts his mouth to it in a rush, abruptly desperate, dying of thirst, needing it . Tim yelps, kicks at nothing, arches as Jason's tongue plunges into him. 

He tastes so… 

Jason laps after it in long, dragging licks up Tim's cunt, from his hole to the tip of his clit. 

Tim squirms, bucks, and he locks his arms around Tim's thighs, a hand on his belly to feel the clench of Tim trying in vain to fuck his clit into Jason's mouth. Back to Tim's hole in jabbing little motions, opening him again, feeling how open he is already. Fucked-open from Jason's knot, bitter-salty with Jason's come. 

Tim is begging, he realizes so slowly, drowning in the taste of him and utterly absorbed by the clench of him around Jason's tongue, the hot pulse of him trying to get Jason deeper. His voice filters into Jason's ears like he's underwater. Shameless, babbling begging. 

" Inside," Tim is chanting, pressing with open palms at Jason's face and shoulders, curled up into midair, whole body flexing in the useless effort to force Jason deeper, " deeper, now, now, in me!"  

Jason wants to say something but his mouth is occupied, he wants to give Tim whatever he wants but he wants more to press his tongue in deeper, he wants to see how full he can get Tim with just his mouth. Tim's thighs press to his ears as he tips his head up, presses his tongue deeper, Tim's body becoming another sharp curve bowing up from the mattress. Tim's shaking, still trying to fuck himself, still begging for Jason. 

He can't stop himself from moaning and wouldn't anyway. Tim's cunt is the best thing he's ever tasted, he presses his noises into Tim until those hands return to his head, his hair, pulling and still not quite hurting. 

"Please," Tim sobs. He's gone slack again for just a moment, body giving up, except the pulsing, searching grind of his cunt against Jason's mouth. "Please, I need, Jay." 

"Give it to him," Dick whispers. 

Jason frees a hand, dragging over Tim's hip, his thigh, and lifts his head to press in with a single finger. 

He's still tight. Fucked open but still so tight , and wet and hot, throbbing, whimpers falling from Tim's mouth. His body works against Jason's single-handed grip on him, trying to force that finger in deeper. Jason ignores it and works his tongue against the rim of Tim's hole where the clenching around his finger is forcing slick and more of Jason's come out to trickle over his palm, down his wrist. 

"More," Tim sobs. His voice is broken, his body shaking, and Jason presses a second finger into him and takes his clit into his mouth for a moment to suck, flicking over it with the tip of his tongue. 

Tim bucks and goes impossibly tight around Jason's fingers. 

His hands are in Jason's hair, almost too tight, shaking and hauling him down to grind against his clit. Far away, Jason's cock is throbbing again. Nearly hard again too quickly, tingling with overstimulation as it grinds into the sheets. He ignores it. 

Tim's orgasm this time comes silently, his whole body curling up, a spurt of slick wetting Jason's chin. He shakes, shoving at Jason's head until he lets go of Tim's clit and returns to his hole, lapping at his fingers pressing into it in gentle little licks this time. Tim goes lax at that, gasping for air and dribbling more slick and come, twitching with aftershocks and Jason's tongue pressing in just a little. 

"Think you got him clean, Jaybird." 

Dick's voice. Unexpectedly Dick's hand touches his shoulder, two fingers sliding up the curve of his shoulder blade and lighting up Jason's body like a lightning strike. A whine trickles through his teeth, gritted and bewildered, his nipples suddenly tight and hard and ready, a clenching of his core from chest to cock and hole. His fingers jerk. Tim squeaks. 

Dick's hand cups the back of his neck and gentles him back down against Tim's thigh and Jason eases his fingers free. Tim's up on his elbows, Jason sees through dim, blurry eyes. There are marks in his bottom lip where he must have bitten them, trying and failing to muffle himself. He looks… beautiful, Christ. 

There's enough coherent thought in him to be stupidly proud of those marks. 

"You did good," Dick continues, unapologetic for whatever witchcraft he'd cast on Jason a second ago. He's a blurry, dark shape and a hand reaching past Jason's nose to stroke Tim's cunt with those magic fingers. Tim twitches, muscles flexing under Jason's cheek, but he lets it happen with just a roll of his eyes. "He's so clean!" 

"Say it like that again and you're sleeping on the couch," Tim says, and his hand is on Jason's neck this time. Threading so gently through the hair at the back of Jason's head, easing him up. He follows it faithfully, sitting up on muscles that want to tremble. Every one of Tim's orgasms feel like they've been yanked out of his own body, perfect and shattering. 

"Sorry," Dick says, not sounding sorry at all. He's hovering at Jason's side now, up on his knees. His cock juts out obscenely and now that he's seen it again Jason can't take his eyes off it. It's darker pink, nearly purple at the head, and shiny with precome. He'd been touching himself, Jason can tell, can practically taste it. 

"Whatever," Tim snorts, and lets go of Jason to settle back against the pillows. He's affecting an air of indifference but Jason can see right through him, can taste in the air how sharp Tim's interest is. "I thought you said something about fucking his mouth?" 

"I did." Dick's gaze swings to Jason. Sat on his ass like this, Dick up on his knees, Jason has to look up at him. A perfect view of the darkness of his gaze, the slight unevenness of his grin, the flutter of his pulse going so quickly. "If you're still interested." 

Jason can feel Dick's cock in his mouth already, an echo of something he hasn't had yet. It's thicker than anything he's tried before but it looks so smooth , shinning-wet, so hot and hard to the touch. 

"Um," he manages. "Yes." 

Dick laughs and sits back, head tilting in a relaxed little nod of curiosity. 

"So how do you—"

Jason is on his knees on Tim's bedroom floor before he registers that Dick had been about to ask how… how Jason wants to do it. Suck Dick off. He blinks up at Dick's shocked expression, his wide eyes, feeling himself go hot and red and embarrassed. 

"Told you," Tim murmurs from his lax sprawl against the pillows. He's playing with himself lazily, knees parted to give Jason a perfect view of his hot, pink folds and the red erectness of his clit between his fingers. "He's sweet." 

He sounds so pleased by that. The noise Dick makes is… also pleased. 

He's displayed gorgeously as he shifts to sit on the edge of the bed. Jason can't keep his eyes off it, beautifully proportioned, the hot pinkness to it. The head shines with wetness, a drop of precome trailing down over Dick's fingers as he takes himself in hand. The smell of him is intensifying, his arousal, his precome. Jason licks his lips. 

"You want it?" Dick asks and he still sounds kind but his eyes are glittering. Avaricious. 

Jason nods. 

"Be nice," Tim says reproachfully, but he's pressing three fingers back into himself. 

"I am being nice!" Dick protests, grinning. His eyes haven't strayed from Jason on his knees. "I just want our Jay to ask for my cock nicely." 

Jason should tell him to go fuck himself. He should snap and snarl and he should have challenged Dick already. 

"Please," he pants. It's a garbled mess, stupid and slurring, falling out of his mouth so easily. "Please, let me suck your cock, please." 

"Christ," Dick whispers, eyes somehow even wider. He's flamed red, flushing bright and hot, and another dribble of precome leaks from him. It slides down Dick's cock, shiny-hard, and over his battered knuckles, the silver scars, the blunt nails. "Get over here." 

Jason presses his face to Dick's cock. He'd scrambled forward and Dick had let him, lets him drag his tongue up and over his knuckles, lapping after the droplets of precome, suddenly ravenous. Sloppy, messy, uncaring that his mouth is already sore from Tim's cunt. Dick's cock is silk-soft and it jerks against his lips when he suckles at the slit, chasing the taste of him. 

"So sweet," he hears distantly, Tim's voice so viciously pleased. He hums in answer, in delirious happiness at the praise. 

" So sweet," Dick echoes, panting harshly. There's a hand in his hair, tilting his head back, so gentle. Dick stares down at him. Somehow he's still smiling. "Open up, Jay, let me have that mouth." 

Jason opens his mouth and Dick guides him down, down onto his cock. Past sore lips, dragging over his tongue. Pressing to the back of it for a moment, jerking a gag from Jason before he can get control of himself and open for Dick. 

He's thick, thicker than the Betas Jason's taken before. It stretches him, whites him out, blocks off his air except when Dick rocks back out to let him breathe a little. And then right back in, stuffing him full. A rhythm Jason has no control over. 

His hands fall to his thighs, relaxed and useless, unnecessary. Dick is guiding him. 

"He's, fuck," Dick hisses. His hand is tight in Jason's hair, just on the gentle side of pain, shaking. "He's done this before. Fuck, his mouth ." 

Jason presses to the underside of Dick's cock with his tongue, feels the throb of him, the pulse inside his throat. When Dick rocks back, it smears the taste of him over the back of his tongue and he savors it, the wetness it brings to his mouth. 

"He's good with it." 

Tim again. His voice is tighter, sharper than before, strange. There are wet noises Jason isn't making. 

Jason opens his eyes and sees Tim, blurry through the tears of strain. The three fingers he's fucking himself with, so fast and hard his pretty hole's gone creamy, working his clit with his other hands. When he sees Jason looking he grins, sharp and dark-eyed and wonderful, and parts his legs even more. Displays the whole long, sweet length of him, his hands working himself, the flush of arousal. 

He comes like that, again. Back arching, legs clamping together, mouth going wide. The noise he makes is a tiny little gasp, shaking with the force of it. He comes watching Dick fuck Jason's mouth, blatant and shameless and—wonderful.

Dick's cock twitches in Jason's throat. He's glancing over his shoulder, watching his Omega put on a show for them, and his hand at the back of Jason's throat presses him in deeper. 

"Fuck, you look so good," he murmurs as Tim slumps back to the sheets, boneless, beautiful. Dick looks back down at Jason. "Doesn't he look good, Jaybird?" 

Jason tries to nod, tries to whimper in agreement. Dick's cock gags the noise to a wet choke, turns the motion into fucking his mouth. Dick's breath hisses in and bursts from him in a little snicker. It's mean. It has Jason shivering. 

"Almost as good as you," he coos. His hand guides Jason back up and presses him back down again, letting him have air in little gasps, fucking him long and deep and slow. "You take me so well, you feel so good on my cock. So sweet for me, huh?" 

Another attempt at responding and Jason doesn't know if he's agreeing or protesting but it doesn't matter, Dick's pelvis tips to rock deeper into Jason than before, pressing the slight swell of his knot past Jason's lips to force his jaw even wider. The noise he makes is a gurgle, spit bubbling at the corners of his mouth and threatening to run down his chin. Dick's cock swells his throat, blocks off air, makes the corners of his vision sparkle. 

"He's pretty." 

Tim's voice. Dick grunts in agreement. Jason's eyelids flutter until Dick pulls back out, allowing another desperate gasp for air before he's filled up again. 

"So pretty." Dick's voice is getting rough, tight, hot. "Know you're not a 'mega, Jay, but your fucking mouth . Wanna put a collar on you, that's how good you look taking my cock." 

It's archaic. It's sexist, even, the old Omega collar tradition. A mark of ownership with no place in modern society. It's supposed to be humiliating, putting a collar on an Alpha, a stupid fucking jock hazing ritual, something from cheesy cross-dynamic pornos kept behind the counters in dirty stores down in the Alley. 

Jason is suddenly so blindingly hard he's dizzy with it, thinking about Dick putting a collar on him. He chokes on Dick's cock and forces himself deeper, forces it farther down his throat. 

"You want a collar, I'll give you a collar," Dick pants. He's red-faced and wet with sweat and staring hungrily down at him. Jason looks up at him around the cock in his mouth and just… blinks. 

He wants, he wants, he wants. 

Dick guides him off his cock, dragging across swollen lips, pulling at his sore jaw. Jason whines in protest and tries to take it back, and only stops at a snarl from his Alpha. 

"That what you want, Jay?" Dick asks again, and smacks his cock against Jason's cheek. Hot, heavy, so fucking hard and so wet with spit and precome and the last traces of Tim's slick. Something in him, taut and wanting, rolls over. "You wanna be mine? My sweet Jay, my pretty cockwarmer?" 

Deliriously Jason opens his mouth to say yes. Of course. Yes, whatever Dick wants, whatever his Alpha wants. 

Tim stirs. 

"Ours," he says, so lax and smelling so well-fucked. The scent of happy Omega underlines the entire room, accenting the lazy smile he turns on Jason. "Our Jason. Our collar." 

"Our sweet Alpha," Dick agrees and puts his cock back to Jason's lips. He opens his mouth and Dick presses inside, so gentle and considerate and inexorable hitting the back of Jason's throat and pressing even further in. He opens up for it, more spit slipping down his chin, moaning at the thick weight in his throat until he can't anymore. Until he has to sip air through his nose in little gasps around the cock rocking into him. 

Tim unfurls, loose-limbed and graceful with sated pleasure. He crawls across the bed, lithe and pretty, all hips and shoulders and the tantalizing flash of pretty pink pussy as he slips over the edge to join Jason on the floor. Crowding between Dick's knee and Jason's shoulder, a leg sneaking between Jason's. His cunt is hot hovering above Jason's thigh. Jason's cock aches . 

"If you're going to wear our collar, can I leash you?" he asks, and Jason chokes. Dick doesn't let him up, just holds him in place and lets him gag until he's crying. Tim squirms in even closer and a hot tongue swipes across Jason's cheek, licking up his tears. "My sweet collared Alpha, letting me lead you around?" 

"Christ, Timmy," Dick says, breathless and amused, rocking in and out of Jason's throat. Tim grins against Jason's cheek, fangs flashing. His cunt has settled against Jason's bare thigh, wet and unbearably hot, grinding down against him in lazy circles. 

"You don't wanna watch me take our Alpha for a nice little walk?" he asks and laughs at the noise that wrenches from deep in Jason's chest, muffled and weak around Dick's cock. 

He can… he can imagine it, crawling after Tim's smug, swaying hips, tugged along by the leash and the collar around his neck. Dick watching them do it, watching Jason put through his paces. It pulls something tight and humiliated and aroused in the pit of his stomach, in his chest, something that abruptly wants that very badly. 

"Hurry up and come, I want his knot again." 

"Impatient," Dick tells him, even more amused, though Jason can feel how his cock throbs at Tim's words. "Maybe I want to knot his mouth, huh?" 

Heat drops swooping in the pit of Jason's stomach at the thought of Dick's knot in him, the heat of him forcing Jason's jaw wide, come spurting into him and filling him up—

Right on the heels of that, a rush of fear, cold and tingling up his shoulders and the back of his neck, the damage his fangs could do to a knot. The danger of them so close to Dick, to his knot, to something so delicate. 

Tim is pressed up against him in an instant, almost before the sour smell of Jason's fear filters into the air. Warm, hands smoothing up the backs of his shoulders, the smell of him filling Jason's nose with sweet, soothing Omega. 

"Not this time, Alpha, don't worry," he murmurs, nosing up under Jason's jaw, lips to his jugular. "So good for us, not going to ask you for anything you don't want to give." 

His hand finds Jason's jaw, fingers pressing to his lips, sneaking into his mouth alongside Dick's cock. Prying his jaw even wider but it's a relief, it unlocks the clench of that fear in his chest and he can relax back against Dick's thigh. Look up at him with wet eyes. 

Dick smiles down at him, kind, a little rueful. 

"Not this time, Jay," he agrees. He's stilled his rocking, just a heavy, hot weight in Jason's throat. "Still want to continue? We can stop for a while." 

Jason blinks up at him hazily. His rut is on him, he's in it, the first hot throbs of it are fluttering under his breastbone but it feels so different from what he's used to. None of the irritable, half-crazed anger. None of the hollowness in his gut, the hunger that no amount of fisting his cock or pressing furtive fingers into himself could sate. It's just… relentless heat, restlessness, a thrill of ferocious pride at the smell of pleased Omega and aroused Alpha ground into his skin. 

No, he doesn't want to stop. He wants to go under. 

He shakes his head the little he's able and presses forward, forcing Tim out of the way to take Dick down to the root, until his nose brushes soft hair. The slight swell of his knot rests on Jason's tongue and he does his best to suck despite the spit leaking from the corners of his mouth. 

"Think that's a no, Dick," Tim breathes, apparently not upset about being ousted from his perch on Jason's thigh. There's a wet sound, slow and delicious, that tells Jason exactly how not-mad he is. "Think he wants us to keep going. Such a good Alpha for us." 

Dick laughs, and starts rocking into Jason again. His knot is swelling, nearly imperceptible in Jason's mouth. He smells so pleased, keyed-up and turned on and happy. 

He loves this, Jason realizes dimly, a last gesture towards coherence. He truly, really loves Dick's cock filling his throat and Tim pressed to his back, fucking himself with his fingers hard enough to fill the air with the wet sounds of it. He wants them again, and again, until he's used up and then more after that. He wants them so badly it feels like starvation, and he tugs back on Dick's hand in his hair for the first time to tell them so. 

Dick lets him go easily, trailing a hand down his cheek, still smiling at him so softly, so sweet. 

He opens his mouth and is almost too late to stop himself from saying that he loves them. 

"Use me," is what comes out, so hoarse and ruined and broken. 

The groan Dick gives him is deep, rough, paired with fingers tightening in Jason's hair. Dragging him back to Dick's erection, pressing to sore lips and then inside when he opens for it easily. He's so sore, his jaw so tired, and it feels so good. 

"Fuck," Dick pants. He's rutting into Jason's mouth now, the gentleness replaced with barely contained desperation. "Yeah, little bird, I'll use you, my pretty little Alpha." 

"Ours," Tim hisses. 

"Ours," Dick agrees. The desperation, the roughness, the precome rubbing all over Jason's tongue tells him how close Dick is. His knot is swelling, pressing to Jason's sore lips in little glows of pleasure-pain. "Ours, all ours, fuck ." 

His knot throbs. A spurt of precome hitting the back of Jason's throat, salty and bitter and so good . 

Not an orgasm yet but soon, soon, he'll come in Jason soon. 

"Come in him," Tim whispers. He's hooked his pointy chin over Jason's shoulder, hips moving against him, his knuckles pressed to the small of Jason's back as he fucks himself with them. Jason's surrounded by them, both of them, not a single part of him left unscented, untouched. "I want to taste it, come in him, Alpha." 

" Fuck ," Dick repeats, breathing like a marathon sprinter, and his hand tightens in Jason's hair. He pulls Jason back and Jason lets him, lets Dick's cock slip from his mouth even though he hates it and wants it back immediately. He looks hazily up at Dick, sore mouth hanging open. 

"I'm not gonna knot," Dick says, voice gritty. His eyes are all pupil and his mouth is all feral smile and he smells so good, turned on and pleased to have Jason at his feet. "But I'm gonna come on your face and you're not going to swallow until Tim says so, okay? Got it, Jaybird?" 

Jason swallows and nods. 

Dick feeds his cock back into Jason's hungry mouth. Precome floods him once again, salty and good. His knot is swelling, blown wide enough Jason struggles with it, a groan dragged from him as it pushes past sore lips once, again, and again until his jaw won't open any wider and it just presses to his lips. He can't bob his head anymore, can't move at all, lets Dick fuck into his mouth however he wants. He licks what he can reach, can't fight the whimper at the flood of precome. 

"Soon," Tim whispers. "Soon, he's so close, Jason. Told you he wanted you, he can't keep his eyes off you." 

He can't. He's watching Jason, watching his mouth, hot and hungry. He grins at them, flushed deep red and glassy-eyed and wet with sweat and panting for air, fangs flashing. 

"Yeah," he agrees, "yeah, now— Jason."

The taste of Dick is—

Fuck, fuck , Jason wants to swallow the second it hits his tongue. Salty-bitter, strong, tasting like the scent of Dick made solid. He wants to drink it down, rub it into his cheeks and chest so the scent never fades. He closes his eyes just in time as Dick pulls out, another spurt hitting the bridge of his nose in a streak of heat. 

Tim is whining in his ear, a low noise that throbs with purring. Jason relaxes back against him, the firm heat of Tim's body holding Jason up. More come hits his face, pools in his mouth. He tilts his face up to hold as much of it as he can. 

"Jesus," Dick hisses, cockhead brushing Jason's bottom lip to paint his mouth with one last dribble of come. His mouth is too full to do anything but make a little nasally noise. "Fuck, Jesus. Fuck , you look good with come on your face." 

"Let me see." 

Tim's hands on his shoulders, Dick's knees brushing his arms. They move him, blind and easy. He goes where they put him, turning an awkward and clumsy circle on his knees. Tim's body presses up against his front now. He's being examined, he can feel the prickle of Tim's gaze on his face. 

Lips press to his cheek, and then a hot tongue. It follows the trail of Dick's come across the bridge of his nose, tickles absurdly against his eyebrow, dips down the other cheek before those lips press to his. 

Tim kisses him. Slow and soft. Chaste, for a moment, except for the squelching wetness of Dick's come slicking the way, and then Tim's tongue pressing into his mouth. 

More come spills out. Spills between them, down Jason's chin and throat to drip onto his chest, smearing across Tim as Jason reaches clumsily for him. Tim climbs into his lap eagerly, still licking at his mouth, sucking the come out of him with greedy, impatient noises. Jason's erection is trapped between them, rubbing against Tim's slick mound, bumping against his clit in little flashes of heat. 

"Swallow," Tim hisses into Jason's mouth and Jason does. Swallows the last little mouthful of come that isn't in Tim or smeared between them. "Good boy, so good for us." 

Jason makes a silly, lost little noise. He still hasn't opened his eyes. There's come drying on his face and he knows it'll get into his eyes if he opens them. Tim kisses him. Chaste, again. Just a press of soft lips to his, and gone again. He hasn't moved from Jason's lap. 

Footsteps. Dick's footsteps, even now Jason knows them, returning from—somewhere. He hadn't heard Dick leaving. Tim eases back, out of his lap. 

"Up on the bed, Jay." Dick's voice is soft and his hand on Jason's shoulder is strong, guiding him to stand on trembling legs. Tim helps him, hands at his waist, astonishingly powerful for the size of him. "Let me clean you up a little." 

Jason doesn't whimper at that, at the scared little twist those words make in his chest, but his face must do something. He doesn't… he smells so strongly of his Alpha and his Omega. He doesn't want… 

"Just your face, promise," Dick says, even softer. His hand brushes Jason's cheek and he's guided onto the bed, feeling blindly forward under Tim's urging until he reaches the pillows and he's allowed to settle. "Want you to be able to see, little wing." 

Dick's hand catches his jaw, and then something cool and wet touches his face. He allows it almost without flinching, allows Dick to wipe carefully at his face until his eyes can finally crack open. It's a baby wipe, unscented and gentle on the skin. A quick swipe gets the worst of the drying come from Jason's neck and chest but not everything. Not enough to clean the scent from him. 

That twist is back in his chest. Not sick any longer. Just a little wordless ache. 

"Hi, Jay," Dick says and smiles down at him. Tim is hovering at his hip, supervising with narrowed eyes, but he smiles too when he sees Jason looking. "Just one more thing and then you can rest all you want." 

He takes Jason's cock in hand. 

Jason might scream. He doesn't know. His eyes roll back in his head, his whole body arching forward, hips jerking up to fuck himself into the too-loose circle of Dick's fingers. Alive again, all ease gone, body trembling. 

He needs to come. He needs to come like he needs air. 

"One more," Dick coos, sweet, nearly mean. "Need to tire you out, babybird, so you settle into that rut for us. Just one more." 

The noise Jason makes isn't a denial. It isn't anything, it's just noise , abject and pitiful as his body jerks up into Dick's fist again and again, precome spurting from him not quite enough to slick the way. It hurts and he needs it, he gets a weak hand around Dick's wrist and ruts harder. 

"You can come again, baby, I know you can," Dick says so kindly. His hand merciless on Jason's cock, the other hand squeezing around Jason's knot. He ignores how Jason shakes, whimpering out a plea for nothing that no one listens to. "Just one more, and then we'll let you rest." 

"For now," Tim murmurs, settling in at Jason's side, his face pressing to Jason's neck hot like a furnace. His fangs scrape over Jason's skin in fiery prickles, stinging pleasure that has him twitching towards it and away again. "M'never letting you go, Alpha. All mine now. All our good Alpha, so sweet for us." 

"For now," Dick agrees. His body bending in over Jason is overwhelming, all of Jason straining towards him even as it tries to get away. "Our pretty Jay, you want to be good for us so bad, don't you." 

He does, Jason sobs with how he wants to be good for them. Tight and hot in his core, in his thighs, orgasm dragging out of him an inch at a time. 

"I'm going to use you over and over again," Tim whispers, breath tickling over Jason's throat and collarbone. His hand sneaks down, skimming over the crease of Jason's hip, and clever fingers press gently to the place behind Jason's balls that lights up something behind Jason's eyes. Jason gasps for air. "I'm going to find you on patrol and put you on your knees, would you like that? Use your mouth, tie you down, open you up and leave you there for Dick to find. I think you'd like that, would you like that?" 

His face is wet, his mouth gaping and trying to haul in air that doesn't seem to come. Yes , he wants that, he can imagine—cold Gotham air, ass-up, his pants around his knees and his hands locked behind his back. Mouth full of Tim's slick, face pressed to the gritty rooftop drying tacky and filthy, fingers working him open and then leaving him. Dick's hands later, his cock pressing into him—

"Or maybe we'll both use you at once," Tim continues dreamily, ignoring the whimpering Jason can't hold in, "I think you'd like that. I'll bring the harness just for you. Let you pick the cock we spitroast you with, does that sound nice?" 

His body bows up, suddenly taut, and Dick crows in triumph as Jason comes again. 

He comes nearly nothing, his body clenching fitfully and a bare dribble of come leaking out, his back an arc of muscle and tension and pleasure. It goes on and on, Dick's hand milking him dry and painful, until he's blind and sobbing and blissfully empty. 

Awareness falls away. Time shifts sideways—

—waking breathless, hands curling into claws, fear drumming in the back of his head. 

"Shhh." Dick's hand is in his hair, his scent everywhere, and there's a bundle of warmth in his arms. It squirms, grumbling at the too-tight cling of Jason's hands, and he recognizes Tim's scent belatedly. The hands on his shoulders, his face, soothing him back down. He doesn't know what they're saying but the tone is gentle, unafraid—he's safe. "S'okay, wing, I'm keeping watch." 

His head is on Dick's thigh, Tim tucked against his chest. The room is dim and close, thick with the scents of his Alpha and his Omega. 

The anxiety fades, dies, the sweet lullaby of sleep taking its place. Jason slips back under. 

"'Night, Jay," Tim whispers against the pulse in his neck—

—Jason gasps for breath and finds none. 

"Careful," Tim gasps and his hands are all over Jason, on his hips and his shoulders and his back, "careful, relax for me, c'mon—" 

Tim's cock is so much inside him, he can't stop craning to see the purple silicon disappearing into him. Nearly as thick as Dick, mesmerizing, the glide of Tim's cock and the shine of his leather harness. Tim's hands are so hot and shocking like lightning across his skin and he's so aware of Dick's gaze on him, watching over them, watching Tim's cock pressing into Jason. 

"Relax, gotta open you up for Dickie," Tim pants, his mouth against Jason's shoulder now, wet and hot, "open up for me, Jay, Alpha, open ." 

Tim's cock presses against something wonderful inside him and he whites out again—

—Dick's teeth in the back of his neck, the sharp tang of blood, the zing of an open wound. He's massive in Jason, cataclysmic, overwhelming, all of Jason subsumed and singing and blissful. He hurts in a distant way, aching around the intrusion in him, the faint pain just another pleasure, another part of him claimed. 

"Alpha," his mouth babbles, stupid and slurred and drooling everywhere. "Alpha, Alpha." 

"So good for us," Tim whispers, voice so proud. His hand is in Jason's hair, at his throat, grounding, everything. "So good, Jay, so good." 

Dick growls, his body surging in another ruinous thrust—

—water slops down his front. 

His growls, annoyed, turns his face from his Omega. Tim laughs, holds the water bottle up out of reach, all of him glowing in the morning sunlight, wet with sweat and Jason's come and his own slick. Spread over Jason's lap, naked and triumphant. 

"S'okay, Jay, just water," Tim says and offers the bottle slower this time, tipping it to Jason's mouth when he tilts his head up— 

—thrusting up into something warm, wet, tight, perfect. Tim's hands on his chest, bouncing himself on Jason's cock, chasing his pleasure using Jason with absolute shameless abandon. Jason keens, begging, pleading for permission from his Omega to come. 

Tim doesn't listen, isn't done with Jason yet, his perfect Omega. 

"Wanted this for so long," Tim is panting and the words are meaningless but Jason purrs anyway just to hear Tim's voice, "wanted you since, wanted your knot for forever, Jason ." 

Jason surges up to lick across Tim's throat, across where the scent of his Omega and his Alpha are strongest. Tim gasps, whimpers, his cunt going tighter around his cock. 

"Tim," Jason whispers. His mouth is wet. Tim's throat is wet, with spit and with sweat. The words smear into him. "Omega." 

Tim shudders and gasps and comes when Jason takes his clit between his fingers and tugs once—

—Dick's face above him, hot with arousal, Jason's blood in his teeth—

—"C'mon," Tim is saying lazily, and Dick's fingers are pressing something wet and sweet to his lips, "eat up, sweetheart."—

—and then he is aware again.

It comes slowly.

Awareness blossoms. Cool air against his shoulder, then a faint and pervasive taste of sweetness. Thought returning to him in little sparks, and then more sensation. A hint of pain in his shoulders, and warmth under him. 

Something is moving rhythmically against his cheek. There's gritty stickiness when he squeezes his eyes shut more tightly. A warm contentedness nestles in the pit of his stomach, something lizard-like and thoughtless. Sleep calls out to him. 

His face had been mashed into Tim's stomach, he discovers when he gets enough coordination together to heave himself up on his elbows. 

Tim's out like a light, lips parted on little, nearly imperceptible snores. Curled up around where Jason's head had been, a hand tucked under Jason's pillow. And they're both naked, of course. 

Tim is… gorgeous. 

He's bruised, Jason can see the marks of teeth ringing his tits and collarbones, and the little petals of fingerprints. His mouth is swollen too, still, like he'd had his face fucked just minutes ago, lips red and damp. Hair spills across Jason's pillow, fine and dark. The lashes on his cheeks are a soft, even fan. 

He's… 

Jason's spend is leaking out of him. 

Jason tries not to look down at it, at that sore redness of Tim's pussy and the come drooling out of his well-used hole. He fails spectacularly. He can smell it, the slick and come and fading Omega arousal. And he's not leaking just Jason's come, either, Jason's fever-dream rut-memory can pull up Dick pumping at least one load into Tim instead of Jason's mouth, or… 

Distantly he remembers it hadn't just been Jason's mouth Dick had fucked, clenching down on the soreness of his ass on instinct. Cataclysmically open, full almost beyond his ability to take, split open by his Alpha. The sharp spike of teeth at the back of his neck. 

Jason swallows, harsh and dry. He's getting hard again, somehow, even with the post-rut exhaustion. Despite how sore his cock is, his nipples tight little pangs of pain, his whole body a glow of aching use. He wants to reach out and touch Tim, but the thought of letting himself do it makes him want to cry. 

"Hey, little wing." 

Jason is too tired to flinch. He just looks over his shoulder at Dick, standing in the doorway. 

He's gloriously naked too. Without the blur of rut Jason can really appreciate it properly, all the long clean lines of him. The trail of hair down from bellybutton to cock, the worn squareness of his hands, the set of his shoulders. Even his cock is pretty, a nice pink that makes Jason's mouth water. 

"Dick," he says. 

Dick raises an eyebrow and proffers the mug in his hand. It smells faintly of orange juice. 

"All finished up?" he asks and Jason nods, taking the mug. It is indeed orange juice. Sugars and electrolytes, he remembers, for recovery from extreme exertion. Dick settles gently on the edge of the bed, knee nearly touching Jason's. 

He's… not as dehydrated as he should be. As he's used to being at the tail end of a rut. He's hungry but he doesn't feel like weight has melted off his body like he usually does. It's impossible to eat through the muzzle, and protein shakes between raging fits of anxiety and dumb animal loneliness only go so far. 

They'd wrangled him into eating and drinking, he can vaguely remember that. Dick had— 

Fingertips to his mouth. Something cool and sweet bursting on his tongue. Fruit of some kind. Laughter, all around him. Another flimsy, dreamlike memory. 

"You fed me," he says blankly. 

Dick looks straight up. He's blushing. 

"Uh," he says to the ceiling. "Well. Yeah. Sorry, but okay, in my defense Tim never goes in for the traditional stuff and I've always wanted to, so—" 

"I'm not your house omega," comes Tim's sleepy voice and both of them jump. 

Arms wind around Jason's shoulders a moment later, the sweet smell of contented O filling his nose. Tim's mouth rests against his shoulder. He flinches. Tim ignores it. 

"I have better things to do than sit around being hand-fed, you're going to have to get those urges out somewhere else." 

"Ergo," Dick says with all the cheerful patience of a well-worn back and forth, "Jason. He didn't mind being hand-fed." 

Jason… 

Jason is going to cry. 

He can feel it coming on, the thick mucus feeling of it in his sinuses and behind his eye sockets. The tears burn at the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall if he blinks too hard. It's abrupt, coming on in a handful of seconds. 

He's just—he hurts , inside and out. He's empty, physically, strung-out and wrung-out and used. 

Just like he'd begged for. He got what he asked for. They gave him everything he asked for, all of it, not even just the sex, even the silly times when what he needed was to lay across them and stare at the door and window by turns, keeping them safe. 

He stands up. Tim's arms fall away. He blinks up at Jason, sleepy. He's rumpled, pink, the softest Jason's ever seen him. Disturbingly unguarded. 

"I need a shower," Jason announces, and hurries away before either of them can say anything else. 

God, yeah, he hurts. But he's used to being in pain so much worse, after his ruts. It's only the sting in his chest that's any different. 

He shuts the bathroom door and locks it and stuffs one of Tim's stupid, bougie towels into the crack. For a little bit he considers trying to heave the solid white-painted shelving unit in front of the door, but gives that up as perhaps a little too dramatic even for him. So instead he turns the shower all the way to its hottest setting and stands in the middle of the too-big bathroom and waits. 

His reflection stares at him in the bathroom mirror, going slowly blurry at the edges. There are faint shadows under his eyes and his hair is a tangled rat's nest, but he's looked worse. 

There are bruises ringing his neck. Bite marks, hickies. Lurid, crimson and purple, sized perfectly to two mouths. It would probably be embarrassingly easy to get perfect dental imprints of both of them off Jason right now. 

He turns his head to look at the back of his neck from the corner of his eye. 

Red scratches and three little band-aids. 

Four or five puncture wounds, he discovers when he peels them off. Marks from Dick's fangs. He hadn't been as careful with them as Tim. But they're clean, almost no inflammation. Jason can't remember it, but one of them must have cleaned and bandaged them sometime in his rut. 

He imagines that. The antiseptic wipes, the band-aids. Maybe he'd been asleep, trusting their hands on him enough to sleep through even that. 

The tears aren't coming. Stubborn fucking things. 

Eventually the mirror fills up with steam and he gets bored of sitting there feeling sorry for himself and turns the temperature down a little, stepping in and beginning the arduous process of cleaning all of the body fluids off himself. Tim's slick is dried into his hair, and he's still leaking Dick's come from his ass, and his own come is crusting on his thighs and in his pubes. 

Disgusting. Really, really gross. 

He does feel a little better when he finally steps out of the shower, wrapping another one of Tim's stupid fluffy towels around himself. Nothing short of a full-body dip in some industrial acid is going to get the scent of the two of them off him for a long while, but at least he feels less crusty. He's more in control of himself. 

He opens the bathroom door and both of them are waiting for him, up against the wall opposite the door like the world's strangest perp lineup. 

Dick is doing a handstand and at the door opening he hastily topples back to his feet. Tim has his arms crossed over his chest, chin down, but his head shoots up the second the hinges creak. Both of them are pink-cheeked and much filthier than Jason is. 

Jason's control is… fraying. 

"Christ," he says blankly, all he can think to say. "You two are a mess." 

Tim has the decency to flush but Dick just dances back and forth from one foot to the other. His cock swings with the motion, which is—distracting. 

Jason is very tired. He's going to have to go home and try to sleep alone with all of his instincts screaming at him that he isn't safe despite the security he worked very hard with his own two hands to install, and he's pretty certain his night terrors are going to come back for a little bit. They always do after a breakup. 

This isn't a breakup. He shakes his head once to clear it. 

"You shouldn't leave yet," Dick blurts. 

Tim throws a look at him that he misses but Jason sure doesn't. It's unreadable but it… it isn't positive . 

"Uh," Jason says. 

"Let us feed you," Tim says. 

It could be polite, it sure comes out sounding like it is, but Jason has enough experience with Tim to know that it isn't a request. Tim is exactly enough of a freak to crawl in Jason's bedroom window in the middle of the night if he thinks that's the right thing to do. Tim isn't great at listening when it comes to the people he cares about. Bruce Wayne's best protège, in all the worst ways. 

Jason's so tired. He's so tired and that scooped-out dull emptiness is spreading from his chest down into his stomach. 

"You don't need to do this." 

Both of them go still. 

"It was a rut," Jason continues. His mouth is weirdly numb. "Just… Like, thanks, but I think I should just go. I've got shit to do, and I know you do too." 

Dick's face is doing something. Tim's has gone, somehow, even more still. 

"So," Jason says uselessly, running out of the little bit of energy he'd managed to pull together in the bathroom. He wants to lay down. "I'm gonna head out." 

He manages to get all the way to the end of the hall before he remembers he's technically naked. 

Dick has followed him, he discovers when he turns back around. His hands are open, palms forward at his side, and he's wearing that stupidly earnest look on his face that jerks at something in Jason's chest. Utterly shameless. Like it doesn't matter at all that in the better light coming from the living room window, Jason can see two bright puncture wounds in his shoulder. Not infected, they must have been cleaned too, but ringed in livid bruising. 

He'd let Jason bite him, like it wasn't a stupid, dangerous thing to do. 

"Little wing," Dick begins. 

"Stop it." 

It isn't Jason that says it. It isn't him and he jolts, mouth open, because he'd been just about to say it. 

It's Tim's voice. 

Tim hasn't moved from where Jason had left him, standing across from the bathroom door. He hasn't even turned his head. He's a statue, a beautiful work of art, his hands bunched into white-knuckled fists where his arms are crossed. His nakedness hits Jason all over again. The bruises where Dick or Jason or both had gripped his hips too tightly stand out starkly in the low light. 

"Tim," Dick begins, and Tim's head turns. 

His face is a mask, bloodless and expressionless and his eyes glittering slits of violence. Jason falls back another step, hands coming up instinctively. 

"Let him go," Tim says. There's violence in the cadence of those three words. His voice is cold and vicious and only shakes a very little bit when he draws in a breath. "If you're going to go, then go." 

Jason opens his mouth. He's not sure if he's even trying to talk. He's… he's blank? Shocked. Wiped clean by surprise except for that twist in his chest in the midst of all that hollowness, sharp and getting sharper with every word Tim says. There's the scent of something sharp and sour like ozone building in the air. 

"I'm not stopping you." Tim spins on his heel to face them at last. "We're not going to stop you from leaving for whatever's so fucking important." 

"Tim," Dick repeats, more quietly, and Tim looks at him. The white bloodlessness is fading, there's a flush building high on his cheeks, hectic and harsh, and his eyes—his eyes are suspiciously bright and there's a lurch in the pit of Jason's stomach, a feeling of impending, foreboding something —

"Tim—"

"Stop it," Tim snaps. It's so quiet in the apartment, despite the harsh pant of their breathing. "Stop it, I just— fuck ." 

His head turns sharply to the side, away from them both, fangs bared, and Jason flinches back even though Tim hadn't made a single motion towards them. He's just standing there, fangs bared in a very obvious threat display, hands quivering fists at his side. 

He can taste that smell now, the fullness of it finally reaching him. Sharp and chemical on top, like ozone, and a base note of sweet rot. The stink of distressed O is rolling down the hallway. Filling the space an inch at a time, thick and pungent and choking. 

"If you want to go so badly, go." The words hiss out of Tim. They come out garbled through his fangs and the flex of his jaw. "We don't, so just—we don't need an Alpha that doesn't want us, okay? So go ." 

" Tim ." 

Tim doesn't flinch at Dick's voice, at the growl in it. He just falls silent, lip still pulled back over his teeth. He's growling low and subaural, his feet are spread wide and planted. It would be a great defensive stance, if he weren't blinking rapidly. His eyes are glassy. The smell of him is getting stronger and stronger, dizzying. 

Jason can't breathe. His heartbeat is pounding in the base of his skull. It doesn't… nothing makes sense and the air isn't carrying oxygen, just the rotting scent of an Omega in pain. 

"Tim," Jason manages. 

Tim blinks again and a tear slips down his cheek. 

There is something very wrong happening to the space in Jason's chest. It feels like a slow-motion car crash, or a dam breaking, something cataclysmic like that. 

"You don't," he tries, and fails to finish the sentence. Manages to pick it back up, somehow. "You can't think I don't want you. There's no way." 

"Sure you want to fuck us," Tim says coldly. He makes no move to wipe away the tear which is, horrifically and miraculously, even worse than if he'd tried to hide it. "But I don't need an Alpha that won't stay." 

"Baby," Dick says, taking a step towards Tim. He freezes at Tim's snarl, hand outstretched. 

Jason stares. 

Rut memory is the memory of a fever dream, unreal and hallucinatory. It's just flashes, moments suspended in a long stretch of warm, red madness. Even so, there's a faint memory itching at him. 

—wanted this for so long, wanted you since—

Since when? 

That cataclysmic feeling is sinking deeper in him, down into the pit of his stomach, pressing cold sweat out at the back of Jason's neck. It's not like… it's not like he doesn't want Tim, or Dick. He's not stupid and he's certainly not blind. He's just realistic about his chances. 

He.. he thought he'd been realistic about his chances. 

He'd thought he wasn't stupid, but now it's occurring to him to question how hard Tim went in on getting him into his nest, out of his muzzle. He's remembering now how Tim had told him Dick wants him too, apparently bad enough to knot thin air like a teenager. Their hands on him, how eager they'd been to fuck him, and how gentle they'd been with him anyway. 

Tim is starting to growl. 

The growl rises in pitch, louder when Jason steps forward. Steps carefully around Dick, palms out and forward, ignoring Dick's hissing warning. 

He goes to his knees a few feet from Tim, who's still standing there, still-faced and vicious, his hands white-knuckled fists trembling at his sides. The smell of him is strong enough to sting Jason's sinuses, rotten and sour. Jason wants to crawl out of his own skin, he wants to take off running, but… but there's a conclusion he can't stop himself from coming to, no matter how many times he works through it in his head. 

And he isn't a coward. 

"You're wrong," he says, very clearly. 

Tim is very quiet for a moment. A beat of genuine shock. Dick is edging closer, Jason can hear him doing it, but Tim takes up all of Jason's attention. The weight of him, his scorned anger, has a gravitational pull. 

"I'm wrong ," Tim repeats acidly. 

His voice has gone flat. Dangerous. 

"Yeah," Jason says and flinches at the hiss Tim makes at that. His lips are skinning back from his fangs and his hands are curling into claws. "Yeah, you're wrong." 

"Jason," Dick says, tone warning, as if Jason isn't very fucking aware Tim's a few seconds from mauling him. Both Jason and Tim ignore him. 

"I didn't just wanna—" Jason says, and his voice fails. His eyes drop. He can't help it, can't keep his gaze up. He can't look at Tim. His face is hot. For a moment his teeth grind together before he can pry his jaw back open. His mouth feels clumsy and he tongues at a fang, just once. "You're not just a fuck to me." 

In the wake of that, Tim is silent. The subvocal growl has faded. Even his breathing has disappeared. 

Jason peeks up at him. He's statue-still, it turns out. Staring at Jason, his expression strange. He's not breathing. He's not even blinking. 

"Jason," Dick repeats. He's edged his way to Jason's shoulder, hand out like he thinks he can throw himself between them if Tim goes for Jason. He won't be fast enough. Jason's fought Tim often enough to know that much. "Little wing, you should… maybe you should explain?" 

He's looking down at Jason too and his expression is somehow even harder to look at than Tim's had been. An open, honest pleading. The blue of his gaze is deep and clear and too real. There's too much there. Jason looks down at the floor again, and then up at Tim. 

Still not fucking blinking. Jason looks down at the floor again. 

"My Omega," he says to Tim's fashionably stain-resistant carpeting. "That's, uh. What I wanted. My 'Mega and my Alpha. I wanted… you to be that. To me." 

Breath erupts from Tim in a sudden, explosive whoosh , and then he's rushing Jason. 

Jason has enough time to rear back but not enough time to scramble away before Tim is on him, over him, body impacting his and rocking him backwards. He panics for a second, battling the arms around him, trying to shuffle away from the flash of teeth, before he registers the keening sound Tim is making low in his throat. 

He stops fighting and all at once, a flash of déjà vu, Tim is in his lap again. The towel is gone, knocked askew, and they press skin to skin. Tim's hands cup Jason's face, smoothing down his shoulders, back up his torso to do it all over again. 

A hot tongue finds his mouth and then he's being kissed, deep and filthy and wet. 

A weight settles behind him. Hands cupping his shoulders, broader and heavier than Tim's. Dick, pressed to his back, the whole length of him. Hot and soft, his arms winding around the two of them to press them close. 

"Jay," Dick whispers in his ear. He smells just like he had before, like he had during Jason's rut, like home. Like safety. Like pleased, happy Alpha. 

"Alpha," Jason answers, muffled by Tim's mouth. 

"We need to talk about this," Dick says, plastered against Jason's back, muffled by how he can't stop mouthing at the back of Jason's neck. It's dragging a purr out of Jason he doesn't think he could stop even if he wanted to, stuttering as he sobs for air. 

"Later," Tim insists against Jason's mouth. He's squirming in Jason's lap, rubbing himself against every inch of Jason he can reach, wet mouth smearing across Jason's. The smell of distress is faint and fading fast and the sweet smell of contented O replaces it, soaking into Jason's skin. He's clutching at Tim's hips, his thighs, his ass and if he presses on bruises Tim doesn't complain. 

"Later," Jason promises in the sliver of time when Tim pulls away to lick across Dick's mouth over his shoulder. "Later, oh fuck , promise."