Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dammit.

The last hit was a good one. Better than he obviously fucking anticipated (the guy usually with all the plans? Well, sometimes, he might get just a little overwhelmed when he’s been ducking and dodging a slew of crazy Bats. You know, self-preservation and such) because the owfuck? That shit is real.

But if there’s one thing he knows about crazy guys with guns? If they’re seriously out of options, they tend to make very stupid command decisions.

The jewel thief yells out and literally takes his sweet damn time to fist pumps when he catches the spray of blood arching from the Red Robin suit; the whirlybird to the face and subsequent TKO is pretty much the result of not watching out. Red doesn’t even feel bad. He even takes the unnecessary ten minutes to string the guy up from a lamp post with a sign for the police. He cleans up any spilled blood he can spot before it’s time to be out. The tourney would only keep the flesh wound achy until he could actually do something about it.

He ducks down the side alley of a nice little Italian place in New Jersey, making his way through a gap between slats before he fires the grapple instead of taking the rickety iron works (New York is the worst for upkeep, you know) to the roof, landing at a crouch, holding the spot on his side under the ribcage that is just thumping a pulsing red in the back of his brain pan.

A few swings, and he’ll be at his maintained safe house here in the Big Apple and can realistically do something about it.

The vibrating against his harness is just a nice little alert he may or may not have set up approximately 91 hours ago after he left two exhausted Alphas in his Perch, and he actually groans out loud, slumping in on himself a little even as his eyes dart to his immediate surroundings behind the whiteouts.

The device he cobbled together pings when it hits Bat-tech, looking for familiar signatures only someone with an inside peek could have calibrated; thus he’s been able to stay a step or two ahead of the game, keeping out of Bat reach long enough to get his head together after a very prolonged Heat that probably should have killed him outright.

If not for some people who are just want to help out an O in need—because Alphas have that instinct the second they pick out the scent.

Revealing himself to the family with a big surprise, I’m a male Omega that hasn’t had a Heat in over two years was really not how he’d wanted them to know. When the needs of his body finally overcame the scent blockers he’s worn the large majority of his life and the suppressants finally filtering out, the oh shit, panic button is why Dick Grayson met him at the Tower and refused to leave. When it became apparent Heat Mania was probably still going to kill him, Jason Todd rode in to his rescue.

Because, you know, Alphas do that shit for dying Omegas.

And the span of 91 hours he’d come to that comfortable conclusion. Just Alphas trying to get him back to the family making sure he lives long enough to do so. It didn’t make him any more happy about the situation, didn’t make it any better because there were some lectures and who knows what else waiting for him when (if) any one of them finally catches up to him.

Or, he could be worrying for nothing, really. Once they found out, once he got through Heat with the stamp of that guy’s aliveapproval, they might just have decided he could fuck off after all (who wants a defective Omega anyway?)

(“—strong, brave, and fucking beautiful—“)

(“—want it all, Pretty Bird. Gonna keep ya right where ya belong, where ya always shoulda been—“)

(gentle hands washing him, feeding him, holding him, taking him)

Don’t be a dumb ass. Alpha. Instincts.

So…he may have just left Dick and Jason to sleep it off in his Perch once he was lucid enough to realize what the fuck he’d let happen. And since there’s always crime time going down somewhere, it had been easy enough keeping himself out of range and pretty much in Black-Out mode from everyone. It gave him enough time to moan about the whole ordeal, get his head right about it, and be able to face any one of them without backing down.

Not giving up the cape

Not getting a desk job with O

Don’t need your pity or “care”

The spleen is still gone but thanks for looking out

Because the little reveal he hadn’t planned on could be the quintessential game-changer—months of getting better with the Bats could just mean fuck all if they really were just placating him the night his Heat hit and the slow, subtle push toward the “less dangerous” end of crime fighting would start. If B had a special system set-up in the Batcave with more and more I need you coordinating instead of in the field—if that shit started happening, it would be time to run.

(How is that any different than what you’re doing right now?)

…

There’s that, isn’t there?

All of it just meant he needed to get back out there and step back into the Mission, to keep his head occupied with taking down evil baddies while still proving he’s good, he’s had his own back for a while (remember?) and suddenly being an O isn’t going to change that shit.

He’d been over in Honduras, to search out some drug smugglers and kept moving on the down-low to end up back in New York City—a little too close to Gotham for his peace of mind.

But, hey, that’s what the Bat-tech radar is for.

And still holding his injured side, he pats himself on the back for the foresight before he’s on his feet again, moving to the next rooftop.

While he runs, leaps, flies, he listens for the subtle noises: a grapple re-firing, the pad of booted feet, the groan of ironwork when weight is introduced, any kind of lull in the normal night sounds of the city, anything to give him clues.

The building where his safe house is located gives the final one:

Through the window he sees shadows moving, a flash of blue (finger stripes in his mouth) and the glint off red metal (those hands taking him apart). His heart slams painfully against his chest, his body automatically reeling back from the two Alphas he had fully, totally submitted to. The Alphas that were the only ones capable of making him bend. He’d spent a majority of his life fighting his inner instincts to go soft and pliant under the attention of an Alpha, but since he’d submitted to them willingly, completely…he had no idea what they could realistically do.

The fear of not knowing, the fear of finding out the hard way makes his adrenaline kick up a notch, and he turns to run.

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He’s not running.

Necessarily.

Because vigilantes don’t do shit like that, right?

Not. At. All.

(Except when they are)

The comm in his ear beeps once before the click over, and he holds his breath because only O could hack through his security to change his frequency away from the Titans. She’d do it if B asked or if–

(Alpha)

Nightwing

(the Alpha he’s been avoiding since, you know, the whole HEAT-Mania-almost-killed-me ordeal. Come to think of it, the texts from Hood were along the hit-me-back-or-else vibe)

“You saw us, didn’t you?”

The low voice in his ear (one that sounds dangerous in the way that has nothing to do with bad guys and the good fight) makes a shudder run up his spine, bite down on his lower lip so he doesn’t make some kind of noise. It feels too much like an Alpha male in his prime calling out for the Omega that submitted to him.

(Which is exactly why he’s hiding out in DC rather than New York)

Like he can’t control the Omega deep in his belly starting to unfurl, starting to stretch, his pulse picks up and the purr rolling through his body and up his chest is stifled behind his hand.

“I know you can hear me.”

He clamps the hand down harder, tries to keep breathing steady and quiet, swallow around the lump in his throat. The work table holding his gadgets and laptop gleams in the lamp light, the motherboard he’s working on still right there in front of him. At the sound of Dick’s voice, he’d automatically stopped just to listen.

(Well, fuck)

“Whatever…Tim, whatever you think is going to happen, whatever you’re afraid of, I can promise you, nothing is going to change. I’m not going to…force you into anything, okay? I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t do that, Omega or not.”

Slowly, gingerly, he puts the motherboard back down, breathing easier through his nose enough to take his hand away and uses his brain, listening closely for sounds in the background, tries to place where Dick could possibly be.

“And I know you don’t want to hear this–”

His muscles twitch, lock down, a bite of fear, of anxiety, of what could be next –

“–but I’m sorry, so sorry, I didn’t figure it out before. You’ve been on suppressants since I gave Dami the mantle of Robin, right? You haven’t let yourself go into Heat since then. I’m not making excuses, but I was too worried at the time to focus on it, to think about it too much–”

He can hear Dick swallow something down, hear the low voice get hoarse and ragged.

“– because all that time in between, you were alone and fighting what you needed, that I wasn’t there to take care of you. You went on suppressants instead of being able to rely on your pack, and that’s…Timmy, that’s so wrong, and I will take all the blame for it. I was a bad brother and a bad Alpha to you, and I’m sorry, baby. God, I’m so sorry.”

It’s terrible how those things hit him in just the right way to make his eyes a little hot and his fists into weapons, to make him want to snarl at how he didn’t need that shit and then lay in a heap of crying Omega (because finally Pack) in the same fucking breath.

(And he hadn’t realized until now how hearing it, hearing those words was some crazy switch that needed to be flipped)

“But after you left–” after you left us, left me “–I couldn’t stop thinking about it, running everything in my head over and over, trying to see the signs I missed the first time because I was just…I was just trying to get through another night in that cowl.”

He’s frozen in his seat, listening to the rise and fall of Dick’s voice, staring at the stupid reproduction Water Lilies while his heart pounds and his chest aches.

“One time you yelled at me, remember? How I couldn’t even look you in the face? That’s how you knew it was over. You said…you said I didn’t even see you anymore, and,” a sigh deep enough to hear over the comm and all the weight in it, “you were right. I didn’t. I didn’t see you. I didn’t give you what you deserved. You trusted me, and even if I said, if I did and still do mean it, that we were equals, I didn’t prove it to you.”

Fucking dammit. What is even happening right now?

His hand goes back to his mouth, starts to try that breathing exercise all over again, closes his eyes and keeps himself from shaking.

“And I know we’ve gotten better since then, Timmy. We finally starting working together again, and it wasn’t so painful and awkward. I finally seemed to be doing something right with you, then your Heat struck and all of it just went to hell.”

It’s crazy how he almost laughs out loud because no shit, really?

But Dick does it for him, a very similar, sarcastic ha-ha shivers over the connection, “Some detective I turned out to be, right? I didn’t even put it together, Tim, not until now. I was focused on the moment again, just being there for you so the Mania wouldn’t break. It never occurred to me you hadn’t gone down for so long because you didn’t feel safe and because you didn’t have a Pack anymore, not in your mind anyway.”

Easily, gingerly, he leans back in his chair, calm, shaky breath out through his fingers because this was ancient history. So what if everyone kept dying and shit around him? So what if he took it a little hard, losing Robin at a time when he pretty much had nothing else left.

(Last one left standing, of fucking course.)

None of it could touch him anymore, Dick. You’re barking up the wrong tree.

“When I realized you’d taken a plane out of the Tower while we were still in your bed, I was angry, soooo angry at you, Tim. You left meafter we shared something so close, so important. I got to take care of you again, and it…it made me so happy. I wanted to keep holdingon to you, to finally get to be a good Alpha. But I…Timmy, I didn’t even realize how hard it must have been for you to trust me, to let me touch you like that, no matter how good it felt or how much you needed it.”

The laptop screen flickers, the results popping up for his tracers on the side job that’s going to lead him right to the next baddie on his list. Something here that could be a choice.

“And I don’t regret being with you, Timmy. Never that, but I pushed my way in, and I didn’t get to earn your trust as your Alpha and your friend first. But…”

The low drop, something closer to the growl still vivid in the things I will never forget folder in his brain, makes his eyes stray away from the longitude and latitude he should be committing to memory.

Since that’s where he should be packing to go.

Like now.

Maybe more like right now.

(If he wasn’t half mesmerised by the cadence of Alpha’s voice.)

“I want to hold you like that again, take care of you however you need it. Not just in Heat but as my pack, Tim. You’re mine to care for, and – and I want to. So, so much. Not because of that word, not completely. Not because you’re an Omega and I’m an Alpha. It’s not some blind instinct.”

At that, his fingers twitch toward the comm, almost hit disconnect, and deal with the repercussions later (because he does and doesn’twant to hear it, does and doesn’t want to know).

“Partly, it’s because I’m attracted to strength. Headstrong, smart, beautiful, all of those things are my weakness. You know that, right?”

His face might get a little hot, and he might shake his head a little, still keeping a hand over his mouth so Dick can’t hear him laughing.

“So…I’m not done. Not even a little bit, but it’s cold out here, and I’d much rather do this over a cup of coffee, so I’m hoping you’re going to come to the window and let me in.”

Say what now?

In a breath, Tim is standing, spinning around on his heel, stalking over to shove the curtains back on the window in the room.

Standing less than one hundred yards on the next building’s fire escape, the tall figure in the shadows is looking back at him with warm, dark blue eyes.

No masks, no mouth-watering body suit. Just Dick Grayson, Alpha male, in jeans, a t-shirt, and jacket, holding the comm in his ear with two fingers.

Well, fuck. 

Tim’s eyes dart back to the computer screen with coordinates ready to go and the next case on his list queued up for a little detecting, but slowly slide back to the Alpha now standing on the fire escape across the alley staring back at him.

“Coffee, Tim. If you don’t run, you’ll get coffee.”

And if anyone ever asks him exactly why he finally made a choice and unlocked the window, pushed it up instead of turning around to get ghost, well, he’s going to say it’s all because of coffee.

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Lol, babe. It would be horrible if Dami and Jon started low-key trying to court Tim under Dick and Jay’s nose. Like, we’ll the kiddos up a bit and make it before any mating marks, when it’s those three just being on the down low.

Dami’s attitude has been changing for years, so it’s not suspicious when he starts bringing Tim in on his cases more, tries spending more time with the Omega, even doing the usual kind of things, making sure Tim eats, sleeps, doesn’t bleed out, etc. He just gets a little more pushy about it. 

“Honestly Drake. The bags under your eyes are darker than your cape. It is time for bed. Immediately.”

“Are you fucking kidding with me here, Demon? We’ve got a shit ton of dick-muffin bag guys all of the city–!”

“They will still be there when you wake up!” And since Dami’s older, bigger, more built like Bruce, he gives no shits about throwing the sleep-deprived Red Robin over a shoulder and wrangling him down long enough to make sure he passes out. 

Jon is pretty shy about it at first, flying up to Wayne Towers while Tim is in CEO mode, bringing him coffee and donuts or bagels, taking a few spare minutes of the boss’ time before important board meetings. 

He might happen to swing by Titan’s Tower when a call goes out and he knows Red will be leading the team against the baddie of the week.

“Well, well Superboy. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh? Ah, just, you know, helping save the day. I’m going to be crazy hungry after this, so maybe we could get a bite to eat once you’ve de-briefed?”

And with the promise of Subway looming in his future, Tim is in civvies chowing down on a steak wrap like his life depends on it (only he invites the whole team, so it’s everyone eating in a small ass Subway while Jon kind of wilts).

I mean, all the shenanigans Dami and Jon would pull (because Dami is certain they could convince Tim to be their Omega rather than Todd and Grayson. He and Kent would treat him so well, would take care of him whenever he needed, like good Alphas should) trying to woo Tim away, just omg. 

Dami is a sneaky little shit and Jon is so adorably sincere.

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You know, I think before Dami hits his first Rut, Tim would be closer to the Pack than he’d been in recent years. By the time Robin is twelve, he’s used to picking up the scent in the Cave, the Manor, and flops all over the Pack Omega when no one else is around. If Tim’s in the library, Dami will have a cup of coffee to offer. 

They’re at the point where sleuthing together is a thing, and movie nights with the Pack happen at least once a month. They’ve been introducing Dami to Disney flicks, the good ones. Jay talks him into seeing the beauty of Kronk from “The Emperor’s New Groove” and why Moana is really the best of the best.

None of them probably realized how crucial it would be to the Pack dynamic to bring the Omega, older and wiser, back into the fold. None of them probably realized what it would do for Tim Drake, to be caught in the middle of cuddle piles and in on their family meetings via Skype. 

He’s calmer when he’s at the Tower now, eats more, sleeps more, tells his team when he’s got an injury. It’s in the way his shoulders relax when B’s heavy hand falls there, or Dick just literally lays over him. It’s in the way his hands move almost automatically now to the back of Dami’s neck to rub out the tension when their Robin looks like he’s had a bad night. It’s in how he pretty much caves the second Cass sits and pats her lap with one hand. It’s the silly Snapchats with Steph and the check-up calls with Alfred. It’s how he took his place back without even trying hard.

So of course, when Dami finally presents shortly after he turns 13, it happens because Tim’s in the Cave, pacing and ranting with his suit unzipped, sweaty and dirty from a spectacularly shitty night with the Titans AND in Gotham. It’s when the scent blockers weren’t reapplied after patrol because Tim’s at home here. He’s safe. 

It’s a hint of mouth-watering sweetness suddenly making the youngest vigilante pause. The change is frighteningly fast, one moment Drake’s scent made him feel warm, safe, needed…the next, it makes him look at the plump bottom lip, and the flex of thighs; it makes his hands clench in the glove and some need buried deep to spill up and out of his mouth in the form of a soft purr.

And even if Tim would probably never admit this:

The sound reverberated through the Cave, makes him catch a breath, makes a thrill of something shoot up his spine.

It’s only the two of them, Dami still half in Robin, slumped in B’s chair in front of the big computer while Tim has frozen mid-rant. His eyes are all dark with hints of violet, and the arrant thought of other ways he could make Tim’s eyes dilate like that, could make the Omega bite down on his bottom lip, could make him arch his back, work his hips. How Dami could make him want.  

“Baby Bat?” He tries to keep it light, to take a strategic step back when the spike in musk is deep and full between them, and God he almost has to cover his nose because it makes him shudder.

And well, they’re vigilantes Bat-Gran, so when the teenage Robin stands from the chair, his muscles noticeably tense, his eyes narrow and predatory, moving like he’s stalking prey. 

He’s still a little shorter than Tim, not by much, but he takes up all available breathing room, putting them almost, almost close enough for their chests to touch, those green eyes glittering up at him with a recognizable type of heat.

An aborted twitch of Dami’s hand (just to feel Tim’s neck against his palm, to tighten down, to watch him submit, to feed him, pleasure him, care for him… all things to be a good–

Ah. 

The realization probably makes Robin take a fucking breath. The moment of truth has finally come, and the question of his orientation is suddenly no longer just that. 

He forces himself to see the rationality behind it, fighting against his instincts suddenly rearing up to whisper sweet things like take, fuck, own. He tells himself transitioning into an Alpha male comes with hormones, of course he would react to the scent of an Omega. One close to Heat, one in need of food and care and sleep–

Damn.

“It’s…I apologize, Tim. It has been a long night, and we are both exhausted. I am calling it a night, and you should do the same. We will start again tomorrow.” A deep breath and Damian can make himself take a step back, then another. He pulls his cell out of his utility belt, because Tim is Grayson and Todd’s, and have been the most successful thus far keeping their Omega out of trouble. 

(And because it keeps his hands busy, keeps him from reaching out, keeps him from palming the back of Tim’s neck, squeezing down until his predecessor relaxes into it, can be so sweetly dazed–)

“That’s a good call,” Tim has to clear his throat when the musk gets less intoxicating, less in-your-face. “Everything will look better after some sleep.”

Dami’s dark eyes blink up at him, and the younger opens his mouth, is going to say something that could have been anything from ‘do not leave the city before you have had some sleep’ to ‘I have not stabbed anyone in weeks, where is my gold star?’ 

But a sound breaks the awkward moment, the new awakening they both know just happened, but are terrified to bring it closer to the surface. 

Tim breathes a sigh of utter relief, pats the top of Dami’s head with a slightly shaky hand as he strides by, moving to get his vibrating cell phone out of his harness. The text from Dick is full of emojis and a questionable “10 min Timmerz” that makes him hike an eyebrow.

(He texts Alfred and B upstairs, a fast “Get down here. Baby Bat is hitting the Alpha Train and I smell like fresh meat.”)

Turns out he has ten minutes before the two Alphas are padding down the winding staircase already in post-patrol pajamas and ready to get their Pack Omega in a nice, soothing bath before they cuddle him to sleep.

B is right on their heels, coming to ruffle Dami’s hair, and give him a grumbling hug, his Beta easing the Alpha instincts, makes it easier to think. Jay is looping an arm around his back, pulling him toward the Manor proper while Dick sneaks off to wrap himself around Dami and nuzzling into his neck. Something fond and soft is said between them and B, how proud Dick is, how he’s always going to be here if you need him, how you are always, always going to be his Robin.

Tim smiles a little at the soft “tt,” and thinks they’ve really dodged a bullet here, carrying his harness and utility belt upstair with Jay’s hand on his lower back and the Alpha rumbling softly, deeply the minutes he gets to touch. 

He probably won’t realize it’s going to be more of a problem until Jon and Dami are literally facing him down in his Perch at Titan’s Tower, asking his permission to…to Court him. Like officially.

It’s the ‘oh-shit’ moment he didn’t think he’d ever have to face.

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You know, babe. This? Is something Ivy could and possibly would do. If she wanted to make a venom that could bring out the aggressive traits or some such, and just! Tim’s system is still kinda imbalanced due to the long suppression of his Heat and instincts. 

It would be a crazy kind of thing if once they get the idea of what’s going down, Dick fall to his knees and bares his throat, eyes half-mast.

“I’m your Alpha, Timmy. I’ll take care of you however you need me to.”

And Tim’s panting, the venom running havok in his system, his jaw aching to bite.

“He’s right there, baby,” is Jason in the background, still in the Red Hood body suit, staying far enough back that Tim doesn’t attack again. “Smell good, don’t he? Like ya just wanna eat ‘im right up.”

And the only thing that can rumble out of his throat, the only thing they can understand around the growl is-

“Mine.”

The soft noise out of Dick’s throat, the call to pack, makes a shiver run through Tim’s expanded senses, makes his mouth water.

Dick just bites down on his lip at the spike in Tim’s scent, looks up with those eyes. “Then prove it, Alpha. Come and take me.”

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An abrupt cold over his shoulder blade makes him rouse slightly, his neurons firing sluggishly, slowly. Before he even opens his eyes, he knows he’s naked, comfortable, something cotton around his hips where he’s still–

Right. Skipped last Heat, couldn’t skip this one.

Still, he listens to the sound of his Alpha drinking from the water bottle that had apparently roused him from things like sex comasand sighs out loud because here he is, in Dick Grayson’s lap yet again.

At some point between solving a double homicide and now, he’d gone from casual crime fighting to a moaning, panting mess in the middle of Dick’s bed, his Heat striking hard and fast since he’d been too busy last month going blackout to let his body take him away from the Mission.

And since Dick was apparently on his Alpha Game or something, he’d pretty much pulled rank in Titan’s Tower and hauled him back to Gotham to wait for the pre-Heat to start.

As much as it was necessary, it was still good to hang in Dick’s apartment for the night to wait it out, watching old horror movies and eating junk food, laying out on the couch to mock the actors and throw popcorn at the screen.

It was something…more.

“Waking up, baby?” Is soft against his throat, Dick’s mouth cold from the water. They’re sprawled out on the living room couch, the television on low, and the hand moving over his spine is rubbing lazy circles making him more hazy. Instead of answering, he just makes an effort to wiggle a little in Alpha’s lap. The unexpected pull and tug makes his chest stutter in a gasp, makes his body arch.

Dick palms his hips, grips to hold him still. “Whoa, whoa, can’t move yet, okay? We’re, ah Timmy, we’re still tied from last time. Just relax, Pretty Bird. Alpha’s got you.”

He moans a little where Dick is still deep inside him, filling him up full, “s'good. Feels good,” is slurry and dreamy.

Dick hums, thumbs rubbing the indent of his hips while the knot tenses in him, pumps more, makes his belly even warmer.

“Pretty Bird likes that,” is low and fond, “keeping Alpha’s cock warm.”

“Mmhm,” he murmers with a yawn.

And they might stay there a little longer than necessary, even long after Dick’s knot goes down, but he’s still half-hard inside (his) the Omega’s warm and wet. Tim might shift just a little, not enough to lose this connection, noses into Dick’s neck, but he feels no need to move.

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“Baby Bird,” and that sounds so much like warning that he automatically backs up a single step when the scent of aroused Alpha gets thick.

He swallows, eyes drawn to the damning evidence right in the plastic case usually buried in his closet until his Heat sets in.

The plastic case no one was ever supposed to find.

The toys he’d finally caved in to buy after his almost-fatal bout of Heat Mania when he realized he could never put his body through that again, when he’d actually have to take care of the problem before it gets that bad. He can double-up on suppressants for one Heat, but he doesn’t even skip two anymore.

(And why get something like those when he has two Alphas that have told him repeatedly they are very, very happy to serve him in his time of need? Why when he’s been assured of his place in the Pack regardless of orientation? Because of things like last one left standing are always going to be in the back of his brain pan.)

However, the point is, he has them and only for emergencies when the Bats are balls deep in bad guys and can’t wait four days for him to be mostly over the symptoms.

He just never expected his pack Alphas to be ahead of the game this time and waiting for him at one of his Gotham shelters to ride out the storm.

(They must have hacked the sensors in my suit to find me. Fuck, I need to recalibrate them at the earliest possible convenience.)

Even with the dom over his eyes and the whiteouts down, even with the suit and armor keeping most people from stabbing him horribly, Red still feels nakes as fuck when their eyes move over him in a slow, anticipatory sweep.

None of it gets any better when N looks from the container and back to him with something dark and feral in his eyes.

“Baby,” and God, it’s low and deep, bordering on the edge of a purr or a growl, his Alpha’s instincts already coming to the fore. “You have one in my colors. I don’t understand why you need that when you have me.”

Hood, still reining himself in but only just, straightens purposely slow, but his eyes are so intense, taking in every move, every flinch, every breath from their (his) Omega.

“Red one s’nice, Sweets. Ain’t gonna hold a candle ta what I’m gonna do ta ya. How I’m gonna eat ‘cha ‘til ya can’t do nothing more n’ scream fer me. How I’m gonna hold ya, suck ya right down while Big Wing fills ya up s’full. Gonna show ya there ain’t no need for ‘em what when ya got us, you feel me here?”

“It’s–ah, they’re! Just…just for emergencies and–” but Red is backing up with the Alpha’s advancing on him, his stomach already heavy with pressure, his body awakening in the scent of Alpha, with so many needs and wants that he can barely breathe. “It…it’s just–!”

But he doesn’t get anything more, not when Hood and N move. When they pin him between them, lift him up to take his mouth, suck at his throat, start tearing him out of the suit so they can have bare skin and scars, sensitive spots and straining sinew, when they can suck their ownership into his skin like a promise to make him throw back his head and keen.

Chapter Text

There is nothing worse than water in your fucking boots.

Seriously.

His impromptu dip in the harbor was completely worth the pain in the ass because Two-Face is going to live to see another day, and he even acted less crazy than normal when he was handcuffed by GCPD, quiet while he was taken away in the back of a squad car.

The best part? The villain told him he was glad he hadn’t filled him full of holes after all. Red Robin is going to take that as a win.

And since his sleuthing is done for the night, he can go back to his Perch in Gotham City and get out of these wet clothes and put his damn boots by a heating vent to dry out a little.

He feels good enough about the night to order a pizza and do his notes while a slice is hanging out of his mouth when dry clothes are a thing.

He has a fan turning lazily, trying to keep himself cooled down because the Heat symptoms just started to manifest while he was riding back from the take-down (all that wind rushing by while he’s in a wet suit and still he’s starting to get hot? Seriously, body, stop making shit harder on him).

The pre-Heat could take up to three hours before the main event starts, and he at least wants to get the notes done and go blackout before it happens.

He’s got a bunch of Gatorade and power bars from two weeks ago when Jay and Dick pretty much showed up just in time for him to go full blown. Luckily, Dick had picked up more on the way to his Perch since the God-forsaken sixth sense had struck again. Somehow, maybe some Pack Alpha instinct, Dick had known he was going to need them, and true to form, the last Heat had been particularly vicious, his body in physical pain when he was empty.

(And no, he doesn’t need a reminder how nice Dick and Jay were about it when he was literally fucking crying. Geeze, things he doesn’t need people to see for 100 Alex.)

Which means he should have been good for a month and a half, but Leslie had warned him going this long on suppressants would have some effects on him biologically. She’d mentioned he could have two Heats back-to-back as a sign his body is starting to regulate like any normal Omega. So, really, this pain-in-the-ass is his own fault anyway.

Notes done, he logs out of BI’s mainframe and shoots the Titan’s a quick message, In Gotham. Perfectly safe. Going to sleep for 24-36 hours. Don’t freak out about the blackout mode, and shuts down his main system in preparation.

Barefoot, he pads around to shut off the lights and fans, grabs a Gatorade, starts pulling his nerd shirt off on the way to the bedroom. Security in lockdown and he’s starting to feel the burn just a little bit more.

Not long now. Damn, hopefully this will be fast and furious.

A locked box in the back of the closet is deposited by the bed, his thumb print accepted. He shifts through the unopened packages until he gets the red one and the blue one out, laying them on the bed to open before the round of fuck my contingencies ramps up.

(His face is hot, and not because of the pre-Heat. The two knotting dildos were purchased when he started thinking one night about what he was going to do when his body started regulating out, so Dick and Jay wouldn’t need to play Alphas to his Omega anymore. Ironically, the two toys reminded him of their knots anyway, and he’d been guilty as fuck buying them.)

He’s already started sweating lightly and jumps in the shower to wash off Gotham Harbor.

His phone goes off while he’s drying himself off, shifting his weight because his abdomen is already starting to get tight and uncomfortable in anticipation.

The message on his phone makes him groan/sigh because the Red Hood is wondering:

Jaybird: How was the swim?

There’s more laughing emojis than he realistically needs.

In just boxers, Tim plops down on his bed, taps his phone to decide whether or not to respond. Since they already knew he’d taken down Two-Face, he really doesn’t have options.

Me: nice this time of year. Btw, Harvey didn’t drown. That’s a win for the good guys.

Before he’s done, the ellipsis meaning someone is typing shows up, so he’s got himself in a world of trouble by answering. Natch.

(On the other hand, his Omega whispers, if you hadn’t messaged back, they might come looking for you. It preens at the thought of his Pack Alphas concerned for him, coming for him– Dammit. Not. The. Time.)

Jaybird: Oughta come 2 the Manor. Al made pizza. Can celebrate?

Well, shit.

Me: Thanks 4 the invite. Running time-sensitive diagnostic for the Titans and crashing. See you at the next VA meeting tho.

Okay. So, normal. Jay will understand the need for fighting crime.

Jaybird: No problem. We’ll bring you some.

Fuck. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck.

Me: Nah. Not tonight. Gonna set this up and crash. The alarm will wake me when the analysis is done. Enjoy the pizza!

Jaybird: If you’re sure?

Me: Positive. Sleep is calling. GN.

And turns off his phone with a sigh of unmitigated relief.

Crisis averted.

Right?

**

Forty-five minutes later, he’s idly eating popcorn and watching Infinity War when a wave of blistering heat washes over him, and the gentle reprieve is finally done.

His cock is hard and aching within a moment, his hands fisting in the blanket under him, hips jerking. The soft, subtle scent of slick tickles the edges of his senses, his ass starting to get moist under his boxers.

But Tim has old memories of doing this alone back when he was still in the tunic, and he forces himself to breath past the initial stages, fists his hands even tighter to keep from touching himself yet. He remembers how much better the orgasm was when he held off for as long as he could, remembers the time between waves lasted longer.

He bites down on his lower lip to keep in the noises (but really, what is the point?) and tries to just keep thinking.

He shoves the unopened boxes over and sprawls out on his back, trying not to let anything other than his boxers touch his aching erection. His thighs tighten, legs spreading automatically, feet bracing to work his hips a little.

It’s fine. You’ve done this before isn’t really that much of a consolation.

With the fire in his body starting to get more and please and Oh God, his mouth falls open to pant, toss his head back and forth with the arousal building, making his belly get tense.

An abrupt cramp knocks the wind out of him ending on a small, helpless noise that inadvertently escapes.

Rolling on his side, curling in on himself, Tim forces himself to just fucking breathe through it, it won’t last forever.

–when the comm on his desk blips, and the tinny voice is just loud enough to get his attention over things like terribly thought-out biology.

(Everything in you is screaming for an Alpha to help, touch, soothe. It’s not really your fault.)

“If you’re asleep, don’t get up. We’re just going to drop off pizza and we’ll be out of your Perch-”

Which is nothing short of fucking horrific.

“Almost goddit, Dickie,” is lost when another sharp cramp makes him huddle further into the pain rippling over his upper body while his brain screams to just fucking move.

The scent of slick gets stronger, clogging up the room, and the door isn’t even locked–

The next cramp makes his muscles flutter, but he can wobbly-leg it to the door and collapse in front of it.

(I was stabbed in the fucking spleen and still saved Pru. Without Ra’s, I would have been dead soon after, but if I can do that, I can get through this.)

He flips a small panel on the door frame and presses his thumb into it, forehead braced on the wall while he grits his teeth and gets a second or two of his muscles easing back.

Tim focuses on breathing, listening, and sure enough, there’s a timid knock a few minutes later. The door knob wiggles once softly, nearly inaudible voices mumble back and forth while he holds his breath.

He thinks he might be in the clear when it goes quiet again, thinking maybe they’d gone to dump the pizza in his fridge and be on their way out.

But a very clear, “do you smell what I smell?” is the proverbial nail in his coffin.

**

“Timmy? Are you…awake?”

“Please go away, I’m…I’m trying to sleep.” Tim tries again, more desperate now that hearing his Alphas’ voices is hitting all the deep places in him where the Omega hides.

“Don’t smell like it, Sweets. Think maybe ya mighta forgot ta mention something ta yer Alphas?”

(You aren’t mine. This is just about fucking Pack dynamics and bullshit biology. It’s fine, he gets it.)

“Hey,” and Dick’s voice is low and loud enough to be heard, and Tim slaps a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t whimper. “It’s okay. It’s us, Tim. We can make it better if you just open the door. You know we can, don’t you.”

It really isn’t a question, and Dick doesn’t pretend to make it one.

His abdomen spasms and he’s rolling his forehead against the wall in denial because fuck, haven’t they done enough? He’s not going to die, and, seriously, he’s a shitty Omega anyway.

“It’s not Heat Mania,” he tries to be reasonable, proud of himself when his voice only cracks once or twice, “I can get through it by myself this time. Y-You two just gave up five days a few weeks ago.”

The hand goes back over his mouth and his boxers are getting wet now, the way he’s curled in on himself probably not helping the situation.

Voices talking too low for him to make out again.

“Seriously, it’s fine. You guys got me out of danger. This? This is just business as usual. B is out of Gotham and you can’t be here for that long–”

“–B called in the Birds of Prey ta help out while he’s out wid’ the League,” Jay breaks through his ramblings. “We got Rob n’ BG. Cass is in fer a visit, and a trio of ass kickers. Ya ain’t gotta worry ‘bout Gotham, Timmers. Shit’s all kinds a handled.”

The door knob wiggles again, making him gasp because shit, if anyone could crack his fingerprint locks, it’s probably the Red Hood.

“So. That’s not an excuse to go through your Heat alone,” Dick cuts in, sounds more ragged and raw, the Pack Alpha coming out in him. “There’s honestly no reason for you to go through it by yourself at all because your Pack is supposed to take care of you. And we are here to do just that, Tim.”

And fuck he does (and doesn’t) want to.

(It really is going to hurt like a motherfucker when it’s all over with, isn’t it?)

And while Tim Drake could give them a hundred different excuses, could explain it away a hundred different ways

(“I don’t want my Omega to get used to having Alphas. That just makes my Heats more difficult. Please understand.”)

–he, Tim, not the Omega, really doesn’t want to.

(Oh yeah. He’s figuratively fucked. Literally fucked to possibly follow.)

He’s already reaching up to thumb at the panel again before he realizes what he’s doing and pauses, sighs at his own weakness.

And like they can feel him hesitate, the heavy musk finally gets to him from under the door. The combination of Dick and Jay and the Alpha instinct to soothe.

“Please, Timmy, Baby. Please let us in.” Dick says to the door, hands braced on the door frame outside, staring a hole right through the damn thing because he really wants to say is please let us love you.

Jay is nudged tightly against his back, peering over his shoulder with those precious few inches of extra height.

“S’all right, Timmers,” Jay’s deep voice rolls past his ear when his second leans over to talk closer, simultaneously sliding a hand over Dick’s hip, finger making soothing circles around the bone. “Ya know we love it when yer all pretty n’ pink fer us, yeah? Heat makin’ ya bite yer lip n’ flutter yer eyes when we get ta touch. N’ ya know how much we like it, don’t cha? Ya know it don’t matter how long it needs ta be, ‘er how much needin’ ya got saved up inside. Ya knowthe only thing what matters is how perfect ya are under our hands n’ mouth, yeah?”

Dick smirks at the tactic, turning just enough to get close to Jay’s face and shove their mouths together in a quick kiss.

His mate and second just grins right back, his down ‘n dirty one.

“Wadda ya say, Sweets? Gonna have mercy on these two ole’ Alphas? Let us be good, n’ take care a’ ya like we oughta?”

There’s a low noise, something muffled by the door, but Dick’s muscles tighten against the front of Jay’s body, putting the other Alpha right on point.

“Sounds like–” pain.

Jay just nods, staring intently at the door, fingers tapping over the hilt of this .45 like he’s thinking of taking the easy way inside. “Starting up awful fast, ain’t he, Alpha?”

“Leslie said something about double Heats while his body is getting back under control,” Dick reminds him absently. “I’m hoping this is the only one he’s experienced so far.”

Jay hums a little, “you n’ me both. Don’t like ‘im hittin’ two ina month. Too much strain.”

“Agreed, but we–” and Dick gets cut off by the sudden, powerfulscent hitting them right in the instincts. The Alpha in them knows what a spike that sudden means.

Dick turns to make one last plea to the door, please, Baby, you don’t have to do this alone, before they would have to go. If Tim was that adamant, they wouldn’t hack the door to get to him, to force him to accept them during his Heat, but if he caught their scents, it could make the cycle more painful (“The inner Omega will pine for an Alpha. Scents will not help, but make the [sic] situation worse. An Alpha should vacate the premises if an Omega in Heat does not belong to him or her”). To keep it from being so much worse, they’d have no choice but the leave.

The possibility sticks in Dick’s throat, makes Jay rumble out a low whine.

But the telltale click resounds, kills the words in Dick’s mouth before they get out.

It’s a breath when he and Jay step over the threshold, kneel by the (their) pained Omega, warm hands and soothing touches, purring a low reverberation that makes Tim’s spine uncurl when Dick gathers him up and lifts. Jay is back with more Gatorade and power bars, throwing off his jacket and holsters while Dick kicks off his shoes and straddles Tim on the bed, leans closer to start kneading out the muscle spasms and nuzzling against Tim’s throat gently, soothingly.

“Ssshh, sshh, it okay Timmy. We’re here.” And Dick tilts his head just a little so his throat is visible and his scent gland right there if Tim wanted to give him and bury his face there.

(He totally does. Stupid fucking instincts.)

And Dick’s hands are warm, the pressure just enough to work out those muscles, to make the pain ease down. At one point, Tim had wrapped a hand around Dick’s forearm to have something grounding.

“You don’t have to do this,” is low and soft, “it isn’t going to be bad this time. Just a normal Heat. I can handle it. I have handled it.”

Jay takes a knee beside the bed, reaches over to direct Tim’s gaze with a forefinger under his chin. “Timmers,” is more stern than he’s used to hearing from the Red Hood, “like me n’ Dickie dunno how much ya can handle? Like we dunno how much ass ya can kick? C’mon, give us a little credit, yeah?”

Tim’s eyes get more dazed with all the stimulus hitting him right in the Omega instincts, blinking hazily at Jay kneeling there. “Seriously, I’m a shitty Omega, and neither of you need this. It’s bad enough you gave up a week already this month.”

“I told you,” Dick counters serenely, hands pausing, “that you are not a bad Omega. I would have thought during your last Heat you would have gotten that.”

They can both see Tim swallow, his eyes dart away, clearly disbelieving but not calling them on their bullshit.

Dick’s inner Alpha curls around his insides, wanting nothing more than to flop on the pretty Omega and pin him down until he cries uncle and finally believes in them, wants nothing more than to stick his nose in the sweet scent gland and never move, wants to hear Tim say it, just once–

“I’m yours, aren’t I Alpha?”

–but there’s no room for that yet. Not here, not now. Someday soon when Tim stopped giving into his instincts to hide and protect himself. Even if the Omega in him had accepted their Alphas, it still drew back, remembered the pain they both caused at one time or another.

And Dick understood. As Pack Alpha, he can scent more keenly, as a detective, he can put all the evidence together with the spikes of adrenaline, the quickening of a pulse, the flinch when certain things are brought up in casual conversation.

(Someday, he thinks fiercely, nuzzling into Tim’s jugular, while the knots under his hands ease down, you are going to forgive us, and everything is going to finally be okay.)

He huffs a little when Jay kneels by the bed, hands folded to rest his chin and watch. Timmy’s head flops over, the lines around his eyes still prominent with pain and the ingrained struggle not to just give in, and Jay trails his fingers lightly over the hand fisted in the sheets.

“Hey, hey. S’all right now, ain’t it, Baby?” He keeps it low and deep, lets it end on a nice purr. Inching the hand over, closer to his mouth, “an’ ta think, y’ weren’t gonna let me n’ Dickie here fer this? Tryin’ ta punish us, are ya?”

“Wh-What?! What are you even–”

Dick’s hand on his shoulder stops Baby Bird from sitting up, his cheeks gettin’ pink ‘cause he get all embarrassed ‘bout it.

(And fuck ain’t it cute.)

Big Wing smirks a little and leans up, gives Jay some room. He takes all he can, rising up on his knees, turning his jaw a little so his musk is stronger, getting fuller.  He gets to wrap a palm around that wrist, pinning it lightly when he hovers over Tim’s wide eyes, makes him face this, face him, face them.

“Ya already know it, don’t cha, Timmy?” Low and growly against his mouth, flick of a tongue over his bottom lip, “how much ya make us want, yeah?”

And since Jason Todd is a man what knows how Tim reacts to being touched, how he gets so sweetly slick and ready, how needy and soft he can whine, knows that as much as Timmy says he don’t need this, need them, his body don’t agree with it.

It’s how he n’ Dickie can tell when Timmy is lyin’ ‘cause it’s the Omega what tells them the truth.

It’s why Jay can purr and nuzzle, can lean in and take his mouth like he owns it. When Tim makes a noise, arches his back, Jay knows Dick is mouthing at him, right below where his palms are rubbing, licking the line between boxers and skin.

Pullin’ back just makes Timmy chase his mouth, eyes half-mast and cheeks just the right shade of pink.

“See that, Sweetheart? How pretty y’ are? An’ ya weren’t gonna let us be here fer it? ‘M hurt over here.” And he purrs against the tendon in Tim’s neck, just the sharp edge of teeth teasing down to his collarbone.

“Th-that’s not–!”

“But it is, Timmy,” Dick fills in soothingly, mouthing at the waistband of his boxers. “You weren’t going to let us have this.”

“Dammit that isn’t–”

“Sshh,” and Jay presses a kiss back to his throat, right below the scent gland, “s’all right. We f’give ya, Sweets. ‘Cause we’re here now, and that’s what matters, you feel me?”

Tim finds it in him to brace a hand against Jay’s shoulder, pushing him back just enough to be able to think around the heat pooling in his stomach, lighting his body with need.

“It isn’t like that!” He tries, he really does, stares into those eyes with green flecks faded away. “It–this–it’s just!”

Dick finally seems to have enough, knee walking up so he and Jay could loom over the squirming Omega, both of them facing him down.

“At first, it was because of the Heat Mania, Timmy,” Dick’s voice is low and firm, “but it stopped being about that for me in the first five minutes.”

Jay purrs at him softly, “like I’d keep comin’ back ta ya if’n it was only ‘cause a’ biology, Timmers. Like you think I don’t see this fineas fuck ‘Mega right ‘chere needin’ an Alpha? Like I don’t want a piece a’ ya?”

That is…so not what he anticipated tonight once he’d given the Alphas an appropriate out. The admission makes his heart thump painfully in his chest, a jolt of fear slithering through his brain pan at all the implications of this–

–that would fully set in later on after his body stops trying to literally kill him with sex.

Because it’s enough of a push, this moment when scents are so fucking sincere and they’re looking at him with heat and affection, and he wants so desperately to believe. It’s enough to make the Omega in him rear up past his barriers and bullshit masks, for the whine, the call to his Pack, to his Alphas, to spill out of his mouth without holding back.

Fuck.

Because even though it’s a rough, soft sound, something he’d never been able to let himself do before now, not with all the secrets he’d had to keep, it makes some of the tightness in his chest ease down to finally be able to let it out, let his instincts take over.

In the form of a whine, a call to his Alphas. His Omega could finally stop mourning being left out of the Pack.

So he’s completely unprepared for Dick and Jay to react so distinctly to that noise, for them to bury their faces in his throat and lick along both sides until the kiss of teeth along his collar bone becomes a bloom of pain and sinks deep into his subconscious. It’s not (and he gasps in a hard breath just thinking about it, about either of them biting down on the back of his neck instead…) to mate him or make him submit, it’s just marks made to show ownership, to show Pack, and his eyes might get a little hot and fullwith it while the Omega in him rolls over to show its’ belly to the (his) Alphas.  

And it’s something he’s been wanting for so long, the confirmation that he’s no longer the outcast, the Omega without a place. During the long road to come back to Gotham, back to the Bats, he hasn’t let himself sink into the depression that hit back when his tunic was yanked out from under him, leaving him hanging.

With the indents of teeth along his collarbone, with the distinct Alpha scent on his neck, the assurance he’s been claimed as their Pack Omega for anyone to see, is enough to make him close his eyes tight to keep from fucking crying. Instead, he distracts himself by lifting both arms around his Alphas to hold on while they lick across the indents of their teeth, soothing the sting.

He doesn’t let himself panic when they move on from marking him, when Jay is licking into his mouth and Dick’s hands are spreading his thigh, long-fingered hand cupping his straining erection.

He keens with it, back arching at the onslaught, his inner Omega sated with the marks on his body, languishing in the attention of his Alphas.

It’s so easy to fall under their spell, to put himself in their hands, and just give in. If they weren’t so damn careful and easy with him when he needs it that way, if they didn’t fuck him dirty and rough when it needed it that way instead, if they didn’t purr against his chest and lick at the marks, if they didn’t talk low against the back of his neck, if they didn’t hold the hell on when all he wanted to do is run.

Hands that know how to make him writhe, are busy smoothing up the sides of his thighs and over his abdomen, Jay and Dick trading places with his mouth. Thumbs make small circles on his nipples, makes them peak, makes the spark of pleasure shoot down his spine straight to his aching cock, while he keens in Dick’s mouth.

“Uh-oh,” hazily gets through the heat pooling in his belly, in his blood, lighting his nerves on fire. “Looks like we have some competition, Jaybird.”

Fuck.

And Dick is leaning up on his knees, holding up the blue knotting dildo after he’d snatched it from the blankets, looking it over with a critically assessing expression–

Then those eyes slide over to the Omega spread out on the bed beneath them, the one smelling like a bakery, the one that needed him, needed them to take care of him.

“I told you, I can handle my Heats.” His face is going red and notbecause of the whole lot of naked happening beside the bed where Jay is stripping off the body suit.

“Mmhm,” and Dick widens his knees, spreading Baby Bird’s legs wider, puts the toy by his calf so he can be the one to use it on Timmy (and he is very interested on seeing how much of it his Omega can take before he’s screaming for the real deal).

The other Alpha’s eyes shoot to the subtly covered splash of red almost by the wall, and one brow quirks up as a side to the smirk on Jason Todd’s face.

“Dickie. Ya’ thinking what I’m thinking?”

“If it’s to fuck him with these things until he cries, then yes. I’m on board with that plan, Little Wing.”

“Good t’ see we’re on’a same page, you feel me here?”

The oldest vigilantes exchange a heated glance, the message clear from that look alone:

Time to teach Timmy a lesson and get to have him at the Same. Damn. Time.

Two Robins with one stone.

Jay is already crawling over Tim to lay on the other side while Dick moves fast, climbing off to shimmy out of his clothes until he’s in black briefs, coming right back to the perfect spot between the third Robin’s clenched thighs. He grins, already deciding on a plan, while Jay pins both wrists above their bird’s head, preparing him for the on-coming torture.

And when this cycle is done, when they’ve both had turns teasing him between waves with the toys he’d purchased, fucking him fast and rough or slow and soft until their knots throbbed to be buried in him, when they’ve made Tim give in to them, over and over, made him beg for their cocks, promised to always call next time no matter what.  When he’s so overwork, overstimulated, a trembling, babbling, crying pile of please fuck me before I die.

When they make the lesson stick.

(“Never gonna need ‘em again. Ya gotch us, n’ ya better damn wellcall b’for ya use it again. Do you feel me, Baby?”

“These are last resort only, Tim. You only get to use these after you’ve called both of us and not because of a case or checking in on Gotham.”

He’d only been stupidly grateful all three of them could fit in his tub at the time, water lapping lazily around him, caught on Jay’s lap with his leg in Dick’s, hands on his ankle and calf under the water. He was dozing and utterly fucking destroyed, which is the only reason he agreed to it in the first place, dammit. They took advantage of fucking him completely out.

(Alphas. Of fucking course.)

But this time, after they’d been so fucking thorough in showing him where his place with them really is, Red Robin can’t help but wonder if it’s more than just a bunch of Alphas taking care of the Pack Omega. If all the sweet things Dick growls in his ear is more than just hormones and Pack Alpha lizard brain. He wonders if Jay’s dirty talk doesn’t stem from some messed up sense of guilt or responsibility from back when they were just, you know, trying to kill one another. Or, Jay was trying to kill him and Red was really just trying not to die.

He wonders if it isn’t just a matter time until his body regulates.

He wonders if they know what they’re doing to him when they act like he’s theirs.

He wonders how far they’re going to go.

(A part of him is terrified to find out.)

Chapter Text

Jay is the one that noticed first.

“Still so sensitive,” is breathed against him when Tim finally comes to after his second real Heat in almost three years (ones induced by immortal megalomaniacs notwithstanding).

He’d been so good, coming off his suppressants enough to meet his cycle instead of fight it. He’d been completely fine, prepared to take care of it on his own, thinking he’d do what he needed to do (suffering through Heat without an Alpha was his norm before the terrifying bout of Heat Mania once his secret was out), and take care of his body for once.

He hadn’t expected Dick and Jay to be waiting for him.

He hadn’t expected them to completely overwhelm him, taking off pieces of his suit one-by-one while talking against his mouth, his throat, his bare skin, refusing to let him push them away.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to–!”

“Shuddap,” was Jay’s easy purr over his jugular, “already smell s’ good, Timmy.”

He couldn’t say anything to that because of Dick’s mouth swallowing down everything, helping peel the tunic off only to come back once it was gone.

Several days of intense Alpha cuddling, mind-blowing sex, hand-feedings, and warm baths, and Jay is being absurdly gentle washing him, humming some 80’s song while a soft washcloth moves over his skin.

The touch to his chest is tingling, almost uncomfortable, the nubs feeling swollen and sore. He flinches when Jay washes over them.

He makes a low noise in reply, head still stuck in his instincts, bleary from the last few days of baring his neck in submission and being sandwiched between the two Alpha males the whole time.

He doesn’t think anything of it, can’t focus when Alpha picks him up out of his second’s hold, dries his off and coos stupid praises in his neck.

He doesn’t thinking anything of it after his Heat is over and he can go back to his life again (and be comfortable enough to actually, you know, stay this time instead of running his ass off away from Dick and Jay. They reward him with cuddles, terrible junkfood, tons of coffee, and help with the case he had to put on the backburner). He doesn’t think anything of it when the first morning of nausea rolls around to make him almost throw up his coffee.

He finally gets how something could be a miss when the he gets a whiff of some strong cologne from an Alpha he’s interrogating almost makes him hurl all over the guy’s shoes.

Of course, leave it up to the Titans to be the first ones to call him out on it.

Somehow, Bart managed to break into his Perch in Titan’s Tower after 24 hours of denial and a rolling stomach kept him mostly in the bathroom for a few hours in between running tracking software and looking at the recent string of murders in Gotham.

Finding him on his knees with his face in the toilet was really nothow he’d wanted to broach the subject.

Before he knew it, the speedster was kneeling behind him, rubbing soothing circles on his back, unabashedly leaning forward so his Alpha scent could put Tim’s inner Omega more at ease.

(But he’s scenting the wrong Alpha, isn’t he?)

“F-Flu, not a good time,” he manages around the next bout of fuck, this sucks.

“You don’t smell sick,” is Bart’s inevitable answer, making Tim’s already racing heart hit that much harder in his chest.

“Wh-what do I smell like?” He can manage after the last round is finally over and he flushes the waste away, laying his head on his arm.

Bart stretches himself, one hand still making soothing circles on his best friend’s back while he fills a cup with water from the sink, and hands it over.

While Tim is sipping and spitting the taste out of his mouth, Bart subtly slips his cell out and texts Kon to get your ass here.

“You smell like the usual coffee, metal, little bit of blood, and–well…”

Tim wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “What?”

Bart clearly hesitates, hoping for just a little, you know, help.

“Bart? KF, talk to me, man.”

“…”

“Dude.”

“Kon should be here to smell you, too. His senses are way better.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” The Detective already sees right through him, not giving him an inch.

And with Tim sitting by the toilet in pjs, bare-faced, still a little pale from being sick, eyes narrow in suspicion, Bart knows he has no other options.

“You smell more…Omega-y than normal, okay? Like candy. Kind of sweet. And….and…I can smell Dick on you still, so it’s probably just leftover traces from your Heat, dude. Seriously. Like I said, Kon has better senses, so–”

But he knows the second Tim mentally checks out on him. Sees the furious working of that brain when he admitted the Omega smell is actually there.

While Bart is still trying to explain things away, Tim struggles to get his feet under him, sways just slightly. He doesn’t register how fast Bart reaches to steady him, those Alpha instincts to protect the (possibly….possibly pregnant) Omega riding him harder than he’d ever thought possible.

“I smell like Alpha,” numbly tumbles out.

“It’s really, really faint, Tim, I swear. It could just be from, you know, the Heat you went through a week ago!”

“I went back on suppressants,” he braces against the sink, refuses to look at his (probably terrified) reflection, running cold water to splash his face.

“So? That isn’t going to kill the scent of the Alpha with you, you know.”

“Do you smell Jason, too?” And no, no, his voice didn’t crack enough to really notice.

“Well…”

“So, that’s a no,” and Tim dries his face while his mind works with the evidence he’s being fed, puts everything together just as efficiently as he does as Red, well and even when he was the otherRobin.

He could be–

He could very well be–

(Oh God)

The warring sides hit him like a bout of Fear Toxin while he straightens and he only knows Bart is still talking because his mouth is moving in the mirror. The very hard realities invade and the choices staring at him from all sides. It’s crazy how he can pretty much be having a panic attack while also calculating the numerous paths he could take from here, but multitasking is really a Bat-talent, isn’t it?

(Should he keep it? Tell Dick? Deal with it himself? If he keeps it –baby, a baby– how could he hide? Where could he go that his enemies wouldn’t be able to find them? How could he take care of a baby?! How could he keep a baby safe from guys like Ra’s al Ghul?)  

Something passes in front of his face, and Tim jerks back, almost slams his head in the wall behind him. Except for, well, you know, super speed and the like.

At some point, Kon appeared in the bathroom of his Perch, he and Bart kneeling by him, apparently passing one of Dick’s t-shirts in his face to use the scent of his Alpha to get him to respond.

(What the fuck is he going to do? What the fuck he is going to do…?)

“There he is,” Kon grins down at him, seemingly undisturbed at the possible life-changing that might be going down right now. “Hey buddy, heard you’re having an off day.”

“You could say that. Hi, Kon. Everything is fine, all good. Nothing to see–”

“From everything I’ve ever read, procreating is a big deal,” the super just shrugs. “People want babies, T. Like, all the time. If people can have babies and still be bad ass, so can you.”

But there it is. There it is.

“So you can tell–?!”

“Me? Nah, not yet. Don’t get me wrong, you smell like Grayson and more pheromones than usual, but I’m not catching the hint I usually get with other pregnant Omegas. Maybe you’re just not that far along yet or something? I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m a null.”

And just like that, Kon has him distracted enough to get quick hands under him and lift him like some fainting lilly just because he might, could be–

(But…but a baby with his eyes and Dick’s smile, a baby that cooed at him and gripped his hair, that laughed and would eventually grow up to be this kick ass person and he would see it, all of it, and–)

Bart is already doing that thing Alphas need to do when there might be a wind of pregnant in the air, putting a pillow on his computer chair, zipping around to snatch a blanket to wrap him in, getting a plate of post-morning sickness snacks, all of it in the span of time it took Kon to cross the room carrying him.

“Cassie is totally going to freak out and throw you a shower,” because his best friend is one of those people that can’t leave well enough alone and is absently talking about something Tim is still struggling to wrap his brain around. “Rave…well, probably not so comfortable around kids yet, but she’ll totally get there because it’s you, Dick, and Jason.”

Fuck. What is he going to tell his Alpha? (Alphas, right?)

…is he going to tell them?

The panic bubbles back up in his chest, up through his throat to come out in a soft, broken noise that is completely not the Omega instincts rushing up in him like bile, upset at the fact he’s thinking of keeping something like this to himself.

Bart and Kon exchange a worried glance over his head, but the noise, something so out of place for their Red is nothing short of worrying.

“Hey, hey, c’mon. No matter what, we’re with you, okay? T? C’mon look at me here,” Bart still wraps the blanket around him, is easy with it when he moves to be in Tim’s line of sight, grinning like everything is just going to be fine. “If you want to wait to tell everyone, that’s totally cool, man. We’ll keep it just between us.”

“I need….I need to get tested first, before I tell anyone else.” Is some default in his brain. Don’t throw out the theory until you have concrete evidence.

“Even Dick?” Bart sounds a little dubious, quirking one eyebrow at him.

“Even Dick,” unconsciously, his hands work in the blanket, fisting in the material instead of going to his lower belly and cup the possible life growing there. The horrible division of surprised joy and crushing indecision tear at him, make him try not to be too hopeful, to get used to the idea, to believe it’s a reality while at the same time being terrified it could be, he could really be–

(Dick would make an awesome dad)

Oh God.

“I need…I need some time.” For everything.

“Uh-hu,” Kon waves a finger in his face, “if we leave you alone for ten minutes, you’re going to spook yourself and take off for Istanbul or something. That? Not gonna happen, buddy.”

Bart crosses his arms over his chest, “and you absolutely can’t go out in the mask until we know for sure, Tim. No way is Red Robin going to be fighting any crime while you could be carrying.”

That? Is so true. God, he hadn’t even had time to think about it. Wearing the mask, putting the little life in danger, (giving up the vital part of himself, one of the things that makes him who he is).

All of it hits him, hits hard. And it’s a stupid thing how his eyes get abruptly hot and full, how he’s got to slap a hand over his mouth so the distressed sounds stay trapped in his chest, trying to hide his weaknesses, his fear, his anxiety over every possibility–

He doesn’t move when Kon and Bart pretty much wrap themselves around him, making stupidly supportive noises, using we and us and together like he isn’t completely alone.

So if he just gives in a little, crumples in the arms of his two best friends and lets them hold him up, well, he’s going to call it a bro’s moment and be done with it.

**

When N calls to catch-up with him and talk about a case a few days later, he is completely not freaking out.

Nope. Not at all.

“Sorry, I can’t come to Gotham,” he placates, forcing his voice into a neutral calm, “I’ve really got to be here for these scans, N.”

“S’okay, Red,” his Alpha sighs in the comm, “I get that you have this thing called a life, and you can’t just drop everything whenever I call. I mean, that would totally be fantastic because then I could be solving this case and cuddling the crap out of you at the same time, but I really understand, okay?”

He doesn’t sigh in relief, but it’s a close thing.

“Once I get through the yearly Tower refresh, I’ll come in for a few days, promise,” (which would be after the last of his suppressants are completely out of his system for a test to be accurate).

“I’ll hold you to it!” But the pause is less N’s usual cheerful, “hey, Red.”

“Yeah?” And his heart picks up without just cause, like his body just knows somehow.

“Is there something wrong? You sound…off somehow. Everything okay?”

Shit. That damn sixth sense.

“I’m tired,” he starts hesitantly, trying to throw off Dick’s magical vigilante sense with a little bit of the truth peppered with omission, “it’s been a rough week, so just rundown I think. But, since I have the refresh to do, I’ll have a few days to relax more than I normally get to, right?”

“Oh, poor Baby Bird.  Overworking as per usual?”

“Yeah, I guess. Other than that, I’m fine.” He makes himself laugh a little, “thanks, N.”

“I can’t help it, Baby Bird. You know I worry.”

“You just like killing people with your love,” he teases back lightly.

“Someone in this community needs to!”

“You are apparently the right asshole for the job. Congratulations. Remind me to stop for confetti next time.”

He gets Dick to laugh again before they hang-up, relieved down to his very soul.

It’s fine. He’s got a week before his appointment. After that, he’s going to come clean and any residual guilt is going to be a thing of the past.

(Right?)

**

As much as Leslie Thompkins has done for B and the rest of them over the years, she had never suspected Tim Drake would come out to her as an Omega, not until he called to ask her for a discreet appointment, one she had to swear she wouldn’t tell Bruce and the others in the Batfamily. Tim made it clear this is a personalappointment, nothing to do with capes or cowls.

Which leads to them sitting in her cramped office, Tim dressed down in an oversized hoodie, jeans, and beat-up DCs, the secrets spilling from the normally tight-lipped vigilante.

Superboy and Kid Flash are in her closed waiting room probably still reading old copies of magazines while the twenty-year old in front of her admits to his terrible truths.

(And just like all of Bruce’s sons, her heart goes out to him and the weight of all the things he’s had to keep from the others, things he’s had to hide.)

It was nothing to take his hand and try to be soothing while she asked the necessary questions: when was your last Heat? How long did it last? How long have you been on suppressants? How bad was the Heat Mania? Have you gone off the suppressants since you started suspecting?

Her fingers make soothing circles on his wrist while she nods sympathetically.

“So…so do you think I’m–?” And it’s the first time Tim has looked her in the eyes, a mixture of terrified and hopeful.

“I can’t tell just scenting you, at least not until you’re further along. The carrier usually doesn’t start smelling pregnant until the second trimester, so it’s perfectly normal if your Alpha friend can’t tell for sure either,” she tells him kindly, “but you’re far enough for a simple blood test. If the test is positive, then we’ll do an ultrasound to see if we can look at the little one.”

And his head drops back down, eyes squeezed shut, and Leslie’s heart goes out to him completely.

“Hey, hey,” she pats his hand, “even if you are pregnant, Tim, and we don’t have any verification of that yet, it’s still going to be okay, I promise. If you and your Alpha decide to give the baby up or keep it or…well, whatever you two decide, you’re going to make the right choice for the baby and for yourselves.”

Tim’s shoulders shake slightly, and she sighs a little when he moves a hand to cover his mouth.

Even if it’s still faint, that somehow he can suppress his inner Omega even enough to control how strong his scent is, the obvious distress is right there, giving a bitter edge to the slight hints of Omega sweetness.

“Do you want me to call someone for you? The Alpha that was with you maybe?”

“I can’t tell him,” the vigilante croaks out hoarsely, “I can’t. Not until I know.”

She goes back to soothing, “okay, then. We’ll do the blood test and get you a definitive answer. From there, we’ll talk about what you want to do next.”

“Okay,” he chokes out, eyes red and face blotchy, “okay.”

It’s with that calm understanding that she leads him into the deserted clinic, sits him down on an empty bed in Exam Room #5 (the usual room when she has visitors of the crime fighting kind) and slides on sterile gloves with ease of much practice.

“The test won’t take that long, maybe fifteen minutes. I’ll check to make sure the suppressants won’t affect the results first, then the test. Would you like your friends to be here to wait with you?” She asks gently, preparing a fresh needle and tube to take the sample.

Tim slides the sleeve off one arm and shakes his head, “no. I want to get the news by myself first. Then, I’ll tell them.”

“Alright, that’s perfectly fine. I’m should also run a hormone check considering the trauma your body has been through in the last few months. Having a Heat after so long is certainly going to play havoc with your system. From everything you’ve told me, a drug-induced Heat could have been even more detrimental to your hormone levels.”

“So…that might be why the birth control failed?”

Leslie hums a little while tapping his forearm to get the vein to stand out, “male Omegas are still very much a medical mystery, Tim. The balance of hormones, the ability to carry young as well as produce young, all of it makes the male Omega unpredictable when it comes to body chemistry. The kind of withdrawal and suppression you’ve put your system through, I honestly couldn’t begin to guess how it affected you. The test will give us a few answers, though.”

The hood obscures his face when he looks away and the needle pinches, starts to draw blood.

“There we are,” she tapes a cotton ball down, and takes the sample for testing. “Are you sure you don’t want to be with your friends while you wait? I can just call you back–”

“I’m sure,” he assures in a thick voice, eyes purposefully averted, “I’ll wait here. Th-thanks, Leslie.”

“Alright, Tim. I’ll make it as quick as possible,” and even though her carefully honed Beta instincts paw at her for leaving such a vulnerable young man alone, Leslie has to respect his wishes and give him the much-needed time to himself.

**

“I don’t goddamn see why’s I gotta be th’ one ta drag yer ass anywhere, Demon. Y’ ain’t a lil’ kid fer fuck’s sake.”

“And you think I am happy about this, Todd?” Robin sneers back at the Red Hood, arms folded across his chest and spine ramrod straight with tension.

“I think y’ like being a pain in m’ left nut, Baby Bat,” and Hood points a finger right in Rob’s chest, not even hesitating ‘cause he knows how right he is. “‘Causing grief is jus’ right up yer alley, you fucking feel me here?”

“I did not ask you to accompany me!”

“Didn’t gotta. B knows, y’ lil’ asshole. If we letcha alone, yer just not gonna go, so’s here we are.” And Hood flings a hand to the small clinic literally below their boots.

“I can take stitches out myself, this is a pointless exercise.”

“Just ‘cause ya can, don’t mean ya should, Demon. Now getcha ass through the damn window before I give ya another reason ta have stitches.”

“Tt. Not on your best day, Todd.”

“Don’t wanna putcha money where ya mouth is, kid. Get it movin’.”

Still bickering, Robin lets the Red Hood pull him down in the window of the clinic waiting room. What neither of them expected to see?

Two of the Titans just, you know, catching up on Vogue or what the fuck ever they thought they were doing.

“Oh shit,” Kon gasps when the vigilantes found their feet inside the room.

“That would be an understatement,” is Bart’s absent come-back, but he’s already on his feet, eyes darting down the dim hallway.

“I’ll be damned. Howdy, boys. Been a minute, yeah? How’s kicks?”  But Hood seems to put two and two together as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and the helmet slowly turns to Rob so the Bats can exchange the look.

“Fine. Good. All good,” Bart backpedals quickly, pulling his phone out to shoot a super-fast text. “Nice night to be in Gotham and all! It’d be just stellar if Batman didn’t have to hear about this, okay?”

Hood is dead still, helmet fixed on where KF is thumbing his phone. “Seems like we been bamboozled, Rob. I think our boys here ain’t in Gotham ta take in the sights.”

Rob immediately goes still right behind Hood’s shoulder. “You are missing your usual third,” the youngest Alpha growls out low. “Where is he?”

Kon slowly throws up both hands, draws the attention to himself. “Hey, c’mon. We are all on the same side here. Let’s not forget that. Good guys, right? But seriously, Tim is here to see the doc for some routine Omega shit. And yeah, that’s pretty fucking awkward to talk about, so why not tone down the scary vibe just a smidge?”

“Routine?” Only slightly losing the tenseness in his spine, Rob makes it a question because he is learning, Grayson. Honestly, he is no longer inclined to stab random Metas on their side of the Mission.

“Yup,” KF rocks on his heels, “we’re tagging along for moral support. And the sweet arcade he promised has those really bad 80’s games.”

Rob hums a little, and Hood takes a second to unlatch the helmet, whiteouts up on his dom. “Ya don’t say?” But he sees the way neither of Red’s besties will look him in the eye, wonders what Brat Flash is saying to Tim, and what (his) the pack’s Omega is really doing back there at the end of the dim hallway. “Well, think I’ll go back just to let Leslie know we got next, you feel me?”

“Hood, c’mon, man,” Kon tries because he really, really doesn’t want to have a knock-down-drag-out with the Batfamily in a medical clinic.

But the choice is taken out of both their hands when the Red Hood steps up a little closer, might give the Titans a second ta come clean about what’s doing with Timmy–

When he catches the scent.

It’s just a hint, just a little scared/worried Omega that the Red Hood pauses, leans in enough to pick-up a little more.

KF and Superboy know they might have hit oh shit levels when the green fleck in Hood’s blue eyes darken to jade.

“Uh-oh,” KF breathes out, both hands up, but Superboy gets it.

“Hold on, just hold on a minute.”

But Jason Todd turns on his heel without a word and strides right down the hallway with every muscle in his body tense. (An’ the fact he can even smell traces of Omega, not to mention stress and anxiety adding a bitter edge is telling that something sure as shit ain’t right here–not with how on point Timmy normally is with his suppressants and scent blockers. All of it triggers the Alpha in him to find, protect, mine, mine.)

“Hood?” Robin blinks over at the older Alpha, but he gets no response. Instead, Rob’s turns sharply back to the null and Alpha heroes, blocking their view of Hood’s retreating figure.

“You two will explain this to me. What has happened with my predecessor?”

“Wait, just wait, Jason!” KF darts around Robin, grabs Hood’s elbow, “you can’t go back there! He’s already freaking the fuck out, man! This isn’t going to help!”

With a meta on each Bat, Superboy is fervently hoping they don’t have to destroy Leslie Thompkins’ nice office.

The changes, however, are grim.

Those eyes outlined by the dom narrow dangerously, “yer gonna tell me why y’ smell like my ‘Mega, and why said ‘Mega don’t smell any kinds a’ fine.”

Kid Flash, Bart, since he ain’t in the mask, stares at him with wide eyes, “…your Omega?”

And well, Jason ain’t got a whole bunch fer that now does he?

“Timmy’s part a’ my pack, ‘at’s all ya need ta get.”

“He’s part of our pack, too, Hood. Why else do you think we’re here? Batman hates Metas in his city, remember?”

“Ain’t tellin’ me nothing useful, Kid.”

“How about this, then? If Tim wanted any of the Batfamily involved, then you would have already been here.”

“Nice try. Timmers don’t call when he oughta, ‘n ya know that. He don’t take care when he needs ta, don’t let no body in on the plan, see? Sometimes we just gotta remind him who’s got his back, yeah?”

Bart’s hands fist at his sides, his jaw going tight.

“An’ ya know we’re better with, Baby Bird. Been seein’ ‘im through his needin’ time, been there when he needs ta leggo of the fucking mask And ya know,” Hood pokes a finger in the younger hero’s chest, “ya shoulda called at least one a’ us if Timmy is as bad off as the smell comin’ off’in ya. Believe me, Kid, you n’ me are gonna have a whole fuckin’ lot ta talk about later, but fer right now? Yer gonna back it off, n’ lemme go back an’ check on my boy, now do you motherfucking feel me, here?”

Conner Kent takes a step toward them, “Dude, believe me when I tell you, seeing you is only going to make it worse. And no onewants that.”

“An’ whad if I promise ya all’s I’m gonna do is take care a’ m’ boy? No matter what’s doing behind that door, an’ I fucking mean, whatever’s goin’ down, I’m gonna be there fer my pack.”

“‘We,’ Hood,” Robin fills in shortly, sniffing in disdain, “he is part of our pack, and we shall not abandon him. This I promise as the blooded son of the Bat.”

Conner groans out loud, facepalming. “This is going to go badly. Very, very badly.”

“He just needs a little time before he talks with the Bats, can you at least give him that?” Bart makes one last desperate bid, looking from one to the other.

“If he didn’t smell like that? Yeah, yeah I coulda, but I know that scent, bub, and Timmy don’t need ta be by his damn self right now.”

Jason Todd give a two fingered salute, eyes going over Bart’s head to Robin, and the understanding is made.

Fast, even with the pending stitches, Robin snags his line, throws it around Bart’s legs the same time he flashes a piece of pretty green rock, not enough to kill, just enough to keep the meta from jumping.

The slight commotion is done in less than a minute and with as little fighting as possible. Nice ta know Demon’s got Timmer’s back when he needs ta.

With the supers busy, Jason Todd slides through the door at the end of the hall, following his nose and eyes, looking in the empty exam rooms.

But when Jay catches it, catches that scent, one that he only knows inside the bedroom, only knows when Tim is heavy-eyed, flushed from his cheeks to his chest, pliant in his hands, and (finally) making those low noises of need.

It’s the smell of Omega, not muted or blunted.

(Off his suppressants?)

And the tinges, the bitterness at the edges hit him like a truck, make his heart pick up under the body suit.

His ‘Mega is scared, and that don’t sit real well with him.

Nope, not at all.

It don’t take a detective ta see only one door is closed down the sterile corridor, one his feet take him to immediately. It shows his level of restraint when he doesn’t bust down the door right off, but his gloved hands grip the doorframe tight.

“Timmers. S’me, Baby Bird. Gonna let me in, yeah? Let’cha Alpha c’min an’ talk at chu f’ a minute.” And he can’t help how his tone drops, tries to be a purr, tries to ease the boy through the door without even seeing him.

“Wh-what the hell are you even doing here?” The door doesn’t open, and Jay can hear it in Tim’s voice, no matter how much the younger vigilante tries to play it off and act normal.

“Rob’s stitches. Ain’t important.  Brat’s havin’ a word with yer people. But what’s doing right now, baby, is how ya need ta open the door.” Because nothing about this sitch is puttin’ him at ease.

The silence on the other end ain’t doing him any favors either. If he didn’t know that room, know there was no windows and only one tiny vent, he might worry about a half-assed escape attempt.

“Timmy, ya wanna I call Dickie? S’at what’cha need?”

“No!”

Makes him jump, makes everything a whole lot more serious.

“Don’t–don’t call him. Not until I know, just, fuck, please, Jay. Don’t call Dick.”

With the panic, the fear in Tim’s voice, Jason Todd shoves the door open abruptly, no thinking required. It takes even less to stalk across the small exam room where (his, their) the Omega is standing, phone out, probably already making some kind of contingency.

But Jay knows Timmy now. Knows him down to the bone, and don’t give him no time ta do anything other than sputter and try to back up against the gurney ‘cause he ain’t got nowhere ta run this time.

It’s just like going home, wrapping his arms around the shaking vigilante, taking in the civvies, the terrified, wide eyes.

He even lets Timmy fight him a little, struggle to pull out of his hold, but he gets there’s something wrong here. Another vigilante, Timmy ‘specially, should be able to throw him, duck and dodge, use everything at his disposal.

But he ain’t even trying, not really.

So Jay holds on, gets a gloved hand up to pull the hood away and thread his fingers in the snarl of too-long hair just like Dickie does, scratches at Timmy’s scalp while pushing him closer to the scent gland in Jason’s throat, gives him a little whiff of safe Alpha.

At the same time, he gets a deeper inhale of the Omega sweetness, bitter at the edges with worry and anxiety, mixed with just a lil’ bit of–

And Tim knows the second Jason Todd gets it.

He suddenly can’t breathe, the Alpha scent changing from something safe and familiar to choking, overpowering. This time he puts real effort into shoving Jason back, something under his skin clawing to get the fuck away.

“Timmy…” and those are wide outlined by the domino, the green flecks fading back into the blue, “Tim, s’alright, baby, yeah?”

Somehow he’s moved as far away as he can, crouching up on top the counter, squeezed between some cabinets, gripping one with the hand not held out in front of him to ward Jason off. It’s stupid how the Omega instincts in him made him react automatically, made him try to appear smaller, weaker, to protect himself (and his possible young) without baring his throat.

“Don’t–!” But the words die in his mouth because he doesn’t know if he means don’t say it or don’t touch me. Maybe both.

And it breaks Jason’s heart just a little, looking at Tim backing away, trying to hide, trying to make himself a smaller (an’ he’s seen the same shit on the streets when he was a little shit, packless Omegas what with nothing but ta sell themselves). When one hand moves, twitches to his flat stomach, the influx of information is cemented with that movement right there.

Jay’s mental Alpha rolodex starts spitting out facts, lining them up with the Omega he’s staring down, raising both palms up in that ain’t dangerous, never ta ya, Sweets, kind of way.

Going off his suppressants ‘cause it ain’t safe fer a young.

Smell a’ Baby Boy still lingerin’ even if it is faint; if Timmy’s carrying Dickie’s young, then it’ll get strong the further ‘long he gets

The brief flare of anger fades in the bitterness of Tim’s obvious fear. And even though he should be right pissed (his, their) the Omega held this back, wasn’t gonna let ‘em be here when he needed, was just gonna walk this road on his own, Jay makes himself take a breath to clear his raging thoughts and focus on the way Tim’s eyes are desperately looking over his shoulder at his only way out.

“Gotta calm down, baby,” he keeps his voice low, almost a purr, “an’ talk ta me. S’alright. M’ here f’ my good ‘Mega. Alpha’s right here f’ ya, baby.” His gloved fingers flicker in, an invitation to the stressed vigilante curled in on himself, looking about ready to shake apart. “C’mere ta me. C’mere and lemme hol’ on ta ya.”

And he sees Tim’s hand tighten on the cabinet, sees the red starting around his eyes and down the bridge of his nose, realizes how close, how tight Tim’s got it all packed up in his own head, how he’s probably been trying to keep up on his shit and appear like there isn’t anything wrong.

(He shoulda come to them. Damn, Timmy oughta know by now, he can always, always come to them.)

The thought of his Omega, his partner, his packmate, stressed and alone and possibly carrying young makes his inner Alpha push him to take another step, for his chest to rumble under the bodysuit with a low, soothing purr, just a noise to try putting Tim at some kind of ease.

“D-Don’t!” he tries again, voice thick, breath hitching in his chest, and dammit, his hand finally drops to his lower belly, curves around, his eyes hot and wet again. “Please, please, just go. Don’t tell Dick, but just–”

“Uh-hu. Nothin’ doin’. I’mma stay right here wit’ ya, right where ya need me, yeah? Gonna be a good Alpha ta m’ pretty ‘Mega. Gonna be right here, you feel me?”

His Alpha purr and scent start to work (miracle of fucking miracles) because Tim curls in on himself, bows his head over his knees, and wraps his other arm over his still flat abdomen, tries to hide when his eyes spill over.

“I don’t–I don’t know f-for sure. Leslie…blood test…” is hoarse and shaky, his face hidden so no one has to see his weakness, so Jason Todd, the Alpha that occasionally takes care of him (that holds him, feeds him, kisses him, knows his body, knows his contingencies, knows him) won’t have to look.

The hand wrapping around his ankle makes him twitch, try to jerk away, but Jay’s grip doesn’t give, not even a little.

And his wet face comes up to see the gentle fondness in Jay’s expression because the Alpha is standing right against the counter where Tim is crouched down, hiding.

The purr doesn’t ease up, and Jason’s face doesn’t change even when his hands move up, easy-like and firm, pulling a little with each new grip until he’s got both arms full of stressed, anxious, and possibly pregnant Omega. It’s nothing to walk them over to the gurney and ease them both down on it, to fold his legs up, and nestle Timmy right down in the niche, hold on ta him tight, just like he needs it.

“Gonna calm it all down now, ain’tcha, baby?”

“Jay…you shouldn’t be here, this–this isn’t–”

“Mmhm. Prolly smart ya don’t finish that sentence, Timmers.”

So the younger vigilante just lays his forehead against the side of the Alpha’s throat, one arm around his midsection, the other hand over his eyes because dammit, dammit.

“Demon’s got’cher fan club busy. Might be the right time ta make a call.”

And, nope, he doesn’t need to be a world-class detective to know where that is going. The thought of Dick being here, of the two of them waiting with him to get the news, to know. It makes his chest so fucking tight at the same time eases something already there. “How… am I going to tell him? How can I–?” Do that? To him, to me?

“Jus’ like ya tell ‘im any damn thing, Timmers. It’s Dick.”

Jason tightens an arm to keep his Omega right in his lap, fishes his comm out with the other hand and holds it out, taps Tim on the cheek with it.

Clenching his jaw, closing his eyes tight, Tim takes it with a shaky hand, and fits it in his ear. He can almost breathe when he taps it on.

“Hey, Hood! How’s Rob?” Is the voice that makes his stomach drop, makes the swirling nausea rise up, makes him swallow down the bile in his throat.

“It’s–” and he just breathes, “it’s Red.”

(But for how much longer?)

“Baby Bird! Forgot to mention you’re in town again, I see?” The teasing is only slightly twisted with the underlying dad lecture.

“S-something like that,” he tries, clears his throat, but even though he’s the guy that lies to fucking Batman, it’s too close to Tim Drakefor his bullshit tech to be on point.

(Not to mention he’s cuddled in an Alpha’s lap because he probably smells about as mentally broken as he feels.)

Which can only mean one thing: the sixth sense strikes again.

“Where are you?” Is immediately no bullshit, but N’s hard tone when it’s about to get real.

“I’m…there’s no reason to–”

“Where. Are. You?”

And his breath catches on a sob before he can just fucking stop it. There’s too many things welling up, too much fear and anxiety, too many what ifs? The possibility of giving up his cape, his life, the possibility of a perfect person, of something so infinitely precious, something any of their enemies could try to take, try to kill, try to hurt–

“A-Alpha,” spills out of Tim’s throat with some kind of stupidly pathetic whine.

He bites down on his lip when the sounds of movement in the night takes precedent, and Jay pulls the comm out of his ear, uses the other hand to tighten down again.

“Hey, N. We’re at Les’ clinic. Rob’s stitches gonna wait a minute, but it’d be nice if’n ya could put in an appearance, you feel me?”

“Hood–!”

“Tell ya when we see ya, Baby Boy. Nothin’ life threatenin’ but still, howz ‘bout ya make it snappy.” And he clicks the comm off, gives the Omega in his arms his attention again.

And if he purrs like a motherfucker, it only helps to ease Timmy down a little more. It’s nothing really to slide a hand up, work around the extra fabric between him and his target, but he finally gets to wrap a palm right around the back of Tim’s neck, to put just a small amount of pressure, ease his fingers in just the right way, enough strength for Timmy to go a little slack, for the shaking to ease down, and the bitterness tainting his natural scent to slack off.

It gets his ‘Mega ta take a deep fucking breath and finally come outwith it.

“…scared…I’m- dammit, I’m scared.”

“‘Course y’ are, baby,” he says gently against that too-long hair. “S’natural, see? But cha don’t gotta worry. Got me n’ Dickie. B n’ Alf. Demon n’ Babs n’ Steph. Y’know Cass is gonna shit kittens‘cause outta anybody, she’s the fucking baby whisperer. Then there’s alla the Titans. Supes and Di. Even that fucker Booster Gold, and ain’t no body like that fool. But really, Timmers, no need ta worry. We gotcha, yeah?”

And dammit, Jay. Dammit, if that doesn’t get him started all over again.

“Please stop talking,” is muffled in his hand, but he scrunches up even smaller in Jason’s lap, burrowing into the leather jacket, not giving a shit about the holsters digging into his side. “I don’t want to think about Booster while I’m having a crisis, thanks.”

“Ah, there’s m’ sweet lil’ ‘Mega,” Jay croons against his hair. “S’all gonna be fine, n’matter whatcha decide ta do. Pack’s got yer back, Timmy.”

And that arm around his midsection tightens again, “B…is going to be disappointed. I-I don’t even know about Dick. I mean…fuck, Jay. A baby? A-a real baby? What do I even know about babies? I was one, a long time ago, but that’s about it. What if I drop it, what if I hurt it by mistake? What if crazy megalomaniac immortal bad guys want it for his heir or something? What do I even? H-How am I going to–”

“Sshh. Do it just like everybody else, Tim. Day at a time,” and it’s like Jay has all the answers, knows just what he needs to hear.

And the clock ticks softly in the corner of the room, gently keeping pace, and suddenly sounding a lot less like a countdown than it had before.

**

When Nightwing hits the window and makes his usual entrance on the sly, he gets hit with more than the normal amount of unexpected.

Since the whiteout are up, no one can tell he’s doing a slow-blink behind the mask, but his head tilts to the side like an inquisitive puppy, something like mirth on his face.

“I think we can put the Kryptonite away, Baby Bat. Mr. Kent doesn’t really look that dangerous tonight.”

The meta lying out on Leslie’s waiting room couch give him an absurdly grateful look while Bart raises a bored eyebrow, trapped in one of B’s speed-stoppers (just a nifty little gadget when they come across the random fast bad guy).

“I am interrogating them, Nightwing. As such, I needed them in one place.” Robin explains patiently, sitting cross-legged on the old table between two stacks of out-dated magazines.

(Ooh! Highlights! No, wait. Focus, Dick. Puzzles and fun times later)

“That’s enough. We’re on the same side here, Robin.” He crosses his arms over his chest, grins down at the two Titans, “hey boys. I thought you were going to give Batman a little heads-up beforecoming to Gotham.”

With the kryptonite finally gone, Conner can sit up enough to sway a little. “I really, really fucking hate that shit,” he sneers out between gritted teeth.

Robin raises an unimpressed eyebrow even with the domino and releases the speed trap for Bart Allen to land right on his ass.

Nightwing just tisks at him, “then you should have at least calledbefore jumping into Gotham’s seedy side, Little Blue.”

Bart, however, stands slowly and dusts himself off, glaring at the taller vigilante in uncharacteristic annoyance.

“We’re not in Gotham as Titans, Dick,” he spits out, “we’re here for Tim, so you can seriously cut the lecture.” Those eyes go to Robin, a Robin who has visibly straightened in the offense to his mentor, “and you. Pick up a dictionary and look up the word ally so you actually know what the hell it means. That shit was completely unnecessary.”

The younger vigilante seems a little flustered at the reprimand, looking up at the similarly surprised Nightwing.

“I–”

“Fuck you,” Bart cuts him off at the knees while helping his teammate sit up without falling over; knowledgeably, he shoves Conner’s head between his knees to let him breathe it out. “It’s so easy to wave kryptonite around because you have no idea how much it hurts, right? Must be nice to be such a douche and get away with it, Robin.”

“I! I was not attempting to–”

“Does it even matter? Look at the result!” Bart gestures to the recovering Conner who is trying very, very hard not to either hurl or laugh at his bestie getting all kind of indignant with the Bats to try giving Tim time he probably needs.

(They both have an idea as to how this little reveal with Nightwing is going to go.)

“Hey, hey–” and like usual, N plays the big brother role, placating with both palms out, “Kid has a point, Rob. Little Blue didn’t deserve to be whammied, and yes, KF, there was that one time I swapped bodies with Clark, so I do know how much kryptonite sucks, thank-you very much.” The whiteouts swing to the blustering Robin, “and Baby Bat is going to sincerely apologize, right?”

Robin’s mouth drops open, “what?! Absolutely not, N. They have no right to keep information concerning our Omega to themselves if he is in need of medical care! He is of our pack as well and–!”

The oh shit hits when N twitches, “what?”

“Dammit,” Conner breathes out under his breath.

“The Red Hood has already gone back to search for him,” Robin gestures down the hallway for N’s benefit. “And these two have given me no information as to why he is here other than pathetic attempts to deflect.”

“He wanted to do this himself, and it’s his business, Rob. Some of us have respect for privacy!” Bart snaps back, pointing a finger, “if T wanted the Bats in on it, he would have called.”

“He does not call unless he is near death, Allen, and if anyone is well aware of his highly inadequate self-preservation instinct, it is you.”

“Why the hell do you think we’re in Gotham in the first place?!”

“Nightwing, will you please tell these idiots–” and Rob turns, but the older vigilante is already

Gone.

Bart pointedly jerks a little (because that? Is really a superpower, he doesn’t care what Gar says), and Conner finally looks woozily up just to say, “well, shit.”

**

His Alpha hindbrain is right on the money when N comes through the door at a fast stride; he doesn’t expect the face full of sweet Omega scent right off the bat because Tim goes above and beyond to use suppressants and scent blockers, but this is really unmistakeable.

(It’s the same scent he wants to wrap himself in when Timmy is happy and content, when he’s fed and full and sleepy. The scent that proves he’s been a good Alpha, taking care of his Omega.)

He notices when his entrance makes Tim flinch, to spin around from where he was pacing, arms tight against his chest, and makes a mental check to try and be easy.

“Tim,” is a warning, “don’t run, it’s okay. We’re right–”

And then his brain translates the change to that scent, his own musk riding on the sugary sweet, the depths of anxiety and fear, the way Tim drops his arm from around his midsection.

“–…here.”

“It’s fine,” because all Tim has at the moment to delay the inevitable is his mouth, “I started feeling run-down, remember? So, I’m here for a blood test, just-just that, so it’s fine. I don’t even know why I did that stupid thing over comms, I mean, seriously.”

But even when he runs out of breath for the scared babble, he sees the way Dick’s pretty much frozen to the spot for a few seconds, not even his chest giving for breath.

It’s an automatic reaction to back up, back away, and try to make himself smaller, a harder target in case, just in case–

(“The Omega’s primary purpose after insemination is to protect its’ young. The instincts will dictate the basis of this biology.”)

Jay is suddenly off the gurney, paused and waiting for Big Wing ta get with it now.

“Oh,” Dick finally breathes out, his whiteouts tracking the Omega with an intent focus. “Oh, Timmy,” he eases a step forward, distracting the overwrought Omega by pulling off his domino completely so Tim can see him bare-faced.

And it’s a crazy thing, instincts, how they drive the muscle and bone, how it becomes a reaction because Tim has to bite down on his lower lip to keep the stupid noises from spilling out of his mouth, so the high whine, the call to his pack, his Alpha, a whine that tells everyone how fucking terrified he is, stays locked in his chest and gets swallowed back down.

“I-I don’t…I don’t know yet–”

But it doesn’t stop Dick from reaching out and palming the sides of Tim’s face, tilting him up, so he can look at those eyes and nuzzle against his nose affectionately.

“Calm down, Pretty Bird. It’s time to calm down,” is all Alpha purr until one of Dick’s hands slide back and down, the gloves fingers rasping over his skin until the grip tightens at the back of his neck and makes his knees knock a little.

The hold eases him down enough that Tim doesn’t fight being pulled right against the front of his Alpha’s body, doesn’t fight being wrapped up in an inescapable octopus hold, doesn’t fight his face being pushed into Dick’s jugular to the Alpha scent can go even further to calm him down.

And if he’s just suddenly gripping Dick’s biceps, well–

When did that happen again?

He still doesn’t fight it when gentle kisses are pressed to the side of his throat while Dick walks him backwards without letting go for a second. He does look up enough to see Jason easing down, meeting his eyes with the silent conversation. The softness in his (mate) second’s eyes, and it’s crazy how they both have just a hint, just a little…

Hope.

Together, they pick up their Omega and arrange themselves on the uncomfortable gurney wrapped up together. The dual purring is broken up with soft assurances, with confidence in his choice, with we’re all with you, no matter what.

While they wait, he grudgingly answers the questions, talks about the symptoms, starts to think with his brain instead of the possibilities looming ahead. And even with how all his contingencies could go wrong, how he could fuck everything up if this is it, they talk him into seeing the future surrounded by a bunch of lovable assholes that are def going to have his back.

The musings go from Alfred cleaning Master Bruce’s old nursery to prepare for Sir’s Grandson to Bruce buying out part of FAO Schwartz and stuffing the second floor full of detective-themed everything to the baby gates in the Tower because of course the kid is going to try for the training deck, Jay can just feel it. Dick picks it up with Steph being the cheek-smushing aunt that baby talks forever and Little D sneaking in through the vents so he can hold their newest pack member in the rocking chair for a while without anyone seeing it.  But the worst is gonna be Cass. ‘Cause once she gets a baby, better look out. That kid is gonna be bawling if she’s gotta let ‘im go.

By the time the knock on the door is soft and unobtrusive, by the time they get to the part where the Justice League is kicking the utter shit out of Ra’s al Ghul’s army of assassins while Bean (and yes, Dick totally already calls it Jellybean) is fucking around with the system to set the whole place ready to blow sky high, by the time Tim is laughing between them and thinking, just thinking, maybe it’s…it’s all going to be fine. They’re going to band together, they’re going to be a real pack for his young, they’re going to–

By the time Dick is smiling softly down at him and Jason laughing in the back of his neck at it all, Tim is pretty well on board with how fine this could really be–

Leslie steps inside and softly closes the door.

Chapter Text

**

1

When he finally answers his comm, it’s only because he’s tired of hearing the damn thing go off.

“Let me guess,” he says before the person on the other end can start, “someone has had a really rough night and might have gone a little off the deep end?”

N’s rough tone gives him all the deets he really needs, “I need you to get to a safe house. Now, Red. There’s no way to predict how he might react to you, and I have no idea if his inner Alpha is going to be able to get through the Pit’s influence to recognize you, especially if you’re wearing scent blockers. But what I do know is that I’m not willing to risk you to find out.”

“Mm,” Red shifts just slightly, and the low sound, something bordering on pain, makes him take his finger off the comm and tighten down his hold, make a soothing purr in the back of his throat. He lifts his knees so he can wrap his calves around the back of thighs, use his strength to make sure the hold is firm and seemingly inescapable. Red had already ditched his gloves and gauntlets, took off his utility belt fifteen minutes in to this little sitch once the damn thing was leaving imprints on his hips. The cape was the next piece to go, and he’d pulled down the catch on his suit low enough so the nose could nuzzle at his collarbone and the base of his throat.

“Red? The only reason I’m saying this is because it would kill him to know he fought you, even if he’s out of his head. If he manages to land one on you, he’s going to be a mess, okay? You know that, I know that, and that’s why–”

The whimper at those words, the arms around his back, the body laying in the curve of him starting to just curl in on itself, all the signs of how utterly correct Nightwing is on that assessment.

Red shushes him absently, runs his bare hand through the tangled mess of hair and makes more soothing noises.

“We’re okay,” and there’s so much affection in his tone that the tension eases out just a little, just enough to give him room to keep going, “see? You didn’t hurt me even though you probably should have. We took care of it, and we’re all fine. I’m here. I’m right here and I’m not leaving you.”

“Red? Red? Are you getting out of sight?”

He keeps up the petting while tapping the comm with the other hand, “already out of sight, N, and it’s okay. No need to worry.”

“…you’re already with him, aren’t you? Thank God. Is he okay? Did he get hurt? Does he need me? Do you need me? Just say the word, baby, and–”

“I think we’re good, but if you want to come by to say hello, he’d probably be glad to see his Alpha.”

“Got it. Give me deets, Red, and I’m on my way.”

“We’re at the safehouse close the Market Street, the one with the Keurig. I’m lucky my Alphas know my caffeine habits.”

There’s a snuffle at his neck and Jason Todd stretches out to nose further in to his skin and scent.

“Then I suppose I should swing by for donuts on the way.”

“And how am I supposed to watch my girlish figure if you’re bringing treats, N?”

He jumps a little at the warning nip to his jugular and laughs abruptly at the chastisement. Hair petting resumes as Jason settles back into his body and lets out a deep sigh of contentment.

**

2

Hood is flying the Batwing like his life fucking depends on it. Panic is making him hyper-focused on the controls, on the numbers running across his screen, on Rob’s constant talk trying to calm their Alpha down.

Everything they’ve done so far is failing.

Whatever the fuck Ivy hit N with has sent him in an end-all rage, a level few Alphas could even hit–

And lucky them, their Pack Alpha is just one out of a few hundred thousand that could.

The intense scent choking the cockpit is only blocked by the helmet filtering his air and the mask Rob has on to keep them from being affected, from getting down on their knees and baring their throats to him in submission. Luckily, Rob had thought fast and put on the mask before the scent became so overpowering it would have made them probably submit rather than get the fuck with the plan.

“It’s going to be all right, Hood,” Red is saying soothingly from his Perch in Titan’s Tower, the current destination. “I’ve already broken down the compound. I can’t necessarily make an antidote for it, but I’m sure we’re going to find a way to break him out of the Rage.”

“Timmy, there is no fucking way, I’ma let ya get close ‘nough ta do nothing while Dickie’s like this. He could rip ya the fuck apart, n’ we both know it–”

“When has there ever been a time I haven’t had a plan, Jay?”

“Don’t give a shit how many plans ya got. We’re puttin’ him in isolation, n’ letting him ride it out if there ain’t an antidote ya can give ‘im, do you fucking feel me here?”

“You’re not getting it. There is an antidote, but I have to be there in person to give it to him.”

From the back where they’ve got N secured to a chair, manacles and straps to make sure he doesn’t break free and try to kill them before the plane can land, Robin turns enough to point a gloved finger at Red’s face on the screen.

“Drake–”

“Dami, c’mon. You know you can trust me with this. I’m not going to get hurt, and I’m not going let anyone else get hurt. Let me see what I can do before we go to Plan B okay?”

“There is no fucking way I’m leavin’ ya alone with him, Timmers. No way in hell.”

“I’ll make you a deal, Jay. If he’s not thirty percent calmer within five minutes, I will absolutely be fine with you joining us. Well, not that I’m not fine with that already, you know.”

And oh.

Oh.

Jay’s eyes get huge behind the whiteouts when he finally picks up what Timmy’s laying down for him. Still, he chances a glance to the struggling Alpha, the one they had to muzzle because he’s been baring his teeth and snapping, because it had taken literally everycontingency they had to capture him and lock him the fuck downwithout hurting him. Even knockout gas hadn’t taken their Alpha down for the count.

And as proud as it made them, there was still too much of a possibility he could do some serious damage.

“Trust me,” Red grins from the screen, “I’m going to take very good care of him.”

Hood is still skeptical until they get Big Wing moved to the isolation room in Titan’s Tower and a freshly showered Tim Drake meets them as they’re half-way across the room. He’s only wearing a t-shirt and sweats, sporting a sly smile and damp, too-long hair.

“Rob, you are not going to want to watch this. Hood, the monitoring system is on outside the room so you can duck in whenever you need to, but seriously? I just need the two of you to vamoose and let me take care of this.”

“Drake…Tim, should he harm you, he will never forgive himself or us for allowing it to happen.”

“Least lemme stay in the room. Gimmie that, yeah?”

“First off: Dami, trust me when I say I only have to do one thing and he will absolutely not hurt me. Jay, give me ten minutes and if you need to bust in and save me, then you have every right to do so. Now, you two go. Shoo. I’ve absolutely got this.”

And Tim gives a wave while the reinforced door slides open with a soft sigh, his grin wide and white before he disappears inside.

The blackout windows don’t give anything away, but Hood’s eyes are literally glued to the screen showing what’s doing inside that room.

He swallows hard, has to take off the helmet, puts up the whiteouts so he can watch.

Timmy starts off by peeling off the t-shirt, talking low to the growing Alpha, and…and what he’s wearing underneath.

Is almost enough to make Jason Todd swallow his fucking tongue.

When the sweats come off and he gets full fucking load of lace and silk, of their Omega wearing something so fucking nice and pretty, of their Omega biting his lower lip, standing in front of the crazed Alpha, sliding a hand down his body until he’s stroking himself and talking, saying such dirty things–

“Why do I have to touch myself? Alpha, you’re supposed to make me feel good, you’re supposed to take care of me, and I need you *gasp* I need you to touch me…Alpha…Alpha… I want you to make me come…”

Jason has to literally stand the fuck up when Timmy just turns around and drops to his knees, bends over on all fours on the floor. His ass is outlined so beautifully in those panties, his cheeks pink when he looks to the side so he can keep an eye on the restrained Alpha while he slides the panties off his pert little ass, gets them low enough to stay around the tops of his thighs, but not completely off.

(That’s for yer Alphas ta do, ain’t it, Timmy?)

Banishing the Demon to give an update to Alfred still probably pacing worriedly in the Cave is the best call he’s made today. He tells the kid some matin’ might be going down, and he’ll comm if Big Wing takes another turn.

It gives him privacy needed to watch and turn the sound on low, so he can stand there and pant, can get fucking hard as a rock while Big Wing strains against his restraints because of the sight and scent and the low, needy whine that is so much an Omega that needs to be taken care of, that needs to be touched and tasted and had.

It’s better and worse when Timmy runs his hands up his thighs, bites down harder on his lip, and spreads himself open.

“I’m so wet, Alpha,” is the low rumble of their Omega’s voice, “I need to be touched, I need to be opened for your cock and your knot. I need you to fill me up. I want it, Dick. I want it so bad.”

And for the first time in the hours since Ivy hit their pack Alpha with a whole lot of bad, Nightwing goes completely, absolutely still.

From the angle of his head, Hood can tell N is looking at that tight little hole, is probably so fucking hard in his jock it must be killing him.

Timmy stops holding himself open and rolls on his back abruptly, his hard cock jutting up from his body, the panties staying right where they are on his thighs, and that cute little nightie (something they’ve both told him they’d love to pick out for him, to put on him, to seehim in something so sexy, something made for Omegas, something he could absolutely have if he ever wanted) shows the hard points of his nipples begging for fingers and mouth, to be sucked until he’s moaning for it.

Jay literally snarls in want when Tim’s hand goes back to his hard cock, starts stroking himself slowly, moaning, bracing his feet so he can tilt his hips up (‘cause it’s his job ta do that, ta make Timmy feel good and hot and aroused; it’s his and Dickie’s job ta make him moan, ta make him pant, ta make him wet n’ wantin’ and fuck it takes everything in him to fight the instinct to go in there right goddamned now and take).

“I-I…oh, oh, oh… It doesn’t feel as good like when you touch me. Alpha, Dick, I want you to touch me like this.”

And after hours, hours, of only growling and snapping, of feral Alpha instincts to fight, the tone from behind the muzzle is low and hoarse and full of heat, “let…let me go. I’m going to fuck you…until you come for me, Omega.”

Looking over his body without releasing his hard cock, Tim fumbles for the remote he’s taken out of his sweats before stripping down to the lingerie. He holds the thing out but doesn’t press the button, keeps up the motion of his moving hand.

“Are…ahhh…are you going to kiss me, Alpha?”

The growl becomes less dangerous in degrees, become the familiar rolling purr, “yes, baby. Alpha is going to kiss you.”

“A-Are you going to take off my panties?”

“Mmhm, like ‘em on you. Don’t wanna rip those.”

“Are you going to be gentle when you open me up? I…Alpha, I need you to be gentle with me. Please,” and Jay almost comes in his suit when Timmy says it, when it makes every instinct in him scream to lay ‘im out real easy, real nice and make love to him so sweetly.

“Gonna be… so gentle with you. Good Omega, my Omega.  Alpha’s going to be easy, make you feel so good, Sweet little Omega.”

And Tim’s eyes are blown when he finally lets go of his throbbing cock, laying on the floor, looking like he needs to be utterly debauched, but he holds up the remote in a trembling hand, pausing only a second before he hits the button.

“Then…then come take me. Please, Alpha, show me I’m yours.”

Unbeknownst to the occupants inside the isolation room, Jay is the one crying out with trembling knees when the restraints unlock, when the muzzle is ripped off, and the Alpha seems to be in complete control of himself once more and obviously ready to give his Omega everything, everything he’s asked for.

**

3

Once they’ve moved into something so comfortable and secure, he honestly forgets what it was like during those years he didn’t have anyone.

Because now, when his Heat hits him unexpectedly, when his body is starting to warm and tingle, show signs he wants nothing more than to be stripped down to the skin and covered with the scent of his Alphas, he doesn’t have to hide himself away in a locked room away from the world.

Instead he can collapse in his Perch, lay out on the couch still in his suit, and tap his comm while he’s still with it enough to hit the right channel.

“Baby Bird! Didja have a good night whooping the shit outta baddies?”

At the sound of Jay’s voice, the noise coiling in his belly work up to spill out through his mouth, no hesitation, no hiding.

“Oh shit, Sweet. Sounds like yer starting up yer needin’. S’all right, yeah? Just gotta tell Alpha where ya are.”

He has enough left to tap the center of his harness in the right spot and the tracking chip activates, puts a blip on the map they all have programmed into their cells.

“Gotcha. Don’t worry, s’gonna be all right. We’re gonna come take care a’ ya.”

“Jay…”

“Mmhm, hol’ on. Here,” and the comm changes hands.

“Hi Timmy,” is Dick’s voice warm and soft.

The spike in his belly is warm and syrupy, his instincts uncoiling, the Omega in his uncurling.

“Hi Dick,” is slurry as he fumbles his gauntlets off, lets them fall beside the couch to roll under the coffee table.

“Mmhm, it sounds like you’re already starting. Are you feeling hot, Baby?”

“Y-yeah. It’s just…pre-Heat. S’okay, still have some time.”

“We’re already on the way, not even that far, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

“That’s my good Omega. I’m so proud of you, Baby, calling us when you need us. You know how much we like it when you let us take care of you.”

The warmth at Alpha’s praise makes him pant a little, makes his body start to react, prepare itself for the promise of two Alphas.

“It’s…not that hard, Dick,” he manages to get a little of his banter on, hips canting up absently.

In the background, he can hear Jay’s, “that’s what she said.”

Asshole.

But well, they’re his aren’t they?

“I know, Timmy. You like giving us what we need too, don’t you? Okay, we’re at the Ducati, so we’ll be there soon. Don’t worry, we’re going to take care of everything when we get to you.”

And without being aware, he’s purring softly in his chest, purring because his inner Omega knows they’re going to do exactly that, knows they want him, need him, will touch him, take him, love him, knows they’re not going to leave him, knows he won’t be abandoned again.

“I know you will, Alpha,” he finds himself saying softly. “I’m right here waiting for you.”

**

It doesn’t take long for hands to pull him up off his couch and the warm scents to wrap around him, soothing and familiar. He lays placidly in Jay’s arms while Dick starts putting away supplies, listens absently to them talking about his symptoms, and lets himself be carried to the bedroom. He tries help, fumbling a bit to get the harness off and find the catch on his bodysuit.

Jason leans down to nuzzle against his face, making him pause (because that feels nice) so his Alpha’s hands can start peeling him out of Red Robin’s skin.

And even though he doesn’t think about it, can’t really think of much but fuzzy contentment and how good it is to lick over Jay’s collarbone while he grips the hard muscle of Dick’s thigh, he knows in some buried part of his brain pan functioning below the Omega, that he is absolutely and unequivocally safe.

It’s only when Dick is cooing at him, fingers working to make sure he’s ready to take Jay, making his hips twitch back because fuck, it’s not enough, he needs to be full, he needs more, it’s only when Jay is laying over his back, an arm curled around him to tease his leaking cock, pressing the most gentle kisses against his scent gland, being so absurdly gentle with him, that he realizes how much he needs just something a little more.

“A-Alpha…Jay, I…please, I need–” but it ends with a helpless noise when Dick’s fingers fuck in harder, find his spot and tease.

On instinct, his upper body arches up off Dick’s chest as far as can, pressing back into Jay and move his hips against that incredible feeling shooting pleasure up his spine.

“Whazzat, Timmy?” Jay turns his face so he can see how dark his Alpha’s eyes are, how full of heat and need (…and love). “Whadda ya need, Sweets?”

And after everything, it’s amazing how the words go through his thought process before it hits his mouth, when he has a moment to stop it, how his rational mind doesn’t want him to.

“Bite me,” is more breathy than he wants it to be, “Alpha- Alpha! God, please, fucking…fucking bite me.”

Jay’s pupils blow the second he says it, and the Alpha’s scent gets thick.

“Didja just say–?!”

“Oh my God, Tim, are you sure–?”

And no, he doesn’t need a lecture on his own biology, thanks. He absolutely knows what he’s asking for, knows what just asking is doing to both his Alphas bracketing him between them just as his Heat is going to take away the opportunity.

“Jason, don’t make me beg.”

He lets out a long sigh when Dick slides out, goes to rub thumbs on his hips instead. “Tim, look at me.”

It takes a second to tear himself away from Jay’s eyes, from anticipation and want, but he focuses on his pack Alpha, bites down on his lower lip when a shift of hips and Jason’s cock is sliding right over his entrance, getting slick all over himself.

“If he bites, Timmy, there’s no going back. You know that. It’s the last step before a mating mark, the last way you can submit.”

“Yesss,” he tries to rut back, but it’s Dick’s hands holding him still. “I know… I know what it means.”

“It means he might be more inclined to mate you.”

“N-not just Jay. You too. Next round…want,” and his Heat throbs in his veins again, a pulse of arousal so hard, it leaves him gasping, his cock twitching against his abdomen to leak all over Dick’s under him.

“I… I want to submit to both of you, Dick,” is wrung out from him, desperate, fucking ridiculously needy because his intellectual mind understands the mechanics of it while his instincts are screaming at him that yes, they bite him and he’s basically theirs, putting himself in their safekeeping. Sure, a hand to the back of the back of his neck is putting himself in the most vulnerable position, is submission for the Alpha helping an O through a Heat, showing the Alpha the Omega’s willingness to be taken, but the bite to the sweet spot on the back of his neck, right at the base, is putting his safety, his trust, his faith in his Alphas. It’s the most intimate thing he could possibly give them aside from an actual, permanent mating bond.

And fuck does he want to.

So Tim can lean down and nuzzle his nose against Dick’s, can be pink in the face and smell like heaven with contentment, with arousal and need. He can let out the low whine in his chest, the call to his pack, and give their Alpha soft, sincere eyes.

“Dick…I-I want you to hold me while he fucks me and knots, and-and then when he bites,” and his body throbs, muscles clenching down at the thought, the pooling Heat in his stomach overwhelming. Jay’s arms wrap around his waist to keep his ass in the air when his body goes weak with the pulse.

But at least he succeeds in throwing Jay right off the metaphorical Alpha deep end because the vibrations against his spine are sending shivers from his hips down, and it’s Jason pressing him further into Dick, licking long slow lines up his throat, staring at Dick’s face over his shoulder while he does. (How he motherfucking wants, but won’t without his pack Alpha’s permission.)

“And then…I want him to hold me while you do the same.”

**

Dick Grayson might actually die.

Tim’s scent isn’t overpowering to suggest he’s more instinct that intellect at this point, so Dick doesn’t have any excuses to deny him (deny them all) when he gets the most arousing request of his Alpha life.

The appeal of holding their pack Omega while he’s bitten for the first time is so utterly hot, it takes Dick supreme effort not to start growling. He makes himself focus, makes himself reign in his control while Jay stares down at him intently from over their Omega’s shoulders, waiting for his answer.

Well, he only has one to give:

“We’re going to ruin him for any other Alpha, aren’t we Jay?”

The abrupt snap of teeth by his throat almost has Tim coming, but Dick is relentless, tightening around the base of his cock to make him wait for it.

“That would be a yes, fuck, please, Baby,” to contrast the hard hold on the base of his cock, the growling Alpha rutting hard against him, the mock-fuck too much tease for him to even handle. All he can do is sink further against Dick’s chest, revel the free hand rubbing soothingly up his back while Jay’s thumbs open him up, giving the Alpha the show of a lifetime.

It’s Alpha holding him and the wide tip of Jay’s cock pushing slowly into him that throws the rest of the world out of his mind, and he’s just Tim, just the Omega, groaning loudly, trying to push back into the incredible feeling, trying to get more.

Jay’s purring lowers, gets softer and soothing, thumbs rubbing as he takes his time, makes sure his Omega gets it nice and slow. Gonna open him up all gentle, then work him through the first orgasm before they pick up the pace.

(Before he gets to bite.)

“You are so beautiful when you let go, Timmy,” and Dick kisses him lazily, finally lets off the base of his cock to reach between his balls and gather up his slick where Jay is pushing into him.

Fingers and cocks and both his Alphas bracketing him in their arms, moving against him, and only Jay’s arm around his waist is even keeping him in place while it’s so toomuchnotenough. His mouth drops open and he keens.

His fists clench into the sheets by Dick’s shoulders tight enough for his knuckles to go white, and he’s wound so tight that the moment Jay bottoms out–

Dick grins against Tim’s hair, and winks over his shoulder at Jay.

Now.

Jay’s hips cant back at the same time Dick’s hand comes back, wraps around his aching, drooling cock and gives him hard, fast, wet strokes, moaning against his throat, and Tim’s eyes blow widewith what’s about to happen.

He manages, “Oh, fuck yes,” before Jay slams home, fucks in against his spot at the same time Dick hold tightens and works the head of him, making him scream when he comes.

And it doesn’t stop.

He gets approximately twenty seconds to die before Jay drawls back out and fucks firmly back into him, setting a slow, steady pace to start working him back up.

He blearily catches sight of Dick sucking come off his fingers, and leans in replace those fingers with his mouth, needing to do something while the pressure in his belly starts getting full and heavy again.

He’s caught between his Heat thrumming in his veins and the two Alphas determined to hold to their word, hands moving over him and mouths mapping scars, of Jay’s arm moving up his chest to brace him, pull him up without losing the rhythm, without even a pause, of Dick gripping his thigh, keeping him grounded, telling him how beautiful he is, how much they love taking care of him, how much they’ll treasure this, how much they want to hold him while he submits.

When it’s so close again, and he’s panting in Jay’s mouth, making low noises, licking under Jay’s chin and anywhere he can reach.

When he can feel Jay’s knot catching, opening him up more.

When “I need your knot. Alpha. ALPHA! Give it to me, please,” is all his blown brain pan can come up with, the Alphas pull and push in a smooth move to lay him back against Dick’s chest, Jay pinning him down, mouthing at the base of his neck, licking him, preparing him. Dick plants his feet, and fucks up to rub their cocks together in a smooth rhythm to Jay’s hard and fast.

Dick tangle his finger in their Omega’s hair, being a good Alpha and scratching at his scalp while baring the spot for Jay to bite.   

And even balls-deep in his instincts, in the Alpha that wants to see the beautiful Omega he’s buried inside, the Omega begging for his cock and his knot, come to a screaming completion until his legs can’t hold him, Jason Todd still leans his head back and away from that tantalizing spot, has to give Tim one last out.

“T-Timmy…” is more snarl than words, is Jay fighting with himself while still unable to stop fucking deeper, harder, trying to push more of his knot inside where he can join them, can fill his Omega full.

Still moving his hips, giving Tim that much more friction, Dick’s hand tightens in Tim’s hair, pulls with just enough strength to bring their Omega back from the edges, make him aware of Jay’s hesitation.

A shaky hand unclenches from the sheets, slides back to latch on to the moving Alpha’s ass cheek and squeeze. “Please, please, please,” is hoarse and so fucking desperate.

For just a second, something Dick would have missed if he wasn’t looking at his second, the jade flecks in his eyes get vibrantly green just as his upper lips curls off his teeth–

And he strikes.

Dick holds Tim tighter when he jerks at the brief flash of pain, sighs out loud when their Omega goes completely boneless in the next instant, eyes fluttering, and mouth falling open.

Submitting like this is like being wrapped in a warm, soft blanket, like giving in is something he’s always wanted and just never knew. The instincts he’s been trying to stop hiding, to stop burying, to stop denying are at a strange sort of peace even with the Heat burning him up from the inside out; his inner Omega purring softly, stretching out, rolling on his back to bare his vulnerable parts in trust.

He can feel Jay’s panting breath around the lock of his teeth, the swift and sure pressure of that knot so close to joining them, the slick slide of his cock against Dick’s, and the soft cooing against the top of his head that he’s such a perfect Omega for us, submitting to Jay’s bite like this, God, we’re never going to let you go, Timmy. Never. You’re the only Omega for us.

He knows his chest vibrates because he’s crying out when his body gives way and the knot fucks fully inside him, seating deep in his body, quenching the Heat when he’s finally so full.

But the haze doesn’t let up because Jay’s teeth are still in the back of his neck, not uncomfortable or painful in the slightest, but the tight hold could frightening because of the damage Jay could do to him just by biting down even harder and ripping skin and breaking bone with his jaw. Instead, it makes his chest fuzzy with contentment, lets him breathe deep, lets his instincts simmer down with the feeling of owned and his and my Alpha.

It’s the first time in his entire life, he believes, truly believes, he’s safe right where he is, and the Alpha biting down on him, taking his gift, would fight death itself to fucking save him.

Tim has no knowledge of it, but his eyes are overflowing, tears spilling down his flushed cheeks while he stays completely mindblown, drifts in semi-conscious bliss while he fucking cries.

**

He’s not aware when Jay’s knot finally goes down, but the feel of that jaw unhinging, releasing him is jarring enough to make him come back from la-la land to Dick stroking his hair gently and purring against him while Jay heaves his heavy body up and collapses beside them.

Shaky hands take him from Dick’s gentle arms, pull him when his limbs are working about as well as you could expect, and Jay wraps himself around Tim like he’s the eye of the storm, throwing a meaty thigh over his hip, pulling him in close.

Stupidly, Tim’s eyes spill over again while Jay shakes apart against him, the Alpha holding his face right against a throbbing jugular and the deep musk of Alpha, letting him fill his lungs while they get themselves back under some semblance of control. His fuzzy brain is aware of what’s happening when he feels Jay’s chest hitch in a compressed sob and the arms tighten down more if that’s even possible.

Tim manages to wiggle and arm between Jay’s shoulder and neck to hold on around those broad shoulders, wraps the other around his Alpha’s waist, pats soothingly and lets his chest vibrate softly in a contented purr.

Neither of them feel Dick bring a coverlet up over them, barely pull an inch away from each other to drink from the cool water bottle he holds for them, but stay locked against one another while the sounds of the tub in his bathroom filling start to filter in through the obvious bond now connecting them.

Against the top of his head, Jay admits gruffly, hoarsely, that no Omega ever submitted to him like that, and it’s a moment he’ll keep close for the rest of this life, Sweetheart.

Without being pushy, Dick strokes a gentle hand down Jay’s spine, a little bit of a wake-up while not trying to seem like he was going to take Timmy away.

The touch worked and Jay heaves himself and Tim up, plants his feet and stands with the Omega still wrapped around him, clinging with weak arms and the unbearable sweetness easing down now that the first round of Heat had passed.

In the tub, Jay is just as attentive as he usually is when it’s time to care for their Omega, but his eyes are softer, hands more possessive, gliding over the scars on Tim’s back and sides, washing him meticulously until he’s positive every bit of skin is clean.

Dick keeps himself busy throwing on a pair of boxers (trying to will his painful erection down because God, that was the most amazing thing he’d ever been a part of) and changing the sheets, setting out some easy things for Jay to feed Timmy once they were out of the bath. When he hears movement and water splashing, he stays close to the door and stretches as far as he can to hold out towels.

He’s careful not to overstep the boundary now that Tim has submitted to his second, knows how easy it could be to trigger Jay’s inner Alpha if he suspected Dick would try to take his Omega away. He hovers in the doorway while Jay gets them up on the edge of the tub and dries as much of Tim and himself as he can reach with the Omega laying lax in his lap.

He knows things are going to be fine when Jay blinks over at him with clear, blue eyes, narrowed a little in confusion.

“Dickie? What’s doing? Gonna help me get Sweetheart dry, yeah?”

His grin is utterly relieved when he takes up the other towel and kneels down to get the places Jay couldn’t reach while cradling their sleepy Omega.

“Oh…shit, Baby Boy,” makes him look up at Jay’s scowl.

“Hm?”

“Didn’t take care a’ ya, did I?”

“Don’t. Even. I’m fine. I was honored to be with you when you bit him, so we’re all good, okay?”

But Jason Todd arches a brow to mean self-sacrificing asshole in their universal Bat-language.

“Besides, if Tim is still fine with it. I’m going to…” and just the thought makes a shiver run over his spine.

“Ya mean ta tell me,” because Jay is grinning like an asshole, “Dick-Motherfuckin’-Grayson ain’t never bit a ‘Mega before? Why, I’m shocked, Baby Boy. Finest ass in Gotham n’ no ‘Mega beggin’ fer ya–”

“It’s not that,” Dick wraps the towel around Tim as well as he can, “I’ve just…never accepted until now. I’ve never…I don’t know, wanted to, I guess.”

But that makes Jay just a little curious, makes him reach down with his free hand and tilt his Alpha’s face up. “So’s what if’n I wanted yer bite, Dick? What if’n after Timmy’s Heat is all squared up and I ask ya fer it real nice?”

Dick doesn’t really need to answer because his eyes get dark and his scent spikes immediately. Grinning wide and white, Jay leans down, balances Tim on his lap, and lets the anticipation for this little request start to burn.

Chapter Text

**

“Oh…”

Shit. Tim usually gives a fuck when he has things like sleep, coffee, marshmallows, or an active case. However, since he has none of these things, the lack of fucks he gives is apprent when he just threw on a random hoodie in his closet without really reading it.

(Also the fact his Alphas showed up at Titan’s Tower to check on him makes none of this any better.)

N seems to be staring, absently licking his lips.

Hood, though, has no problems running his mouth. “Izzat supposed ta be an order er a suggestion, Sweets?” Is low and slightly dangerous through the synths while the Alpha works his hands by his thighs in something like anticipation.

“I don’t like the fact anyone could see you in it and make assumptions,” Nightwing finally seems to have found his tongue, the rumble in his chest starting low and deep. “Anyone other than us, I mean.”

And like his body craves it by now, Tim feels it happening when N’s scent becomes thicker, heavier. His body starts to tingle in the sensitive spots, starts to warm up, starts to get ready, and God, when had it been it become wanted over needed? 

“I feel that, Big Wing,” Hood returns, the whiteouts not wavering from their Omega’s, “can’t let some motherfucker what don’t know how ta take care a’ Timmy get the wong idea, you feel me? Our ‘Mega better get treated nothin’ but nice, or we’re gonna have a little fucking talk ‘bout manners, yeah?”

“You two are ridiculous,” he starts, eyes darting away from the shifting hips and taunt muscle outlined in Kevlar and Nomac less than twenty feet from him. “It’s just a stupid hoodie from the team, a gag gift. No. Big. Deal, really.”

And like he’d given them a reason, the two vigilantes are in motion, coming toward him with intent. 

“No big deal, Timmy?” 

Before he realizes (because of shit like sleep dep), he utters an eep when he’s just suddenly surrounded by the Alphas, Hood holding him up against the front his body and Alpha pinning him from behind.

“Gonna show ya how it ain’t a big deal.”

The purring starts up, vibrating on both sides of his body, and God do they feel so fucking good like this.

“J-Jay!”

A hand leaves so the helmet can unlock, and N noses against the base of nape of his neck, the scrape of teeth against the bone, the possibilty of his Alpha biting down on him right at that spot makes Tim almost breathless.

“Dickie,” Jason finally comes out with it, once he’s free of the helmet and the slight sweetness starts to bleed through, “think our boy been workin’ it too hard, ain’t been sleepin’, ain’t been eatin’. Whadda ya say we get ‘im nice n’ drowsy, yeah?”

Mouthing at the back of their Omega’s neck, the Alpha hums, gloves hands tightening on the thighs he’s holding, and he lets his teeth scrap across again, purrs a little louder when Tim’s scent spikes with arousal.

(And one of these days when Tim truly, honestly forgives him for being a terrible Alpha, a terrible mentor, a terrible friend, then he’s going to give in and bite down on that spot on the back of Tim’s neck, not the mating spot, not that until Tim is ready, but the spot that is all about submission.)

“I’m on board with that plan,” and he moves to the jugular, meeting Jason’s eyes over Tim’s throat, and he moves to idly trail fingertips trail over the Eat Me over Tim’s chest, “since Timmy was so thoughtful to give us the suggestion.”

Groaning, the youngest vigilante is already caught up, too overworked and sleep deprived to remember any good reasons not to stay exactly where he is.

Chapter Text

The danger, stay back is right there in the depth of Jason Todd’s growl.

It echoes across the safehouse, permeating the darkness just as clear as the moonlight reflecting off the dark jade of his eyes.

Dick sucks in a breath, purrs softly at the sweet scent of pleasured, sated Omega and satisfied Alpha mate. Slick is still thick with their scents, honey-sweet in the back of his mouth.

“Hi, Sweetheart,” and even if his second is gripping their Omega tight, keeping him spread over Jay’s lap, knotting him where Dick can see, working a hand over Timmy’s cock, rocking his hips to work his knot at the right spot, Dick’s inner Alpha is rising to the fore, wanting, with how they look together, how they smell. 

And, of course, their Tim is a mess, laying loose and boneless, trembling muscles and cute little noises with each shift of Jay’s hips. His eyes are so dark, his too-long hair standing at odd angles, and his pale hips framed by Jay’s long fingers and broad palms.

He’s too far gone to speak, his belly just slightly distended from how many times he’s been knotted.

Dick’s chest keeps vibrating with his low, soothing purr, trying to assure Jay he isn’t here to take Tim away from him. No, no. It’s fine, Sweetheart, we can share.

But Jay’s eyes narrow over Tim’s shoulder, the growl echoing again, deeper, so much stay away right there in Dick’s face. And since Jay is so far down, lost in instincts tinged with the Pit’s influence, his mouth opens, teeth white and sharp, before he moves to bite.

Tim’s eyes roll back, a keening noise ends in a whimper, and he goes completely slack under Jay’s arm across his chest, pinning him.

Dick’s mouth waters as their Omega comes, so fucking beautiful. And as much as he hates it, as much as he loves Jay, needs him like an appendage, Dick might have no other choice–

–than to fight.

Chapter Text

LOL, hi babe :D

SO, you like a little protective Jason? Welp, that makes two of us, seriously. 

Let’s just say after the whole bite thing, Jason is unbelievably drawn to tablets and computers at odd moments to check on the sensors in a certain vigilante’s suit. He’s stopped making excuses to Gar and Bart about hacking the Tower’s system to operate S.E.A.R.C.H whenever the hell he damn well feels like it, so’s you motherfuckers can just deal with it.

Jay might even know it’s his instincts, might know he’s got a need to make sure his Omega isn’t somewhere taking down international terrorists hurt as fuck partially because of biology. Of course he trusts his partner, his friend, his little shit-talker (his sweetheart, his baby doll–), but the Alpha male in his can’t help but be concerned since he knows Red has certain tendencies.

He might even get a little sneaky about it, sending texts to O and J’onn to search out the closest heroes in the area just in case shit goes down. He even manages to do a little snipering with Roy on a rooftop close to the next bad guys getting a little visit. 

Dick doesn’t even fight him on any of it, helps enthusiastically. He has no problems going in person to jump right in to the next case Red is working to make himself an absolute nuisance. 

(It’s no surprise Dick and Jay make an appearance when Red’s running on little-to-no-sleep and some gnarly possible infections from things like that owfuck from the fight with the Doom Patrol. Mind-controlling aliens are such douche canoes, right?)

But babe, oh babe. Let’s have a little what-if and take the Alpha/Omega instincts a little farther. 

Watching the displays of dominance and strength is something so ingrained in Omegas from the olden days when Alphas fought one another to haveowntake. It’s being wanted enough for two males to go at it for the honor of him, for the winner to come to him bloody and victorious, half-feral and ready to fuck like there’s no tomorrow. It’s something so raw and powerful, something so unbelievably hot, not amount of training or control could stop Tim from being absolutely wet for it. 

And it’s Dick and Jay like he’s never seen them in a fight against bad guys, has never seen them go for each like this, even in the grainy footage during the whole Battle for the Cowl thing. 

it’s snarling low and dangerous, it’s calculating moves and the thick, meaty sounds when blow after blow is taken. It’s writhing bodies and straining muscles, it’s so much amazing, Tim is helpless to do anything but wait and watch with his heart pounding, naked with only a sheet clenched in his fist (so the winner can take him immediately after, can claim his victory.) 

The way they fight each other for this is so incredibly different than when they’re Nightwing and Red Hood. Dick is Pack Alpha, going for the fast and furious that sometimes overcomes. Jay fights like an Alpha trying to protect his Omega that sometimes gets the best sneaky shots. 

But whichever one wins this time, it’s still going to be fucking glorious. 

When Jay’s the winner, he takes with every ounce of strength, growling low against Tim’s throat while he side-eyes Dick still sitting on the floor watching with intensity, knuckles white by his thighs, so hard from the fight and the picture they make. He’s got Timmy wrapped up in his arms tightly, catching the screams with his mouth, driving them both to the brink while their scents paint the room with want and need and slick and sweat. His instincts make him lean down to bite, to get perfect submission, so make Tim come once and then again when his knot locks into place. 

And after they both come down a little, heart still thundering and muscles trembling, when Jay can finally let his elbows and wrists unlock from around his sweetheart, he waves Dick over weakly while he collapses beside Timmy’s absolutely fucked-out figure. 

He gets to watch this time, eyes half-mast when Dick prowls over Tim, starting off with easy kisses, working his way down to sensitive spots and old scars. He licks and touches and sucks, moves their Omega gently, firmly, to bring him back up to hard and panting, desperately gripping and moving his hips up into Dick’s touch. It’s gentle lovemaking after the intensity of a feral fuck, Dick kissing him deeply, taking it nice and slow until Tim’s begging for faster and Jay is biting down on his lip, trying to get hard again with what a pretty fucking picture they make, yeah?

Chapter Text

He’s helplessly pinned in a fucking warehouse with his Alpha hitting the bad side of possessive male.

And all it took?

For Roman to say his ass looked exceptional in those tights. (They’re reinforced leggings you fucker.)

It might be because Hood had a once-upon-a-time bad idea relationship with the crime warlord, and it all went sideways. It might be because there was ah, a recent bite to make their complicated relationship even more complicated, but Jason’s inner Alpha literally saw green the moment Black Mask put a hand close to the back of Red’s neck during the ensuing fight.

And shit got real.

Mask was probably trying to throw his balance off since Alpha’s have an instinct to fight against a submission hold like this, and luckily, Red Robin was fast enough to duck it and bring up brillianthigh kick up to take out what remained of Roman’s face. The mask itself crumbles when the villain takes a nose-dive right on the pavement.

Once the boss was down, the rest of the thugs took off at a high-run and left the two of them in the warehouse with other out-colds ready for police transport.

Red gives a huffing laugh, still holding his bo, throwing it over his shoulders, going to ask if Hood wants to give chase or track down the traitors after they tie up the baddest of the bad.

He barely gets a breath before the Alpha male is fucking on him, pinning him down hard, the bo skittering across the warehouse floor, catching under a shelving unit.

His yelp doesn’t wake any of the thugs, Thank God, because thatwould be an embarrassing story to go around.

He’s half aware the helmet goes clattering away when Jay’s mouth is hot on his throat, that big body holding him down, hands pinning him at the wrists, knees spreading his thighs, their bodies fitting together.

And it’s telling how far gone he is for this ass-napkin when his Omega instincts immediately tell him to relax. He’s good. Alpha has him, needs to scent him, reinforce his claim.

(But Jason is humping against his ass, and if the GCPD sees this, he will die of humiliation. Seriously.)

“Hood. Hood. Okay, this is not the time, nor the place. You want to see Mask in jail right? Right?”

A snuffle at the back of his neck, the mouth moving until the sharp edge of teeth scrape over the nape and make him tremble just a little.

“Nope. Hood, not fucking cool.”

A low purr vibrates against his back, against his skin, and there’s a very good possibility he’s got more than one problem here.

Well. Shit.

“Safehouse,” he gasps. “We need…we need to get to a safehouse, call the cops to pick-up the baddies, we can’t–”

But the Alpha cuts his right the fuck off when those teeth sink in slightly, make the breath woosh right out of his lungs.

“G-Gonna haveta stop me, Baby,” is feral and low, almost inaudible with how far gone Jason Todd is at that moment. “Or…”

“Or what?” he moans, hips automatically jerking up into those rolls against his ass. 

“…or yer gonna run, n’ I’m gonna chase ya.”

The utter promise there, in what Jay was going to do to him, makes a shudder run down Red’s spine, makes him gasp, makes the Omega in his head chant it up (yesyesyes). But, it makes the vigilante still in charge of his necessary brain functions pause long enough to make a plan.

Which is:

Wait until Hood rears back to bite again–

–to fucking throw him off and run.

Chapter Text

How it could have happened:

The low growl rises in pitch just enough–

and the fight is on.

Tim makes some kind of noise, a shout rather than a whine, rising up on his knees the moment Jay’s weight left the bed. He wants to stand, to move, to get between them as fast as he fucking can, the vigilante skimming up his spine, hitting his system with adrenaline to prepare for the fight of his life.

But the Omega in him, sated and satisfied, realizes what’s happening here, and keeps him right there on his knees with rumpled sheets under him, naked and on display as the prize for the winner.

It makes those instincts take notice, to make his already overworked body ready against for the victor because the thought, the sight, the scents of two Alpha males ready to fight over him is doing things to his body he never thought possible (slick is already scenting the air, his thighs are trembling when Dick’s musk gets overpowering from across the room, and Jay is growling so low and dangerous and possessive).

His hands fist in the sheets unconsciously, panting while Dick and Jay circle one another, when the two side-eye him the second he shifts a leg almost off the bed.

“N-No–”

“We have to, Timmy,” is rumbly and low, a whole new tone he’s never, never heard Dick use before. “His Alpha won’t have it any other way.”

“We…we can stop him, just let me–”

“Don’t. Move!” Dick yells a second before he strikes.

And the next twenty minutes are a lesson in how far his patience can possibly stretch while he’s kneeling on the very edge of the bed, gripping the sheet in both fists against his chest, getting unbearablyturned on regardless of the circumstance as his Alphas trade fast and furious blows, pull out elite fighting skills, speed and fucking power against one another.

Jay is brutal when he’s riding the Pit, not pulling any punches, using his height advantage with precision and power, counters when he knows all about Dick’s usual to counter more than usual.

Dick is less flare and more get it done, punctuating the point:

He’s the Pack Alpha, and the Omega is his first.

It’s a split moment when their Pack Alpha ducks under Jay’s defense with a blow that takes the bigger Alpha down on his knees, gives Dick enough time to pull the sedative he’d palmed, stepping around to hold one of Jay’s arms and push the plunger down with the other.

He’s going to get decked for the bruise and headache his second will sport in the morning, but tonight, no one is getting hurt, so the ice pack he’ll need in the morning will be completely worth it.

He gently eases Jay down to the floor, running his fingers through the white stripe of hair falling messily over those dazed eyes, the jade flecks fading before his eyes to be natural blue.

“I’m sorry, honey,” is soft between them, his thumb moving over the mating mark. “I’ll cuddle the hell out of you in the morning, I promise.”

There’s a noise, part-huff, part-sigh, Jay’s eyes sluggishly rolling up to meet Dick’s. His hand flops a little, flails a bit before he gets it right, fighting the drugs just to get a little–

“Sugar,” he rasps out, just enough strength left to pull Dickie down to ‘im and kiss him like they ain’t getting a tomorrow.

“Love you,” Dick whispers achingly against his mouth, catching his hand as he goes limp and the fast-acting drug takes effect and Jay is out.

He pulls off his sweatshirt, tucking it under Jay’s head when his sensitive nose picks it up, and slowly, slowly, turns back toward the bed.

Kneeling there, Tim is biting down on his lower lip, knees going a little weak holding his weight when Dick’s eyes take him in.

The low growl reverberates louder, registering over the blood rushing in his ears. He tries to fight the needy whimper working up through his chest by biting down harder.

It comes out anyway because dammit, damn these two, and how stupidly comfortable they’ve made him giving in to his instincts once-and-a-while–

The noise sets Dick off immediately since he’s already riding the Pack Alpha train, his movement across the room almost a blur.

He’s on Tim fast enough to make the Omega’s head spin, his mouth suddenly full of seeking Alpha tongue, and the sheet pretty much ripped out of his hands so those palms can touch him, trace him, torment him, can push him back, grip his neck, thumb his nipples into taunt peaks, slide between his legs to find him slick and readyand on the verge of fucking desperate, can work him even more to make sure he can take another knot.

Even though he’s already hoarse as fuck from Jay’s abrupt change to Pit-riding Alpha Male, he can still scream and cry while Dick pins him down and fucks inside, holding him hard enough to add to the bruises he’s going to be sporting tomorrow.

“Take it, Omega, take what I give you,” huffed against the nape of his neck while he sobs with overstimulation, not knowing if he can–

Spoiler alert: Dick’s knot makes his knees go out on him. and the palm rubbing soothingly over his bloated belly does not help at all.

The Alpha turns him on his side, holds him tightly while they wait out the knot and come down from the intensity of their instincts, and the aftermath of some mind-blowing sex.

They both stare at the unconscious Alpha still on the floor, watching the easy rise-and-fall of his chest until they finally separate.

His knees wobbly, Dick manages to climb off the bed with a pat to Tim’s sore ass and stagger close enough to heft Jay’s big body up in his arms.

Forcing some strength in his arms, Tim wiggles back and tugs up the sheet with one arm, accepting the younger Alpha with the other.

The three of them on the full bed was a squeeze, but Dick fits around any shape in existence so he literally engulfs them both in his arms. Those blue eyes are lidded while he talks to Tim over Jay’s shoulder, purrs to soothe them both, make Jay huff out in his sleep and slap a hand right on the cheek of Dick’s ass with a sharp snap.

Surprisingly awake after such a rough (but stirring) night, Tim dutifully recounts the fight and what set their Alpha Second off the proverbial rails.

He rolls his eyes when Dick sits up to lean over Jay’s hip and take in the finger-shaped bruises along his rib cage.

(C’mon. I get worse fighting The Riddler. And, you know, that guy.)

And nudges Jay over a little with one shoulder to roll on his back and let Dick give in to his Pack Alpha instincts and clean him up a little with a soft, damp cloth. He’d already waved away the offer of a bath because all of them are done for the night.

**

How it also could have happened (because sometimes I feel the need for angst. Spoiler: remember Dick and Jay were Alpha/Alpha before they found out Tim’s an Omega;)

“Oh…” Tim whimpers faintly when Dick slams into the safehouse, a whirlwind of where’s my Packmates? “Oh no.”

He’s already half gone, hoping Jay would come out of the Pit-haze with this last knotting session, but when their Pack Alpha’s musk hits the air, the arms around him lock down, force him down on the thick knot even harder.

The increased pressure makes a weak noise come out of his chest, and the following bite forcing a final orgasm over him, making the Omega’s eyes roll up in the back of his head, hands tighten on Jay’s restraining arms while he shakes apart.

He’s past the point of being able to scream again, just tangled up in the damn sheet and stuck on a knot that is literally pushing at the back of his throat.

“Pl-Please, Jay,” is a whimper because his thighs are shaking and fighting seems like a thing his knees probably won’t be able to handle right about now.

(He knows he’s that far gone after round…whatever because the hilarious image of Jay trying to fight their Pack Alpha with Tim literally stuck on his dick flashes through his brain pan while the press of the knot against his spot that makes his vision cloud over again.)

He gets a low, dangerous growl in reply, and an A for effort, but Dick is looking from him to Jay, eyes narrowing, the expression calculating, Nightwing making a plan.

“Nnngn! W-wait, he-he’s not–not hurting me, Dick, I promise,” he tries to stammer out, patting and stroking Jay’s tight forearms instead of gripping. “We just…need a little bit to work him down–”

“How many times has he knotted you, Timmy?” Because Dick’s eyes are sliding down his bare body again, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“I…nngh, I’m not sure. Four, maybe?” But his chest stutters when Jay flexes his hips again, still pumping deep inside.

“Okay, okay, he’s got you nice and fucked out,” Dick’s voice goes from growly to calm just that fast.  “I’m going to help talk him down before he hurts you, okay?”

“I don’t know–” is helplessly high-pitched because Jason leans in to latch on to his scent gland and suck. “W-we’ve never brought him out of it together before. I don’t know if I can-can get him calm while you’re here.”

But Dick’s eyes never lose that look, one that could mean fight or fuck. He was never sure which until the last possible second.

“Oh, I think we can do it, Pretty Bird,” and Dick’s voice gentles, his chest starting to rumble in a soft purr, “I think Jay just needs to remember who he belongs to. Nothing sudden, just a little reminder.”

And because Dick Grayson has seen the Pit’s influence before, because it’s Jay, because he’s a vigilante that has to make a plan, a vigilante that’s fought Jason Todd’s own demons more than once–

He knows how he needs to play it, and smiles softly before slowly tilting his head to the side, showing the long line of his throat, the subtle mating mark at the base.

“Jay, it’s me, honey. Just me.” He keeps it soft and low, purring lightly while his scent gets just a little stronger, his musk open and welcoming.

The Alpha stares at him over Tim’s shoulder, eyes narrowing, the growl ending in a soft huff.

“I know it’s hard to remember when you’re like this. It’s just all the Alpha in you trying to fight, to survive, to keep what’s yours.” Dick talks it out gently, turning slightly so he can stare at his mate’s eyes over their Omega’s shoulder. “But it’s okay, honey. I’m yours too, aren’t I?” And deliberately, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip and leans forward on his hands. “Me and Timmy…we’re both yours, aren’t we?”

Those eye with too much jade blink at him, some of the tension from his shoulders easing down, coming to the realization he’s not going to have to fight for the Omega in his arms. He turns out of Tim’s neck, chin tilting up to scent the air again, to lock onto Dick’s musk.

“That’s it, Little Wing. Scent me, really scent me. If it takes you some time to remember me, us, then it’s okay. I’m not leaving you. Jason, I’m. Not. Leaving. You.” And it’s a gamble when he slowly lifts one hand, palm up, hoping Jay will reach for him, will remember how much he used to cling to Dick in the early days of their relationship, how he needed to obsessively check-in with Nightwing to make sure he was still up and moving.

(“Can’t lose ya now, Dickie. Not after I finally got cha ya where I want ya.”

“Honestly Jay, it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than Gotham’s worst to keep me away. You know that, right?”)

And Tim feels it. Where his back is pressed up against Jay’s chest tightly, just the smallest hitch in the panting breath, how the hold loses some intensity. There’s a soft noise over his shoulder, low and oddly fragile when Jay sees that hand outstretched and open. It’s only natural Tim tries to help, turns his head as much as he can to look at the Alpha’s expression, to see the struggle there, the fight against the Pit’s influence and his own Alpha nature. He nuzzles against the side of Jay’s face, raises a shaky hand to pat the arm around his chest.

“D-Dickie….” is more growl than actual words, “A-Alpha.”

“It’s me, honey,” and Dick’s voice is so gentle, so full of affection, his hand still out while he takes cautious steps forward. “I want to hold you, want to touch my beautiful mate. God, Jay, you smell so good, just like home, just like our bed in the morning.”

The shudder against Tim’s back is more obvious this time, something that releases more tension in Jay’s shoulders and arms. He tries to nuzzle against Jay’s jugular, patting the restraining arm again until the hold loosens up (and no, he’s not wondering how Dick and Jay’s bed smells in the morning because it’s not really his place is it? This, the three of them, is just about some A’s helping out an O, right? It’s the Pit and Jay’s instincts that come after him, the Omega. That’s all it can be, all they can be, and really…it’s fine).

The next noise is closer to a whine, an Alpha in pain, in shock, in need, calling out to his Pack, and Tim can feel the fine tremble starting against him, signs Jay is coming out of the haze. He tries to shift, biting down on his lower lip at the feel the knot stretching him, still locked in place. And he hopes he can get off Jay’s lap so Dick can take over since this seems to be working more than just, you know, being a warm hole to knot.

But he made a mistake shifting because those arms tighten back down, the Alpha’s gaze snapping to his face, lip curling off his teeth.

“Whoa. Honey, Jaybird,” Dick holds out both hands, placating, “you’ve knotted him…a lot. He’s probably uncomfortable, maybe sore. We need to take care of him, right?”

Tim tries to keep himself from flinching at how terrible that sounds (it’s just because he’s an Omega, isn’t it?), but the twinge draws Jay’s attention back to him, and the Alpha eases up his grip to slide both hands around him to rub his heavy belly.

“I know, honey,” Dick smiles gently, “you just want to be a good Alpha. It’s okay, you are.” He’s finally close enough to lay a hand on Jason’s forearm, to kneel by the bed and smile up at the other Alpha endearingly. “You’ve come so far, and we’ve worked so hard. You know you’re more than this. Isn’t it time to come back?”

When Jay doesn’t jerk away from the hold, doesn’t attack immediately, Dick sighs in relief and runs his fingers down that forearm, pausing on familiar scars. “C’mon, honey. I’m waiting for you.”

Abruptly, Jason Todd makes a harsh noise, hands falling away from Tim’s belly. He moves to grip Dick’s hand tight, his shoulders shuddering.

Luckily, Tim can absolutely miss all the awkward coming after this little sitch because the knot shrinks down enough for him to pull himself off with a wet noise, and scramble off the bed to snatch his boxers and suit up from the floor, hold them in front of his body.

Dick takes his place fast, already up on his knees, wrapping both arms around Jay and holding the Alpha hard against his chest, purring against the top of his head, soothing the shakes away.

“It’s okay, Little Wing, it’s okay,” murmured gently in the din while Tim makes his trembling knees work just long enough to get him to the bathroom and lightly close the door. He pants softly, sinking down to sit on the floor, clutching his clothes to his chest (their marks on one another are fucking beautiful, but it’s so stupid to want what he can’t have).

He gives himself a minute or so, shutting down his thoughts, trying to block out his inner Omega wailing because he left them, because while he knows he isn’t their Omega, the instincts in him (maybe more than just instincts) crave to be.

Biting down on his lower lip, one hand strays to his overly full belly, a slight curve under his palm, and it’s a crazy thing how horrified he’d been when the idea Ra’s might force him to have an heir, but if the young had been Dick’s or Jay’s–

Tim snatches his hand back, erasing the thought immediately. He’s on birth control, he’s a vigilante, he’s the leader of the Titans, and he’s only been with the Alphas through potentially dangerous Heats. Once his body evens out, everything…everything will go back to the way it was.

The achingly empty spot in his chest throbs for a terrible moment, the grief of his inner Omega, before he can tamp it down, push it to the back of his thoughts, and try to get himself together.

“Timmy?” The knock on the door is who knows how much later, but he’s only managed to get his boxers on, standing wobbly to try getting back into his body suit.

“How is he?” Is the first thing out of his mouth.

“It’s okay, he’s back now. Tim, are you–?”

“You should take him home, Dick. He needs some time.”

“I’m planning on it. I hit up B for a ride. Car is already on its’ way. We need to get you dressed and ready to go, too.”

“I’m fine. I can get to the Perch from here.”

“Oh, no. I’m not leaving you, Tim.” The door knob twists, the door trying to open up against his back. Well, body block FTW.

“Let me in.”

“I’m fine, Dick. You need to worry about him right now.”

“I can worry about anyone I want, Timmy. I can have my cake and eat it too. We’re all going back to my place to cuddle. Like, now, so let me in so I can help you get into your suit.”

“You’re a good Alpha, Dick, but I don’t have any more blockers, and we can’t risk my scent setting him off again. It’s safer for everyone–”

“Tim, if you don’t want to be around Jay, I understand. He literally just–”

“It’s not that! He didn’t hurt me!”

“He still–”

“No! I mean, that’s not why–”

“Then let me in, Baby.” The door presses up against his back again, and Tim quickly zips up his body suit, feeling better to have this convo now that he’s partially dressed. When he straightens up, Dick takes immediate advantage and slides through the door with Tim’s boots and cape. He drops them carelessly, those blue eyes taking him in from head to foot.

“Seriously, Dick–” with a little crossing his arms over his chest, starting out no-nonsense, I-am-an-island, we’ve all taken worse beatings than that, and ending with the logical he needs you right now, and you need to make sure he’s okay– listen to your inner Pack Alpha.

The immediate octopus hold and purring Alpha suddenly up in his business stops those placations from pouring out (deflection denied!), Dick pretty much scooping him up to nuzzle at his face–

(and make sure he can’t escape out the window)

–to start talking in that same low, surpy voice that just gets to the core of him. “You did so well, Baby, taking care of Jay. You were amazing.”

And one of Dick’s big hands runs soothingly down his spine, making his tense muscles ease.

“You could have run, or you could have tranqued him, but instead you helped work him down while he was awake, when his Alpha took over. You gave him the Omega he needed. You took care of our Pack Mate when he was literally insane.”

And his feet touch the ground so Dick can slide a hand up in his hair and scratch lightly at his scalp, “you deserve a nice bath and some dinner before we put you to bed for the day. You’ve earned it, Baby.”

Well… that does sound kind of nice.

Since he knows he’s not going to win this little sitch, especially when Jason shows up, bracing his hand against the doorframe, looking shaky as fuck, his eyes more blue than green, and his hands are fucking desperate with apologies, Tim lets the two of them muscle him back into the safehouse to gather his harness and utility belt. He fishes out a domino since Jay can’t stand to be in the helmet and tolerates the hand fisted in his cape while they climb down the side of the building to the waiting car in the alley.

He doesn’t fight Jay getting in the back seat with him while Dick drives, and agreeably sits on the Alpha’s lap during the ride, pointedly not focusing on how good the big, gloved hand feels palming his belly. He gets a few minutes to sink into the grey between sleep and awake, losing the soft conversation between Dick and Jay as the car glides through Gotham.

The door opening rouses his Robin instincts before the Omega, making him snap-to, avoiding the instinctual lunge by a hair when Jay latches on to his wrist and pulls him back.

The familiar Alpha scent is what makes him shake it off and climb out of the nice Lexus like a good vigilante.

He and Jay take the side fire escape because they’re still in suits as Dick goes inside to unlock the windows the easy way.

Instead of starting the climb, the Hood fires his gauntlet grapple and sweeps an arm around Red Robin’s waist and they fly into the night with his cape flaring out behind them.

The bath is already running and Dick maneuvers right around his excuses, stripping him down before he realizes he’s naked again. He only manages to divert Dick away from getting in the bath with him by reminding how much they don’t want Jay to be alone right now while shoving the older Alpha out the door.

It’s not long after that he’s in a borrow t-shirt, The Cure, that almost hangs down to his knees and sweatpants bunching up at the ankles (and no, his inner Omega isn’t finally fucking satisfied being literally covered in the scent of both Alphas, that’s just asking for trouble…fuck), his legs on Jay’s lap while the Alpha feeds him bites of a sandwich between sips of Gatorade.  

Dr. Strange is on low when he starts to nod off again, and wakes up in the morning sandwiched between the two Alphas in their bed.

It’s the answer he did and didn’t want, on how Dick and Jay’s bed smells, feels, in the morning, but it is a terrifying realization–

–how much like home it seems to be.

Chapter Text

However, I fucking love this. lovelovelovelove. I love Jason being the ridiculously overprotective everything. Just think about future Omega Tim sitting both his mates down and telling them very gently that welp, he’s pregnant. 

Cue Jason Todd freaking the fuck out.

“Oh my God! We gotta get a bag packed fer the hospital. Now Dickie. Gotta get them stupid parenting books, gotta get milk, I mean, fuck, kids like milk n’ shit, right?! Dammit, I just said fuck. Fuck I just said dammit!”

And just hyperventilating all over the place.

“Jay? Babe you have to calm down. The baby isn’t coming for nine months okay? We don’t need milk right this second.”

And it’s crazy how the shadows follow CEO Tim Drake wherever he possibly goes, there’s a vigilante following by rooftop or Ducati or impressively large bat-shaped vehicles.

Bruce is all kind of dad making sure Tim is sleeping and eating appropriately for once in his life (he’s got Alfred on his side, so the guilt is already on his side). Dick is super, super cuddly with him, cooing at their Omega and at his belly. Dick is the one teary-eyed at their first ultrasound and their baby is dubbed Peanut (which was kiddo’s name for my first, tbh). Dick is the one that rubs his back and ankles, that holds him in the shower and washes his feet when he can’t see them anymore.

Jay is the one frantically reading everything he can get his hands on, spends hours upon hours researching. He has a baby carrier with the best Kevlar weave out there. When Tim even thinks of trying to lift something, he’s right there, ninja-ing whatever it is out of Timmy’s hand. He’s the one that insists on dry runs for when it’s time, and is shameless in making everyone, everyone participate. Supes is gonna be on call if Timmy ain’t at the Manor or Perch. Di’s gonna ride in his six in case any fuck-head baddies get any ideas. 

The Titans are so on that shit. They have protocols and are not afraid to use them, Red. Seriously. The second he let them know he couldn’t be active anymore, but would run comms and still be their intel guy, help lead the team, they all started Nesting like fuck. The Commons Rooms is a mess of t-shirts, scarves, socks, bits and pieces of uniforms woven everywhere. They put their scents on him just as much as the Bats do, hold him in their laps and talk to his belly, make sure he’s taking care of himself. One of them is personally with him on trips back to Gotham when he starts showing.

It’s the whole family in on the nursery in the Manor. Cass is painting and Steph stenciling. Dami handpaints mythical characters and animals so very carefully. Alfred of course approves the furniture and Master Bruce easily puts everything together. O has picked out the crib blankets and sundries, smartly buying a diaper pail with scented bags.

The boys have handled the one at the Perch and Dick’s apartment, so this is an adorable surprise. 

And when it’s time. When it’s time, wouldn’t you know some very sneaky, stealthy ninjas are the ones that reach him first.

…this isn’t part of the plan.

Chapter Text

“I can’t fucking believe this shit,” and Jay is doing his Red Hood Murder Walk across their sunny kitchen. It would be more intimidating if he was suited up and without the ‘Kiss the Zombie’ apron neatly tied around him.

Tim throws up his hands because really, not winning the argument over here, “You realize I literally stalked all of you and made my damn self Robin.”

“Yeah? And, ya gonna tell me ya gonna put Jellybean through the same kinda rough shit we all went through? Jus’ like that, Timmy? Gonna put our baby up against a murderous fuck like the Joker or some shit?”

“This is literally going to be the first grandchild in a family full of vigilantes, Jay, how are you going to stop a baby with the three of us as parents?!”

“He has a point, Tim,” is Dick’s soft omission. “I think of our baby up against a criminal like Blockbuster or Slade or even Ra’s, and I want to die a little inside.”

Sucking in a breath, Tim folds his arms across his chest, taking a small step back out of some crazy instinct, the barely noticeable round curve hidden under his nerd shirt and sweats, “we live the life. We’ve made enemies, we’ve had our identities exposed, and even if we give it up when this baby is born, people are still going to come after us. We’ll never be completely safe. Are you telling me you won’t make sure the baby is trained well enough to fight back if any one of the baddies come knocking at our door?”

That gives them both pause, Dick’s mouth opening with no sound coming out and Jay’s brows drawing down to make his eyes narrow.

“Even if we stay Bats, there’s no guarantee we’ll always be there or on time. And if we do train our kid, then how the hell are we going to explain where we learned it all? The secrets are going to come out eventually, and that’s why I’m all for letting our child make the choice!”

Dick sighs out loud and crosses the kitchen to wind both arms around Tim from behind, “hey, hey. Calm down, Baby, okay?” A warm palm slides under his shirt, petting his little bump, and damn it, it’s really soothing. “We have plenty of time to talk about it and come up with a plan.”

Jason joins them, pressing a kiss to the top of their Omega’s head and nuzzling at the base of his throat. His instincts are all about calming the Omega, if anything to keep from putting undue stress on him and the baby.

“When th’ time comes, we’re gonna make the right call, Sweets,” is a little rumbly and Jay lifts a hand to go under Tim’s shirt to mirror Dick’s palm spread over the bump. “Said it yerself. Kid’s gonna have us, so’s I’d like ta see Ra’s come up in this house without losing his fucking spleen.”

And even if they all laugh to break the tension, even if Tim lets them run their hands over his belly and nuzzle against their Marks at his throat, even if their hands wander farther and eventually they’re in a tangled pile making their way toward the big bedroom, he’s still going to be thinking about it later that night while Dick and Jay are sleeping around him, dead to the world for a few hours of blissful unconsciousness.

He’s going to be wondering how badly Ra’s might try for him or their baby again, or if the immortal would try to snatch him after this pregnancy to make another try for breeding. He’s going to have horrible moments of fear while his Alphas sleep on, rubbing his belly absently in the night. 

It’s why he’d argued so vehemently, why he knew they had to protect this baby at all costs. If it would eventually be an Omega, like him, then Ra’s would have–

the perfect mate.

Chapter Text

You know, I haven’t really written about the AOB, pregnant Tim in detail because I have way too many ideas how it might go. I’ve answered a few asks generally about Jason being all panicky like a cute daddy-to-be and Dick smothering him in cuddles and gently support. So, ah, maybe just a few more details about it, yeah?

*Even though it wasn’t necessarily planned, the last round of Tim’s Heat is the one in which his birth control and suppressants might have conflicted or something, so he starts smelling so much like both Dick and Jay that his blockers can’t really hide it. That’s when the detective gets it.

*His first young will probably be a boy and a girl. Dick’s young is their little girl and Jay’s young is their boy. Miri (which is Romani and in remembrance to Dick’s mom, Mary) is beautiful with dainty feature and dark, dark hair. Her eyes are dark blue like Dick’s and she’s always cooing. The second she wrapped a tiny hand around Dami’s fingers, the young Robin was lost. This precious one will always be protected.

Ian is a subtle salute the Irish in Jay’s side. He’s all big shoulders and loud laughter when Jay blows raspberries on his belly or Tim shakes his too long hair in the baby’s face. He’s squeals and kicking little legs when Dick hefts him up in the air, cooing at his son with stars in his eyes.

Like everyone ever becomes more maternal the second Tim admits to family and friends that he’s going to have to step out of the boots and hang up his utility belt for the next nine months, but the minute those precious babes are in the world, Tim, Jay, and Dick are all weepy and nuzzly and so fucking proud and honored and in love. But, B starts making twice as many plans, putting better security in place for the small family, answering texts from Clark, Hal, and Wally while he holds his grandchildren for the first time. 

As in how the children are raised, I’m sure the everyone agrees to settle in Gotham because, honestly, it is home. They might be big missions only for a while, making sure at least two parents are home with the children for the first year or five. 

Wayne Manor is actually home base for the majority of their childhoods, exploring niches and corners, going up to the attic with Mr. Alfred when their fathers are… busy.

For years, the Wayne children (because Tim settled that argument before it ever happened. They all share the last name Wayne, and Bruce’s constant hedging was more flattering that Tim couldn’t help but to agree) always knew Uncle Clark and Aunt Diana were…more than people at Daycare and, later, school. They eventually come to realize how dangerous Gotham is (in school PSAs about what to do when they hear gunshots, an assembly about what to do if the Joker attacks, if a bomb is sited, if a city-wide alarm is going off, all of it gives them a picture), and the understanding that their family has something to do with it.

Their carrier is someone that lies with a bit of the truth, and he’s good. Pops likes to dance around the issue, just sayin’ the damn city is lucky capes are there to take care of the crazy. Daddy just tells them to put their faith in the police, the people on the right side of the law.

It’s not until they’re thirteen or so that the oldest kids find out the secret behind the Grandfather clock and go exploring, see Grandpa in the Batsuit, Dad, Pops, and Daddy gathered around while they went through the night.

Hm. Just a thought.

Chapter Text

Being bitten, submitting, was overwhelming and intense for the rest of his Heat.

He felt so fucking needy after it, falling into Jason Todd like a blanket, fitting every curve. Burying his nose right against the scent, he found more than the usual calm when he inhaled in the right spot to get that heavier, darker musk straight to the brain pan. The burn in his veins softened, lessened and the world became fuzzier, lighter somehow.

So it’s really no surprise he came out of Heat a day before the usual, a good sign considering he’d been having consistent Heats of five to seven days when most Omegas hit three, four at the most. It meant having Alphas was finally having a positive effect on his body’s balance and he was having a more normal cycle.

But before he could bring it up to Dick, before he could ask Dick to take his submission, he found himself fed and packed up to go back to Titan’s Tower when an emergency wave hit his comm, and it was time to throw down against the usual array of bad guys.

And even though he kept moving, kept fighting, kept training, kept scanning, kept being the leader he had to be, kept his data in line and his contingencies on point–

He couldn’t help but think about–

(How good Dick’s teeth would feel buried in the back of his neck while he fucked Tim long and hard until his knot finally sank inside. How tight Jay would hold him, would talk low and dirty in his ear while he was fucked to orgasm on his Pack Alpha’s cock...)

–and be pissed there hadn’t been enough time for Dick to do it.

So he does what he always does with the other forty or so percent of his brain not in the immediate oh shit fighting bad guys sitch.

He makes a plan.

He has spreadsheets hidden on his ghost drive, mapping out correlations in Jay and Dick’s preferences, tracing things back to the first time he’d been found out that night in Gotham, worried as fuck when his Heat scent pretty much signalled the gig was up.

Since then, he’s been subtly adding things in the spreadsheet that make his Alphas take notice. (Jealousy. Don’t let them find toys….note: let them find toys.)

Certain things that made their scents get heavier, muskier, made their hands clench around him; things that made them start to purr.

(Satin panties and lace baby dolls made for Omegas. See Ivy’s last round of toxins. Note: enticing a feral Pack Alpha is bad for the back, but good for everything else. Next time, avoid the floor.)

(Secondary note: play into Jay’s more voyeuristic kinks. This has possibilities.)

After he’d compiled all the data and started the analysis, he’s learned two things: the main correlation to tie everything together is his Heat. All the events leading up to the bite were done during his pre-Heat or when he’d already started smelling more fertile.

The other: he needed both Alphas to make it work.

All he needs to do is wait for his next cycle and Tim’s 81% sure he can get the Pack Alpha to take him up on the offer.

(Plan “Take me, fuck me, bite me” is a go.)

It pretty much all comes together when he gets a nice phone call late one night while he’s on monitoring duty at Titan’s Tower, playing Galaga with a kick ass score, and his inner Omega starts up with the purring when it’s Nightwing asking how his week has gone and then ranting about his own cases like they used to do back when they were in the capes together.

(Oddly enough, it’s becoming less ‘like when we used to do’ and more ‘how we do it now.’)

He laughs over the line when the witty banter hits a good place and N’s tone drops a little lower, a touch of Alpha creeping in.

“When are you coming home, by the way? I’m starting to go into Timmy withdrawal. I feel the need to cuddle intensely coming on. Ooh! Here comes the shakes.”

It’s so utterly lame and so Dick that he can’t help but pause the game because geeze. The satisfied purr over the line hits him low in the abdomen, a warm pressure starting up that has nothing to do with his impending Heat cycle, not an anticipation from his instincts begging to be serviced, not because his body craves the touch of an Alpha, not for anything other than it’s Dick Grayson.

(“I want to...please, hold me while he fucks me, when he-when he bites– the image alone is enough to make him shift in his seat, feel his body warming up with the phantom feel of hands on his hips and teeth in his neck while they take his Submission as something beautiful…)

“Probably soon,” he hurries to cover up the very unnecessary observations on how fucked he really is, “Kon is going to relieve me in about an hour, but I probably should stay and run a few more diagnostics–”

“I’ll make you coffee and get donuts from that place you like,” Nightwing counters, “we can watch terrible movies and make fun of the way Dami says asparagus.”

Really. This is almost too easy. If he could get Jay there, could get them both in one place for long enough, it might start his Heat a week early–

“Oh? Are we going to hold Vigilante Anonymous at your place tonight, Marsha? You know I make a killer punch, right?”

“I’ve heard it’s the best, Cindy. Maybe we’ll do those little cucumber sandwiches.”

It’s stupid how he’s grinning like an asshole, but doesn’t it feel nice. “All right, all right. As soon as Kon relieves me, I’ll come down to Gotham. Deal?”

“Deal. I want you to come straight to me, Timmy, don’t get sidetracked at the Perch or the Cave.”  There’s something in Dick’s tone that positively oozes sex, gets low and firm, an edge of the Alpha below the surface.

And because maybe, maybe, he has to push just a little, has to test things, has to see where the boundaries are, maybe because he remembers a time when there was no safety net anymore and tamping down on those instincts, shoving his own wants and needs was the only thing he could do to keep his fucking sanity, is still there in the back of his mind, a reminder of what he has to lose.

Because no matter how many times he might think this means something more than just Pack Dynamics and terribly thought-out biology–

–those years of fending for himself reminds him all of this effort could be just some A’s taking care of an O.

So, he hedges a little, free hand clenching and unclenching in the glove, “Hey, c’mon! I mean, I might have to drop off some stuff since my Perch isn’t that far in the city–”

Nightwing doesn’t even let him finish his ramble. “Not this time. I want you here, Omega.”

He bites down on his lower lip when the words roll down his spine, N saying Omega like that, in that tone, hits way too many places.

And because it’s rote by this juncture, his mouth starts running away with him, pushing it just a little further. “You don’t even need to worry, Big Wing. I’m not even supposed to go into Heat for another week or so, but really, I’m good to keep taking suppressants through it this time anyway.”

(Which is totally false. He stopped taking them three days ago.)

“Me asking this has nothing to do with your cycle,” is slightly admonishing, and fuck he has to shift in his seat again, definately feeling the warmth in his belly, the want starting up at that tone. “The minute Superboy relieves you, get in the plane and come to Gotham. I’m waiting for you.”

“Alpha–” is just a little breathless, his cheeks getting pink under the domino.

“Mmhm. Going to be good for me, aren’t you?”

He closes his eyes, but Dick’s voice still curls around him, warm and inviting and dammit, makes it almost impossible to say anything other than, “Yes, Alpha.”

“Good. See you soon, Timmy.”

“‘Kay,” is a little slurry on his end, his thighs starting to rub together when he fumbles to click off the comm.

He’s still riding the soft, fuzzy instincts when the external security cameras catch Kon circling around the top of the Tower, waving on his way inside.

(Go time.)

**

Focusing on flying the Batwing is what keeps him sane during the ride down. He doesn’t put the auto-pilot on because it’s more helpful to keep his mind working, to make sure he’s got contingencies in place

(like the new peek-a-boo chemise and panty set in the bottom of his bag…)

and not focus on shit like he could be totally misreading all of this and could potentially be pushing for something the Alphas haven’t signed up for.

Sure, they’ve taken care of him during his Heats, pretty much seek him out if he isn’t in Gotham a few days before he was due to start.

Sure, they’ve still been crime fighting besties, stomping the shit out of general thugs and gang members. Sleuthing and sharing information on cases, working in tandem like they’re all partners now.

But Dick and Jay have only been with him during his Heat or their Ruts (insane other circumstances like the Pit’s influence or chemical inhibitors notwithstanding).  Neither of them had brought it up, not in the eight months since the pregnancy scare, and were always careful to make sure he had a booster of birth control before everything started up.

He’d come to a point where he was good with being their Omega during his Heat, loved the possessiveness in every motion, in words like mine and ours ground out against him while they took him. He’d come to the point where the question as to how far it could go hovered in his brain pan the last time he’d come out of Heat with the two Alphas wrapped around him after Jay’s teeth had been buried in his neck. And that bite, as good as it was, changed something for him. Something crucial. Maybe because it’s evidence for him as an Omega, of Alphas that could maybe, might be serious about wanting him, that this, them, could be more.

Which is why he let Jay bite him in the first place, trying to prove something to them. But if Dick changed his mind, decided not to take him up on it–

(He’s going to either get bitten tonight, or start having Heats on his own. His heart can’t take it, can’t go further down this rabbit hole.)

–then it’s Dick and Jay doing what they needed to do as Alphas, and that’s it.

Either way, he’s going to find out once and for all, where they really stand.

Oddly enough, the thought leaves his gut feeling tight and empty all the way to Gotham.

**

His usual place to set down is on the outskirts, one of the old WE factories still under the company’s holdings, what he doesn’t expect to see is the Batmobile parked inside, apparently waiting on him.

The second the plane’s ramp retracts, the Batmobile opens up in a smooth maneuver.

It makes the plan go a little sideways, the possibility of a case or major crime going down could have interrupted the whole evening he’s planned out. Dammit.

At least he’s got time to take in the view on the way back to the Cave, resigns himself to jumping in the empty driver’s seat and sit back to surf his phone for local news to find out what bat-tastrophe the family is probably knee-deep in this time.

It’s much too soon when the big car slides to a stop, too soon to be back at the Cave, and he hasn’t found anything really news-worthy that would warrant B’s favorite toy as his taxi for the night.

(But really, it’s just another sign both feet are back in Gotham, isn’t it?)

When he glances up, rubs at his bleary eyes, it’s a jolt when he realizes he’s right outside–

Dick’s apartment.

Anticipation kicks up a notch just as the top slides silents open, gives him a lung-full of Gotham’s waning night air. A breath to steady himself, a reminder of the play he’s going with tonight, the possible rejection he could be facing.

But it isn’t enough to change his mind. Nope. He’s only got so much space in his heart, and if he needs to start pulling back, start putting those old needs and wants back in the box he’d had them stored in before his secret was out and Dick wanted to play Good Alpha. He’d have to go back to being the little brother, shoving all his feelings away so they could work together, so he could keep at least something.

After tonight, he’d know if he could only have them during his Heat, if he’d have to shove himself back in that little box just to keep them in his life, or if they could possibly be something more.

(Please don’t let it all go wrong.)

Any last-ditch chance to change the plan, to give in to the sudden burst of anxious energy, is taken out of his hands when the big car slides closed and pulls away, going back to the Manor for the night, leaving him stranded with his brain overworking as usual.

The errant urge to run is right there with how easily he could climb the old wrought iron steps or disappear deep in the alley, take off to the Perch and go into lock-down.  

But, his inner Omega, his instincts, those pesky things Jay and Dick have been slowly, surely pulling out of him, calling forth more than he’s ever let happen since he presented in Titan’s Tower, hiding away from everyone, that he’s pushed so far down, he forgot how to call out to his Pack.

(And...and he can now. The noise that comes out of him from down deep is enough to make all of them, all of them, Cass and Steph, B and Alfred, Dick and Jay, even Dami stop and come to him when he needs Pack. A year ago, he’d never thought it could happen, never thought it was something he could have…)

Those instincts are the ones that keep him forward and focused, that gives him the confidence to hope that he’s not reading everything wrong –

(this time)

–and when he finally tells Dick why he’s in Gotham tonight, when Jay gets his message and maybe swings by after patrol…

His belly tightens just thinking of it, and Tim has to bite down on his lower lip to calm it down just a little. He takes a whiff of himself, cups a hand by his jugular, before he climbs those stairs, hoping he doesn’t smell how he feels. He wants to feel out the sitch, make sure Dick doesn’t need him for a case or something before he comes at the Pack Alpha’s face with some serious pheromones.  

Mostly together, he raises his hand to knock, but the door is already opening, and Dick’s blue, blue eyes are so clear and soft that Tim’s mouth goes immediately dry.

The shameless grin splitting the older vigilante’s face is just this side of greedy, and Dick takes a long moment to let his eyes slide from Tim’s dark eyes to the tips of his sneakers.

“Not what I was hoping for. Something closer to skin-tight or even naked would have been better.”

“Not when I’m getting a ride in B’s car,” he snarks back, pushing the hood over his hair. He thinks briefly about the crazy little get-up in his backpack, has to bite down on his lip again, his cheeks getting warm.

It’s definitely not his imagination when Dick’s tone drops, deepens, “I’m a jealous Alpha, you know. B better not get even a peek.”

“Dick,” is all kinds of warning.

“Don’t get mad,” and the Alpha reaches out, is his usual kind of grabby, pulling Tim in the apartment by the forearms, unabashedly leaning in to rub their noses together with a soft purr. “I thought you’d probably disengage auto-pilot and go for a ride. I’m glad you came to me first.”

“I…” and the hint of musk, the interest, the comfort, the soothing seduction makes the words trail off because oh, Alpha smells so good.

“Mmhm,” and Dick steps barefoot over the threshold, his sweats look well-worn and soft, would probably feel nice on the inside of his thighs...

Dammit.

His cheeks aren’t pink or his eyes half-mast when Dick brings their foreheads together, noses nuzzling. Honest.

“I like taking care of you, so I sent the car to make sure you wouldn’t get waylaid... You always try to wrap-up whatever case you’re working before your Heat starts.’”

And yeah. That does sound like him, doesn’t it?

“I made linguini and coffee, so come in and stay for a while.” The underlying let’s talk is there, and Tim’s eyes flutter open (not sure when he closed them), a little dazed from the scent and closeness, feeling fuzzy around the edges.

“That...sounds pretty awesome actually.” His stomach grumbles just at the suggestion, and he gins shamelessly when his Pack Alpha scowls at the sound.

“What am I going to do with you?” Is a sigh while Dick gives him a last nuzzle...and then drops his head a little more and presses his warm mouth at the base of Tim’s throat, right over his scent gland.

It doesn’t help his predicament in the slightest. His head automatically tilts to allow for better access (to offer himself up). And it’s just an enforcement of Pack, getting the scent on him since he’s been at the Tower for a few weeks. It’s just a reminder he still has a place.

He’d tried to deny it. To explain it away. To ignore it. To sabotage it.

And here he is, a hand on the back of Dick’s neck, feeling the Alpha purr while he scent marks, just the edges of teeth this time, not like the dual marks from last time. The ones he found himself touching constantly whether he was in the suit or not.

“Welcome home, Timmy,” is soft against his ear, press of Dick’s mouth at the soft spot below, earning a delicate shudder up the Omega’s spine.

He wants to whine about it, wants his damn pants to be stop being so uncomfortable right now, get it under control before Dick starts smelling like slick.

“Thanks, Alpha,” because trust his mouth and amazing ability to deflect, saving his ass every damn time, “and I think I was promised not only dinner but coffee. I demand both. In reverse order.”

The belly laugh against the top of his head breaks the tension, gives him a minute to let the night air cool him down, remind him–

–he’s got a plan.

Smirking, Tim lets Dick wrap a long arm around his back and lead him inside.

**

He throws off his hoodie and kicks his shoes in a corner, listens to the killer week in Gotham and New York when Dick and Wally got into some bad business with a few of Rupert Thorne’s associates. How Wally got involved was a hilarious story that started off with a plate of nachos and ends with a major crime family going down.

Classic vigilante shenanigans, really.

He’s laughing like a nerd while the sauce warms and smells like heaven. But also, since popular opinion is utterly wrong, Jason, he stands at the counter and chops some sundries for a salad and butters garlic bread to go in the oven. 

It’s just them over dinner, talking the usual smack and going over the details, promising to see movies and drooling over buttery popcorn, giving Dami his kudos for still trying to be a better Robin and run his team (because when Dami asked him, when Baby Bat, bigger, stronger, now, growing further and further into the R on his chest, asking formally to start Young Justice– fuck, he’d had tears in his eyes).

It’s just them washing the dishes together and laughing, spraying each other with the kitchen sprayer and smearing bubbles all over the damn place.

(He almost stutters when Dick grabbed him around the chest and pulled their bodies together, his ass right in the perfect spot to work against–no, no, no bad thoughts.)

He wrinkles his nose in the end, scowling up at Dick’s unrepentant grin, and sighs.

“God, you’re honestly like five,” but the complaint is just not effective at all.

Dick still throws him over one shoulder and manhandles him down on the couch with the last round of fucking awful reality tv shows still on low.

When Tim expects Netflix or some Sci-Fi masterpiece, when he settles his ass back into one of the familiar niches that bypasses that one spring that always sinks into your ass cheek, when he’s still grinning and comfortable, when he’s thinking they might get a few episodes in before he just excuses himself to the bathroom to put IT on, and then while they are hopefully voraciously eating each other’s faces, Jay will come in from patrol, and BAM.

He’s just waiting for the right time to execute the plan.

When he’s ready for the television to change from music to Nailed It, Hyperdrive, or something equally as lame (reads as: addicting), ready to wait it out–

Dick moves.

And it’s the pressure of a wider chest against his, of those thighs straddling his with the right kind of pressure, of those blue eyes so so close while the Alpha lurks beneath. It all makes his mouth starts to water and something low in his abdomen get tingly and warm. Dick’s musk drifts across his senses, and fuck he’s already been close to it all night. He’s not superhuman for fuck’s sake.

This? This is worse than the Riddler’s crummy traps. Seriously.

“Now, it’s time to talk, Tim.”

His brain is fuzzy, but it only takes a second for him to get it. Because of course Dick’s been the epitome of a good Alpha, feeding him, making him comfortable, making him feel like part of the Pack, so the obvious trap is really just well-fucking-played.

Pinning him to the couch, moving against him, scenting along his throat, and he’s subtle about it when he clamps his free hand around the back of Tim’s neck, holding tight.

Just like he wants, Tim’s whole body goes slack, slumps a little against the couch while his eyes glaze over, the Omega that’s already submitted to him once giving in without Tim’s usual penchant to fight.

Dick watches, intent and entranced, taking in the third Robin’s willing submission.

He’s so perfect, just like this.

“Are you listening to me, Baby?” He thumbs the curve of Tim’s jaw, keeping his grip just tight enough.

“...yes, Alpha.”

“Are you really listening?”

“...mmhm,” the silly smile and bright eyes are all kinds of happy, the right endorphins hitting his brain pan. He wants to whine a little and arch his back, wants to nestle his cheek in his Alpha’s palm, wants to stay right here, surrounded by the musk.

The nose nuzzle is nice, and he nuzzles back sloppily, sighing in contentment.

“Good. Because I’m so glad you came tonight. Wanted you with me so much. Let me spoil you a little. Make you a nice dinner, cuddle you, scent-mark you. I love having my Pack close, Timmy, and you’ve been gone too long.”

The grip on the back of his neck eases up so Dick can slide a hand in his hair, can pull his head back to get more of his throat to scent. And it’s too much Pack for him, not enough, not nearly enough. He wants Dick’s mouth and hands, wants the pressure in his belly to get tight with need. If he doesn’t do something, then the night is going to be a bust.

Well, there is a plan, isn’t there?

“I...I brought you lingerie,” the Omega admits, feeling out his Alpha’s reactions. “I want...I thought it might, you know…” but his mouth falls open when warm wet of Dick’s tongue against his jugular is obvious marking that he’s too wound up to takes as extremely promising.

Dick doesn’t pause in his ministrations, but he does in fact want to know what Tim was thinking since it’s obvious his Omega had a plan before he even came to Gotham.

The Alpha in him in just a set of raw wants and instincts since he’s not in Rut or Tim in Heat, he’s more Dick Grayson than Pack Alpha, which is the only reason he can actually stop when Tim finishes the thought–

“...might make my Heat hit faster, then we can...I mean, I would really, really liked to have sex tonight, and I’m pretty close anyway, so I was hoping–”

Hold the phone.

Dick’s grip on the back of Tim’s neck loosens a little, not enough to free the Omega completely, but enough for him to blink some of the glaze out of his eyes, to pause his slurry ramblings.

“Timmy,” is low in his throat.

“I want…” and here it is, the moment of truth, “Dick, I want you to want me.”

Dick goes immediately still.

“N-not because I’m an Omega or-or to keep me in the family. I don’t want this to be about Pack or biology,” and his mouth is running away with him because that damn grip on his neck had been so good. “But the only time you both do anything is when I’m in Heat, so...so if you’re both here, and I’m close, maybe...maybe you could–”

–bite.

Dick rises up, his chest tight with what his, their Omega, their partner, their friend, their lover is trying to tell him.

How could you think that was only about Alphas and Omegas? Heats and Ruts...?

This time, Dick’s hand tightens down enough that Tim’s mouth drops open, and he gets fuzzy again, the vigilante in his brain stepping back for the Omega lying under that hand, the Omega submitting.

“You planned to come here and use our pheromones to force yourself into Heat? Because you think that’s the only way we’d want you? Is that what I’m hearing, Tim?” And Dick’s eyes sharpen, his hand directing Tim to look at him.

“But-but you didn’t–! You don’t touch me unless…” and even if he’s muddled with the hand on the back of his neck, he knows Dick’s facial expressions well enough to stop what he’s saying immediately and go back to the original plan, “I wanted–I want your bite. And you won’t...you won’t give it to me unless I’m–”

And oh. Oh, Jay is going to be unhappy about this.

But who’s Dick really kidding? He’s sure as hell not happy to hear this after more than a year with their sleep-deprived pack mate, thinking they were finally, finally getting somewhere, getting it through the third Robin’s head.

(You’re not a bad Omega, Timmy.)

Hearing this is where their bird is at, timid with the grip on the back of his neck, trying to justify sullying their first time outside of Heat with–with this.

He lets out a low growl before he realizes it.

Tim trails off because Dick’s scent suddenly spikes, deeper, muskier; it’s so much like the first time in Titan’s Tower, after the first knotting and he could actually think around the need, when he noticed how their scents filled up his room, and Dick held him so tight while they were tied, gave little kisses to the nape of his neck, purred against his back.

He swallows as Alpha lifts his head enough for those blue eyes to focus right in on him.

It’s subtle, when Dick’s free hand slides in the pocket of his sweatpants, activates the comm he usually keeps close for just in case when he’s got a night off.

Two taps and it’s broadcasting to the Red Hood’s helmet on a secondary private line. He knows about where in the usual route Jay is probably hitting about now, so he’s absolutely sure they have the other Alpha’s complete attention.

Time to set the record straight.

“Apparently, we haven’t made ourselves clear enough.” Dick shifts his hips pointedly, pressing their lower halves together, his knees spreading Tim’s thighs enough to make it obvious. “So, I’m going to explain this however many times you need to hear it until you understand. Then when Jay gets here, we’re both going to explain it to you.”

And Tim’s not sure when it went from could have miscalculated this to an all-encompassing mouth on his, chasing his taste, teasing his tongue, taking and taking and taking.

The Alpha’s scent wraps around him, filling Tim’s senses even when the hold on his neck slacks off. Dick pulls back, growling low and deep, something Alpha, something feral, scenting the space between them. Tim pants, almost says something, but then those hands are already fisting at the collar of his shirt before he realizes what’s going to go down right here.

The sharp jolts jerk his upper body, and the strength in it, the heat in Dick’s eyes, all of it makes a gush of slick dampen his boxers when he’s bare to the waist, skin and scars on display. The whimper is soft and tremulous, his face getting hot, mouth falling open.

“I’m not going to stop until you get it. Until you understand.” The wet stripe up his throat is more than marking, is scent and the perfect pressure when the hand on his neck slides up in his hair, pulls so he’s stretched out to give Dick all the access he wants.

“Dick!” And Tim has no idea when one hand fists in Dick’s soft t-shirt, the other above the curve of his Alpha’s hip, trying to ground himself, when yesyesyes is all over his brain pan.

“When I didn’t bite you last Heat, Baby,” and the voice drops low is all about Dick Grayson seducing Tim Drake, “why I was so tempted but had to wait–”

A thigh thrown over his, pinning Tim down without making it terrifying, making it feel so safe that his hands can pull Dick in tighter, closer, being so fucking needy about it.

“–was because I wanted to be sure. If you still wanted to give me the gift of your submission. If you do, then we were going to ask you to make it official. Not a mating bite, not until we’re all in agreement, but God, Tim, just… we do want you for you. You’re our third. You’ve been our third. Don’t you get that?”

Staring up into those eyes, the warm feeling in his chest has nothing to do with their compromising situation.

“We talked after your second Heat, me and Jay, Timmy. Agreed to try courting you,” and the Alpha in Dick is trying to take over, talking about things like courting and keeping in a lower, darker tone. “It’s why we didn’t push to be with you outside your Heat, Tim. Couldn’t until you finally admitted that you are ours.”

“And-And now that I pretty much have?” He asks while his eyes slide half-mast, when it looks like he’s going to be getting so much, so much more than he could have even anticipated. While the Omega in him arches and purrs, is so warm and happy, is going to be owned as much as he wants to be, will finally, finally be a Good Omega and have Alphas he can call his–

Dick’s mouth gives one last long lick to his throat, moves until Tim is staring into those blue, blue eyes, when it’s a desperate kind of want looking back at him.

“You haven’t really, not yet. So I need to show you that you belong to us, in and out of Heat. I’m going to make love to you. I finally get to have you every way I could possibly want. I get to touch you and taste you without Heat taking you away. I get to have all your attention, right here, right on me where I want it. And I’m going to use it, Baby. I’m going to make sure your focus is right where it belongs.”

A thrill goes up his spine, and even if he should be used to being manhandled by Dick at this juncture because honestly, the guy has no concept of personal space, with his Pack Alpha gripping him hard enough to bruise, growling at him, tearing his clothes off, he’s absolutely lucky he can even brain right now.

But it’s so much what he wants. Being pinned like this when he’s not riding the pheromone train, not in Heat, not biologically inclined, when he can feel Dick’s rough palms run from his abdomen up, thumb over the nubs on his chest, grip his jaw in one hand so he can’t even look away.

It’s so toomuchnotenough he can only whine low in his chest.

The lower body trapping him moves and shifts, slow and steady, until Dick’s hips are rolling again. “All you have to do is give us, me and Jay, permission to show you.” It might be a little shameless, the shiver of hips, or the absolute smolder (because Dick’s eyes are so blue when he asks, when he almost begs). 

Either way, his heart speeds up and everything in him just falls apart at the seams because so many old wants are right here for the taking.

“Alpha,” and Tim’s throat fills with a whine again, the one that’s all about things like need.

“Yes, Baby?”

He gasps, trembling with it all the sensation

“It’s okay, Timmy,” purred gently against his ear, Dick rubbing their cheeks together, “I promise. It’s okay to tell me what you want. Whatever it is. All you have to do is tell Alpha.”

“Please, please, please–!”

The Alpha pulls back just enough to growl at him, “Say. It.”

And even if it’s making him start to get wet, to make his body ready for business without the added bonus of raw instincts/chemicals, it’s still between him and his long-standing needs for the Alpha he’s desperately holding onto–

Tim wiggles, gasps when the hand in his hair moves back down and clamps on the back of his neck again while Dick slowly raises his head from where he’d been scenting and sucking.

“I’m yours. I’m your Omega. Jay’s Omega. I’m...Alpha, bite me.”

That damn hand gets tight, showing some real strength, and Tim’s eyes flutter back, the noise low and needy finally tumbling out of his mouth.

“Don’t...don’t let me go, Dick. Please, please want me.”

Dick hears it like a door long-kept closed finally open, and all the longing of the man, the instincts of the Alpha denied, makes a deep rolling purrr of nothing less than pure satisfaction rumble between them. “Oh, Baby. We’re not going to let you go, not unless you make us.”

And since they’re so close, Tim can feel the low growl against his mouth, can only pant while Dick starts moving his hips again. The more noises in his chest makes it out of his mouth, right against Dick’s, noise that means absolutely everything.

“Mine,” is the low, rumbling reply. “Mine.”

“Alpha...Alpha–”

“I’m your Alpha, Tim. Me. Not because of some fucking obligation or because of Pack dynamics. I’m doing it because I. Want. You. Just you. Just Tim, my Tim. I want to fuck you, knot you, cuddle you, fight beside you, keep you, call you mine, and unless you tell me ‘no,’ I’m going to bite you.” And Dick baring his teeth right in Tim’s face, closer and closer to feral is literally making Tim’s inner Omega more compliant with the display, makes him want.

Those hips start to move again, giving them both somuchbutnotenough.

Tim gasps at the friction, arches against Dick’s thrusts.

“I’m going to have fun first. I’m going to see you without Heat getting you ready for me. I get to do that all by myself and you are going to let me.”

Tim’s noise is cut off when Dick shows no sign of stopping, just licks back into his mouth, and the hand moves up so the pad of a finger can trace the tight nub. A breath shudders out of him because he isn’t riding a ridiculous amount of hormones and the touch of that mouth, of Dick’s Alpha cock hard in his sweats, of the fingers snarled in his hair, finger moving in idle circles to make his nipple peak, switching over to give the other some attention, all of it is driving him insane.

Dick just leans in and sinks more weight into him, makes him lie back, traps him so perfectly.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, Tim.  I’m going to make you scream for me, mark you, bite you because you’re mine–”

And Dick brushes their mouths together, licks over his bottom lip just enough to be a tease.

“And then?” Dick voice drops, low and rumbly, his cock getting stiffer where they’re pressed together, “I’m going to get you ready to take my knot.  I’m going to fuck you until you’re begging for it.”  

“Yes, holy fuck, yes. Yes, yes, yes please,” and somehow, he’s gripping and holding, his thighs clamping down.

“Maybe I should wait until I give you my knot, and then sink my teeth in your neck, make you come so hard. And you’re going to let me do it all, aren’t you, Omega? Going to be so good and let me own you.”

The strength of Dick fingers tilt him up so he’s looking deep into blue eyes, sliding down to watch that mouth–

His brain catches up when hips finally move and that mouthwatering Alpha cock is sliding over his with firm rolls, when his body has had enough to start preparing itself because of arousal rather than his biology, when it all feels too real, too much to even take, Tim slides his hands up to his Alpha’s jaw and leans in to shut Dick right the hell up.

“I’m,” he pants against Dick’s mouth, “I’m going to be your good Omega.”

“That’s the point, Tim. You already are.”

He doesn’t squeak when Dick rolls off and to his feet in an effortless move, reaches down with grabby hands to haul Tim up against his chest, leans in to nuzzle against his throat. The strength in forearms and biceps, lifting him under the thighs so Alpha can carry him through the living room and down the hall.

Tim purrs gently, low in his chest, lets his scent get stronger, lets his inner Omega out enough to grip and hold on, to make sure he stays right where he belongs.

The journey down the hall pauses when Dick braces him up against the wall, gives him an eyeful of fathomless blue before his Alpha leans in and gives him a slow, proper kiss.

And Dick takes his time, just brushing their lower lips together, swiping his tongue to have a taste.

The soft, seductive press of his mouth against the corner of Tim’s and then gentle lick to his chin, a mock-submission, moving along the jawline until Dick makes his way back to that still-parted mouth, waiting for his kiss.

Tim’s soft noises against him are really just Dick’s undoing, and he’s helplessly pinning his Omega harder between his body and the wall, ducking down lower, sinking in that much deeper, makes it more.  Without their biologies in the way, Dick can focus on the tremble of that mouth against his, the tangle of tongues, and the taste of coffee and metal and Tim. He can let his body be driven by more than instincts and extra-sensitive senses. It’s a whole different level of arousal, of wanting and watching and waiting for the perfect moment.

Even holding Tim against him like this, the clench of his thighs, the hitch against his chest, the noises echoing between them, it’s so much clearer without the overwhelming Heat driving his inner Alpha to make the pain stop, to give the Omega what he needs.

This is going to be all about taking care of the man.

So, Dick doesn’t have to stop the wonderful wet slide of his mouth taking Tim’s, of the way their bodies work, but he sure as hell does get to be annoyed there’s still too many clothes between them.

Right.

He’s got a bite to look forward to.

And the possibility hits him in all the right places.

**

Having Tim in his bed, their scents intermingling, overwhelmingly arousing, is so much better when they’re both out of their cycles, when biology takes a back seat and it’s all about them and pleasure.

He’s purring low, laying between his Omega’s thighs, rutting their cocks together to take them both higher, to make the slow boiling pleasure climb.

He sucks and licks obsessively at Tim’s hard nub, pinching and fingering the other quicker as the noises coming out of the writhing body beneath him get louder, longer, more desperate. And he feels how hard Tim is clenching the sheets in white-knuckled fists, feels his chest stutter with half-sobs and keens.

A litany of Oh God, Dick, Alpha, please, please, please! Is just what he wants to hear.

And with this new little discovery, how much it turned Tim on to have his nipples played with, licked, sucked, Dick is hyperfocused on giving all possible stimulation, to see if he can make Tim come just from this.

The pressure and suction increases and Dick pulls off just long enough to trade sides, is utterly ruthless in working the tender nub.

“So good for me, aren’t you? Fuck, Timmy. How could we not want you?” Dick manages to growl before latching on again, grinding his hips down.

Tim’s body arches hard, thighs locking tight around Dick’s hips, panting under the mouth driving him insane.

“Too...too much,” he whines, tears in his eyes at how amazing it is, how sensitive he’s getting, how each pinch and tweak, each lick and suck is making him throb, making the tension in his belly wind tighter and tighter. “Dick, I don’t–I don’t know…” if I can take it. Too good, too much, pleasestopdon’teverstop. The intense pleasure/pain snaps in his synapses, spreads and tingles, makes his fists clench tighter, hips almost arch off the bed.

Dick just hums without letting up, swirling his tongue around the taunt tip while he sucks.

The hand not fondling Tim’s other hard nub slides down his body slowly, sensually, over tense muscles and straining sinew, idly maps the scars he knows by memory. Fingers flick the fly and thumb the button on Tim’s pants, slide in to trace the line of bone at the perfect curve of hip.

He makes it slow, even with the unconscious thrusts, trying to get Dick’s hand where it’s needed.  

But Dick has a rare opportunity in front of him, one he’s so unwilling to pass up–

– after months of holding himself back, convincing himself to be a good Alpha, he gets to tease.

(And how is Jay going to handle this when he gets here? How is their third going to take having Timmy at their mercy, in their complete and utter control, able to take as much time as they need. God, the possibilities make Dick shutter.)

So he lets Tim thrust up, slides his hand to palm the arching spine, works the jeans off over the perfect curve of ass, groans when he catches the scent of slick.

He gives a wet suck before pulling off, looking up with a firm sense of satisfaction.

Timmy is flushed from his cheeks down to his collarbone, that gentle pink color not from Heat and biology, but because he wants, needs so, so much.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” And Dick groans, pinches just a little, just enough, “oh, Timmy, you should have told us how much you like being touched like this.” His thumb flicks the sensitive nub again to hear the soft little sob from that mouth, still wet and swollen from his kiss, before tearing himself away because it is so past time to get the rest of his Omega’s clothes off because now? Now, he gets to mark anywhere he wants.

Tim’s arms twitch, unconsciously curl over the still throbbing pleasure/pain through his chest going straight to his cock, his face hot while Dick stares down at him with those eyes, and the expression is one he’s seen before, one that never fails to make him respond. It’s calculating and mischievous, it’s the first Robin taking in all the possibilities, making a plan.

He flushes even harder under that look.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, Baby,” and Alpha’s voice is low and soothing, contrasting the hard grip on the third Robin’s wrists, as he leans over to pin Tim to his bed. The purr is soft and deep because it’s really adorable how shy Tim is without Heat driving him, how his eyes flicker away, how he bites down on his lip to try and keep himself quiet. (So cute.) “Don’t hide. I want to see you like this. I’ve wanted this, just you. No Heat, no instincts. I get to see what makes you hot for me.”

Like magic, the last of Tim’s clothes are off and tossed over the side of the bed, and the palm on Tim’s hip slides up in a possessive sweep, keeping those wrists pinned so their Omega can’t hide.

“So hard and slick, so ready. And all for me, all because I’m touching you. Do you even know what you do to me, Tim?”

And any blood left in his body goes straight to his face. “Dick! You! You can’t– you can’t just say things like that! Are you trying to kill me? You-you don’t even have your pants off!”

“I’m not in a hurry.” The acrobat grins salaciously, wiggling his hips against Tim’s thighs, refusing to give him the friction he absolutely needs. “Since I’ve waited for so long, I get to have some fun.”

Already seeing where this little thing might go, Tim narrows his eyes up at that cheeky grin.

“I’m sorry, what now?” He snarks back, throwing his calves around Dick’s thighs, “you think you’ve been waiting forever? For fuck’s sake, Dick, years of pining!”

“Then I guess I need to make-up for lost time, don’t I?” He tightens his hold just to see his Omega’s eyes go fuzzy, his mouth drop open enough to take the Alpha’s kiss.

“I think,” Tim tries to say, “that’s my line.”

The hand still holding his wrists tightens down in warning for an important second before Tim’s in action, working his hips in a perfect thrust to throw Dick’s weight over and put himself on top.

He’s not riding his instincts when he leans down to put them face-to-face while he straddles his Alpha’s thighs and his cock throbs between them. He gets grumbling acquiescence and pulls Dick up to work his shirt off so it can be his turn to run his mouth and hands over one of the men he’s desperately in love with.

He gets to be the one to bring their mouths together again with something more infinitely needy than before, with the promise of having everything he wants riding in his brain pan, hitting all the nice endorphins on the way.

He gets to thread his fingers through impossibly soft hair and manipulate the kiss, to fuck his tongue in Dick’s mouth and eat the noises when he grinds down, feels that immense cock hard for him through the old sweatpants.

But, welp, if Dick wants to be a fucking tease.

Then two could play at that game.

He pulls off to move to Dick’s throat, moaning low when his Alpha’s hands find his hips, grip tight, probably leaving him with finger shaped bruises tomorrow (marks he can look at, marks that will get him so hard when he thinks about this). He lets just the edge of teeth trace Dick’s jugular, licks to soothe the sting. And the older vigilante tries to put pressure on his hips, to move him right over the hard cock that’s eventually going to make him see stars.

But not yet.

Not yet.

He pulls off, and pushes Dick back to flop on the bed, gives enough of a distraction to scramble back and start pulling the sweatpants down lean, muscular thighs, and give the unnecessary covering a toss so he can see his Alpha laid out and bare, aroused and wanting just because of him.

(And this? This is hitting him right in the sweet spot, seeing how much Dick wanted him. Just him. Not the Omega, not the vigilante, not the Pack Mate, just...just Tim.)

“Oh,” is more of a groan when Tim gets to slide his hand from the inside of Dick’s knees and up his thighs, panting for the twitching muscle under his palms and fingers, for what is also going to be his–

He’s shaking with it, with everything he gets to have, with being able to go lower, to suck at Dick’s collarbone, and thumb the sensitive nubs on his chest into taunt peaks, to finally, finally make them both gasp out when Tim has a hand wrapped around the base of Dick’s cock, just above the knot.

“Fuck yes,” Tim pants against Dick’s nipple, “you always feel so big. So fucking big when you’re in me.”

“And I love being in you. You sound so good when I hit your spot.” Dick can’t help the short thrusts into his Omega’s hand, head back and a high noise catching in his chest.

Tim’s eyes flicker up to the stretch of Dick’s throat, licks his lips, and moves further down his Alpha’s lithe body.

“But I never get a chance to do anything,” he manages before swiping his tongue over a scar from Dick’s Robin days, “not unless I’ve got you strapped down and that hasn’t been often enough.”

And Tim palms Dick’s hips, fits his hands so his thumbs rub at the niche, groans and ruts his cock against the sheets (because he can have, God he can have this. This and Jay, and the two of them under his hands and mouth together with endless possibilities...fuck).

Dick arches when Tim’s tongue swirls over his hip and thigh, when his hand massages the base of his cock. “You can– oh God– you can strap me down another time. Promise, just don’t stop. I like when you touch me, Baby, feels so good.”

This time when his eyes roll up, Dick is looking back down at him, panting and pink-faced, eyes so dark.

“Then I can do this?” His mouth watering, Tim leans down enough to run his tongue right over Dick’s knot, to seal his lips and suck.

He moans with it, eyes sliding closed while Dick shouts from above him, and focuses his attention on the thick feel of the knot in his mouth and the rest of the full thickness in his hand. But it’s too rough and dry, so he keeps sucking, keeps mouthing and fumbles his other hand behind him, runs his fingers behind his balls, coming away with his own slick.

It gives him plenty to work with, sliding over Dick thick, throbbing cock while he gets the chance to work the knot that fills him so fucking well.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Timmy–” Dick whines high in his chest, fingers threading into his Omega’s hair.

He gets the vibration of a hum against his knot, hips jerking with the sensation.

Tim finally lets his tongue swipe over the vein, working up to the tip and swirl his tongue around crown, a helpless noise coming out of him before he sinks down to take as much as he can.

Regulating his breathing, sinking down until his throat is full, and the knot pressed against his lips. He makes his throat work around Dick’s cock, milking and sucking, flicks his tongue, and feels more at ease with his inner Omega than he ever has. Holding Dick in his mouth, staying just like this makes his brain pan calm and relaxed.

And they both let themselves get lost.

Tim’s mouth is so warm and wet and perfect. He takes Dick’s cock so well, making small noises in his chest while he sucks. But when he starts getting close, the tension low in his abdomen on edge, Dick slides his fingers out of Tim’s hair and fits his palm perfectly at the back of that neck and tightens his fingers just slightly.

The whine around his cock makes a shudder go through him, but at Dick’s urging, Tim slides up, looks with dazed eyes and a wet mouth.

“That was so good, Baby. So good for your Alpha.”

Tim doesn’t break the hold but his tongue lolls out to kitten lick at Dick’s cock again, making low, needy noises.

“Mmhm, I know, but you need to turn around for me, okay? Just like this,” and Dick gives a gentle squeeze before he’s moving and manipulating, pulling his Omega up to kneel in the right place above his shoulder, giving Dick perfect access to play.

His hands splay over the back of Timmy’s thighs, slide up to grip his ass and open him. Barely keeping in a groan, Dick lets his thumb trace right over that perfectly pretty pink hole, so wet and ready for him, so tight and warm and waiting.

His mouth watering, he leans up, leans in, pulls Timmy’s ass back so he can run his tongue right up to that tight little hole and start working him open.

With the first push inside, Tim cries out, hips automatically lowering to get more and his brain shuts down with the pleasure licking up his spine, making his cock throb against Dick’s chest.

He doesn’t flop down over Dick’s body, but it’s a close thing. Instead, he wraps a hand around the slightly swollen knot and works it while his mouth hangs open for a litany of moans and curses.

The obscene sounds, sloppy and satisfied, of Dick losing himself since the scent of Tim’s slick is thick in his nose, going straight to his cock while he works his Omega with his mouth hard and fast, sucking and tongue-fucking him so sweetly.

When his cock is taken in a warm, tight throat, stuffing Tim’s mouth again, muting his noises, Dick pulls back with a wet sound and arches up to slide just a little deeper.

“Yesss, oh yes. You want to suck me so bad don’t you? Wanna play with Alpha’s knot? Get me ready for you? Baby, I’m always ready for you.”

And it goes right through him, makes Tim come out of the intense arousal, to get just a little bit of his brain back online, and focus.

Robin training, intense physical, mental, and emotional conditioning gave him more mind over matter than was probably reasonably sane, but still, other than make him such an epic bad ass, it also gives Tim the luxury of taking a breath through his nose, opening up his throat, and taking Dick’s massive cock all the way down.

He hums when his lips meet the base, the bump of the knot behind his teeth, not inflated but just the possibility.

Hands suddenly on his thighs, gripping him tight, Dick’s voice a throaty kind of hoarse that really just makes him that much more smug. So he sucks lightly, eyes sliding closed, and tries to roll his tongue as much as he can with his jaw stretched so far.

“Fuck, fuck, so tight. My Omega is so good, feels so amazing,” And the grip loosens, fingers slide up to grip his ass again and spread him open. He tries to whimper around the cock in his throat, tries to say yes please, please!

Still, the push in is more burn when he’s not in Heat, is his body acclimating, but he bobs his head up to be able to catch a breath and sink back down, to suck the slightly swollen knot back in while Alpha eases in another finger, pulls back out just as slow, making a point to be careful with him, like he’s something–

(wanted)

Breakable.

He matches the rhythm, sucking on his way up and easing back down in time with the movement opening him up.

Dick keeps up the rigamarole of low, sweet talk, working his Omega’s body until he’s ready for three. Between the endearments and pleasured noises, between the purring and writhing, thrusting hips and moving hands, he leans over to lick away the slick leaking down Timmy’s thighs.

With a sly grin, Dick moves harder, faster, and leans up to tongue at those cute balls, suck one into his mouth and let his thrust fingers find the perfect spot. Just a tease, just a few soft strokes of his fingertips. He feels the body above him shudder, and his Omega pulls wetly off his cock to let out a sinful noise.  

Trembling muscles under his hands and Dick works him so sweetly. And because they’re not in their cycles with pheromones pumping, instincts driving, bodies craving, he has to rein himself in, make himself slow down, make sure Tim is going to be absolutely ready to take him, make sure Tim would never regret saying yes, giving himself over into an Alpha’s care, would have every reason to believe they were going to damn well keep him.

When he takes Dick’s bite, he’s taking it all.

Tim’s mouth convulses around his knot and he moans, eyes fluttering, and he drives his hips back to meet the push inside, to get that touch to the spot inside his body.

“You’re so beautiful when you let me touch you.” And Dick slows it down, pulls out with a sharp bite to his Omega’s ass cheek playfully.  He’s fast when he pulls a maneuver, hips pulls back, cock sliding out of that tight throat, gripping hips to throw them both over while he’s got Tim distracted.

“Hey!”

“We’ve got plenty of time to play Tim, all night–”

“I’m ready. So, so ready–” and fuck, he is, cock straining, body throbbing for it.

“Not yet. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Dammit, Dick!”

“Soon,” because he’s already moving down Tim’s body, dragging his mouth back to those pert, perky nipples again, eyes rolling up to watch Tim arch into his mouth.

“Noooo,” the younger whines, hands fisting in the sheet, tossing his head back and forth. “I need it, Alpha. I need it so much.”

Two fingers slide through the slick, play with his stretched opening long enough to make him keen, and then push back inside.

“Going to feel so good when I take you,” and Dick moves up to shove their mouths together, taking those mewling noises down, adds a third to work the stretch. “So wet for me, almost ready, Baby, just a little longer.”

Because Jay should be swinging by any minute, probably hurrying through his last half hour of patrol to get to Dick’s apartment, and if he’s been listening to this little sitch since the comm turned on, well, he’s probably going to be just as ready to show their Omega exactly where he belongs.

**

When the comm in his ear blipped, a whole buncha lemme talk at ‘chu on the ‘low, he’s taking a final run around the Bowery, looking for the next motherfucker what needs ta have a lil’ fight.

It don't take long for him ta get what's happening, hearing Dickie sound possessive as fuck, hearing Timmy in the background, realizing there's something more going down than he gets right off the bat.

(heh)

“–when Jay gets here, we're both going to show you.” Is an incentive for him ta hurry it the fuck right on up.

Sure, he wants ta be there when Timmy comes to ‘em after being gone fer a few weeks.

Sure, he likes ta be a good Alpha ta their ‘Mega, n’ a good second ta their Pack A, but something is hittin’ him right in the motherfucking instincts about this sitch.

So he takes the faster route, knocks a few heads tagether, makes it all kind of quick and clean.  He gets ta hear the progression, gets ta hear Dickie tells ‘im the real truth behind why they’ve been such a pain in his ass fer the last year.

Dickie tellin’ him where he’s always belonged, and ain’t that the topper ta his night?

Looks like it’s time ta stop playin’ around.

Gonna be ours from now on, Timmers. Ain’t no going back.

And the Red Hood is ready, oh so ready, ta hear their sweet ‘Mega, their pain-in-the-nut Baby Bird, say it out loud.

The sinful noises are distracting enough that he’s got to take a minute and put his back ta where the bailbondsman on 44th meets the dirty pawn what always has a few good snitches hanging around. He’s in the shadows well enough to hear Timmy almost crying when Dick sucks him, plays with him, talks all low ‘n dirty.

And it ain’t fucking fair, not while he’s gotta be out on patrol, keepin’ the damn city safe from the usual array of motherfuckers while his boys gedda play.

The Red Hood fires his grapple to go up to the next rooftop, biting down on his cheek inside the helmet at the obscene wet sounds, the muffled moans ‘cause Timmy’s mouth has gotta be full, and he’s gettin’ too hard while he listens to their Omega sucking Alpha’s thick cock like a champ.

And the prep goes on while he takes off across rooftops, while he takes fire escapes down to street level, while he taps his holsters when there’s nothing motherfuckin’ doing tonight.

“I can’t take it!”

“Just a little more?”

“You said that  forever  ago!”

“And I meant it, Baby. Not in a hurry.”

“What if I’m dying, Dick?!”

“Mmhm, if you were missing another semi-crucial body part, I’d worry. As it is, Jay and I already have your heart, don’t we Timmy?”

“That–! That was an awful pun, oh my fucking  God !”

“Be nice or I’m just going to do this until Jay gets here. Mmm. It feels good right there, doesn’t it?”

And the sob from Timmy’s mouth goes straight through the comm to his cock, throbbing behind the damn armored jock that might just be the second death of him.

The only way he’s staying sane and in control of his inner Alpha right now is the fact he isn’t hacking into the cameras in Dick’s apartment to watch the show for his damn self.

The last swing gives him the sounds of Dick shushing their bird gently, quieting Timmy’s wail–

(Fuck he can feel those thighs trembling under his hands, licks his lips inside the helmet and can’t get even a hint of slick, making him half nuts fer it.)

The line gets muffled, some noises of cloth moving, and he can still hear them at the back n’ forth even if the action is further away.

“Easy, Baby. Oh God, you feel amazing, so tight for me.”

“Yes please you sadistic asshole!”

Yeah, yeah, that’s their Omega, ain’t it?

“Shhh, just let me go slow. You aren’t in Heat, and you’re so tight, Tim.”

But there’s no reply, just a lil whimper an’ a gasp.

Hood taps the side of his helmet twice, growling low, “O. I’m fuckin’ done fer the night. Made my last sweep. I’m out, you feel me?”

“Got you, Red Hood. Hm, sounds like you’re in a hurry. Anything...exciting going on?”

And oh, Babs knows all ‘bout what’s going down at Dickie’s, don’t she?

“Serious with me, Red? I’m elbows over asshole tryin’ ta get ta my boys, and yer danglin’ what I’m missing infronta m’ face?”

“Aww, poor baby. Like anyone with eyes missed out on all the whining and pining in the family?”

“Keh, if’n ya wanna believe that, I ain’t gonna correct ya.”

“Sure, sure. The Red Hood is officially off patrol in the BI schedule.”

“Thanks, Babs. See ya on the flip.”

“Have fuuuun,” the wise ass is smirking. He’d bet his fucking favorite copy of The Robber Bride.

He gives her a chuff just before he pulls up sharply, shakes his forearm to reel in the line, let gravity take over for a second. The next shot is a block closer to his boys.

A double tap to go back the scene, biting on his lower lip when the next roof has to be a tuck n’ roll. He almost fucks it all kinds of up when he can make out a soft moan, thinks he catches the slick sound of movement.

“That’s it. Nice and slow, Timmy. Don’t worry, you’re going to get everything you want tonight.”

“Alpha!” is high and needy, so fucking perfect ‘cause their ‘Mega ain’t in Heat, ain’t comin’ ta them ‘cause he fucking needs an Alpha.

That noise? That’s all Timmers.

“I’m right here. Oh my God, you feel amazing. Just like that. You’re so tight like this.”

“Bite...I want...Dick, I want Jay to be here when you–”

“Mmhm, I think we can make that happen, Baby.”

He literally has to throw himself on to the next roof or his fucking cock might actually explode.

And there, finally–

The right goddamned fire escape.

**

Tim is a trembling mess, face shoved in his Alpha’s throat, moaning softly.

“That’s it,” purred against his throat. “Nice and slow, Timmy. Don’t worry,” Dick nuzzles at his face, “you’re going to get everything you want tonight.”

The hand on his hip helps guide him, and like this, every nerve ending is alive. His thighs are shaking with effort not to sink down in his Alpha’s lap when the tip slides against his entrance, his body still so tight.

He wants it so much, he might actually die.

And he has to bite down on his lip when he shifts under Dick’s hand just the right way to feel the blunt pressure start to push into him, start to open him, and it’s so much bigger, so much more than when he was in Heat.

A noise, almost a sob against that musk, that throat as they work him down together. His Alpha makes him pause and adjust, everything so much more intense and overwhelming. He’s absurdly grateful his Dick is being overly careful, making him give him body time to adjust, to grip those shoulders tighter, to groan and gasp with how much it all feels.

It’s too long when his ass finally settles in Dick’s lap, buried so deep that his brain is shorting out, and he realizes the gentle nosing at his face is because he’s moaning, panting, can’t think well enough to answer except with–

“Alpha...”

Dick moans low against the soft skin behind his ear, hands clenching down to hold him on that thick cock, and the bruises are going to be fucking fabulous. Claim marks right he’s going to look at tomorrow.

“I’m right here. Oh my God, you feel amazing. Just like that. You’re so tight like this.”

When he’s finally settled, the knot nudged against him, he feels so overwhelmingly full, panting with it, holding on to Dick with both arms while his body adjusts.

“Bite...I want...Dick, I want Jay to be here when you–”

The Alpha smirks against his Omega’s hair, eyes darting over to his sweat pants lying on the end of the bed with the comm still in the pocket. “Mmhm, I think we can make that happen, Baby.”

Gentle kisses against the side of his face, in his hair, and his thighs around the first Robin’s hips, perched in his lap while they gently shift together, working Tim further open.

But dammit. He’s got to be all Dick about it and be slow and fucking gentle, like he’s trying to start the courting ritual now (but really, hadn’t they been doing just that for a while now?) with every kiss to his mouth and touch to his shivering body. It’s all so heady and hazy and unreal, and he’s getting border-line needy. But, they’ve got to just hold on a little bit longer. Jay has be close by. Pleaseplease let him be close.

He can’t stop the soft moans when he flexes his thighs. When he moves against Dick, his sensitive chest tingles because of Dick’s mouth and fingers, making it somuchsomuch, pleasurable waves throbbing from his chest to his cock to his ass.

“You’re beautiful,” Dick says in between kisses, “so good for me, Timmy. My good Omega.”

“I-I,” stuttered out when Dick pulled him down harder, fucks the tip of his cock against Tim’s spot, “I always wanted you. Fuck, when I-when I presented, I always had fantasies about this, and Jay–”

His thighs tremble, clenching a little when he works his hips up until the tip is just barely in him.

“When was it Jay for you, Timmy?”

“N-Not long after I started coming back to Gotham,” and the grip on his hips help work him down, “he-he always smelled so good. His hands are so big and oh! Right there!!”

Tim’s hands clench down on his Alpha’s shoulders when Dick holds him down, bucks his hips up quicker, the thrusts more shallow.

“That’s right, Baby, let it feel good,” and Dick is grinning crazily at the red cheeks and fuzzy gaze, loving how the younger vigilante is falling apart right in his lap. “You loved his hands and his smell?”

“He-He’s always been my Robin,” in a rush of breath because the pressure is heavy in his belly, not enough to drive him to orgasm (yet), but it doesn’t stop the tingles running up his spine with every thrust. “He’s smart and brave and sexy, just-just like you. I...I never stood a chance when I found out he was an Alpha-aaa oh fuck!”

Dick threads fingers in his hair, pulls him up, and cuts off his whines with hot, deep kisses, taking Tim’s mouth like he owns it.

“Now, you’ve got both of us, Timmy. You really don’t stand a chance. You know that, right?”

And fuck this is a much better plan than he originally had. Still, the lacey set is going to have to wait for another night.

“Is it bad to say I’m counting on it?” And his hair is mussed, eyes bright and lust-filled, pink down to his chest with the marks of Dick’s mouth all over him, scented and aroused, making Dick groan at the sight.

It’s imperative to kiss him again as Dick shifts, pulls out of the warm, wet, heat, and kisses away the whines. He turns his Omega around to bring them together in a position easier to wait out a knot.

“That’s exactly what I want to hear, Baby. Now, be my good Omega, and present.”

A shiver goes down Tim’s spine at the order, at his fucking Alpha wanting him to do it. So with slick dripping down his thighs, Tim gets his knees under him, feels the long line of Alpha male sliding against his back, trembles just a little when a hand slides up his hip and belly, thumbs over his sensitive chest, grips his shoulder so Dick can hold him in place.

“Breathe for me, Baby,” is soft against his ear, the arm tightening, and his inner Omega purrs at the possessiveness in that hold.

And even if it’s easier than last time, the slick pressure slowly pressing inside him again is still so much, stretching him with that painful/pleasurable edge that leaves him gasping.

His eyes flutter closed until Dick bottoms out, the low growl rumbling against his back, sending shocks to his hard cock, and Dick just rocks his hips for more friction, turns so Tim can nose under his chin.

“Yes, just like that,” Dick raises his chin to give his Omega more room, holds him still. “So beautiful for me.”

“Pretty as a picture, ain’t he?” Is deep through the synths when the Red Hood comes to them through the shadows of the hall. He’s only wearing the body suit and gloves; the gauntlets, jacket, and holsters are already discarded without a sound.

Pulling off the helmet adds his scent to the room, dropping it off on the floor before he approaches them on the bed, lookin’ his fill.

“Yer so pink, sweetheart, smell so good with Dickie buried in ya,” Jay greets him with a gloved hand palming his throat, tilting his chin up to accept the deep, dirty kiss.

“Thank fuck,” Dick breathes against the top of Timmy’s head, trying desperately hold still, but his hips keep jerking forward, “I didn’t think you were ever getting here.”

“Wouldn’t miss this f’ the world, Baby Boy, not when we gedda make it official.” Jay grins and pulls off the domino, leans back enough to start taking off the rest of the suit. “‘Cause the way I hear it, Timmy’s finally gonna make honest Alphas outta us, ain’t he Dickie?”

The body suit is unzipped to his hips, shoved off his shoulders, bare hands by the time he palms their Omega’s hard cock, earns a high whine, dazed eyes lock on him, trying to decide if he wants to fuck into Jay’s hand or Dick’s cock.

“You want to hear him say it, Jay?” Dick’s eyes are bright blue, the Alpha in him settled in a way it hadn’t been until his second finally made it to them. “You want him to tell you who he belongs to?” Dick’s eyes stay on Jay when he leans in to lick a line up Tim’s jugular.

“More n’ just that,” Jay fumbles his boots, shoving the body suit off until he’s only in a pair of tight boxer briefs, the straining front drawing Tim’s eye immediately. “He’s gonna scream it when he comes, ain’t cha? Gonna tell us who the fuck ya belong ta, yeah?”

At this juncture, Tim is ready to do just about anything as long as they keep going.

(And never fucking stop.)

“Please,” he gasps up at Jay, one hand gripping Dick’s wrist, the other gripping his Pack’s second Alpha who smells so good, who purrs low at him while running a big hand over the obvious curve in those tight boxers. Jay slides his hand more firmly, working himself while Timmy n’ Dick watched, hiding nothing about how this little sitch is getting him hard and ready. But the sight makes the Omega’s brain blank because Jay is Tim’s now.

“Jay...please.”

“Dickie already told ya, Sweets. Just gotta tell us what ‘cha want from us, yeah?”

His brain is lost in the haze, the sweet and maddening shift of Dick’s hips, softly moving deep in him while Jay nuzzles behind his ear, both of them waiting on him.

His thighs tremble, surrounded by their scents and skin, with the slick sucking sound of Dick sliding easily, deeply and Jay’s soft, soothing purr.

His cheeks get warmer, and Dick’s grip loosens enough to let him lean forward, closer to Jay’s scent. “Hold me,” he groans out, “want you to h-hold me when he–oh God!–when he bites. Please, Alpha. Want you to hold me, keep me.”

And hearing it, pulling back to look at Timmy’s pink face and gently panting mouth, those eyes perfectly dazed with lust and arousal, with how full Dickie is makin’ him. The room smells like a fucking bakery with how hot their boy is fer all of it.

“‘At’s my good, ‘Mega, tellin’ us whatcha need,” he gives that mouth his kiss, sucking on puffy lips when the jolts get closer together, when Dick is moaning over Tim’s shoulder, watching them with feral intent, trying so hard to slow down, to draw it out now that Jay’s here, make them all insane with it, make them all take it slow enough to appreciate their first time without biological imperative.

But they’re so beautiful together (mates. His mates, the Alpha whispers at the back of his mind while he watches the peep of pink tongues and sweet noises of want) that his hips are jerking forward in Tim’s welcome heat, his cock swelling a little, bringing him closer to the edge.

He might ground his knot against Tim’s hole to hear the moans in Jay’s mouth end in wails.

It’s good when one of them has enough brain power to move, Jay not bothering to slide his boxers down, but situate himself in the space between Tim’s knees and Dick’s on the outside, to hold out his arms when Dick leans them down, little more than panting with strain and heat and all the things they’d talked about maybe having one day.

(“He’d be so sweet ‘tween us, you feel me here, Alpha?” Said one night in their bed when the dawn was riding the sky and the suits had been put aside.

“Some day,” yawned into his collar bone. “If it gets too much with him...you’ll tell me, right?”

“Don’t be stupid. One day he’s gonna get it. Then, we’re gonna have ‘im any time we want.”

“Ours, huh?”

“You know it. Right where he fuckin’ belongs.”)

Tim just lets go and lays against him, all wet mouth and half-mast eyes, reeking of arousal and slick and pre-come, gripping his shoulders with both hands while he moans against Jay’s collar bone, moving with the motion of Dick’s thrusts.

And Jay holds on, threads fingers in too-long hair, eyes moving from Tim’s slack expression to Dick’s half-pained, his boys coming right the fuck a part for ‘im, had waited ‘til he got here fer the very best part.

“At’s ’right, Baby, take that cock. All open n’ getting fucked but good. So pretty when yer wet n’ hard n’ ready fer Dickie ta knot ya up right. Want ‘em all up inside, markin’ ya, makin’ ya ours. Want it so fucking bad, just like a good little ‘Mega, yeah?”

Hands tighten on his shoulders and the pace picks up again, the keening moan sounds right where Timmy oughta be, getting the right kind of desperate.

It’s almost second nature for Jay to slide his bare hand to that perfect place on the back of his neck, let his hand tighten enough to make their Omega flop bonelessly on his chest.

“Lookit how much he wants, Dickie, lookit how good he is, givin’ it up f’ ya ta take,” and Jay thinks it’s right about time to be a nasty bastard about it ‘cause he’s got a first row seat ta this motherfucking show, an’ he’s been waiting too damn long not to have a hand in it.

So he holds Tim down, steady while he’s taking a viscious fucking, looking over that head of unruly hair to their Pack Alpha intent on the back of that neck, waits for Dick’s blue, blue eyes to roll up and see him

“I want ‘im, need ‘im, Baby Boy.” Which makes Dick’s hard n’ fast stutter for long enough that Jay knows he’s listening. “An’ yer gonna give ‘im ta me, ain’t cha? Gonna bite ‘em fer us, put yer fucking mark right on ‘im so’s we ain’t gotta let go no more.”

“Mate,” is growly and low, the Alpha in him making an appearance, “Jay–”

“Show ‘im, Alpha,” Jay purrs back, “show ‘im we ain’t gonna let ‘im go this time.”

Tim lets out a scream when the hard, jarring thrusts hit his spot dead on, and his leaking cock gives a painfully pleasurable throb trapped between them. His eyes are wet, spilling over because the haze of pleasure isn’t dimming with the hard pounding he’s taking, the tight hold Dick has on his hips, or with what Jay is saying against the top of his head.

Instead, he feels everything, everything to the point his nerve-endings are alive with sensation, the pain/pleasure throbbing from his ass to his cock to his nipples. It’s toomuchnotenough that he’s going to fucking die on Dick’s knot if they keep him trapped like this–

“That’s it, so ready ta come, ain’t cha, Sweets?” Jay’s fingers tighten in his hair, hold him still.

“Please!” is more of a sob than actual words because his thighs are shaking and the sound of Dick fucking his slick ass is so loud and wet and obscene. “Please…” don’t throw me away again “...keep me.”

Jay purrs under him, arms tightening to the point of pain.

Dick flops across his back, weight pinning Tim tighter against Jay, the angle changing enough to make the knot start pushing into him, trying to lock them together.

“After this,” Dick growls out between panting breaths, his Alpha riding him as hard as it had when he mated Jay, “you’re ours, Omega.”

And his mouth waters at the sight of that neck, of the perfect spot right below the nearly-there indentations of Jay’s teeth.

“Yes,” Tim sobs against Jay’s chest, hands tightening down on his Alpha, “bite me, fuck pleaseplease bite me.”

The Alpha in Dick Grayson howls hearing those words, and just as he fucks back in hard, his knot starts to throb.

The growl is low and deep, his eyes meeting Jay’s over the top of Timmy’s head, those jade flecks in Jay’s eyes are so dark with want. “He’s beggin fer it, Alpha. Ain’t we waited long enough?”

Dick’s lip curls off his teeth, his scent spiking, and he pulls back to give shorter, hard thrusts, making Tim’s hole open more when the knot starts working inside. 

A rough palm slides down his belly, the touch ghosts over his hard cock and earns a whimper, but don’t stop moving under his balls, fingers finally finding Dick’s cock furiously fucking his wet hole. Timmy’s so slick there, enough to get his fingers nice n’ wet, lets Jay go back and fist that pretty cock at the base, to feel Tim jerk against him without getting anywhere since they’ve got him pinned down.

“S’ what I want,” Jay breathes while the noises get louder, needier, right where he needs ta be, “t’ see ya desperate, see ya give yerself up fer him, jus’ like ya did fer me, Baby.”

“Yours,” Tim gasps with tears in his eyes, crying out when the knot almost, almost fills him. “I’m yours.”

“No. More. Running,” is punctuated with each hard push, the knot swelling in anticipation, his jaw tingling with the need to bite.

“No more running!” Is almost a scream.

“Gonna let us take care a’ ya when we want.” Jay demands, stroking his fingers and palm over his Omega’s throbbing erection. His other hand tightens in too-long hair, bares the back of that neck.

“Whenever you want!” His knees are too shaky, and Dick slides an arm down around his waist to keep his ass in the air.

“No more fighting us.”

“No...ugh ugh uuugh!...fighting! I’m yours. For fuck’s sake, Alpha, Bite. Me!” Is his last, desperate bid, his face wet, his body wound so tight, ready to snap if he could just get–

–Dick’s jaw opens up on a deep, dark growl.

The last thrust is enough to finally, finally fuck his knot inside their Omega’s warm body, is enough for it to swell and tie them together.

And his inner Alpha surges forth, filling him with complete satisfaction when he strikes.

The orgasm is utterly blinding, Tim’s body exploding with the teeth sinking in, the knot expanding and throbbing, filling him so full. The pleasure is electric up his spine, so overwhelming that he can only go limp between them with a sob, letting their strength hold him up.

Each pulse of the knot inside him, the lock of teeth in his neck, the hands on him, the heartbeat against his chest and back, all of it takes him higher and higher, and he’s coming and coming and coming in Jay’s hand, his ass clenching around his Alpha’s knot to milk even more.

His low whimpering is fuzzy to his own ears, and while the bodies around him press even closer, he can feel lust and love and other things not in his own brain pan just on the edges of his awareness.

It’s muted and hazy, the first time he’s felt anything like the partial bond slide into place, giving him a hint of his Alphas’ contentment, of how Dick is so much Pack Alpha with teeth buried in the back of his neck, possessive and satisfied each time his knot pumps more, claim and mine when he smells their combined scents, of how Jay is relieved and unbearably turned on by Tim’s laying against him, utterly fucked out on the knot filling him full.

It’s jarring and heart-warming at the same time to feel them both, the raw proof that the Alphas opened their bond to let him in, to wait on making it a full mating, to let it be his choice, to hold him like they need him, want him, love him, all of it converges with the aftershocks, making his eyes wet with how long they’ve wanted him when he was too scared to really believe it.

So Tim doesn’t realize how much it all means until he’s choking and crying outright (again) as Jason tries soothing him with soft words and gentle touches while Dick pins him down, keeps him safe and surrounded, makes gentle purring noises around the bite while the knot pumps into him, makes his stomach warmer.

Held between them, Tim can sink into their bond, into being owned, into belonging, into the promise of never being abandoned again. His Omega that mourned being cast out of their Pack, that had once forgotten how to call out because there was no one to hear, no one to respond, can do nothing more but lay slack between his Alphas and hide his face in Jay’s chest while his eyes keep spilling over.

All of it is more than he could have even hoped for when he left the Tower for Gotham earlier tonight.

(It’s fine. He’ll offer to save the nice set in his bag another time.)

“Sshhh, ssshhh, Timmy, Baby, s’ alright. Ya ain’t alone anymore, yeah? Gotch us right here. Yer Alphas ain’t gonna letcha up ‘til we ain’t got no choice.”

The hand through his hair is oh so gentle, just like the nuzzle to his face, and the pulsing warmth through the partial bond. The tight pinch the back of his neck isn’t at all painful or terrifying as it would have been a year ago, but is just another reason his chest hitches for breath.

Jay kisses the top of his head with eyes closed and his chest starting to vibrate with his own purr.

And when Dick’s knot pulses a final time, swells up in anticipation, he shifts his hips a few times, rocks the knot up against Timmy’s spot. He’s purring against their Omega’s back, the sound of those sobs striking him and his inner Alpha, driving the instinct to prove Tim belongs to them now by trying to wrangle a final orgasm out of him.

His jaw locks down just a little bit tighter while his hips work slowly, gently.

Shaking thighs, strangled cries, and a dry orgasm later, the third Robin is completely lax between them when the knot finally shrinks enough for Dick to pull back and reluctantly let his jaw drop open. The intensity of needmineoursholdkissfuckknot rocks Dick to the core, and he rolls on his back to be shoulder-to-shoulder with Jay so he can pull Tim up on his chest, hold him while their scent marks become stronger.

He gives nuzzles to that wet face and gentle kisses to that mouth, rubs soothing strokes down Timmy’s damp back, runs fingers through sweaty hair, can’t stop touching and purring, can’t stop being happy and sated.

The two of them are lost for a few long, slow, sweet moments when time just lets them be in bed together with Jay giving them both tiny kisses before he’s up and moving to the bathroom ‘cause he needs ta take care a’ his boys, and fuck does it make his inner Alpha all kinds a’ good with life.

The bath runs, fills up the room with jasmine and damp heat, and he gets to nose at Dickie’s face until those eyes clear enough to blink up at him.

“‘At’s it, Baby Boy. Feel good with him right where he oughta be, yeah?”

“Mmhm,” and Dick’s eyes are half-mast, his grin wide and silly. “Wanna come back and cuddle with us, Jaybird? He smells more like us now.”

“Ya know it gets ta me, how good he smell with us riding the edges. But I want cha ta pick ‘im up n’ get ‘im in the bath fer me. Get ‘im nice and clean so’s we can dirty ‘im up again after he sleeps a minute.”

“You make such good plans,” and Dick turns his face to better see Jason’s looming over them, purses his mouth and waits for the kiss.

“Agreed,” Tim’s voice is a little hoarse, but he flops his head over on Dick’s chest and his eyes are softly half-mast. “But one thing first.”

“Oh yeah?” And Jay ruffles the hair flopping around his face. “Whazz ‘at, Timmy?”

The hand sliding down his boxers, palming his still hard Alpha cock, answers that question better than any words.

“Wanna make you come too,” Tim groans tries to gets his other elbow down by Dick’s ribs to hold his upper body up, but damn he’s so fucked out, coordination with both arms is tough.

“Oh, oh, Baby, uhh fuck,” and because Jay likes ta put on a show, he eases his boxers down to his thighs, spreads his knees a little, and leans back, shows off for them. With the jade flecks in his eyes dark against the blue, with his mouth open, and so much skin and scars on display, both of them are helpless to do anything other than watch while Tim starts working him with a groan.

Those thighs flex and relax when he rolls his hips up into his Omega’s hand, watching them watch him while he gets a right beautiful hand job. It’s so much better when he takes Timmy by the wrist and tells him he wants it slick.

The pink cheeks are downright adorable when Dick frees an arm long enough to pull him closer by the back of the thigh so both of them can mouth and suck at his cock until he’s coming on their tongues and faces, covering them with his scent.

He’s a good fucking Alpha, riding the high of his orgasm, and putting his boys in the bath to be weary and fucked out, the bond pulsing gently with satisfaction all around.

He lets it just be nice n’ soft between the three of them while he cuts up fruit and gets sandwiches ready in Dickie’s panini maker, brings water and Gatorade in the bedroom, changes the sheets, and pauses a minute to take in their commingled scents with something akin to awe.

Before he can get them up n’ outta the bath, they’re already out and drying each other off before coming to him so the three of them can feed one another with kisses and witty banter in between, licking the pads of fingers, and finally wrangling around one another with Jay in the middle and his boys nuzzling into him from both sides. They lie together watching stupid television before finally drifting off.

And if he’s thinking, thinking, thinking while his brain pan is muzzy with the bites on his neck and their scents stronger on his skin, while he’s buried against Jay’s side with Dick gripping his forearm, while both of them snore away, his Alphas, his.

If he’s thinking how good, how much better it would be if the bites were right over his scent gland, if the bond was fully opened, if someday, one day, he could hold a hand to his swollen belly and it’s...it’s their young growing inside him. His and Jay’s and Dick’s…

Then his Alphas aren’t awake enough to smell how content those thoughts make him, not tonight anyway. But now, but now, there’s always–

–another night.