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Kenny comes to, slowly.
The first thing he registers is that he’s bound, curled up with his knees to his chest and his arms crossed behind him, laid out on his side.
Which is, believe it or not, not really a concern.
At least, at first.
Some nights, or even mornings, after his worst patrols, the sort that typically get cut short by his worst deaths, he would crawl into his barebones bed (or under it, or in his closet) and twist around and around until he was so tangled in the blankets that he could barely shimmy his limbs.
He wriggled slightly, sighing contentedly at the pressure that held him so securely. But as his cheek rubbed the fabric underneath him he felt his conciousness snap into focus.
It was too soft.
The bedding underneath him, plush and smooth and perfectly cool beneath his sleep warm skin. It was absolutely nothing like the scratchy, threadbare, church donation bin linens that he kept at home.
He jerked, his eyes flying open as he flung himself up. But still, he saw nothing. He felt the silken pressure slide over his eyes and the bridge of his nose though.
He was blindfolded, tied up, and he could feel the slight prickle of goosebumps across his skin as he realizes he’s wearing something exceptionally high quality. And soft.
He can see any of it, but he’s woken up in enough compromising positions to know it’s certainly not the worst he’s ever had. Some sort of loose top, shorts and stockings.
His guesses range from anywhere from sleepwear to lingerie.
But then, when is Kenny ever not at least slightly thinking about lingerie?
It better be hot. Kenny thinks in good humor, absently wondering how this encounter will go down. It might even be a simple routine death for him.
He’s no stranger to being kidnapped, trafficked and killed in back alleys, he’s joined the working girls once or twice after all whenever money got tight enough. Whenever he had the scent patches to spare.
But he always saves the strongest kind for patrol.
That said, if he’s dying without even having chosen his outfit for the day, he better be looking good while doing it.
He pulls experimentally on his binds, and while they hold firm, they also slide across his skin in a way he didn’t expect.
Leather, even padded, would be much warmer, thicker, suffocating. Kenny should know.
Chains and duct tape would chafe and pull.
But silk ribbon is almost soothing against his warm skin. Like a pillow turned over to the other side. Nice and cool and soft.
Kenny was sat up on his knees by the time he realized that the frantic tugging on his binds had turned into gentle pulls just to feel the way the ties held him. Something in the very back of his mind warbling happily before he shakes his head and tries to shake off whatever spell this—-this silk and lace have cast on him.
He freezes when he hears a chuckle.
He knows that laugh. He’s heard it loud and cracking like the touch of a live wire, he’s heard it bitter and cruel like a cattle prod, he’s even heard it soft and fond like the sweetest brush of static.
It is that last sound, right now. Saccharine and soft and decadent like a honey filled pastry.
Because, after nearly a decade, of course Ken—Mysterion would recognize Professor Chaos.
The question—- one of many questions is now how much does Chaos know?
Does Mysterion bark out demands as himself? Or does he play the confused civilian? If Chaos didn’t intend to take Mysterion then outing himself could make getting information and getting out far more complicated.
But, on the other hand, even revealing his real voice could give Chaos enough information to finally discover Mysterion’s identity. A decade Mysterion had spent hiding as much of himself as he possibly could. Different voice, different personality, different presentation.
Or at least, he let people assume whatever they wanted. And if those assumptions always happened to be wrong, well, then that’s what they get for being sexist bastards.
The problem though, was that if he guessed wrong, he would put so many people in danger. His parents, his brother, his few allies.
His sister.
Unacceptable.
Mysterion was brought out of his thoughts by that fond chuckle again. Closer this time. A soft palm with long fingers gently cups Mysterion’s cheek.
The vigilante flinches away, half because he’s startled, and half because of the sudden desire to press into the hand.
The villain coos at him softly, a low rumble of a thing, and then the low sweet scent in the room ticks up just enough for Mysterion to be able to read it.
Alpha. Specifically, an alpha trying to provide comfort.
Huh. Guess Mozz wins that bet. mysterion thinks to himself. He had of course never put any money down, not only because he didn’t have any to spare but simply because that was too immature of a thing for Mysterion to do.
But if Kenny had been able to, his money would’ve gone on Beta for how supportive Chaos was to his teammates and how unrepentant he was in invading the League’s combined territories and the creative viciousness of his attacks.
Mysterion was never going to tell Mosquito he won though. It would only cement his sexist reasoning that ‘only two alphas can fight like Mysterion and Chaos do’.
Nevermind that Mysterion was the furthest thing from an alpha.
Not that anyone ever guessed that.
“I can hear you thinkin, sweetheart. It’s rather loud.” Chaos drawls, voice as sweet as sugar, blessedly cool hands brushing gently over Mysterion’s bare shoulders.
The vigilante twitches, the villain coos again. It’s an alphan thing, deep and low and it resonates in Mysterion’s bones and makes him want to melt. He forces himself to tense instead, ignoring that strange feeling in the back of his head.
“Oh darling. You poor thing, how long has it been since someone touched you gently, hmm?”
Three weeks ago, when Karen hugged me before heading to college. Mysterion drawled in his own mind but he kept stubbornly quiet. Even as that lovely blessed long fingered hand crept back to his face and gently gripped his chin to tilt it upward.
“Have those League bastards erred as much as i have my dear?” The bitter growl in Chaos’ voice as he mentions the League drops back into an adoring coo on ‘my dear’. Mysterion, meanwhile, is stuck between relief and fear.
Relief because now at least he knows Chaos was targeting Mysterion and not Kenny McCormick. But fear because he can most certainly tell that he’s not wearing his any of his gear which means Chaos may be halfway to learning about Kenny anyways.
Mysterion clears his voice and drops it as low as he can, speaking in that carefully accentless, gruff tone he’s used for so long.
“What do you want, Chaos?” He asks as he bristles and he hears the villain sigh.
“Oh, sweet Mystery, i’m so sorry.”
That gives Mysterion pause, almost as much as the gentle thumb rubbing almost soothingly over his scruffy jaw. Some animal part of him reels, at this random alpha touching him so casually.
Instinct has him snapping his teeth at the alpha’s retreating hand. The movement causes him to pull on his ribbons though and the tension is…it’s heavenly.
Secure and soft and Mysterion relaxes into it. Somehow even the blindfold feels comforting despite his more evolved self trying to grab his animal instincts and shake them until they realize the danger.
“That’s right, feels nice doesn’t it?” Chaos hums. Mysterion can hear him move and it sound like he’s kneeling down beside Mysterion.
But not in the little nest pile of blankets and pillows, just a bit outside of it.
“Technically a packmate should be holding you safe, but my dear ones aren’t familiar enough to you yet and clearly those League members have already failed you exponentially.” A pause, and then quieter. “As have i.”
“Failed?” Mysterion croaks before he can get his thoughts in line. He clears his throat and tries for a commanding tone.
“The only thing you’ve failed is to submit to justice, Chaos.”
Chaos chuckles softly and Mysterion feels two hands now, over his shoulders, petting his cheeks, his neck.
Wrists brushing over the scent glands there, the bare scent glands. Scenting him, and scenting himself with Mysterion.
Mysterion jerks, hard, he’s reeling.
No one’s let him scent them since he was a pup. Not since he presented.
Karen has scented him, though it lessened over the years as she grew from a pup into a young, independent woman. But he’s not been really allowed to scent her for years, not if she ever wanted to have friends at school.
Because Mysterion—Kenny smells awful. Rotting leaves after rain, mud and blood and dirt from the graves he crawls out of nearly every other morning.
Like something decaying in the mountains or a beach filled with rotted carrion, as he’s been told.
His parents forced scent patches on him whenever they could afford it, his brother didn’t speak to him for nearly a year after he presented at ten. Dad had complained that if his omega son didn’t smell like a rotting corpse then maybe he could’a made some money selling a bitch’s heats.
(Privately, in his lowest moments, Kenny has regretted the same. Because at least if someone was stuck with him for his heat they’d stay. If only for a few days.)
Karen was mostly immune to it, after all it had been Kenny who had raised her, but as she grew and spent more time out and among others, he sometimes caught her flinching at the door to their rundown little apartment when she came home. Wrinkling her nose after a day among normal people who weren’t disgusting to be around.
So why the fuck was Chaos willingly marking himself with Mysterion’s scent?
What the fuck?
“What the fuck?” Mysterion managed to ask, his voice was slightly slurred. he realized he was leaning into Chaos’s hands as they rubbed the bare scent glands on his neck.
He felt warm, really warm. Like melting butter in a pan.
The alpha smells so sweet, warm and calm and strong. Yes, there’s a strength there. Very very good. Good protector, good defender, good—-
Focus. Mysterion snarls in his own head. Throwing himself away from Chaos’ hands and falling into a heap back in the nest pile of blankets.
For fucks sake!
What is wrong with him?
Except now that he’s collapsed in the nest it’s worse.
Because he’s surrounded by everything soft and safe and silk and sweet smelling and he fights to keep himself from just burrowing his head into the perfectly fluffy comforter and purring.
Purring!
He hasn’t purred since he was fifteen, hiding in a closet and terrified, trying to comfort Karen as their parents and Kevin tore into each other, almost literally, before the young alpha finally stormed out.
Never to return.
Except the occasional birthday text to Kenny’s shattered phone. For him and Karen. Never their parents.
But then there’s the sound of an alphan chuff, gently encouraging. And Kenny’s already just…right there.
Rubbing his cheek against the heavenly fabric is no big deal. A small noise comes from his chest. It’s not a purr, not even a chirp. Just a noise, cracked from unused sub-vocal chords.
And an answering alphan rumble. Pleased as peaches.
“I did, i failed you luva.” Chaos rumbles quietly. “Seems to me everyone did. I’ve known you were feral for ages, and i hope you’ll forgive me for how i went about tryin’ to tame you before.”
Kenny grumbled, that sad tone in the aloha’s voice was unpleasant, the sweet sweet scent turning bitter. No good.
No good at all.
“See, you tame a feral alpha by meeting them blow for blow, yeah? Proving that they can’t hurt you, or chase you away.” Chaos continues, “and we were so very good at that. Had everyone fooled, didn’t we, sweet thing? Even me. Gosh, and i brag about my perceptiveness.” He chuckles a bit self deprecatingly and Kenny doesn’t like that at all.
If this fool alpha wasn’t gonna be any help, what use is he?
Even blindfolded, Kenny can make a pretty good guess. He braces his bent legs underneath him and he’s not disappointed by the muscle he’s built there over the years
He lunges and his teeth nearly cut into dancing fingers on the edge of his nest.
The alpha startles, and then he starts laughing.
His scent all honey, soft and sweet and Kenny huffs. Pleased enough with himself.
Curling up. His legs and arms are still bound together, swaddled like a babe and his nest is warm and plush and easy on his skin.
His…nest?
Wait, fuck. Shit!
What is he—-
Mysterion has to swallow a few times before he can get the words out.
“What—what did you do to me? What’s happening?”
Chaos pauses and sighs again.
“I’ve done nothin’ to you, my darling, but made you somewhere safe and soft and warm. Yeah? Your instincts do the rest. Sure, taming wasn’t ever covered in basic anatomy class, but i know you’ve got to know the concept.”
“Taming?” Mysterion manages to croak “like…in pornos?”
A pause.
“Dear heart.” Chaos says, nearly whines, it sounds like his heart is breaking. “Sweet feral thing, wild dancing beauty. How the fuck are you still alive?”
Mysterion freezes. Saying ‘Because i never manage to stay dead’ feels like the wrong response.
A cool hand comes to rest between Mysterion’s shoulder blades and he wants to throw it off as much as he wants to melt into it.
He settles for the middle road and stays tense beneath its touch, even as Chaos’ thumb gently pets over his spine.
“No, love, not like pornos. Goodness knows how that industry treats omegas.”
Kenny knows, because he researched it at eleven or so when he got frustrated with seeing all the omegan actors getting beaten around, and Mysterion knows because he’s busted more than a fair few sex and trafficking rings.
Goodness has nothing to do with it.
“No” says Chaos fondly “no i suppose not.”
“I…said that out loud.” Mysterion realizes.
“You’ve said a number of things so far, my dear heart.” Chaos tells him, “it’s alright, it’s normal to be a little…out of sorts.”
“Normal!” Mysterion snarls, thrashing in his sudden rage. “The fuck do you mean normal?! You kidnapped me, tied me up, dressed me up like a doll, and now what—- some Stockholm Syndrome bullshit? I’m… i’m not…” his energy runs out in his tirade, the silken ribbons holding him down as he raged. He’s panting from the exertion, collapsed back into the nest.
Tugging at his binds just to feel how firmly they hold him. It’s…it’s soothing.
Like when Karen sometimes climbed on top of him to sleep when she was little. Before she started sleeping on her own.
(Back when Kenny was good enough. Or maybe…before she realized he was never any good at all.)
Wasn’t there… in health class in middle school there was that one class that got interrupted by the ceiling fan suddenly collapsing and beheading him as it spun but before he died… he remembered the presentation on the board…something about how omegas always were supposed to sleep in the center of their packs?
He blinks against the darkness behind the blindfold, he doesn’t even realize he’s whimpering until he hears the low alphan rumble respond.
A sound that means safe, and good, and protected.
It is a good sound, in a good voice.
He wonders if he said that out loud too.
Chaos leaves him guessing, but there is fond amusement in his tone as the villain next speaks.
“Taming is when a pack takes in and helps a feral, my darling. And you…you’re as feral as they come. All claws and teeth and rabid rage. Remember when you nearly tore off my arm?”
Mysterion does remember, it had been a bad night. He was twitchy and quick to anger and kept jumping at every shadow. Including his own.
A problem, seeing as most of his abilities relied on darkness.
He expects gloating, like usual, where Professor Chaos would wax at length about how Mysterion could never defeat him, even maimed. How they will always fight to a standstill, how Mysterion isn’t strong enough to defeat him.
But Chaos just hums softly, his hand finding its way to the back of Mysterion’s head, gently scratching at his scalp.
“Yes well, just as you cannot tame a cat as you would a dog, you cannot tame an omega, as you would an alpha, or beta for that matter.” Chaos continues, explaining softly.
“So my every attempt to prove myself as a good match and counter to a feral alpha, made me ever more an untrustworthy threat to a feral omega. Because you don’t need someone to fight you, to take the hits and match them back blow for blow, to trust that someone can hold you back if you go too far. Oh, but a different sort of holding, isnt that right my darling?”
Kenny’s gently pressing himself against Chaos’ hand. He scratches behind Kenny’s ears and the base of his head where his neck begins and, god, it just feels lovely.
“If you let me, my dear Mystery, i’ll hold you forever. Never let you go. You’ll always be soft and safe and fed. Nothing will ever hurt you again. Don’t that sound nice?” Alpha asks and Kenny can admit, it does.
It sounds very very nice.
A pretty kitty curled up in a basket, a housewife who’s only desire is a trip to the tropics, a princess safe in her tower. All his childhood dreams wrapped up in a bow.
“That’s it, luva. Look at youuuu.” Alpha coos and Kenny can feel his purring ratchet up a degree. Real purring, not just desperate self soothing.
“Sweet as a house pet. Exactly as you should be. Golly, that silk and lace all does wonders huh? Soft soft soft. Just like you.”
Alpha leans down and Kenny smells that sweet scent grow stronger, a gentle kiss placed on his temple. He melts into it.
It’s too good to be true, too good to be true.
And that’s what finally calls on the sharp edge of his remaining higher thinking.
Kenny whines as Alpha pulls away. Alpha chuckles.
“Oh, my pretty angel, what’s the matter hmm?” He’s close, close enough. Kenny tugs at his binds and feels his eyes flutter for a moment before he steels his resolve.
Surging up with what strength has yet to melt out of him. His teeth meet the meat of Chaos’ shoulder. They topple backwards.
Mysterion manages to straddle the alpha, the ribbons holding his legs either slipping or snapping. He’s strong, always has been.
Luckily it seems his drunken nuzzling has loosened his blindfold so when he bring his own head against Chaos’ with a crack of bone, aiming by the sound of his voice, he manages to toss the blindfold off in a throw of his head.
He grins with what he knows are bloody teeth, staring down at Chaos who stares up at him.
The alpha is not wearing any of his armor, just soft clothes, and no helmet.
So Mysterion can see his wide blue eyes, the claw mark scars down one eye, his bleeding nose from Mysterion’s headbutt and the awestruck, adoring expression on his face.
The spell breaks between one breath and the next as Mysterion remembers himself.
He tries to get to his feet, but he’s wearing silk stockings that slip on the floor and he has no use of his arms. He only scrambles for a bare second before he feel a cold, strong hand clamp around the back of his neck.
At the same moment, the alpha snarls.
A rough sound, a deep sound, that rattles Kenny’s very core. Not a threat, but a command.
Kenny’s eyes roll back in his head as he goes limp, falling back into that hand that hold him. Alpha pulls him gently down to rest his head on his chest with an adoring chuckle.
“Vicious thing.” Alpha says sweetly, petting Kenny’s hair and his shoulderblades with one hand while the other stays clamped around the back of his neck, gently massaging the scent glands there.
He was dizzy and tired and whined as Alpha kisses his forehead.
Distantly Kenny recognizes how it feels to be scruffed, but for once it does not feel so terrifying and enraging. Not with Alpha’s voice cooing so sweetly in his ear.
“Beautiful, beautiful creature.” He murmurs, “wild Artemis under the moonlight, fierce Thetis dancing on the waves. The gods would be so jealous, so jealous.”
Alpha’s nose nuzzles against Kenny’s cheek and he has no idea what the fool is talking about, but he likes hearing it all the same. He shimmies to press his face into Alpha’s throat with a demanding chitter.
Alpha laughs again, and Kenny’s head is…it’s fuzzy and soft and Alpha’s holding him safe and close and warm.
Kenny blinks against the dim light of this room and grumbles. Alpha’s moving too much, it’s annoying. No problem, simple fix.
His teeth close around Alpha’s throat and the gentle massaging to his neck pauses as Alpha falls quiet.
But Kenny doesn’t bite with any pressure, does not sink his teeth into the delicate skin, he just, holds there. Just for a moment.
The alpha relaxes into the hold, tipping back his chin with an encouraging rumble and that vicious something in the back of Kenny’s head is appeased.
He pulls his teeth away and instead finds himself nestling his nose against the side of Alpha’s neck, just breathing in that sweet scent.
“That’s it, angel.” Alpha coos, “that’s it. See? You’ve got no quarrel with little ole’ me. You’re such a good boy all bundled in lace, huh?”
Kenny grumbles, something nagging in the back of his head.
“Don’— don’t call me that.” He manages to mutter, like a child. Alpha chuckles.
“What would you prefer? Good girl?”
Alpha’s teasing him, Kenny knows it, but still those words strike something in him and he whimpers. Alpha zeroes in on it like a wolf scenting a fawn.
“Good girl.” He repeats emphatically and Kenny finds himself shaking, tears springing to his eyes as he shakes his head. Trying to escape the praise.
He hisses when Alpha heaves him up, standing suddenly with Kenny held in his arms, but Kenny settles soon enough as Alpha gently lays him back in the nest.
Kenny latches his teeth into Alpha’s sleeve this time, tugging him into the pile of fabric.
Alpha chuckles but lets himself be dragged and settles on top of the omega, who starts up purring, allowing himself to be pet gently. His shoulders his chest.
What few intact pieces of Kenny’s mind remain note with some pleasure that he’s wearing quite the cute little set.
All ballet pink silk and white lace. Ruffles flutter from the loose neckline of a long sleep shirt. Loose shorts end halfway down his thighs, also lined with lace, just a bare few inches above the hems of the long stockings. The feet have little paws on the bottom.
Its almost a funny contrast. The cutesy outfit paired against the muscle of his arms and chest and thighs. It’s definitely not something Kenny McCormick would pick on any of the once in a blue moon dates he goes on, or hookups rather… and certainly not something Mysterion would be caught dead in.
It doesn’t even obscure the scars that paint nearly every inch of his skin. The fabric rucking up to reveal them or just not even trying.
Never from killing blows, for all that Kenny wishes to have some proof of those, but terrible wounds all the same. Ones he survived long enough for them to become scars.
Claws and bites and torsions around his limbs where they’ve been twisted off a handful of times. Starbursts of bullet wounds and once vivisection scar spread like an outstretched hand over his chest and ribs from when he was caught by the Cult of Chthulu walking home late after a long week.
A history of horror layered on horror, framed in pink silk and white lace ruffles.
Chaos, still laying on top of him, is gently tracing the vivisection scar with one finger over his chest, revealed by the sleep shirt’s neckline. Though he never dips any lower.
The alpha leans close to Kenny too, silky blond hair tickling Kenny’s cheek and Chaos rubs his own against Kenny’s neck. Scenting himself again with the claim of the omega.
His hands are soft too, very soft for an alpha, the barest callouses on the fingertips.
Is everything about Chaos soft? Soft and sweet and utterly disarming?
Kenny tries to summon up that bitter, snarling thing he makes Mysterion out of but it doesn’t answer him. Not the rage or the fear, not even the pain that is—was his eternal constant.
So he’s still Kenny when he finally gets enough thoughts together to speak.
“Chaos” he asks, his voice creaks like a rusted door hinge, it’s his real voice too. He wets his lips as Chaos pulls away and lingers above him. They stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment.
He is…good. Nice to see, when not wreathed in lightning and laughing so terribly.
Soft, the barest touch of a mustache on his upper lip, the sweet curve to his eyes. The adoring smile on his mouth.
One could forget he was a madman, if not for the ever so slight spark in his eye, like the faintest flash of lightning in the distant black clouds.
“Yes my darling?” Chaos asks, voice so quiet and soft, a hand scratching at the base of Kenny’s head and fuck if that doesn’t feel good.
Kenny forces himself to focus.
“You don— you don’ need ta do that. I know it…smells bad.” He slurs, his accent marking him for what he really is.
White trash hick from the middle of nowhere Colorado. Called a slut on a good day, whore on a bad one. Friend by only a few living people, brother by only a precious two.
Chaos pauses for a long moment, he looks so sad. He presses their foreheads together and Kenny chirps a purely omegan sound of comfort at the contact.
A gentle alphan rumble is what replies.
“Oh, sweet Mystery. Angel, why ever would i judge your scent when it’s rotten with pain?” He asks and Kenny blinks at him in confusion.
That…doesn’t make sense.
“It’s…always been bad.” He says “rotten. Mama never let me in her nest after i turned ten and presented. She could stand sour milk scent of a pup but…”
Kenny falls quiet as Chaos’s arms tighten around him, something sharp turning the air. Kenny’s stuck between flinching as he did as a child to the scent of anger, or bristling as he’s trained himself to do as Mysterion.
But before he can decide either way, Chaos is pressing kisses all over his face.
His cheeks, his brows, the corner of his eyes, the corner of his mouth. He stubbled jaw and the bridge of his nose. The alpha’s scent is sweet again, and Kenny may know he’s being distracted, but it works anyways.
He feels something wound up tight in his chest and spine loosen. Just slightly.
“She should have held you, luva” he says softly, in between the presses of his lips.
Kenny shakes, he wants to snarl, or cry, press closer, pull away. He wants to rage, he wants to weep. To scream all the childish things he’s bitten down for so so long.
“Let me.” Says Chaos, “please, my darling Mystery. Let me. Let me hold you, take care of you. It’s all i’ve wanted since we first met and you kicked my ass and chased me across the while city. Laelaps and the fox, my love. Forever hunting. Can’t we just lay down? If only for a little while, under an olive tree, an olive branch. If i’ve got a fox’s tail, you’re welcome to chew on it. The hunters will beat you as surely as they’ll kill me, so i don’t mind.”
Chaos is rambling in his usual mad ways but for once Kenny can’t be bothered to try and parse it.
Instead he huffs fondly as he’s never allowed Mysterion to and reaches up to gently kiss the corner of Chaos’ mouth.
That shuts the villain up right quick.
Kenny takes the peace to nuzzle against Chaos’ shoulder.
“Fine” he says, blinking mulishly up at the villain as he lays his head back down “im…i wanna nap anyways. Tired.”
Chaos pauses and then chuckles.
“Rest then, my dear, i’ll keep you safe.”
And for some unholy fucking reason—-
Maybe the same reason that barn cats risk the hand of the farmer, the gamble between a gentle pet or a strangling fist. Maybe the same reason that a fearless wolf first crawled towards a campfire and traded its freedom for scraps of food.
Maybe for the same reason that wild things can be tamed at all—-
Kenny trusts that he will.