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Summary
“I don’t need you telling me what I can and can’t do, Frank.”
Peter hisses at him, short, but bright and—
Fangs. His…
Frank can’t stop staring at Peter's fangs, bared at him in a threat, a warning. Alphas and omegas alike using the same threat, but Peter is an omega, and his fangs are small. Well, they’re supposed to be.
Those don’t look like any omega fangs Frank has seen. They’re piercingly sharp and big.
What the fuck.