Chapter Text
Their home is the prettiest during the middle of the day when sun shines the brightest. The sun catches on the crystals, and the broken CD records he and Braxton shattered with hammers and strung together are placed on all the living room windows, coating it in rainbows. It looks like something out of a fairytale, like a promised wonderland they made into their primary den. The bedroom might be where they sleep and mate but it's here where they truly nest together. It's Tim's favorite place in the entire house, he feels safe with both their scents coated on one another, blanketed by the closeness of his mate. It reminds him of his family's nest, back at the manor, now destroyed and left to rot. Tim pushes back those thoughts, they only serve as a reminder of his failures, that he couldn't save them. He focuses back on Braxton instead, the only stable thing in his world being their bond. Braxton is the only person he has left now. Tim can't even tell if some of his family members are alive - their bonds weak, hard to grasp like papers flying away with wind. He has to focus on them really hard, Braxton's mating bond pushed them back far into his mind. Its like he possessed Tim, wrote himself into his code, overrode everything Tim ever was and replaced it with himself.
In one way or another Tim is always full of Braxton.
The circular nest is sunken into the floor, with all kinds of pillows and blankets that Braxton is furiously scenting, rolling around in them like a crazed beast. Tim knows better than to step in, sitting nearby on the floor like a condemned man waiting for the first shot, for the bullet to hit the target. Especially since he can feel and smell the first signs of preheat on himself — the molten heat in his belly, irritated glands, fluids already leaking from them, scent sweeter than usual — so he knows that his mate must feel the same.
Braxton looks beautiful like this, his hair blond again with blue coating the tips, clothes rumpled and disheveled, smelling like Tim's. His mate is always beautiful, but here? Building their nest, rolling around in it like an oversized cat? Tim can't help himself but get aroused, it's a natural reaction, one installed in him by Braxton.
Tim apparently just gets wet now at the simple sight of Braxton making them a nest.
Before Braxton triggered his long awaited presentation, Tim had an incredibly low libido. It was something Steph despaired about every time she was on her cycle — he was unprepared to take care of her in any meaningful way, outside of keeping her hydrated. Heats could be platonic, he heard, but since Tim started experiencing them he only spend them with Braxton, who never bothered to just lay down and cuddle.
Simplex has a side effect for those who are a compatible pair, like Tim and Braxton are — it attacks the nerves, like the bonding venom does so their cycles immediately synced, their bodies treating the fungus linking them like a real claim. Tim didn't know that before Lex reversed engineered it, he just thought that when Braxton gave him a submission bite to calm him down in the truck, he must have accidentally caught his fang on a mating gland and therefore made a claim. Claims like this are common, it's not a real mating bond, those have to be accepted and reciprocated, but it's an equivalent of coming onto somebody. Steph did that to him once, and he tried with Ariana.
Their first heat together caught them in Kenny's house. Braxton wanted to go down on him but Tim didn't let him. It didn't stop Braxton from kissing him and dry humping his leg. He just told Tim to stop moving while he came apart on his knee. Tim can sometimes smell the combined odor of slick and alcohol in the air when he awakes from nightmares. He can feel Braxton's clit and the way he dragged it on his skin, sticky with sweat and slick. He thinks he cried then, but he can't remember. What does it matter when Braxton makes him cry every time they have sex?
His boyfriend is an amazing mate and Tim loves him and that's all that should matter. He takes care of Tim, Tim is just the crybaby omega who can't gather himself.
Braxton suddenly sits up, scaring Tim. He is huffing angrily, a deep scowl on his face, fangs just barely peeking from under his lips. He startles Tim when he reaches once again for the pillows, ready to undo all his work because of a slightest discomfort. Tim doesn't get it, it already looks perfect and most of the time Braxton just puts everything together exactly how it had been before he furiously unmade the bedding. They've been sitting here for hours.
Tim whines at him, a small sound meant to capture Braxton's attention. It does its job, because Braxton hesitates with his hand stuck halfway reaching for the blue pillow with funny looking cats on it. They bought it when they first decided to move out, out of Lex apartments. Tim remembers hugging it close when Braxton told him the news.
Braxton turns his head to look at Tim now, forehead scrunched in confusion.
“What is it?”
Instead of answering immediately Tim takes off his shirt, abandoning it on the floor next to the sunken in nest. He begins to crawl into it, smiling at his boyfriend and swaying his hips. Tim doesn't think he makes for a sexy sight with sweats on, tiny and bony as he is now, but he knows he is still covered in marks Braxton left on him last time they mated — it always gets his boyfriend going like nothing else, seeing his claim on Tim. Proof that only Braxton ever touches him like this, that after him there will be no one else.
He is right, Braxton eyes him up and down, interested and Tim can smell the beginning of arousal in his scent. Cigarettes, vanilla and spicy cinnamon curling in the air between them, reaching for the other omega's peachy sweet scent like slimy tentacles.
Tim throws himself into Braxton's lap, immediately releasing his own pheromones to scent the nest. Together they smell like peach cobbler, with a hint of smoke. He leans down nuzzling into his mate's neck — the best way to calm someone down is with familiar pheromones straight into a gland. It works especially on Braxton, so deprived of familial comfort and bonds in his early childhood and then forced into a premature mating one. Not like Tim can say that to him, Lavigne is one of those subject they don't touch with a ten foot pole. Just like Tim still taking simplex and his family. He has to be grateful that Braxton only believes in the out of sight part of the saying, since he can literally put anything out of Tim's mind.
He licks all across Braxton's neck, back and forth a couple of times just to make him shiver. He pays extra attention to the glands leaking the sweet tasting liquid, dipping his tongue into them, sucking them right into his own mouth. Tim moans loudly every time the taste hits his tongue. It works like an aphrodisiac for both omegas.
Braxton's breath hitches, his body going rigid, muscles tense. Tim can feel them move under his thighs, frowning, he starts moving his head away from Braxton's neck. He has half of a mind to get off his boyfriend, make them both some space to breathe, and to look at Braxton's face.
“Baby, are you okay? Do I need to stop?”
Tim's only answer is his mate taking a hold of his waist, fingers digging into his naked skin, letting out small groans. There's really not anything that Tim could move against, slide against to stimulate his clit — not with his legs around Braxton's waist. To try and bring them both pleasure he would need to move.
Tim likes the closeness of this position, he has no plan of changing it any time soon but it doesn't stop him from humping against air. He goes back go to his previous job, Braxton squeezing him harder when Tim starts sucking his gland again. Its hard to tell whenever its a warning or an encouraging gesture. Tim doesn't stop.
His only warning are the groans Braxton lets out, loud and attention catching, right next to his hair, and the left hand leaving his waist. Before Tim knows it he is being pried away from the saliva coated neck and the delicious gland. Braxton catches his hair in the now free hand and forcefully pulls him away despite Tim trying to get back to his job. There's a momentary change in scent around them, his mate getting annoyed and irritated with his antics, but Tim barely registers it due to the pain of Braxton pulling on his hair harder and harder, his scalp starting to burn slightly. Tim whines but he allows Braxton to position him however he likes, he always does in the end.
They are still sitting close together, Tim still on the other omega's lap except he can look into those green eyes, clouded with preheat. Braxton is smiling, one of his mean smiles that always gets them into trouble.
“You are so needy for me, baby. My little mate, horny all the goddamn time." The right hand moves from his waist to his ass, squeezing hard a few times, and the left in his hair starts bringing him closer to Braxton, Tim's gland, leaking a thick and fruity smelling syrup, placed into to Braxton's mouth.
“My turn.”
Tim screams when he feels teeth rip into his skin, into his scarred mating gland, still red from last night, and the few nights before that. Venom immediately pumps out of the fangs embedded inside him. God it feels like Braxton is under his skin, slipping into his veins and making himself a home there. He already lives in Tim's nervous system, in his nerves, in his brain, with the fungus he planted there so long ago, dictating Tim's life. Braxton is his master and his ruler but he also belongs to Tim. It feels good to know that, that with the bond binding them together Tim can also influence Braxton.
His boyfriend flips them around, jostling the fangs embedded in his gland, making Tim whimper. Braxton sounds out an apology, but he is not sorry enough to remove his entire weight off Tim's body. He moves them so that their legs are now intertwined instead of just laying on top of one another, and Tim feels the other's omega warmth through two layers of clothes. It makes him realize how wet he is, how wet Braxton is. God he can smell it in the air, when he takes full breaths in, he also takes them in. Tim for the rest of his life won't be able to eat peach cobbler without getting aroused, without remembering Braxton's dexterous tongue and fingers.
Tim starts making small jerking motions, rubbing his clothed cunt into Braxton's leg. He barely feels anything, except small jabs of electricity, small pleasure compared to what Braxton has given him each night. The movements only serve to make him more aware of the damp boxers sticking to him. He knows that if they both don't start moving it won't feel as good as it should, as it always does.
“Brax, baby move, please." Tim is not above begging, or maybe that's just what he knows his mate expects. For an omega, Braxton likes to be treated how an alpha would be in bed. He especially likes when Tim begs him for "his" knot, for Braxton to breed him. It's a fun fantasy, Tim just doesn't like how his mate talks about it outside of sex, like he could actually get Tim pregnant and he wants to.
The fangs move from his skin when Braxton raises his head. He looks Tim directly in the eyes when he licks the blood from his lips away with his tongue. He makes a show of it, of letting out sighs of pleasure, swallowing it all down, his Adam's apple visibly moving. Tim feels his arousal falling in a fat glob from his cunt, his clit throbbing painfully. Braxton lets his mouth fall open, tasting the air, tasting them together. His pupils dilate and Tim's hips start twitching harder.
“Let's move this to bed, baby." Braxton smiles at him softly but with hunger, leaning down to kiss him. It's more of a peck really, a smooch on the lips. Tim can only nod dumbly, his words lost on him. He can only purr in response and nuzzle into his mate. He feels safe here.
“You are not ruining our fresh nest by drenching it in your slick.”
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They are laying together in bed the first time Braxton brings it up. It's well past midnight, the air is thick with a sticky scent of sex and sweet with arousal that still lingers on them. There's slick drying on Tim's thighs, his and Braxton's, left there after they slotted their legs together to hump each other like animals. Well, Braxton did most of the work since Tim's consciousness checked out of this world after his first orgasm. His whole body shuddered with it, like needles sliding into his skin and it hurts a little when he comes this hard.
There's also the smell of blood, traces of it drying on the sheets, on their skin. Tim can feel it peel from his face when his boyfriend gives him a kiss. He can taste himself more than he can taste the other man and his cunt squeezes Braxton's fingers for the last time before he takes them out. He feels stretched and sore, turned inside out after Braxton tried to stuff him with four of them.
Tim prefers fingering to the big knotted toys his boyfriend makes him take that bruise him from inside. One time it made him bleed and they had to go to a doctor that scolded them both for being reckless. Tim didn't tell her that Braxton hadn't prepared him because he got too drunk after his own mate cheated on him — it was his punishment, his punishment for those texts. Tim deserved the humiliation of laying with his legs open in the white room while the doctor stitched him back together. Braxton said he was sorry, he was upset when he got sober so Tim forgave him. That's what you do when you love someone, isn't it? Tim will always forgive Braxton everything, and if he won't Braxton will just make him.
His glands are swollen from all the sucking, licking and nipping Braxton did to them. Tim probably smells more like the other omega than himself right now — Braxton slobbers over him like an animal, to ease the possessive part of himself. Tim doesn't mind, he likes the feeling, likes to belong, like he was meant to be Braxton's and Braxton was made to be his.
Next to him, his boyfriend is rolling around in the slick and blood drenched sheets, purring like an engine. He has a pleased expression on his face, smug like the cat who got into the cream. He looks peaceful, beautiful in his afterglow, like there is nothing in the world he has to worry about. He also gathers all the previously thrown off pillows, kneading them, putting them into places that make sense only to him.
Braxton been doing that a lot lately, Tim thinks when the omega starts maneuvering him around, to fit him better into the temporally nest he has been making — he moves around their furniture, aggressively scents each room and sometimes forces Tim to roll around the carpets so their pheromones mix together.
At first Tim took it as a sign that Braxton was uneasy in their new apartment, that he was just taking time getting used to the new space, making it their own den. It can happen with omegas, especially ones as traumatized as his mate, that were never allowed to nest to such an extent. Tim knows that because of his early life Braxton didn't know how to build a nest, and Lavigne found his tries pathetic so he also never let him do it himself. And that he also used to take away nests as punishment.
But it has been weeks, and Braxton is still marking his territory like an overbearing dam, about to have their first child. You know, like Lex did with Kon. Except his version of appropriate nest preparation involved building the red light room his best friend is now stuck in. Sometimes Tim wonders if Lex scented each thing four times over and purred happily thinking about how he is going to keep Kon captive.
Honestly he should have suspected it. Braxton has become incredibly territorial, downright growling at Tim when he disturbed things across the apartment. He was the perfect age too, for the biological need to expand and grow one's pack. It doesn't necessarily mean pups — most people in their early twenties just go out and make friends, good friends that they begin building packs with. It's also the time when people start seriously pursuing relationships, looking for that one bond for life.
But Braxton already has a lifelong mate because he has Tim. He has Kenny and Mei-Mei as the platonic pillars for his pack. He has the familial bond with Luthor. His omega sub mind is missing only one thing to feel complete.
So maybe it shouldn't have surprised Tim as much as it did, when Braxton splayed his hand where Tim's womb is, buried his nose in his mating gland to whisper sweetly.
“I want us to have a pup."
Tim's entire body locks, like someone ordered him to stop moving. He knows the feeling, intimately. His breath hitches and panic starts clouding his mind. He somehow manages to find his voice, as panic filled as it is.
“What?"
It comes out as a whimper, a small pathetic thing and Braxton huffs out a laugh. It shakes both of them, makes Tim painfully aware of the hand caressing his stomach. It's like a mark of ownership, like Braxton is touching his womb, almost like he is saying that he owns it just as much as he owns the rest of Tim. Because he could make Tim have a baby, whether Tim wants it or not. He could even make him want it, he could make him want it so much his body hurts without it.
Braxton nicks his gland with his teeth, razor sharp and bigger but not longer than Tim's, making the tinniest drop of blood pool on his tongue when he licks it. It should calm Tim down, every health class he has ever attended said so — his mates saliva entering his blood stream should act like a mood stabilizer — but it doesn't, he only starts trembling more.
He feels a hand reach under his chin, guiding him to look into those brilliant green eyes, always so bright and full of life these days. Since Tim overrode Lavigne's claim with his own bite, Braxton hasn't looked at him any differently. Or he made Tim forget he did.
Furrowing his brows, Braxton searches his face, looking for what put his mate in so much discomfort. Tim doesn't like it, he never did like it when Braxton became so attentive. It's usually when he gives out orders, ones that hurt, ones Tim disagrees with. If Braxton is hard to deal with, when he forgets just how much of Tim's will lies in his hands, then he is a terrifying force when he is painfully aware he can make Tim do absolutely anything.
He doesn't stop caressing his stomach, the touch making Tim nauseous. The carefree touches always meant that Braxton wants more, more sex, more attention, more freedom. Taking more, more and more until there is nothing left.
Now he wants to give and it's the worst thing that he could ever do to Tim, to them.
“Tell me what's wrong.”
Braxton ducks down, putting his body on top of Tim's legs so he can kiss his stomach. So he can scent him there. Or maybe so he doesn't have to see the blood flowing from Tim's nose.
Tim doesn't know how to answer that question, he doesn't know where to start. What he should say, what will make his mate the least upset. He runs his hand under his nose, smearing the blood all along his cheek. It joins the rest of blood flakes on his skin, a proof of every violation done to him. When they were still living with Lex it used to be Braxton's blood covering them. He doesn't give his mate standing orders anymore, not unless Braxton misbehaves.
Why would Lex care about Tim's comfort — he lives and breathes for Braxton's. Tim is only an investment that is meant to give Braxton something to live for. If he gives him a pup there would be no way for the other omega to leave, to willingly kill himself. Lex won't help him here. Lex might even be the one to find them an alpha donor.
In the end, the simplex makes the decision for him and Tim has to start talking before he seizes.
His chest heaves, and along with words, small sobs start pouring out. Tim didn't even realize he was crying before.
“I don't want a baby."
Braxton starts raising his head from his lap, to look up at Tim but he doesn't let him. Tim starts aggressively petting his badly dyed hair, blond with blue tips, forcefully pushing him back to lay on his stomach. He can't look at Braxton's face when he says it.
“We are both too young, I am too young. We can't have a baby together, we would have to find a donor and I don't want to do that. You don't understand how difficult it will be."
Tim feels teeth pull at his skin, a small warning to stop holding his mate down. Braxton doesn't like to be manhandled. But Tim doesn't budge, he has to make him understand, so he holds his boyfriend even when those sharp canines sink into his belly. It hurts, Braxton makes it hurt when he allows his venom to drip slowly into the wound. Tim lets out a small cry but simplex forces him to continue talking.
“We can barely take care of each other. You smoke, you drink heavily and I don't have a spleen. My body can't handle pregnancy, I will be sick all the time."
Tim can feel Braxton pull the skin up with his teeth, tearing it more and more. What was a small punctured wound, now probably needs bandaging. It hurts, but it means no orders, no orders to stop. Braxton won't order him into agreeing to have a pup right? He wouldn't do that, he loves Tim and Tim loves him. He always said that they only need each other, he can't do that, he can't make their duo a trio. Biology be damned, whatever his omega sub mind tells him is not real. He doesn't need a pup, they don't need a pup.
“And simplex, what about simplex? It's basically a fungus infection, none of us can incubate a fetus with a fungi inside us. Think about what it would do to a puppy?"
His mate finally seems to recognize that his teeth won't convince Tim to let go. Braxton opens his jaw, letting the skin fall out, the blood gathers and before Tim can stop him he talks once again.
“Tim let me go and relax, dammit "
His hands immediately leave Braxton's body as if burned. His body gets light and all the worry fizzles out of him like air out of a broken ballon. He hates that order, he can't stand the fake calm overpowering his body.
Braxton changes their position, raises himself from laying down on Tim's legs to sit them upright. His back lies against the headboard with Tim sitting between his spread thighs. Arms encircle his waist and Braxton starts humming an old song, something Tim doesn't recognize. He heard it before though, most likely when sitting in the kitchen with Braxton cooking. He sways them from side to side, and Tim wants to bite him. It doesn't make the panic go away, his relaxed body just has no way to release it.
"What's so wrong about us having a puppy, huh?" Braxton's breath tickles his ear, when he whispers the words into his good one. Its soft, could almost be called comforting.
Tim hiccups, choking on a sob when he answers.
"I don't want it." He looks over his shoulder at his mate, voice trembling. " Please dont make me want one."
Braxton's brow is furrowed, nose scrunched — he is thinking deeply but mostly he just looks confused. "How would I make you want one?" Tim actually laughs at him for the question and it's a sad and devastating thing.
"Stop pretending, we both know you are still putting simplex in my food." Braxton runs his hand through his hair, pulling a little at the tangled ends, and huffs in annoyance. Probably at Tim's antics.
"You are being unfair here, baby. You like being on simplex, you told me that."
He's right, Tim told him that, he told him more than once, didn't he? He immediately feels bad, he is hurting Braxton again. That seems to be the only thing Tim is good for nowadays. Tears pool in his eyes, he feels like crying again.
"I'm sorry, I'm hurting you again." Braxton only sighs, sad but used to it, to Tim being a bad mate. He kisses his head, and lingers there breathing Tim in.
They sit like that for a while, breathing together, calming down their hearts. Their scents tangle once again, overpowering the smell of sex. He likes that, the quiet peace, the blanketing feeling of belonging and safety. Tim misses his family when they argue, misses being able to tell anyone about his problems. Braxton can go back to Gotham and talk with Mei-Mei and Kenny.
Tim only has Braxton.
They don't argue like this often, usually they scream and fuck about it later. He is always the first to apologize, because Braxton gets too drunk to think about doing it.
"Tim?"
He hums in response, already a little scent drunk, content. "Yeah, baby?"
Braxton doesn't speak for a while, like he is either thinking about what to say or has fallen asleep mid thought. Tim turns around to face him, checking on him. It occurs to him, that Braxton looks miserable, but there is something hard in his eyes, determined. Whatever it is he was battling with, he makes up his mind when Tim trills at him in question. His eyes soften, the golden specks in his eyes dancing with warmth. He looks at Tim like he loves him now more than ever.
"I'm doing this for us, you know that, right?"
"What….?" Tim doesn't even get to finish when Braxton opens his mouth and cold dread fills him at his words.
"You want us to start a family, you want us to have a pup. You will love that pup. Now go to sleep and forget I said that when you wake up."
The whole world goes dark.
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Kon doesn't experience cycles like a normal person would — his kryptonian biology colliding to much with his human one — but he does have his own version of them. Tim knows this because he helped with them.
Titans used to have a communal nest, a safe space for everyone to come and ride out their cycles together. From various stories Tim knows that they were not always platonic, but with couple of horny teenagers, rutting and heating, packed together in one house where everyone was hot beyond understanding, it was not weird. It was expected even, because Titans were not a familial pack. Dick still asks them for help with some of his heats, despite the evident tension, a leftover from a time when few individuals decided to start dating exclusively.
But Young Justice was not like that.
They pilled blankets and pillows together to build fords, spacious and tall ones to fit all the members of their team. They would place lights inside, snacks and water of bottles with electrolytes. No one would want to get up later to refill the supplies, unless Bart was around — the speedster too energetic to sit in one place and cuddle for more than an hour at best and that was only possible to achieve if he got scent drunk — who as a human from the future had a slightly different reaction to a pack mate in a cycle. To him, bonds were almost mythological, his glands were smaller than average for their time, fangs duller than a beta's.
Tim cherishes those memories. He didn't get to spend many cycles with his family, there was always something in the way — the Mission, his dad who wanted him home all the time to accept Dana as a pack member, those months after Jason's death when Dick and Bruce did not get along and were snappy at any pups trying to enter their space — and when Bruce finally offered, Tim was often too scared to accept.
There were only two times when he gathered the courage to ask Bruce to nest with him, when he had the Clench and when he first presented right there in front of Braxton, in the truck where his life ended and began.
He thought then, how much he wants to be back in that fort, with the members of Young Justice pilled on top of one another. With Kon who would hug him from behind and hide them both in a warm blanket, so they could both scent each other and purr like sunbathing cats. Kon didn't smell like anything except ozone and a hint of milk, but it was what safety smelled like to Tim.
Safety had blue shining eyes and dull fangs that didn't emerge yet.
Safety had perfect lips that Tim always dreamed about kissing.
Safety was his best friend, who Tim wanted more than he ever wanted anything no matter how many times he said to himself that he will not be that kind of stereotypical bisexual.
Sometimes Tim still thinks about those nest forts when he and Braxton get ready for their heats.
Since moving out into their own apartment in Metropolis — a cozy place in the better part of town if it even has a bad one, high enough so that outsiders can't look in but not high enough to trigger Braxton's fear — they didn't spend a heat outside their house, not in their own den.
So Lex knows better than to ask them to come back, he has been cutting the umbilical cord for some time now, claiming that Braxton should start his own life. Tim knows its a load of bullshit, there are still cameras here, running 24/7 with a live feed, and Tim would have to be blind not to see the woman following them around when they go shopping. But in all ways that count to normal people, who are untrained to notice things like that, they have their freedom, so Tim doesn't know why Lex asked them to go back now, for this one specific heat, right after Braxton started to push for a pup. It's sketchy at best but it could also be Tim's delusion.
He takes meds for that now, antipsychotics prescribed by a real doctor. They are helping, Tim doesn't wake up anymore with a feeling that his own mate is his enemy, that he should run from him. Those episodes when Tim would scream his heart out that Braxton is a monster, that he forced him to be mates, and hide under the bed really hurt him but they didn't go to a specialist until he started hitting his boyfriend, clawing at him and sinking his fangs painfully into his flesh because Braxton came too close.
Sitting on their bed now, naked, wrapped only in a blanket from their undone nest, Tim doesn't understand why those attacks happened. He feels so safe with his mate, he is what safety looks and feels like to Tim.
Braxton is throwing things out from their closet, packing their bags. He only has sweatpants on, his back and hair still covered in moisture from his shower. The blue on the tips is fading, he has to dye it again.
Lately his boyfriend been looking larger than life, more healthy. It's thanks to frequent exercise, he still swims everyday, especially makes the trip to Luthor's house for it. They run together in the park and Tim, with embarrassment, discovered that Braxton has to wait for him. His skin cleared up too, his scars are fading. They will always be there but now they are not the thing Tim notices first when looking at him.
There are more of Braxton's clothes inside the closet rather than Tim's — he doesn't have many clothes, he usually wears what Braxton gives him, which is an oversized T shirt smelling like he just thoroughly scented it.
Tim misses his hoodies, his jeans and even the uncomfortable suits he had to wear to work. Maybe Braxton will let him wear one if they ever get married. They should, shouldn't they? It's the next step, after mating bonds.
Tim hears his mate swear obscenely in French, something about Lex's bad taste regarding fabric. You know, because he was the one that picked out most of Braxton's wardrobe, before he agreed to let him out of the apartment.
Tim stands up from the bed, wrapping himself tighter in the blanket, and makes his way to Braxton on his trembling legs. The floorboards creak in certain places but he avoids them and steps only on the plush carpets, strewn around the room. Tim gets cold easily and Braxton doesn't like the look of bare floors, that's why there are blankets and furry carpets everywhere.
He collides with his mate's back and pride fills his chest when he jumps a little. Tim can still sneak up on people, he is no longer a vigilante, could never go back to being one, but he can still do that. He nuzzles into Braxton's back, however high he can reach.
“What are you purring about, you little shit?" There's no heat in Braxton's voice, it's teasing, warm. “You are happy you almost gave your poor mate a heart attack? You are supposed to guard my back not attack it."
“This can be hardly called an attack, I'm literally just scenting yo… Braxton, stop that!" Tim can't help himself, he rolls his eyes and for that he gets a gentle tug on his ear. He laughs a little, even if he is offended. He swats Braxton lightly on his uncovered chest, playfully. It's weak, Tim is no longer strong enough to seriously hurt anybody, and his boyfriend barely moves.
Braxton catches his hand, eyes glinting with mischief and Tim feels himself blush when he brings it closer to his mouth, fangs already peeking out. He turns his hand, wrist out so the gland there is facing him, he catches Tim's eyes for a second and winks at him. It's like all the breath has escaped Tim, his lungs shrink when Braxton scrapes his fangs over his wrist gland. He whimpers, loud and shamefully, when some of that dangerous omega venom slides down onto his skin. Braxton lets it escape, before lapping it up with Tim's sweat and the pheromones already leaking from the gland.
“Oh.”
He can feel the bastard's smirk at the noise, his hand coming to rest on Tim's waist to bring them closer. Tim feels tiny, like a prey, especially when Braxton slides his hand a little bit closer to his middle, so he can caress him with his thumb, circling his stomach. He feels ill at the touch, at the implications of it.
When Braxton moves his head away from his wrist, it's only after sucking a hickey there, another mark to add to the ever growing collection. His words are a little slurred when he speaks, mouth still full of Tim and his own poisonous saliva.
“Is my pretty performer getting needy? Did I not scent you enough?” Braxton squeezes him closer, so he can feel the moisture on his skin. Tim didn't even notice the blanket slipping from his form until now.
He shivers at the cold, goosebumps appearing on his skin. He looks up into Braxton's eyes, dilated and aroused, and opens his mouth to taste the air. It's sweet, the vanilla and cinnamon getting warmer with every heavy breath Braxton takes.
Tim tries to move away, to take a step back. If his boyfriend starts anything they won't be at Luthor's on time. From what Braxton said it was a time sensitive matter.
“I think we should finish packing.” It sounds weak, even to Tim. Braxton laughs at his efforts, his grip tightening momentarily and Tim's heart speeds up. He doesn't know if it is in arousal or panic.
“Hmm, I don't know if that's what you really want.” He leans in, knocking their foreheads gently together. “We still have time, maybe I should drag you back to bed and fix that." Braxton gives him a deep kiss, licking his upper lip but when Tim doesn't let him in, contrary to his words, he lets him go.
“But you are right, we don't have time for that. I will knot you at our old place, baby." Braxton teases him, and he speaks with the same voice he uses when he refuses to let Tim come in bed. When he holds him down and they just go and go, and they don't stop until Tim passes out.
“Go and pick your favorite heating toy, Timmy, and put something decent on. Not that I don't love the view but a car will be here to pick us up in an hour.” He huffs, annoyed and Tim hears him say something as he walks away embarrassed to the drawer where Braxton keeps the dildos he fucks him with.
· · ─ · ✶ · ─ · · ─ · ✶ · ─ · · ─ · ✶ · ─ · ·
Lex is not here, and he won't be here for at least the next three days, is what the staff tells them. Some kind of a national convention he has to attend, that will keep him busy. Tim doesn't understand why he asked them here then but he doesn't say that. Braxton looks almost pleased at the fact, suspiciously so. He has that look on his face he gets when he is scheming or when he is blatantly lying to someone's face. It's hard to catch when you don't know him, but Tim knows him better than anyone now. Literally anyone in the world.
They make their nest in their old rooms. Its not as good as it would be in their home but Braxton looks pleased so Tim doesn't complain. It's not like he will have the mind to do so when he is desperate and needy in his heat.
Its due to start the next day, so either Tim will wake up with drenched sheets and cramps in his lower stomach or it will hit him in the middle of the day. He hopes that the heat doesn't last long. It would be a disaster, especially now that Tim is aware how close he is to Kon. His best friend he hasn't seen for almost half a year now. They still text sometimes, Lex's orders that Braxton has to listen to, because Kon gets suicidal when he is alone.
Braxton checks the messages so it's not like they can really talk about anything important. Tim deserves that because he is a dirty cheater. But he still loves Kon, can't stop himself from doing so, from wanting him no matter how many times Braxton orders him.
They don't wander the apartment for too long, his mate claims to have something important to do so Tim lets himself to be put to bed, like a doll going back into the box. Braxton orders him to sleep and Tim sleeps. He wakes up later, in the middle of the night when his heat takes over.
Tim becomes aware of the sweat covering his entire body, making the covers stick to him, before he fully wakes up. There's a fog clouding his brain, it's nearly impossible to think, so instead he focuses on feeling.
His stomach cramps, painfully tying and untying itself into knots every few seconds. It's a constant cycle, one he is familiar with. There's a heat between his legs, the sticky kind that leaves no room for mistake what is currently happening. Even if Tim would still like to lie to himself, there's the scent that guides him into making the conclusion — his heat started when he was sleeping.
His first thought is to go back to sleep — right after unexplainable panic that strikes his heart — but he knows that Braxton will wake him up anyway when he starts heating. Tim resigns himself to lying in wait and reaches for the nearest pillow, hugging it to his chest, seeking comfort. He doesn't think about much, except how he craves for somebody to just hug him, hold him without fucking him. He also wants a knot, but the idea doesn't feel like his own, like somebody implanted it in his brain and tried to make it his but it just doesn't stick. He gets that feeling often now, Braxton told him, when he confessed to it, that it's the meds fault, that it will pass.
Sometimes in his fantasies it's not his boyfriend holding him but Tim is too ashamed to ever admit who he sees, who he craves.
Braxton is his mate.
Tim will spend the rest of his life with him.
His heart always speeds up at the thought and he doesn't question anymore if it is in excitement or in fear. Both can be true at once.
Tim doesn't know how long he lies in wait, doesn't bother to count the hours but he observes how the light changes. Before he knows it, its dawn and then there's the morning.
He hears Braxton when he wakes up, his mate letting out groans when the feeling of cramps catches him unexpectedly with his waking. Tim doesn't turn to face him, savoring the last moments of peace and quiet before his boyfriend rolls over and bothers him. Before they have sex, and Tim goes to the place in his mind where he always goes, when they don't leave their bed for four days straight, caught up in one another. Tim doesn't like their heats, and he likes the overstimulation that follows even less. But he learned to live with it, for Braxton.
Tim is aware of him moving across the bed, dragging his blanket with him. He waits for the cage of hands that will no doubt drag him into Braxton's chest. He is not wrong, not even a moment later he feels fingers closing in on him and Braxton hugs him from behind.
He puts his nose in Tim's scent gland, taking a deep breath in. He breathes Tim in, unashamed when an omegan growl of arousal leaves his mouth. Tim's entire body shivers with it.
Braxton's voice is deep when he speaks.“Fuck, did it start already?” The voice is laid with the same growl, and it echoes through their room. He licks a stripe across Tim's neck to confirm his suspicion even if he doesn't need to, not with the way his sweet peach scent fills the room. When Braxton will begin fully heating, the whole room will smell like a bakery, like someone is making spicy peach cobbler. Like at the Kent's house.
Tim buries the thought as soon as it appears. It aches too much. He will never see Kent's again, that's if they are still alive.
He can't speak, not with the heat clouding his brain, so Tim makes peace with the fact that until Braxton knots him with a toy and lifts the fog, he will only be able to communicate in whimpers. His only answer is a loud needy cry.
Braxton coos at him, like at a cute fucking baby animal. “Those pills work fast huh?” He kisses his neck and Tim starts missing his warmth when he abruptly stands up, leaving their nest. Something makes him pause at his boyfriend choice of words — pills, what pills?— but his mind immediately lets it go. Its like his brain is slippery, like someone covered it in gel.
Something is wrong.
Braxton picks him up, holding his legs and back in a bridal carry, and leans down to kiss his scrunched forehead. Tim yelps, chirping at him in question. Why would they leave the nest, the nest is right there?
“Sorry baby, it won't take long. I just hadn't wanted you to freak out on me.” He sounds remorseful, and Tim picks up a hint of stress in his scent. “I promise you are gonna like your surprise, you will love it even.”
Surprise? Tim likes surprises.
Then they walk, Tim is aware that Braxton is carrying him somewhere but not aware enough to wonder where. The rhythm of the footsteps almost lulls him back to sleep if not for the cramps that wont go away.
They go into an elevator, and Tim hisses at the bright lights. Some mobility returns to him, so he tries to roll out of Braxton's arms who just holds him tighter once he notices. He starts trashing in his arms, as much as it can be called that when his body can only spasm weakly.
“Don't try to escape baby, we are almost here.”
He stops moving after that, but it doesn't stop him from growling unhappily. The lights are still blinding him, shining right into his eyes. He can't even squint to escape them.
“Brax…Braxton.” His voice is weak, barely above whisper. It's like he's lost control over his vocal cords.
Tim doesn't know if Braxton is looking at him or not but he knows he heard him when he hears him humming in response.
“Lights.”
“What about them?”
He whines in frustration and forces himself to speak once again. The words are underlined with an anguished whimper. “Too bright.”
Braxton hums at him, barely acknowledging Tim, whose feeling of being like an owned dog get stronger. “Close your eyes then, baby. I will tell you when to open them.”
Tim does as he is ordered and for the next few minutes he feels like he is floating. He can't see, he can only touch, hear and smell Braxton. He lives in a Braxton shaped void, just as he was meant to. Tim sometimes wonders if one day his mate's greed will swallow him whole.
There's a distinct ding sound, the elevators make to announce their arrival on the requested floor. Did they went up? Only Luthor lives up and he is not home. The only other person that currently could be here is Kon and Braxton hates him. He would never take them to Kon, especially not with both of them in heat. What is he even doing? They had a perfectly good nest on their bed and Braxton made Tim abandon it.
He must have started whining again, because his mate shushes him, gently. “Almost there, Timmy. Settle down and let me handle it.”
Tim doesn't open his eyes, not yet, he won't until Braxton tells him to, but he recognizes the change in temperature, the subtle sound of a machine made to deafen a Kryptonian to the outside world. He instinctively tenses all over but the Simplex forcefully relaxes him, settles him down. Tim knows that when he opens his eyes all he is gonna see is red.
He can't panic, not with the orders, but he chokes on his breath anyway when a distant voice calls out.
Kon's voice.
“Lex? Is that you?”
Tim opens his mouth to speak, to whimper, whine, moan, anything. He hasn't seen Kon in months, he doesn't know how his best friend was doing all this time, how he is feeling. Braxton stops him, he must have seen Tim open his mouth because his heavy hand immediately clasps down on it. It makes him drop Tim a little, and he huffs with effort to keep him up. Braxton walks further into the apartment, silent even with his added weight.
He sets Tim down on something plush, sofa most likely, and leans down to brink his mouth to Tim's ear. Braxton is still holding his hand to Tim's lips and nose, it's getting hard to breathe.
“You are gonna be a good boy and not make a sound until I come and get you” The words are whispered so silently that even this close Tim has trouble understanding them. “And you can open your eyes.”
He blinks away the tears that didn't get the chance to fall and watches Braxton get up. He is not wearing anything except dark sweatpants and Tim wonders when he managed to put them on. He can see that he doesn't have boxers on,though. Braxton's slick is staining the front of the material but he doesn't seem to care.
Braxton takes a few deep breathes before he takes something shiny out of one of the pants pockets. Tim can feel through their bond that he is psyching himself up to do something, he is nervous. He can't purr to calm his mate down so instead Tim takes him by the hand and caresses him with his thumb. Braxton looks over at him and something steels in his expression. The bond is filled with nothing but love now, all stress gone.
Braxton squeezes Tim's hand reassuringly, bring it up to kiss his knuckles. And then he leaves, stalks farther into the apartment, in the direction of the bedroom. He looks like a hunter.
When he disappears from Tim's line of sight the world gets unbearably silent, a storm waiting to happen. The heat gets hard to ignore, Tim can literally feel how empty his cunt is, can almost taste the want on his tongue. He wants to be back in his nest, downstairs with Braxton. He can't see Kon right now, not like this, not when he is being a pathetic needy omega.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
The sound startles Tim but not as badly as the sounds of fighting that follow. Kon is screaming, he can also hear Braxton growling. He jumps to his feet and starts running in their direction. The order was not to make a sound, Braxton didn't tell him to stay there sitting. How could Tim stay and do nothing, his mate could be getting hurt.
When he gets there, runs into Kon's bedroom he doesn't know what he expected. An intruder maybe, CADMUS coming back to claim Kon, Justice League finally saving Superboy. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Braxton sitting atop a trashing Kryptonian. He has his hand around Kon's head, wrenching it back so he can't bite him. Braxton is growling, deeper than Tim ever heard him growl — it's a sound he only ever heard from omegas ready to tear out throats to protect what is theirs.
Tim spots what's in his second hand too late to intervene — a needle, sharp and long with blue liquid inside — and he can't even scream when Braxton plunges it into Kon's vulnerable, human after so many months in the red light lamps, neck and presses the liquid into his mating gland. It's the biggest exposed nerve on a human body, covered with just thin skin. Tim knows it must hurt from the way Kon stops fighting for a second before he screams like he is being murdered. He might as well be.
“Shut the fuck up, you are gonna scare Tim.”
The screams stop before Braxton even finishes the sentence. Kon's eyes widen, blood falls from his nose and trickles down his face. He starts thrashing again, writhing like a dying animal but Braxton holds him through his attempts to escape. Kon should never be this weak, he should be able to throw off his attacker with a single finger, with his TTK. But it's been too long, they both been reduced to a standard human strength, with Tim weaker than even that. Meanwhile Braxton was allowed to regain his, build up muscle — Tim always feels tiny beneath him now, and with horror he looks at Kon's form, also smaller under Braxton. He still has few inches on him but it doesn't change the fact he already lost.
Tim is rooted into place, like he grew into the floorboards when Braxton picks Kon up by his shoulders and slams him against the floor. He does it a couple times, makes him dizzy so Kon stops fighting. At some point Braxton turns him around, Kon laying on his stomach, neck and nape vulnerable.
“I won. You really are a failed alpha, loosing to an omega like this.” Braxton is cruel, his words are cruel, his laugh his cruel. Tim can see his best friend twitch, hurt and defeated.
Braxton leans down, jaw wide open, and Tim catches a glance at his fangs sliding out more from where they were hidden in his gums. A couple of drops of venom fall from their tips. That gets Tim to move, the sudden realization of what is Braxton going to do. He runs, ready to collide with his back, to try and topple him off Kon but Tim is too late. When he throws himself at Braxton, his fangs are already deep in Kon's scruffing gland on his nape.
Braxton rumbles at him, because he no doubt thinks that Tim run here to hug him, to nuzzle into him. There's no need for him to hold Kon down anymore so he reaches with one of his hands to scruff Tim. The placement is awkward, he is not able to apply good pressure but Tim's omega body yields anyway, because it recognizes it's mate. He goes limp, slides down to the floor next to Kon. They can look into each other's eyes and for the first time in months, Tim takes his best friend in.
Kon's hair is longer, the curls are messy and dirty. There are bags under his eyes, purple bruises, a testament to many sleepless nights. His skin lost the natural tan, it looks pale and ill without the sun. Kon is crying, breath catching on the silent sobs and Tim can't say whether it's from pain or from anguish. Maybe both, maybe neither. He is still beautiful, it hurts Tim too look at him. He missed him.
Braxton removes his fangs from Kon's body, sits upright on top of him, mouth coloured with blood red. He huffs a laugh when he looks down at his defeated opponent. Then he directs his gaze at Tim, smiling like he is proud, like he expects his mate to congratulate him. His eyes harden when instead he finds Tim crying, still looking at Kon.
“Don't be like that, baby.” He pats Kon on his sides, a couple of times like a wild horse that finally understood it's place. “We both knew it had to happen sooner or later. He kept challenging me for you.” Braxton smirks and his hand moves to scruff Kon's wounded nape. He can't make a sound but Tim sees him twitch in pain anyway. “You were always talking shit, how you are gonna make me hurt, how you are going to kill me. All because Tim chose me and you couldn't make peace with that. Jealous fucker. An entitled baby alpha.” His words are laced with a powerful growl and Tim is abruptly reminded that he is still in heat when he feels himself producing more slick.
Braxton sniffs the air and somehow his smiles widens, when he catches the smell of Tim's arousal in the air.
“Let's get to work, hmm? I don't know how long I have until Simplex stops working on our stud. We will not get a second chance when Connie tattles on us to his daddy.”