Little prompt for your Dr. Tim or ABO AU, if you're interested - Tim buys a t-shirt/hoodie with the words 'eat me' printed in bold on the front. Jason and Dick maybe take him up on the offer.
Hmmmm. How about his asshole friends get it for him as a gag gift and the Alphas just take up the suggestion?
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.
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.
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.