Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With the lights dimmed to their lowest setting and the curtains drawn almost completely, the room was almost pitch black. Mixed with the heavy warmth that settled over their skin like a weighted blanket was the cloying tangle of fresh orange juice and dew-soaked earth. Their scents permeated every corner of the room, flooding down their throats as they took in breath after ragged breath.

Bernard ground his hips down into Conner’s lap, demanding and insistent. He could feel the heat of his mate’s covered cock as it dragged against his bare crotch; he felt slick gush from him in frantic anticipation.

Conner groaned, deep and pleasured in the back of his throat, as Bernard tugged at the back of his head, long fingers gripping his curls and nails scratching his scalp.

“I—“ he started, nipping at the omega’s bottom lip, “want you to—“, he shoved his tongue between  Bernard’s lips, running the appendage over his teeth, “sit on my face.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah, yeah.”

Kon chuckled, his hands moving to Bernard’s hips, slipping under his shirt and rubbing the heated skin. He pressed one last chaste kiss to the corner of his mate’s mouth before nipping at his skin all the way down to his collarbone. Bernard squirmed harder, instinctively gyrating his hips faster. Kon gasped out a hot breath onto the omega’s sensitive flesh; he felt his dick twitch, precum dribbling from its head and staining his boxers.

“Shit, Kon, come on, lie down already,” Bernard whined. His citrus scent was tangy with arousal, filling Kon’s lungs so he could think of nothing else.

He dragged Bernard’s sweatshirt over his head and flung it off the bed before he fell on his back. “There we go,” he murmured, voice husky, “I wanna be able to see your pretty tits. I can’t wait till they’re all big and swollen with milk.”

His vision was not hindered in the dim lighting, allowing him to watch as his mate flushed, redness climbing from his chest to his ears.

“You can’t say shit like that, what if the baby hears?” Bernard giggled as he climbed off of Conner’s lap and crawled up the bed to the beta’s torso. He rose to his knees once more and planted one on either side of his mate’s head.

Kon’s hands rose to the back of his thighs, his grip soft but firm as he tried to slowly bring Bernard down on him.

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure the baby doesn’t have ears yet,” Conner teased.

“Touché.” The omega smirked, sly and sexy, “How about this? This is pretty too, right?”

A growl bubbled up in Kon’s throat as he gazed at the temptation before him; Bernard’s folds were shiny with slick, his clit red and twitching, and his cock standing to not-quite attention against his stomach. Every part of him was dripping with need.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

Bernard laughed lightly even as his warm skin coloured further. He shifted forward and began lowering himself onto Kon’s eager mouth. The Kryptonian’s hands moved from his thighs to his ass, squeezing the globes appreciatively, before finally settling on his hips.

When the first swipe of Kon’s tongue came, Bernard almost pulled back, but Conner’s grip was harsher now; there was no escaping from him. He whined, sharp and desperate as his hips began moving on their own, back and forth, attempting to match the movements of Kon’s tongue.

The beta was relentless in his lapping, the taste of sex and fresh oranges flooded his mouth over and over again with every twirl of his tongue around the omega’s clit, every graze of his teeth on his inner lips. He was addicted, he had to be, because he couldn’t fathom ever stopping.

Bernard’s shaking fingers moved from the headboard down to Kon’s hair. He gripped and tugged his curls as he hunched over, Kon’s grip pulling him down further so that his tongue breached his hole, squirming and burning and oh so good.

“Kon, baby, please, I’m gonna cum, I—,” Bernard keened, and his vision blurred with tears. Kon wasn't going to let him go; his mate was determined to drink up everything that left him.

Bernard felt himself tip over the edge, the pool of warmth in his lower stomach bubbling over, when he bumped his clit harshly against Kon’s nose. The sound that left him was strange and primal; his thighs squeezed around Kon’s head as he gushed. Messy slurping sounds emanated from beneath him as Kon drank his fill.

Bernard's hole was spasming around nothing, and his clit was sensitive from overstimulation, but still Kon’s tongue worked. The omega cried, then; the twisted mix of pleasure and pain peaked, and he came again, his abdomen cramping and his neglected cock twitching and drooling.

“Kon, please, I can’t—ah!—cum anymore!” He sobbed harder, teetering over the edge of oversensitive and numb, and he couldn’t figure out which was worse.

Kon responded by lifting him off only slightly, and Bernard thought he was going to listen until he tried to get further away, and the beta gave no more leeway.

Bernard couldn’t see it in the darkness, but the entirety of the lower half of Conner’s face was glistening with a vulgar combination of cum and slick. His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips.

“I want you to squirt, Sunshine. Can you do that for me, please?”

“Fuck, you know I can’t control itttt!” He trailed off with a whine when his mate flicked clit with the tip of his tongue.

“I’ll have to do my best to make you then.” The beta said before burying his face in the omega’s cunt.

Kon drove his tongue into his mate’s tight heat immediately, twisting and curling the appendage to draw out the most sinful sounds from the omega. The beta’s hips were thrusting up futilely upwards, his cock straining against its cloth confines, sticky with the evidence of his arousal.

He pulled out his tongue slowly before sliding it back in. Again and again, he repeated this until Bernard’s breaths were ragged and the muscles of his abdomen were flexing, heralding his impending climax.

Kon drew his tongue one final time; his mate’s mournful keen morphed into a punched out-gasp as the beta wrapped his lips around his throbbing nub; it pulsed in his mouth, abused and sore.

Not even seconds later, Bernard’s final orgasm slammed into him like a truck. He squirted violently, the spray conveniently spilling into Kon’s waiting mouth. The omega shuddered through the ordeal; his muscles felt strung out, and his nerves frayed.

Conner followed suit soon after and came with a groan that went straight through Bernard’s pussy, completely untouched, in his underwear, with dribbles of his release seeping through the fabric.

Bernard strained against Conner’s grip, and the beta released him, leaving behind the imprints of his fingers on his pretty pale skin.

The omega’s knees shook as he rose. He barely had the strength to move off of Kon’s face, let alone to lie on the bed, but he managed it. He lay there panting and utterly spent as Kon sat up slowly. Despite the obscene mess that coated the lower half of his face, he was grinning, happy and satisfied.

“Thank you, Sunshine.”

“You're genuinely not human.” Bernard's voice was low and scratchy from exertion.

Kon looked over at his mate lying next to him with an arm over his face and his freckled skin still dusted pink. “What gave it away?’

“Not like that, man.” A pause, then, “Okay, exactly like that, but, seriously, wow.”

“You’re too kind, darlin’.” Kon leaned down, and their lips met in a chaste and sticky kiss. Bernard sighed into the kiss before darting his tongue out to taste himself.

“Still doesn’t taste that good, no matter what you guys say.”

Kon hummed and waggled his eyebrows, “You’ll have to keep taking out word for it.”

The Kyrptonian pulled away and climbed off the bed. Bernard turned over so he was lying on his side, “You want me to help with that?” he asked, referring to Kon’s ruined boxers.

“I’m good, hon, don’t worry.” He tugged at the waistband as if to pull it off, “Let me go clean up, I’ll be right back.”

Bernard yawned as he watched his mate head out of the room; it was late and after a long day and a, um, workout, he could feel tiredness seep beneath his skin and soften his senses.

“Let me just catch my breath a little and I’ll come join you,” he said, relaxing back onto the covers and closing his eyes.

Kon chuckled, “No need for that, you can sleep, love.”

“Nooo, just give me, like, five minutes, I swear.” Bernard protested drowsily. Kon leaned over him and brushed his hair aside to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Whatever you say, Sunshine,” Kon whispered as he pulled away. Bernard muttered intelligibly in response.

By the time Kon returned with a washed face, clean towel in hand and fresh underwear, his omega was truly dead to the world. So much for only five minutes.

He gently wiped off the mess between his mate’s legs, watching, with soft awe, as Bernard’s body twitched at his ministrations, sensitive even in sleep. When he was done, he pressed his lips to the soft flesh of the omega’s belly.

“Good night, baby,” Conner whispered.

Finally, he slipped one of his larger shirts over Bernard and lay down next to him, drawing the covers over both of them and wrapping him in his arms; he pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, murmuring “Good night, Bear,” before, at last, following his mate into the realm of unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

When he’d first moved into the apartment with his partners, Kon quickly fell into the habit of telekinetically floating almost everywhere; anything from hovering a few inches off the ground to bobbing aimlessly, close to the ceiling. He liked to think that being around constantly left him giddy and, literally, light on his feet.

Now, though, Kon’s socked feet meet the hardwood floor of Tim’s office with intention, smacking dully against the surface as he stalked towards the desk.

Tim didn’t look up from his laptop even as Kon leaned forward and close to his face, hands pressed flat against the wood.

With one hand, Kon pushed the screen forward and snapped the device closed, too fast for Tim to react but gentle enough to avoid any damage.

The alpha looked up at him, unimpressed.

“Stop it,” Kon said.

“Stop what?” Tim tilted his head innocently to one side like a cat, and Conner could see a plastic earbud sticking out of his mate’s ear as his hair shifted from the motion.

“Whatever vaguely stalker-ish thing you're doing in the name of being protective.”

Tim pursed his lips as if to physically stifle any blatant lie he wanted to tell. They stared at each other. Tim was squinting, and Conner’s eyes were wide and daring.

Tim ceded ground first, looking away with a sigh and leaning back into his chair, the leather squeaking quietly from his weight.

“I was just checking the street cameras,” he murmured.

Kon shifted back to his full height and walked around the table. He leaned back against the wood and crossed his arms over his shirt.

“And the earbuds?” he questioned skeptically.

Tim propped an elbow on the armrest of the chair, pressing his cheek to his upturned palm, “And using the listening device in his car.”

“What happened to ‘emergencies only’?”

Kon had learned fairly early in his relationship with Tim that the man needed to have at least a little leeway with privacy to have peace of mind when it came to people he cared about. It was the alpha in him, Kon figured, but mostly the Bat.

Thus, whether it was listening devices in their vehicles, periodically accessing the camera feeds of any establishment they visited, panic buttons that sent encrypted signals to him personally or other, stranger methods, Tim had his ways of monitoring them. Though for the more invasive strategies, many of which Kon was happy to be blissfully in the dark about, it was agreed that they would only be accessed during emergencies or crises.

Bernard’s folks were pieces of work, but Conner wasn’t entirely sure whether their partner's visiting his parents fell under either category.

Tim straightened up and leaned back into his seat, his eyes focused and hands steepled like he was in a mission debrief.

“You don’t know what they’re like, Kon,” his face shifted like he swallowed something bitter, “How they’re like with Bernard.”

Conner tried not to let annoyance slip into his voice as he said, “Of course I don’t. Neither of you ever wants to talk about it, and it’s not like I’ve met them.”

“It’s never been my place to talk about.”

Kon looked over to the glass cabinet on the wall, packed full of documents, folders and assorted knick-knacks. Many of the files were fake and without any real importance to either of Tim’s occupations; others were real but trivial at best. Tim kept all his important documents in secure data banks that could only be accessed by him and anyone to whom he gave express permission. Inside the cabinet was an inconspicuous trigger that was often changed, which, when pressed, slid back the wall to reveal a small armoury and an array of emergency paraphernalia.

“I’m not stupid,” the kryptonian started, eyes still far away and brows still furrowed, “I can make pretty educated guesses. I don’t need to know the details to know when he needs me, but” Kon ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, the admittance on his lips tasted sour with guilt and restrained frustration, “After all these years of being together, it feels like he doesn’t trust us enough.”

“Of course he does,” Tim said firmly, “And we have to trust him. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

Tim stood up; the sound of creaking upholstery was loud in the otherwise quiet room. He joined Kon at the desk, leaning back with his hands gripping the edge. Conner moved closer to him, and they knocked shoulders.

“My meeting his parents was a total accident,” Conner was intrigued already; the Dowd family was as close as the three of them came to an off-limits topic.

Tim continued,” It was maybe two or three months into us officially courting, and I bumped into them at a fundraiser Wayne Medical was hosting. I had no idea he’d be there. He didn’t seem surprised to see me, maybe a little nervous, but he hid it well. When I saw him with his parents, I thought he'd breeze past me entirely, ‘cause I got the impression we weren’t at the ‘meet the parents’ stage yet, but he actually introduced me as his boyfriend. Told his folks we’d met in high school and everything.”

Tim glanced at Kon from the corner of his eye. His eyes were clear, but Conner saw a bit of regret in them. His lip curled humorlessly.

“You should have seen his face. Once again, he hid it remarkably well, but I saw it; he was so fucking tense I thought he was going to crack a tooth from how set his jaw was. His eyes kept darting from his mom’s face to his dad’s. I had already gathered that they were conservative, but that reaction raised alarm bells for me. He was staring at his dad like he might bite his head off. I should have gotten him away from them.”

“As it turns out, they didn’t connect that I was Tim Drake-Wayne until much later, so they pretty much spoke to me like an intern, literally turned their noses up and everything, even when I said I was there on behalf of Wayne Enterprises.”

“They dragged him off after that, and it was like he was made of stone, rigid and blank. We didn’t speak for a few days after the party, and afterwards, he pretended like nothing weird ever happened. Getting him to even mention his folks was like pulling teeth. I saw them a couple of times after that, once since I became CEO—you should have seen the total one-eighty they did on me—but not since they retired.”

“I don’t get it,” Kon ran a hand through his hair, tousling his curls, “Why does he want to see them, then?”

“He’s a lot more headstrong than he looks.” Tim began, equally pensive.

Kon snorted, “That’s for sure.”

“He probably feels he owes this to them at least. That they deserve another chance.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem like it. Radio silence for six months and then this? It’s weird. I don’t like it.”

Tim leaned his head on Kon’s shoulder, and a handful of black strands fell over his eyes, “Me neither, but we have to respect it. All we can do is be there for him.”

Kon tilted his head so that it was resting against Tim’s, “Yeah.” A moment of comfortable silence, then, Tim straightened up.

“What?” Conner asked.

“He just turned off the car; he’s there.”

“That was pretty quick.”

“Yeah,” Tim met Conner’s eyes, his lips relaxed into a tense, barely-there smile. “You said we should wait at the manor, right? We'd better get going.”

“Sure, yeah. Fly there?” Kon questioned.

“It would be faster. I doubt it’s gonna be a lengthy reunion.” The alpha stood up and grabbed Kon’s hand, dragging him back around the desk and towards the door.

Kon followed easily, his feet lifting inches off the floor so that he glided with Tim’s movements.

“I hope it goes okay anyhow. Or I might have to pay a visit to the Dowds.”

“That’s not very hero-like of you, Kon-El,” Tim teased as he shoved on a pair of comfortable trainers.

Kon slipped on a pair of crocs, pink and packed with rubber charms—a gift from Kara, “Yeah, well, I bet if they weren’t already retired you’d find a way to mess with their business or something.”

“Or something,” Tim parroted cryptically. He pulled a coat over his sweater and rose smoothly to his full height. He turned to press the elevator button, but Conner beat him to it. Before he could even say a word, Kon swooped his mate into his arms. With instincts honed from years of experience on and off the field, Tim looped his arms around Conner’s neck immediately.

“We’re not even outside yet,” Tim sighed.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kon replied through a smile. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor with his telekinesis.

The chrome doors closed on his view of their apartment’s entryway, and the metal box began to descend smoothly.

“Do you know who’s around?”

“Just Cass. And maybe Duke. Damian’s coming around tonight to spend the rest of the weekend, but I doubt we’d catch him.”

“I’m guessing you’ll have some work to do downstairs.”

“There’s always work to do downstairs,” Tim replied dryly.

“Of course there is.”

They exited the elevator into a private hallway in the basement of the building. A few complicated turns later, and they emerged into the afternoon sun. Tim didn’t get out of his hold once they were out, only hiding his face in Kon’s chest on the off-chance they’d be spotted.

Kon squinted up at the sky before discreetly entering a deserted alleyway.

Kon crouched down, his hold on Tim tightening in anticipation before he sprang up and into the sky. It took him a fraction of a second to convert his leap to horizontal movement, augmenting his manoeuvring with TTK. Then, they were flying in the direction of Tim’s family home, wind whipping through their hair and condensation chilling any exposed skin.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Tim!” Conner’s frantic yell echoed from the staircase as he descended into the cave with superhuman speed.

The voice recording he had been analysing abruptly turned to static in his headset as Tim whirled in his chair, already halfway to his feet.

“We need to leave right now. He needs us.”

By the time his mate made it to his side, Tim had closed his work and was powering down the Batcomputer, fingers flying across the keyboard almost too fast to follow.

Seconds later, he was in Conner’s arms as the Kryptonian zipped out of one of the Cave’s underground entrances, wind whipping in his hair and blurring his vision.

I should have known, he couldn’t help but think to himself bitterly. He should have tried to talk him out of it, he should have insisted he went with him, he should have done something.

Kon must have felt his heart rate spike because he clutched him tighter in his grip. Tim took a small, steadying breath, his lungs expanding with air and petrichor as he centred himself, dragging his mind out of panic and into Cardinal’s collected headspace.

By the time they touched down on gravel, Tim had optimised his thinking for proper situation response.

As he jogged down the street next to Conner, he heard it; the gut-wrenching sobs that warped the voice that was undeniably Bernard’s

What did he know? Bernard was last with his parents. He had presumably vacated the premises only minutes ago. He was in severe distress, likely brought on by the encounter with said parents; possibly aggravated by pregnancy symptoms. The scent of bile is fresh; he vomited. The cadence of the crying indicates an upright position, with no hazard of choking.

Tim Drake-Wayne was not a man driven by instincts. He worked with level-headed analysis and nothing but cold, hard facts.

But, still, as his mate came into view, hunched over and wailing in raw, unfiltered pain as he could think to do was run. He ran until he was inches away from Bernard and then he fell to his knees in front of his, the impact reverberating through his body like a gunshot as he reached for the man that he loved, hauling him into his embrace and gripping him tight, fingers clutching at the fabric of his mate’s clothes as the man wept into his, shuddering and shaking and smelling like burnt rot.

Warm hands wrapped around his back, and a strong presence pressed Bernard further into his chest. Kon was wrapped around both of them like a shield, grand and steady. The beta purred, rumbly and deep, trying to soothe the omega’s distressed whimpers. It was then that Tim realised his scent had grown acrid, sweet cherrywood smoke turning into choking ash. He had to physically draw it in, counting on Conner to cover for him.

The neighbourhood was silent, thankfully. The houses were far enough apart that no one was likely to see or hear them. That was good because Tim absolutely did not have the wherewithal to turn on the Wayne charm to diffuse any awkward situations.

All he could do was rock back and forth on his knees; the rough gravel dug into his skin through the fabric of his pants, but he barely registered the sensations.

All that his mind focused on was Bernard; every whine, every shudder, every wail, every snot-clogged inhale felt like the press of a hot blade to flesh, a burning cut on his heart.

Bernard was supposed to be the calm one, the one who, despite whatever craziness he encountered, faced life with a cool and collected demeanour, easing tension and grounding them to themselves. To see him shaken to this extent felt wrong. And knowing that the reasons why sat a few feet in a house devoid of warmth made Tim’s inner alpha want to do something stupid. But he couldn’t; it wasn’t what his omega needed.

After what felt like aeons, Tim and Kon helped Bernard to his feet and led him to the car. He clung to them like he was going to fall back to his knees without their support. Kon and Tim kept making eye contact as they walked slowly to Bernard’s car. Kon’s face was tense, his brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a grim line. Tim didn’t think he looked much different.

“I’ll drive,” Tim said curtly, finishing the car keys from Bernard’s shoulder bag, “You stay with him in the back.”

Conner nodded once, scooping the omega into his arms and reaching for the door handle with TTK. It opened silently once Tim unlocked the car, and the Kryptonian lay the man in his arms gently onto the seats. Bernard was utterly silent, borderline catatonic at this point; the only sounds that left him were sniffles and hushed whimpers.

By the time Tim had seated himself in the driver’s seat, Kon was on Bernard’s other side, the omega’s head resting on his thigh, and a gentle hand carding into his hair.

Tim turned the ignition, and the engine rumbled to life. The leather of the steering wheel creaked under his white-knuckled grip. He felt frustration and anger bubbling beneath the surface—at himself, at the Dowds and even, to his shame, a little at Bernard. How could I have let it come to this?

In the rearview mirror, Conner’s eyes bore into him, concerned and questioning. He shook his head before glancing away, eyes focusing on the road as he disengaged the park on the gear shift. It’s not me you should be worrying about, right now.

He had to roll down the windows so that the smell of sour milk and rotting oranges didn’t choke them. It was going to be a long fucking drive.