The other omega practically came alive once he was bound beneath tight straps of leather or lengths of rope, his body rendered responsive and tingling with lust as the two other men used him to their heart’s content. He made such a lovely sight that it had spurred Rhys to lavish the him in deviant presents of his own—padded handcuffs, arm-binders buckled with brass and lined with lambskin, ball-gags made of the softest silicone in a lurid magenta that matched his hair and brought out the desperate twinkle in his eyes.

@herkal commissioned me awhile back for a 1k piece of the mob boss AU AU with their pink!Jack and some bondage+fluff shenanigans. Enjoy dear! 🙂

Rhys had been lucky with explaining their specific….situation to his child so far.

It helped that Dvornya, as he’d come to be called, had been a steady fixture in their life even before Cyrus’ birth. It was easier to explain things to a child when they had already grown up around them and gotten used to their presence. Cyrus hadn’t necessarily learned that families usually consisted of just a bonded pair, and any statements to the contrary that had been made by ignorant people over his young years had never led him to question exactly why mommy and daddy had a strange, pink-haired man living intimately with them. Cyrus treated Dvornya just like a member of the family, and Rhys found it sweet how often he would find the two of them curled up on the couch, Cyrus’ little body snuggled on top of the omega’s skinny chest. He’d ended up taking more than his fair share of photos over the years. Whenever he flipped through them, he marveled at how much and how little had changed in that time—though Cyrus had grown considerably since he was a young pup, he always assumed the same position cuddled atop the pink omega, curled like a little pill bug with his head tucked underneath the man’s prominent chin.

Jack was less inclined to find the scenes charming, but by and large he did and said nothing to deter the bond between Cyrus and the other omega. Jack had loosened considerably in the years since they’d properly enveloped Dvornya into their relationship but still carried the weight of wariness in his shoulders that Rhys was convinced he would never fully shake. Rhys was inclined to blame his reluctance on biology—omegas, dependent on their alphas as they sometimes were, generally felt more receptive towards communal interactions in ways their mates couldn’t understand. Rhys had heard tell of certain subcultures comprised almost entirely of omegas—a mix of non-bonded, formerly bonded, and never bonded—raising and rearing children together in a massive pseudo-family. Rhys could comprehend such a community’s existence thanks to its omega constitution but could hardly imagine something similar happening with alphas. They tended towards the territorial, acting flighty around anyone trying to lay claim to their pup or mate, even if it was someone as low-threat as another omega.

Still, Jack seemed to at least accept Dvornya’s importance to both Rhys and Cyrus. And occasionally himself. After all, the pink omega had provided an unexpected boon to their sex life—not that he and Rhys had been particularly lacking in that department beforehand. But adding a third partner had just made things so much more versatile, and as much as the obedient, almost slavish aspects of Dvornya’s personality made him feel awkward at times, Rhys couldn’t deny that he made a damn enticing little sub when he and Jack decided to break out the cuffs and crops.

Rhys loved spoiling, and he especially loved spoiling when it crossed over with sex. Before Dvornya, he delighted in buying himself all kinds of dildos in a variety of sizes and shapes, while simultaneously splurging on sexy clothes for Jack that would really help to get Rhys’ libido running. But he hadn’t dabbled much in bondage until Dvornya had become a regular part of their sex life. The omega practically came alive once he was bound beneath tight straps of leather or lengths of rope, his body rendered responsive and tingling with lust as the two other men used him to their heart’s content. He made such a lovely sight that it had spurred Rhys to lavish the other omega in deviant presents of his own—padded handcuffs, arm-binders buckled with brass and lined with lambskin, ball-gags made of the softest silicone in a lurid magenta that matched his hair and brought out the desperate twinkle in his eyes.

Chief among Rhys’ gifts was a collar he’d bought for Dvornya fairly recently. Their old one, the one they’d been using for years, ever since Rhys had recovered enough from Cyrus’ birth to have sex again, had been well-loved but consequently worn out from sweat and friction to the point where it smelled despite all attempts at washing and had started to fray at the edges. So Rhys had ended up throwing it out and ponying up a fair amount of cash to order one custom made.

The leather was a deep, midnight black inside and out, no rough white edges to be found. Its front was adorned with a delicate design of gold sweeping up jewels of sea green and blue that sparkled even in the dim candlelight of Rhys’ bedroom where they held their sexual vigils.

Though they had, at this point, already been using it for nearly a month, the collar still smelled like freshly flayed leather. Rhys was impressed at the craftsmanship—grateful for it, too, considering how much money he’d sunk into it—and adored the look of it against Dvornya’s pale neck.

Though the life of a mob boss could be busy, and often full of stress—when your business partners could end you and your entire empire with the pull of a trigger, it could wear on the brain—Rhys still spent many an afternoon frittering the rest of the day away in the bedroom with Jack and Dvornya. Tassiter had been giving him some grief at an early morning meeting due to some nonsense about a late foreign drug shipment, and Rhys needed the distraction, so he’d led his two lovers to the bed, nodding to Jack to close and lock the door as Dvornya took his customary place kneeling on the blankets and Rhys’ opened the slim, sleek cupboard in the corner where many of their favorite toys hung.

Dvornya tilted his chin up, well-oiled from habit, giving Rhys room to lace the collar about his neck after he’d sucked an inaugural hickey upon his skin. It hung snug and slightly heavy, enough to start grounding the omega and pulling him down into the waiting calm of subspace. Rhys pet his hair and cooed at him, voice low and encouraging as he swept his hand over the back of his head and cupped his neck, right where the slight bulge of the collar pressed against the scarred bonding site.

Rhys felt a lot more relaxed after a couple good rounds of sex, leaving all three of them sweaty and flushed and covered in bite and claw marks. Both he and Dvornya ended up filled with Jack’s cum, each of them knotted once and left warm and slopping from the alpha’s potent release. And as Jack rested the two omegas had even put on a bit of a show for him, with Rhys getting between the bound omega’s knees and licking a trail from the curly bits of pink hair down to the slick coral folds, tongue diving into those wet, rosy folds as he lapped up all of his mate’s release that he could reach. Dvornya had come an addition two times against his tongue before he had started to shake involuntarily against his bonds, a sure sign that they were dancing right on the very boundary of “just enough” and “too much.” So Rhys had stopped, gently closing Dvornya’s legs back together and kissing the omega’s chafed skin as he and Jack set about undoing him from his ties. The bond-mates had ended up flanked on both sides of Dvornya, alternating between kissing him and each other before all three fell into a dreamy, post-coital snooze that lasted through the rest of the evening until Rhys’ discarded pants pocket buzzed with a text from their driver that he’d picked up Cyrus and was bringing him home.

Rush hour traffic gave them a little bit of leeway to properly clean up, though not enough for all three of them to take a shower. Dvornya seemed pretty content to snuggle himself in the bed that smelled like his partners, so Jack and Rhys scuttled off to share a shower—and another quick round of sex—together before scrubbing their bodies clean and slipping into fresh clothing. They roused Dvornya, who insisted on keeping the blankets about his shoulders like a cloak as they all moved downstairs to the living room to wait for the driver and Cyrus to return home.

The pup latched onto Rhys’ legs happily the moment he got home, sitting down with his mom to work on his coloring homework while Dvornya cuddled up on the couch and watched with a small smile.

Once schoolwork was done, Rhys and Dvornya entertained Cyrus with a brightly colored board game while Jack set about making dinner, and soon enough the rich smell of borscht and bubbling meat came wafting from the kitchen, calling the omegas and the pup in with its enticing aroma.

They all sat down to eat as Jack spooned the soup into four bowls, floating a dollop of sour cream atop the borscht as he served it alongside fat slices of toasted rye bread. Rhys was happy to indulge in his alpha’s cooking, to relax in the warmth of good food and company in the comfort of his own home.

Then Cyrus asked a question that made Rhys’ blood freeze in his veins.

“Mommy, what’s that on Dvornya’s neck?”

A bit of beets spluttered from his lips as his mouth fell open, eyes suddenly racing to where Cyrus was pointing to the pink omega’s throat There, sitting plain as day as if to mock him for not noticing it sooner, was the collar.

Dvornya squeaked, realizing it only a couple seconds after Cyrus had spoken up and Rhys had glared towards him. He slapped his hands around his neck as if he’d been strangled, dropping his spoon into his bowl. Rhys’ chair screeched as he pushed himself up from the table, hurrying to hide Dvornya’s collar from his son and play off what exactly they’d been doing.

“Haha, Cyrus, you little dear, it’s just….just a silly old game we like to play!”

“A game?” Cyrus’ eyes lit up as he watched Rhys struggle to get the collar unbuckled from around the omega’s neck. “I wanna play!”

Dvornya’s high cheekbones flushed plum red with embarrassment, a tiny squeak of French that was probably a swear spilling from his lips. Rhys flustered, his own face growing pink as his sweaty fingers fumbled with the clasp.

“N-No, you can’t play this game, but daddy can play games with you after dinner, okay? He’ll even let you play horsey!”

Jack’s lips deepened in a frown from across the table.

“Зайчик, I’m tired, I don’t—“

“Daddy will let you play horsey all you want after dinner,” Rhys hissed in warning at his mate. Cyrus cheered, seemingly placated as Rhys finally managed to get the collar off of Dvornya’s neck, hiding it underneath the table as he finally took his seat back.

But of course, he’d forgotten about the big, wet bruise he’d left on the omega’s neck before he’d put the collar on.

“Mommy, what’s that?”