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.
Jack grunted as he wiggled in his chair, trying to squeeze his wrists out of the ropes that bound them together, but just when he was starting to dislodge his broad hand from the tight bind the ropes suddenly tightened. Jack gasped at the chafe, goosebumps prickling along his flesh as he suddenly felt warm fingers slid up his restrained forearms.
“Ah ah, sweetheart, can’t have you escaping just yet,” came a voice over his shoulder, warm and acidic as it tickled against the shell of his ear. Jack grunted angrily, trying to catch a glimpse of his captor only to have the back of the chair hoisted effortlessly into the air, spun around, and dropped with a trembling thunk against the ground that the CEO felt in his tailbone.
He gasped in pain, disoriented from the sudden change. His features twitched from the lingering shock vibrating up his spine, eyes narrowing angrily at whoever this jerk was. However, as soon as his vision swam back into focus his jaw dropped, face slack in surprise.
Because the man standing in front of him now wasn’t some kind of bandit warlord, nor any mercenary or vault hunting scum. It wasn’t even someone from another company or a masked assassin.
Jack grunted as he wiggled in his chair, trying to squeeze his wrists out of the ropes that bound them together, but just when he was starting to dislodge his broad hand from the tight bind the ropes suddenly tightened. Jack gasped at the chafe, goosebumps prickling along his flesh as he suddenly felt warm fingers slid up his restrained forearms.
“Ah ah, sweetheart, can’t have you escaping just yet,” came a voice over his shoulder, warm and acidic as it tickled against the shell of his ear. Jack grunted angrily, trying to catch a glimpse of his captor only to have the back of the chair hoisted effortlessly into the air, spun around, and dropped with a trembling thunk against the ground that the CEO felt in his tailbone.
He gasped in pain, disoriented from the sudden change. His features twitched from the lingering shock vibrating up his spine, eyes narrowing angrily at whoever this jerk was. However, as soon as his vision swam back into focus his jaw dropped, face slack in surprise.
Because the man standing in front of him now wasn’t some kind of bandit warlord, nor any mercenary or vault hunting scum. It wasn’t even someone from another company or a masked assassin.
In retrospect, Jack had been foolish to think he was the only Jack hybrid out there.
It shouldn’t have been something that slipped his mind, considering how many copies of his DNA had been made over the years. He had a veritable army of lifeless clone bodies, grown from test tubes and corralled together like cows in the slaughterhouse—or maybe more like harvest crops stacked atop one another with nary an inch of breathing room between them.
His DNA was a pretty treasured commodity, naturally, but he also was fairly content with letting R&D play around with it in a controlled environment, morbidly fascinated with the usually feral, malformed creatures with a couple recognizable features that raged about the enclosures, slashing at the ground and snarling until Jack got bored with them and had them shot and butchered for parts. Many hybrids had gone down the tube this way, flesh and blood flushed away from their bones thanks to Jack’s transitory interest.
Whatever. He was the CEO, wasn’t he? The king of Hyperion, the paramount ruler of everything within the claws of his sharp, multi-planetary grasp. With a snap of his fingers he could bring life into the world, and again with another he could call for its gruesome destruction. And with no one to challenge his ultimate authority, he didn’t see any reason to stop this frivolity.
He’d returned to his home after one such visit to R&D, in which he’d been shown the latest abomination that the researchers had come up with. The head of the biological division had been pretty thrilled to show him their latest creation—a mostly successful mutation between Jack’s copied DNA and that of an especially badass kraggon captured from the Outlands Spur. It had certainly been a less offensive gesture than the last creation—seriously, mixing such precious DNA with a shuggarath should have been an obvious flub—and had resulted in something pretty damn intimidating. Almost as intimidating as Jack himself. Almost.
It’d had a huge, lizard-like body with a thick tail that wound about the circumference of the room nearly twice. Its chest had been broader, however, more like that of a human, and its hands bore opposable thumbs. The flesh on most of its body had been craggy and dark grayish-brown, split with pulsating cracks of orange and yellow except for the face, which had most resembled Jack’s aside from the glowing pits for eyes and the horns rising just before its ragged, patchy hairline. A tongue of lava had occasionally licked out over a lipless mouth and mismatched fangs.
It had been impressively beastly. Mount a couple of turrets on its shoulders and mass reproduce it and he’d have a pretty terrifying brigade to send charging into Sanctuary. For once, Jack hadn’t decided to have the creature destroyed and broken down to its most basic parts, instead insisting R&D keep it around and use it as a baseline to clone even more intimidating specimens. Thus, with a spring in his step and the vision of bandits and vault hunters alike being ripped apart by an army of massive craggy beasts bearing his face in his head, Jack had retreated back to his penthouse.
Immediately upon entering, however, Jack froze. His skin tingled, mouth going dry as he suddenly sensed something off about the air in his home. His comb, which had previously been laying slicked back against his hair, suddenly sprung up in alarm. His tail stiffened, fanning out behind him as he glanced about, body tensing in defense as he squinted against the darkness.
Goosebumps prickled along his arms, and his eyes widened as he noticed his breath warming in mist in front of his lips. What?
His eyes flickered over to the digital thermostat on the wall, his throat tightening as he saw the depressed temperature. Only 10 C? 10 C? He had the best thermoregulatory system on the entire space station, in this entire arm of the galaxy. There was no way that it would fail this spectacularly unless someone tampered with it.
His fingers prickled on the hilt of his gun, eyes browsing over the darkness in his penthouse, wondering if it would be better or worse deal with whatever threat was hiding there with the lights off or on. Quiet permeated the space, save for the hum of the air conditioner that was busy kicking into overdrive. Jack shivered, feeling cruelly cold to his core. The frigid temperature was distracting, messing with his brain as he drew the gun out of its holster, pointing it blindly into the darkness, ready to shoot anything that dared to move.
Paranoia wound up the column of his spine, his entire body tensed. His teeth clattered together, the bitter cold penetrating deep to the pit of his stomach. He could feel the skin around his eyes tighten as they bugged out, his breathing coming so fast and misty it began to fog his vision.
He had no time to even jump as he felt hot breath impossibly ghost against his ear before something firm and tight clasped over his mouth and he blacked out.
Jack woke up slowly, to the sound of music.
Not that Jack first identified it as music, more like a rhythmic pounding in his head, managing to sync up exactly with the throbbing pain stuffing up his sinuses. He sniffled roughly, as if trying to clear it, only to finally realize it was the bass of the music surrounding him. His eyelids fluttered, the insides of them a vibrant red, throbbing with lights blinking and flashing from outside them. A moan sprung to his lips, the lights stabbing into his eyes as he struggled to open them.
He had no idea where the fuck he was. It appeared to be some kind of room, with no doors nor windows that he could see from his position. The walls were entirely wreathed in dark red curtains from floor to ceiling, completely still and heavy despite the pounding of music and the movement he felt in the air around him.
“What the hell?” Jack growled, arms tugging against the restraints keeping them behind his back. He craned his neck, trying to look around and find some kind of landmark or visual cue that could tell him where he was. But he saw nothing but the same rusty-red curtains draped ceiling to floor all around him, the fabric swaying softly, almost dreamlike, which did a lot to disquiet the CEO further. He felt his comb on his head bristle, feathers starting to stand up in suspicion of the situation.
Jack grunted as he wiggled in his chair, trying to squeeze his wrists out of the ropes that bound them together, but just when he was starting to dislodge his broad hand from the tight bind the ropes suddenly tightened. Jack gasped at the chafe, goosebumps prickling along his flesh as he suddenly felt warm fingers slid up his restrained forearms.
“Ah ah, sweetheart, can’t have you escaping just yet,” came a voice over his shoulder, warm and acidic as it tickled against the shell of his ear. Jack grunted angrily, trying to catch a glimpse of his captor only to have the back of the chair hoisted effortlessly into the air, spun around, and dropped with a trembling thunk against the ground that the CEO felt in his tailbone.
He gasped in pain, disoriented from the sudden change. His features twitched from the lingering shock vibrating up his spine, eyes narrowing angrily at whoever this jerk was. However, as soon as his vision swam back into focus his jaw dropped, face slack in surprise.
Because the man standing in front of him now wasn’t some kind of bandit warlord, nor any mercenary or vault hunting scum. It wasn’t even someone from another company or a masked assassin.
It was Jack himself.
Well…at least somewhat.
The man in front of him definitely resembled him in certain aspects. He had the same broad, muscular body and the same prominently sculpted face, the same side-swept fringe and mismatched eyes, but there the similarities ended.
There was no pale mask bolted to his face, and his scar had shrunk from the massive mark burnt into his own face to something light and silvery on this other Jack. He was dressed differently from Jack’s incongruous layers, instead clad in a slick leather jacket, ratty jeans and boots like some kind of movie hoodlum. But clothes and skin were far from the most striking differences between this guy standing in front of him and Jack himself, and it drew his attention suddenly as it skittered and scraped along the floor before flipping up to arch over the man’s back, glistening in the changeable light.
It was a scorpion’s tail.
Unease crept through Jack’s stomach, eyes fixed on the sleek carapace of the tail as its slick black stinger curved cruelly above the man’s shoulder, nearly tickling the side of his throat, which—Jack could see now—was also emblazoned with a scorpion tattoo that presumably curled around the back of his neck.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jack growled, kicking his feet against the floor as he tried to scoot away from the approaching man, “what the hell is this?”
The scorpion’s grin only grew, and if Jack didn’t know better he would’ve sworn that those already scary fangs had grown thicker and longer, yellow-white tips curling slightly over his lower lip.
“I think you already know what this is Jack.”
“Oh yeah, right, I totally get kidnapped by some freaky mutant me and stuck in some sex dungeon, it’s just a normal Tuesday for me,” Jack snapped, his eyes fixed steadily on the scorpion, as if the intensity of his gaze would keep the man at bay. He wracked his brain, trying to put the pieces together about the scene before him.
“Was…was this Nakawaka’s fault? Did he…crap, did he mess around with my DNA behind my back? Creepy freakin’ weirdo, next time I see him I’m gonna screw his head back on so hard it’s gonna pop off,” Jack snarled, bucking against the silk ropes binding him tight against the chair. The other hybrid snorted, showing off more of those long, hooked fangs that made Jack tingle in his stomach, despite how much he tried to ignore it.
“You’re really trying too hard to make sense of this…if you’re looking for a step-by-step explanation, Jack, I’m pretty sure you’ve come to the wrong place.”
“Hey! I didn’t come here,” Jack corrected, “you kidnapped me here. You screwed with my thermostat so it would fuck with my—how the hell did you even know that anyway!”
The peacock was almost shouting at this point, pissed at the nonchalance of the scorpion, who acted as if Jack was a worthless insect instead of the imposing, badass hero that he really was.
The scorpion continued to ignore his questions as he sauntered forward towards the helplessly bound peacock. Jack gritted his teeth, a small growl brewing from his chest as he tried his best to appear intimidating, but to no avail. The scorpion bent down next to him, bracing his broad hand against his thigh as he leered in close, face mere inches from Jack’s own.
“You’re such a pretty little birdie, aren’t you?” The scorpion cooed, hand smoothing Jack’s comb back against his head, even as it bristled back up. The CEO’s lip twitched, head tossing against the palm petting him.
“Watch it. Watch it! Keep your hands offa me!” Jack jerked away, only for the scorpion’s hand to follow. Jack yelped at a sudden, sharp pain in his scalp, horror and anger filling his gut as a pair of clawed fingers brought a single feather down between his eyes, its stem tipped with blood.
“You….you son of a bitch!” Jack snarled, teeth snapping at the scorpion’s fingers as laughter rung through his ears.
“Super pretty. Aw, but don’t worry, they’ll grow back,” the scorpion twirled the feather deftly between his fingers, before tucking it behind his ear, turning his head from side to side as if to admire how it looked.
“D-Doesn’t mean you have to….frikkin’ rip it outta my skull,” Jack whined, trying to turn his face away when the scorpion leaned in even closer. Like this, he could see the sharp liner elongating the scorpion’s eyes, lids dusted with a bronze glow that fluttered underneath the warm lights. Jack tried to keep them apart, but clawed fingers seized his chin, yanking it back and crushing lips against Jack’s own.
The kiss was a violent clash of identity, unwilling prey struggling against predator as Jack’s tongue fought off the invading scorpion’s, pushing back against the strong jaw driving to consume him. His growl came out to a groan much to his horror as the scorpion’s tongue shoved up even harder against his own, pushing it towards the back of his throat as he was kissed without mercy.
Jack’s relief at the scorpion pulling away was cut short as the man dug and dragged his fangs into his lower lip. He felt the warmth of his flesh popping underneath the the teeth, a strangled croak dragging out of his throat as he yanked away from the scorpion’s mouth.
“D-Don’t bite me, you sick jerk…you tryin’ to frikkin’….poison me or something…” Jack complained, sticking out his now bleeding lower lip. The scorpion laughed, pushing close again and licking roughly over the two ragged pinpricks in the slick flesh.
“Poison you….you really are paranoid, aren’t you?”
“Hah, s’what helped me live this long.”
“Considering how stupid it makes you sometimes, I’m kind of surprised,” the scorpion snickered, licking over his fangs, “for the record, my fangs can’t poison you. If I wanted you killed, I would have already put my stinger through your heart.”
On cue, the scorpion’s tail curls under his armpit, its bulbous stinger glistening with threat as he cradled it. Jack’s eyes fixed on the needle-sharp tip, following it as it twitched in the air before him.
“K….keep that thing away from me…” Jack murmured, palms growing sweaty in his bonds, the indigo feathers on his neck bristling in an aggressive wave as the stinger inched closer, the scorpion’s grin creeping wider.
“Oh, I won’t hurt you, we still have a lot of fun in store.”
Thankfully, the stinger retreated from its threatening position, coming to rest back behind the scorpion, but Jack’s anxiety failed to fade as the man got on his knees before him. Hands pressed against his legs, holding him down against the chair as he flinched instinctively.
“What are you doing?” Jack snapped, trying to press his thighs together against the black claws scratching along the fabric of his jeans. He fought against the hybrid as he wedged his fingers in between Jack’s legs, slowly prying them apart. Jack growled, sure he wasn’t going to like where this way going. He even built up saliva in his mouth and spat downwards onto the scorpion’s face, hoping that it would cause enough of a distraction to gain the upper hand against the handsy hybrid. Unfortunately, the filthy look that the other Jack sent him as he looked up, saliva dripping down his chiseled cheek, told him it’d been in vain.
“I’m not one of your fanboys, Jackie, that’s not gonna impress me.” The scorpion dragged his thumb through the glob of spit running down the side of his face, even having the gall to wipe it off on Jack’s own jeans to the peacock’s wide-eyed anger. He patted Jack’s crotch and hummed.
“Lets hope this doesn’t disappoint.”
Jack tried to buck his hips as the scorpion’s clawed hands deftly undo his belt, unzipping his pants and tugging them halfway down Jack’s thighs by the time the first angry shout had left the peacock’s lips. Jack’s heels ground into the floor stubbornly as his pants were yanked down his legs, leaving them to pool around where his ankles were bound to the pegs of the chair.
The scorpion whistled, tilting his head as he looked down on Jack’s cock, still sheathed in his golden boxers.
“Looks promising. But I’m not going to give you what you want right away…”
“What I want,” Jack mocked, “what I want is to be let outta here.”
“Oh, sure, that’s what you say you want. But you and I both know that that’s not what you’re really looking for. After all, we’re the same person.”
“As if. You’re nothing like me, bugs-for-brains,”
“But I know what you like. And what you like is…you.”
The scorpion rose, remaining close to Jack as he began to strip off his clothes. The leather jacket came off first, whirling around in the scorpion’s fist for a moment before being tossed aside. The familiar yellow sweater comes next, the fabric peeling off of his stout stomach and broad pecs, revealing more and more tanned skin, marred with far less scars than Jack’s own body. A sleeve of tattoos crawled up the scorpion’s right arm, slightly faded skulls and bloody hearts and even unmistakeable peacock feathers mingling together up and down the terrain of his muscles.
The scorpion twirled about slowly, giving Jack the full turnaround view of his body. He rested his hands on his hips, at the horizon where his charcoal jeans met his tan flesh, feet tapping slightly to the fuzzy beat of the music.
“You’re staring.” The scorpion licked his fangs, pressing his palm just below his sternum and trailing it down until the tips of his fingers brush up against the waistband of his pants. He plays idly with the shiny bronze button, popping it open with a flick. His hips start to sway back and forth, gradually moving in a wide circle as he trails both hands back up his body, lingering on his chest for a moment before he stretches them high over his head. His abs bulge out against his belly as he started to dance, moving and billowing to the music.
Jack’s eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden strip tease. It was bizarre, watching his own tanned, muscular body on display, rocking its hips and undulating its spine in a dance that was both clumsy and undeniably erotic. His eyes followed the roll of the other hybrid’s body, dancing down to the glistening, segmented tail that curled and snapped along with his movement.
“You like this?” The scorpion purred as he straddled Jack’s lap, grinding their crotches together. He ran his hand through Jack’s hair as he balanced himself on the CEO’s thighs, fingers brushing up against the remaining stems of Jack’s comb, which bristled fearfully. The scorpion smirked, rocking his hips as his tail curled around his waist, deadly stinger again trailing under his shirt and up the bare skin of Jack’s pec. The CEO’s chest twitched, nipple suddenly standing stiff and pink as the spine tickled around the sensitive skin.
“Calm down, pumpkin, I wouldn’t sting you…there’s still a lot more we have to do together.” The scorpion pulled away his tail, quickly twitching it back around to hover arched towards his spine. Jack’s pulse beat frantically in his chest, heightened both by the cock pressing against his own and the ghost of the stinger trailing over his heart.
“My, are you worked up there, Mr. CEO? Do you need a little help out down here?” The scorpion snickered, pointing a clawed finger coyly down at the tent in Jack’s underwear. The peacock hissed, squirming in his seat as he tried to press himself into the back of the chair to get as far away from the scorpion as he could muster. He hated feeling like this, feeling helpless, feeling like—prey.
“S-Screw you—“ Jack stammered between his clenched teeth, glaring hot knives into the scorpion as his protests were ignored. The other man’s hand came to rest against the bulge in his pants, sending annoyed prickles of heat out from Jack’s belly down to his bound extremities.
“Oh, we’ll get to that, pumpkin, believe me. This is just the warm up act.” The scorpion’s hand tightened around the burgeoning tent Jack was sporting, giving the man’s length a simple squeeze that nonetheless had Jack reeling with a litany of barely-censored cursing.
“There’s no need to keep it PG, Jackie, not around me,” the scorpion purred as his hand smoothed the thin, silky fabric of Jack’s boxers around the sculpted shape of his cock, finger rubbing over the damp spot starting to darken there.
“You can say fuck if you want. Go on. Say it. Say it, because it’s what’s going to happen to you,” the scorpion hummed against Jack’s cock, his thumb rubbing in ellipses against the shaft.
“Nnnh…you…you can’t tell me what to do, you prick,” Jack snapped, shivering despite himself. The hand on his cock felt good, even as he gritted his teeth and tried to disregard the pleasure, not wanting to give the scorpion the satisfaction. But he couldn’t resist much longer, especially not when his briefs were pulled down, cock springing up against his belly. The scorpion wrapped his hand around the base of the cock, giving it a short, testing stroke. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed as he glared down at the man, a tight breath tumbling from his lips as the scorpion licked a long hot stripe up the shaft of his dick.
“S-Screw you…” Jack choked out as the scorpion continued to kiss and lick up and down his dick, eventually swallowing the tip and suckling on it as if it were the sticky tip of a popsicle. His hissed breaths through his teeth, the toes of his shoes pressing harder into the floor as his body wound in unwelcome arousal. The scorpion kept his gaze on Jack from under the hood of his sparkly eyelids, making the CEO feel too open and on display for his comfort. He tossed his head back, chin tipping upwards as the scorpion pushed the head of his cock all the way into his mouth, lips sucking around his shaft as he took Jack in all the way to the twitching base of his balls. Jack creaked his eyes open slightly as the red light above him started to flicker, raining patches of darkness down upon them before the light cut out completely, bathing the entire room in a deep, ultraviolet glow.
“W-What….what’s happening now?” Jack rasped through the rough drag of his arousal, lolling his head back to look down, only to see that the man before him had practically disappeared. The tan flesh and silvery scars had been lost in the sudden swallow of the dark, leaving only bright, neon blue marks and designs that glowed from the shifting black. Curling, barbed designs rippled on the scorpion’s muscles like moonlight glistening on the waves of the ocean, or solar flares curling off into the void of space.
Even the bastard’s tongue was luminous, glowing blue appendage lapping and curling over his member and drooling faintly glowing saliva all over the shaft as he fixed Jack with a floating, fluorescent stare.
Jack felt adrift, tied only by the burning rub of the ropes against his bare wrists as the warm mouth and the disorienting pattern of glowing shapes and eyes and tongue dropped him into a dreamy state jostled with pleasure. A groan left his lips as resistance and shame steadily drained out of him, sucked from his body like poison as the scorpion enveloped his cock in warm, tight squeeze.
“Ahh—I—“
He rutted his hips up, frantically starting to hump the other man’s mouth, focusing solely on the pleasurable feeling starting to swell in his groan.
“I—please, I—“
His core felt unbearably warm, guts clenching tightly. The scorpion’s mouth continued to pulse and lap against his cock, bringing him close to the very edge of his arousal.
“I—“
He felt something sharp prick suddenly prick against his cock, those curved, glowing fangs pressing into the tender shaft.
“Fuck!!”
Jack screamed as his body arched as much as it could, cock exploding with arousal as he filled the scorpion’s mouth with burning hot cum. The man’s hand continued to pump and squeeze around his shaft, milking him as he shot an unthinkably long load down his throat. Jack gasped as his orgasm stretched on and on, longer than any he’d ever had before. It seemed impossible and utterly drained him, body falling completely boneless and exhausted against the chair. His head lolled back, throat rough from panting as he felt the warm mouth pop sloppily off of his cock.
Jack’s consciousness swam in the haze of pleasure, dizzying him as he felt his body melt into the chair, the scintillating eyes of the scorpion fixing upon him as they rose up, glowing teeth grinning as the neon blue dripped away, gradually fading as the peacock blacked out completely.
The first think Jack noticed when he woke back up was that his arms were no longer bound.
For a moment, he flailed about in the darkness, on alert for the other man that had been touching him, that had kidnapped him, and when his fist clocked into something solid he fell upon it, wrapping both hands tight about it until he realized he had cool steel underneath his palms rather than throbbing flesh. He blinked in the darkness, trying to calm his breath as he carefully brushed his hands over the object in his palms, eventually finding and pressing the little plastic switch at the base of his nightstand lamp, which quickly flooded his penthouse bedroom in light.
He immediately dropped the lamp, standing up on his knees in bed as he pressed himself flat back against the headboard, eyes sweeping about the room for any signs of the scorpion, any suspicious looking shadows or traitorous noises. His heart hammered in his chest as he realized his clothes were perfect and undisturbed, cock tucked back into his jeans and absent of any uncomfortable, drying residue. He pulled open his waistband just to check, but crotch was clean of any old crusty cum or glowing insect saliva.
He flopped back against the pillows, brows furrowing in confusion. He tried to recall the details of what had happened to him, but they suddenly seemed far away and dreamlike, specifics starting to blend together until all he really remembered where the feelings. The tightly wound arousal. The pleasure.
The fear of being prey.
Jack shivered, despite the warmth circulating from his bedroom vents. After a moment, he grabbed his ECHO from where it was still sheathed in his pocket, quickly messaging R&D and putting the Handsome Jack Hybridization Program on hold.
Jack’s arms folded tightly over his chest, teeth set firmly in place as Rhys continues gently knocking on the door, purring carefully to the man surely inside. He hated how Rhys’ voice dropped into that soft register, so similar to how he sounded whenever he and Rhys were intimate and alone together. He should only be using that kind of voice when he was with Jack, and not waste it on a monster that probably couldn’t even comprehend something as deep as their love and loyalty for one another.
Still, he remained quiet, close-lipped on his opinions about the dangerous omega for now, as Rhys was finally able to get a response from the man locked in the room. Jack didn’t fully understand why Rhys even needed to get a response in the first place—sure, it was polite, but they owned the key to the door, and the omega was a guest, however unwanted, in their home. Could they not just walk right in?
$30/3k commission for @herkal for their killer!Jack interacting with my mob AU Rhys and Jack. We kind of created a mixed AU involving these three and they wanted me to write a scene about it 🙂 Featuring omegaverse and preheat and bondage stuff with a trans character.
Jack didn’t like having to do this.
He didn’t particularly like Rhys being around this…this man. Barely a man, in Jack’s opinion. Too far gone in the mind, poorly hardwired to deal with the realities of life and interaction with other people in a way that wasn’t violent. Sure, Jack was no stranger to violence, being a hitman, but his violence had a purpose. It was his duty to shoot and kill in order to keep Rhys safe.
But this man…this man was certainly not helping Rhys be safe. And Jack wished very deeply that his young omega boss would stop entertaining the antics of this bloodthirsty stranger.
Unfortunately, he’s dedicated his loyalty to Rhys, deferring his own decisions to his boss’s judgment, and for now Rhys has decided that he wants to keep his little “project” close to his heart.
So, for now, Jack would have to bite his own tongue and make sure that this strange omega didn’t end up harming his beloved Rhys.
He was glued to the omega’s side more tightly than he even had before whenever the pink-haired man was present, defensive over his Rhys whenever the other man got too close or tried to talk to the boss in that weird, halting way that made Jack’s skin crawl. Jack disliked everything about the other man—from his wan, nigh translucent skin, to the tepid, scratching pink hair that sprouted from his scalp, to the way he smelled, to the way Rhys had given him a nickname instead of coaxing out whatever his real name was, if he even had one.
Any moments alone with Rhys have now become even more precious to him, considering how often the strange omega tried to get between them. At the very least, Rhys had agreed to keep the man locked up in the spare room during the nights, telling Jack that at the very least Rhys was somewhat aware about the potential danger he posed. And it gave them assured moments of privacy together that Jack found himself craving throughout the day.
One night, he was laying on his back with Rhys atop him, the couple laying flush together with Jack’s knot firmly wedged inside of his lover’s body. Rhys seemed more than pleased, squirming slightly with the cock within him and the cum steadily filling up his stomach. The alpha was more than happy to cuddle, grateful for the closeness and quiet, until his lover spoke up.
“Jack…I want you to do something for me,” Rhys asked softly, nuzzling his nose into Jack’s fuzzy chest. The alpha petted down the omega’s slim back, palms sliding over his warm skin in a comforting pattern. He could feel the omega’s purrs through his spine, radiating from his core in comforting vibrations into Jack’s own body. Jack tilted his chin downwards as Rhys glanced up, raising his eyebrows at the slight worried wrinkle to Rhys’ brow.
“Yes? Is something the matter зайчик?” Jack cooed, his other hand petting back Rhys’ tousled hair as he sought to smooth out the hint of worry that had crept into his beloved’s features. It was his job to make sure his young boss was as stress-free and calm as possible, if he could help it.
Rhys bit his lip, worrying it with his perfect teeth as he locked eyes earnestly with Jack.
“I need you to do something with….with you know who.”
Despite his usually stoic exterior, displeasure flickered around Jack’s expression. He frowned, his stomach twisting slightly at the idea of having to spend any more time with the pink-haired man. If Rhys wanted to spent part of his leisure time taking care of the other omega, then that was fine, but Jack wanted to interact with him as little as possible. Hell, he had tried several times to distract Rhys from visiting where the pink haired omega was locked up in the room on the floor above them—their current, cuddling position had been a result of such impulse. He deserved Rhys time far more than this monster did, in any case.
“I…Rhys, me and the killer do not get along particularly well, do you not remember?” Jack said as gently as he could muster, fingertips gently stroking along Rhys’ scalp. He heard the omega fussing softly, shifting against his body.
“I…I know, but…he needs our help, Jack.”
“Rhys…” Jack sighed, “you don’t…you cannot possibly help everyone.”
“Yeah, I know that, but I can help this guy if I want…he needs somebody. You know that,” Rhys eyes were wide and moist as he looks up at his lover. Jack swore inwardly.
Damn that begging look.
——
Corralling the other omega ended up more difficult than Jack had initially anticipated. He had let Rhys go ahead of him, the boss softly knocking at the door and whispering coaxing words to the killer housed inside of the room.
“Dvornya? Are you in there?” Jack’s jaw twitched at the name, the butchering of his mother language spilling from his boss’s lips. In his frustration he’d often yelled or growled in Russian at the murderous omega, and to his displeasure Rhys had picked up on some of his choicer language and warped it into something affectionate towards the monster.
Jack’s arms folded tightly over his chest, teeth set firmly in place as Rhys continues gently knocking on the door, purring carefully to the man surely inside. He hated how Rhys’ voice dropped into that soft register, so similar to how he sounded whenever he and Rhys were intimate and alone together. He should only be using that kind of voice when he was with Jack, and not waste it on a monster that probably couldn’t even comprehend something as deep as their love and loyalty for one another.
Still, he remained quiet, close-lipped on his opinions about the dangerous omega for now, as Rhys was finally able to get a response from the man locked in the room. Jack didn’t fully understand why Rhys even needed to get a response in the first place—sure, it was polite, but they owned the key to the door, and the omega was a guest, however unwanted, in their home. Could they not just walk right in?
Jack’s eyes narrowed as Rhys finally brandished the silvery key that now hung on a chain about his neck, carefully unlocking the door and letting it creak open.
Jack flinched as a wave of thick scent washed over them both, thick with the markers of a desperately needy omega. Usually, such a scent meant Rhys was in dire need of some attention from his alpa, and usually Jack would be excited and immediately jumping to care for his lover, but in this case, the scent just filled him with annoyance and dread.
The pink omega looked bedraggled as he stood nervous in the light now seeping in from the main hallway, washing out his pale skin and the stringy nature of his hair. His pants were practically hanging off of his hips, and one strap of his mesh shirt was drooping over his shoulder, exposing one sunken pec. Jack’s lip curled distastefully, but he’d promised Rhys that he would do his best to take care of this omega’s need and help him get some manner of physical relief, at least until they found someone else who would agree to take care of him in that manner.
“Hey, Dvornya, it’s okay, I’m here to help you, okay? Jack’s gonna help you too. It’s gonna be okay,” Rhys soothed, standing in a relaxed position with his hands up, as if to show he wasn’t a threat. Jack made no such attempt to change his stance, glare hardening as the pink omega approached his mate like a deceptively tame animal. Jack tensed, ready to jump on the beast if he had to, remembering what had happened the very first time Rhys had been alone with this. Jack wouldn’t forget for a long time the moment he had broken into the filthy, abandoned apartment to find the murderous omega atop his scared, bound lover.
And still, still Rhys wanted to help him, had roped Jack into helping him. Literally, he thought with a bitter curl of his lip, as he looked down at the silky length of rope wrapped over his forearm.
Rhys was touching the pink omega now, hands softly caressing his face and brushing the stringy bits of hair out of his eyes. Jealousy prickled inside of Jack as he finally stepped inside of the room, grasping the door and pulling it roughly shut behind them, locking it so that the killer couldn’t try to escape from them if things went sour—though according to Jack, they already were.
“See? Its okay. We’re just here to help you through this until we can find someone else to help you more, okay?” Rhys soothed as he directed the whining pink omega back towards the bed, encouraging him to sit. Jack remained standing, though he set all the supplies he had brought with him on the nightstand—the length of rope, a silky, black blindfold, and a buckled, leathery arm binder. He caught the pink omega stealing nervous, unsure glances at the items and fought back with an intense glare, Rhys noticed, placing his hands on the pink omega’s shoulders and softly rubbing his exposed skin.
“Dvornya, hey, don’t be worried, okay? We’re not going to do anything that you don’t want to do, we just think this is….something that will help us help you with what you’re feeling, okay?” Rhys sounded so motherly, like this, reminding Jack again of how much he wanted to properly bond and mate with Rhys someday, have a couple of pups—hopefully without having to waste time caring for this psychopath.
“So,” Jack spoke up, his voice firm and flat, “how do you want to do this?”
Jack didn’t particular want this pink omega touching Rhys again, but he knew that it would be more difficult to gain the monster’s touch if Rhys was not involved. He watched his omega’s expression as Rhys thought, still absently stroking the pink omega’s shoulders as if he was comforting a child.
“I…I think it would be best if I lied down on the bed and had him on top of me….just sitting, Jack, okay?” Rhys amended, noticing the angry twitch in Jack’s lip. The alpha just barely suppressed a growl, still not liking this idea, but at this point unless he followed through with it, Rhys would end up being even more upset.
“All right. Suppose that will work,” Jack grimaced as he took a seat on the bed next to Rhys, one hand resting firmly on the omega’s back. Rhys twitched, turning his chin slightly to look behind him, glancing back at Jack for a brief moment before he was shifting, maneuvering past the pink omega, leaving a dangerous amount of space between him and Jack before Rhys laid back down against the bed. He stretched his legs out, laying completely flat as he craned his neck up, beckoning softly at the pink omega. The man hesitated, for a moment, glancing from the prone Rhys to the guarded, steely-eyed alpha that was sizing him up, almost daring him to try anything out of place—to give Jack an excuse to toss his mangy hide out once and for all. Jack watched as the pink omega carefully eased himself up, coordinated his gangly, shaking limbs all together, getting on all fours to crawl atop of Rhys. Jack’s lip twitched into an inaudible growl as the strange omega sat down gingerly on Rhys’ resting thighs, long fingers clenching nervously into the bedsheets.
Keeping a careful eye on the two omegas, Jack rose briefly to retrieve the binder, blindfold, and ropes from the nightstand, setting all the items on the bed as he sat on his knees, positioning himself carefully. He could smell the scent coming stronger off of the pink omega’s body, could see the way his spine stood out from the pale, almost translucent skin, the way his bones trembled and shook as if they were trying to poke free from his flesh. He looked like a starved dog, despite the fact that Rhys consistently invited him to dinner and left plenty of food in his room in case he got hungry. Jack didn’t see any sight or smell of food spoiling in the room, so the man must be eating, but then why was he so ghastly and thin?
“Jack?” Came Rhys’ voice from below the pink omega, calling the alpha’s attention. Jack raised a brow, peering around the killer’s body to glance at his mate, who was looking back at him with a quizzical expression.
“What?” His reply was perhaps a little heart. Rhys’ face flinched, clearly noticing, but he didn’t address it.
“Can you um….get things started? He’s, uh….well, he looks really eager…” Rhys trailed off as the pink omega’s hand rested against his stomach, drawing the attention of both Rhys and Jack, who was quick to seize the pink omega’s upper arms and pull the limbs around behind his back.
“Easy….be nice,” Rhys chastised as his hands lifted to pet at the pink omega’s thighs, easing the nervous, aroused trembling running through the man’s wan muscles. Jack’s lip curled in a grumpy frown as he dutifully set about clasping the leathery arm binder around the pink omega’s arms, sheathing them all the way up to mid-tricep. He pulled the straps deftly through the brassy buckles, clipping them snugly around the pink omega’s arms and securing them with a testing tug. He hears Rhys cooing to the man between him and Jack, but the alpha does his best to ignore them, to just focus on the task at hand.
Because that’s what it was. A task, and nothing more.
He forwent the rope, for now, not wanting to spend so much time weaving artistic patterns of rope over the omega’s body—that was something reserved for Rhys, for the young man had a desirable, flawless omega body. It was elegant, unlike the scrawny, half-staved and scarred omega that Rhys wanted Jack to care for with the hands usually reserved only for his mate.
Jack picked up the blindfold, rubbing his thick fingers over the silky fabric, reaching around to drape it about the pink omega’s eyes. He tensed as he feels the man gasp, muscles instinctively reacting to a sudden movement of someone he distrusted, waiting for Rhys to move his hands up to rub the omega’s hips, soothing him so Jack could finish binding the blindfold about his eyes.
The alpha rested his hand on the pink omega’s shoulders, vaguely staring off into space as he steeled himself for what Rhys wanted him to do next. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on Rhys’ scent, to trick himself that he’s doing this for his omega’s sake alone.
Jack’s fingers trailed down the knobby spine poking through the killer’s skin, fingers dancing at the waistband of his pants. His belt was so loose that Jack could pull his pants down his thin hips with little effort, showing off his ghost-pale ass, already glimmering softly with slick between the cheeks. He let his eyes flutter half-close, taking a deep breath, focusing on the distant scent markers of Rhys, who was pulling the pink omega’s pants down from the front and rubbing his fingers against his slit. Jack could hear the soothing coos that Rhys was making, mingling in with the roughening pants from the omega nestled between the two of them. Jack grunted as his hands smoothed down to the killer’s quivering ass, slipping one long, thick finger between his asscheeks to coat it with slick.
The pink omega let out a low warble as Jack continued to press his finger inside, focusing on the sensation of warmth and pressure around him while ignoring exactly who he was pleasuring. He forced reality from his mind, instead pretending that it was Rhys who he was fingering instead of just the man that Rhys had decided he should “help.”
The scent certainly helped—at the end of the day, aroused omegas smelled pleasantly, regardless of whether it was one you were in love with or not. Jack took a deep breath, drawing the mingled smell of Rhys and the pink omega into his lungs, his brain growing slightly dizzy, cock starting to harden in his pants as he added another finger. He spread them out inside of the pink omega, spine prickling as a pleased keen cut into the quiet of the room. He could hear Rhys softly whispering words of encouragement—to either he or the omega, who knew, but it hardly mattered as Jack leaned forward and blindly nuzzled against the killer’s shoulder, his fingers rubbing up against all the sensitive omega glands deep inside.
The pink omega shifted softly against his restraints, arms pulling slightly against the binder as he tossed his head back, stringy locks of hair falling across his forehead. Jack’s other hand reached around to clamp firmly on his hips, fingers nudging where Rhys was also gripping tightly, steadying the man between them as they pleasured him from both sides.
Jack shiverd as he felt a heavy wave of slick wash over his fingers as the pink omega shrieked, body jerking as he came into Rhys’ hand. Jack’s arms wrappred around the pink omega’s waist as he went limp, nearly slumping forward over Rhys’ body as the mob boss sat up, cooing softly as he presses reassuring kisses all over his worn face.
“Good….good boy, good dvornya…don’t worry, we’re going to take care of you…” Rhys purred, pressing a tender kiss to the side of the pink omega’s temple as he looked at Jack over his shoulder.
“Aren’t we?”
Jack’s lip still twitched, but the amiable scent of the two aroused omegas and the asking glimmer in his mate’s eyes soothed his annoyance.
TheSpaceCoyote 