Chapter Text
Conner had known that Superman would be his mate from the very first moment he’d opened his eyes. That was what he’d been made for. It's what he was. A biologically compatible, kryptonian omega. The only biologically compatible, kryptonian omega.
Conner had spent the days when he was still new learning everything he needed to know about being a good omega for his alpha. He learned cooking, cleaning, and general homemaking. He also received combat training, surveillance and stealth instruction, and a number of lessons on how to properly service his alpha’s body. He was taught how to take what he was given, and most importantly, he was taught how to submit.
Conner had been well aware from the beginning that his alpha probably wouldn't want him very much. They’d tried to make him into a female omega, as they were much more common and desirable. Some people saw male omegas as an aberration. But they’d only had Superman's genetic material to go off of, and while they’d been able to manipulate the hormones he’d been exposed to in the simulated-utero stage of his development to make him an omega, they’d failed to uncover the secrets of creating a kryptonian female from a kryptonian male.
Unfortunately, even if you ignored his biological deficiencies, he didn't bring much to the table to make up for it. He was stupid and not very good at anything, and he didn't mean to, but he somehow ended up being disobedient basically all the time. He was always needing to be punished and corrected. He almost never earned praise or rewards. He wasn't the kind of omega anyone would choose.
But Conner also knew Superman didn't have a choice. He was the only compatible mate in existence for the man, and Superman needed a compatible mate. He’d developed heightened rut syndrome, and he didn't find himself a compatible mate soon, the condition would only worsen. He could even die as a result.
Heightened rut syndrome, also known as HRS, was rare and could be caused by a number of things, including a hormonal imbalance, a failed attempt at mating during a rut, or—least commonly—a lengthy period of time spent without any exposure to compatible omegas.
Lengthy meaning years and years without exposure to omega pheromones. It was rare that anyone ever went that long without crossing paths with at least one or two omegas. Most documented cases involved individuals stranded on remote islands or kept in inhumane prison conditions involving extreme isolation. It usually took more than five years of deprivation for the condition to develop enough to become symptomatic.
Superman had gone his whole life without encountering a compatible omega. It was frankly shocking this hadn't been an issue before now— though maybe that was just further evidence of the biological differences between their species.
Heightened rut syndrome was basically exactly what it sounded like. An alpha's ruts would last longer, have more severe symptoms, and occur more frequently than was normal. As the condition progressed, symptoms could also begin to persist even after the rut had ended. Affected alphas experience feelings of agitation, increased aggression and territoriality, increased libido, and a lowered ability to control instinctive behaviors. Severe cases could also cause mild fever, persistent nausea, knots that lasted for far longer than they should, and insomnia.
Superman had been living with the syndrome for a long time before Conner’s development and training were complete and he’d finally been ready to be mated, so he hadn't been expecting the man to be overly pleasant. Normal alphas experiencing mild to moderate HRS were already unpleasant to be around. A kryptonian alpha experiencing one of the most severe cases of HRS to ever be documented would certainly be worse.
Conner knew that he wasn't what the hero wanted. As far as he was aware, the man didn't want a mate at all. But the wants of an individual would never outweigh the safety of an entire world, and Conner was the only available solution to the man’s increasing instability. He was what the hero needed, and he clearly knew that, considering that he'd finally agreed to this.
At the very least, Conner was used to not exactly being wanted, so he felt like he knew what to expect, at least to a certain extent. As he approached the home he’d been dropped off at to finally meet his alpha, he was ready for the inevitable aggression, disappointment, growling, and dominance establishment behaviors. He’d thought he was ready for whatever Superman might throw at him.
He just hadn't been expecting the second alpha.
Superman was just as large and intimidating as Connor had assumed he’d be. The sight of him—standing tall and twitching with barely suppressed aggravation and his frankly enormous hard-on already visible through his sweatpants—nearly had Conner’s knees knocking together with the intensity of his nerves.
It was also deeply disconcerting to see Superman in sweatpants and a stained t-shirt.
The second alpha was dressed similarly, but also wearing a small domino mask. He was only a little smaller than Superman and no less intimidating for it. Actually, the man was almost somehow even more intimidating than Superman, just by the nature of his coldly calculating eyes and the displeased furl of his lips as he took Conner’s form in and obviously found him wanting.
The second alpha was the one who’d opened the door, and he was standing ever so slightly in front of Superman, taking an almost protective, possessive stance that made no sense. At least, it didn’t until the man introduced himself.
“I’m Superman’s mate. You can call me Batman or sir,” he informed Conner plainly, seemingly uncaring of the way he was toppling over Conner’s entire understanding of the way the world worked and what the entire point of his existence was. It made so little sense that his first reaction was to think that if this imposing man was Superman’s mate, then everyone must be wrong about Superman being an alpha, but Conner could smell how clearly that wasn’t the case.
Superman was an alpha in rut, and the entryway reeked of it, choking out nearly all other scents. Both of the men in front of him were alphas, and apparently they were mated. Somehow. Despite both being alphas. And of different species.
That was supposed to be biologically impossible, but Conner knew better than to argue. If Batman said it and Superman didn’t disagree, then as far as Conner was concerned, it was true. Denying it would be the same as disagreeing with the man who was meant to become his alpha before the end of the night, and that was absolutely unacceptable. With that in mind he nodded obediently. “Yes, sir.” He clenched his jaw and shifted uncomfortably, letting his eyes drift submissively to the floor, taking in the hard line of the doorway still dividing him from the two standing on the other side, making it so clear that he had yet to be accepted. He could still fail, and failure was not an option.
“Good,” Batman growled, not appearing even the tiniest bit appeased by his submission. “Now, if we are going to do this, there’ll be some ground rules, and you'll have to agree to them if you want us to move forward.”
“Yes, sir,” Conner repeated, his already dry mouth somehow going even drier. He’d known there would be rules, so this didn’t change anything, but there was someone else here, and it changed everything. Superman hadn’t even spoken to him yet. Nothing was going right and he was growing increasingly less certain that his training had prepared him for this. Superman’s first words to Conner did absolutely nothing to make him feel any better.
“If you agree, I'll mate with you because I have to, but I won't be your mate,” the hero explained. The statement made no sense to Conner, though. How could two people be mated without being mates?
Batman seemed to notice his confusion, and he offered a horribly gut wrenching clarification. “Your purpose in this home would essentially be that of a medical service provider. Outside of what is required to maintain the bond and address Superman’s HRS, we will have no involvement. Obviously initially we will operate very closely, but after a bond has been established, you'll be able to do whatever you want as long as you don't make it our problem. We won't have a relationship with you and we won't tolerate any attempts to undermine our relationship.”
Conner looked at Superman, stupidly hoping he would find the man primed to disagree with Batman's awful, confusing words, only to find the man nodding in agreement, his gaze hungry and desperate in a way that could only be explained by the HRS.
What Batman had explained sounded like hell. When Conner’s training had been hard or humiliating or painful, he’d consoled himself with the thought that once he was Superman’s mate it would all be worth it. Superman was a hero, after all. He was good. Once the HRS was resolved and the man’s instincts were more in hand, Conner had thought he might even be so lucky as to occasionally receive the things his omega brain ached for. Tender, gentle touches. The contented scent of an alpha that was pleased with him. Kind words. But of course Superman could tell that Conner didn't deserve any of that. Of course he already had someone else. Someone better.
Of course Conner would continue to face the humiliation and pain of life alone. Of course he would continue to be no more than a convenient object, unwanted and existing only to solve a problem.
“Yes, sir,” Conner replied, deciding to stick to the answer that had worked so far.
There was a brief pause before Batman spoke again, his voice firm and authoritative. “We won't force you to agree to this. If you don't find the terms acceptable, you are welcome to turn around and leave. But that’s only an option until you've been bonded, and leaving will get more complicated after we’ve initiated the process, so decide carefully.”
Conner didn't understand what Batman meant by that at all. He could leave? Where would he go? Back to Cadmus and Amanda Waller? They expected him to go through with this. They wouldn't ever accept him backing out. And what did he mean by ‘find the terms acceptable?’ Of course they were acceptable. Conner had to accept everything his alpha gave, and if this was what his alpha wanted, Conner had no choice but to take it. He spent longer than he meant to trying to parse Batman’s words before arriving at what he wanted to say in return.
“I accept your terms. I… I would still like to move forward with this, if you permit it.” He was proud of the way his voice didn't shake, but that pride only lasted for a moment. It was pretty immediately wiped away by the disgust he could both see and smell on the two alphas in response to his words. They’d obviously hoped he would refuse and give them an out.
It hurt badly. Conner knew he was no catch, but to know he was so ugly and obviously worthless that just the thought of mating with him was disgusting was a deeply wounding reality check that killed some of his last foolish omega hopes.
“Fine,” Superman snarled, angry and twitching with energy he couldn't expel. “Then let’s get this over with.” With that, he turned to stomp his way further into the house, abandoning Conner and his mate in the doorway.
Batman watched the alpha's retreat with a face of deep concern and adoration, and Conner was starting to see that it was possible for the two of them to be what they’d said they were. Then Batman turned back towards him and all fondness was erased from his expression. “Alright, follow me. I'll get you ready for this.”
Conner couldn't do much else but nod, say yes, sir, and follow after his alpha's mate.
Finally crossing that threshold into the home was not the relief he’d previously thought it might be.
_____
Batman prepared him for ‘the initiation of the bonding process,’ which was one of the most clinical euphemisms for ‘getting fucked’ that Conner had ever heard. And that was saying something, given that he’d spent his entire life before today in a government run lab.
He hadn't really been sure what to expect Batman to do to make him ‘prepared,’ and he hadn't bothered with trying to guess, sure that he would inevitably fail to do so. Now, he was sure he was right to have opted not to try. He didn't think he ever could have guessed this outcome.
Conner had been stripped naked, and his arms had been bound together behind his back, forearm to forearm, keeping his elbows bent at a ninety degree angle and his arms immobile. His legs had been bent and tied calf to thigh, leaving his ankles pressed just below his butt. His thighs had then been affixed to a rope winding around his chest, keeping him compressed into a small ball of limbs, basically completely unable to move unless he wanted to really struggle and break through the ropes.
Superman had been experiencing severe territoriality. Apparently the two of them had already experimented with bringing a human omega into the bedroom, but the kryptonian had reacted negatively. That had escalated to the point that Superman hadn’t been able to tolerate outsiders in their home at all for the past three weeks. Batman did not elaborate on what exactly that negative reaction had been, but Conner also knew better than to ask questions. If he was meant to know it, he’d be told.
Apparently, they were hoping that by restraining Conner, he would appear as less of a threat, which might make his presence more tolerable to the man’s HRS heightened instincts. Conner was privately terrified over what would happen if they were wrong and Superman had another negative reaction. He wondered what had happened to the human omega they’d tried out before him. His outer self remained unchanged, even as he battled the fleeting impulse to strain against the awkward hold of the rope and break free to run.
He didn't want to learn the punishment for disobedience of that scale. It was already clear that anything Batman did or said was tantamount to an order from Superman himself, which also made it as good as law as far as Conner was concerned.
Superman had enhanced strength, so he would be good at administering punishments. Conner had no idea if Batman had any enhanced abilities, but he was already certain the man would be skilled in the art of exacting pain if he felt inclined to. Bearing that in mind, Conner didn't struggle as he was arranged face down on the center of the large bed, Batman’s cold, rough hands hauling him around with striking ease. He lay there calmly as Batman left and waited for whatever would come next.
He didn't realize he’d been expecting Superman to enter the room alone until he was surprised to hear Batman still accompanying him. He decided that he should probably give up on being surprised by anything at this point. None of his expectations seemed likely to be met at this point.
It was just so strange to see an alpha who smelled so strongly of rut pressed against another alpha the way Superman was pressed against Batman. He had his nose practically buried in the other man’s throat, like the smell of a competitor in his territory had no effect on him—even though it clearly did, as was demonstrated by the snarling growls the man was releasing on nearly every exhale and the way he was keeping Batman’s head tipped back to bare his throat submissively as he dragged him into the room with harsh, lust-riddled clumsiness.
Conner could see the way the forced submission grated on the masked alpha, and his confusion over their relationship only intensified. The way Superman was biting and licking at the man’s throat and the way Batman was moaning and grinding back against him both doing nothing to help it all make any more sense.
He could tell without being told that he wasn’t meant to interrupt this. He silently watched the pair as best as he could from his place on the bed, observing their path towards him with an odd warmth pooling low in his gut, mixing there with the sour fear he’d so far managed to keep out of his scent. Then the two arrived at the edge of the mattress, and they collapsed onto it beside him, startling a small yelp from Conner at the unexpected closeness.
The moment the sound escaped him, Superman responded with a terrifying snarl, glaring at Conner with bared teeth as he braced himself above Batman almost protectively, as though Conner was the threat to his territory rather than the enormous alpha he was pressed against. It was frightening and confusing, but it was slowly occurring to conner that if Superman’s mate was an alpha, then maybe an omega would seem like the biggest threat to have nearby during a rut.
Conner reacted to the hero’s gnashing teeth and vicious growling the only way he knew how to, baring his throat submissively and keeping his eyes lowered. His tongue crept forward in his mouth to press against his bottom lip, ensuring his teeth would be fully covered from view even if he opened his mouth, and he had to swallow back the impulse to yawn or lick his lips. His control slipped, and he could smell the fear rolling off of him just as strongly as he could smell the lust thick scent of Superman’s rut, overpowering and inescapable in such close proximity. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Superman and Batman’s noses both wrinkled in disgust when they caught wind of Conner’s scent.
Superman closed his eyes and shook his head hard before breathing out a harsh puff of air. “This isn’t going to work,” the kryptonian suddenly insisted, pulling away from the man pinned under him as if to leave.
Batman caught him by the back of the neck, using it as a brace to pull himself up closer to sitting and bringing their faces closer to one another. “No. We aren’t giving up yet.” His tone allowed for no argument. “Is it the smell?” he asked, shooting Conner a look that had something inside of him aching with shame.
Superman’s nose twitched as he nodded his head, his lips curling to once again bear his teeth when his eyes left Batman’s face to glare in Conner’s direction. “I don’t like the smell. I don’t like him seeing you like this. You’re mine, you’re only mine.” His furiously hissed words had Conner shaking. He hadn’t expected things to go this way. He’d expected it to hurt or to be scary. He knew that Superman’s HRS was advanced, and that it would weaken the man’s ability to control himself significantly. But he hadn’t expected to be viewed as a threat to an existing bond. He didn’t know how to resolve that, so he just closed his eyes, hoping that it would somehow help.
Don’t be a threat, he reminded himself, trying to stay limp despite the way his instinct had begun to scream at him to run. Don’t be a threat.
He heard the sound of Batman coaxing Superman into letting him out from under him so he could move over to grab something from the nearby drawers. Superman only barely allowed it, and Conner could hear the displeased rumbling in the man’s chest the entire time he was separated from his partner.
When Batman returned, he approached the side of the bed closest to Conner—something that Superman didn’t react pleasantly to, though Batman appeared to be ignoring that—and grabbed him by the back of the head, maneuvering him to expose the side of his neck. Conner felt him pressing something against the skin there, adhering whatever it was to him before repeating the process on the other side. Then Conner felt him sliding what could only be a blindfold of some sort over his eyes. He opened them to find his assumption proven correct. There was only darkness.
Conner’s heart began racing as the loss of visual information left him with only his hearing to discern what was happening and what he should do. He braced for more comments about the scent of his fear, only realizing what Batman had done to him. Despite his increased distress, the scent of his panic was fading. There were scent neutralizers on his neck.
That was fine. Conner understood. Sometimes the scientists had done that too, when his inability to keep his emotions in check got too annoying to deal with. Plus it always made everything feel a little less real when he couldn’t smell himself. It made it feel like everything on the inside—all the fear, hurt, and confusion—wasn’t actually real in the outside world, which was almost the same as if Conner weren’t actually real in the outside world.
“There,” Batman sighed, and Conner could feel the bed shift as the man slid back into place underneath Superman. “Is that better?”
It must have been, because Conner didn’t hear any sort of verbal answer. Instead, he listened to the sound of Superman demonstrating his agreement with a passionate kiss that quickly escalated to more. He heard the sound of moaning, then eventually of fabric tearing, then more moaning and shifting of bodies against one another. It was strange, but he eventually noticed that while he was still frightened and overwhelmed by what was happening, he also couldn’t deny the soft flickers of arousal that appeared as his mind conjured images to match what the sounds.
It got worse when Superman started talking.
The man growled and purred and cooed compliments about how good Batman looked beneath him. He whispered sweet promises and complained about how badly he wanted to fuck him. His mouth, his ass, his thighs, whatever Batman would give him. His tone oscillated wildly from demanding to pleading, and Conner could hear the sound of what must be someone’s hand working a cock hard and fast.
Eventually, the sound stopped suddenly and Superman gave a displeased whine that Batman just laughed at. “You don’t want to knot my hand, Supes,” he chided the alpha. “Not when I’ve got something so nice for you.”
Conner had spent so long being forgotten and unacknowledged that he didn’t realize he was the ‘something so nice’ Batman was referring to until the man’s hand had taken hold of the ropes wrapped around him and begun dragging him over with just as much ease as he’d moved him before. He let out another startled yelp of surprise when he was lifted up and deposited between what had to be Batman’s legs, with his face pressed against what had to be the center of the man’s chest. He jolted and gasped when he realized that he could feel the hard line of the alpha’s cock beneath him, before going completely still when the sound and motion pulled another angry, territorial growl from the kryptonian above him. A terrified sob caught in his throat, and he swallowed it down painfully, trying to keep as quiet as possible.
“Shhhh,” Conner heard Batman soothing gently, and it was obviously directed towards Superman, but he let himself pretend for a moment that it was for himself, pressing his face more firmly into the bare chest beneath him like anyone here would keep him safe. He could feel the fabric of the blindfold growing damp against his skin as tears escaped into it. “This is from me. I want you to have it. You can’t fuck me, but you can have this.” Conner twitched when he felt Batman’s hands circle around his hips to rest on his ass, pulling his thighs and cheeks apart, spreading him open for Superman’s view. His fingers teased as the edges of Conner’s folds and he felt himself blushing bright red in embarrassment. He was confident he was pink down to his shoulder blades at least. “Don’t you wanna put your cock somewhere warm and wet? Don’t you want something tight and hot milking your fat knot?”
Conner went tense at the feeling of another set of hands on his body, wrapping around his sides. He could feel Superman leaning over top of him, the man’s cock brushing against the top of his ass, thick and hot and dripping. Conner was immediately overwhelmed by the warm press of the bodies below and above him, drowning him in the scent of alpha desire, the smell heavy enough that he could taste it, leaving him wet and aching. “Wanna fuck you,” he heard Superman whisper mornfully.
The sad little plea only earned the man a chuckle from Batman. “Well you can’t. It’s this hole or nothing.” The whine of disappointment cut like a knife in Conner’s chest. He could feel how keenly he wasn’t wanted here. He couldn’t escape the fact that he was an intruder in this space. He tried to breath through the hurt as he felt Superman pulling away again, glad that he didn’t have to try to mask his scent because he knew he would have been entirely incapable.
He was then treated to the sensation of the man’s cock being tapped almost contemplatively against his entrance. “Come on, big blue,” Batman prompted, shifting his hands so he could hold Conner more firmly open for his mate. “I wanna watch you knot something made to take it.”
Superman moaned and the next thing Conner knew he was gritting his teeth against the feeling of the man's cock forcing its way inside of him, splitting him open in a way that was somehow both so similar to his training with the machines and also so incredibly different. Different because it was warm flesh and blood, but also because it was big.
Conner wasn't sure what he was thinking. He usually knew better. He was supposed to know better, but the overwhelming press and stretch of Superman’s cock had killed what little good sense he had, and he found himself lurching against the hands and ropes confining him as the urge to scramble away took the reins completely, words falling uncontrollably from his mouth as he went wide eyed and pleaded for Superman to “please wait, wait, wait, please give me a second, please wait—”
His brief loss of control was brought to a swift end by a hand locking like iron around the back of his neck, squeezing with superhumanly bruising strength and forcing Conner to go completely limp in his grasp, his words slurring then devolving to senseless whines.
The whining was brought to an equally abrupt halt by Superman’s snarled command. “Quiet,” he ordered, his voice laced with authority that had Conner’s teeth clacking together and his voice petering out into nothing. When Superman’s hand finally retreated from his neck, Conner’s instincts were smart enough to force him into a perfect, terrified stillness that was broken only by the occasional uncontrollable tremor.
For a moment, the weight of Superman’s angry attention made it hard to breathe ,and his body screamed for him to display his submission more properly, as though there was anything he could do to lower himself further at that point, when he was already fully bound and hanging limply off of the man’s cock. Thankfully, Batman stole the kryptonian’s attention away quickly, dragging him up for a passionate kiss that had Superman’s hips twitching, driving his length deeper into Conner’s silent, shaking body.
Superman’s size didn’t get any less overwhelming when he finally began to fuck Conner for real, but it did start to spark that wonderful pleasure that he sometimes managed to find during training. If he hadn’t been ordered silent, he knew he’d have been moaning like a whore as the pleasure grew with every thrust, compounded by the doubly strong and growing stronger scent of pleased, aroused alpha surrounding him, making his mind go fuzzy and soft and letting him focus on the things that felt so good, as opposed to the rest of it.
The only thing that kept pulling him out of it was the repeated realization that he couldn’t smell himself. He never noticed his own scent until it was gone.
“Is he nice and tight?” Conner heard Batman ask, panting and still hard as a rock beneath Conner’s folded up figure, his dick twitching as Superman’s forceful thrusting rocked Conner back and forth across his length, the friction of sweat slick skin had to be bringing him pleasure as well, and something deep in Conner was soothed by the thought that he was keeping both of the alphas happy. That he was being good enough for two. Then he heard Superman’s displeased rumbling at the reminder of his existence and the illusion shattered.
“Oh, come on Supes,” Batman scolded him playfully, pausing to moan and thrust up against Conner’s stomach in a show of ecstasy. “I want this to feel good. Want you to fuck him hard. Want you to knot him and paint his insides white for me, baby.”
Superman responded to the words by speeding up, now slamming himself home inside of Conner with enough force that the collision of the man’s hips with his ass stung. Conner would probably have cried out as the acceleration led the friction of the man’s cock inside of him to outpace his ability to lubricate himself, causing the pleasure knotting into a tangle in Conner’s stomach to become tainted with a burning that had him gritting his teeth and tensing to keep from accidentally flinching and earning another punishing hand on his nape.
“You going to come, Supes? For me? I wanna see it,” Batman pleaded, his own thrusting against Conner speeding up. “Want to see you bite him. Want you to bury your teeth in his neck when you knot him. Come on, baby, you can do it,” he sweet talked the now nearly feral man above the two of them, tilting Conner’s head to display his neck, attempting to coax Superman into administering the mating bite that was the whole point of this encounter, and the fact that Superman needed to be coaxed into this hurt worse that the too-fast way he was moving inside of him.
For however painful Batman’s words were, they worked. Superman’s hips began to stutter, and Conner could feel the swelling of the knot at the base of his cock beginning to catch, requiring more and more pressure to exit and enter him. Batman continued whispering filth, encouraging Superman to bite Conner up until the moment the knot locked and the kryptonian clamped his teeth around Conner’s mating gland and bit down hard enough to break skin.
The flood of endorphins that hit Conner as he was filled with the warmth of Superman’s come at the same time as the mating bond began to form was more than enough to push him into an orgasm of his own, leaving him trembling and gasping with pleasure around Superman’s cock.
When he finally drifted down from the clouds of his orgasm a few minutes later, the first thing he felt was humiliation. He knew that neither Superman nor Batman had spared even a single thought to making Conner come. They’d expended no energy attempting to bring him pleasure. Any that he took in the act was purely circumstantial. It made him feel like the kind of slut the researchers always accused him of being.
Conner didn't struggle to come up from the blissful post-mating haze surrounding him protectively. It felt heavenly, and Conner didn't know if he’d ever feel anything half as nice again. He was leaving himself vulnerable in a space where he didn't think he was particularly safe, but it wasn't like being aware of his surroundings would make him any more capable of protecting himself. And more than that, he knew that Superman's knot would probably take an extremely long time to come down thanks to the heightened rut symptoms. They’d be tied together for a while. Maybe hours. Conner was going to spend as much of that time as possible floating on a soft cloud of endorphins.
He was so far gone that he barely noticed when Superman’s teeth finally detached from his neck, the sharp flicker of pain only barely strong enough to break through the surface of his bliss, and he disregarded it with ease. He did the same with the conversation he could hear happening above his head, tuning it out. The couple hadn't wanted Conner to be all that present or involved before now, and he didn't imagine that would change anytime soon.
He was proven incorrect an indiscernible amount of time later when he felt Batman bring a hand up behind him to press gently against his asshole. The contact was so startling that Conner gave a silent jolt, jostling the man’s finger from its place and causing Superman’s knot to tug at his entrance. Conner was surprised when the finger simply returned to press against him again, rather than inflict some punishment on him for the unintended resistance.
“Can we?” Batman asked, and it took Conner longer than it should have to realize that the question was for him. “It wouldn't be within the confines of what was agreed upon. You can say no.”
Conner had no idea what Batman was talking about, and his heart immediately began to race as the pleasant fog in his head disappeared in a cold rush. He hadn't been listening, and there were always consequences for that disrespect.
“W-What?” he forced himself to ask, straining to push through the lingering effects of the quiet command and feeling more than a little humiliated that he was being addressed while he was still hanging off of Superman’s cock, clenching and twitching around it as it filled him with the man’s come. He’d gotten used to being ignored, and he wanted the easy, warm distance back.
Superman gave a frustrated sigh that had Conner tensing and waiting for correction. Instead, the man mercifully explained in a deep, hungry rumble. “I want to feel Batman fuck your tight little ass while I've got you on my knot. Can we?”
Conner could feel Batman thrusting up against him ever so slightly, still hard and leaking against his stomach. “You can say no,” the man reminded him nonsensically.
On the one hand, of course Conner could say no. Basically anyone who could speak could say no. That didn't tell him what would happen after he did so, though. And even if this were the sort of magical, fake, fairytale place where Conner could say no and not face any correction for that, he knew better than to reject the first request of his newly mated alpha, especially when that alpha seemed to hate him already.
So even though the thought of having sex with this strange alpha he hadn't been prepared for in the slightest was disquieting, and even though the thought of being stretched out on two alpha cocks—and maybe even two knots—created a cold spike of dread in his stomach, he knew better than to say no. Maybe if he was good enough and gave them both what they wanted, they’d decide they liked him at least a little bit.
It was harder to force the words out now that he was aware of the sensation of Superman’s cock throbbing in his pussy, and he was also thrown off a little by the fact that he still couldn't see, but he managed it after a moment or two. “Y-Yes. Yes, he can-n f-fuck my ass,” he agreed, stuttering and flushing bright red as he forced the filthy words from his mouth.
“See?” Superman growled hungrily at Batman. “He says it’s fine.” The man punctuated this with a tug of his knot against Conner’s rim, pulling a quiet little gasp from him. The gasp was followed by a much louder yelp when Superman proceeded to haul him into the air by the ropes still binding him so he could spin him around—still impaled on his cock and squawking at the strange sensation of it dragging inside of him—and hold him pressed face first against his chest, rather than Batman’s. The hero then shifted, dropping on his back onto the bed beside Batman, keeping Conner securely on top of him. It was such a show of strength that it left Conner a little breathless.
“Go on,” he heard Superman prompt the other alpha huskily. “Get that hole ready for you.”
Conner listened to the sound of Batman grunting a wordless reply before shifting to rest behind him. There was a quiet clicking sound and then wet, lubricated fingers were pressing against him, one being pushed insistantly enough to slide smoothly inside. Conner grit his teeth against the strange sensation, doing his best to stay quiet without the iron grip of Superman’s prior command.
Conner hadn’t had very many things in his ass before. He knew some alphas liked to fuck them. He’d known his alpha might want that from him. But it had always been a sort of peripheral concern, similar to his training regarding using his mouth. Important, but not central. Conner couldn’t have ever predicted that it would come up during his initial mating any more than he could have predicted the second alpha.
Thankfully, despite his relative inexperience with anal sex, he knew enough to bear down on Batman’s fingers and relax to make the process of opening him up easier. It was important to make that easy or to have done it himself ahead of time because an alpha could only last for so long without getting impatient, and if his inability to be prepared led to him getting hurt when his alpha fucked him, it would be his own fault.
There was no way he could have known to prepare for this, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have had time, so he was grateful that Batman seemed to be the patient sort, if the lengthy amount of time he was spending working Conner open on his fingers was any indication.
Conner was a little bit confused why the man was so invested in dragging his fingers across his prostate once he located it. Maybe he thought the way Conner reacted, twitching back against him and stifling his moans, was funny? It also had him clenching uncontrollably around Superman's knot, which the alpha clearly enjoyed if his responding groans were any indication, so maybe that was it. Regardless of the reason, his persistence was fanning the flames of Conner's not yet extinguished arousal, and he felt himself growing hard between his legs.
Superman kept up a near constant stream of dirty talk throughout the process. He moaned about how he could feel Batman’s fingers working Conner open. He rambled about how pretty Batman would look on his knot. He pleaded for the man to hurry up and fuck Conner because he wanted to feel Batman’s knot against his own. At one point, Superman’s hand came to rest gently on the back of Conner’s head and he absentmindedly played with his hair for a while. The sensation was so soothing that Conner nearly drifted off to sleep in the few scant moments of the petting, despite everything else being done to his body. Eventually, though the comfort was snatched away, and Conner was being treated to the sensation of the other alpha’s cock pushing slowly inside of him, the slick slide of the enormous amounts of lube used not doing nearly enough to soothe the intense, stinging stretch of yet another too-large cock breaking him open for the second time.
Conner gasped and curled his fingers into fists, forcing the rest of himself to stay loose and pliant, aware that tensing or fighting would only make it worse. “Fuck,” he heard Batman moan from above him. “It's so tight.”
Superman, who'd been making soft, pleased sounds as Batman entered Conner, gave a louder moan and thrust up inside of his still clenching pussy, beginning to slowly fuck him on his knot. The sensation did nothing to help Conner settle into this experience.
“I can feel you sliding in against my knot. Feels so good. It feels like you’re fucking me, come on B,” Superman began to plead as he ground himself deeper inside of Conner. “Want you to fuck me hard, please, I need it—Ahh!” His begging was cut off by a strangled moan when Batman broke and gave in to his request, thrusting forward with enough strength to sheath himself fully inside of Conner’s ass and not waiting even a moment before he was pulling right back out to do it again.
Batman’s cock inside of him made Superman’s length feel a million times bigger just by the increased pressure, and the feeling of them rubbing against one another, separated only by the thin walls inside of him, had him abruptly certain that the pair had ruined both of his holes irreparably. He couldn't tell by sensation alone which one of them was bigger; he just knew they were completely overwhelming.
The way the two men were passionately kissing above his head, running their hands over each other’s bodies and only ever touching Conner unintentionally, made it unavoidable that Conner was truly only there between them as a tool. Something to fix Superman’s condition and to provide them with a novel sexual experience to bond through. It didn't make sense for that fact to hurt so badly but Conner could scarcely breathe through the pain of it. He was grateful for it, in a way. The breathlessness at least made it easier to keep quiet.
Batman fucked differently than Superman. For one thing, his pace wasn't superhumanly fast—something Conner was inconceivably glad for. Superman’s rhythm had wavered and changed frequently as the man chased his pleasure urgently, obviously in rut. Batman’s hips moved with an almost machine like precision. Every pound of his inescapable length into Conner's overfilled body brought him closer and closer to the edge of his self control.
It hurt. His freshly mated instincts roiled with displeasure at the perceived betrayal of the newly initiated bond, his animal mind screaming that Superman had failed to protect him and defend his claim. He didn't want this, but there was no end in sight.
As the scent of arousal once again swelled around him in tandem with the steady rise of his own distress, he became aware once more of the fact that he could not smell his own emotions. This time he leaned into the sense of distance provided by that fact, pushing himself to focus on that untethered and unreal feeling that was growing and growing until he was drifting away into a wash of physical sensations, his troublesome emotions unable to reach him. It was a practiced maneuver— something he did when training got particularly unpleasant or he’d earned a particularly miserable punishment.
The self-induced daze had his erection, which had been twitching to life in response to the ceaseless friction against his prostate as Batman fucked into him, flagging between his legs, but it was more a relief than anything. His decreasing arousal made it easier to simply breathe with the thrusting and let himself be lulled by the soft rocking of his body as he was driven into over and over, the filthy words tumbling from Superman’s mouth fading into background noise.
Conner maintained that trance-like state up until the moment that he felt the thrusting begin to twinge with a new, sharper sort of pain—the swelling of the man’s knot stretching him even further as it was forced roughly in and out of his hole. A sharp gasp escaped him as the knot popped out of him—already large enough to catch but forced out anyway—before Batman was rutting forward, growling and spurred on by the words still filling the air in Superman's voice, begging him to knot Conner so that they could be tied to each other through his body.
As Batman ground down against him, Conner was struck by a flash of panic, certain that the man’s knot would break him if it were forced in at this point, and even more certain that it wouldn't fit alongside Superman’s. The wave of fear had Conner yelping and jolting forward and away as best as he could while still bound in ropes and hanging off of Superman’s knot. It was a stupid move to make—an idiotic repeat of his earlier disobedience—and Conner regretted it immediately when the attempted flight predictably activated Batman’s likely strained instincts and sent him lurching forward with a growl to lock his teeth around the nape of Conner’s neck, avoiding the mating gland while forcing him limp and pliant as he slammed his knot inside, finally leaving it to catch and switching to grinding as deep as he could rather than thrusting as he began to come, filling Conner with more of that wet warmth.
Conner wasn't sure how long Batman kept his teeth on his nape, his hips stuttering and his breath coming out in snarls as he came, but the man eventually released him in favor of kissing his mate.
Even after he was freed from his biologically enforced submission, Conner kept as still as he could. He was so stuffed full that it felt impossible, and every movement made something pull or tug inside of him. It felt like he couldn't get a full breath because his lungs couldn't expand all the way with the two cocks filling him, leaving him with no space for air or anything except their intrusion. Tears burned at his eyes and the blindfold was irritatingly wet.
The ensuing moments blurred together into a mess of sensation, sound, and aching discomfort that felt like it would never end but obviously, inevitably did.
Batman’s knot went down well before Superman's and when the man pulled his cock free it was an immeasurable relief, despite the discomfort of being left empty and leaking.
Once untied, Batman slid to the side, laying next to Superman, spending the HRS lengthened time it took for the other hero to do the same, kissing his mate tenderly and occasionally sliding a hand down to feel where the persistent knot was stretching Conner open wide, teasing the man and making him shiver with pleasure while Conner locked his jaw and stayed silent.
After another short eternity, it was finally over.
Superman pulled his cock out of Conner the very moment it was possible for him to do so without causing the two of them any pain, immediately lifting Conner off of himself and placing his bundled form down on the bed. Conner didn't pay much attention to it all as Batman instructed the man to go shower and get something to eat while he ‘handled it.’ He was far too tired to do more than lay there and breathe.
Batman’s hands were firm and clinical when he began unbinding the ropes. Conner didn't allow himself to move from the position the man left him in until Batman verbally instructed him to do so. It didn't take long before he was completely untied, the blindfold removed as well. Conner looked at Batman, who’d clothed himself at some point before tending to him, with tired eyes, forcing himself to sit up on the bed and await further instructions.
He wasn't told to shower, something he’d predicted since the mating was more likely to take if he stayed drenched in the alpha's scent and spend. He was given some of Superman’s dirty clothes to wear for that same reason before being led on shaking legs to a small, relatively barren bedroom, where he was informed he would be sleeping. Once he was left there, he wasted no time crawling into the bed closing his eyes.
He’d somewhat thought he might sleep nearby Superman—either in his bed or next to it—just to further encourage the mating to take, but he was honestly relieved to have been taken elsewhere. If he was alone, he could hold himself tightly as he shook apart. He could be a bad, awful omega who wasn't grateful for what he’d been given, who wasn't appreciative of the fact that it was more than he deserved if he was alone.
And that's exactly what he did as he laid there shaking beneath the thin blankets for hours before he eventually drifted off into dreamless sleep.