Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The portal shuddered before collapsing with a wet thwump, leaving Tim Drake staggering against a moss-covered tree trunk. His breath came in ragged gasps as he scanned the unfamiliar forest—towering pines blocking most of the moonlight, the air heavy with earth and resin.

Panic clawed up his throat. He’d miscalculated the coordinates again. Stupid. Stupid! His fingers trembled against the bark, knuckles white.

He couldn’t let King Phantom see him like this. He’d hidden the signs so carefully—heat cycles weren’t something non-humans understood, especially not one from another dimension entirely! Phantom already thought him reckless, sleep-deprived, always pushing too far…

He’d lied. Tim had buried the truth beneath layers of pragmatic explanations and curated indifference. Ghosts don’t have designations, he’d reasoned when they first struck their deal. Tim’s careful questioning hadn't produced any recognition at all from Phantom. Now, curled against the tree with tremors wracking his spine, the secret felt suffocating. Would Phantom recoil? Would disgust curl his lips at the weakness, the need pouring off Tim in waves? Or worse—would there be pity?

Tim pressed his forehead against the cool moss. No. Phantom was ancient, detached. He’d probably just vanish. Leave Tim stranded mid-heat until he became interesting again. Leave, like everyone else does. The thought cut deeper than the fever burning through his veins— Bruce. Bart. Kon. Steph. Dick. In one way or another, people always abandoned him. Tim couldn't keep doing this. He wouldn't survive it.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, hot and thick as tar. Tim doubled over, a choked whine escaping before he could bite it back. No. Not now. Not here…

Frantically, he clawed at the scent patches beneath his collar—the adhesive itched against his overheated skin. They peeled away with a sticky rip. Instantly, the air flooded with the cloying sweetness of omega distress: honey and salt and desperate warmth.

He tossed the patches onto the forest floor, glaring at them like they were the cause of this mess.

A ghostly whine buzzed in the air. Another portal forming. Tim turned, stomach sinking.

High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms burst from the portal, ectoplasm crackling around his form. His eyes darted across the clearing, locking quickly on Tim’s hunched figure. “Robin!” he shouted, urgency cracking through his usual teasing tone. He landed hard, crouching a few feet away, aura sparking around his fists.

The urgency in Phantom’s voice…was that worry? Tim's inner omega purred at the thought, but he shoved it down quickly. No. Phantom was only concerned that his source of entertainment was compromised. That had to be it.

Phantom sniffed, blinked, and reared back into the air. “Whoa... you smell like a candy store! What happened? Did I miss you getting in a fight with a bee hive?”

Phantom stretched out a hand and hovered closer.

Tim flinched, scrambling backward until his spine hit the tree. The movement tore a sound from him—a high, broken keen that echoed in the stillness.

Shit!

He knows. He knows! Shame burned hotter than the fever as he curled in on himself, sliding down the trunk until he was as small as possible, fumbling to zip his hoodie higher despite the suffocating heat. Sweat plastered strands to his forehead. His voice, when he finally forced it out, was a raw whisper fraying at the edges: “I’m f-fine. Just—” Another wave of heat crested, drowning logic in a haze of primal need. His body arched off the moss, a low moan tearing free as he pressed his face into his knees. Don’t look. Don’t see. But the scent bloomed thicker now, honeyed and urgent, screaming what his pride refused to admit.

Danny faltered at the moan, his face flushing green. His hands waved between them, unsure where to go. “Are you... sick? What should I do? Robin???”

He edged closer despite Robin’s recoil, heart aching at how fragile the vigilante looked. For all Robin’s sharp cunning and stubborn pride, right now he was small, trembling, and unbearably human. Danny wanted to scoop him up, shield him, make the pain stop—but he didn’t know how. He never knew how. Not from the moment he first laid eyes on the guy, pale from overexertion and trembling with determination to find his dad. Danny tried to help. Oh, how he tried. But Robin was stubborn. Every favor had to be paid back, every gift scrutinized for traps. It drove Danny insane. Why wouldn't he just accept help, for once?!

The silence of the forest pressed in, and Danny’s core thrummed with anxious energy, sending out faint pulses of worry he couldn’t control.

Then…Robin’s head lifted from his knees, eyes glassy and unfocused.

Before Danny could think, Robin lunged forward, fingers scrabbling at his sleeve. A desperate whimper escaped as he pressed his burning cheek to Danny, body shuddering with the effort to stay upright.

Danny yelped. “Holy shit, Robin! You’re burning up!” He gathered the boy up quickly, arms cool as frost, core humming in distress. He knew his ice core would help cool Tim’s fever, even if he didn’t understand why this was happening. Holding him close, he muttered with grim determination: “Alright. I’m bringing you somewhere safe, okay? I can get you to a doctor or… or… something.”

Robin’s lashes fluttered against flushed cheeks, body instinctively curling closer despite the stillness of Danny’s chest—no heartbeat, only the hum of his core. Danny knew from experience that the sensation was off-putting to the living, but Robin didn’t pull away. Instead, he seemed to press even closer, a purr rumbling from his chest.

Wait…a purr?

As though following Danny’s train of thought, Robin’s grip on his arm tightened.

“R—” Danny cut himself off when Robin flinched, hiding his face against Danny’s shoulder.

“Pl-Please,” Robin gasped, clutching tighter. If Danny were human, he’d definitely have bruises. Robin’s gaze darted toward a thicket of ferns, eyes glazed with desperation. "Need…nest," he rasped. "Grass... soft..."

Like hell. Danny wasn’t about to leave his Robin in the grass of all things! Who knew what kind of bugs and critters were in that?  "I’ll do you one better, okay?” he promised. “C'mon." Danny opened a portal and scooped Robin up. "I’ve got a bed for you back in my haunt.”

The abrupt shift through the Infinite Realm’s swirling greens left Tim disoriented, the cold intensifying as Phantom carried him. Phantom's Keep materialized—a fortress of shifting ectoplasm and echoing stone halls. The scent here was alien: ozone and something ancient, like damp stone and forgotten storms. Tim whimpered, burying his nose in the King’s shoulder, seeking the familiar sharpness beneath the new smells.

When Phantom lowered him onto a bed draped in silvery, shimmering fabric, Tim recoiled. Too unfamiliar. Stranger’s nest. It wasn’t his. Wasn’t right. Instinct screamed louder than reason. With a ragged cry, he rolled off the bed, collapsing onto the floor.

He ignored Phantom’s startled noise. Frantic hands tore down a nearby tapestry in a cascade of ghostly threads. He dragged the cloth into a shadowed corner, panting, sweat dripping from his chin. A broken sob escaped as he piled the fabric into a rough nest, fingers trembling.

"Need... soft," he choked, the words dissolving into a high, keening whine. His scent flared—honey and salt—filling the air with raw vulnerability.

"Soft?" Phantom asked, voice high with worry. "Okay. Okay, I can do soft. Here—” Phantom flew off, returning with a pile of material that he dropped just outside the tapestry nest.

Tim’s gaze snapped to the pile, eyes wide and unfocused. He reached out.

Leather felt wrong—cold and dead. Wool was scratchy and itchy. But the fleece... soft. A shuddering breath escaped him as he snatched it, dragging the fabric close. He buried his face in its plush warmth, inhaling deeply. The scent was faintly dusty, but it held no judgment, only comfort. His trembling eased.

With clumsy urgency, he layered the fleece over the tapestry base, patting it down with unsteady hands. A low, involuntary purr rumbled in his chest—brief, startled, then cut off as shame flooded back. He curled tighter into the half-formed nest, hiding his face.

"M'fine," he mumbled into the fleece. "Just... go." But his fingers tightened on the fabric, knuckles white. The contradiction screamed louder than his words—don’t leave me.

Phantom hovered, wringing his hands in a startlingly human fidget. The king knelt cautiously just outside Tim's nest. Tim's inner omega purred to see his space respected.

"Robin? …Tim?" Phantom began, hesitant. "You’re... burning up. Feverish." He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "I don’t—I don’t know what this is. Are you hurt? Do you need... a doctor?"

Tim flinched at the word "doctor," panic cutting through the fog. No doctors. No questions! He tried to form words, to explain the heat, the need to hide before the ache became unbearable. But logic frayed in his hands like old rope.

"N-not sick," he forced out, pushing damp hair from his forehead. His skin prickled where Phantom’s cool aura reached . "It’s... cycles." He gestured weakly at himself, frustration warring with humiliation. "Omega... heats." The word tasted sour.

Tim dug deeper into the nest, pulling fleece over himself like armor. "Need... soft. Safe." His breath hitched. "Before...it gets..." He trailed off, cheeks flaming. He couldn’t make himself admit what was coming. A shudder wracked him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, curling tight into himself. "Please," he whispered, raw. "Just go and... and let me nest."

Phantom blinked, processing that fragmented explanation. Something in the ghost hummed softly, a low thrum of protect drowning out Phantom’s confusion.

Phantom scanned the rejected pile—leather, wool, silk. His gaze darted around the room, searching.  Then, with a burst of ghost-speed, he vanished, reappearing moments later with a cascade of deep blue velvet draped over his arms. Kneeling again, he pushed it slowly toward the nest’s edge. "Here," he murmured. "Try this?"

Tim’s fingers twitched. Hesitantly, he brushed a hand against the fabric. Cool, heavy, smooth. A choked sound escaped him—half sob, half sigh. He yanked the velvet close, burying his face in its folds. It smelled of ozone and stone, but the softness... yes.

Relief flooded him, loosening the knots in his shoulders. With frantic energy, Tim dragged it into the nest, layering it with the fleece, patting it down with unsteady hands. The cold floor vanished beneath softness. He sank into it, a loud purr rising in his chest—unbidden, unstoppable this time. He didn’t hide his face. Instead, he lifted his bleary eyes to the King, gratitude warring against the lingering shame. "Th-thank you," he rumbled through his purring.

Then, instinct reared its head—a sudden, desperate need for proximity. He shifted closer to Phantom’s kneeling form, one hand reaching out before he could think. He snatched it back, curling back into himself. "S-stay?" The word was barely audible.

Phantom lowered himself onto the stone floor just outside the nest’s velvet boundary. He kept his movements slow, as though afraid to startle Tim with a sudden movement.  "Okay," he whispered. He didn’t crowd, didn’t touch. Instead, he leaned against the wall beside the nest, drawing his knees up to his chest. A soft hummm came from the ghost, projecting calmcalmcalm. "I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, Tim." He watched the omega curl tighter into his nest, Tim’s frantic edge softening into exhausted surrender. “Try and get some sleep, okay?”

The hum resonated through Tim’s bones, soothing against the fever. Cocooned in velvet and fleece, the edges of panic finally dulled. Exhaustion dragged him down. His eyelids fluttered shut, his breathing evening out into soft puffs. For a few precious moments, his worry subsided.

Tim drifted.

A sudden gasp ripped Danny from his vigil. A whine—raw, animalistic—sent a jolt of alarm through his core.

Fevered fingers scrabbled at his arm, tugging clumsily. “Ph-Phantom...” Tim's voice was a broken rasp at best. He pulled weakly, urgently, trying to draw Danny into the nest with him. "C-close... please…” The words dissolved into a desperate whimper.

The desperation in Tim’s voice, the way his body arched off the velvet... Danny understood nothing about so-called heats, but he understood need. Primal, all-consuming need.

Moving with deliberate care, Danny followed him into the nest. He settled beside the boy, not crowding, but close enough for his cold aura to wash over fevered skin. Instinctively, he raised an arm—an invitation. Tim immediately burrowed against his side, pressing his flushed face into the cool fabric on Danny’s shoulder. A shuddering sigh escaped him, half-relief, half-sob.

Danny froze, acutely aware of every trembling point of contact. Tim’s heat radiated against him, a furnace against his icy core. He kept his arm raised, rigidly still, afraid any movement might shatter the fragile trust. Confusion warred with protectiveness. Slowly, he lowered his hand, letting it hover above Tim’s back.

"Is... this okay?" he whispered, the hum in his chest deepening until it travelled through Tim’s body. Anchor. Calm. Protect.

The ghostly purr lulled Tim’s frantic heartbeat. He melted further into Danny’s side, his trembling easing into faint shivers. A low answering purr rumbled from his throat—softer than before, exhausted.

The shift was subtle. Tim’s purrs slowly quieted, his breathing deepened once more into slumber. The tremors eased, replaced by the stillness of fatigue. He calmed.

Relief washed over Danny, his shoulders loosening. He kept his arm around Tim, a shield against the Keep’s vast emptiness. The heat pressed against him was still feverish, but at least Tim seemed to be resting easier this time around. Hopefully, by the next time he woke, the fever would be broken.

Weariness tugged at Danny, too. The exhaustion from the day—the worry, the fear…it was all catching up. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy. He let his head rest against the wall, gaze fixed on Tim. The rhythmic rise and fall of Tim’s chest was hypnotic. The ghostly hum in his core softened, fading almost to silence. His eyes drifted shut.

He'd close his eyes…just for a minute…

Danny woke abruptly to friction. Heat. Movement. Sharp, desperate panting gasps against his neck.

Tim wasn’t sleeping anymore. He was pressed flush against Danny’s side, hips grinding in frantic little circles against his thigh. The velvet beneath them was rumpled, kicked aside. His face was buried against Danny’s throat, breath hot and ragged, desperate whimpers spilling out with every thrust. His fingers clutched Danny’s jumpsuit, knuckles white. The scent of sex and honey hung thick in the air, cloying and overwhelming.

Danny froze, shock locking every muscle stiff. The desperation radiating from Tim was like a physical blow. His core stuttered audibly, the soothing hum cutting off.

The realization hit like a truck: Tim wasn’t just sick, he was burning alive from the inside.

Heat. Danny hadn’t wanted to equate it with the kind of thing that animals went through—thought it too primal for someone as cool and controlled as his Robin. And yet Tim’s body continued to move against him without thought, driven entirely by something primal. He pressed harder against Danny’s thigh. A high whine tore from his throat, muffled against Danny’s neck. His fingers clawed at fabric, trying to pull the ghost impossibly closer.

“P-please...” The word was a broken gasp, thick with desperation. He arched his back, seeking more contact, more friction, just more. Shame was gone, burned away by instinct. All that remained was all-consuming need. “Phantom... need...” His voice dissolved into pleading whimpers as he rutted harder, lost entirely to the heat.

Danny was frozen, a statue carved from ice and panic. Tim’s frantic movements against his leg, the raw, animal sounds tearing from his throat, the overwhelming scent flooding the air—it was sensory overload. He was adrift, completely out of his depth. What do I do? How do I fix this?  The Ghost King facade was cracked, damaged, utterly useless against this foe.  Helplessness clawed at his core. He couldn’t just leave Tim like this, whimpering and writhing in agony. He had to do something.

Hesitantly, awkwardly, Danny raised a trembling hand. His fingers brushed against Tim’s sweat-slick forehead. He tried to wipe the dampness away, hoping the cool contact might pierce the haze, might bring back some flicker of the sharp, analytical Tim he knew was there. Please, Tim, snap out of it!

But Tim only whimpered, pressing his burning face harder into Danny’s palm, chasing the chill. His purr returned, louder, vibrating through Danny’s hand and into the ghost’s chest—a piercing rumble of instinctive need. It wasn’t clarity returning; it was desperation intensifying.

Then Tim shifted. His nose pressed against Danny’s neck, just below his jawline. He inhaled sharply, deeply—a shuddering, deliberate sniff. Then he rubbed his cheek, his chin, the sides of his neck against Danny. Everywhere he rubbed left a sheen of oil that smelled of honey. 

His purr hitched, deepened into a resonant thrum that felt almost possessive. He was scenting Danny. Marking him with fevered breath and omega pheromones, seeking comfort, familiarity, safety in the ghostly skin.

Danny held his breath, every muscle locked. The intimacy was terrifying. He felt powerless and pinned not by strength, but by Tim’s raw vulnerability and Danny’s own protectiveness of his Robin. He couldn’t pull away. Couldn’t move. All he could do was lay still, offering his chilled skin as an anchor to Tim who clung and scented and purred like a drowning man clinging to driftwood. The hum in Danny’s chest was choked silent, smothered by sheer, paralyzing uncertainty. He was lost.

With a sudden, ragged gasp, Tim pushed away from Danny’s shoulder. Trembling hands flew to the omega’s sweat-soaked undershirt, fumbling with the hem.

With jolting, unsteady movements, Tim yanks up the shirt—exposing flushed skin and the sharp arch of his ribs. Tim gasped at the cool air on his overheated skin and whimpered, high and frantic, wrestling the shirt over his head and flinging it aside. His chest heaved, skin gleaming with sweat, nipples tight and pebbled from the cold. He didn’t stop there. His hands moved lower, clawing at his pants.

Danny could only watch, mind oddly blank.

Tim’s gaze, clouded with heat, flickered up to Danny’s face for a fleeting second—a silent plea—before diving back to his task. A guttural growl vibrated in his throat as he stripped with clumsy urgency, blind to everything but his current task.

Danny watched on, horrified at the scene of Tim tearing at his own clothes. The sharp detective, the stubborn vigilante—the one who argued strategy, who hid pain behind sarcasm, who summoned Ghost Kings with unearned yet awe-inspiring confidence—was gone. In his place was this writhing, desperate creature driven solely by primal urges. This imposter scared Danny more than any ghostly foe. It was Tim stripped bare, not just physically but mentally, reduced to pure, terrifying instinct. 

He needs his Tim back. The thought echoed in Danny’s numbed mind. He couldn’t navigate this. He didn’t understand the rules, the boundaries, the language of this strange biology. What was he supposed to do?

Tim’s fever-bright eyes locked onto Danny’s jumpsuit. Trembling hands lifted, reaching for Danny’s chest plate buckle. The intent was clear: strip the Ghost King, next. Merge. Claim him.

No! The denial roared through Danny’s core, shattering his paralysis. Energy surged, a wave of power radiating outward. His core growled—a deep, resonant sound that shook the very stones of the Keep, thick with warning. “Stop!” The word sliced through the pheromone-heavy air, sharp and cold as winter wind. A Command.

Tim instantly threw back his head, exposing the long, vulnerable line of his throat in submission. He stilled, chest heaving with shallow pants. A thin whine escaped him, trembling on the edge of a sob. Other than those things, the frantic need was momentarily choked off by the force of Danny’s Command and the power radiating from him.

Danny stared down at him, his own breath coming fast, the growl still rumbling in his chest. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t touched, but the Command hung heavy in the air, a barrier against the fire of Tim’s heat.

Then…Tim shuddered. He moaned. He lowered his torso and twisted away from Danny, raising his naked hips high into the air, face pressing down into the velvet nest beneath them. His whine broke into a raw, thick gasp of “Alpha!” Tim’s fingers clenched into the fabric beneath him, knuckles white. Every muscle quivered, held by an instinct older than reason. The scent of honey and sex intensified. Utterly exposed, utterly vulnerable, he offered himself completely. Presenting.

Danny stared, frozen anew. The sight was devastating. Tim, presenting like that—asshole tight and glistening with slick, small T-dick straining out of flushed folds, completely soaked and exposed. The vulnerability, the blatant offering—it struck Danny somewhere he’d never felt before. Something primal and possessive deep within his core roared. Mine! Claim him! His cock twitched in his jumpsuit, a visceral, unwelcome response. The urge surged—to pin Tim down, to bury himself in that slick heat, to mark him irrevocably as his own. It was terrifyingly strong, a dark tide threatening to drown all reason.

He choked it back. Hard. No. Tim wasn’t in control. This wasn’t consent; it was biological programming overriding the person Danny knew. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—take advantage of this vulnerability. Not when Tim was lost inside himself. The possessive roar in his core subsided into a furious, icy hum, laced with self-disgust. He needed distance. He needed to help, not succumb.

His gaze darted around the chamber, searching for something—anything—that he could offer Tim relief without crossing the line. His eyes landed on the pile of discarded nesting materials near the wall. Amongst the silk and wool, half-hidden, lay a polished obsidian rod—a decorative finial from a tapestry rod, smooth and cold. Not designed for this, but better than nothing. Better than him.

With a shaky breath, Danny raised his hand and channeled his powers. The obsidian rod floated across the room, landing beside Tim’s trembling hip. Danny didn’t dare touch him. He couldn’t risk it. “Use... use that,” Danny rasped, his voice rough, strained. He gestured vaguely, gaze fixing firmly on the stone wall above Tim’s head. “For... for what you need.” The words felt inadequate, clumsy. He rose to his feet and stepped out of the nest, his core pulsing with frantic, icy energy. “I’ll... I’ll find something better. Toys. Something to help.” He needed to escape this suffocating intimacy. He needed to breathe air not saturated with Tim’s heat and Danny’s own treacherous response.

A portal shimmered open beside him before he’d even formed the thought—an escape. He stepped toward it, back rigid. “Stay. I’ll be right back.” The Command was softer this time but still firm. He vanished into the swirling green light, leaving only the faint scent of ozone and the cold obsidian rod beside the trembling omega.

The Alpha’s Command echoed—Stay—locking Tim’s muscles in place even as Alpha’s presence vanished. The loss was immediate, visceral. The blessed chill, the grounding solidity... gone. Replaced by suffocating, fevered air and the unforgiving stone floor beneath velvet.

The stone rod lay beside him, smooth and cold, radiating a faint promise of relief to the fire inside him. But it wasn’t Alpha. It was stone. Inanimate. Unfeeling.

His Alpha abandoned him.

A sob ripped from Tim’s throat.

He collapsed forward, pressing his burning cheek into his nest, his presenting posture crumbling into a desperate fetal curl. His fingers scrabbled, not toward the rod, but toward the spot where Alpha’s ice-and-ozone scent was already fading into nothing. Gone.

“Alpha!” The cry was a keening wail, sharp with panic. “Alpha, don’t leave me!” Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. “Please... Alpha...” His voice dissolved into choked, hiccupping sobs. He buried his face in the fleece Alpha had gathered earlier, inhaling desperately for the faint, lingering scent beneath his own slick and tears. His purr returned, but fractured now—a broken noise muffled by the material. He needed his Alpha. His anchor. His. Not stone. Not emptiness. Not this void where Alpha’s presence should be.

The heat roared back, fiercer and crueler under the devastation. Tim whimpered, curling up tighter, fingers digging into his nest as though he could pull Alpha back through it. “Alpha...” The word was a ragged whisper, soaked with desperation. “My Phantom...”

Danny phased directly into his bedroom in Amity Park—a mess of textbooks, Fenton gadgets, and NASA posters. He didn’t pause. He lunged for the bottom drawer of his desk, hidden behind a stack of comics. Inside lay his stash: a small box of silicone toys—a bullet vibrator, a realistic silicone dildo, anal beads—things he’d gathered when teenaged hormones met ghostly stamina. He grabbed the box, fingers trembling. A new portal ripped open beside him. He plunged back through without hesitation.

Two minutes. He’d only been gone two minutes.

The scent hit him first—not the cloying heat-scent he’d left, but something sharp, sour. Tears. Despair. His core clenched. Tim lay collapsed sideways in the nest, no longer presenting, no longer purring. His body shook with sobs instead, face buried where Danny had been sitting. The obsidian rod lay beside him, untouched. The air was thick with honey, yes, but more so with an acrid tang of misery.

“Alpha...” Tim sobbed.

The box slipped out of Danny’s hands, clattering loudly against the stone. He didn’t hear it. He was already moving, crossing the distance between them. He dropped to his knees beside the omega, panic eclipsing caution.

“Tim!” His voice cracked. “I’m here. I didn’t leave. I’m here.”

His cold hand hovered above Tim’s trembling shoulder, not daring to touch. But the need to soothe was overwhelming. His core pulsed frantically, emitting not a growl, but a thrum of reassurance, a ghostly approximation of a purr.

“Shhh... Tim. Look at me. Please. I came back. See? I’m right here,” he begged.

Tim lifted his tear-streaked face toward Danny. A low, broken whine escaped him. “Alpha.” 

The omega crawled across the nest, ignoring the toys, ignoring everything but the solid, cool presence kneeling before him. His trembling hands clutched Danny’s jumpsuit as he hauled himself closer. He locked his arms around Danny’s waist, burying his face in the thick fabric covering Danny’s crotch.

“Alpha’s back!” Tim gasped, voice thick with new, relieved tears. “My Phantom. Alpha. Stay. Stay.”

He clung tighter, body trembling against Danny’s chill, a fevered omega burrowed into his anchor’s lap, refusing to let go. Tim’s purr immediately stuttered back to life, louder now, vibrating through his chest into Danny’s…well. His dick. The omega nuzzled him, continuing to purr.

Danny’s cock jumped at the stimulation, a reaction he ruthlessly tried to suppress. Don’t react. This isn’t Tim. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the icy hum of his core, trying to think unsexy thoughts. This wasn’t about Danny. This was Tim drowning in his biology and clinging to the only solid thing present. He can’t consent, Danny.

Slowly, carefully, Danny lifted a trembling hand. He set it gently on the crown of Tim’s mussed hair. His fingers slid carefully through the strands, trying to avoid catching on any knots, and began to pet him—slow, rhythmic strokes from crown to nape. Awkward at first, stiff, but he poured every ounce of soothing intent into the motion, matching the steady pulse of his core. He fixed his gaze on the stone wall opposite them, refusing to look down at Tim’s face in his lap or Tim’s hips grinding desperate humps further into the nest.

“Shhh,” Danny murmured, voice low and as steady as possible. “I’m staying. I promise.” He swallowed, forcing the next words past the tightness in his throat: “I... I brought things. Things that might help.” He waved vaguely toward the box he dropped just outside of the nest. “See? Toys. Better than the rod. Safer than...” He trailed off, unable to voice the alternative.

Safer than me.

He focused on the coolness of his palm against Tim’s scalp, a small anchor point. “Let me help you with them?” The question was tentative, hopeful that Tim wouldn’t take it as another rejection.

The deep purr vibrating from Tim’s chest intensified. Danny perked up. Had he heard? Did he understand?

Tim shifted. His eyes opened half-mast, pupils blown and glazed over with heat.

Then he opened his mouth.

Danny flinched as a tongue snuck out to lave against Danny’s bulge 

The floodgates opened—Tim started pressing open-mouthed kisses against him, breathing hot air that made Danny jump, nuzzled firmly against the bulge in his jumpsuit, tongue flicking to trace the seam. His purr deepened, vibrating directly into Danny’s cock, coaxing, demanding. Every whimper and pulse of the purr was a wordless plea: Yours. Need you. Respond. The toys on the floor might as well have been dust. Only Danny mattered. Only Danny’s dick.

A jolt of panic tore through Danny’s core. He tore his hands away from Tim’s hair, afraid of accidentally hurting him by gripping something too hard. But that just left Tim open to continue nuzzling, kissing, purring against Danny’s increasingly fraying willpower.

What was Danny supposed to do? Talking was apparently useless—Tim wasn’t hearing him; he was lost to instinct. The toys wouldn’t help unless Danny physically intervened.

Ancients, I have to do this. The thought was terrifying, but the alternative—Tim escalating further, or Danny losing control—was worse. Ah, fuck. Please forgive me for this, Tim!

Danny leaned down, thankful for his ghostly biology making it less painful and awkward, and pressed his cool cheek against Tim’s fevered head. He purposefully deepened the resonant hum of his core, pouring soothing energy into the sound:

Calm–safe–I’m-here–not-alone

At the same time, he carefully set his hands on Tim’s shoulders. Gently, firmly, he applied pressure, urging Tim off his lap.

Tim whimpered, purr stuttering.

“Shhh, shhh, easy there,” Danny crooned with forced calm. He kept nudging him up and away. “Come on, let’s lay down. Soft nest. Safe nest. Away from my dick. Yes, yep. Good job, buddy.” He kept constant contact with the omega—cheek to head, hands guiding—as he eased Tim down onto his back amidst the velvet and fleece.

Tim resisted weakly, it was half-hearted at best. He leaned heavily into Danny’s points of contact, purrs kicking up into a croon.

“Good boy, Tim,” Danny breathed.

He shifted carefully to kneel beside Tim’s parted legs, keeping their points of contact only forehead-to-crown and hands-to-shoulders. His core crooned back at Tim safe–I’m-here–care.

Tim settled, only whining a little.

Relieved, Danny took the moment to release one shoulder and search blindly for a corner of the fleece blanket and pull it up, draping it loosely over Tim’s torso. He hoped it would feel comforting and not restrictive. (Because the whole thing was mostly for Danny’s sake. He felt way too overdressed seeing Tim naked and flushed the way he was.)

Tim didn’t seem to care. He was a lean, mean, little purring machine.

Danny moved his head just enough to see the box of sex toys. He summoned his powers, dragged the box close, and considered his options. Quickly.

His fingers hesitantly closed around the dildo.

He held it up slightly, hoping Tim was looking but unable to move enough to check. “See?” he whispered, voice strained but gentle. “This is for you.”

Tim whined at Danny’s voice, nuzzled up into him, but didn’t do much else to acknowledge what Danny said.

Danny took a deep, steadying breath. Okay, then. Danny would have to show Tim why this was the best option. And once Danny convinced him, he could take over pleasuring himself.

…Hopefully.

With his free hand, Danny nudged Tim’s thighs further apart, sending a waft of sweet honey scent into the air. Tim crooned, raising his hips and nuzzling more into Danny’s face. He licked a hot, wet stripe up Danny’s cheek. “Alpha.”

Danny’s hand trembled as he brought the cool tip of the dildo toward Tim’s folds. “Alright… this will be cold,” he warned, muffled by hair.

Tim’s breath hitched at the first touch of silicone. A low whine escaped. His hips jerked upwards, pressing harder, legs falling open wider. His purr paused then immediately surged back even louder, trembling through his whole body.

“Alpha,” he breathed, thick with want. “Yes!”

Tim’s movements, his resonant purr, the thick scent of slick—it was good as confirmation. Thank the Ancients. Tim was accepting the toy so far, as long as Danny was holding it for him. Relief warred against Danny’s own aching arousal, but he focused entirely on Tim, shutting out his own response.

Slightly awkward from the angle and keeping his eyes firmly away from Tim’s sex, Danny shifted the toy. He didn't push in yet. Instead, he rubbed the smooth, rounded tip firmly around Tim’s slick entrance, coating the silicone thoroughly.

Tim gasped, hips lifting higher, grinding up against the pressure.

Danny played the tip deliberately over Tim’s folds—tracing edges, pressing gently around the swollen T-dick. Tim cried out, sharp and needy, back arching off the nest.

Danny’s own cock throbbed painfully beneath his suit, balls tight. He wanted. The urge to replace the toy with his own hand, his own hardness, was a physical ache. But no. This is about Tim, not Danny.

He maintained the firm, rhythmic rubbing, spreading slick generously over the toy and Tim’s thighs. He paid attention to Tim’s reactions—the desperate rocking of hips, the moans and cries, the wet slurping sounds. When Tim was whining desperately, hands clutched into claws digging into Danny’s arms, legs trembling with effort, Danny finally applied pressure to Tim’s slit.

Tim’s pussy practically swallowed the dildo whole, it glided in so fast.

Tim jerked up with a gasp before moaning, his body sinking back down with a shuddering sigh of relief. Danny hid his face further into Tim’s hair, jaw clenched, as he slowly rocked the toy deeper.

Danny’s own need throbbed, ignored. This was Tim’s relief. That was enough.

Tim instinctively matched the rhythm Danny was setting, rocking up to meet each thrust. He held onto Danny’s free arm—clutching it to himself, really, trembling and panting. His purr echoed the deep pleasure thrumming through him.

Danny held his breath as the toy sank that final inch, Tim’s tight heat swallowing the silicone completely. He paused, letting Tim adjust, able to feel the clench of the omega’s inner muscles all the way from where Danny held the shaft of the toy. It was dizzying. Intoxicating.

Tim’s purr filled the room, a sound of pure bliss. Good. He’s okay. Danny forced himself to relax.

Then Tim started rocking again. Small, desperate movements, grinding against the base of the toy. He whined, pleading, hips lifting. Danny understood.

Danny withdrew the toy slowly, almost completely, letting Tim feel the head tugging at his entrance. Then he thrust it back inside. Tim cried out, sharp and blissful, arching his back, almost dislodging Danny’s head still hiding in his hair.

Danny started up a rhythm, his own cock throbbing in time with each deep stroke as Tim matched him thrust for thrust. He adjusted the angle slightly, pressing upwards, seeking that spot that would unravel Tim. Tim’s cries turned ragged. Bingo. His grip on Danny’s arm turned bruising, slick sounds and moans filling the air. Danny focused on the rhythm: deep, steady thrusts, Tim’s desperate rocking, the resonant purr punctuated by gasps. He poured everything into the motion—soothing intent, cool relief, the desperate hope this would be enough to ease the omega trembling beneath his hands. He didn’t dare look. He didn’t dare stop. Tim needed this. Danny would provide it. Anything. Everything. Whatever it took.

“Alpha!” Tim’s hips slammed upwards, meeting Danny’s thrusts with frantic abandon, wetness gushing and slicking Danny’s hand and making the thrusts sloppy. Tim’s purr cracked into gasping cries. “Knot me, Alpha!”

Not me? Danny frowned. Not me what?

Tim bucked against the toy, movements turning jerky and desperate. The sudden smell of salt forced Danny to jerk away from Tim’s hair, watching wide-eyed at tears spilling over Tim’s flushed cheeks—tears of frustration, of unbearable, unmet need.

“Please... Alpha...!” Tim arched off the nest, body trembling with the force of his demand, cries breaking into sobs as he continued to thrust his hips. “Please knot me!”

The plea hit Danny like a blow. Knot him?

Danny froze, toy buried mid-thrust, only peripherally noticing Tim’s continued movements against him.

What was a knot? Panic flared cold in his core. The word meant nothing to him. Tim’s tear-streaked face, the frantic clawing, the keening—it was pure agony. He needed it, whatever it was. A knot—how could Danny get Tim something when he didn’t even know what it was???

Danny thought back on the little he knew of animals in heat. Did they have—

Suddenly, a memory surfaced: him as a kid, watching a documentary of the wolves of Yellowstone National Park. The pack leader’s daughter was caught with a lone male—the male swelled, locked inside the female, struggling to run from the Alpha wolf’s angry charge.

Knotted. Ancients.

Danny felt his face flush all the way down to his chest.

Was that what Tim needed? How could Danny possibly replicate that?

His toys felt far too vanilla all of a sudden.

His gaze darted to the spilled box anyway, hoping for a miracle. Nothing resembled a knotting dildo. The shaft he held was lifelike enough, but had no way of inflating. Fuck!

Tim bucked violently, sobbing, slick soaking the nest beneath him. The sweet-sour scent of desperate need was overwhelming. Danny couldn’t fail Tim now. Think! His ice core pulsed. Could he shape ectoplasm? Form a bulb of it onto the dildo? But ectoplasm was unstable, risky enough already without having to shove it inside Tim. The thought terrified Danny—could he hold it steady enough not to hurt Tim? He couldn’t, he shouldn’t—

Tim’s pained cries shredded his resolve. He had no choice. He had to at least try.

He poured ecto into the hand holding the toy, focusing. He visualized the swell, the pressure ballooning just enough to lock the toy inside. He fed the energy down the shaft, condensing it, shaping a field of solid, firm pressure at its base. A phantom knot swelling inside Tim’s fluttering entrance.

The response was immediate. Tim clamped down fiercely, helping lock it deep inside himself with a desperate, possessive grip. A choked sob tore from his lips, followed by a ragged moan of relief. “Alpha!” The word was a sob, a prayer, a declaration.

“Shhh, Omega,” Danny breathed, voice strained, resuming tiny grinding thrusts that forced the phantom knot to test the resistance of Tim’s entrance. “Feel it? Alpha’s knot. Holding you. Claiming you. That’s what you needed, right?”

Tim keened in agreement, neck arching, muscles locking tight. His hips jerked upwards, grinding against the firm pressure. His eyes were wide, unseeing, locked on the ceiling above as ecstasy consumed him.

His fingers scrabbled, clutching Danny’s sleeve. He pulled Danny down with surprising strength, burying his face against the ghost’s chest. “Mine!” he gasped, fierce and possessive. “My Phantom!” His body convulsed, hips grinding in desperate circles against the anchoring pressure, milking the phantom knot with orgasmic pulses. The climax rolled through him in waves, each one dragging out a gasp, a whimper, a deeper nuzzle into Danny’s chest. He clung, trembling, purring brokenly as overwhelming relief washed through him, finally easing the desperate edge.

Finally.

Danny trembled with him. The phantom knot deflated slowly as Tim’s frantic clenching eased, ectoplasm fading back into the silicone. Danny kept the toy buried, unmoving, letting its chill soothe the aftermath. He leaned into Tim’s grip, resting his cheek against sweat-damp hair. His core hummed softly, a steady thrum. “Good job. You did such a good job,” he praised, voice rough. As though he’d been the one screaming, not Tim. “I’ve got you. You’re good.”

Tim purred.

He stroked Tim’s trembling back, feeling his rabbiting heartbeat slow down. Thank the Ancients. The heat’s frantic edge seemed to have finally crested, leaving behind an exhausted, clingy Tim.

Danny’s gaze drifted to the discarded rod, the spilled toys. His crotch throbbed, unfulfilled. But he didn’t make any move to soothe it. The intimacy and the vulnerability, everything they just went through…it was overwhelming. Exhausting. He needed a moment.

Carefully, he began to withdraw the toy, inch by inch. Tim whimpered, hands tightening on Danny's arm, but didn’t resist.

Once the dildo was free and discarded to be cleaned later, Danny eased Tim onto his side in a dry spot of the nest, tucking the fleece around him. He summoned a cool mist—a ghostly breeze—to soothe sweaty skin. “Rest now, Tim,” he whispered, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “I’m right here.”

Tim nuzzled into his hand, blinking heavy and slow.

Danny settled cross-legged beside him, back against the stone wall. He kept one cool hand on Tim’s shoulder, core humming softly. He ignored his erection, letting it be a reminder of the line he’d walked. Letting it be his punishment for what he did.

He closed his eyes, focusing on Tim’s breathing, deepening into sleep. 

He’d sit just a moment. Let his nerves settle.

Then, he’d deal with the aftermath.

The shift was subtle. It registered the removal of direct contact, the slight chill where Phantom’s hand had been. Tim’s purr stuttered. His breathing quickened. Beneath closed lids, his eyes moved rapidly. The vigilant part of his mind stirred. Threat? Separation?

Tim’s eyes snapped open.  Gone was the fevered glaze, replaced by sharp, calculating blue—Robin assessing a potentially hostile environment. He was instantly, painfully aware of the slick drying on his thighs, the ache between his legs, the nest of velvet and fleece, the smell of his own desperate heat clinging to everything. And Phantom... Phantom was pulling away, shifting out of the nest.

Adrenaline surged, cold and sharp, cutting through the hormonal haze like a batarang. He didn’t cry out. In one fluid, practiced motion fueled by panic and ingrained reflexes, Tim rolled sideways. His hand shot out with precision, seizing Phantom’s retreating wrist in a vice-like grip. His other hand braced against the velvet, pushing himself half-upright.

His gaze locked onto the king’s startled expression.

“No,” Tim rasped, voice rough from crying and shouting but devoid of omega whine. It was Tim Drake’s voice, strained yet fiercely determined. “Don’t go.” The plea was raw, stripped bare. The vigilante had surfaced, shaken but present. The haze of heat had broken. Mostly. The need still simmered beneath the surface, a low thrum of heat not yet extinguished, but Tim Drake was back in the driver’s seat, terrified of being abandoned in this vulnerable state. His grip tightened, knuckles white. “Stay.”

Phantom didn’t pull away, though he still looked startled. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his free hand and brushed his fingers gently over Tim’s knuckles where they gripped his wrist—a cool, feather-light touch meant to soothe, not break the contact.

“I’m not… going anywhere,” Phantom practically squeaked. A seriously un-king-like noise. “I was just going to get something to clean you off, that’s all. And maybe a drink. Food? Promise.”

Then Phantom seemed to fully register what was happening. His shoulders relaxed from where they’d been tense. “Well hey there,” he said, his voice tinged with half-hearted teasing. “I see you’re back with us? You scared me for a minute there, dude.”

Tim’s grip on him loosened a fraction. He swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry.

The detective was awake now.

His gaze flickered past Phantom’s face, scanning their surroundings: the wide empty bedchamber with a window that showed a sky of swirling green, the opened box of various sex toys, a discarded obsidian rod, the rumpled velvet soaked with slick, the faint shimmer of ghostly mist clinging to the air. His nostrils flared—the scent of his own heat, yes, but beneath it… ozone, ectoplasm, and the cool-clean scent that was Danny Phantom. His skin felt sticky, overheated, muscles aching with deep exhaustion. Like he’d worked through his first wave with help.

Pieces clicked into place. The toys. The clinging. The pleas for a knot Phantom couldn’t provide. Tim’s cheeks flushed crimson, mortification crashing over him. He’d begged. Presented. Used Phantom. Violated their pact. Dragged an eldritch king into his messy biology.

Tim flinched, pulling his hand away as if burned. His gaze dropped to the stained velvet, unable to meet Phantom’s gaze. “You…” His voice was hoarse, thick with shame. “I… I made you…” He couldn’t finish. The implications were horrifying. He’d forced Danny to witness… participate… in something fundamentally alien and likely repulsive to him. He curled in on himself, the vigilante replaced by a mortified teenager drowning in humiliation. The heat simmered, still present, but was eclipsed by crushing guilt.

Tim trembled and waited for the inevitable disgust, the withdrawal, the end of their pact. He’d ruined everything. He always ruined everything.

King Phantom slid off the nest, sinking onto the stone floor beside it. Tim’s stomach dropped, certain the ghost was leaving.

Then, with fluid grace, Phantom lowered himself fully. Not kneeling, but fully prostrating himself, forehead to the cool stone, hands palms-down on either side of his head. His aura flickered faintly, subdued. A posture of profound submission—something completely against Tim’s impression of the Ghost King.

“Tim Drake,” Phantom’s voice echoed softly, only slightly muffled, stripped bare of pretense. It trembled with raw emotion. “I… I owe you an apology. A huge one.” He lifted his head slightly, just enough to meet Tim’s shocked gaze. Green eyes wide, anguished. “You were drowning in instinct. Lost. You couldn’t consent. Not truly.” His voice cracked. “I crossed a line. I used my power… invaded your body… in a way you couldn’t understand or agree to in that state.” He lowered his forehead again. “I took advantage of your vulnerability. I betrayed your trust.”

He stayed prostrate, utterly still. “If you never want to see me again. If you revoke the pact. If you want me gone forever.” A shuddering breath. “You trusted me to guard you, my Robin. And I failed you in the worst way possible. I am so, so sorry.”

Tim was frozen, dumbfounded. Gotham taught harsh lessons: omegas blamed for their heats, alphas taking what they wanted, betas turning blind eyes. Apologies like Phantom’s? Tim hadn’t even considered the possibility. His words—“You couldn’t consent”—struck deep, resonating with a truth he’d never dared acknowledge. It wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t his fault. It was biology, yes, but in the same vein of being drugged or drunk senseless. Consent mattered. And Phantom—Danny—didn’t blame him. Danny blamed himself.

The realization hit hard. This wasn’t an eldritch king playing a role. The anguish was too raw. The apology was too authentic. There was something vulnerable and fiercely protective beneath the king’s aura that Tim had failed to notice before. Something undeniably human.

Ignoring the slick drying on his thighs, the ache between his legs, the nakedness, Tim pushed himself up and crawled out of the nest.

He reached Danny’s prone form and laid a trembling hand on his cool shoulder. His voice, rough but steady, was all Tim Drake.

“Stop.” Soft, but firm. “Get up.”

When Danny didn’t move, Tim straightened and sighed, folding his legs under himself.

“I should have told you long before it became a problem,” Tim argued back. “What was happening, what to expect. I hid it from you. I lied. I put you in an impossible position.” He swallowed, the admission burning. “You… You stayed anyway. You helped me when I was lost. You kept me safe.” His voice softened, squeezing Danny’s shoulder. “I appreciate that. More than you know.” He squeezed again, a silent plea. “You didn’t fail me, Phantom. You saved me. Thank you.”

Danny slowly pushed himself up onto his knees, green eyes wide with disbelief and guilt. He opened his mouth—likely to argue—but Tim cut him off with a sharp gesture towards the box of toys. His blue eyes, still sharp despite exhaustion, locked on Danny’s face. “You helped me with one of those, didn’t you?” Tim guessed, his voice low, analytical, but softer. “Probably while I was actively trying to strip you.” He paused, letting the image hang—himself, fevered, desperately clawing at Danny’s crotch to find some way to get at him. “Am I wrong?”

Danny froze, an unmistakable emerald flush blooming across his cheeks and down his neck. His mouth snapped shut. Utterly flustered, caught.

It wasn’t the reaction of an all‑powerful eldritch being. It was a teenage boy caught in an awkward, intimate moment.

And Tim… Tim found himself unexpectedly charmed by it. A weary smile touched his lips—his  first real smile since his pre-heat began. The humanity in Danny’s embarrassment, the vulnerability behind his power, was disarming and humbling both.

Tim leaned back slightly, expression softening into something warm and understanding. “Yeah,” he murmured, his smile lingering. “I thought so.”

The tension shifted, replaced by a fragile, shared understanding tinged with embarrassment…and something like trust.

Silence stretched, thick with the scent of heat and awkwardness. Tim’s smile eased Danny’s panic. Slowly, Danny nodded, confirming Tim’s deduction without words. His flush deepened, but he didn’t look away. He pointed vaguely toward the nest’s edge. “The… uh… dildo,” he mumbled with a cringe. “Seemed… most realistic.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You… you were begging. For… for a knot.” He swallowed, glancing away. “I couldn’t… physically… but I could simulate pressure. With ectoplasm.” His explanation was halting, clumsy, eyes searching Tim for a reaction. “I thought it might calm the instinct. Give you something to focus on besides…” He trailed off.

Tim listened to that fragmented explanation, absorbing the details he could and filling in the blanks left behind. The humiliation still burned, but gratitude overshadowed it. Danny hadn’t just endured—he’d improvised. He’d used his powers to soothe Tim’s biology the best he could. The willingness to step so far outside his comfort zone cut through Tim’s self‑blame and turned into something awed.

He reached out, placing his hand over Danny’s cool one on the stone. “It worked,” Tim admitted, voice thick. “It anchored me. When I was drowning.” He squeezed Danny’s hand. “Thank you.” The words were simple but heavy. He glanced to the nest, then back at Danny, practicality returning as the stickiness between his thighs became too difficult to ignore. “But… I think I need a shower. And maybe… some help getting there? I’m still shaky.”

He wasn’t asking for intimacy—just the protector he finally realized Danny was. Not the distant Eldritch King, but the snarky teenager that had been hiding under that mask all along.

Their pact wasn’t broken. It’s been reforged into something stronger and more complex altogether.

Danny immediately jumped up to slide his hand under Tim’s arm, supporting the omega as he rose. The walk to the adjoining bathroom—a cavern of polished obsidian with a recessed waterfall shower—was slow. Tim leaned on Danny, each step reminding him of aching muscles and the haze that would eventually return.

Under the spray, hot water sluicing sweat and slick away, Tim leaned his forehead to the wall and closed his eyes, letting the steam envelop him. The clarity was fleeting, precious. He knew it wouldn’t last. “Danny?” he called softly. He didn’t turn; he knew the ghost was nearby, respecting his privacy while staying close enough to hear him.

Danny doesn’t say anything, but that odd ringing hum that Tim noticed coming from him, so close to an Alpha’s purr that it sent Tim’s Omega instincts into overdrive, made a warble of acknowledgement.

“It’s… not over,” Tim admitted, voice thick. “Omegan heats… mine usually last about four days total.” He swallowed. “This was the peak. The worst.” He gathered himself. “The next three days, I’ll fade in and out of it. Driven by… instinct. It will be hard to think clearly. Hard to control myself.” He turned his head slightly into the spray, meeting the faint green glow beyond the curtain. “You don’t have to stay,” he insisted. “You can leave me to it. Though… If you could bring some food? Water?” He hesitated, blush returning. “And… maybe leave the toys?” Practical and awkward, born of necessity. “I can manage the rest alone. I promise. I’ve done it before.” He sounded like he was convincing himself as much as Danny.

Danny leaned against the wall outside the shower, steam curling around him. Tim’s request stabbed at his core. Leave? The memory of Tim’s despair when he’d vanished for two minutes to fetch the toys flashed vivid—those frantic moments when Tim had nearly unraveled into pieces. He wouldn’t “manage”. He’d suffer. Alone.

Danny’s core pulsed with a steady hum of determination. He phased partially through the wall so his voice carried but he kept his gaze averted. “Tim,” he said, firm. “Look at me.” He waited until he sensed Tim shift. Meeting those gorgeous blue eyes through the mist, he declared: “If you’re okay with it, then I’m staying.” He swallowed at the wide eyed look that gets. “You were drowning. I made it worse by leaving, even for a minute. I won’t do that again.” His green eyes held Tim’s, sincere. “But I need you to tell me—guide me. What helps? What hurts? What boundaries do I never cross? What do you need when the instinct takes over?” He gestured vaguely toward the bedchamber. “Do you need space? Touch? Just presence?” The crucial question: “And the knot thing—did it help? Or was it another violation?” His cheeks flushed but his gaze didn’t waver. “Tell me what you need. Not what you think I want to hear. I’ll follow your lead. Explicitly.” The Ghost King placed his trust entirely in the Omega’s capable hands.

Tim flinched under the spray as Danny’s words hit him—not pity, but fierce commitment. “I’m staying” echoed in his head, the declaration stark and undeniable. Danny wasn’t taking the chance to escape. Instead, he was offering even more of himself. All of himself, if Tim was reading him right.

Tim turned off the water. The sudden silence felt heavy. He grabbed a thick towel from the shelf and wrapped it tightly around his waist. Yanking aside the curtain, he stepped out into the misty air, droplets streaming down his skin, and approached the king. He didn’t shy from Danny’s gaze.

“Was that…” Tim began. He shook his head and tried again, “Is this just you being nice? Saying what you think I need to hear?” His stare was sharp, searching for any flicker of insincerity in Danny’s expression. “Because I can’t—I won’t—handle pity, Phantom. Not from anyone. Especially not from you.” He took a step closer, water dripping onto the dark stone floor. Danny’s throat bobbed. “You offered to stay. To help. Completely.” The words echoed between them. “So tell me,” he said, voice low and unwavering. “Back then… when I presented for you… did you want to take it? Did you want to claim me? Knot me? Fill me?” The words were stripped bare, fierce with vulnerability. “Or was it all just duty? Protecting me from myself?”

Danny shuddered violently, the memory slamming into him: Tim kneeling in the nest, trembling, lifting his hips in invitation, slick dripping from his folds down onto the velvet. The raw need that Danny had experienced…it had nearly drowned him. His core had pulsed with a fierce, alien possessiveness he’d never conceived of before. His ghost side had instinctively surged to the forefront, a low growl building in his chest, fingers itching to sink into Tim’s hips and take. The sheer force of that urge—to mount him, pin him, bury himself deep inside that slick heat and claim him—had terrified Danny.

Tim’s intense gaze held him captive. Danny couldn’t look away. His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper, thick with honesty and awe.

“Want?” he breathed. “Tim…” He stepped closer, his cool hand trembling as it hovered near Tim’s damp cheek, just barely not touching. “It took everything I had not to slam you down into that nest,” he confessed hoarsely. “Not to sink my teeth into your neck… not to make you mine.” His green eyes burned with anguish and longing. “The want was real. Terrifying. Consuming…like nothing I’d ever felt.” 

Danny faltered, considering his next words carefully. “...But you weren’t there to consent. It wasn’t you asking for it. It was the…the heat. And I—” His voice cracked. “I stopped. I ran. Because I couldn’t trust myself. Because I wanted it…too much.”

Tim stood utterly still, drinking in Danny's explanation. Slowly, so slowly, Tim's expression turned to something warm.

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned into Danny’s hand. He pressed his cheek firmly against the cool palm, nuzzling as though grounding himself in the touch. Danny shivered, breath catching.

Tim’s gaze rose, blue locked on green, fierce and steady, and he snuck out his tongue and delicately licked up the length of Danny’s index finger.

Danny shuddered, unable to tear his eyes away.

The taste of Danny’s skin was cool, electric, and tingled faintly on Tim’s tongue. He did it again, laving his tongue up the digit, before gently drawing Danny’s index and middle fingers into his mouth, where his tongue twinned around the two in an intimate caress. The sensation jolted straight through Danny’s body, a tiny star in his chest flaring with pale blue light.

He released Danny’s fingers with a soft, wet pop. “So,” he breathed, voice low and sugary, “if I asked you, right now, to give me what we both wanted back then. To knot me. To fill me.” His gaze didn’t waver. “Would you?” The question was made clear-eyed, deliberate. He was offering consent. Now. No heat involved. And demanding to know if Danny’s terrifying, consuming want still burned.

Danny sucked in a breath. In a blur of motion, he surged forward, pinning Tim against the cool obsidian wall. Their bodies pressed flush—chilled ghost flesh against fever-warmed skin. He captured Tim’s mouth in a fierce, hungry kiss, claiming what he couldn’t before. It wasn’t gentle. It was raw, possessive, born from want long-restrained.

One hand tangled in Tim’s wet hair; the other clutched the towel at his waist. “Yes,” Danny rasped against Tim’s lips, his voice rough with need. “Ancients, yes. I want you. I need you.” His forehead pressed to Tim’s, their breaths mingling. Then, doubt flickered in his eyes. He pulled back slightly and groaned, the sound low and agonized. “But… I don’t know if I can knot you. Not while I’m the one inside of you… not without losing control. Not without hurting you. I can’t…”

Tim’s hand slid up to Danny’s jaw, steady and sure. “Danny,” he whispered, lips brushing Danny’s, “I believe in you. Show me what you can do. Give me everything.”

The challenge was clear, the trust absolute.

He took Danny’s hand, fingers interlacing, and tugged him toward the nest. The chamber seemed to hum with anticipation as Tim guided him back across the stone floor. At the edge of the velvet and fleece, Tim stopped, gaze fierce, commanding. “Lie down,” he ordered softly.

Danny obeyed, sinking into the nest, green eyes wide and vulnerable. The Ghost King lay waiting, trust and desire laid bare, as Tim Drake climbed onto the nest after him.

Tim knelt beside him. His hands, still damp from the shower, found the clasps of Danny’s jumpsuit. He worked methodically, fingers tracing seams as he unfastened each buckle and zipper with deliberate slowness. His touch wasn’t clinical; it was possessive, exploratory. As he peeled the dark fabric away from Danny’s shoulders, he leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along Danny’s collarbone. His tongue flicked against cool skin, tasting ice and starlight. His fingers slid beneath the loosened jumpsuit, palms pressing flat against Danny’s chest, feeling the faint, pulsing hum of that little star in his chest. He pinched one of Danny’s nipples under the fabric, rolling it gently between thumb and forefinger, drawing a sharp gasp from the other.

Tim pushed the jumpsuit lower, down Danny’s torso. His hands slid over lean muscle, tracing the contours of Danny’s abdomen. He paused, fingers dipping teasingly into the hollow of Danny’s hip bone before moving lower still, cupping the growing bulge hidden beneath the material.

A low groan escaped Danny’s lips, his hips arching into Tim’s touch.

Tim squeezed him firmly, his thumb rubbing slow circles over the fabric-covered head, feeling it twitch beneath his ministrations. He leaned closer, his breath hot against Danny’s ear. "Feel that?" Tim whispered, his voice rough. "That’s mine." He punctuated the claim with another deliberate squeeze, his fingers kneading the hardening length through the jumpsuit, coaxing it to full stiffness. Danny shuddered beneath him, a low, resonant hum vibrating from his star—pure, unfiltered need. The Ghost King was utterly at his mercy, riled and ready.

Tim slid the jumpsuit down further, freeing Danny’s cock from its confines. Danny gasped as it sprung out, bouncing, flushed green and faintly glowing with ectoplasm beading at the slit. Tim’s gaze raked over him, possessive and hungry, drinking in the sight. He leaned down, pressing one last, lingering kiss against Danny’s hip bone, his tongue tracing the sharp ridge. Then, without warning, Tim shifted. Instead of sinking onto Danny’s cock as Danny desperately craved, Tim slid off of him entirely.

Danny’s core emitted a sharp, involuntary whine—a sound of startled loss, high-pitched and needy. The abrupt lack was agonizing. He immediately reached for Tim, fingers grasping at empty air. "Tim—?"

Tim ignored the grasping hand. He turned away, presenting his back to Danny. Slowly, deliberately, he knelt on the soft velvet, his knees sinking into the plush fabric. He arched his spine, leaned down on his elbows, lifting his ass high into the air in a clear, primal posture. The towel slipped low on his hips, barely clinging, until he pushed it away entirely with a deliberate flick of his wrist. He was fully exposed—the curve of his ass, the slickness coating his inner thighs, the swollen, needy entrance winking open with invitation. He glanced back over his shoulder, his blue eyes blazing with challenge and desire. A slow, confident smirk touched his lips. "Mount me, Alpha," he commanded, his voice low, resonant, and utterly certain. "Claim me. Fill me. Knot me." He pushed his hips back further, emphasizing the offering. “Show me what you want." The invitation was explicit, the consent absolute. The Ghost King’s restraint shattered.

A low, guttural growl ripped from Danny’s throat as he surged forward. His hands clamped onto Tim’s hips, fingers digging possessively into the flesh. Tim gasped, arching his spine further.

Then Danny dove. He buried his face between Tim’s spread thighs, his cool lips pressing against Tim’s folds, kissing them.

Tim let out a sharp yip—a high-pitched sound of surprise and pleasure—as Danny’s tongue lashed out, broad and flat, lapping greedily at the sweet nectar overflowing from Tim’s core. The sensation was electric, overwhelming. Tim moaned.

Danny groaned against him, the vibration sending shivers up Tim’s spine. He sucked hard on Tim’s outer lips, drawing them into his mouth, nipping gently before releasing them with a wet pop. Then his tongue plunged deep, spearing into Tim’s cunt with relentless hunger. It twisted and thrust, mimicking penetration, curling against Tim’s inner walls, seeking every drop of slick.

Tim cried out, his hands fisting in the velvet beneath him, his hips rocking helplessly against Danny’s face. He felt himself clenching around the invading tongue, his body instinctively milking it. A deep, resonant purr rumbled from the star in Danny’s chest, vibrating against Tim’s core—a sound of satisfaction that echoed Tim’s answering purr, low and needy in his throat. They were a symphony of desperate sounds—lapping, sucking, Tim’s sharp gasps and breathy moans harmonizing with Danny’s possessive growls and the deep, soothing purrs emanating from both their chests. Danny feasted, drinking Tim in, utterly consumed by the taste and the heat and the sheer, overwhelming rightness of it. Tim surrendered completely, lost in the sensation, his purrs growing louder, more insistent, trembling through his entire body as Danny’s tongue worked him deeper, harder, relentlessly pushing him towards the edge.

Tim’s purrs crescendoed into desperate whines, his hips bucking against Danny’s face. But Danny couldn’t stop. The taste—sweet, musky, uniquely Tim—was intoxicating. The slick flowed freely, coating Danny’s chin, dripping onto the velvet beneath them. He lapped it up greedily, sucking Tim’s T-dick into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it until Tim screamed, his body trembling violently on the brink of an orgasm.

Then, abruptly, Danny pulled away.

He lifted his head, panting heavily. A thick, viscous strand of Tim’s slick stretched between Danny’s lips and Tim’s glistening sex—a gleaming bridge of desire.

The sight, the scent, the sheer proof of Tim’s arousal drove Danny wild. His cock throbbed, aching and impossibly hard. He hovered over Tim, his breath ragged, green eyes burning with a desperate, possessive fire. "You sure?" he rasped, his voice thick with need, rough with the effort of holding back. He had to make sure. He had to hear it again, clear and present. "Tim? Are you sure?"

Tim twisted his head back, his blue eyes blazing with defiance and pure, unadulterated lust. Sweat plastered dark strands to his forehead. "Fuck me, Alpha," he demanded, his voice raw and powerful, echoing off the bedchamber walls. "Stop teasing and claim me!"

A fierce, triumphant grin split Danny’s face—wild and possessive. That was his Tim. Not the heat-addled mess begging for scraps. This boy—commanding, confident, demanding exactly what he wanted, consequences be damned. That was his Robin.

Danny surged forward.

He gripped the base of his cock, rubbing the broad, spongy head against Tim’s slick entrance. The contact sent jolts of electric pleasure through both of them. Tim gasped, pushing back eagerly with his hips, whining pleadingly.

Danny pressed in, the head of his dick catching and stretching Tim’s rim open deliciously. He paused, savoring the tight resistance, the slick heat enveloping just the tip. He gripped Tim's hips, stilling the omega's hurried movements.

Tim whined, wiggling impatiently. “Alpha!” he growled.

Maybe next time, Danny would tease him some more. Wring desperate cries and begs for more from Tim’s lips. But he was quite done with holding back.

With a low, possessive growl, Danny thrust forward—hard, deep, and claiming. He sheathed himself fully inside Tim’s scorching heat in one powerful stroke. Tim cried out—a sound of pure ecstasy and relief—as Danny’s hips slammed flush against his ass. Danny froze for a heartbeat, buried to the hilt, overwhelmed by the tight, wet heat clenching around him. He leaned forward, pressing his cool chest against Tim’s fevered back, his lips finding Tim’s ear. "Mine," he snarled, the word a vow etched in ice and fire. Then he began to move.

Each powerful thrust drove deep, the head of Danny’s cock nudging relentlessly against Tim's cervix—a cold, thrilling pressure that sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through his core.

Tim widened his legs, pushing his hips back to meet each savage drive. He anticipated the icy nudge, craving it, arching his spine to deepen the penetration. His hands clawed at the velvet beneath him, seeking purchase as Danny’s hips pistoned against his ass with bruising force.

A delighted purr erupted from Tim’s chest—a sound of pure omega satisfaction. It mingled with the slick, wet sounds of their joining and Danny’s ragged breaths above him. The scent of ozone, ice, and their mingled arousal hung thick in the humid air. Tim felt Danny’s cool hands gripping his hips like steel bands, holding him almost immobile against the onslaught. He pushed back harder, meeting Danny the best he could thrust for thrust, his hips rolling desperately.

The coldness inside him was a delicious counterpoint to the inferno raging through his veins. He felt every ridge, every pulse of Danny’s cock as it dragged against his sensitive inner walls. The relentless pressure against his cervix was ecstasy—a deep, aching fullness that promised oblivion.

His purring deepened, becoming a constant rumble in his chest, punctuated by sharp gasps and breathy moans whenever Danny angled a thrust just right, sending sparks dancing behind his eyelids. He was utterly claimed, utterly filled, riding the razor’s edge between pleasure and agony, and he never wanted it to stop. His body moved instinctively, perfectly synchronized with Danny’s, chasing that cold fire threatening to consume him whole.

The sensations threatened to overwhelm Danny completely. Tim’s slick heat clenched around him like a velvet fist, slick and tight and impossibly perfect. The deep, resonant purr vibrating against his cock was pure torture—a siren song urging him to lose control, to pound harder, faster, to chase his own release with abandon. Tim’s desperate pushes back against him, the eager arch of his spine, the way his body yielded and welcomed every savage thrust—it was maddening. Danny could feel his ectoplasm coiling tighter, the pressure building dangerously in his core. He wanted to explode, to fill Tim with everything he had, to claim him irrevocably.

Tim. Tim. Tim.

The name became a desperate mantra in his mind, a lifeline against the rising tide. He couldn’t blow now. Not yet. This—the feel of Tim beneath him, around him, submitting to him completely—was too precious, too profound to rush. He wanted it to last. He needed it to last.

With monumental effort, fueled by willpower and the chanting of Tim’s name under his breath, Danny forced himself to slow.

Tim whined.

Danny dragged his hips back agonizingly slowly, savoring every inch of Tim’s inner muscles fluttering and clinging desperately to keep him inside. Then, with deliberate, aching slowness, he pushed forward again, burying himself to the hilt in one long, deep stroke. He held himself there, grinding his hips against Tim’s ass, letting Tim feel the full, thick length of him stretching deep inside. He repeated the motion—slow withdrawal, agonizing pause, then a deep, grinding thrust that made Tim gasp and shudder beneath him, inner walls throbbing with arousal.

Danny leaned down, pressing cool lips to the sweat-slicked skin of Tim’s shoulder blade. His voice was a ragged whisper against Tim’s skin, strained with the effort of control. "Feel it?" he breathed, punctuating the question with another slow, deep grind. "Feel how deep I am? How full you are?" He groaned, the sound low and tortured, grinding his forehead between the omega's shoulder blades.. "Tim… I need…" He rolled his hips again.

He focused everything on the connection, on the feel of Tim around him, on the deep, content purr tangling with his core. He would make this last. For Tim. For himself. For the fragile, beautiful trust shimmering between them.

Danny’s agonizingly slow pace was the most exquisite torture. Each thrust stretched Tim impossibly deeper, the cold, hard length of Danny grinding against his cervix as though trying to breach inside his womb. Tim could have cried, it was so good.

If Tim hadn’t been in heat, it would have been perfect.

The purring in Tim’s own chest faltered, replaced by a high, desperate keen.

He needed more. Needed the frantic, claiming pace Danny had started with. Needed the oblivion only a hard knotting could bring. He couldn’t bear the slow, deliberate claiming—not now, not when the heat screamed through his veins demanding immediate satisfaction.

With a surge of desperate strength, Tim hooked a hand behind him, fingers tangling in the unruly tufts of Danny’s white hair. He hauled Danny’s head down towards his own.

Ignoring the startled flash of green eyes, Tim twisted his neck and captured Danny’s panting mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss. It wasn’t gentle. It was teeth and tongue and desperate need. He kissed Danny hard, biting his lower lip with a fang before plunging his tongue deep, tasting ozone and desperation.

When he finally pulled back, gasping, his lips hovered mere millimeters from Danny’s ear. His voice was a raw, hot whisper, thick with promise and pheromones. "Three more days of my heat, Danny," he breathed, the words scorching Danny’s skin. "Three days of this." Tim clenched his inner muscles around Danny’s cock—a tempting squeeze that drew a ragged, desperate groan from the ghost’s throat.

He felt Danny shudder violently against him, the icy cock inside him jumping in response.

Tim grinned and bit the ghost’s earlobe sharply. "Slow can come after." He clenched again, harder this time, a relentless milking pressure designed to shatter Danny’s control. He arched his spine impossibly further, presenting himself completely, pushing his hips back against Danny’s grinding pelvis. His whisper became a command of his own, thick with the authority of an omega demanding his due: "Come on, Alpha. Knot me. Make me yours."

A low, guttural snarl ripped from Danny’s throat.

Danny’s hips snapped forward with brutal force, abandoning the agonizing slowness. He slammed into Tim, burying himself to the hilt in one savage thrust that punched the breath from Tim’s lungs and made him cry out a moan.

He pulled back almost completely, leaving only the tip stretching Tim’s rim, before driving home again with bruising intensity. He set a punishing rhythm—short, sharp, piston-like thrusts that hammered relentlessly against Tim’s womb, each impact sending jolts of icy pleasure radiating through Tim’s core.

Danny leaned forward, his cool chest pressing flush against Tim’s fevered back, his lips finding the sensitive skin beneath Tim’s ear. His voice was a dark, possessive growl, vibrating against Tim’s skin. "Like this?" he rasped, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust that made Tim gasp. "Want this?" Another slam. "Tim. Tim. Ancients." He nipped sharply at Tim’s ear. His hips pistoned faster, harder, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing in the room.

Danny’s hand slid from Tim’s hip, fingers tracing a cold path down Tim’s trembling abdomen. He finds the swollen, throbbing nub of Tim’s dick. His cool thumb pressed down, rubbing in tight, rapid circles around the hypersensitive shaft. The dual assault was overwhelming—the brutal pounding deep inside him and the relentless friction against his dick. Tim arched violently, a choked cry escaping his lips. Danny’s thumb pressed harder, circling faster, a counterpoint to the savage thrusts. "Come for me, Tim," Danny commanded, his voice rough with need. "Come on my cock. Scream my name. Then I’ll knot you." His thrusts became shorter, deeper, grinding against Tim’s deepest spot while his thumb worked Tim’s dick mercilessly. He was pushing Tim towards the edge with terrifying speed, determined to wring that orgasm from him before the knot claimed him completely.

As Danny drove into Tim with relentless force, his focus split.

Part of him remained locked on the euphoria: the scorching heat gripping him, the slick noises of their joining, the desperate sounds tearing from Tim’s throat. But another part—the ghostly core pulsing within his chest—lasered in on the ectoplasmic energy concentrated in his cock. He could feel it swirling, building pressure with every thrust, a volatile storm barely contained. 

Slowly, he commanded himself, fighting the instinct to unleash it all at once. Feed it. Control it.

While his hips pistoned against Tim’s ass and his thumb worked Tim’s T-dick with ruthless precision, Danny poured his will inward. He visualized the icy power flowing from his core, not outward in a burst, but channeled deliberately down into the base of his cock.

It was a slow, deliberate infusion, like molten steel cooling into shape. He felt the ectoplasm respond, thickening and swelling at the root. The base of his cock began to expand, gradually, inexorably—a slow, heavy thickening that promised an impossible stretch.

Danny groaned, the sound thick with effort and raw pleasure. The swelling knot stretched Tim’s entrance with each withdrawal, catching deliciously on the rim before plunging deep again.

He leaned down, biting Tim’s shoulder blade as he hissed against sweat-slicked skin, "Feel it growing, Tim? Feel how deep it’s gonna lock?" His thumb pressed harder against Tim’s T-dick, circling furiously. "Come now. Come screaming. Then…" He thrust harder, grinding the burgeoning knot against Tim’s stretched entrance. "...I fill you till you burst." The promise hung thick in the air.

The brutal pace, the knot swelling inside him, the relentless stimulation on his dick—it was so much.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His world narrowed down to the pounding deep into his core and the friction against his dick. His body coiled tighter than a spring, every muscle trembling on the precipice. The deep purr in his chest choked off, replaced by ragged, gasping breaths that hitched with every thrust.

He tried to speak, to beg, to command, but all that escaped was a fractured whine, high-pitched and desperate. His fingers scrabbled uselessly against the velvet beneath him, finding no purchase. His hips bucked wildly, trying to meet Danny’s thrusts, trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure-pain, trapped in a cycle of instinctive need. Tears blurred his vision, hot tracks carving paths through the sweat on his cheeks. He was drowning—drowning in sensation, in Danny, in the beautiful promise of the knot locking him to his Alpha.

His climax built like a supernova, unstoppable, terrifying, and utterly consuming. He was seconds from shattering. He could feel it—a white-hot coil tightening deep in his belly, ready to snap. He opened his mouth, a silent scream forming, his body arching impossibly off the nest, taut as a bowstring.

“Danny!” Tim screamed.

Tim’s voice broke free in a raw, guttural cry. His body convulsed, back arching, muscles clenching in waves of orgasmic release.

The vise-like clenching around Danny combined with the sheer power of Tim’s climax was Danny’s final undoing.

The careful control he’d exerted over his ectoplasm snapped. With a shout, Danny slammed home a final time. His swollen knot forced its way past Tim’s stretched rim with a wet, heavy pop. It lodged deep, locking them together. The moment it seated, Danny’s own release surged forth—waves of ectoplasm shooting against Tim’s womb, his dick jumping with each spurt,

The experience was incredible. Heavenly. Euphoric. Nirvana itself.

Danny collapsed forward, burying his face in the sweat-damp nape of Tim’s neck, his body shuddering as he continued pumping cum into his trembling omega. His arms wrapped possessively around Tim’s waist, holding him pinned, utterly claimed, as the aftershocks wracked them both.

Consciousness returned in fractured shards. Sensation first: the deep, satisfying ache between his legs where Danny’s knot remained locked, swollen and heavy inside him. The chill of Danny’s cum deep in his core, a soothing balm to the heat lingering beneath his skin. Then sound: Danny’s ghostly humming purring against his back, a counterpoint to his own ragged breathing. Finally, awareness: the sticky mess cooling on his stomach and thighs, the scent of sex and ectoplasm thick in the air, the velvet nest beneath him now beyond rumpled and damp.

A wave of satisfied exhaustion crashed over him, heavier than any he’d felt during his previous heats. His limbs felt like lead, utterly boneless. Yet, beneath the fatigue, something else chuffed—a deep contentment of his inner Omega. The frantic, desperate edge of his heat had been sated, replaced by a warm, liquid languor. He was full. Claimed. Anchored to his Alpha.

Slowly, cautiously, Tim shifted. A soft whimper escaped his lips as the movement tugged at the knot still buried deep within him. A fresh shot of cold shot from Danny’s dick inside him, a fresh spurt of cum.

Tim tilted his head, nuzzling against the shoulder of the arm wrapped around his waist.

"...Danny?" He pressed back against the solid, cool presence behind him, seeking reassurance in the connection, in the knot that bound them as one.

Danny stirred, the deep purr in his chest stuttering as awareness sharpened. The intensity of Tim’s climax, the power of his own release—it had momentarily swept him up into a cloud of post-orgasmic bliss.

Now, the aftermath settled upon him: the feel of Tim’s trembling form pressed flush against his chest, the slick heat still gripping his knot, the overwhelming scent of sex and sweat clinging to them both.

He vaguely registered Tim’s nuzzle, the hoarse whisper of his name. The vulnerability in that single word pierced through the lingering haze surrounding him. He blinked back to awareness.

Carefully, mindful of the knot still binding them, Danny eased his hold just enough to shift them onto their sides, spooning around the omega. He pressed a cool, lingering kiss to the damp skin behind Tim’s ear, tasting salt and exhaustion.

His voice was deliberately soft, a stark contrast to the growls and commands of moments before. "Shhh, Tim. I’ve got you." He traced a gentle, almost reverent path with his thumb along the bite mark he’d left on Tim’s shoulder blade. The silence stretched, filled only by their breathing and the distant hum of the Keep. Then, the question came, hesitant, laced with a vulnerability Danny rarely allowed himself anymore: "I didn’t hurt you, did I?"

The words were quiet, tentative. He searched Tim’s scent, his posture, the minute tremors running through him for the raw, unguarded truth. His thumb stilled its tracing, waiting.

Tim turned his head with effort, meeting Danny’s searching gaze. Tears welled anew, but these weren’t tears of desperation or pain. They were hot, silent tracks carving paths through the drying sweat on his cheeks, born of overwhelming relief and a profound, terrifying gratitude.

His lips trembled, forming words that felt clumsy, inadequate against the magnitude of what he felt. "Hurt?" A shaky breath escaped him, almost a sob. He pressed back harder against Danny, seeking the solidity, the comfort. His hand, trembling, lifted to brush against Danny’s cheek, fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "You were perfect." He held Danny’s gaze, his own eyes wide and impossibly bright, stripped bare. "Just... perfect."

Danny’s core chirped, welcoming the soft purr starting up again in Tim’s chest.

Danny reached out blindly, fingers finding the fleece blanket tangled up nearby. With a smooth motion (and a little intangibility), he pulled it up and over them both, tucking it snugly around Tim’s shoulders, cocooning them in its soft warmth against the Keep’s ambient chill. He settled then, his body a cool, solid line against Tim’s back, his arm tightening possessively around Tim’s waist. His chin rested atop Tim’s head, their matching purrs a melody of sated pleasure.

"Rest now, Tim," he said, the words imbued with a quiet authority that promised safety. "Save your strength. We have three more days of this to get through, after all."

Tim smiled and nuzzled noses with Danny, a cute little bunny kiss that made Danny’s core light up happily.

Nestled within the circle of Danny’s arms, cocooned in fleece and the lingering scent of honey and satisfaction, Tim felt the weight of exhaustion finally win. The knot’s deep ache was a grounding throb, Danny’s purr a lullaby vibrating through his bones. His eyelids grew impossibly heavy, fluttering shut. Frantic thoughts dissolved into a warm, syrupy haze. Safety. Belonging.

Words formed sluggishly on his tongue, thick with impending sleep. His lips moved against the cool skin of Danny’s forearm wrapped around him. The command was a breathless whisper, barely audible even in the silence. "Stay." His fingers, tangled loosely with Danny’s over his waist, squeezed once. "...Stay..."

The repetition faded into a sigh as his breathing deepened, evening out. His body went lax against Danny’s, tension draining away. Within moments, he was deeply asleep, his face pressed trustingly against Danny’s bicep, the faintest hint of a smile softening his tear-streaked features.

Danny felt the exact moment Tim surrendered to sleep. He held perfectly still, his core pulsing softly, a steady rhythm matching Tim's resting heartbeat.

Slowly, Danny lowered his head. He nuzzled the crown of Tim’s sweat-damp hair, inhaling the fading scent of heat-stress replaced by the returning sweetness of honey, a little less overpowering this time.

He pressed his lips gently against Tim’s temple, lingering for a heartbeat. Then, pulling back just enough to see Tim’s peaceful face in the dim light, Danny smiled—a genuine, unguarded expression that softened the sharp lines of his ghostly features.

"Always," he promised quietly, the word imbued with the quiet certainty of eternity. "I’m yours."

He settled back against the omega, his gaze never leaving Tim’s sleeping face. The Ghost King kept his watch, guarding the fragile peace he’d carved for his omega in the heart of his—their—Keep.

Chapter Text

Tim stirred with an involuntary whine as Danny's knot deflated enough to slide free. The slick shlurp sound of their separation echoed obscenely in the quiet room, leaving Tim shuddering and clenching around nothing, already missing the connection. 

Danny shushed the omega soothingly, brushing a cool kiss against Tim’s temple. "Be right back," he said, getting up from the nest. "Gotta go grab some food and something to clean you up with."

The words seeped slowly past Tim’s post-knot haze as Danny slipped out of the room. The loss of his Alpha ached, but Tim let out a slow breath, forcing his body to settle.

Tim pushed himself upright, dried sweat and slick sticking to his skin in an unpleasant way. Velvet had to be manually removed from him in spots, smelling strongly of sex and heat-scent.

Tim’s omega purred in pleasure. Their Alpha had taken good care of them. Good Alpha, strong Alpha. Will take good care of their pups— he forced the train of thought away with a shake of his head.

As he came back to himself, Tim began to take stock. Sore muscles, aching legs. No bruises—Alpha had taken care not to hurt him with his inhuman strength. There was an ache on his shoulder blade from where Danny had bit down, but Tim felt no blood when he brushed a hand against it. A love bite, not a claiming one. His omega was distraught by that, but only a little. The pleasant ache between his legs was enough at the moment.

Tim breathed in, noting the pleasant combination of their scents. Ice and honey. Cool, sweet, and refreshing. A hint of electricity. Something earthy, like pine sap.

The low, simmering pulse of his heat coiled at the base of his spine. Not urgent, but present enough to keep him keyed to every brush of fabric against his heated skin, every lingering scent of Danny clinging to the sheets. The longer Danny was gone, the hotter Tim felt himself becoming. Like Danny had been a balm to his fever-hot skin.

He rubbed absently at his face, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes. He should feel shame, or maybe even awkwardness, but the thing Tim was feeling most was… contentment.

Oddly enough, it was the first time since Bruce’s disappearance that Tim actually felt rested.

It startled him to realize just how long he’d gone since he rested without guilt gnawing at the edges of his conscience. Nights filled with calculations, endless loops of failure, the hollow ache of his father-slash-mentor’s absence. His friends and family coming up dead or gone or lying about their death as a test created by Batman (thanks, Steph). A kid assassin trying to kill him at every turn in order to take his place in the family. Even unconscious, his dreams had been barbed wire, cutting him deeper each time he reached for something he could never hold.

But now, for a moment, for one fragile hour, the weight was gone. Lifted off his shoulders.

His body ached, yes, and the tendrils of heat still smoldered in his blood, but beneath it was a bone-deep relief he wanted to—but couldn’t—trust. You don’t get to feel this way. Not when Bruce is still— He cut off the thought before it spiraled.

Tim drew his knees up, trying to collect himself. The movement shifted his body, and that was when he felt it. The wet seeping between his legs.

Frowning, Tim parts his legs, peering down at himself. Most of it was normal. Sweat and slick drying sticky on his thighs, his sex still flushed and sensitive when the air stirs around it. His pussy lips and dick pleasantly aching from the abuse Danny put them through. But the kryptonite green trickling out of his cunt…

His inner walls clenched, pushing out a fresh glob of glowing cum.

His inner omega purred at the sight, pleased by the claim written so clearly on him.

The door creaked faintly, movement caught at the edge of his vision as Danny reentered, juggling bottles of water, packets of food, and a damp towel slung over his shoulder. A hastily pulled on pair of pajama bottoms hung low on his waist, revealing the tantalizing lines of his hips.

"Sorry, sorry," Danny muttered, kicking the door shut with his heel. "Kitchen’s kinda… post-apocalyptic right now. Our last living guest was, like, a while ago? So the ‘fresh’ fruit started doing the cha-cha slide across the counter when I reached for it. Reanimated mangoes are weird. So, pre-packaged food and water it is." He stops when he notices Tim, who was still staring hard between his legs. “Tim? What’s wrong?” 

Tim looked up. “Do you think we should have used protection?” he asked, gesturing to the mess between his legs.

Danny froze, going immediately wide-eyed, clearly caught off guard by the question. The bottles wobbled dangerously in his hands as he fumbled to keep hold of everything. “U-Uh…” he stammered, voice cracking with nerves, as though the thought had never once crossed his mind until now. “I mean…”

Tim blinked at him, taking in the shock, the way Danny’s mouth opened and closed, searching for footing. It hit him almost immediately—Danny had assumed he meant protection to prevent pregnancy. The absurdity of it made Tim’s lips twitch before he could stop himself.

“No, no, no, not that!” he’s quick to assure. “I have a birth control implant. ‘Always be prepared’ and all that.” Sometimes Bat-paranoia went a long way, especially considering even the Alphas of the family had that implant. Even Alfred had the implant. There were weirder things that happened to them over the years than a pregnant Alpha or grandfatherly British butler, after all.

Danny slowly deflates, breath pushed out of him in a long whoosh. He chuckles nervously, apparently still rattled by the idea. He shakily sets down his collection just outside of the nest, plastic tumbling every which way. He fumbles some more trying to right everything before finally giving up with a soft curse. Tim can’t help but giggle at the sight. “Right, yeah, of course… implant, that makes sense… Uh, what did you mean, then?”

Tim hid his smile behind the back of his hand. “I meant the ectoplasm. Is it safe? I’d rather not start glowing in places that shouldn’t glow. Or get radiation poisoning.”

Danny blinked, then let out a startled laugh, half nerves, half genuine amusement. “Oh—oh! Right. Yeah, okay, that makes way more sense than—” He cut himself off, pointed ears going green. “Wow, I really jumped to the wrong conclusion there, huh?”

Tim couldn’t help it—he snorted, then covered his face with one hand, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Yeah. You did. Relax. Unless ghost-cum is somehow stronger than top-of-the-line Bat tech, I think we’re good.”

Danny wheezed a laugh, clutching his stomach. Tim noticed the silvery lines of a lichtenberg scar running from his left hand up his arm to his chest. “I can’t—oh my god, ghost cum. Okay, okay. You win. Point to you.”

Tim’s giggle slipped out before he could stop it, the sound muffled behind his hand. The lightness in his chest was foreign but welcome, bubbling up as Danny finally flopped down cross-legged outside the nest, looking both exasperated and delighted.

Setting aside the last of his supplies, Danny grabbed a bottle of water and tore open a couple of protein bars, handing them over with an earnestness that softened the moment. “Here. Fuel up before you pass out again.”

As Tim accepted them, Danny leaned in and pulled the wet rag from his shoulder. Ice fractals glittered on the newly revealed skin. Heat curled low in Tim’s belly. “And seriously—don’t worry about it. The pact between us takes care of a lot. At worst? You might get a little more liminal, but with all the portal and Realms exposure you’ve already had, it’s nothing you aren’t already used to.”

The rag was blessedly cold against Tim’s heated skin. The omega started purring happily as Danny carefully cleaned the sweat, slick, and cum from between Tim’s legs. Danny’s touch was steady, unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. Every pass of the cloth left him cleaner, lighter, until he could almost pretend the frantic haze of heat had never swallowed him whole in the first place. Tim’s logical side muttered about being a weakness and not worth the time and energy, but it was drowned out by Danny’s expression of simple reverence—like Tim was someone worth tending to.

Tim raised an eyebrow at the ghost, nibbling at the corner of a bar. “So no glowing in places that shouldn’t glow?” he asked, mostly teasing.

Danny grinned, flashing his fangs. “Not unless you want it for dramatic effect.”

Tim snorted into his water, shaking his head. “I’ll pass, thanks,” he said drily.

Danny works in patient arcs, careful where the velvet and fleece clings to sensitive skin. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t joke, doesn’t do anything but breathe alongside Tim and work until all of Tim is wiped clean. It’s not quite a bath, but it’s much better than marinating in dried fluids.

Tim swallows another mouthful of water and hears himself ask, almost idly, “Did you really say yes because you were bored?”

Danny’s hand pauses mid-wipe. The cloth hovers, then resumes as if nothing was wrong. “To the pact?” he asks, feigning innocence in a way he must think is subtle. How cute, Tim can’t help but think in amusement. You and I both know me better than that, Phantom.

“Mm.” Tim rolls the water bottle against his cheek for an extra second of chill against his heated skin. “That’s what you claimed. Back when we sealed our agreement.” He lets the next words fall gently—he’s not attempting to accuse Danny of anything. He just wanted to know the truth. “But you’re not acting like this is about boredom, anymore.”

Danny’s shoulders tense. The cloth slows. He’s quiet long enough that a familiar voice in Tim’s head begs him to retract the question, smooth the tension, pretend it wasn’t an issue. Don’t go ruining a good thing with your paranoia. This is how you lost them—

Tim forces himself to take a drink and waits.

The ghost clears his throat. “Right,” he says, voice airy and utterly unconvincing. “I was bored. Too much of the same stuff going on around here, ruling the Infinite Realms.”

“Of course,” Tim replied drily. “Because nothing says ‘bored’ like dropping literally everything to tend to a mortal searching futilely for his dad.”

“Time is infinite here. Literally infinite time to do infinite work,” Danny mutters, and then, because deflection is a brittle shield, he sighs and gives up. He pulls the soiled rag away from Tim, tossing it out of the nest where it lands with a sad little splat, and says, quieter, “No. It wasn’t boredom.”

Tim stares at Danny’s hands—corpse blue, fingers tipped with white claws. The silver lightning that spidered up the planes of his left arm. Green freckles that winked and glittered like stars over his skin. Dangerous. Inhuman. But they had held Tim so, so carefully. “Then why?”

Color rises along Danny’s cheekbones. He doesn’t meet Tim’s eyes. “You didn’t see yourself when you first summoned me. You were worn thin, exhausted, and I could tell even through your mask that your eyebags had eyebags,” he admits with a tiny smirk. That hint of a smile faded, and he glanced up at Tim from under snow-white lashes. “I was worried. You were willing to summon me, a stranger of unknown power, with no guarantee that I wouldn’t make your life even worse for you. If I didn’t agree to help you…what lengths would you have gone to get what you wanted?”

Tim’s lips thinned. “So you lied.”

Danny gives a helpless shrug. “I was worried. And I didn’t know if you would accept the real reason that I wanted to go with you.” He glances up, then down again. He started wringing his hands in that startlingly human gesture of nerves. “But every time I tried to offer to help, you got this…” He wobbles a hand near his own face. “This suspicious look. Like help was a trap that you had to find the price for. And I didn’t know you. You didn’t know me. If I made it about me—about wanting to help—” He shakes his head. “I figured you’d trust me even less than before. Which would be in the negative. So. I made it about something else. Boredom. Tagalong Ghost King of the Infinite Realms. Popping in and out at his leisure. Purely from whimsy.”

Tim is both absurdly grateful and absurdly undone. “You lied,” he says again, stressing the word. He doesn’t know what to feel. He feels…seen. Exposed. He fought the instinct to cover up, as though finally realizing that he’s naked in a stranger’s room burrowed in a nest that wasn’t really his.

“Okay, yeah, I lied. A little bit. A lot, actually.” Danny rubs the back of his neck, cracking a sheepish grin. His grin fades to something more earnest. “I wanted to be where you were. I wanted to make sure you were alive in a week. And I didn’t think ‘please let me help’ would get me in the door.”

Flattered and offended both, Tim lets out a shaky breath. He picks at a stray thread of fleece. “You read me that well with nothing to go on.”

Danny’s expression goes soft. Something achingly kind and caring. Tim’s heart pounds in his ears. His inner omega doesn’t know whether to purr or keen. “I had something to go on,” Danny says. “You have this way of pretending you’re fine that sets off alarms even in those of us without a living heart. It’s loud.”

“Great,” Tim says dryly, and takes another drink to keep the warmth in his face from becoming obvious. It doesn’t help. He deflects. “So the pact wasn’t about boredom.”

“No.” Danny picks up another protein bar, opens it, and offers it to Tim, who takes it mechanically. It tastes like cardboard and ash in his mouth. “It was an excuse so I could stick around and carry heavy things and make you take breaks without starting a fight about autonomy.” He peeks up, nervous now that the truth is out in the air. “Was that… not okay?”

It’s so disarmingly backwards that Tim laughs, startled. “You’re asking permission after the fact?”

Danny winces. “Consent retroactively acquired? I know…not my best look.”

“That’s two for two on retroactive consent,” Tim can’t help but tease. At Danny’s wince, Tim shakes his head with a self-depreciating smile. “I mean, you weren’t wrong. And it worked,” he admits. “I never would have agreed to you following me around otherwise. I would have definitely been too suspicious. I was already suspicious enough.”

“You were a little bit paranoid,” Danny agrees with a chuckle, a thread of relief stitched in the words.

Tim shakes his head and caps his water bottle. He’s cleaner, he’s fed and watered, his heart is a little heavier with the knowledge that Danny had joined him on his journey to find Bruce because he’d wanted to help Tim. Tim. Some lowly mortal vigilante kid garnering that level of empathy from the very King of a whole dimension.

But then again, was Danny really just a king? The way he’s sitting now—cross-legged, hair and clothes rumpled, flushed with embarrassment, and smelling strongly of Tim’s own heat-scent… Tim couldn’t help but look at him and see someone not that much older than Tim, himself, was. A teenager.

“And now?” Tim asks. He doesn’t plan it—doesn’t map the conversational angles first or rehearse the exits. He just asks, voice curious and a little frayed from the depth of emotion felt in this conversation. His heat ripples through him again, a wave licking up his spine in reminder. He shivers.

Danny looks up in confusion. “Now?” he echoes, cocking his head. He considers the question, tilting up his chin so he’s peering up at the stone ceiling. Then, with a simple certainty that leaves Tim breathless, Danny tells him, “I mean. You’re my Robin.”

Tim’s breath hitches, then breaks. Tears gather without permission. He hates them. He can’t stop them. The burn in his throat is old and new all at once.

“Wha—Hey,” Danny yelps, instantly worried, reaching with his free hand before catching himself as if he needs permission to touch. The uncertainty in him is a small, bright hurt.

Tim turns his head away, wipes clumsily with the back of his wrist, and says, too quickly, “But I’m not.” The words spill like he has tripped and fallen over them. “I’m not, though.”

“Not what?” Danny asks, and the gentleness in it makes the tears worse.

“Robin,” Tim forces out, and the name tastes like blood on his tongue. He sucks in a sharp breath, feels the nest of soft fabrics under him, feels the cold of Danny’s presence and clings to both like handholds.

Danny waits. It is a gift he gives that unspools Tim’s defenses far more effectively than clever questions ever could. Tim shudders and hides his face.

“My brother—Dick,” Tim croaks, and the name itself is a tender, bruised fruit under Tim’s tongue—“He was the first Robin. The original holder. He…He took the mantle away from me and gave it to Bruce’s blood son. His real son.” He swallows thickly. “I mean. I get why he did it. It made sense.” He laughs once, a sound with too many edges.

“Damian?” Danny’s face sharpens with recognition and incredulity, having heard the name from one of the few times Tim had talked to him about his family. Back when it was a vigilante and a bored, overpowered Ghost King shooting the shit. Tim was rather flattered that Danny remembered at all. “The one who tried to kill you?”

Tim lets out a breath that is not a laugh. “That’s the one.”

The air in the room grows chilled, like a cold front washing through. Danny’s eyes flash green. (Tim shudders and tries vainly not to think of Red Hood.) “And your brother thought that was a good idea?”

“I know why he did it,” Tim says quickly, reflexively defending Dick. Even though Tim, himself, had nursed those same thoughts in the dark. “He was trying to hold the family together. He saw a kid who was angry and hurting and thought giving him a home—giving him that home—would anchor him. Damian was placed with us when he was ten, less than a year ago now. And he glorified his father like no other. And when Bruce quote-unquote “died”?” Tim swallowed, wiping at the tears that refused to stop. He sniffled wetly. “…Well. Without Bruce, without his father, Damian had nothing to hold him to Gotham. He would have ended up right back with the assassin cult that raised him. Dick wasn’t about to let that happen.” He scrubs at his face again, frustrated that the story still brought him to tears. “Dick knew that giving Damian Robin would get him to stay. And. He was right, last I checked on them. Damian’s still in Gotham. Being Robin.” His bottom lip trembles, so he sucks it into his mouth to forcibly stop the reaction.

Danny’s mouth flattens. “Having a good reason doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt you, Tim.”

The words are simple. They are also a key to a lock Tim had been trying to pick for forever. He looks at Danny, really looks—the ridiculous pajama pants, the otherworldly glow, the gentleness and power simultaneous in his Lazarus water eyes. He nods, a tiny motion, and feels something unclench in his ribs. He looks down at his hands clenched in his lap.

Danny leans closer and slowly lifts his cold hands to Tim’s face. He doesn’t force Tim to look at him. He only offers the shape of his palms for Tim to lean into, thumbs catching stray wetness and smoothing it away with touches so light they make Tim’s throat ache with a bitten-back whine. “Even still,” Danny murmurs, “you’re my Robin.”

Tim’s immediate purr bursts out of his throat, ridiculous and involuntary. His breath hitches into a soft sob on the same exhale, an ungraceful combination that would mortify him if Danny weren’t looking at him like this was the most normal way a heart could talk. Tim lets himself shake once, hard, and then breathes around it.

“Can I—” His voice cracks. He reaches up, clasping tightly onto one of Danny’s wrists, and tries again. “Can I kiss you?”

Danny blushes as though they hadn’t already done far more than just kiss. He blinks in surprise one second, then shyly the next. “Uh,” he says eloquently, “Yes?”

The question mark in the statement is pure Danny. It makes something bright and foolish bloom under Tim’s sternum. He doesn’t lunge. He doesn’t betray that his blood is still running too hot with the heat burning under his skin. No, Tim leans in slowly, because slow is what the moment deserves, because patience is also a claim of its own.

Their mouths meet—cold to hot—and the relief of it is so immediate Tim almost laughs mid-kiss. Danny tastes like ice with a hint of Tim’s own slick that drives Tim’s inner omega absolutely wild. The kiss is gentle and not terribly skilled and exactly right. Danny’s hand stays against Tim’s jaw, a cold brand holding them steady. Tim’s fingers find the waistband of pajama pants and then abort the mission last minute, settling instead over Danny’s bare hip bone, which is a silly, perfect piece of geography to hold onto while the world rearranges itself around the omega.

When they break, they hover close, breathing the same air. Danny’s eyes flutter open. “Okay,” he whispers, like they’ve successfully defused a bomb. “Cool.”

Tim smiles wide, sniffling one last time, hopelessly smitten with this idiot. “You are cool,” he agrees teasingly, pinching Danny’s cold hip.

Danny yelps and laughs, squirming away like the pinch tickled. Were ghosts ticklish? Tim’s detective mind had to know. “I say ‘cool’ when I am experiencing several emotions and want to be respectful of the moment without exploding,” Danny counters, grinning goofily.

Tim huffs and shuts him up with another kiss. He can find out if Danny’s ticklish…later.

Tim nips Danny’s bottom lip with deliberate pressure, tugging. Danny makes a startled sound that melts into a hum, his thumb stroking absent circles against Tim’s cheekbone. Heat sparks between them as Tim parts his lips. Danny follows eagerly, his tongue licking into Tim’s mouth, twisting Tim’s tongue with his in a sinuous dance. Their teeth knock once in their clumsy enthusiasm, and they pull away briefly to laugh.

Danny swipes the moisture from Tim’s lips with a thumb, which Tim chases with his tongue. Danny moans at the omega as Tim sucks that digit into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it. “So soon?” Danny gasps, breathless. His other hand grips Tim’s hip, the cold a sharp contrast to Tim’s increasing heat. “Sure you don’t need a break?”

Tim releases Danny’s finger with a wet pop that makes Danny shiver and moan again. “Are you asking that because you need the break?” Tim asks, voice husky. He ducks his head to press a wet kiss to Danny’s exposed clavicle.

Tim can feel the rumble in Danny’s chest as he chuckles. “Nah, I can keep going. Ghost stamina is no joke. I just wanted to…mm check…”

Tim pulls himself up and claims Danny’s mouth again, deepening the kiss until Danny is shuddering against him.

Tim’s hand curls against Danny’s hip, thumb stroking slowly over the jut of bone before slipping higher, savoring the cold skin beneath his palm. Danny trembles. Tim tilts his head, chasing the taste of him, letting his omega revel in the raw heat under Tim’s skin and the steady press of Danny’s body against his.

Danny shifts closer, bracing one hand in the velvet beside Tim’s hip while keeping the other tight on his jaw, holding him still for another claiming kiss. Their mouths move together with increasing hunger, lips dragging wetly, tongues tangling until both of them are panting into each other. Tim makes a sound low in his throat, half purr, half moan, and Danny swallows it down like it belongs to him.

The omega in him purrs louder, vibrating through his chest and into Danny’s cold body. Encouraged, Tim tugs again at the waistband of Danny’s pajama pants, this time teasing his fingers just beneath before flattening his palm to Danny’s side. The icy skin is so drastically different from Tim’s that it shocks him, a jolt that makes the heat in his belly coil tighter.

Danny gasps and grins into the kiss, lips curving. “Looking for something?” he practically purrs, nipping Tim’s lip with a gentle fang.

Tim growls playfully, marvelling at the lightness in his chest. “I can think of a little something.”

“Little?” Danny growls back, mock-outraged, then breaks off, throws his head back, and laughs. “Sorry, sorry… I didn’t mean…” He keeps chuckling, having to throw back his arms and brace himself against the nest under him so he doesn't fall over. “I just…” He wheezes. His chest shudders with the force of his laughter.

Tim rolls his eyes. His omega is a little upset to have Danny let go of him, but mostly he’s happy to see his Alpha so light and carefree. It’s such a difference to the cold, “indifferent” mask the other wore when they first started journeying together. And after their conversation... You’re my Robin. Tim purrs.

Still… the fire in Tim’s gut was starting to become uncomfortable. He ducks his head down and drags his small omegan fangs down the length of Danny’s neck, following it with his tongue.

Danny shivers and grunts. He pulls up a hand and clasps onto Tim’s hip.

Tim smirks against Danny’s throat, savoring the shiver he’s coaxed out of him. He traces the sharp line of collarbone with slow, deliberate licks, tasting the tang of frost that clings to Danny’s skin. His lips map every ridge and hollow, teeth scraping lightly when he finds a spot that makes Danny’s breath stutter.

He inches lower, kissing down the pale column of Danny’s chest. He noses along a chilled pec, flicks his tongue against the hardened nub he finds there, and then lingers, swirling his tongue around it and catching the peak gently between his teeth. Danny jerks under him with a sharp gasp, the hiss breaking into a shaky moan as Tim alternates teasing licks and light nips. He suckles just enough to draw another helpless sound, feeling Danny’s excitement growing against the front of his pajama pants. Tim’s omega purrs louder, delighted with the proof of how much effect he has, with the way Danny’s hand tightens on his hip and accidentally pricks Tim with cold-tipped claws.

Velvet brushes against Tim’s knees as he shifts lower in the nest, using the soft bedding as anchor while he works his way down. He kisses a path over Danny’s sternum, down the center of his abdomen, pausing to trace each line of muscle with tongue and lips. Danny’s glow brightens above him, bathing the chamber in shifting auroras that pulse with every shaky inhale he takes.

Danny tries to quip something—Tim feels the hitch of his chest, the start of words—but it dissolves into a groan as Tim’s mouth claims the hollow just above his waistband. Tim smiles into the kiss there, lips parting, tongue sliding hot and wet over cold skin. His fingers hook into the edge of Danny’s pajama pants, tugging them down just a fraction, exposing more of the chilled skin beneath.

“Tim, Ancients,” Danny gasps. 

The scent of ozone and cold intensified the lower he got, mingling with Tim’s own honey-sweet heat pheromones. He pressed his face against Danny’s abdomen, breathing deeply as his omega purred with possessive delight.

“You smell good,” Tim murmured against Danny, his voice thick with need. He traced the line of hair leading down to Danny's waistband with his tongue, delighting in the shudder it causes.

Heat coiled tighter in Tim’s belly, demanding attention. He nipped lightly at Danny’s hipbone, his other hand sliding down his own body, fingers slipping between his slick folds to find his dick already swollen and throbbing. He circled it slowly, moaning softly against Danny’s skin as pleasure sparked through him. His inner walls clenched around nothing, craving the stretch of Danny’s cock again.

Tim’s hips rocked instinctively, grinding against his own fingers as he teased himself. He could feel Danny’s gaze burning into him, could hear the hitch in his breath above him. The knowledge that Danny was watching, that he was affecting him this much, only fueled Tim’s need. His omega preened under the attention.

Tim’s fingers dipped lower, sliding through his slickness to find his entrance. He pressed two fingers inside himself slowly, moaning at the stretch. He was still loose from earlier, but the sensation was still intense. He pumped his fingers in and out, curling them to find that spot inside him that made his vision blur.

He glanced up at Danny through hooded eyes, his lips swollen and wet. Danny’s expression was rapt, his eyes dark with desire as he watched Tim finger himself. His hand tightened on Tim’s hip, claws pricking lightly.

Tim pulled his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his lips. He sucked them clean, tasting himself as he maintained eye contact with Danny. The ghost’s chest heaved, his glow pulsing brighter.

Tim grinned wickedly, lowering himself further. He hooked his fingers into Danny’s pajama pants and tugged them down, freeing Danny’s cock. It stood proudly, already slick with pre-cum, glowing faintly with ectoplasmic energy. Tim’s mouth watered at the sight.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the cold ectoplasm beading the slit. Tim hummed appreciatively, wrapping his lips around the head and sucking gently.

Danny threw his head back with a choked gasp, the tendons in his neck standing out as Tim’s tongue flickered over his sensitive tip. His hand shot out, fingers tangling in Tim’s messy hair, gripping the nape of his neck—not painfully, but with a firm, grounding pressure that made Tim freeze for a heartbeat. It was possessive, anchoring, sending a jolt of pure heat straight to Tim’s core.

A sharp, involuntary whine tore from Tim’s throat, muffled against Danny’s cock as he instinctively pressed his head into the ghost’s hand. The claiming grip on his scruff sent sparks skittering down his spine—a primal omega response to the touch that screamed safe, wanted, owned. He leaned into it, hips rocking helplessly, thighs rubbing together as he chased friction against the velvet nest beneath him.

As Tim thrust his hips fruitlessly, he bobbed his head in time with the movement, taking more of Danny each time. He slid a hand down to cup Danny’s balls, rolling them gently in his palm. Danny cursed above him, his hips thrusting shallowly into Tim’s mouth.

Tim relaxed his throat, letting Danny slide deeper until his nose pressed against Danny’s abdomen. He held there for a moment, breathing through his nose, before pulling back slowly.

He repeated the motion, establishing a rhythm. His hand wrapped around the base of Danny’s cock, stroking in time with his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the shaft on each upstroke, teasing the sensitive underside.

Danny’s breathing grew ragged, his hips rocking gently into Tim’s mouth. “Fuck, Tim,” he gasped, his voice strained. “So good.”

Tim moaned around Danny’s cock, the vibration making Danny curse and thrust at an awkward angle. Tim gagged a little and coughed, having to pull himself off to breathe, a string of moisture connecting Tim's lips with the head of Danny's cock. He gasped for air, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were slightly watery, but he grinned up at Danny.

Danny looked wrecked, his hair mussed, his eyes glowing fiercely. “You okay?” he asked, concern warring with desire in his voice.

Tim nodded, catching his breath. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Just... need more."

Tim’s hands pressed firmly against Danny’s abdomen—not shoving, but insistent. Danny yielded instantly, lowering himself onto his back against the velvet nest, his glowing eyes locked on Tim’s flushed face. Without breaking eye contact, Tim leaned down, dragging his cheek along Danny’s cock—a rough, possessive caress—then crawled higher, rubbing his sweat-slicked chest against the cool length, his peaked nipples scraping sensitive skin. He arched his back, grinding his stomach down next, muscles trembling over Danny’s shaft, before finally lifting his hips to slide his dripping folds along it, slow and torturous.

Every inch of contact sent shivers and gasps through them both.

Tim’s gaze locked onto Danny’s face, drinking in the raw hunger etched there—the parted lips, the dilated green eyes, the faint tremor in the ghost’s hands as they hovered near Tim’s hips. Good, Tim thought hazily, perfect. He slowed his grinding, savoring Danny’s moan, the way the star in his chest pulsed brighter green beneath Tim’s heat. He yearned to rush, to impale himself and lock himself on Danny's knot, but the power in Danny’s rapt expression was intoxicating. So he teased instead, dragging his wet folds along the underside of Danny’s cock, a low, needy whine escaping him as he felt it twitch against his own, smaller dick. 

Danny’s groan was tortured. “Fuck, Tim,” Danny choked out, fingers finally gripping onto Tim’s hips—not to guide, but to anchor himself as Tim’s slow, deliberate teasing continued. Tim reveled in the control, in the way Danny’s ectoplasm flickered wildly beneath him, casting emerald shadows across the rumpled velvet. He dragged himself back up Danny’s cock, letting the slick head catch against his entrance for a tantalizing second before sliding away again, drawing another ragged gasp from Danny.

Tim’s own breath hitched; the tease was agony, but Danny’s expression—eyes dark with want, lips bitten raw—was worth it. He leaned down, brushing his lips against Danny’s ear. “Is there something you want, Alpha?” he whispered, voice wrecked.

“You’re playing with fire, birdie,” Danny rasped, his voice thick with static. His grip tightened on Tim’s hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh above the jut of bone, only just stopping from hurting Tim with his claws. The low thrum of his core intensified, a counterpoint to the frantic pulse Tim could feel beneath his own skin. Danny’s gaze dropped pointedly to where Tim’s slick was soaking him, then dragged slowly back up Tim's flushed body to meet his eyes. The want in that look sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through Tim. 

He couldn't take anymore teasing. Tim rocked his hips up to Danny's tip, letting the head catch on his entrance. He paused, breathing shallowly, staring down at Danny. "Alpha," Tim moaned, voice trembling with need. "Say you want me."

Danny’s eyes blazed. “Always,” he growled through the deep purr of his core. His hands slid from Tim’s hips to cup his ass, dragging Tim down, impaling him in one smooth thrust.

Tim cried out, back arching as he was filled completely, the stretch deliciously intense.

Danny held him there, buried deep, his hands kneading Tim's ass cheeks.

Tim threw his head back, panting at the ceiling, his slick soaking Danny's lap. He felt so full, stretched around Danny's cock. Slowly, experimentally, he clenched around him, grinding his hips in a slow circle. Danny groaned, claws nipping Tim's ass as his hands squeezed.

Tim started to move, lifting himself up until only the tip remained inside, then sinking back down. He set a slow, grinding pace, savoring the drag of Danny inside him. Each downward thrust drew a soft gasp from Tim, each upward lift a needy whimper. He braced his hands on Danny's chest, fingers digging into cool ectoplasm as he rode him. Danny watched him, eyes glowing fiercely, hands gripping Tim's hips as he helped guide his rhythm. Tim leaned forward, pressing his chest against Danny's, grinding his hips in tight circles. 

Danny’s hands slid up Tim’s sides, tracing the frantic rise and fall of his ribs, thumbs brushing the sensitive undersides of Tim’s pecs.

“I could stay like this forever," Tim gasped.

Danny’s chuckle was rough. “You’d get bored, detective.” His thumbs circled Tim’s nipples, drawing out a moan. “Besides,” he added, his hips lifting slightly, grinding deeper, “I like watching you come undone.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “My Robin.”

The words, the possessive claim, sent Tim's omega into a purring frenzy. Alpha. Mate. Mine.

Danny’s fingers continued upwards until they tangled gently in Tim’s sweat-damp locks, pulling him down until their foreheads touched. 

The ghost’s eyes were impossibly close, swirling pools of Lazarus green reflecting Tim’s own flushed, needy expression. “Omega,” Danny breathed, the words ghosting over Tim’s lips.

Tim shuddered, pressing his forehead harder against Danny’s, a low, continuous purr rumbling through his chest. He needed...

Tim surged forward, capturing Danny’s mouth in a desperate, messy kiss.

Their tongues tangled, hot and demanding. Danny’s hands slid back down Tim’s spine, gripping his hips firmly as he began thrusting upwards in earnest, meeting Tim’s downward grind with powerful surges. The slow, sensual rhythm shattered into something urgent, primal. Tim cried out into Danny’s mouth, his body arching with each deep thrust. The velvet beneath his knees felt slick with sweat and slick. Tim broke their kiss, gasping for air, his head falling back. His eyes squeezed shut, lashes dark against flushed cheeks, lost in the sensation. His hands scrabbled against Danny’s chest, seeking purchase on the cool, unyielding ectoplasm. Every nerve ending felt electrified, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in his belly. His thighs trembled, muscles straining, slick dripping onto Danny’s abdomen. He could feel Danny’s cock swelling slightly at the base, the beginnings of a knot. The omega keened, clenching desperately around that promise. “Close,” Tim gasped, the word barely audible over the wet sounds of their joining. “Danny… Alpha… please…”

Danny’s answering groan was guttural. His hand slid from Tim’s waist, fingers tracing a blazing path down the omega’s trembling stomach. His calloused thumb found its mark--the slick, swollen head of Tim’s cock, dripping pre-cum and straining against his belly.

Danny’s thumb pressed down hard, rubbing rough circles over Tim’s sensitive slit. The sudden spike of pain-pleasure ripped a sharp cry from Tim’s throat—too much, too rough, a shockwave tearing through his haze of bliss.  “D-Danny—!” he cried out, his voice breaking, hips stuttering as the growing knot tugged insistently at his rim. His body seized, back arching as his vision whited out. He came hard, a guttural sob tearing free as spurts of cum splattered across Danny’s hand and chest.

The intense clenching of Tim’s climax triggered Danny’s knot. It surged, thickening impossibly fast inside Tim, locking them together with a final, deep thrust from Danny that punched the air from Tim’s lungs. "Tim!" Danny shouted, his release hitting Tim's cervix in pulses of shocking cold.

Tim collapsed forward onto Danny’s chest, panting and trembling, his inner walls clenching with each twitch of Danny inside of him, flooding him with waves of that glowing cum. Tears pricked his eyes—pain and pleasure indistinguishable in the aftershocks. Danny’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, a low, resonant purr vibrating through Tim’s entire being as he murmured soothing nonsense against Tim’s sweat-damp hair. Tim buried his face in the crook of Danny’s neck, breathing Danny's scent. 

He felt Danny’s lips press softly against his temple, the purr deepening. Tim’s fingers curled weakly against Danny’s chest, feeling the thrum of that little star beneath his ribcage where a heartbeat should be. Tim’s eyelids fluttered shut. He felt boneless, anchored down by Danny’s knot and the comforting weight of Danny’s arms. The scent of sex, ozone, and Danny’s unique signature filled his senses, inhuman yet strangely soothing. A soft sigh escaped him, his body relaxing completely against Danny’s chest. The purr deepened, wrapping around him like a warm blanket. 

Tim’s trembling gradually subsided into exhausted shivers, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated as he lay draped over Danny, the ghost’s cool ectoplasm soothing Tim's overheated body. Danny’s knot remained firmly locked inside him, a persistent, grounding pressure that made Tim’s inner omega feel safe and cared for.

Danny’s hand, still resting possessively on Tim’s hip, softened its grip, clawtips tracing idle circles on Tim’s overheated skin. Tim nuzzled deeper into Danny’s neck, basking in the heady scent of their combined scents. He felt Danny shift slightly beneath him, adjusting their position to cradle Tim more comfortably against his chest. One hand rose to gently card through Tim’s messy hair, fingers smoothing damp strands away from his forehead. The touch was tender, grounding.

Tim’s fingers uncurled from their death grip on Danny’s shoulders, instead tracing lazy constellations over the ghost’s freckles. He sighed, a soft, contented sound that seemed to melt the last of his tension. His eyelids felt heavy, but he fought to keep them open, wanting to see Danny’s face. He shifted his hips experimentally, a faint whimper escaping him at the persistent stretch, but it lacked the frantic edge of before. He nuzzled Danny’s jawline, breathing in deeply, the ghost’s scent calming the lingering tremors of his heat. “Don’t wanna move.”

Danny’s thumb brushed away a stray tear track on Tim’s flushed cheek. His free hand slid slowly down Tim’s spine, tracing the knobs of his vertebrae with a feather-light touch, soothing the omega’s exhausted muscles. "Don't have to. Not for a bit, anyway," he rumbled back.

Tim hummed softly, a drowsy sound. Exhaustion washed over him in waves, pulling him into a blissful doze. Time blurred—minutes or hours, he couldn’t tell—until he felt it: the easing pressure as Danny’s knot softened, releasing its hold on Tim without pulling away.

Tim’s eyes snapped open, bleary but instantly alert, as he felt Danny’s hips shift subtly beneath him—the ghost’s softening cock beginning to withdraw. A low, instinctive growl rumbled in Tim’s chest, raw and possessive, startling even himself. Before Danny could fully pull away, Tim’s inner muscles clenched down hard, a desperate, involuntary spasm locking Danny inside him again. He buried his face against Danny’s shoulder, the growl dissolving into a muffled whine. “No,” he mumbled against cool skin, his voice thick with sleep and lingering heat haze. His fingers dug possessively into Danny’s biceps, anchoring him. “Stay.”

A low chuckle vibrated through Danny’s chest, warm. He turned his head, nuzzling Tim’s flushed cheek with his cool nose, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below Tim’s ear. “Easy, birdie,” he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble. “Not going anywhere.” His hand slid up Tim’s spine, fingers tangling gently in the omega’s messy hair. He pressed another soft kiss to Tim’s temple. “Still yours.”

Danny shifted, his movement careful and deliberate, just enough to create a sliver of space between their faces without breaking their intimate connection. His glowing green eyes, softer now but still intensely focused, searched Tim’s flushed, drowsy expression. A flicker of concern crossed his features.

His thumb brushed lightly over Tim’s lower belly, just above where their bodies were still joined. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with lingering static, “I didn’t hurt you, did I? I was pretty rough on your t-dick there at the end.” 

Tim stilled, brow furrowing slightly. His eyes, half-mast and still hazy from his sated heat, locked onto Danny’s face. “T-dick?” he slurred.

The term echoed strangely in his mind, utterly unfamiliar. He’d cataloged countless anatomical terms in his training, but this one wasn’t in any Gotham Academy biology textbook or League medical database he’d accessed. ‘Dick’, he understood just fine, at least Tim thinks he does. But what was the ‘T’? If it was a demeaning term like ‘cocklet’ that Alphas liked to use to make fun of male omegas, he might end up having to slap some sense into the ghost.

Still…he should probably get clarification before jumping to conclusions. Take that, Bat-paranoia.

A soft, questioning hum travelled up his throat as he tilted his head slightly, his fingers unconsciously tightening their grip on Danny’s bicep. “What… do you mean?” he mumbled, the confusion clear despite his exhaustion. “T-dick? Never heard that one.” He shifted minutely, a faint wince crossing his features as the movement reminded him of their intimate connection, but kept his focus on Danny.

Danny’s eyes widened fractionally, the soft green glow flickering with sudden alarm. He visibly tensed beneath Tim, the low purr stuttering into silence. “Oh, shit—sorry, I just assumed—” he stammered, his voice losing its spectral resonance, sounding startlingly young and flustered. His hand, which had been tracing soothing circles on Tim’s hip, lifted awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to— I thought, since you’re like me and… uh… anatomy…” He trailed off, looking genuinely mortified, the Ghost King facade crumbling entirely under the weight of his own awkward assumption. His gaze darted away, then back to Tim’s face, radiating apology. “Forget I said anything, I shouldn’t have—”

Tim’s finger pressed firmly against Danny’s lips, silencing the flustered apology. His inner muscles clenched possessively around Danny’s softening cock still nestled within him, a deliberate, grounding pressure that drew a sharp, involuntary gasp from the ghost. “Shush,” Tim murmured, his voice low and surprisingly steady despite the lingering haze. His blue eyes, clearer now, held Danny’s gaze with curiosity, his expression open and unguarded. “I’m not mad, Casper. Just… confused. Explain it to me.” His thumb brushed lightly over Danny’s lower lip. “What exactly were you calling my ‘t-dick’?”

Danny visibly floundered, his ectoplasm flickering erratically like a faulty neon sign. He opened his mouth, closed it, then gestured vaguely downwards with his free hand. “It’s—well, it’s just… the… the thing? The sensitive one? Like, the one that gets… bigger? When you’re… you know…” His cheeks flushed an eerie, translucent green, the glow intensifying with his embarrassment. He huffed, a sharp burst of cold air that misted against Tim’s skin. “Ugh, words are hard! I just… Fuck, I can just show you.”

Danny gently eased Tim’s hips upwards, his movements careful but insistent. As his softening cock finally slid free with a slick, wet sound, Tim couldn’t suppress a sharp, needy whine, his body instinctively curling inward at the sudden emptiness. “Sorry, sorry,” Danny murmured instantly, his cool hands soothing Tim’s trembling thighs as he shifted back and set Tim down onto the nest. He put a small, deliberate distance between them on the rumpled velvet. The ghost's expression was a mix of apology and nervous determination, the light in his eyes flickering intensely. “It’s just… I’ve been meaning to show you this, and… well.” He swallowed, the sound unnervingly human. “No time like the present? Just… don’t freak out?” His voice was tight with uncharacteristic anxiety.

Tim watched, frozen and wide-eyed, as a brilliant white ring of light flashed around Danny’s waist, splitting him cleanly in two. It expanded outward with a soft, resonant hum, momentarily blinding Tim. He flinched back, a startled gasp catching in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs.

The light pulsed once, twice, then collapsed inward with a sound like shattering glass—and where Phantom had been, slumped awkwardly on the nest, was a boy. A living boy. Pale skin flushed pink, messy black hair instead of white, and pale blue eyes wide with apprehension. The air filled with the scent of ozone fading into something warm and human—sweat, cheap soap, and the faint tang of worry.

Tim stared, utterly speechless, his mind scrambling to process the impossible shift.

The boy—Danny?—raised a trembling hand in a hesitant, awkward wave. A nervous, lopsided smile flickered across his face, vanishing almost instantly. "Hi?" he tried, his voice the same as Phantom's yet stripped of his spectral echo, sounding startlingly young and vulnerable. He shifted uncomfortably on the velvet, reaching up to tug on the collar of a shirt that wasn't on his naked body. His cheeks flushed a deeper red as he glanced down at himself, avoiding Tim’s stunned gaze. "Uh... surprise?" He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his messy black hair. "I know this is... a lot. And weird. Really, really weird." His voice cracked slightly on the last word, thick with embarrassment. "I should’ve told you sooner. Way sooner. Like, right after the whole... summoning thing."

Tim leaned forward slowly, the velvet nest shifting beneath him as he braced one hand on the rumpled fabric. His blue eyes narrowed, sharpening with sudden, intense focus—the haze of heat and exhaustion momentarily burned away by sheer, analytical curiosity. His gaze swept over the boy’s flushed face, the pulse visibly fluttering in his throat, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

"You look..." Tim murmured, devoid of panic but disbelieving. "Human. Alive."

He reached out, his fingers hovering just inches from Danny’s cheek, not quite touching. His eyes flicked down to Danny’s chest, then back up, locking onto those ice blue eyes that were so startlingly different from Phantom’s luminous green.

Danny flinched slightly at the intensity of Tim’s scrutiny, his shoulders hunching as if trying to make himself smaller. He offered a weak, crooked grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, his fingers twisting nervously in the velvet beneath him. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice unsteady without its ghostly resonance. "Surprise! I’m... well, I’m both. Half ghost, half human. We call it a 'Halfa' back home." He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "Been like this since... since the accident." He gestured vaguely at his own chest, his hand trembling. "Phantom’s the ghost half. This half is… well. I’m... Danny Fenton. Just... Danny. Really."

Tim’s gaze softened, the sharp edges of his analytical focus melting into something quieter.

He shifted closer on the velvet, the movement slow and deliberate, his own nakedness forgotten in the face of Danny’s raw vulnerability. His hand lifted again, trembling faintly, fingers hovering just a breath away from Danny’s flushed, human cheek. The warmth radiating from Danny’s skin was palpable, a stark contrast to Phantom’s cool ectoplasm.

Tim’s voice, when it came, was a hushed whisper, thick with wonder and a hesitant ache. "Can I...?" he murmured, his blue eyes searching Danny’s, the question hanging unfinished but clear.

Danny swallowed, throat clicking loudly. He gave a jerky, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes wide and fixed on Tim’s face, apprehension warring with a desperate need for acceptance. 

Tim’s fingers finally made contact, feather-light at first, tracing the curve of Danny’s jaw. He cataloged the differences with tactile reverence: the surprising warmth of living skin, the faint roughness of barely-there stubble shadowing his upper lip and chin—too sparse for a proper beard, just the rasp of unshaven growth. His thumb brushed the shell of Danny’s ear, tracing its rounded, human shape instead of Phantom’s pointed tip. A soft, awed breath escaped Tim. He breathed in Danny's scent. It was Phantom's, only more subtle. Ice and electricity muted into a milder, beta-like scent. Tim purred, his omega still recognizing Danny despite him no longer ringing as Alpha to his biology.

Leaning forward slowly, Tim closed the small distance between them. His lips brushed against Danny’s—warm, soft, and startlingly human. He lingered for a moment, tasting the faint salt of sweat and the tang of Danny’s earlier embarrassment. When he pulled back, his eyes held Danny’s, bright with understanding and a soft, almost shy wonder. "Thank you," Tim whispered, his voice husky but steady. "For trusting me with this." His thumb traced Danny’s lower lip, mirroring the gesture he’d made to Phantom earlier. "Danny Fenton."

Because Tim could see it clearly—this new, secret form. It was a vulnerability. A weakness of the Ghost King. And yet, here Danny was, showing it to Tim. Trusting the omega with his Achilles’ Heel.

Danny shuddered violently, a full-body tremor that rippled through him like an electric current. "Tim," he choked out.

Tim's lips curved into a soft, reassuring smile as he felt Danny tremble beneath his touch, his fingers tracing a deliberate path down the warm column of Danny's throat—so different from Phantom's cool, unyielding ectoplasm. He mapped the slope of Danny's shoulders, cataloging the subtle difference from ghost to human, the way muscle and bone felt grounded and real under living skin. His hands drifted lower, palms skimming over the rapid flutter of Danny's heartbeat against his ribs, then stilled completely when they reached the unexpected swell of soft tissue—two small, tender mounds that fit perfectly in his cupped hands. Tim's breath hitched, his thumbs brushing feather-light circles over the sensitive peaks.

Danny's chest shook with an unsteady laugh, breathless and tinged with nerves. "Ah, yeah," he rasped, his voice cracking as Tim's thumbs circled again, sending a visible shiver down his spine. "Surprise?"

But Tim shook his head slowly, his gaze unwavering as it slid lower—past the trembling stomach, past the soft swell of hips, down to where Danny's thighs pressed together tightly. His eyes traced the path with intense focus, not predatory but profoundly curious, like an explorer mapping uncharted territory. His fingers followed his gaze, drifting lower still, skimming the sensitive skin of Danny's inner thighs, feeling the muscles tense and jump beneath his touch. 

"You’re so different in this form," Tim whispered. His knuckles brushed against the soft, dark curls between Danny's legs, his touch lingering, questioning. "Can I...?"

Danny hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. Their eyes met, Danny’s uncertain gaze looking between Tim’s eyes, seeming to look for something.

Swallowing hard, Danny shifted slightly on the velvet, the movement awkward but deliberate. He parted his legs slowly, revealing himself fully to Tim’s searching eyes. His cheeks flamed crimson, but he held Tim’s gaze, a silent invitation.

Tim’s breath hitched audibly. Nestled within the dark curls, Danny’s sex parted into pink folds shockingly similar to Tim’s own—but what startled Tim most was the sheer amount of soft, plush flesh surrounding the cock, almost swallowing it whole.

Tim’s eyes widened, flicking between Danny’s face and the intimate revelation, a soft gasp escaping him. "Oh," he breathed, the sound filled with startled awe. "You look...like me."

Danny managed a weak, crooked smile, his trembling hand reaching down and cupping the thick, oddly shaped cock and curling his fingers around it. "So this," he murmured, his voice thick with nerves, "this is what I meant by 't-dick'." He watched Tim's face, searching for some kind of reaction, but finding only Tim’s rapt fascination. "It's... it's, uh. What happened when I started taking T. I mean... testosterone."

"Testosterone?" Tim perked up, interested. "You mean as a supplement?"

Danny nods. "Yeah. I give it to myself regularly in shot form. It... lowers my voice, enlarges my dick area, helps me grow hair everywhere..."

"Fascinating," Tim breathes, in awe. "I'd heard of universes with singular gender systems using estrogen and testosterone to help with gender dysphoria. But I've never seen it in person." He traces a gentle finger along Danny's inner thigh, feeling the soft skin tremble. "Can I touch you there?" Danny gives a jerky nod, biting his lip as Tim's fingers brush the sensitive outer lips, exploring with reverent curiosity. "So soft," Tim murmurs, his thumb circling the twitching cock nestled within. "And you call it your t-dick?"

Danny shudders, a soft gasp escaping him. "Y-yeah. That's it."

"Am I right to assume that your universe has an endosex human race?"

Danny rapidly blinks. "A what?" he asked, baffled.

Tim chuckled, his fingers still tracing the delicate folds surrounding Danny's t-dick with feather-light touches. "Endosex," he repeated, his voice low and thoughtful. "Bodies with a single set of sexual organs. Male, female... For the most part, anyway. In my universe, humans are largely intersex, with endosex individuals being rare. It's why, in our universe, we don't learn what our secondary gender is until we present. Even Alphas have vaginas and ovaries, as much as they hate to admit it, though males tend to reabsorb them back into their bodies after presenting. But your universe... you don't have secondary genders either, right?"

Danny nodded, his breath hitching as Tim's thumb brushed the swollen tip of his t-dick. "Yeah. But some of us... we don't feel right in the bodies we're born with. So we take supplements and get surgeries done so that we can feel...normal. Correct."

Tim hummed, his eyes alight with fascination. "So this," he murmured, circling the large sensitive nub, "is your t-dick. And this," his fingers dipped lower, tracing the soft, plush entrance hidden beneath, "is your cunt?"

Danny shuddered violently, a soft whine escaping him. "Call it... call it my hole, please," he breathed. "But yeah. That's... that's me."

Tim tilts his head and smiles. "Hm. No wonder you were so surprised by the idea of getting me pregnant earlier." He traces the soft, wet entrance with a gentle fingertip, feeling Danny tremble. "But you do have this gorgeous t-dick and hole." His gaze lifts to Danny's flushed face, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to taste you. Can I?"

Danny whines and his blush goes all the way down to his chest. "We just finished—You're insatiable!" he protests weakly, but his legs fall open wider obligingly.

Tim grins and lowers himself between Danny's thighs, his nose brushing the soft curls as he inhales deeply. "You smell different like this," he murmurs, nuzzling the plush folds. "Warmer. Sweeter." Then his tongue flicks out, tracing the swollen outer lips before dipping inside to taste the slick gathering there.

Danny gasps and arches off the velvet, his hands flying to Tim's hair. "Fuck, Tim—!" His voice cracks, human and vulnerable and so different from Phantom's.

Tim hums approvingly, his tongue swirling around Danny's t-dick before sucking it gently into his mouth. He savors the soft, muffled cries above him, the way Danny's thighs tremble against his shoulders. The taste is earthy and sweet—warmer than ectoplasm, but still with that tang of ice. Tim moans around him, sending vibrations that make Danny jerk and whimper. He laps deeper, exploring the wet heat of Danny's hole with broad, slow strokes. So responsive, Tim thinks, drunk on the power of reducing the Ghost King to a trembling, pleading mess. He presses his tongue inside, relishing the tight clutch of muscle around him. Danny's fingers tighten in his hair, not pulling away but holding on, anchoring himself as Tim devours him.

"Please," Danny chokes out, his voice ragged. "Don't stop—"

Tim hums, the vibration sending sparks through Danny's t-dick as he presses his tongue deeper into that slick, clutching heat. He drinks in Danny's gasps and whimpers, the way his human body arches and trembles beneath him. Tim's fingers dig into Danny's thighs, holding him open as he explores every fold and sensitive ridge with slow, deliberate strokes. The taste is intoxicating—salt and musk and something uniquely Danny. Tim moans against him, the sound muffled by soft flesh, and Danny cries out, his hips lifting off the velvet to chase Tim's mouth.

Tim can't help but trace his free hand down his own abdomen, fingers slipping through slick folds to find his entrance, still slick with Danny's cum. He presses two fingers inside himself easily, moaning around Danny's t-dick as he thrusts into himself slowly, mirroring the rhythm of his tongue fucking Danny. The dual sensations—Danny's taste, his own fullness—push him higher. He curls his fingers inside himself, seeking that sweet spot, while his tongue presses deep against Danny's inner walls.

Tim drags his tongue upward in one long, slow lick, tracing the swollen seam of Danny's folds until he reaches the stiff t-dick at the top. He pauses, blowing a soft puff of air over the wet, sensitive head, watching it twitch before sealing his lips around it and suckling gently, like he's savoring a treat. Danny's entire body jolts, a sharp cry tearing from his throat as his hands fist in Tim's hair, pulling him closer. Tim responds with a low, possessive growl vibrating against Danny's skin, his tongue flicking rapidly over the engorged tip while his fingers slide down to circle Danny's slick entrance, teasing but not entering. "T-Tim—" Danny gasps, his voice cracking, "oh god, oh Ancients—" He arches, trembling, his breath coming in ragged pants as Tim works him with relentless focus, drowning in the taste and feel of him.

Mine, Tim’s omega thinks fiercely, my Mate.

The thought drives Tim wild. He pulls his fingers out of himself with a wet sound, ignoring the ache of emptiness, and presses the two slick digits against Danny's fluttering hole. "Open for me," he murmurs, the command rough against Danny's skin before he pushes inside slowly, feeling the tight, hot clutch of him. Danny keens, his hips lifting off the velvet to meet Tim's thrusting fingers, his body yielding beautifully. Tim curls his fingers, searching, and Danny shouts when he finds that spot inside—the rough, textured patch that makes Danny convulse, his t-dick pulsing against Tim's mouth. "There! Right there—please!" Danny sobs, his thighs clamping around Tim's head as he grinds down shamelessly onto Tim's mouth and fingers, lost to the sensation.

Tim's omega growls, pleased. But he wants more.

He pulls himself free and crawls up Danny's body, kissing up as he goes. He pauses to suck a bruise into Danny's throat, right over his frantic pulse. "Can I keep going?" he gasps into Danny's mouth, parting his legs so their hips align. Danny's t-dick is an awkward shape, but it was definitely long and thick enough for penetration, Tim thinks. "I need you inside me, Danny. Please." His voice cracks with heat-drunk need. "I need to feel you." His cock is already smearing pre-cum onto Danny's crotch.

Danny trembles with a moan. "You sure?" he asks, his voice rough with desire. "I'm... I'm not built like before."

"Yes," Tim breathes. "I need you. All of you. Every bit of you. Danny."

Danny's groan is desperate. He shifts, aligning his t-dick, much smaller than his ghost form's cock, with Tim's dripping entrance. "Like this?" he murmurs, pressing the tip against Tim's heat. He gasps as Tim's slick coats him, the sensation new and overwhelming. "Oh, fuck, Tim—you're so wet." His hips jerk involuntarily, pushing just the head inside.

Tim shudders and moans, rocking his hips to take more. "Yes! Just like that," he gasps. "Feels... different. Good." His inner muscles flutter around the unfamiliar shape, pulling Danny deeper. He buries his face in Danny's neck, inhaling the warm, human scent mixed with faint ectoplasm. "You're so warm like this," he murmurs, nipping at Danny's pulse point. "Keep going, please. All the way."

Danny moans, thrusting his hips upward, sinking into Tim's heat. "Hot," he breathes, his voice strained. "So hot inside you." His hands grip Tim's ass, helping him sink down until their bodies are flush. Tim's inner walls clench rhythmically around him. "Okay?" Danny whispers, pressing a kiss to Tim's temple. "I know it's not a lot but..."

Tim whimpers, grinding down into the intrusion. "Perfect," he sighs, his body relaxing as he's filled. He starts to move, rolling his hips in slow, deep circles. "Your heartbeat," he murmurs against Danny's skin, feeling the rapid thrum against his lips. "I can feel it... inside me." He purrs, the sound vibrating through both of them.

Danny moans at the feeling, arching up to meet Tim's thrusts. "Fuck, Tim—" His hands slide up Tim's back, feeling the sweat-slick skin. "You feel amazing." He gasps as Tim clenches around his t-dick.

Tim throws his head back with a choked sob, his body trembling. He trails a hand down to his dick, only to have it batted away and replaced with Danny's grip. "Mine," Danny growls, his voice low and possessive. He strokes Tim firmly, thumb rubbing over the leaking tip. "Come for me, Tim. I want to feel you."

Tim wants to. He wants to so bad. Danny's not big in this form, but the intimacy is amazing. He wonders if Danny would let Tim fuck his hole, next. Either of his holes. All of his holes. It wasn't normal for an Omega to want sex outside of getting knotted during their heat, but dammit if Tim didn't yearn for it. Even if he couldn't cum without...

Tim sobs. "I can't, I can't. Not without—" His hips stutter, grinding desperately against Danny. "Need you deeper." He claws at Danny's shoulders, his breath ragged. "Please, Danny. I can't cum without a knot. I need a knot."

Danny growls, the sound just like Phantom's.

Danny flips them, pinning Tim down into the velvet. He hooks Tim's legs over his shoulders, blue eyes almost swallowed by his dilated pupils. "I can do deeper," he rasps, grinding his t-dick into Tim's cunt.

There isn't enough dick in Danny's human form to make things much deeper, though, but before Tim can ask what he meant--white rings flash, Danny's cock drilling deeper and colder as he transforms back into Phantom. "Better?" he asks, his voice echoing with power. He thrusts hard, filling Tim completely.

Tim cries out, arching off the bed as the icy intrusion bumps against his womb. "Danny!" he cries, his body convulsing around him. "Yes! Oh god, yes!" He claws at Danny's back, pulling him closer. "Don't stop!"

Danny growls, burying his face in Tim's neck. His thrusts become deeper, harder, chasing Tim's pleasure. He feels Tim tightening around him, the heat building. "Cum for me," he Commands.

Tim arches off the nest, his climax ripping through him violently. He cries out Danny's name, his body convulsing as he spills between them, painting their stomachs with streaks of white. Danny groans, his thrusts turning erratic as Tim's inner walls milk him. "Tim," he gasps, burying his face in Tim's neck. "Oh god, Tim—" He shudders, his knot swelling rapidly at the base as he spills inside Tim. The sudden stretch makes Tim gasp, his body clamping down instinctively and he cums even harder.

Tim whimpers, trembling as Danny's knot locks them together again. He wraps his arms around Danny's shoulders, pulling him close, and nuzzles into Danny's neck, breathing in the familiar scent. Both Danny's human and ghost forms... Tim couldn't find himself choosing one over the other. They were both... "Danny." His eyelids flutter shut, his body relaxing completely against Danny's. "Mine. My Phantom. My Danny."

“Yours,” Danny purrs right back, nuzzling Tim. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, my Robin." He kisses Tim's forehead gently. "You’ll have to tell me to fuck off before I ever leave you."

Tim purrs, letting himself believe Danny…at least for the moment.