Work Text
Alphas were weak, needy, pathetic manchildren, always requiring the comforts of an Omega's bosom. Or maybe it was just Spectre who was like that. A weak, needy, and pathetic man child who at the end of a long day wanted nothing more than to latch onto his mate and suckle. Though in this instance, perhaps such selfishness could be forgiven. It had, indeed, been a long hard day but it had been a successful one. Five of the six Ignis remained so that was cause for celebration amongst the Knights of Hanoi’s ranks. Moreover, Spectre had survived that purge as well and was up and walking it off. Though he did have the broken nose to prove it and he should be lucky that he only had a broken nose after what he was put through in the Link VRAINS. It seemed such a topsy-turvy world that between the two of them, Spectre was the Alpha and Ryoken was the Omega. It was a turn of events and quirk of fate that none of them had been expecting, least of all themselves. Ryoken was the pedigree son of an Alpha who had expected his son to be an Alpha like him and all the other men in their patrilineal line. He was their leader and the inheritor of many, heavy legacies with a will like steel towards his piety. Surely that meant the pubescent transformation of “Alpha” was imminent once he had been crowned as Revolver within the echelon of their dirty deeds. But that was not the outcome that had ensued. The same could be said of Spectre. He was just some abandoned mutt with personality issues. Hot and cold, nurturing and solitary. He was just some kid with no expectation of greatness on him - not until he had been kidnapped, anyway and then afterwards, groomed for the role of second in command. That ordinary and forgettable facade about Spectre seemed to have destined him for Betahood. But that was not the outcome that had ensued. Such an outcome proving once again it was a one in three chance at the genetic lottery and that nothing truly influenced that placement. Between the two of them, Ryoken became the Omega and Spectre became the Alpha. After that, becoming a bonded pair was all too quick and easy with their demise looming in the shadow of the Tower of Hanoi. Live life fast and have some love in between the despair of what humanity had come to - or would come to - because of Kogami Kiyoshi’s actions. Speaking of, what a cruel man. He acted with the supposed blessing of the ends justifies the means but they really didn’t. That clear cut efficiency extended from his professional life and into his private life. He treated his own son, his flesh and blood, with the same clinical decision making: a game of level sum which was tilted against Ryoken’s favour at every turn. He wanted this - good grades, artistic vision, a scientific mind - and he was that - piety, pure obedience, a lack of conscience - and he got neither from Ryoken. Especially when he did not fill out as expected. His fangs didn’t come down, his hips widened instead. Ryoken did not follow in his Father’s footsteps as a scientist, a visionary, or an envoy of destruction nor as an Alpha, either. As a result of his father’s pervading prejudice, Ryoken’s Omega traits had become a point of contention. Spectre loved them, though. He loved Ryoken’s tits, his little Omega cock, the slick that he produced. All of his Omega body was not something to ge disgusted by but rather to adore and cherish. If that's any consolation prize to losing his Father's approval. It wasn’t so Ryoken did his best to at least fit the mould of a Beta. He was on all the pills and vitamins, scent blockers and more. He even wore a binder so as to conceal his breasts. It came with the added benefit of disguising his online and offline selves, Ryoken supposed but regardless of how he presented or where he fit into the dynamic, Spectre all but worshipped the ground that he walked on. Spectre would not have cared one way or another how Ryoken had come to be but it was apparent to Ryoken that the hyperlactation of an Omega was quite a benefit. “Please, please, Ryoken-sama.” Spectre begged as he canoodled and groped Ryoken from behind, kissing along the length of Ryoken’s shoulders. His lips ghosting the edge of the binder’s fabric and all of him getting in the way as Ryoken tried to undo the zip. “Yes, yes, it's fine, just give me a minute or better yet, stop grovelling and actually help.” Ryoken complained. “Ah, yes, of course.” The binder finally came undone and Ryoken’s tits fell out with a small bounce but this was just the beginning. His ability to lactate was not quite yet the magic faucet that Spectre imagined. Not until Ryoken was ever with child, and given who the two of them were, they had long forfeited the right to procreation. So first, Ryoken had to be stimulated to the point of milk production. An endeavour that Spectre would more than gladly undertake to get his dessert. He stripped down with no aplomb whilst Spectre got comfortable on the bed. He made a nest of pillows and beckoned Ryoken closer, into his embrace. Ryoken slotted in against Spectre’s chest and between his legs. He was so tender and needy at the same time. Spectre slid his prick into Ryoken’s pussy and hugged him tight around his waist, cuddling in and sighing as he got comfortable. Ryoken swallowed a lump in his throat. Spectre was warm but not yet hard. His knot hadn’t inflated yet but Ryoken figured that it wouldn’t take long at all before it thickened. “D-Do as you like with me.” Ryoken said. “With pleasure.” Spectre replied. He licked a stripe from Ryoken’s shoulder to up his neck. Ryoken winced slightly. They hadn’t even started but he was slobbering already, his cock beginning to perk up as it made a home inside of Ryoken’s pussy. Spectre reached out in front of Ryoken and began to grope him. He devoted all his attention to Ryoken’s body. His shoulders, his neck, his breasts. His hands were gardener’s hands. They were thick and steady Ryoken couldn’t have been in more capable care as Spectre got them both off from this. “Can you feel it?” Spectre asked, nibbling along Ryoken’s shoulders, licking over the light punctures. He was impatient. “My knot?” “Y-Yeah. I can.” Ryoken shuddered. It throbbed right behind him. Ryoken’s pussy tightened. His cocklet was pert but neglected. “Does it feel good?” Spectre asked. What a stupid question, Ryoken could have rolled his eyes but instead, he felt all of him ache for Spectre’s knot, to be bred by him. He was so close and yet so far, especially in his embrace, his hands still working him over in the hopes that it would produce milk, his nipples sore and tweaked. He was so close. He could feel it. His chest felt heavy, his brain hazy with horniness. Ryoken could hardly muster a reply as Spectre continued to lavish him with kissing, biting, and of course that blissful feeling of being so full with his knot. “It feels… It feels amazing.” Ryoken breathed. “I’m glad.” Spectre said. He sank his teeth in - hard - to Ryoken’s neck and shoulders whilst simultaneously pinching Ryoken’s nipple hard when it gave a squirt. Ryoken gasped, breath hitched and then transformed into a moan upon exhale as Spectre’s fingers rubbed into the fat of his breast. “Finally.” Spectre murmured, relishing the feeling of just a dribble of milk over his fingers. And that was just a dribble. Spectre released heady pheromones in response. He was hungry and driven deep with lust. He began to exude earthy smells of basil and petrichor. A non-suppressed would have gone into heat over it in an instant, Ryoken was certain. “I-I’ll turn around now.” Ryoken told him, and he turned his head slightly. Spectre met his suggestion with an eager kiss, “Please.” He let go just long enough to give Ryoken room to manoeuvre. Though it was difficult. Spectre shivered as Ryoken lifted himself off him. His knot throbbed hard and there was an old, archaic instinct telling him - begging him - to pin Ryoken down and put it in again, properly, but he resisted by sitting. Ryoken, meanwhile, felt like jelly as he wobbled around, turning on his knees before he slotted himself in Spectre again. “Oh thank goodness.” Spectre breathed ragged. “You are so…” Ryoken couldn’t find the word to admonish Spectre - or maybe he just couldn’t find it in him at all. Spectre sighed as he planted his face between Ryoken’s breasts. He buried his face in it, his patched up nose scratched against Ryoken’s skin. It was kind of ticklish, actually. Ryoken placed his hands on Spectre’s head. He began to card through his thick quaffs of silver hair. The strands felt greasy, however, damp from sweat but Ryoken didn’t mind. Spectre, meanwhile, placed his hands on Ryoken’s hips, holding him preciously: hard enough so as to not slip but not so hard that he would hurt. “Thank you for this meal, I’m in your care.” Spectre murmured. He latched onto Ryoken’s nipple and began to suckle. His mouth was warm and wet and incredibly reverent. He was so excited yet respectful. Ryoken was his mate, his master, his superior, his everything and those racing thoughts of love in every layer of their relationship conveyed with crystal clarity. Spectre drank eagerly. It wasn’t exactly some porno scenario of thick rivers of milk but it was more than good enough for him. He licked and sucked, relishing the taste of Ryoken’s milk that he had worked so hard to stimulate. His heart raced as his mind swayed between coherence and a daze. Ryoken languished in it, though. He let Spectre become all there was to him sensory wise: his scent, his feel, his everything, all of him. He let it all build up, until his chest ached and his pussy was sopping wet with slick arousal. “Aah, Ryoken-sama, your milk continues to be my favourite.” Spectre moaned. “Y-Your welcome.” Ryoken replied. Spectre’s cock rubbed against the inside of Ryoken’s leg. Pre-come smeared against Ryoken’s leg as he chewed his bottom lip with burgeoning desire. He wished, so bad, that Spectre’s cock was deep inside of him, knotting him and breeding him full. Ryoken salivated at the thought, at the fate of being turned into a baby-maker in a more normal and mundane scenario. Maybe one day, he and Spectre could have that, away from the shadow of his father and the havoc wreaked by the Ignis. Ah, what a shame, it could only ever be a wet dream but Ryoken dreamed on regardless. The fantasy interlinked with Spectre’s adoration of his body. He groped Ryoken’s hips before they roamed inward, playing with his cock and pussy. Spectre multitasked. Everything about him, as needy as it was for Ryoken’s milk was calibrated purely for Ryoken’s pleasure. Between the two faucets of Ryoken’s Omega genitalia, he forced the nub of Ryoken’s nipple to the roof of his mouth and sucked hard. It was all so rhythmic and all encompassing, Ryoken couldn’t help himself as Spectre lapped up his milk to a crescendo. Ryoken gasped. He came from the culmination of all Spectre’s affections unto him. Spectre grinned ear to ear, he drank in the melodic sounds of Ryoken’s orgasm, the hormones and pheromones he produced, and, of course, the milk. He buckled at his knees and collapsed into Spectre's lap - and all without Spectre breaking his latch. At the peak of orgasm, the taste changed and became even more delicious. Ryoken arched his back and Spectre followed, determined not to waste a drop. He kept sucking and sucking and sucking and Ryoken was overjoyed by it. He revelled in his orgasm as it reverberated through his body. It felt good. It felt really good to have the love and adoration of a weak, needy, pathetic manchild of an Alpha as a mate.