Five times Tim had a wet dream about his best friend, and one time he didn't.

The costume version of the Red Robin uniform that Cass provided Jason with has been altered to fit his proportions. The fabric is form-fitting but not uncomfortable, and the bandoliers snap across his chest without issue… except for the sordid way they frame his pecs. Between the chest action, the absence of a cup, and the feathered cape, he really feels like he's about to turn tricks. But, well… he can't complain. At least he has it better than Tim.

Jason moves his limp cock out of the way before spreading his lips wide with two fingers. His hole flutters, and off-white come drips down his perineum. "Whoops," he deadpans. "Looks like I've been naughty, Daddy." Bruce hums. He rolls back his sleeves before stepping forward. "Who did this to you, baby?" Jason's grin is positively feral when he answers: "Dick."

Jason raises his eyebrows. "So we like… spar? And you'll what, let me fuck you if I win?" "Sure. If you win." Tim smiles and a thrill goes up Jason's spine. He shucks off his jacket and shoes before making his way to the mat. "It's a deal, then. Hope you won't regret it, Replacement." Tim's teeth look strangely sharp under the Cave lighting when he says, "I'll try my best."

“Are you alright?” Tim squints, his new ears standing at attention, “You look flushed.” Jason tears his eyes away to stare at the ceiling, “I’m fine, and you look like Beast Boy’s deleted search history.” “That’s more like it,” Tim takes another step closer and Jason steps back immediately, “but you’re still being weird.” “I’m not being weird, I’m being nice and not trash talking you. Can we get to the case?” There’s a pause, then Tim’s eyes narrow and he brushes his tail against Jason’s leg with deliberation. Jason knows he’s been made when he fails to contain the shiver of arousal that runs through him. Tim’s eyes go wide, “Holy shit. You like it.”

Tim overhears a little tidbit of information about Jason that makes him wonder what it would be like to take him to bed. It doesn't take much to convince Jason to let him find out.

“Oh, come on. You know I’m half-Kryptonian. I can hear your heartbeat. I could smell you getting wet like a slut and making a mess of your boxers when you saw Tim’s cock.” “Watch your mouth, Lex-brat,” Jason growls dangerously. “I'm pretty sure I'm not the slut here.” Kon gives him the finger. “Come sit on my face and watch it yourself, coward.”

“Welcome to Red Hood’s Apothecary,” Jason says, coolly. “What can I do for you?” The stranger comes up to the counter, and Jason shudders. The man is short and slim, but there’s an aura of power around him that calls to Jason’s demonic nature. That can only mean one thing. Witch. And one trained by someone skilled. In fact, Jason is pretty sure that he recognizes Bruce's style all over the guy's warded clothes. Acid bubbles in his belly. His replacement has no business looking so good.

"Timmers sucked me pregnant," Jason blurts, and Tim watches in morbid fascination as Bruce goes through the five stages of grief in a millisecond. "I thought you said you weren't… sleeping together," Bruce says reproachfully. "He means that I, uh, impregnated him with my teeth. When I drank his blood. No sex involved," Tim explains. "It was an accident. I didn't even know I could do that."

Tim knew his evening would be interesting—going undercover as a woman always is. Still, he didn’t expect ‘interesting’ to include getting fucking propositioned by Jason Todd.

When Jason leaves the League, Dick Grayson is the furthest thing from his mind. He has Talia’s blessing and a step-by-step plan to make Bruce pay as well as to rid his city of the Joker. There’s no place in his thoughts for quippy acrobats, not when his every waking hour is tinted green with dreams of revenge. He doesn’t think that anything can possibly break through his single-minded focus… Then he catches footage of Nightwing fighting thugs on the streets of Blüdhaven with none of his usual grace. Fuck, but he can’t leave Dick behind to fend for himself. Not when he can’t be sure that Dick will survive long enough to still be around by the time Jason is done dealing with Bruce.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm not much of a hunter when I'm not fighting crime," Dick replies with a rueful grin. "Hunter?" Tim tilts his head to the side with a frown. "Right. I guess I should have specified since we’re both Os." His lips curl back to show his fangs. "I don't want you to chase me, Wing. I want to chase you."

All in all, their arrangement lasts for a few months. Months of filthy fucks, cutting words, and hasty walks of shame. Months without Tim letting Jason kiss him once. Months of Jason staring at the ceiling in soiled, cooling sheets after Tim's departure, gut-wrenching loneliness and self-loathing burning in his chest. Until one day, the dam breaks.

There's a pup in Jason's nest. He's here, covered in blood and guts after a long night spent, uh, clearing up some misunderstandings with the drug smugglers over at the docks, and there's a fucking strange pup conked out in his nest. Fuck his body for presenting omega, fuck omega hormones for being catnip for kids, and fuck him for being too soft to kick the brat out.