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It always started as an itch for him. A hot flush that crept up from the small of his back till it hit his neck, the heat radiating out across his skin as his blood rushed to the surface. There were times where he had a few days of advanced warning to prepare. Tonight wasn't one of those times. And now here he was, curled up in a pile of clothes in Lúcio’s dressing room, surrounded by the heavy smell of his Alpha, naked and shivering; a sticky-thighed wreck rutting against his palms with a desperate needneedneed that had him biting down on a pair of Lú’s briefs as he whimpered. The heavy thrum of the music playing out on stage reached him through the floor, bass sending little vibrations across his skin and making his situation all that much worse because all he could think of was Lú. Lú humming against his neck, Lú muttering filthy things into the space right under his ear, the steady thump thump thump that eked out of Lú’s headphones when he fucked him with them on, Lú’s hips snapping forward with the rhythm-

He groaned, low and guttural, a shudder wracking his body as another wave of desire hit, pooling in his gut and leaking down his thighs. It was suffocating, stuck here. Thinking about Lúcio outside, behind his console, covered in sweat and glistening under the massive lights. They'd all be watching him - alphas, betas, omegas alike. They wanted him. They did. He could smell it off of them whenever they walked past a crowd of fans, the pheromones tossed up in the air like an invitation.

There was a roar from the crowd outside and he was suddenly possessed by the singular urge to leave the fucking room, find his Alpha and fuck himself back on that knot where he found him so everyone else would know exactly who Lúcio’d chosen for his mate. Yeah. That was such a good idea. He giggled in between another heavy moan, just barely having the good sense to pull something over his legs to avoid flashing anyone he came across on the way. Lú was going to be so surprised.

He stumbled to his feet, swaying in place as he felt the cloth around his legs dampen, sticking to his skin as he staggered to the door. A small part of his brain whispered at him that he should stay put. It was drowned out by the overwhelming need to find his Alpha so he could get filled well and good, no need for any complex reasoning. The hallway was empty, which was a godsend for his current lack of balance - nothing and no one to trip over as he planted his shoulder against the wall and shuffled his way to the stage access. A door on the opposite side opened and a man gaped at him (beta, his mind supplied) until he snapped at them to fuck off and they retreated back into the room.

Left. He turned, glaring daggers at the security posted in front of the door - in his way; not particularly caring for the way they were looking at him, one hungry, the other simply stunned. Someone was trying to say something to him as he approached, but he waved them off, eyes fixed on the door, mind fixed on what laid behind it, the faint smell of Lúcio creeping into the hall and erasing every other thought. Someone grabbed his shoulder and he snarled, jerking out of reach, skin hot where it was touched, leg shaking but mind indignant, ready for a scrap until the door opened and a hand wrapped round his wrist and pulled him through.

The smell hit him first - hanging heavy around him - deep musk broken up by the hint of something tropical and above it all the smell of Alpha. His Alpha. He whimpered, pressing into the warm body, nose finding the space behind Lú’s ear where the scent was strongest, tongue darting out to lave at the skin mindlessly as arms wrapped round him. Lúcio was whispering something low and comforting into his ear, hardly comprehensible over the noise of the music and Jamie’s own desperation. He barely registered himself being lifted off his feet, hands scrambling to touch every inch of exposed skin he could find. His hips moved of their own accord, thrusting up against the hard lines of Lúcio’s body, cock straining against the thin cloth of the pants he’d pulled on in a rush.

It took Lúcio calling his name five times for him to register it, peeling away from the damp shirt to blink up at his mate from where he now sat, perched on the edge of a table backstage - just far enough in the shadows that the crowd couldn't see them. Lú’s eyes were blown and his face flushed, but laced with concern. When he spoke again his voice was breathless, only just loud enough to be heard over the thrumming bass.

“Are you okay?”

Jamie blinked at him. And then he laughed. He laughed, high and delirious and then he grabbed Lúcio’s face, yanked him forward and kissed him.

Lúcio met him open mouthed and wet, tongue curling with his as his hands found their way to Jamie’s hips, gripping them tight as he pressed against him. Jamie tipped his head back, keening as he thrusted against the warm body now caging him against the hard surface. There was too much between them, too many layers covering up that hot skin. He whined and scratched; eventually Lúcio stopped plundering his mouth long enough to peel his tank over his head - the bright green hitting the ground with a wet sound, drenched as it was with sweat.

Jamie wasted no time in wrapping himself around that inviting expanse, sweat on sweat on skin, his tongue licking, biting, tasting every inch even as his hands wandered, finding the thick pulsing heat through the tight pants his Alpha had on and fuck the noise Lúcio made when he touched - a low, predatory noise bordering on a growl that had him all but mewling in response. Fingers curled round his pants and tugged, dragging the cloth off his hips and onto the floor, leaving Jamie bare, a sticky wetness pooling at the crease of his ass and dripping past his thighs and off the table.

His legs spread, an invitation that Lúcio wasted no time in capitulating on, kisses trailing down his chest, past his twitching cock; hands pulling him apart for better access, a finger brushing across his rim and drawing out a strangled noise from Jamie’s throat.

Lúcio was talking again, whispering things against his skin, noise quivering as he scented him, tongue flicking out to lick a long stripe up the crease of Jamie’s ass, the music swallowing the noise that followed. The DJ panted out a quiet laugh, pulling back to lean his face against the joint of his right leg, where skin met metal, looking down at him with both desire and affection.


His voice was hoarse and it made Jamie shiver, the tremble reaching all the way down to his thighs where Lúcio beamed at him, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.

Jamie,” he repeated, pressing his lips against the seam where his prosthetic attached to his thigh. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.”

He peppered kisses all the way down the inside of Jamie’s thigh, right hand pulling at his pants and for fucks sake he wasn’t wearing anything under there and when his cock finally sprang free, hot and heavy against the meat of Jamie’s ass, he almost fucking cried.

“I’m gonna take such good care of you.”

Lúcio’s voice came right by his ear now - when had he moved? - one hand stroking back his hair gently, the other sliding up his crease, fingers toying at the wet opening before finally finally slipping in - and oh fuck yes. One, then two, Lúcio didn’t have to do too much to work him open, slick as he was, but when he added a third finger and curled up, Jamie swore, back arching off the table.

“You look so good like this.”

The fingers withdrew and he whined, hips struggling to try and chase after them to alleviate the feeling of emptiness they left behind; stopping only when they were replaced with something thicker. His breath caught in his throat and he felt Lúcio still.




The words slurred together, not quite forming in his mouth before they tumbled out, his nails raking down the length of Lúcio’s back as he felt that cock press in in in, the width of it spreading him open with a delicious sort of burn, his toes curling and hips stuttering up, only to be pinned down by a firm hand. Lúcio had gone quiet, the only noise his hot breaths in Jamie’s ear. He took his time, moving infuriatingly slow - the sure grip on Jamie’s waist keeping him from just taking things into his own hands and fucking himself down the rest of that ponderous length. Jamie back-and-forthed between swearing, spitting threats and begging, attempting to cajole his mate into picking up the pace, but Lúcio was having none of it.

By the time he bottomed out, Jamie was a pleading, sobbing wreck, struggling weakly in his mate’s grip, the metal of his prosthetic banging against the edge of the table and sending little shocks up his thigh. Lúcio grabbed a hold of his knee the third time it happened, hitching it decidedly over his shoulder as he straightened up, lips glistening wet and swollen from when Rat had chosen to bite down to vent his frustrations.

“You good?”

Jamie made a strangled noise.

“Lú if you don’t-”

Lúcio pulled back, and then snapped his hips forward, cutting off Jamie’s complaints. The air rushed out of his lungs in a single breath as his hands scrambled for something to hang on to, metal fingers just barely grasping at the edge of the table, flesh pressing into the thick of Lúcio’s shoulders. He keened, back arching up and off the hard surface, pushing his hips down to meet his Alpha’s - stopped only by the slight swell at the base of his cock; the knot, thick and hot and waiting and Jamie’s muscles tightened and Lúcio groaned and then they were fucking in earnest.

The music pulsed through the speakers, the crowd roaring along, heavy bass setting a frenetic pace for Lúcio to follow. He matched it beat for beat, one hand on Jamie’s thigh for leverage as he thrusted, wet slick leaking out of Jamie every time his cock slid out, dripping to the floor and forming a steadily growing puddle.


Rat’s cock jumped the way it did every time he heard Lú swear and he echoed the sentiment, eyes half-lidded and tongue hanging halfway out of his mouth.

“Gonna fill you up so good.”

Lúcio's voice was hoarse in his ear, lips trailing down his jaw, neck, collarbone, back up again - mindless kisses peppering hot flesh. Jamie didn't really understand any of it - his mind too far wrapped up in the pleasure - but for every word Lú threw at him, he uttered back three, breathless whispers that were lost in a cheer that rang out in the stadium.

Teeth closed round his nipple, scraping across his skin and drawing out a shout as his back arched, pushing the swollen flesh up further into Lúcio’s mouth. He raked his nails down his Alpha’s back, his lover hissing against him and thrusting particularly hard. The stretch was intoxicating. Something in his gut twisted and he braced his hands on Lú’s shoulders before flexing his hips, fucking himself down on the thick of Lúcio’s cock - moaning every time he felt the swell of that knot push past his rim. A warm hand wrapped around him and he choked out a sob as Lúcio thumbed his slit, smearing it wet with fluid as he matched Jamie’s rhythm with an aggressive push of his hips.


Rat closed his teeth into the thick of Lúcio’s pectoral, slamming his hips down with that desperate need; and then Lúcio’s hips were stuttering, his thrusts more shallow, his skin dripping, his teeth sinking into the space between Jamie’s neck and shoulder, marking him, hands pulling their hips to meet with every fuck - and then Jamie felt it. The pulse. The swell. And then he was being stretched open, open, and the feeling of fullness sent stars shooting past the inside of his eyelids and he was vaguely aware of the sudden wet heat on his belly, the fire in his skin building to an inferno before he was left suddenly cool. The relief flooded him as Lúcio flooded him - warmth pooling his insides as he laid back bonelessly, heaving tired breaths as Lú shuddered above him, finally flopping down on top of him, sweat and cum smearing a sticky mess between them. They laid like that, catching their breath as the music continued to play around them, till Rat recovered enough to let out a breathy laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole thing.

“Well fuck me.”

“Give a guy a minute Jamie, I'm an Alpha not a machine.”

He felt Lúcio’s shoulders shake against him, and they giggled together, both delirious, more than likely heat stroked, definitely dehydrated and well and truly fucked out. There was a grunt, and then his lover was standing, bracing his hands against the table for support before nudging at him. Jamie grumbled his fair share as they proceeded to reposition in an awkward shuffle; so that Lúcio was seated on the table edge, Junkrat in his lap, still tied, but moderately less uncomfortable than before. Lúcio was busy fussing over him, hand feeling his forehead, lips pressing apologetically against the bruise on his shoulder, other arm wrapped protectively around his waist - where he’d draped the ruined pants over to afford them some decency.

“I'm gonna get someone to bring us some water before we pass out, that okay?”

Jamie grunted at him, eyes ready to close. There was a quiet giggle from whoever Lú’d called over. They probably looked ridiculous the way they were - Junkrat a good head taller than Lúcio, likely towering over him in his lap. The bright orange pants that just barely covered their predicament didn't help.

”Hey c’mon don't fall asleep. You gotta drink something first, here.”

An arm reached round to press the rim of a bottle to his lips, and he drank till it was empty, Lúcio letting out a pleased noise. The music seemed to fade out as he settled back, lulled by the gentle caress of fingers through his hair. If you'd told him a few years back that he'd end up here, sitting in the arms of a beautiful man - an Alpha that loved him and cared for him beyond his biology, he’d have laughed himself right into the grave. It was strange to think that now he couldn't imagine his life without Lúcio in it. That warmth and affection that had so patiently cracked open the walls he'd built after years of nothing beyond the need to survive. He closed his fingers gently around the arm circling his waist, eyes falling shut.

“Love ya, y’know that, yeah?”

“I love you too Jamie.”


Later Lúcio would rescind that statement after working for a good half hour to restore the feeling in his legs. The newspapers would question why his intermission had lasted for over an hour, and why the DJ returned to his console seated in a chair. Jamie would cackle about it for days after, up until the point he started throwing up his breakfast, the news Mercy had for him after rendering his thoughts to a single point.

“Oh fuck.”