Chapter Text
It started two months after Martinaise.
No, scratch that – it had most likely started in the days following Martinaise, but as usual in dealing with the absolute shitstorm that was Harry Du Bois, Jean just…hadn't cared enough to notice.
Instead, when faced with being too thirsty, too hungry, and too hot, all paired with stomach cramps that made him want to curl up into a ball on the floor through the thick of it, he did what he so often did. He ignored it and shoved down his well-being to deal with Harry's latest suicidal bender, his latest apocalyptic rampage, his latest alpha bullshit, his latest whatever.
Which in this case was wiping his entire brain clean of the last 44 years of his life. This includes anything and everything about their three-and-a-half years of partnership, or more specifically, anything to do with Jean.
Great.
In the beginning, he was convinced he was sick because he refused to even entertain the fact that the most obvious answer was most likely the correct one, even though he'd been feeling off for weeks now.
Jean had been on heat suppressants and scent inhibitors his whole life, only coming off them once or twice in his early twenties before he'd joined the RCM. He knows that he still has another six months to go before he has to get the small metal suppressor in his arm replaced, the date marked with a simple red 'x' in his calendar back home. He'd taken great pains to present as a beta, having started taking the pills the day after he'd presented at the tender age of thirteen, the implant joining them when he'd signed up.
It wasn't that the RCM had rules forbidding omegas from joining or anything like that – it was encouraged. While scent blockers were mandatory in the workplace, an alpha/omega partnership, be it bonded or not, romantic or platonic, was simply just better in every way. Alphas were able to stay calm and focus better in high-stress situations, tempered by the scent of 'their' omega, while omegas themselves enjoyed a boost to their endurance and strength to keep up with 'their' alpha. A win-win as far as a police organization was concerned. The paid days off for heat and rut leave weren't half–bad either Jean acquiesced.
He just…didn't like other people knowing. The RCM might have been more 'opened minded' towards omegas, but it still had its fair share of bigots just like the rest of the world. He'd dealt with enough assaults, enough forced – bondings, enough domestics, Dei above, just walking down the street or through the hallways to know that he had a better chance of being able to just live his life and do his job if he used the suppressants and blockers and ignored the advice of his various therapists and doctors over the years that he needed to take a break for his own safety. It wasn't that fucking hard. No one had to know.
(Harry had known. He'd clocked it the second they'd been assigned partners, and when Jean had questioned him later, hackles raised and scent spiking oily and fearful in the enclosed space of the closet Harry had let Jean pull him into, the fucker had just laughed and tapped the side of his nose. "Guess I'm just better than everyone else." he'd said, infuriatingly smug. "Like a fucking dog" Jean had shot back, but it had just made him laugh harder, big fingers skimming up the side of his arm.)
Jean squinted down angrily at the page in front of him, kicking the underside of his desk when he realized that he'd just been re-reading the same paragraph repeatedly for the last fifteen minutes.
Fucking shitkid, couldn't even stop fucking him over even when he wasn't there, he thought venomously.
How exactly was he supposed to get any work done like this? Harry wasn't even his issue anymore, and yet somehow, he was still the source of most of Jean's headaches. The single bulb of his desk lamp wasn't helping either, the green light blaring behind his eyes when he closed them and heralding another oncoming migraine. He groaned and pushed back from his desk, stretching as he made his way through the darkened office toward the saving grace of the breakroom. He needed another cup of coffee if he wanted to get through typing up his case notes and finishing up the investigative paperwork for THE 31ST VIOLIN, where a star violinist had been found dead in a hotel room off Boogie Street.
It turned out that it was actually her secret twin sister, who the violinist had killed because the twin had been blackmailing her over her affair with the orchestra's conductor. The two had planned to fake the violinist's death and skip town together. Luckily, Jean had realized that the scent of the dead sister had been different ever so slightly than what others had described the violinist's as, and after four days of running up and down Jamrock, Jean and Judit had managed to catch the two in the act of trying to burn down the conductor's home to fake his death, his now ex-mate still inside. It had been a slog and a half, as all cases were, but when it was all said and done Harry had smiled at him, all coherent and bright-eyed, smelling and looking better than he had in years.
He'd tentatively rested one hand on Jean's shoulder before Jean had shrugged him off, telling him that he'd done a good job, and Jean had had to violently fight down the feeling of pride and contentment rushing through his lungs, of wanting to push into the touch and preen at the alpha's words alongside the urge to beat the man's head in with a typewriter.
Not your alpha, he reminded himself furiously as he waited for the ancient coffee machine that had probably been around when the building had still been a silk mill to spit out its life-giving sludge, never was your alpha in the first place. The bondmark on Harry's neck had made sure of that, long before the two of them had even met and long, long after that, even when the mark had faded back into nothing.
See, it's not your fucking problem anymore is it, so why the fuck are you still thinking about him?!
He knew that Trant had just gone on heat leave. Jean had smelled that suffocating floral musk right before he'd disappeared off on his mandated PTO, as unflinchingly cheerful as ever, and he wondered for a second if the hormone rush had kicked his own into gear. It was probable, yes, but it wasn't the likely reason. No, the likely reason was C-Wing's newest Lieutenant.
Sorry, Jean corrected in his head, a tinge sarcastic, more than a bit bitter as he poured himself a cup of dark liquid, Lieutenant-Yefreitor.
Since being put in charge, Harry had been the dominant alpha at the top of C-Wing's hierarchy, a role he'd enjoyed with no small amount of pleasure. Kitsuragi's arrival had shaken that hold, as for the first time ever it was clear that Harry had a significant contender for the top spot. Kitsuragi effortlessly exerted authority and no small amount of respect from most of the betas and omegas in the 41st, and (grudgingly) some of the other alphas.
Even more surprising, it appeared that Harry, a notoriously aggressive alpha who'd nearly ripped Torson's throat out once when the idiot had thought to question one of Harry's many insane plans on a particularly bad bender, had seemingly backed down against Kitsuragi's unspoken challenge without so much as baring his top teeth.
It left the rest of the wing in no small amount of disarray as they attempted to figure out who they had to defer to, running around like headless chickens with teeth set and scents on edge as they waited to see how long it would be before something happened between the two that would inevitably end in a trip down to Gottlieb. But nothing had happened, and nothing continued to happen so slowly but surely the rest of the pack gradually adjusted themselves to this new 'normal,' emphasized by the fact that Pryce had officially designated the two as partners the minute the newly minted Lieutenant-Yefreitor's transfer paperwork and honestly far too over the top MC had been accepted and Harry had returned from sick leave. Not the first Alpha/Alpha partnership in RCM history, but certainly the most unexpected.
It meant that officially, C-Wing had two active Lieutenants, and unofficially, two dominant alphas.
It also meant that Jean had been knocked back down to a patrol officer for the time being, at least until the Major Crimes Unit straightened itself back out into a proper task force after two years of Harry driving them into the dirt. Only then, Pryce had said, pointedly looking at Jean when he'd informed him of the changes, would there be a consideration for a third lieutenant.
The strange ambivalence and partnership between the shitkid and Kitsuragi had left Jean feeling as if he'd stepped forward expecting to find familiar, solid ground, only to encounter a yawing pit beneath his feet as he attempted to process how he felt about his replacement. Submit!, his instincts screamed at him on the daily, submit and present yourself beneath the new alpha, in the face of new dominance, yesyesyesyesyes, so strong, strong enough to provide, to lead, to thrive, so good for pack and pups, while the rest of his mind pointed out the fact that Kim's cooler than you and the way Kitsuragi had said Mr. Vicquemare back during their initial meeting in Martinaise when he'd thought that Jean was a heartless, cruel piece of shit who couldn't see past his own fucking problems far enough to care for his wounded amnesiac partner. Probably continued to think.
Harry hadn't wanted him, not really, only ever in his drunkest moments, and only ever as a replacement for Dora, so why should the Lieutenant-Yefreitor want you, a chain-smoking, clinically depressed, and amphetamine-addicted co-dependent omega?
They'd spoken little beyond greetings in the morning and about cases, but even in Martinaise Jean knew that the Lieutenant-Yefreitor disapproved of the way he treated his former partner. His scent soured almost imperceptively, alpha fangs peeking out ever so slightly from between his lips every time Jean went out of his way to ignore Harry like the Moralintern ignored the RCM's pleas for funding, or when Jean shot down any of Harry's attempts to talk to him with about the same amount of toxic waste as the Esperance. A small part of him always cackled gleefully at the crushed look on Harry's face at every failure, even as a not-so-insignificantly larger part of Jean squirmed uncomfortably at the sight.
Look, he reasoned as he slowly made his way back to his desk carrying a too hot too bitter cup of coffee, ignoring the latest and honestly most painful of the cramps that set his jaw in a tight grimace as he got back to work, It's not any worse than some of the things he's said or done to you. You can't back down now. You can't want to be kinder now that he's 'sober.' He's been sober before. It's never lasted, you know that. It doesn't matter how badly you want to believe that he's really trying this time, you can't do this to yourself. Not again.
You gave up on him, remember? You gave up, and you left. You deserve this failure.
Even if he were still on the wrong foot on how to feel about the 'new' Harry, he'd tried to remain civil with Kitsuragi on the basis that they did have to work together for the foreseeable future, which honestly wasn't that hard.
Despite the alpha's disapproval of Jean's attitude and his somewhat distant figure in the first few weeks, he'd been a welcome breath of fresh air for the rest of the unit. Reserved, balanced, and generally more stable than the rest of them (minus, of course, Judit) the Lieutenant-Yefreitor was able to direct them where they needed to go with a spine of steel and unbreakable composure, to cut down to the root of the problem with inhuman efficiency. He'd even been able to reel in McLaine and Torson at their worst with barely a flash of fangs or a hint of alpha voice, which Jean could respect. Kitsuragi was a man of well-laid, well-thought-out plans and it showed in his every action, a far cry from Harry's former leadership style of 'fuck around and find out.'
It also helped that on the fifth day of Kitsuragi's transfer, Harry's medical leave had ended.
That had been a particularly bad morning for everyone as the precinct waited with bated breath to see if Harry's amnesia were true, or if Tequila Sunset would ride again. Kitsuragi himself had seemed rather calm about the eyes of the entire precinct on him whispering behind his back, right up until Harry had walked into C-Wing's bullpen, limping ever so slightly. He'd taken one look at the other alpha before dashing over faster than his recently healed bullet wound should have allowed. Jean had snapped his pen in half and McLaine had been halfway out the door already towards Nix's office, with Torson (the only other alpha nearby at the time) rising from his seat anticipating having to break up a fight for dominance, but the Lieutenant double-Yefreitor had simply picked his soon-to-be partner up like nothing and pulled him into a crushing hug, a big dopey smile on his face reminiscent of a golden retriever. Kitsuragi had returned the embrace with a slightly awkward pat on the back even as a similar smile threatened to appear on his lips.
The tips of his ears had been a bright red Jean noted in a vague daze in the back of his mind as he signed off on form after form.
From there, he started noticing the way Kitsuragi played along with some of Harry's jokes. His sense of humor was sometimes weird, sarcastic and almost unnoticeable, but he was genuinely funny, never failing to make Harry laugh and even causing Jean to snicker on occasion or two. The way he held his own, effortlessly confident whenever an alpha from another wing tried to assert their dominance over their newest pack member. It was always a spectacle and a half to watch Kitsuragi effortlessly talk around them, before closing in for the kill and verbally destroying them, causing them to slink away with their tail between their legs. The man was a bit of a bitch sometimes, but it was, Jean had to admit, pretty hot actually.
It also didn't help that Harry had once bizarrely referred to himself as Lieutenant-Yefreitor Kitsuragi's 'silly rabbit' with complete seriousness causing Jean to almost choke to death on his fourth cup of coffee that morning.
Focus, he reminded himself, just focus and get this done, and don't think about how despite everything that happened, you're glad Kitsuragi was the one with Harry and not you.
Don't think about the way they touch each other when they think no one's looking, the way they work together flawlessly in the same way you and Harry once had, the Ace's Highs, and the way they defend each other, far more than most cop-partners do.
Don't think about how all it took for him to address all the things you'd been begging him to deal with for years was for him to completely implode every iota of you, to find someone who is everything you're not-
"Fucking shut up!" he screamed, slamming both hands down onto the desk hard enough to tip over the half-full mug, spilling coffee all over the desk. "Shit!" Jean hissed, grabbing as many papers as he could save from the liquid before dashing back to the breakroom to grab a towel to mop up the spill, fuming at himself that he'd just gone back to thinking about fucking Harry. At least coffee wasn't the worst thing that had ever been on that desk, he reasoned as he returned to his now slightly damp papers.
The next few hours were uncomfortable but normal enough for him to get by. At some point during that time, night shift headed out on patrol, leaving Jean alone in the bullpen. Mollins had stuck his head through the door at one point and asked him if he needed anything, but Jean had just waved off the young alpha's concern.
It was clear that the rest of the pack was aware that something was up with Jean instinctively, even if they couldn't put a finger on it. McLaine and Torson had picked up on Jean's sour mood and had buckled down to do their paperwork in the past week in a rather futile effort to clear some of the backlog, while Judit had been past his desk more frequently to leave drouamine and water for him, always somehow knowing when his headaches and cramps were at their worst, her beta scent soothing to his overly-sensitive nose.
Even the horses seemed to understand something was wrong with Jean.
At least Judit had been kind enough to leave his favorite chocolates, homemade sandwiches, and snacks on his desk as well (At least, he assumed it was her. He'd never actually seen her leaving any.) He always had a small mountain of wrappers to throw in the bin by the end of the day, courtesy of his unending hunger as his body stored calories for his heat. Jean had done his best to stave it off as long as he could applying scent blockers every four hours and taking the pill form heat suppressors far more frequently than was probably healthy especially considering the fuck ton of other medication he was on.
Just finish this, then go home.
Logically, he knew that his heat wasn't set to hit till at least mid-afternoon tomorrow, which was Saturday, and he'd taken the whole weekend off plus Monday. He deserved a fucking break, and he could afford to ride this out with no interruptions. He just had to buckle down and finish his stupid fucking paperwork so that Judit could submit it when she came in tomorrow morning.
Yet slowly but surely his focus had dwindled to absent clicking and squirming. He'd already smoked three cigarettes, but not even the rush of nicotine seemed to calm him down. The room was seemingly getting hotter by the minute, and he had to keep wiping his eyes to see the page in front of him properly.
He'd already shed his jacket at the beginning of the night, so he groaned and undid his button-up, throwing his tie somewhere into the darkness to combat the heat. His undershirt was damp with sweat and his hair was already starting to curl at the nape of his neck. He felt flush all over, and he could see how red his chest was getting. His thoughts became a jumbled mess and he started to fade in and out, panting through grit teeth as he tried to get a hold of himself.
Oh fuck, he thought as Jean realized with no small amount of horror that his biology had decided to be just another thing in his life that fucked him over. Fuck fuck fucky fuck! Guess his other medications must have fucked up the heat suppressors more than he realized if it was coming on this early.
What the fuck had he been thinking?! It was too late to leave, and he wasn't even sure he could walk on his own anymore, the world slipping out from under his feet as he attempted to stand up from his desk, blurring into a wash of blacks, white spots, and grey streaks.
Shower, Jean thought as he grit his teeth and fought through the involuntary shiver at the feeling of slick collecting in his underwear, cold shower, and then just take one of the motor carriages home and apologize to Pryce about it on Tuesday because you sure as fuck cannot walk back to your apartment or stay here like this. Slowly, Jean began to make his way through the darkened building, leaning against the wall to support himself at every step with the moonlight through the windows his only guide with the lights turned off during the night in an effort to conserve both power and money.
Eventually, he managed to stumble his way into the precinct's locker room. Thankfully, with night shift already out, it meant that he was blissfully alone until they returned. Hitting the light switch, he managed to drag his remaining sweat-soaked clothes off, throwing them onto a nearby bench where he could easily find them again. Jean could not form the higher thought right now to remember if he had a spare change of clothes anywhere, and he didn't want to have to make his way to the garage naked if he could spare it.
Really would just be the shit cherry on top of the fuck up sundae that was tonight, wouldn't it?
The water pressure is terrible, but it's generally better than Jean's apartment even on a good day, and the freezing water is a blessing on his skin. As quickly as he can, he scrubbed himself down with the bar of soap on offer as he sent up a quick prayer to Dolores Dei or anyone who was listening that the measly smell of vanilla would be enough to cover up his heat-tinged scent, studiously avoiding touching anywhere near his lower half, dick already beginning to peak up through his folds.
Feeling a bit more human and deeming it to be good enough for now, Jean turned the shower off and made his way through the room toward his locker, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. He knows he has spare scent blockers and heat pills; he'll just have to apply some of those and take some of the pills and then leg it for the bay –
Jean stops, fingers twitching over the locker handle.
Something smells, he thinks somewhat deliriously as saliva gathered in the back of his throat, something smells good.
It's coming from the locker two down from his, the door hanging open slightly as if someone forgot to close it properly. Like they couldn't remember what their code was, so they just kept it open a crack instead even though Jean kept threatening to steal all his shit out of it to teach him a lesson if he weren't careful, even if he already knew the code off by heart.
Jean was standing in front of his own locker one second and in the blink of an eye he was standing in front of Harry's, wrenching the door open to stare at the man's green Disco-Ass Blazer hanging in his locker, two plain white t-shirts that looked to be four sizes too small for him folded neatly on the top shelf. What the fuck are you doing, what the fuck are you doing, the last rational portion of his brain screamed at him distantly as he slowly withdrew the blazer, and after a moment of hesitation, one of the too-small-for-Harry t-shirts as well.
A more distant part of his brain wondered why Kim's shirts were in the shitkid's locker (don't think about that actually) and why Harry's blazer was still in his locker in the first place, but those thoughts were swept away in an instant as Jean wrapped his arms around the discarded clothing and buried in his face in it. He took big greedy gulps of Harry and Kim's scent and moaned with every exhale like he couldn't bear to let it go, stumbling backward onto a nearby bench. It creaked as he mindlessly humped forward. He tried to stop but he couldn't string two thoughts together, all he could hear was alphaalphaalpha pounding in his head to the beat of his lungs.
Harry's smell had changed since Martinaise. It had been spicy previously, like paprika or cumin, mixed with the tarry smoke of cigarettes and always the overwhelming scent of rum, wine, or vodka, whatever Harry's drink of choice was that day.
It used to stick to Jean, across the backs of his thighs and down his sides wherever Harry touched him and when the alpha was feeling particularly territorial in his need to stake a claim, across the mating gland on the back of his neck. He liked to pull Jean into his lap in the back of whatever shitty bar they were at, in closets at the precinct, their apartments, even the backseat of the Coupris 40' when they'd gotten it, licking long stripes up Jean's neck again and again, every so often pushing his luck and scrapping his alpha teeth over the bond site, running his hands up and down Jean's body for hours until he was a sweating, trembling mess, slick running down his thighs as Harry ground up against him, cock hard and heavy through his pants. He was never proud to admit it, but he'd come untouched like that more than a few times.
Now Harry's scent was like the sun beating down on clean metal, a burst of hot citrus sweeping across his pallet and going straight to his head. It was the pure essence of summer all wrapped up into one big mouthful. He pressed the blazer to his nose and breathed deep, a new strike of lust hitting sharp as he switched over and pressed his face into Kitsuragi's shirt.
If Harry was the summer, Kim was like the first kiss of winter, the taste of pine and nicotine in the back of his lungs, like the dark chocolate coco that Trant once brought in on a particularly cold day, dark and bitter but oh so good and warm sliding down his throat. And underneath all that, the smell of oranges, tangy and sweet.
He could feel the wetness between his folds grow with every breath and he whined as a new ache bloomed in him. Jean found himself acutely aware of how empty he was, and he reached down to shove three fingers into his swollen cunt.
He gasped as he remembered the heft and weight of Harry's cock in him, of his big hands, of Kim's slim fingers as he passed him cups, pens, and paper, and his smooth, commanding voice. He keened and the bench rattled as he began to move his fingers, scissoring them and imagining both of them being there to pet through his hair and bend him over the bench to take care of him properly.
He was so lost in the fantasy, he didn't even hear the door open, the conversation between the two choked out by the overwhelming smell of omega filling the room. It was like his brain was refusing to register other stimuli over the sound of alphaalphalpha echoing through his brain and the slick sound of his fingers pistoning in and out over and over again as he chewed mindlessly on the collar of Harry's jacket, sharp omega fangs leaving small holes in the fabric as the scent of citrus and pine grew stronger and stronger.
So, he thinks he can be forgiven for almost losing his goddamned mind when a large hand actually pets through his hair, startling Jean so bad he almost threw himself halfway across the room and onto the hard tile.
"Oh fuck, Jean, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that," Harry said as he stepped back and threw his hands up in a universal 'don't shoot!' gesture, "I just uh, wanted to see if you were okay…?", trailing off at the end as Jean just stared at him.
He wants to die.
Of course, what was left of his brain thinks hysterically, you always knew that the reason you'd kick the bucket would be Harrier fucking Du Bois.
Behind him stands Kitsuragi, silently observing Jean with his hands clasped behind his back. He seems strangely calm about finding Jean trying to inhale one of his shirts while fingering himself in heat. The only sign Jean's got that this is affecting him at all is his slightly deeper-than-normal breathing and the fact that the tips of his ears are a bright shade of red.
He's also not wearing his usual orange airman's jacket. Instead, he's wearing a black one and the same style, but this one is unadorned with any visible RCM patches of any kind. Harry's dressed about the same as always, sans RCM patches, which means Jean can see his cock thickening through the tight crotch of his flared pants.
They had a stakeout tonight Jean remembers suddenly, wrenching his eyes up as Harry began shuffling around from foot to foot the longer silence stretched between the three of them. One of their cases, TWO LEFT FEET, had required them to go undercover at a dance hall in an attempt to catch whoever had been murdering dancers with scores lower than thirteen. They'd talked about it at the briefing this morning.
That's why Harry's blazer was in his locker.
They must've just gotten back and decided to head to the locker room to grab their things before heading home when they'd found Jean.
Oh FUCK.
"…any luck?" Jean muttered, his voice embarrassingly high. He feels like he's been hit in the face with a bucket of ice. "On the case." he continued at Harry's confused look.
"Khm. No," Kim answered evenly but with a slight undercurrent of something, "but the detective and I did make some good progress on determining suspects. There are a few with a sufficient motive that will require further questioning." There's a slight pause, as Kim takes stock of the situation in full before he finally asks the question Jean had known was coming. "…Your identification did not mark you as an omega."
"I didn't declare myself as one." Jean replied as he shifted to sit properly on the bench, closing his legs in a vain effort to hide his weeping erection and wet cunt, "I didn't want to.". He watches Kim's eyes darken and Harry's nostrils flare as the movement sends a new wave of scent their way but neither of them move a muscle from where they're standing, barely an arm's length away.
"So that alpha scent that was on you…it's not yours? Or a substitute?" Harry eventually asked, voice low, "Is it your alpha?"
That takes him by surprise. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he snapped, nerves on edge as he felt his heat begin to rise again in response to two dominant alphas in front of him, "I'm clearly fucking unbonded, bastard, or has your brain damage spread to your eyesight now?"
Harry frowned, and Jean watched carefully to see if his jaw was clenching, if he were about to bare his fangs, but he didn't. The alpha lowered his head and slumped his shoulders, making himself look smaller and less intimidating. Even his scent softened. Jean had never seen an alpha look so apologetic in posture before, much less Harry.
It always unnerved him to hear Harry apologize. The alpha he knew would rather shoot himself in the foot than admit he was wrong in any way. Or at least he used to. It felt like every third word out of Harry these days was 'sorry.'.
Yet, he felt himself unstiffen and his scent soften to comfort him, much like he used to do on particularly bad nights to get Harry to cooperate when Jean tried to help him or talk him down from blowing his brains out with his service weapon.
Kim cleared his throat, and Jean's attention was drawn back to him. "I believe what the detective was trying to convey is that you frequently smell like another alpha, more so in the past two weeks. I, honestly, could not smell anything until the detective pointed it out - we simply assumed that either it was your natural scent coming through the blockers, or it was your partner, though it is clear now that neither is the case."
Jean hesitated, though he was beginning to get the idea of why they would think that. "What exactly does it smell like?" he asked, cheeks turning ruddy.
"Spicy," Harry replied quickly, wringing his hands. Jean expected a snarl, but it came out as a whine, an edge of desperation to the Lieutenant double-Yefreitor's voice. He suddenly looked a lot more excited to Jean than he had before, a bright shine coming to his eyes. "Like pepper and smoke and bourbon."
"Oh." Jean looked away, clutching at the blazer and t-shirt he couldn't find in himself to let go of.
"…It's your scent, dumbass," he said finally, staring at the floor, "It was different before Martinaise. You honestly didn't realize?"
That seemed to truly floor Harry, who simply gaped at him like a fish out of water, a small sound echoing out of his throat. Kim, on the other hand, didn't look too surprised. More like this admission had confirmed something in his mind that he'd long suspected.
"M-me?" Harry stuttered. Jean bristled at that, glaring at him again and baring his omega fangs in a snarl.
"Of course it was yours! You didn't smell any of your clothes? Your apartment?"
"No!" Harry countered quickly, looking like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "I haven't been back to my apartment yet! I didn't remember where it was, and when I finally asked Jules, the bourgeois overlord who owns the building refused to give me a replacement key, and it took me two weeks to convince him to give me another, but when I got it I just…couldn't bring myself to go in. Kim was nice enough to go in and grab some of my stuff, and wash all the stains out for me...But, but!" he added at Jean's incredulous look, "Kim and I were going to go clean it up this weekend. So."
Jean felt another headache coming on. A big one.
"Well, if you haven't been back to your apartment, where the fuck have you been staying for two months?" he questioned, and Harry's eyes flickered to Kim standing off to his side.
Oh. Well.
Jean felt his throat close in on itself, and he struggled to breathe for a few seconds.
"Of course," he muttered before standing up and reaching for the towel he'd dropped forever ago in an attempt to retain whatever dignity he had left.
"Jean-"
"Officer-"
"Don't," he said flatly as he attempted to move past them both to get to his clothes, "It doesn't fucking matter anymore anyway." Fuck this, fuck them, and fuck himself for ever beginning to think he was worth anything. He just wants to go back home to his shitty apartment and his shitty memories and all the clothes he'd dug out that still smelled like the old Harry, the one he'd hated and loved in equal measure (Dei above, you sad, little man, that's why they'd thought you had an alpha, like anyone would have wanted you) and then he'd come back into work on Tuesday and they'd never speak about this again.
Maybe he'd start ignoring both of them. Then everyone could go about their lives as usual, where Jean died alone, and they lived happily ever after together until the Coalition bombed them all in oblivion or the Pale finally consumed them like Harry had been screaming about for years and-
Jean almost brains himself against the floor for a second time that night when his legs give out from under him as another intense wave of heat washes over him, curling up through his stomach. His only saving grace was the fact that both Kim and Harry had reached out and caught him, their hands curled around his arms and against his side to steady him, and fuck their touch felt good, like a soothing balm against his fiery skin.
A soft mewl crawled its way up his throat unbidden and he felt both of them stiffen against him in response to the desperate cry. Jean's eyes rolled back, and he clung to Kim helplessly, drowning in the fresh scent of him. It was so much better than the trace smell on the t-shirt and he barely held back from humping against the alpha's leg. They both smelled so good, and it was pouring into him with each heavy breath.
He wanted more, much more.
"Officer Vicquemare – Jean," Kim said softly, a hint of alpha's command in his words to force Jean to look at him with dazed eyes as Harry cupped the back of his neck in an attempt to ground him. "It would be highly unsafe for you to attempt to walk home by yourself like this. The detective and I are more than happy to help you return to your apartment and provide you with any supplies you might need if you do not already have them. I am sure Patrol Officer Minot would be able to check in on you as needed once we inform her of your situation. Or…."
At this, Kitsuragi hesitates, looking up and making eye contact with Harry over Jean's head where he's still slumped against Kim's chest. A wordless conversation passes between them in seconds. There's a brief pause as Harry's eyes glaze over as he retreats into his head to confer with the voices Jean knows he can hear, even if he doesn't fully believe it. The moment passes, and a consensus seemed to be reached as Harry nods enthusiastically. A small, fond smile broke out over Kim's face at Harry's eagerness before looking back at Jean.
"Or," he continued quietly, "The Lieutenant and I are right here to help you through this. But only if you want."
Jean's gaze dragged between them, voice caught in his throat. He can barely think.
No, no, no, no! a part of him yells, you said you would never do this again, you said that you were done. You cannot back down now, it screams, but it's lost to the larger part of Jean that wants, to be warm and safe pressed between them, wants the easy affection and touch that they're offering here and now, a larger part that he finally admits is right.
His alpha is dead, had most likely been dead for a long time even before Martinaise, and this man in front of him is in so many ways his partner, yet not. He can feel him in the way he calls Jean's name, the way he looks at him, the way he's holding him now, running his hands up and down Jean's sides. But he doesn't get into screaming matches with him in the middle of the street, doesn't drink or do drugs into the night, calling Jean's phone to slur hey baby down the line at him convincing Jean to come pick him up or join him. Doesn't hurl abuse at him, doesn't drag him down into the mud with him.
This Harry looks at him now, equal parts hunger and affection in his eyes, and meets Jean's anger with determination and a softness he doesn't deserve.
He sort of gets it now, why it took Harry so long to get over Dora. But Harry's finally beginning to grieve, to move on, all thanks to Kim, who waits and watches Jean now with the same patience and a surprising amount of care he showed an amnesiac stranger, lost in the world.
…maybe it's about time that Jean began to do the same.
"Okay." he says simply, not trusting his voice any further, quivering as he felt heat rush over him, the proximity of alphas - strong, hot, fertile - driving his instincts wild.
Slowly, they maneuvered him back towards the bench with Kim pulling Jean into his lap, Harry moving to kneel in front of him, choreographing their every move the same way Jean did with particularly high-strung horses. The comparison makes him giggle, too far gone to even consider trying to smother the sound.
"May I ask what’s so funny?" Kim questioned, hot breath against Jean's ear as he encouraged the much taller omega to slide further down the bench and lean against his chest.
"Just – this," Jean admitted, sucking in another deep breath of their combined scents as Harry began running his broad hands up and down his legs to soothe him, "It feels so fucking stupid and unbelievable. I can't be the only one to think this situation is a little bit insane right? What is this, a goddam porno? Two alphas coming across an in-heat omega after hours?"
"Do you want us to stop?" Kim asked, and he heard more than saw the eyebrow raise.
"…no."
"Good. It would be a shame, and I do believe the detective is enjoying himself down there. He's very good, no?"
At this, Jean had to agree.
He felt like liquid under Harry's ministrations, as his hungry mouth descended on the miles of warm skin, kissing over Jean's stomach and nipping at his toned thighs, riling him up with every drag of his facial hair and fangs over skin leaving Jean positively humming before he even started licking him. Harry's tongue caught on the sticky trails of slick smeared along Jean's inner thighs and the taste kicked up rumbles deep in his chest, with Kim echoing in kind.
The pain of emptiness was growing more than he could bear, and a dry sob tumbled from Jean's lips as Kim reached down and finally began rubbing the head of his dick, even as Harry spread Jean open to show off the needy, pink hole that was shining in the harsh light of the locker room.
"Fuck." Harry swore, looking up at Jean from his place on the floor. He licked his lips, alpha fangs visible with each heaving breath, irises a thin ring lost in a sea of black. "I'd buy a porno with you two in it," he confessed eagerly, watching as a wave of slick dripped out of Jean's hole and trickled down so invitingly. "Could do it easily too, you know? Just borrow a camera from the precinct. No one would have to see it if-if you want. Or, shit, you could sell copies and, I don't know, charge like 100 reál per film. Pay back the precinct for borrowing equipment easy. I know I'd buy ten, just to be able to watch the hottest thing in my entire life but I'd probably - probably have to fight off every other alpha in this city just to get one."
Jean's lost, he's so far gone he can barely think, especially Kim began to mouth along the back of his neck, and when he rolled his hips back, he could feel Kim's cock hard against the cleft of his ass.
He felt like his mind was melting, feverish, panting, "A-ah… alpha..."
"Can I-can I taste you?" Harry implored as Kim's hand on Jean's dick began to stroke harder, taking his time dragging his fist up and down, "Please Jean?"
Jean's legs spread more, and he canted up his hips. "Please."
Harry was on him in an instant, licking up the rest of the slick on his thighs before trailing up to his cunt. Jean let out a thready, needy moan at the first lick, much louder than any of the other sounds they'd been making before, and instantly Kim's still gloved hand was there covering his mouth. "Quiet, officer," he soothed as Jean tried to scent the material, "the others will most likely be returning soon. It would be unfortunate if they were to walk in on us like this."
Jean, unable to respond properly, dragged his small fangs against the glove in frustration when he only tasted the leather. He wanted to fill himself with their scents, wanted to remember nothing else but the alphas taking care of him, but any anger was quickly lost at the feeling of a hot, slick tongue licking at his entrance, the faintly pleasant burn of Harry's mutton chops against his thighs, the wet sounds echoing obscenely throughout the room.
It was too much, with long, slow laves that left him chasing the feeling, followed by Harry's tongue prodding deeper and deeper, heavy licks inside his hole.
It's good, it's so, so good, but not quite enough. Jean just wanted to fuck himself on something, but the alphas held him place. It was maddening, the torture drawing new wells of slick out of him.
He vaguely registered that Kim had withdrawn his hand from over his mouth and was instead gently turning Jean's head to face him. "Enjoying yourself omega?" he asked, and Jean nodded his head sharply, a desperate little purr vibrating up his throat.
"Look at you," Kim marveled, "Doing so well. You love this, don't you? That's why you were scenting our clothes right out in the open. Knowing that anyone could walk in right now, and see you with your legs spread, in heat. You want the rest of the precinct to smell you and smell how well we took care of you. See how well we take care of you. All your bark, but no real bite. Don't deny it," he commanded when Jean began to huff in protest, alpha tone clear in his voice "You're so wet for us. All you want to do is put your ass in the air, desperate to be filled by whoever would mount you. Maybe if Harry hadn't been so desperate to get his mouth on you, I would have filled your greedy throat with my cock instead. Put that mouth of yours to good use."
Oh my god, holy shit-
"K-kiss?" he whispered desperately against Kim's skin as his peak approached rapidly, ushered along by the honeyed voice in his ear, "Kiss please alpha?" Kim complied, sealing their lips together the best he could with the awkward angle, glasses digging into the side of Jean's head. Kim kissed him like he was devouring him, his hands hot and everywhere across bare skin, as he sucked at Jean's mouth, only pulling away for a moment to gasp for air against his lips.
"Fuck, Kim-" Harry began to say, pulling away from Jean in an attempt to get a better look at them, but he simply wrapped his legs around Harry's shoulders and forced him back down.
Like a starving man faced with his first meal in weeks, Harry returns, a finger joining alongside his tongue. They're big, like the rest of Harry, and calloused too from a life of physical labor as both a former gym teacher and a cop. Before long there's a second one joining it, Jean's slick easing their passage.
Jean shivered and his inner omega keened. There's no way he can last much longer between them, already so wound up from his heat. He just about whites out when Harry curls his fingers up, electricity running down his spine and through his toes, making them curl. There's no way he can- he's-fuck, fuck-
Jean choked on a scream as Kim's hand closed around his aching cock, pumping only twice before he came. He shuddered and grabbed Harry's hair, forcing his head down as he rides through his orgasm, splattering cum over his stomach and Kim's hand. The alpha let go of his cock to wrap an arm around Jean's hips to hold him still while Harry lapped up his slick.
Eventually it became too much, and he thumped the heel of his foot against Harry's back to get his attention. "Down boy," he grunted, and Kim laughed behind him.
"He does act more like a dog than a human sometimes, doesn't he?" he mused, "Digging through trash, eating whatever mystery substances he finds on the ground, licking everything he can see. Very loyal and cuddly though. I think that more than makes up for the other qualities others might find less desirable. "
Kim reached past Jean to run a hand through Harry's hair where he was still pressed against the crux of Jean's thigh. "Such a good boy." he purred, tone full of fondness and mirth. Harry's whole body shuddered, and he let out a moan.
Jean snorts, too tired to partake in his favorite activity of making fun of Harry, even though there's no bite in the Lieutenant's words. Usually, he feels like crying after sex, too overwhelmed by all the sensations but he felt more lucid now, no longer scent drunk with his heat sated for the moment. He feels calm and loose, like a weight he was only aware of in the periphery had been lifted off his shoulders for the time being.
He knows that later he'll probably work himself into a panic, pacing around his apartment when his heat is over, thinking about the fact that he just had sex with his two superiors (One of whom is Harry, who Jean was still (had always been) in love with, and the other Kim, who he respected almost as much as Pryce, who he was at the very least extremely attracted too) but right now, all he wants is to sink back against Kim and simply be held. Possibly also another cigarette, but that could come later.
Jean swallows, mouth suddenly dry as Harry stands, grunting slightly from the strain on his knees from kneeling on the cold, hard tile for so long. There's cum and slick all across his mouth and through his beard which he wipes off with the back of his hand. Harry looked practically feral, pupils blown, and teeth bared, drool running down his chin, a growl rumbling out of his chest. He felt Kim growl low in his throat, a clear sign to back off, and calm down, and before Jean could move to sit up, Harry whined, covering his mouth and nose with his hand. After a moment, he shook his head, calmed some, and fought the growl in his throat to try and form words.
"Sorry," he croaked, "Give me a second.", even as he eyed them both down with clear hunger.
Bloodhound.
Standing as he is, Jean's got a direct eyeful of Harry's dick, and the growing wet patch in his pants. Suddenly, blindingly, Jean wants to put his mouth on it, wants to swallow Harry down to the root even though he'd never once been able to fit the whole thing in his mouth. Harry's cock is already ridiculously girthy. It always feeling like someone was shoving their fist inside him whenever they fucked. And his knot…fuck, it was like someone was inflating a beer can in his pussy.
He doesn't know what Kim's cock looks like either, but he can still feel it against his ass, and he wants to try and put both of them in his mouth at once, in his cunt. Feel both of them grinding up against the entrance to his womb.
He knows it's just the heat talking, but goddammit if he doesn't want to try. Probably not this time around though.
His next heat maybe.
Next heat?
"Uh. Jean?" Harry says, startling him out of his thoughts. The alpha looks faintly embarrassed when Jean looks up at him. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, sounding almost shy.
"Y-yeah. Sure. Be nice to get a sober kiss from you for once in my life." he replied, feeling like a blushing bride and not a man of 34 years who'd never once been able to keep a steady relationship as Harry reached down and gently cupped his face between his hands, titling Jean's head up to plant a single, fleeting kiss on his lips. There's a pause as Harry pulls away hesitantly, but when Jean shows no signs of yelling at him or pushing him away, he returns, pressing their lips together.
The kiss quickly deepens and Jean rests his hands against Harry's biceps, subtly feeling them up as their tongues meet, nipping at each other's lips. It feels like an old conversation said with new meaning, and it's honestly the best kiss he's ever received from Harry since he doesn't taste like cheap alcohol or bile nor is he trying to press a pill into Jean's mouth using his own or on one particularly memorable occasion, piss down his throat.
Jean could feel Harry's alpha teeth bared, pressed against his lips and his fangs ached. The alpha ran his tongue along them, and Jean moaned at the feeling as Kim began to press his lips against him again, sucking hickeys into his shoulders and neck just high enough and hard enough that Jean would struggle for at least a few days to hide them.
Harry pulled back and licked his own larger alpha teeth. "Omega fangs… cute," he panted. Jean thought the other might have been teasing him, but Harry was staring at his omega teeth intently.
He really does find them cute.
Feeling bold, Jean growled low and deep, baring them at him. "Do you want me to show you how I use them?"
Both alphas let out twin groans at that, Kim's muffled against Jean's skin.
"Yes please." Harry whispered, and he started to kneel again before Kim reached out and stopped him. "Not here," he said as he sat up, gently urging Jean to unsteady feet. Kim doesn't look much better than Harry right now, his whole face flushed a bright red with a similar wet spot on the front of his pants, though most of it is probably Jean's slick and Harry's spit. Jean feels a surge of pleasure at the sight, the power trip that came with two alphas falling at their literal and metaphorical feet for him, even if he can't picture Kim kneeling for anyone.
Though it did make an incredibly appealing picture. Maybe telling them to kneel. Telling Harry to kneel, to suck him off with his hands tied behind his back, pressing his boot against Harry’s straining cock-
"It would be much more sensible for us to go back to our apartment if we wish to continue this further. Less chance of an interruption, and less chance of this becoming a problem within the rest of the pack," Kim continued, ever the voice of reason, picking up Jean's forgotten towel to clean the slick off the floor, his expression slightly disgruntled at the mess. "…though we'll probably hear rumors about someone having sex in here for the next few weeks. The smell is very noticeable."
Jean felt his blush return to full force. "Yeah, well, too fucking late for that now."
Harry laughed, holding out Jean's bundle of sweaty clothing. "Everyone I'll probably think it was just McCoy and Amélie 'making up'" he replied, using another towel he'd grabbed in a futile attempt to clean his pants before passing it to Kim to do the same, "Everyone knows Tillbrook walked in on them scenting each other in the archives last week." Oh yeah, he remembered that. He'd heard Torson and McLaine snickering about it to each other, and Amélie, the new omega on the Emergencies desk, had barely looked the alpha's way once, too embarrassed at being caught even though scenting each other wasn't the worst thing anyone had been caught doing at work. It barely even registered.
McCoy had been leaving small gifts on her desk for the last week to appease her, mostly chocolate and cakes and-
"Wait," he said, "Did you-have you two been leaving food on my desk this whole week?" Jean questioned, and watched as Kim demeanor closed off, while Harry's turned embarrassed. "Khm. Yes." Kim answered, pushing his glasses up and not making eye contact with Jean while Harry just grinned sheepishly.
"You just didn't look like you were eating enough, and I always buy way too much food to deal with the sugar cravings from, you know, withdrawal and all that, and, uh, Empathy told me that they were your favorites and it always made me so happy and fuzzy and warm when you'd eat them," he explained, "and then I told Kim and he agreed that you hadn't been eating enough at all, so he started leaving them too, because we didn't want you to hurt yourself or something.” Harry, straightened, eyes glazing again for a second before he let out a surprised grunt. “Now that I think about it, it was probably because of your heat? Like weird alpha biology to show that we can provide and stuff, but I guess it was all worth it in the end. Score one for weird instincts!"
Harry's look became nervous, a distant cousin of the Expression pulling at the corners of his eyes. "It was worth it, right? You were seriously, you know, down to disco with Kim and I and all that?"
Jean…didn't know how to answer.
He should be annoyed that they thought he was unable to take care of himself like a grown adult, but if anything, he was flattered that they'd gone out of their way to provide for him. It was textbook courting behavior for an omega in heat, to convince them that they could father strong, independent pups back before they lived in a city with a Frittte! on every corner. It was the kind of behavior you'd show for a potential mate. Harry had seemingly just assumed it was pack stuff and left it at that, but Kim...Kim would have realized what his instincts were telling him to do.
And he'd still done it anyway. Why?
"…You're all good, shitkid. I wasn't that far gone."
"And you're okay with spending the rest of your heat with us?"
"Harry." he snapped, and the alpha's jaw clicked shut. "Don't fucking doubt me. Only I'm allowed to do that. I reserve the right to fucking stop if I want to if it gets too much, but I wouldn't just choose anyone to spend the next three days with at my most vulnerable."
Jean let out an aggravated sigh, pulling his pants and shirt on before continuing. "While this does rank up there among the dumbest shit I've possibly ever done, with you or otherwise, I'm pretty fucking tired of people questioning my decisions. I want to go back to your apartment, I want to make a nest, and then I want both of you to knot my brains out in it till I'm stuffed full of cum. Am I clear?"
Harry nods rapidly, while Kim cleared his throat. "Alright," he said easily, the tension is he face relaxing as the three of them headed towards the door, before he became more serious.
"We will be discussing this – us – later when you are feeling better. As of right now, I do not believe we have any serious concerns with this arrangement,” Kim asserted, making eye contact with the other alpha as Harry nodded again, “but is there anything you want us to know now? Anything we should be worried about, to be aware of?"
Well, that was a no-brainer. "Just don't bond me, or I'll cut your dick off with a knife and shove it so far up your ass you'll have a second tongue." Jean threatened, "Other than that, you're fine. We'll just need to go past my apartment so I can grab some shit.”
"10-4," Harry teased, saluting him, even as Kim made an inquisitive noise in the back of his throat, brows furrowing. "…you are not on birth control, then? Just the regular suppressants and scent blockers?"
"Oh, no. I was on them for a while when I was younger, but it just made me feel sick, so I stopped. Don't have to worry about it though," he replied reaching into his pocket to grab another Astra, scratching at the scars his beard never quite hid, "Cons of being an omega born after the war, and the whole pox thing. Can't have kids, not that I'm too overly distraught about it. Doctors confirmed it when I joined."
"Well then," Kim replied, a small smile on his face, but Jean could see the way his eyes darkened, "I suppose it's worth the risk then, for us to…how did you put it again officer? 'Knot your brains out and fill you up with cum?’"
"Yeah," he muttered, as he was led out to the garage between the two people he trusts more than anyone else, feeling better than he had in years, "Definitely worth the risk."