Chapter Text
There are levels of bad in situations and Prompto considers 'strange thing we were hunting spraying his friends with weird pollen' somewhere around the 'Oh Shit' level. He got a face full of it too but other than making him sneeze at the syrupy sweet smell and whine because he looked like he'd rolled around in glitter, it didn't do much. He almost doesn't realize there's a problem as he's trying to dust himself off, grumbling about the stupid thing getting away, until it hits him that no one has said anything since Ignis' terse 'Look out' when the thing had sprayed them.
He turns, wondering what's going on behind him, and finds his friends watching him. No, not just watching but staring him down with a disturbing amount of focus. Noctis' pupils are stretched wide, turning his eyes dark and strange, and a flush is spreading across his cheeks. Ignis is glitter covered and without his glasses and squinting at him, head cocked to the side curiously. Gladio, face scrunched up in confusion, has his lips parted around panted breaths and is blinking down at Prompto like doing so is taking tremendous effort.
He calls to them and takes a step closer, concerned. He's not dumb, he can see that something is happening to them that isn't happening to him. "Guys?"
"Something is wrong." Ignis mutters, gaze falling to the glasses he's cradling in his hands. "Something-"
"Rut." Gladio rasps, rocking back on his heels like he's been struck.
Noctis lets out a confused sound. He reaches up and out, puts a hand on Ignis' shoulder, and he shakes his head. His eyes are still on Prompto, sliding up and down his body and Prompto can almost feel it like a physical touch to his skin. "No. It's not time. Should have months."
"That beast." Ignis' speaks with almost exaggerated slowness; Prompto has never seen or heard him like this, like every word is taking everything he has. Ignis is always so quick, so on top of everything. This is terrifying. "The spores from it's back. Prompto are you feeling heat symptoms?"
"What?" He feels heat rushing up his face. "No! You...what?"
Ignis smiles at him, amused for a moment then turns to look at Gladio. "Only alphas then? Or a delayed reaction."
Gladio grimaces, lips pulling back to show teeth that Prompto knows weren't that sharp five minutes ago. There's a ring of gold around his eyes. "Don't know. Don't care. Let's fix it."
Ignis murmers his agreement and the potions come out. Prompto hovers nearby, now acutely aware that the familiar scents of his friends are touched with something musky and earthy that's twisting his stomach up in knots. Drinks are opened and vials cracked and eyes stay on him, burning into him. He can't even speak to them, his tongue is dry and thick, sticking to the roof of his mouth, and he's sweating. He almost thinks maybe he is being effected but no, it's not heat it's just having three strong alphas turn their total focus on him.
It's enough to make his knees shake.
None of the curatives work, much to their frustration. Ignis curses, actually curses, and it's so shocking Prompto's mouth falls open. By the time they give up he finds himself the focus of some very hungry looks and he can feel something vibrating in the air between them. They exchange looks, pass information between themselves. Gladio growls and Ignis sighs but both nod as well, agreeing to something.
It's Noctis who tells him he needs to go. "Leave us here. Take the car back to the haven." He's sweating and the glimmer of alpha gold around his blown wide pupils is more visible with each passing moment.
"I can't...I can't leave you." He shuffles his feet on the hardpacked earth. "I'm not allowed to drive the Regelia, right?"
Ignis laughs breathily. "I think we can make an exception just this once."
"But-"
"You can't stay." Gladio says, tone hard. "You don't know what you're doing to us."
He has an idea, can smell and taste it on the air. He's not sure how to feel about it yet, having all these very clear 'lust' signals being thrown at him by these three. It's happened before, with random alphas who think they can just push their influence out and make him swoon, but never like this. He's never been impressed by that sort of thing and sure as hell never swooned and yet here he is, near jelly legged even though their standing a few meters away and they're out in the open.
He sucks in a breath through his teeth then shakes his head. "What are you going to do if I leave?"
Noctis shrugs. "Stay. Wait it out."
"What if you can't wait it out? What if you...wander?" The word tastes like ash in his mouth. He can see them about to argue, all three looking offended and annoyed, so he barrels on, doesn't give them time. "I'll take care of you. It's...it's better that way."
Noctis shakes his head. "No. That isn't happening. You can't-"
"I can." He hopes he can, really hopes he can, but he makes his voice hard and his face determined. He knew he was right about this. Three alphas, each strong in their own right, in rut. Everyone knows that alphas can lose it during ruts; if omegas become submissive and needy then alphas become hyper aggressive and demanding. There are stories about omegas and betas in the wrong place at the wrong time being hurt, badly, by out of control alphas. About alphas tearing each other apart because of rut madness.
"I can help. I can...I can do this. You'd help if it was me."
"It's different." Noctis' looks like he's in pain, sounds like it too. "Ruts are...different."
Prompto nods. "I know. That stuff might make you go find someone else. You might hurt them or each other if it doesn't just past."
He can't let that happen. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he could have done something and didn't and the worst happened. It has to be him and he knows that and he can tell they know it by how quiet they get.
"We might hurt you." Gladio says, looking away from him for the first time in what seems like hours. "Three alphas in a rut is...a lot."
"You won't hurt me." He doesn't think they will, tries to press that into his voice. He's willing, he's capable, it's not like he's never thought about being with any of them. It'll be fine. "I know you won't."
"Shit." Noctis says, shoulders drooping.
Ignis nods. "Indeed."
It takes a little more cajoling but he's basically won and it seems like it happens just in time because Noctis mutters about needing to get going and when he glances down Prompto can see his friend is pitching a serious tent in his pants. And isn't the only one. Whatever that stuff was doing it was doing it fast.
Prompto manages to get everyone back to the haven they’d left that morning but it’s an exercise in frustration as he’s smacked in the face with alpha rut scents and some people have wandering hand (”Noct, buddy, no groping while I’m driving! What would my mother say if she found out I died with your hand down my pants?”) and others have dirty fucking mouths (Gladio’s voice is dark and rough as he lists off all the things he wants to do to Prompto. Some of them don’t sound anatomically possible.) and Ignis is just slumped over in the backseat, sweat drenched and shivering (and, honestly, Ignis being silent while all this goes on is downright scary.)
Things breakdown as soon as he starts pushing them towards their, still blessedly intact, camp site. As in Gladio decides Prompto would be better off being carried and doesn’t seem to care that Prompto doesn’t want to be carried, Noctis starts losing clothes on the walk and Ignis is still being very quiet.
Prompto can already see how this is going to go down and he’s fine with it, mostly. He always goes all or nothing so why not go full on group rut sex for his first alpha experience? And these are his friends and they need something (an omega. They need an omega and he's an omega and he can do this for them, he can be useful and not just the guy with a camera they protect) and he can provide it and he’s willing.
A part of him is worried, freaking out. Ruts. Ruts are so-
But he tells himself his friends wouldn’t hurt him, to just relax as they tear his clothes away, to give in when it starts. If not for the situation this would be a dream come true (his friends are good proper alphas, who dote on him and take care of him and never ever cross the line even when he’s throwing out ‘Please for the love of God, someone cross the fucking line’ signals, even though he's not technically pack, even though he's unclaimed) but. The situation is what it is. They don’t want him because they want him, they want him because they’re out of their minds and he’s the closest wet, willing hole.
Better him than to have them going in search of someone else and doing something they’d hate themselves for later.
It doesn’t start out so bad. They’re panting for it and rough, shoving and pulling but he pushes his scent and presence out, tries to be a useful omega who soothes their pack, and it helps. They get him wet and open to take Ignis first while he opens his mouth up for Noctis and reaches a hand for Gladio, and it goes almost smoothly at first.
It doesn’t stay that way but he didn’t expect it to. They’re too much for him to keep sated and way too much for him to keep soothed while he tries. He can tell when the rut takes them over, pushes out the higher brain function and leaves him with three near animals, because the biting starts. Noctis is the first, yanking his head back by the hair and sinking teeth into his throat hard enough to draw blood and make him scream and then…then it’s like a dam breaks and his friends are washed away in the flood that pours out.
The biting. He knew they would bite, alphas bite, but not...not like this. Not mating bites, that wasn't supposed to happen. He swears and pushes but he's passed over to Gladio, bitten again, and he knows it's going to happen again, sees it in the golden sheen over Ignis' eyes, just sobs when it does.
No no no. He wants to stop them, to call an end to the whole thing because they *bit* him, but his body is heavy, yielding to them because now he's theirs.
They are aggressive and they are demanding. They want and want and take until Prompto can barely remember his own name and he’s sore from being knotted so many times, scratched up and bitten over, going to be black and blue all over in the morning. He’s stuffed full of cum (they use their fingers to keep it inside of him, scooping it up when it runs free and pushing it back in while he mewls weakly and thinks that alphas are such weird, gross people.) sticky with it, throat raw from shouting and from being fucked. And then they take more and it all just fades away around him.
He wakes up alone. Cleaned up, bandaged, dressed, and alone. He feels like…well, like he just got marathon gangbanged by his pack. Tender and achy and uncomfortable in his skin, like it’s suddenly too tight for his body or something is missing.
He stumbles out of the tent to find that it’s dusk (which means it’s been at least a day and some change) and they’re all sitting around a low burning fire, not talking. Or looking at each other. Or looking at him. He takes in hunched shoulders, shadowed eyes, and deep frowns and wants to say something but nothing comes to mind so he just sits down with them instead.
He expects apologies, and is ready to wave them off and assure them it’s all fine, but nothing comes. He thinks they might be beyond the point where an apology seems like enough. Noctis keeps glancing at him, at his neck, and then hunching deeper into his chair. Gladio’s hands are curled into fists so tight his knuckles are white and Prompto thinks he can smell blood. Ignis takes his glasses off to clean them no less than four times in ten minutes, scowls at the dirt, and shifts anxiously.
“Hey, guys,” He starts and they flinch as a collective. “It’s fi-”
“Don’t say it’s fine.” Gladio snaps then, wincing visibly, reaches up to rub at his eyes. “It’s not fine. None of this is fine.”
“That is…an understatement.” Ignis adds, eyes on some point past everything. “I’m amazed you’re on your feet.”
Prompto opens his mouth. Shuts it, tries to remember how the breathe around the tightness in his lungs and speak around the soreness in his throat he feels every time he swallows. Tries to ignore just how much he hurts.
He swallows. “It wasn’t your fault. It was-”
“Don’t.” Noctis says, shaking his head. “Just. Don’t.”
So he doesn’t.