sundown | for bucky.

for bucky.

[ She should really be heading home.

It’s the same thought she’s been having for the past hour — everybody else had filed out long ago, the hour hand on the wall ticking past eight. The museum had been closed three hours past already; she was sure to hear it from her mother for being late again to supper. It was not like Daphne to be late anywhere, save for the acceptable tardiness when one was being fashionable, or giving the host time to freshen up.

But she likes her job, and she really doesn’t mind the tasks handed to her; she’s the youngest of the curators, after all, eager to prove her worth.

Even if not absorbed in her work, she would think anything of a creak, or a shuffling noise in the distance. Maintenance came in at night, and old buildings make all sorts of noises.

None of it registers, until she shoulders her purse and flicks the lights off. A rustle, followed by a thud. In the dim hallway, she casts her eyes over toward the open door to the director’s office.

Something stills her from moving forward, but she calls out anyways, because it’s nothing, naturally, just another weekday night — ]

I’m heading out now, Dr. Porter. I’ll see you in the morning.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( As much as he wants to rut into her fast and hard, he keeps himself gentle instead. She is small and soft and he will break her beneath his hands if he isn't careful. He has to make sure that she's all right, that omega is safe and sound.

He offers his neck to her to scent it. He can get so much of her scent just from fucking her but she probably needs more of his than he can give her without her scenting him. )

[ Encouraged, she hunts along his shoulder and neck, nose finding and digging into his scent gland, pulling it in gulping breaths. She hasn’t been fucked in ages, though, and as good as it feels it, she quickly learns it isn’t enough. She does not want him to be gentle, and shows him so, pressing at his hips and ass insistently, trying to hurry his thrusting. ]

( She does not want it gentle. He had assumed she would, being so small and so frightened, but with her encouragement he presses into her even deeper and pulls her legs up around his waist to change the angle. He has brutal strength even when he is trying to hold back and he knows her thighs will be bruised with his fingertips when they are done; he will tend to her afterward. )

[ Maybe she doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into, but that’s alright. Her legs wrap around his waist, fingers holding onto his back to brace herself, and then he begins to really fuck her, hard, fast, hips snapping into hers in a frenzy. Her cries of unfiltered joy punctuate every thrust, lacquered nails biting into his skin. ]

( She cannot hurt him, not really, but the scratch of her nails on his back feels good and he lets out a low moan and really pushes then, punishing almost with how hard he's using her. He knows it's better for her this way but in a way, he feels selfish. )

[ He is a man of violence, and she has not one violent bone in her body, but she is no shrinking violet. His brutality grounds her, her body accepting it readily; she moves to nip at his earlobe, moaning in unison with him, hers growing in volume as her climax looms. ]

( He can smell that she's close and he bites down on her neck, wanting to mark her. Some part of him knows to avoid her scent gland and not make it a mating bite but it's a mark of ownership nonetheless. His knot catches before he's even close to finishing and he's no less rough after it does. )

[ His teeth burrow in her neck, his knot expands, and that’s all the permission she needs to come, violently and breathlessly beneath him, overtaken by bliss. ]

( She comes around his knot and he cannot help himself - he bites her scent gland and mates her. He's only Alpha now and there is no other instinct. )

[ The scent of blood flowers in the air, ripe jasmine. Daphne does not know what happens in the moments that follow the bite. It’s all a blur; she might have passed out, coming so hard, and trembles beneath him when she comes to, clammy but content. ]

( When he finishes, he realizes what he has done and he is pleased with himself; now he can protect her forever and no one will question his right to do it. She smells pleased and looks pleased so his Alpha is preening.

He shifts a little to balance his weight more on his arms so he isn't crushing her. )

Mine now.

[ She looks like she’s been ravished, which is exactly it, a sheen of sweat on her face and chest that makes her glow, radiating in her joy. She’s usually content after she comes; this has only been heightened in her omega state, knotted and drinking up his seed.

He hasn’t kissed her yet and her omega is too shy to initiate things, but she turns her head to nuzzle against his arm. ] Yours.

( He doesn't think he's ever kissed anyone or had a woman and certainly not bonded a mate. He doesn't remember. He doesn't know. Some things just come to him in snatches that he thinks are memories and then they are all wiped clean and smooth again.

He's shy about kissing her too but his instincts have him trying to initiate it anyway, lips brushing against her hair. )

I have nothing that is mine. I don't even have a name.

[ She peers up at him with sleepy eyes, a milk drunk kitten. His knot has calmed her, relaxed her completely and somewhat addled her brain. She’s still mostly omega, not Daphne, but her higher brain functioning assumes he’s being metaphorical. ]

You’re Alpha, [ she reminds him, sweetly. ] What else do you want to be called?

( He smiles at being called Alpha because that, at least, is an identity he can cling to. When she asks him what he wants to be called, he looks away a little. )

I have no name. They call me zimniy soldat.

[ His smile is a pretty thing, and her heart leaps, omega giddy. That smile was for her. She reaches to trace his mouth.

Her brown furrows. It sounds Eastern. ]

I don’t understand. What does it mean?

It means Winter Soldier. It is all I am. I kill who they tell me to kill and I retrieve whatever they tell me to retrieve. If I fail, they punish me.

( This is the first time he's ever told this story to anyone at all but it feels safe to tell it to her. He feels like she won't spill his secrets. He does worry for her safety, however, because they are relentless. )

There aren't supposed to be witnesses...but I couldn't hurt you. They couldn't make me hurt you.

[ She goes pale. Not even his knot can stop the horror that begins to roll off of her, a whimper in the back of her throat, crowding closer to his arm. Making herself smaller under him, prey to be protected. Rather than be scared of his ability to kill, because she knew that already, that’s reassuring for her omega — he would kill for her. That feels true. But everything else sounds of danger and scares her. ]

( She's recoiling from him and what he is. He isn't Alpha any longer, he's the soldier, and that is something to be frightened of. He doesn't want her to be afraid and he hates that he doesn't know how to soothe her. )

I don't want to be this. They made me this. They control me. I want to keep you safe from them. They already hurt me, what's one more turn? I could not let them hurt you. That's why I had to take you with me.

[ She has no choice but to listen. What he says sounds like Latin to her, somebody sheltered completely from all violence.

Daphne squirms beneath his body, squeezing her eyes shut. It doesn’t stop him. At last, she whispers: ]

Then don’t be. Don’t let them hurt me. Please. [ Her voice breaking. ] Please don’t hurt me.

I won't let them hurt you. I won't let me hurt you. They have...there are words they use to control me, to lock my mind in so I can't think. It isn't like that around you. I chose not to hurt you because I could choose it. You belong to me.

( All of it tumbles around in his mind in a confusing blur and the only thing that makes sense is their bond as mates. Nothing else. He can blend into the world but he isn't of the world. Not any longer. Not ever, possibly. )

When I scent you, their control disappears.

[ Confused does not begin to cover it. She hadn’t known she was an Omega until a while ago; much less having to compute everything he’s saying, and that he still, she knows, made her come with him by force and threat.

The last part doesn’t seem so bad now. He seems to have a reason, maybe some remorse.

She likes the part about her scent. It swells pride in her. (Normal Daphne will find the whole thing horrifying, and curse the stupidity of a fucked out omega, but she’s more or less vacated the premises.)

She’s been avoiding his eyes, but she peeks up now, the color returning to her complexion. ]

I belong to you. You knew that when you scented me? That quickly?

I have never smelled an omega before. Not before you. Not like you. I don't know if I had before and they took it from me - I don't have any memories.

( He lives in the present only because that is where he operates. There is nothing of the past or future in him. )

I was no one and then I was Alpha. That is all I know.

[ Does that make her special or not? Her omega frets. If he’s speaking the truth, it doesn’t sound like it. You were simply available. That’s all. Her eyes begin to water, overwhelmed, taking in a shuddering breath. His own chaotic thoughts and emotions seem to be channeled into her. ]

( She is crying. He has to soothe her and he doesn’t know how; is he a bad Alpha? Does she hate him for all of this? He lifts his hand to her face and touches it lightly. )

You are special to me. I think they prevent me from smelling people at all. I still smell you, omega. Do you still want to be mine?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject