for bucky.

[marriageable]

[ 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.

Comments

[ostavil]

( It makes him happy. He doesn't remember the last time he felt anything at all, much less happy, and it makes him beam with the attention. He dips his head down to nuzzle at her neck. )

I want to keep you.

[marriageable]

Oh— [ Gasped, her eyes fluttering shut, cunt clenching in answer. Wanting, she slips her arm behind her, to the crown of his head, drawing him closer to her skin. ]

[ostavil]

I will give you everything you need. No one will bother us here and you can have everything you want. I'll take care of you.

( It feels good to nurture instead of hurt and he knows he must smell content. )

[marriageable]

[ All of that sounds good, sounds exactly as it should. Moreover, it feels right, which means it must be. Intellectually, she isn’t intimately familiar with the ins and outs of this. She isn’t supposed to be part of this world. She was the only Bridgerton without a designation, much to her mother’s incredulousness, and that was okay. She had seen what happened to her when her father died. ]

Can you — move? Just a little.

[ostavil]

Move?

( There isn't far he can go, tied to her, but he draws his hips away as much as he dares and pushes back in against her. His knot tugs but doesn't pull out. )

[marriageable]

Yes — that’s good. [ A breathy whine, the hand not in his hair moving low, right above where he is connected to her. Brushing against her swollen clit. ]

[ostavil]

( Not that he understands what she needs, he slips his own hand down to replace hers, fingertips rubbing against her as he moves his hips again. )

[marriageable]

[ She mewls approvingly, letting him take over, take her over. Clutching at the hand that took place of hers, turning her head against his shoulder to seek his mouth. She wants him all over her. She wants to be claimed. ]

[ostavil]

( She seeks the kiss and he gives it to her, messy and breathless, and works her clit faster with his fingers. He knows how to do this instinctually, how to move within her so his knot gives her the constant stimulation she needs. )

Come for me, omega. I need it.

[marriageable]

[ Her body is a live wire, her hips pressing back, his knot ground into her. A high-pitched sob rents from her throat, her lips open against his mouth. An answer to the command, coming instantly. ]

[ostavil]

( He has the feeling that her orgasm will make his knot last longer because it feels too good with her coming around him and he buries his face against her neck and shoulder as she does. )

Did you need it?

[marriageable]

[ Afterward, she’s contented, and lazy. She feels small and safe tucked like this in his arms; his words make her want to praise him, to murmur sweetly to her unnamed alpha, once so scary. Now, burrowed against and inside her, not so much. ]

You made it better. I knew you would.

[ostavil]

Good. You should not have to suffer if you don't have to.

( He doesn't remember his name or anything but his training but he remembers the instinctual things between alpha and omega and this is one of them. He likes holding her close like this. )

[marriageable]

[ That encourages a sigh from her, sweeping a hand down her stomach, over the pressure of her aching womb. It’s tender, but pleasurably so. A good ache. Meaning she is full with him, both his knot and his seed.

She knows the answer, but still she wants to hear it from his lips. Needs to. ]

Did Alpha like it, too?

[ostavil]

Alpha loves it. Alpha needed it too.

( He isn't sure if he's in rut but it feels like it; he thinks he hasn't had a rut in a long time. He doesn't remember. He doesn't remember anything before Daphne the Omega and taking her away from his mission. )

[marriageable]

[ It feels like a silly question, what with how he’s knotted her — obviously he liked it enough to knot her! — but Daphne has always fed off of praise. It’s no different now, here. If anything, it’s more necessary. She smiles into the pillow at the confirmation, pleased, feeling very accomplished with herself. ]

Good.

[ostavil]

I know I want you more. I feel...my skin feels hot and my brain is clouded.

( He presses his cheek against her hair to seek some sort of relief and he doesn't know why but her presence, her scent...they relieve his anxieties and soothe him. )

[marriageable]

Oh. [ she breathes, reaching back to stroke his hair, damp with sweat, the feral scent coming in waves off of him. ] - Oh. [ He's rutting. Her body knows it, too, how his own presses needily into her, the way he calms himself, how high his scent is in her nose. She mewls back, more omega than Daphne, then tries to shake it off to explain. ] You're in rut, my love.

[ostavil]

( No one ever speaks kind words to him. He's just a tool to be used, a gun to be fired at whoever HYDRA wants to be their target. He never has anyone call him by a name other than soldier or asset and he has never been called love by anyone before. He nuzzles into her hair. )

You care enough to help me?

[marriageable]

[ That warrants a turn of her head, or as far as she can go, so that she can address his concern. For her to draw his eyes up to hers, three fingers under his chin. ]

Why wouldn't I? You helped me.

[ostavil]

I know. I am not...supposed to have things. So I don't think I am used to people who care about me.

( This is more difficult than he thinks it should be. Where are his words? Why isn't he able to just...be? )

[marriageable]

[ Her face creases with concern, with pain on his behalf, almost as if she feels that pain as her own. ]

That isn’t right. It shouldn’t be that way. [ She takes a breath. Reaches to stroke his hair again. Her mating gland throbs. ] It — it doesn’t have to be that way.

[ostavil]

It doesn't?

( It's strange to question it, to question anything, but he wants to. He wants to believe he can have something and the something he wants is Daphne. If he's allowed to have her as his omega, he thinks his life will be a lot better even if he isn't sure exactly how to make her happy. )

What can it be like?

[marriageable]

[ Daphne turns as much as she's capable of doing, which granted, isn't much, being stuck together. She wants to see his face. His face fills her vision. She reaches to pet his hair. ]

It can feel ... warm. [ She hesitates on that last word before settling on it. ] And beautiful. Life is beautiful, when you let it be.

[ostavil]

I want to see that.

( What he doesn't say is that he doesn't think he'll be able to because he's never been able to escape their leash for long. This is already pushing it, actually, but he wants to live in the fantasy of it for a little longer. )

I want to see it with you.