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]

Where we go, no one can find you. Come.

( His hand on her wrist is a little more gentle now, pulling her toward him and toward the unmarked vehicle he has for this op. He knows she is frightened but he can smell her scent under it and he wants it to blossom. )

[marriageable]

[ She cannot even imagine that is intended to be comforting. She only hears a threat. No one can find you. Will no one ever find her?

I will die tonight. The thought beats into her head, drumming inside it. She thinks of her mother’s face. She thinks of what she will do when she does not come home, not now, and not ever.

Though silent, she starts crying in earnest when they approach the car, and digs her heels in. ]

Please—

[ostavil]

I will not hurt you. You have to obey.

( He does not know why she won't just listen to him. He has already let her have more than he lets most have. )

You are an omega. I won't hurt you.

[marriageable]

[ Omega. Her mind halts and she stops in her tracks, connecting it to the way he had pressed his mask to her neck. Had he been scenting her? She’d witnessed her parents do this ritual all the time growing up, before her father’s passing, and Anthony with his many flings.

She laughs, but it sounds all wrong, warbly and terrible, and lifts her confused eyes to the icy blue of her captor’s. ]

No, no. [ She shakes her head, emphatic. If she’s not an omega, will he let her go? ] You’re mistaken. I’m a beta, not an omega. My mother is, and half of my siblings, but not me. You must’ve — [ her throat closes suddenly, thick with tears. She forces herself to continue. ] You smelt somebody else. Please. I have money. You can have anything you want!

[ostavil]

No. There is no one else to smell. It is you, omega. Only you. I would have killed you if you were a beta.

( It is easy enough to admit that. )

[marriageable]

[ Fear slices through her again. Her eyes jump to the nondescript SUV and back to him, then down to the grasp he has on her hand. The moonlight glints off his arm. ]

Please.

[ It’s small, pathetic. The whole time, she has a crushing feeling it won’t work. ]

[ostavil]

You have to come with me. You won't be safe otherwise. Only I can keep you safe.

( In his mind, he's thinking of HYDRA and what they would do to her as a live witness and, on top of that, what they would do to her if they knew she could control him and his impulses outside of the words. )

Get in.

( Low. Guttural. )

[marriageable]

[ Now, that’s a confusing turn of phrase. Even her panic-fueled state pieces that together. She doesn’t know what it means. In the same breath, she doesn’t think she can trust it either. Whoever he is, he’s clearly mentally unwell and dangerous.

With palpable dread, she acquiescences, climbing into the pitch-black interior of the vehicle.

What other choice is there? There isn’t one. ]

[ostavil]

( No, there is no other choice. HYDRA will kill her if they know she witnessed what happened at the museum and he will not allow that. He does not know his own name or anything but that he is Alpha and she is an omega that he wants and wants to protect. )

No one can find us where I'm taking you. You'll be safe from them.

[marriageable]

[ She doesn’t say anything to that, but it troubles and perplexes her.

Them.
Who was ‘them’?
Was this man clinically insane?
Did he kill Dr. Porter? (She has the sinking suspicion he had.)
Where had he come from?

He straps her in. While he rounds over to the driver’s side, Daphne makes a quick catalogue of the car’s interior. It’s spare inside, a rental she guesses, not lived in, with the windows tinted to the point she can barely see outside. When he slips in, she moves as far as the front seat permits, plastering herself to the car door and looking straight ahead.

The ride to wherever he intends to steal her away to is long and painstakingly silent. She isn’t sure what she expected, but it isn’t that. The entire time, she can feel his gaze on her, as often as it is on the road. The tears dry on her face and the adrenaline wears thin. At one point, fatigued, with her face stuck against the window, she drifts off, only to come to with a jerk of her limbs.

She starts to observe him, close to the end. The mask is never removed, but she senses increasing tension in him, the bunch of his muscles, sweat on his brow.

And she feels — off, her nerves tight, and a little carsick. ]

[ostavil]

( He scents it almost immediately. The warm jasmine of her scent gets thicker in his nose and his heightened senses are on full alert. Omega in heat. It's enough that he knows he'll go into rut from it and it's a good thing he's getting her away from everyone.

He reaches for one of her small hands and puts it on his thigh, holding it there with his own left hand. )

[marriageable]

[ She tries to resist, but his hand is firm and cold and scary, even if it is encased in leather.

The next hour grows increasingly uncomfortable. The air begins to stifle, her joints scream, and her body objects, alternating between warm and cold. She starts to cold sweat, as if she’s hungover, squirming in place.

A soft noise of pain escapes. ] Stop. Please. [ Her voice just above a whisper. ] I’m going to be sick.

[ostavil]

Heat. It isn't safe to stop right now. I have to get you away from everyone else.

( He glances at her as he speeds up his driving, wanting to get to the safe house as quick as possible. It isn't easy with the winding roads but he is an experienced driver. )

[marriageable]

[ The roads fly underneath the tires, but Daphne’s mind is tumbling more quickly than that in denial. She can’t be in heat. She’s not an omega. She’d never shown one single sign of being either designation, and well, she’d never minded.

She doesn’t understand, but biology doesn’t care, a flash of agony doubling her over with a cry of pain that doesn’t let up. ]

I can’t — I can’t breathe.

[ostavil]

( That is enough to get him to stop and he jerks the wheel to pull over to the shoulder. This late, no one will be on the backroads at this time of night. He leans over to open her car door. )

Get in the back. I can help with the heat.

[marriageable]

[ This would be a good time to run, but she barely entertains the notion, at least once she struggles to her feet. Her body won’t listen to her mind; she doesn’t have command over it.

She was right about being sick as well. As soon as she’s vertical, she keels over, lunch coming up. It’s a dramatic show, not arousing in the least, and she begins to weep. She needs a hospital, she thinks, not a backseat. ]

[ostavil]

( She gets sick on the side of the road and the only thing that he can think of doing is reaching out to rub her back soothingly with his right hand, wanting to reassure her that being sick is not going to make him angry or make him hurt her. She's still frightened, he can smell that, and he wants her to want him instead. )

Don't go anywhere. I have water for you.

( And he does in the back of the SUV because even he has to eat and drink. )

[marriageable]

[ The world spins. She’s clutching the car door for stability, sure if she lets go her knees will give way and she might fall in her own sick. Tears run down her face, half fear, half from the exertion. She feels him stray.

Now is another opportunity to run.

Her head lifts, blinking to clear her vision. There are no cars. She can’t hear any in the distance either, but the air... it is sweet and cool on her face, fresher than anything in London.

She doesn’t go anywhere. Her feet won’t let her, even when she tries to put one in front of the other. Something is wrong. That much she knows. Woozy, she presses her forehead against the side of the car.

That’s when her cunt clenches around nothing, once, twice. One second she’s dry, the next wet. ]

[ostavil]

( By the time he gives her the water bottle he can smell it, the thick smell of her scent in his nose in a way that only means heat. He remembers nothing about his life but this is primal and he needs no memories for it. )

Drink this and scent me. You will feel better if you do.

[marriageable]

[ More wetness answering his command. Why? Her knees are trembling and her mind ablaze, but she listens. It takes too long to unscrew the top and bring it to her lips, water sliding down her throat, gulping it down. She’s never felt this extreme thirst in her life, nor so hot.

She doesn’t quite realize she’s moving, dropping the water bottle and practically falling into his chest. Scenting. She’s seen many romantic films with Alphas and Omegas. With some hesitation, her hand loops around his hand, bending her face down, burying into the little show of pale skin between glove and sleeve.

Her panties flood with slick. ]

[ostavil]

( He lets her be for a moment and then pulls off his glove so she can scent him better than she can just now. She would feel better if she scented his neck or if she let him take care of her with his knot but this will do for now. )

I can help. I want to help.

[marriageable]

[ His skin smells of warmth and balsam firs and tomes, heavy books with dusty covers that must be carefully handled. The animal takes over, rubbing her forehead against his wrist, sliding his palm over her damp cheek. She’s scared, but she knows to do this. ]

Am I dying? Will I?

[ostavil]

No. You need an alpha. You need a knot.

( He says it firmly but not unkindly. He wraps his titanium arm around her and pulls her closer, tilting his head so she can rise on her toes and scent his neck instead where the scent is stronger. )

I won’t let anyone hurt you.

[marriageable]

[ She should be terrified of him. She should be screaming. He threatened to kill her. He kidnapped her.

She isn’t.

The heat is overwhelming. This is heat, it dawns on her. She’s in a medical emergency. She won’t die, not unless she doesn’t get knotted, and soon. Her omega knows this. It screams inside.

She burrows her face into his neck, sucking in mouthfuls of his scent to settle her stomach and anxiety. She doesn’t realize she’s started to lick at the skin, but his sweat is on her tongue and her fingers are scrabbling at his armor. ]

[ostavil]

( The backseat of the SUV can be taken out for cargo hauling and so he lets her scent him a little more before pulling away to do just that, setting it on the ground with ease. His strength is more than enough to push this vehicle over entirely, actually, but he has to be gentle with her. She needs gentle.

He never takes off his mask during a mission because his face can never be captured on a camera but he does it now, setting it aside before starting to work on his armor. )