[ The thing that Sam intends to take to the grave is this: he didn't actually know if he was going to get out. He had believed Stark and sent him after Bucky and Steve as an ally... and then not seen or heard from either party. Just had to sit in his cell, imagine what his poor late mother would say if she were still alive to see him like this - he imagines she'd click her tongue and complain about how the colour of the prison garb washes him out, in an effort not to cry over her son being in prison.
And then the days stretched on. No calls, no lawyers. Clint and Scott were led away eventually, didnt return. Sam only knows what happened with them because Ross showed up once to gloat, tontry and get Sam to talk about Steve, about Nat, about Bucky.
He doesn't know where they are.
And that realization had to be enough, had to sustain him. Clinging to the thought that they were out there and free. That his sacrifice hadn't been in vain. Sure, he was gonna rot away in prison meant to hold super powered people, locked away without due process for doing what he still believes is the right thing.
So yeah - he doesn't think he will get out. Doesn't think Stark will care enough about his two former team mates still left on the Raft, doesn't think two super soldiers and a world class agent/spy are enough versus the Raft.
Mouthes off against the guards to keep their attention off Wanda, cause Sam isn't blind to the things an environment like this does to already skewed power dynamics. They don't do more than knock him around a bit, feed him a little less.
When you lock people up without due process, whonis gonna hold you to any sort of standard as to how you treat your inmates?
And then, one day, it all changes. Guards drop and Steve is right there, and the horror of the situation becomes fuel for future nightmares rather than an ongoing reality.
Freedom tastes like ice cold rain on his chapped lips.
Natasha is a sight for sore eyes, and Sam manages to find a smile to drag onto his lips from somewhere. His dark skin is ashy other than the deep purple bruising on his face, cheeks a little sunken. Under the scent of prison and the alpha guards strutting around, Sam's own sweet and wild scent is sour with barely restrained hurt and fear. It clings to him like a parasite. And still, for Natasha, he smiles as if there's nothing wrong with his world, all because she grounds him with that hand in his knee. For Natasha he makes an effort to look less haunted. ]
[ The fear and hurt in his scent is enough to make her want to rage for an entirely new reason. Her gaze drinks in the sight of the state he’s in and she reaches out to cup a hand against his cheek, thumb brushing gently against the bruised skin but careful not to hurt him. Maybe, however, to leave a scent over that of the ones who caused this pain. ]
You’ve looked better. Although you didn’t have a building almost drop on you this time, so I suppose it could have been worse.
[ Her humor drifts away after that, because the smile is hard to keep up in the face of his pain. ] I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner, Sam. We’re about an hour and a half out from a safe house. But there’s some food and water to hold you over until we get there, if you want some? What do you need?
[ it's subtle, the way his eyelids drop a little, the way his face shifts. The way he takes a breath that hitches slightly. As if he's trying to search that comforting scent, but doesn't dare chase this. Doesn't dare ask for it. Instead his smile softens. ]
Hey, I wore good Jean's that day. Looked real nice.
[ but when his eyes focus back on her, it's with some concern - for Natasha, not for himself. ]
You came. Full stop. Don't gotta apologize for anything, Tasha. You got us, that's all that matters.
[ But he's also smart enough to recognize that Natasha wants to do something. Wants to fuss a bit - needs it maybe. And Sam is bad at asking for help, at letting others meet his needs. But meeting hers? Yeah... he can do that. ]
Some water would be great. And uh... blockers, if we got any. They didn't give us suppressant. I'm not far out.
[ It might be subtle but she knows him too well to miss it, especially with how she watches his expression shift. She lets her touch linger there as he answers, only pulling away when he requests what he needs. Even then, it’s only far enough to tug one of the duffels stashed under one of the seats. Unzipping it, she tugs out a pair of water bottles, a bag of peanuts, a couple of granola bars, and an apple to set on the bench beside him, giving him a look that clearly states she expects him to put something in his stomach when he can.
Another moment of searching through it and she comes up with the scent blockers. She doesn’t hold them out to him just yet, however, fidgeting with them in her hand instead.
News that they hadn’t let them have suppressants would have to change their plans somewhat. She searches his face a moment before flicking a glance at Steve and then pointedly dropping the blockers back in the duffel and shoving it back under the seat. Instead, she comes to sit beside him, resting her hand on his arm this time, hoping the contact would continue to help, as it had seemed to. ]
If that’s the case, the blockers are going to be pointless anyway. Do we have enough time to make it to the safe house or do we need to make an emergency stop somewhere?
[ Sam accepts the water and the food. And partakes in both - Natasha isn't bossing him around, but he knows how this works. Sometimes alphas need to be listened to. And sometimes it feels oh so food for an omega to do as told. Usually he bucks against that - right now he knows they noth kind of need that.
Or maybe he's just so far gone already that he just wants to submit to someone's every whim. ]
Ain't been in heat in years. Figure the blockers gonna make sure y'all can put distance between yourself and me. Just drop me at a safe house, pick me up in a few days. I'm gonna be a liability on the group otherwise.
[ he says it casually, as if it wouldn't be a big deal. As if he isn't going to suffer without any relief if he goes through this alone. But he would never ask someone to take care of him - and so he pitches what he thinks is a better solution for everyone else.
Even as he leans into Natasha's touch just a little. Even as he has to swallow a desperate whine. ]
[ She listens to his casual dismissal with an expression that only grows with incredulous disbelief the longer he speaks. By the time he finishes, even as he leans into that touch, she’s already sliding that hand up his arm and shoulder and reaching out to cup his face between her hands, turning his face so he focuses on her.
Her expression is firm as she holds his gaze, wanting him to understand she’s not joking in the least in her answer. ]
You have never been, nor will you ever be, a liability to any of us. And if you think for one minute we’re just gonna drop you in a safe house and let you handle this alone… [ There’s the faintest hint of a growl in her voice at the very idea. ] I’m gonna have to start checking you over for a concussion or brain damage.
[ She can feel Steve’s eyes on her, on them, and something about that has her hackles raising, which is uncalled for and unusual in itself, but nothing about any of this is normal. Especially when Sam’s scent is still so tinged by pain and fear. It’s all she can do right now not to climb into his lap so she can wrap herself around him until that scent goes away. ]
You are not going through your first heat in years alone. Hell, we wouldn’t let you go through that alone even if you hadn’t been on suppressants. So what’s it going to be, Sam? Me or Steve?
[ It’s surprisingly harder for her to get that section option out, even though she wants him to have a choice in this. As much of one as he can, with his own physiology working against him right now. She doesn’t want him to feel forced, but enduring a heat alone is torture and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but especially not someone so important to her.
She leans forward, resting her forehead against his own, her hands still warm and gentle against his cheeks, holding him close. She inhales, breathes in his scent and it’s… different, somehow. Maybe it’s the lack of suppressants or blockers or something else, but there’s something under the hurt and the fear that teases her senses. Makes her want to explore it, breathe it in until she knows every nuance of it. ]
[ theres a part of Sam that simply registers the comfort and reassurance. That appreciates the choice she let's him have, even though technically it's not much of a choice. And sometimes about the way in which she says "someone is going to fuck you through your heat, you just gotta take your pick of alpha" makes something inside his guts flare.
The quinjet floods with the scents of coconut and cocoa butter, of bergamot and lavender, of wild honey and oranges. Sweet and rich and fresh, a little spicy, a little wild. And Sam's lips part on his inhale, dragging the scent Natasha is pressing onto his skin over his tongue like a man parched.
Steve looks over with some alarm. Calls Natasha's name, concerned, and starts moving over.
And Sam?
Sam whines as the unmistakable scent of omega slick seeps into his own, heat kicking in like full force because his instincts just register that an alpha is taking charge of him, and he wants and wants and wants...
If he's not all there anymore, that's neither here nor there. But he makes a needy sound and leans in, neck bared in offering.
There was an illusion of choice there, for half a second. And now it's just a reality of need, a submission to Natasha. A need to be claimed and had. ]
[ The word is sharp and aimed at Steve, whose steps stutter to an aborted halt behind her at her tone. Smart of him, because if he’d come much closer, they might really have had a problem. Especially with the sound of Sam’s whine in her ears, the scent of him flooding her senses. Her own eyes have flashed dark for a moment and she closes them to focus, but taking a breath isn’t calming anything right now.
So she does what she can, while she still has the focus to do so. He can probably figure most of it out on his own but she doesn’t want any missteps here. Not with Sam already offering her his throat without a word and two very dominant alphas in one enclosed, airborne space. That’s not even touching on the volatility of Wanda being caught in here with them too, after what she’s been through. Natasha doesn’t look away from Sam, however, keeping her hands on him, wanting him to know that sharp tone hadn’t been directed at him. ]
Steve, I’m going to need you to land the plane where we talked about and then you need to get Wanda into one of the safehouses. Take the one closer to the jet. I’ll get Sam off to the one closer to the woods when its safe to move. [ She does risk a glance in his direction then, making sure he understood. Something silent passes between them before her lips quirk wryly. ] Try not to crash us into the ocean, would you? I don’t think I’ll look nearly as good at 90 as you do.
[ She’s already turned her attention back to Sam and misses Steve’s response, but she’s aware of every step he takes away from them and towards the cockpit and something in her relaxes a little more at the distance now between them.
She nudges Sam slightly to shift positions and then she does what she’d wanted to earlier, slides in to straddle his lap between her knees as she takes a seat there, fitting easily and letting her arms wrap around him. Wrapping him in her scent as she drags him close. One hand slides up to cup at the nape of his neck, drawing him in, letting his face bury against her throat as she tries to let her own scent reassure him. Block out everything else in that moment.
Her lips trail against his own throat, responding to the submission he gave her. Although for the moment, it’s just soft, gentle kisses, soothing him as her fingers stroke against the nape of his neck with the faintest scrape of nails. ]
I’ve got you, Sam. It’s alright now. You’re safe. Take a deep breath for me.
[ She knows his heat is starting, but if she can get him relaxed enough, they might still be able to make it to the safe house before the worst of it sets in. She doesn’t know if tricking his system into slowing down under the wash of her voice and touch and scent will work, but she’s going to try anyway. ]
[ it'seasy to fall into her here, and it has the desired effect. The way Natasha takes charge of him but doesn't actually push on his need. Doesn't stooe the fire, but doesn't try to smother it either. Sam hides his face in her neck, just breathing. His heart beats too fast and hard in his chest, like a cornered animal. The fear is partly because of the situation still being precarious - and partly because it's been a long time since Sam has lost himself to his secondary gender like this. It's terrifying for a man who doesn't let anyone else be in true charge of him anymore, ever.
But Natasha is a solid weight in his lap, gives solid direction. The part of Sam that's still himself is calmed, reassured. The part of Sam that wants to bury himself in her scent, lick it out of her and get himself full and filled with it, is soothed for now.
He mumbles an apology into her neck but doesn't raise his head. Just clings to her and shudders with every motion of the quinjet, with every whiff of scent that confuses his senses. And softly, mumbled against her throat while he's focused on her scent and the feeling of her warmth enveloping him: ]
You don't have to do this. It's not fair to you. You don't have to.
[ She lets her teeth press against the warm flesh of his throat, feeling the rapid pounding of his pulse just under the surface. She doesn’t bite down, merely lets him feel that faint edge. The anticipation of control, to get his attention. ]
You know me better than that. You know I would never do anything I didn’t want to. [ She makes herself pause, though, because that had sounded halfway coherent and she has to make sure before she takes this any further. He’s already been through so much, she doesn’t want this to be one more thing that haunts him. ] Are you okay with this or would you be more comfortable with Steve?
[ She hopes not. His scent is already driving her half mad, but she’d do it, if that put him more at ease, if that’s what he wanted. ]
Let me hear you say what you want, Sam. I need the words. Tell me. [ There’s a command implied in those words, for all that her voice is still soft and hushed against his throat, warm breath whispering against his skin as she murmurs them just under his ear. ]
[ The whimper at the hint of teeth is a desperate, needy one. Sam squirms in his seat, tries to shift closer. He doesn't have the capacity to be embarrassed about how hard and wet he is for her right now. How badly he wants her to throw him to the floor and use him however she sees fit.
Still, he doesn't answer immediately. The pause is calm, not hesitant, while he tries so hard not to seek friction. He knows his answer, but he has capacity enough to breath through the need to immediately reassure her that her wants her, that it's been her for so long, but the timing was never right, or else her desires ran different, and Sam doesn't push for his own desires over others. Has always been happy with a solid friendship and casual flirtations. Isn't the type to stay around only to wait for his chance. Is the type who genuinely cherishes the connection he gets, not the potential of future developments.
That's why he needs her to know that as much as he loves and cherishes Steve as a friend and would feel safe and cared for, when she asked him to choose, the choice makes itself. Even if it's just this. Even if it's just a heat claimed between friends and partners. As long as she's fine with giving this, he can handle receiving it. Even if it's nothing more, hell be grateful that they're friends and can take care of each other like this.
And if she wants no more of him after, it wouldn't change his answer. ]
[ She stills at his words, the soft honestly in them washing through her more potently than even his scent had and she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, something in her aching at those words and something else resonating far deeper than she was ready to look at just yet.
Her fingers stroke against the back of his neck once more and then she is gently tugging his head up. Not away, she still wants him surrounded in the safety of her scent, but considering she’s perched comfortably in his lap, it’s not like he could go far anyway.
She swipes her thumb against one of his cheekbones for a moment, searching his face. But he’s given her his answer and that’s all she needed to hear from him. There’s no hesitation this time when she draws him in and captures his lips with hers in a deep, claiming kiss. ]
[ the response is immediate, the way Sam melts into her kiss. Falls into it oh so sweetly, as if he was made for it. Whines with need, and gives her a whimper that is lost between her soft mouth and his plump lips.
He kisses her like he's starved for it, for her. Trembles for her, unable to stop the soft noises he makes. The way he's oh so responsive and reactive to her every touch, her proximity, her promise of control.
When his eyes flutter open again, his eyes are slivers of omega gold beneath those long, curled lashes.
Samn licks his lips with a soft, pleased noise and nuzzles back close. Makes a needy little sound, for her, just for her. And with a voice cracking on his own rising desperation, he calls her... ]
[ It's beautiful, how he responds to her. One kiss and he all but melts into her. She gives a soft hum, something that almost sounds like a purr in the back of her throat, approval thrumming in the sound. Pushing him back against the back of the bench, she pins him there gently, holding him in place with her own weight. He could easily throw her off, should he need to, but she knows he won't, not with how he trembles and whimpers for her.
One hand trails lightly down his throat, adding only the occasional edge of nails to the otherwise possessive caress. Her palm comes to rest just over his sternum, holding him where she wants him as she kisses his lips, nips at them softly. She watches his face, sees that glint of gold, smiles at the word uttered with just a hint of desperation. ]
I've got you, baby. [ The word is careful, murmured against his lips, her gaze watchful on his face, not wanting to say anything that might have negative connotations for him. They're diving into the deep end from the start and she's going to have to adapt on the fly. ] I'm going to take care of you. Give you everything you crave. And you're gonna be so good for me, aren't you?
[ She knows Sam well enough by now to know he's not exactly a meet type of omega. Had to fight all his life for every step forward. Black in America, and an omega to boot? Sam's clawed his way forwards. Never lost his smile, but absolutely turned it into armor. He doesn't stand for anyone reducing him to secondary gender or getting out unearned pet names.
But that's for strangers and for people who over step. Once he let's someone in, they gain much more leeway. She'd know how he secretly preens under praise. How he is starved for casual affection and friendly sweetness.
So Natasha is on the right track here. Evident in how his Adam's apple bobbin thinly veiled excitement when she runs her hand down his throat. Like he wants her to grab and bite. Like he hears her call home baby and he is so damn gone for it in the best of ways. ]
I can be so good. Please. Let me be good for you....
[ Sam who bucks authority, who will disregard direct orders and gove the finger to anyone who is foolish enough to think they're in charge of him.
Yeah that same Sam thrives when given the opportunity to fall in line like this. When he can be good without having to prove himself so hard.
He looks at Natasha like she's hanging the moon for him. Not all of that is just because of the heat licking at him. ]
[ She smiles, eyes dark and pleased, and lets her lips trail down his jaw in light, nipping kisses. She can feel the way he practically preens beneath the praise, lighting up for her, and she sucks lightly on the skin just under his ear, leaving a faint mark there on his flesh, possessive and pleased. ]
I know you will, sweet boy. [ She knows how much of a gift this is. This trust he's offered her, how much he's willing to be vulnerable with her. It's something she intends to take the utmost care with, make sure he has everything he wants.
She keeps one hand pressed to his chest, just over where she can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his skin flushed almost too-hot beneath her touch. She lifts her head enough to meet his gaze again, sliding a finger from her other hand underneath his chin and guiding him up to look at her, holding him there in place. Giving him commands, guidance, to help keep him anchored until they're both in a safe place to do more. A private place, just for them. ]
You're going to tell me if there's something you don't want, Sam. That's an order. Tell me yellow, or red, depending on how severe it is. We didn't have time to go over your boundaries before this hit, so we'll be making this up as we go, but I want you to be honest with me about it. Can you do that for me?
[ Eager nods in response. But it's also clear that he's not blindly reaction, that he's listening.
And that he is absolutely getting dripping wet when she says "That's an order".
She might be discovering a Thing here.
The flight drags on for ages and Sam loses time eventually, feels like he's drifting in a haze of fever, need and Natasha's scent. Frankly he's unaware of most anything until he hears a door close. Blinks, looks around - realizes he's no longer on the jet, and instead with Natasha in a safe house.
It's uncomfortable almost, how far gone he has been. Comforting that he was safe, though. That they're alone.
And still, he feels... unsettled. So.... ]
Yellow?
[ so it comes out a bit of a whine. Sam is exhausted, looks like he's run a marathon, despite only having walked from the quinjet to the safe house in Natasha's tow.
[ The word has her head coming up sharply as she drops the pair of duffels by the door and she’s crossing to him immediately, hands on his shoulders and then his cheeks as she gets up in his space again, letting him feel the heat of her touch, of her physical presence pressed against his front. ]
I’m right here, Sam. Come here. [ Another order, because he seemed to react better when she phrased it that way, something she’d been quick to pick up on, on the way here.
It had felt like it lasted forever, but Steve had landed them at the small, isolated preserve she’d had ready and waiting for them. There were half a dozen little cabins clustered around the edge of a lake, which was still a step up from a camper with a faulty generator, but it sure wasn’t any five-star hotel. It would do what they needed it to, though, and it was private with a roof over their heads.
And had a bed. Which she was going to make very good use of in very short order, once she got Sam taken care of. ] What do you need most, Sam? What’s the first priority here? Shower, sleep, or dealing with your heat?
[ She can tell he’s already slipping deep in a haze but after all he’s been through, she’s not exactly sure which need is weighing on him heaviest. She wants to see to all of them, but there are clearly priorities that need to be met here. ]
[ she's right about the order. Sam comes to her immediately just as told, doesn't even seem to be aware, doesnt even question it. Just follows like being pulled on a leash.
There's a mental image for Natasha to enjoy. Sam bends into her touch, noses at her neck. The proximity brings with it the scent of other alphas on him like a brand. If she were to get him baked and follow those scents she could get a good idea about how many people touched him recently, and where. It nearly drowns out his own sweetness. ]
Shower, please.
[ And the gentlest touch of his lips in her jawline. Just a small kiss. Sweet, almost shy. Reverent. Like he knows that they're here for her to claim his heat for herself, and yet he still wants to be sweet with her. Like he wants to make sure she feels appreciated, too, thatbshe knows she's not just a ticket to a good knotting for him.
That he adores her so.
A small testament to the fact that she could have had him like this, had she wanted him sooner. And yet he will never begrudge her choices. Is just happy she's here now. Trembling in her arms with desire and heat, but also exuding a quiet contentment with her presence underneath that. ]
[ She’d already done her fair share of cataloguing the scents she could pick up on his skin on the jet. Having been in his lap with him pressed as close as he could get had given her a lot of opportunities to do her own investigation and she’d already committed them to memory in case she encountered them again. Especially on where she’d picked a few of those scents up on him.
But right now, she just skims a comforting caress against his throat as she turns to kiss along his jaw as well, warm and reassuring before she takes him by the hand and leads him towards the only other door in the little one room cabin, the one that leads to the bathroom in the back. It’s nothing extravagant, but it does have the plus of having a large walk-in shower rather than a tub, so the both of them will fit easily.
She starts the water running to let it heat before turning back to him once more. ]
Alright, Sam. Lets get you undressed. I’ll get in to help you wash off, unless you’re not comfortable with that. [ She flicks a glance to his face to check, even as she starts helping him tug his shirt up over his head. ]
[ shell notice the slight flinch when the water starts. Natasha knows prisons. Can probably picture Clint, Scott and Sam naked against a wall, hosed down like cattle. But it's when she reaches for him that Sam is immediately soothed, sighs with content pleasure at her proximity. Reaches for her so easily, goes to her with no hesitation. All the trust in the world. He understands that he's safe with her.
Had she been a day later, he would have gone through his heat on the Raft. He would be like this but in the presence of alpha guards who bruised his face. In a small cell with transparent walls.
As they undress him, more bruises show. She can also see the weight and muscle mass he has lost. It's not horrific - but noticable. He'll have to work hard to get back into the shape he's usually in.
[ She cups a hand against his cheek when he quips that, but while her lips curve faintly, she doesn't play that off, doesn't make light of it. ]
You're still plenty pretty right now. Anything else is temporary and will heal. But they haven't dimmed you at all.
[ And the bruises and the loss of weight and muscle she sees just makes her stabby, if she's honest. ]
Get out of these pants, sweet boy. Next time we do this, we can take our time and play with drawing it out. But right now I want to get you clean and all those scents off you. [ She presses a trail of kisses against his collar bone. ] We can play once I'm the only scent you're wearing on your skin.
[ And she takes a half step back to give him the room to obey, taking advantage of the time to work her own vest and top off, dropping them near the door and leaving her in tight jeans and a black lace bra. ]
[ it's the casual possessiveness of it all. It's the casual promise of a next time.
There's no missing how hard Sam's scent slips into arousal. No missing how his cock is straining and how his thighs are wet with slick when he drops his pants. And Sam should be embarrassed by how needy he is here, but he can't even consider that. It's for her, it's all for her. And why should he be embarrassed about the proof of how much he desires her, how she affects him.
Still... oh she looks so good.
So despite her instructions, Sam move towards her for a moment. Large warm hands on her tiny waist, eyes on that sliver of black fabric. He looks starved. Wants to be inside her as badly as he wants her inside of him.
But for now... ]
Let me play with your breasts. [ it's brash, and his eyes are bright with something playful and needy. ] please?
[ It is brash of him, but honestly, she’s so happy to see that familiar glint of playfulness in his gaze that she doesn’t even mind right now.
His scent is already filling the room just as thickly as the steam from the shower and she takes a deep breath of it, her eyes darkening a shade. Her own scent thickens in response, her want just as potent for him as she steps into that warm grip on her waist. She slides her hands up his arms, smiling at him knowingly, even as she takes a step closer once more and slides teasingly against his front.
She can see - and feel - exactly how much he wants her and it makes this all the more alluring as she angles her hip so she can press in against him, letting him feel the same in kind. She can’t wait to be buried deep inside of him. Have him writhing on her knot. ]
Since you asked so prettily… [ As if she’d deny him anything. ] You can have anything you want right now, Sam.
[ permission is all he needs. Sam moans, shameless and pretty, as he drops his hands to.her ass, squeezing as he picks her up. They have delightful friction against one another as Sam lifts her and pushes her right into the shower, against slick tiles. Gets them both wet, gets his naked cock against her now soaked jeans to rut, shameless and wanton, while he mouthed at the wet lace over her breasts. So eager, so needy. And it's all for her. He pushes, rolls his hips to please her, to give them both friction even as he tugs her bra down, eyes dark as they trail over the soft, pale curves of her body before he trails his mouth over her. And he sighs in utter bliss when he cips one breast, thumb flicking over her nipple, while his mouth closes over the other, tongue against her flesh, just a gentle.hint of teeth as he sucks. Moans for her, as if this is the greatest pleasure she could have granted him.
The relief is palpable, thenfact that he shudders against her, and devotes himself to kissing, licking, nipping and fondling with needy, happy little mewls, utterly gone on her. And the shower floods with the scent of his arousal from just this alone, from her letting him lavish attention on her lovely breasts.
He needs her so bad, yet takes his pleasure in giving pleasure to her. ]
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no subject
And then the days stretched on. No calls, no lawyers. Clint and Scott were led away eventually, didnt return. Sam only knows what happened with them because Ross showed up once to gloat, tontry and get Sam to talk about Steve, about Nat, about Bucky.
He doesn't know where they are.
And that realization had to be enough, had to sustain him. Clinging to the thought that they were out there and free. That his sacrifice hadn't been in vain. Sure, he was gonna rot away in prison meant to hold super powered people, locked away without due process for doing what he still believes is the right thing.
So yeah - he doesn't think he will get out. Doesn't think Stark will care enough about his two former team mates still left on the Raft, doesn't think two super soldiers and a world class agent/spy are enough versus the Raft.
Mouthes off against the guards to keep their attention off Wanda, cause Sam isn't blind to the things an environment like this does to already skewed power dynamics. They don't do more than knock him around a bit, feed him a little less.
When you lock people up without due process, whonis gonna hold you to any sort of standard as to how you treat your inmates?
And then, one day, it all changes. Guards drop and Steve is right there, and the horror of the situation becomes fuel for future nightmares rather than an ongoing reality.
Freedom tastes like ice cold rain on his chapped lips.
Natasha is a sight for sore eyes, and Sam manages to find a smile to drag onto his lips from somewhere. His dark skin is ashy other than the deep purple bruising on his face, cheeks a little sunken. Under the scent of prison and the alpha guards strutting around, Sam's own sweet and wild scent is sour with barely restrained hurt and fear. It clings to him like a parasite. And still, for Natasha, he smiles as if there's nothing wrong with his world, all because she grounds him with that hand in his knee. For Natasha he makes an effort to look less haunted. ]
What - you don't think I'm pretty like this?
no subject
You’ve looked better. Although you didn’t have a building almost drop on you this time, so I suppose it could have been worse.
[ Her humor drifts away after that, because the smile is hard to keep up in the face of his pain. ] I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner, Sam. We’re about an hour and a half out from a safe house. But there’s some food and water to hold you over until we get there, if you want some? What do you need?
[ Because she needs to do something. ]
no subject
Hey, I wore good Jean's that day. Looked real nice.
[ but when his eyes focus back on her, it's with some concern - for Natasha, not for himself. ]
You came. Full stop. Don't gotta apologize for anything, Tasha. You got us, that's all that matters.
[ But he's also smart enough to recognize that Natasha wants to do something. Wants to fuss a bit - needs it maybe. And Sam is bad at asking for help, at letting others meet his needs. But meeting hers? Yeah... he can do that. ]
Some water would be great. And uh... blockers, if we got any. They didn't give us suppressant. I'm not far out.
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Another moment of searching through it and she comes up with the scent blockers. She doesn’t hold them out to him just yet, however, fidgeting with them in her hand instead.
News that they hadn’t let them have suppressants would have to change their plans somewhat. She searches his face a moment before flicking a glance at Steve and then pointedly dropping the blockers back in the duffel and shoving it back under the seat. Instead, she comes to sit beside him, resting her hand on his arm this time, hoping the contact would continue to help, as it had seemed to. ]
If that’s the case, the blockers are going to be pointless anyway. Do we have enough time to make it to the safe house or do we need to make an emergency stop somewhere?
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Or maybe he's just so far gone already that he just wants to submit to someone's every whim. ]
Ain't been in heat in years. Figure the blockers gonna make sure y'all can put distance between yourself and me. Just drop me at a safe house, pick me up in a few days. I'm gonna be a liability on the group otherwise.
[ he says it casually, as if it wouldn't be a big deal. As if he isn't going to suffer without any relief if he goes through this alone. But he would never ask someone to take care of him - and so he pitches what he thinks is a better solution for everyone else.
Even as he leans into Natasha's touch just a little. Even as he has to swallow a desperate whine. ]
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Her expression is firm as she holds his gaze, wanting him to understand she’s not joking in the least in her answer. ]
You have never been, nor will you ever be, a liability to any of us. And if you think for one minute we’re just gonna drop you in a safe house and let you handle this alone… [ There’s the faintest hint of a growl in her voice at the very idea. ] I’m gonna have to start checking you over for a concussion or brain damage.
[ She can feel Steve’s eyes on her, on them, and something about that has her hackles raising, which is uncalled for and unusual in itself, but nothing about any of this is normal. Especially when Sam’s scent is still so tinged by pain and fear. It’s all she can do right now not to climb into his lap so she can wrap herself around him until that scent goes away. ]
You are not going through your first heat in years alone. Hell, we wouldn’t let you go through that alone even if you hadn’t been on suppressants. So what’s it going to be, Sam? Me or Steve?
[ It’s surprisingly harder for her to get that section option out, even though she wants him to have a choice in this. As much of one as he can, with his own physiology working against him right now. She doesn’t want him to feel forced, but enduring a heat alone is torture and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but especially not someone so important to her.
She leans forward, resting her forehead against his own, her hands still warm and gentle against his cheeks, holding him close. She inhales, breathes in his scent and it’s… different, somehow. Maybe it’s the lack of suppressants or blockers or something else, but there’s something under the hurt and the fear that teases her senses. Makes her want to explore it, breathe it in until she knows every nuance of it. ]
Sam. You’re not alone.
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The quinjet floods with the scents of coconut and cocoa butter, of bergamot and lavender, of wild honey and oranges. Sweet and rich and fresh, a little spicy, a little wild. And Sam's lips part on his inhale, dragging the scent Natasha is pressing onto his skin over his tongue like a man parched.
Steve looks over with some alarm. Calls Natasha's name, concerned, and starts moving over.
And Sam?
Sam whines as the unmistakable scent of omega slick seeps into his own, heat kicking in like full force because his instincts just register that an alpha is taking charge of him, and he wants and wants and wants...
If he's not all there anymore,
that's neither here nor there. But he makes a needy sound and leans in, neck bared in offering.
There was an illusion of choice there, for half a second. And now it's just a reality of need, a submission to Natasha. A need to be claimed and had. ]
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[ The word is sharp and aimed at Steve, whose steps stutter to an aborted halt behind her at her tone. Smart of him, because if he’d come much closer, they might really have had a problem. Especially with the sound of Sam’s whine in her ears, the scent of him flooding her senses. Her own eyes have flashed dark for a moment and she closes them to focus, but taking a breath isn’t calming anything right now.
So she does what she can, while she still has the focus to do so. He can probably figure most of it out on his own but she doesn’t want any missteps here. Not with Sam already offering her his throat without a word and two very dominant alphas in one enclosed, airborne space. That’s not even touching on the volatility of Wanda being caught in here with them too, after what she’s been through. Natasha doesn’t look away from Sam, however, keeping her hands on him, wanting him to know that sharp tone hadn’t been directed at him. ]
Steve, I’m going to need you to land the plane where we talked about and then you need to get Wanda into one of the safehouses. Take the one closer to the jet. I’ll get Sam off to the one closer to the woods when its safe to move. [ She does risk a glance in his direction then, making sure he understood. Something silent passes between them before her lips quirk wryly. ] Try not to crash us into the ocean, would you? I don’t think I’ll look nearly as good at 90 as you do.
[ She’s already turned her attention back to Sam and misses Steve’s response, but she’s aware of every step he takes away from them and towards the cockpit and something in her relaxes a little more at the distance now between them.
She nudges Sam slightly to shift positions and then she does what she’d wanted to earlier, slides in to straddle his lap between her knees as she takes a seat there, fitting easily and letting her arms wrap around him. Wrapping him in her scent as she drags him close. One hand slides up to cup at the nape of his neck, drawing him in, letting his face bury against her throat as she tries to let her own scent reassure him. Block out everything else in that moment.
Her lips trail against his own throat, responding to the submission he gave her. Although for the moment, it’s just soft, gentle kisses, soothing him as her fingers stroke against the nape of his neck with the faintest scrape of nails. ]
I’ve got you, Sam. It’s alright now. You’re safe. Take a deep breath for me.
[ She knows his heat is starting, but if she can get him relaxed enough, they might still be able to make it to the safe house before the worst of it sets in. She doesn’t know if tricking his system into slowing down under the wash of her voice and touch and scent will work, but she’s going to try anyway. ]
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But Natasha is a solid weight in his lap, gives solid direction. The part of Sam that's still himself is calmed, reassured. The part of Sam that wants to bury himself in her scent, lick it out of her and get himself full and filled with it, is soothed for now.
He mumbles an apology into her neck but doesn't raise his head. Just clings to her and shudders with every motion of the quinjet, with every whiff of scent that confuses his senses. And softly, mumbled against her throat while he's focused on her scent and the feeling of her warmth enveloping him: ]
You don't have to do this. It's not fair to you. You don't have to.
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You know me better than that. You know I would never do anything I didn’t want to. [ She makes herself pause, though, because that had sounded halfway coherent and she has to make sure before she takes this any further. He’s already been through so much, she doesn’t want this to be one more thing that haunts him. ] Are you okay with this or would you be more comfortable with Steve?
[ She hopes not. His scent is already driving her half mad, but she’d do it, if that put him more at ease, if that’s what he wanted. ]
Let me hear you say what you want, Sam. I need the words. Tell me. [ There’s a command implied in those words, for all that her voice is still soft and hushed against his throat, warm breath whispering against his skin as she murmurs them just under his ear. ]
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Still, he doesn't answer immediately. The pause is calm, not hesitant, while he tries so hard not to seek friction. He knows his answer, but he has capacity enough to breath through the need to immediately reassure her that her wants her, that it's been her for so long, but the timing was never right, or else her desires ran different, and Sam doesn't push for his own desires over others. Has always been happy with a solid friendship and casual flirtations. Isn't the type to stay around only to wait for his chance. Is the type who genuinely cherishes the connection he gets, not the potential of future developments.
That's why he needs her to know that as much as he loves and cherishes Steve as a friend and would feel safe and cared for, when she asked him to choose, the choice makes itself. Even if it's just this. Even if it's just a heat claimed between friends and partners. As long as she's fine with giving this, he can handle receiving it. Even if it's nothing more, hell be grateful that they're friends and can take care of each other like this.
And if she wants no more of him after, it wouldn't change his answer. ]
It's you. It's been you.
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Her fingers stroke against the back of his neck once more and then she is gently tugging his head up. Not away, she still wants him surrounded in the safety of her scent, but considering she’s perched comfortably in his lap, it’s not like he could go far anyway.
She swipes her thumb against one of his cheekbones for a moment, searching his face. But he’s given her his answer and that’s all she needed to hear from him. There’s no hesitation this time when she draws him in and captures his lips with hers in a deep, claiming kiss. ]
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He kisses her like he's starved for it, for her. Trembles for her, unable to stop the soft noises he makes. The way he's oh so responsive and reactive to her every touch, her proximity, her promise of control.
When his eyes flutter open again, his eyes are slivers of omega gold beneath those long, curled lashes.
Samn licks his lips with a soft, pleased noise and nuzzles back close. Makes a needy little sound, for her, just for her. And with a voice cracking on his own rising desperation, he calls her... ]
Alpha...
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One hand trails lightly down his throat, adding only the occasional edge of nails to the otherwise possessive caress. Her palm comes to rest just over his sternum, holding him where she wants him as she kisses his lips, nips at them softly. She watches his face, sees that glint of gold, smiles at the word uttered with just a hint of desperation. ]
I've got you, baby. [ The word is careful, murmured against his lips, her gaze watchful on his face, not wanting to say anything that might have negative connotations for him. They're diving into the deep end from the start and she's going to have to adapt on the fly. ] I'm going to take care of you. Give you everything you crave. And you're gonna be so good for me, aren't you?
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But that's for strangers and for people who over step. Once he let's someone in, they gain much more leeway. She'd know how he secretly preens under praise. How he is starved for casual affection and friendly sweetness.
So Natasha is on the right track here. Evident in how his Adam's apple bobbin thinly veiled excitement when she runs her hand down his throat.
Like he wants her to grab and bite. Like he hears her call home baby and he is so damn gone for it in the best of ways. ]
I can be so good. Please. Let me be good for you....
[ Sam who bucks authority, who will disregard direct orders and gove the finger to anyone who is foolish enough to think they're in charge of him.
Yeah that same Sam thrives when given the opportunity to fall in line like this. When he can be good without having to prove himself so hard.
He looks at Natasha like she's hanging the moon for him. Not all of that is just because of the heat licking at him. ]
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I know you will, sweet boy. [ She knows how much of a gift this is. This trust he's offered her, how much he's willing to be vulnerable with her. It's something she intends to take the utmost care with, make sure he has everything he wants.
She keeps one hand pressed to his chest, just over where she can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his skin flushed almost too-hot beneath her touch. She lifts her head enough to meet his gaze again, sliding a finger from her other hand underneath his chin and guiding him up to look at her, holding him there in place. Giving him commands, guidance, to help keep him anchored until they're both in a safe place to do more. A private place, just for them. ]
You're going to tell me if there's something you don't want, Sam. That's an order. Tell me yellow, or red, depending on how severe it is. We didn't have time to go over your boundaries before this hit, so we'll be making this up as we go, but I want you to be honest with me about it. Can you do that for me?
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And that he is absolutely getting dripping wet when she says "That's an order".
She might be discovering a Thing here.
The flight drags on for ages and Sam loses time eventually, feels like he's drifting in a haze of fever, need and Natasha's scent. Frankly he's unaware of most anything until he hears a door close. Blinks, looks around - realizes he's no longer on the jet, and instead with Natasha in a safe house.
It's uncomfortable almost, how far gone he has been. Comforting that he was safe, though. That they're alone.
And still, he feels... unsettled. So.... ]
Yellow?
[ so it comes out a bit of a whine. Sam is exhausted, looks like he's run a marathon, despite only having walked from the quinjet to the safe house in Natasha's tow.
His heat is really, really bad. ]
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I’m right here, Sam. Come here. [ Another order, because he seemed to react better when she phrased it that way, something she’d been quick to pick up on, on the way here.
It had felt like it lasted forever, but Steve had landed them at the small, isolated preserve she’d had ready and waiting for them. There were half a dozen little cabins clustered around the edge of a lake, which was still a step up from a camper with a faulty generator, but it sure wasn’t any five-star hotel. It would do what they needed it to, though, and it was private with a roof over their heads.
And had a bed. Which she was going to make very good use of in very short order, once she got Sam taken care of. ] What do you need most, Sam? What’s the first priority here? Shower, sleep, or dealing with your heat?
[ She can tell he’s already slipping deep in a haze but after all he’s been through, she’s not exactly sure which need is weighing on him heaviest. She wants to see to all of them, but there are clearly priorities that need to be met here. ]
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There's a mental image for Natasha to enjoy. Sam bends into her touch, noses at her neck. The proximity brings with it the scent of other alphas on him like a brand. If she were to get him baked and follow those scents she could get a good idea about how many people touched him recently, and where. It nearly drowns out his own sweetness. ]
Shower, please.
[ And the gentlest touch of his lips in her jawline. Just a small kiss. Sweet, almost shy. Reverent. Like he knows that they're here for her to claim his heat for herself, and yet he still wants to be sweet with her. Like he wants to make sure she feels appreciated, too, thatbshe knows she's not just a ticket to a good knotting for him.
That he adores her so.
A small testament to the fact that she could have had him like this, had she wanted him sooner. And yet he will never begrudge her choices. Is just happy she's here now. Trembling in her arms with desire and heat, but also exuding a quiet contentment with her presence underneath that. ]
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But right now, she just skims a comforting caress against his throat as she turns to kiss along his jaw as well, warm and reassuring before she takes him by the hand and leads him towards the only other door in the little one room cabin, the one that leads to the bathroom in the back. It’s nothing extravagant, but it does have the plus of having a large walk-in shower rather than a tub, so the both of them will fit easily.
She starts the water running to let it heat before turning back to him once more. ]
Alright, Sam. Lets get you undressed. I’ll get in to help you wash off, unless you’re not comfortable with that. [ She flicks a glance to his face to check, even as she starts helping him tug his shirt up over his head. ]
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But it's when she reaches for him that Sam is immediately soothed, sighs with content pleasure at her proximity. Reaches for her so easily, goes to her with no hesitation. All the trust in the world. He understands that he's safe with her.
Had she been a day later, he would have gone through his heat on the Raft. He would be like this but in the presence of alpha guards who bruised his face. In a small cell with transparent walls.
As they undress him, more bruises show. She can also see the weight and muscle mass he has lost. It's not horrific - but noticable. He'll have to work hard to get back into the shape he's usually in.
But he can't help but quip. ]
I'll be prettier for you next time.
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You're still plenty pretty right now. Anything else is temporary and will heal. But they haven't dimmed you at all.
[ And the bruises and the loss of weight and muscle she sees just makes her stabby, if she's honest. ]
Get out of these pants, sweet boy. Next time we do this, we can take our time and play with drawing it out. But right now I want to get you clean and all those scents off you. [ She presses a trail of kisses against his collar bone. ] We can play once I'm the only scent you're wearing on your skin.
[ And she takes a half step back to give him the room to obey, taking advantage of the time to work her own vest and top off, dropping them near the door and leaving her in tight jeans and a black lace bra. ]
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There's no missing how hard Sam's scent slips into arousal. No missing how his cock is straining and how his thighs are wet with slick when he drops his pants. And Sam should be embarrassed by how needy he is here, but he can't even consider that. It's for her, it's all for her. And why should he be embarrassed about the proof of how much he desires her, how she affects him.
Still... oh she looks so good.
So despite her instructions, Sam move towards her for a moment. Large warm hands on her tiny waist, eyes on that sliver of black fabric. He looks starved. Wants to be inside her as badly as he wants her inside of him.
But for now... ]
Let me play with your breasts. [ it's brash, and his eyes are bright with something playful and needy. ] please?
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His scent is already filling the room just as thickly as the steam from the shower and she takes a deep breath of it, her eyes darkening a shade. Her own scent thickens in response, her want just as potent for him as she steps into that warm grip on her waist. She slides her hands up his arms, smiling at him knowingly, even as she takes a step closer once more and slides teasingly against his front.
She can see - and feel - exactly how much he wants her and it makes this all the more alluring as she angles her hip so she can press in against him, letting him feel the same in kind. She can’t wait to be buried deep inside of him. Have him writhing on her knot. ]
Since you asked so prettily… [ As if she’d deny him anything. ] You can have anything you want right now, Sam.
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The relief is palpable, thenfact that he shudders against her, and devotes himself to kissing, licking, nipping and fondling with needy, happy little mewls, utterly gone on her. And the shower floods with the scent of his arousal from just this alone, from her letting him lavish attention on her lovely breasts.
He needs her so bad, yet takes his pleasure in giving pleasure to her. ]
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