[ It's subtle, but immediate - the way he turns his face into that whisper of a touch on his cheek. The way he chases her touch immediately. Chases that reassurance.
Perhaps chases that possessiveness, too.
Because things have changed from a mutual decision when he knew their paths were aimed at different horizons. Now, he's not so sure. Or perhaps that's just wishful thinking fuelled by his heat. He feels like all he wants is for her to want him, and he's not sure how to reconcile with the cold logic of a previous agreement, the comfort of a great friend and partner in the field. ]
Okay
[ His agreement comes easy, and along with that his shoulders relax for her. Perhaps something Natasha will notice - how even just her mild reassurance is enough for him to relax, to orient himself according to her compass, to follow her lead. Sam letting himself be taken care of, just this once. Omega trusting alpha. ]
[The way he relaxes does not go unnoticed, and it takes some of the edge off Natasha's temper too, off her scent, smoothing it from something acrid into an almost welcoming burn. Like the heat off good whiskey or warm spice. She slips her arm around Sam's body in something like a half hug, her nose turned toward his shoulder.
The fact she's seven inches shorter than he is ought to make it a little silly, the way she bodily offers herself as comfort, as protection, something stable while Sam's heat rocks him, but there's more to being an Alpha than physical size and strength, and Natasha exudes the confidence and sense of purpose that truly defines her status.
She's here for him. And for a moment, she holds him, letting him adjust to their plan, before guiding him toward the door.]
You can't feel too bad if you're already talking back like that.
[She rolls with the quip, the answer coming a little late but still naturally.
They'll take this at their own pace, whatever that might end up being.]
[ Used to be that people really ascribed to the stereotypes of alphas needing to be physically imposing, omegas needing to be delicate. Whole bunch of bullshit, of course, and yet even to this day, there's some prejudice people have to fight against. Sam regularly gets mistaken for an alpha when he's wearing blockers. He imagines that while Natasha surely knows hot to use that to her advantage, she must have been dismissed as 'just' an omega or beta plenty of times.
Foolish of people to dismiss her strength. Sam appreciates it, now more than ever. So used to carrying himself without support, for a heartbeat or two he just indulges in how steadfast Natasha is, how much strength she really exudes in a comforting, stabilizing sort of way. When they get going, Sam can't deny feeling better. ]
When have you ever known me not to give everyone and everything around me some lip?
[ It's true. Sam wouldn't know meek deference if it hit him in the face. Anyone wanting him to yield to them needs to work for that a little - and isn't there some joy in that, too? ]
[Unflappable. If sassing her makes him feel better, gives him some feeling like he's still in control, Natasha won't take that away from him. She will, however, joke about it.
If Sam is still cracking wise when she fucks him, they might have another conversation about it.
Either that or they'll have to find him something else to do with his mouth.]
You can't feel too bad yet if you're still joking.
[As she talks, she pulls him outside. Steve's been gone long enough that his scent is just starting to dissipate outside the door. The fresh air, such as she can get it, brings a little relief.
The scent of Sam's heat is still overwhelming, though.]
[ Sam Wilson will absolutely still crack wise while getting fucked within an inch of his life and/or sanity. If there ever was a man who was born to say 'make me' to any request for him to shut up and behave...
Sam breathes in some relief when they get outside. Not that he doesn't usually find the mingling scents of Natasha and Steve decidedly comforting - they make him feel safe, they signal pack and comfort in ways few other people's scents do - but right now, Steve's scent is almost acrid in his nose. The earlier aggression between Natasha and Steve, and the fact that Sam's body is on board with the chocie in partner made here, makes Steve's scent feel like an introducer to Sam's needs. ]
You can start worrying when I go almost nonverbal and can't say anything other than 'please' or 'more' any longer.
[Natasha relaxes slightly. There's only so much her guard can drop in these circumstances, but the part of her mind that can't help but view Steve as a rival still unclenches a little.
The part that needs to protect her pack, to make sure her Omega is safe when he's at his most vulnerable, won't relax until they're somewhere secure.
A den. A nest. It's written in her instincts, and as much as they are above just their biology the biology never goes away.
And when Sam says please and more, she loses her ability to speak for a moment.
Focus.]
I think my that point I won't be worrying too much about anything.
[ A small spike in scent. That is an omega pleased, even as Sam ducks his head a little, expression going bashful. The need to show her his throat, to reward the admission with access, is so strong it nearly makes him buckle, and he has to steady himself against the car once they reach it. Swallows, hard. ]
Good. That... that's good.
[ Yeah... he's gonna be far gone, he can tell. Needing nothing more than for his alpha to take charge of him, to help him ride out the gnawing, insatiable need of the heat, and Sam can't think about why that ever would have seemed like a bad idea in the past.
He slides into the passenger seat. Thinks, immediately, that the car will smell like cloying sweetness for a good time to come. ]
You're possessive.
[ It's never been something he considered her to be, but perhaps it's just more quiet. All alphas are in some manner, and most express it in open territorial behavior, jealousy and the like. Perhaps Natasha considers something hers and doesn't feel the need to let the world know.
Perhaps Sam is pleased to know either way, that he has an effect on her. ]
[Natasha isn't usually one for big territorial displays. It's not her way. Not something she needs. She considers herself above them, usually, and makes that the truth.
Some part of her likes to believe that's something for male Alphas specifically. Those two factors interact in strange ways, and in the same way she finds sometimes male Omegas seem to get huffy about a female Alpha, she'd like to believe the ego is some kind of male affliction.
It doesn't actually work that way, though, anymore than being an Omega made someone a weak, wilting violet.
Now her nostrils flare and she doesn't actually argue it. Instead she gives Sam a moment to steady himself, catch his breath, then she puts her hand on the small of his back and urges him into the car with a wordless touch.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Perhaps chases that possessiveness, too.
Because things have changed from a mutual decision when he knew their paths were aimed at different horizons. Now, he's not so sure. Or perhaps that's just wishful thinking fuelled by his heat. He feels like all he wants is for her to want him, and he's not sure how to reconcile with the cold logic of a previous agreement, the comfort of a great friend and partner in the field. ]
Okay
[ His agreement comes easy, and along with that his shoulders relax for her. Perhaps something Natasha will notice - how even just her mild reassurance is enough for him to relax, to orient himself according to her compass, to follow her lead. Sam letting himself be taken care of, just this once. Omega trusting alpha. ]
Tense car ride sounds like a great time.
[ Never without the sass though, of course. ]
no subject
The fact she's seven inches shorter than he is ought to make it a little silly, the way she bodily offers herself as comfort, as protection, something stable while Sam's heat rocks him, but there's more to being an Alpha than physical size and strength, and Natasha exudes the confidence and sense of purpose that truly defines her status.
She's here for him. And for a moment, she holds him, letting him adjust to their plan, before guiding him toward the door.]
You can't feel too bad if you're already talking back like that.
[She rolls with the quip, the answer coming a little late but still naturally.
They'll take this at their own pace, whatever that might end up being.]
no subject
Foolish of people to dismiss her strength. Sam appreciates it, now more than ever. So used to carrying himself without support, for a heartbeat or two he just indulges in how steadfast Natasha is, how much strength she really exudes in a comforting, stabilizing sort of way. When they get going, Sam can't deny feeling better. ]
When have you ever known me not to give everyone and everything around me some lip?
[ It's true. Sam wouldn't know meek deference if it hit him in the face. Anyone wanting him to yield to them needs to work for that a little - and isn't there some joy in that, too? ]
no subject
[Unflappable. If sassing her makes him feel better, gives him some feeling like he's still in control, Natasha won't take that away from him. She will, however, joke about it.
If Sam is still cracking wise when she fucks him, they might have another conversation about it.
Either that or they'll have to find him something else to do with his mouth.]
You can't feel too bad yet if you're still joking.
[As she talks, she pulls him outside. Steve's been gone long enough that his scent is just starting to dissipate outside the door. The fresh air, such as she can get it, brings a little relief.
The scent of Sam's heat is still overwhelming, though.]
no subject
Sam breathes in some relief when they get outside. Not that he doesn't usually find the mingling scents of Natasha and Steve decidedly comforting - they make him feel safe, they signal pack and comfort in ways few other people's scents do - but right now, Steve's scent is almost acrid in his nose. The earlier aggression between Natasha and Steve, and the fact that Sam's body is on board with the chocie in partner made here, makes Steve's scent feel like an introducer to Sam's needs. ]
You can start worrying when I go almost nonverbal and can't say anything other than 'please' or 'more' any longer.
no subject
The part that needs to protect her pack, to make sure her Omega is safe when he's at his most vulnerable, won't relax until they're somewhere secure.
A den. A nest. It's written in her instincts, and as much as they are above just their biology the biology never goes away.
And when Sam says please and more, she loses her ability to speak for a moment.
Focus.]
I think my that point I won't be worrying too much about anything.
no subject
Good. That... that's good.
[ Yeah... he's gonna be far gone, he can tell. Needing nothing more than for his alpha to take charge of him, to help him ride out the gnawing, insatiable need of the heat, and Sam can't think about why that ever would have seemed like a bad idea in the past.
He slides into the passenger seat. Thinks, immediately, that the car will smell like cloying sweetness for a good time to come. ]
You're possessive.
[ It's never been something he considered her to be, but perhaps it's just more quiet. All alphas are in some manner, and most express it in open territorial behavior, jealousy and the like. Perhaps Natasha considers something hers and doesn't feel the need to let the world know.
Perhaps Sam is pleased to know either way, that he has an effect on her. ]
no subject
Some part of her likes to believe that's something for male Alphas specifically. Those two factors interact in strange ways, and in the same way she finds sometimes male Omegas seem to get huffy about a female Alpha, she'd like to believe the ego is some kind of male affliction.
It doesn't actually work that way, though, anymore than being an Omega made someone a weak, wilting violet.
Now her nostrils flare and she doesn't actually argue it. Instead she gives Sam a moment to steady himself, catch his breath, then she puts her hand on the small of his back and urges him into the car with a wordless touch.]