[ 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.]
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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.]