Chapter Text
"Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same."
― George R.R. Martin
Your eyes flicker open to darkness. You're awake, but awareness is hard to grasp. A fog blankets your mind, your body unmoving as you blink slowly. It takes you a dozen minutes or so to fight through the fog in your mind. Disorientated, you gradually find feeling in your limbs. A twitch of the finger. A curl of your toes. You don't know how long it takes for you to gain control.
Your fingers dig into something soft, and you realise you're lying on some sort of mattress. Confusion paired with paranoia threatens to make you sick. You struggle into a sitting position, hands reaching out blindly to feel what's ahead, but you only grasp air. It's only when you move your arms do you realise that your hands are cuffed, the clinking of chains loud in the silence.
Your breathing fastens, blind in the dark as you desperately try to remember what led you to this unfortunate situation. It's difficult to remember anything substantial. It's like trying to remember a long forgotten dream. You only manage to remember leaving the subway station with groceries in hand. Remember fruit spilling onto concrete, colours bruised upon impact like some abstract art. That's all you remember.
Sitting on this island of darkness, unaware of what's around, your imagination runs wild. Shit, you whisper to yourself, head buried in your trembling hands. You may not know why you're here, but you know being handcuffed is never a good sign.
You don't know how much time had passed when you hear the creak of a door opening. Heavy footsteps grows louder as they draw near. You take a tentative sniff of the air. Betas. But they're no ordinary betas. Their scents are heavy and smokey, more powerful than any beta you've ever came across. Another ominous sign.
You nearly let out a squeal in surprise when you find yourself being lifted in the air and moved, mattress and all. You don't dare to move an inch, not when you still can't see anything.
The betas don't say anything. But you hear something — violins and laughter. The sound intensifies and you think it must be a party of sorts. You catch words here and there, but only one word stands out. Rogers. He, who overthrew the previous Hydra Alpha King with ease. He, who rules the country with an iron fist, his elite pack enforcing his every wish. He, the youngest Alpha King in history with a reputation forged in violence and unwavering devotion. There are many who revere him like a god, but to you, he has never been anything more than a figure in the news.
The betas must've carried you into some room. The party here is in full swing; everyone is boisterously loud and shameless in their joy. The scents are overwhelming — so pure and unaltered by scent blockers. Your not used to this, the city's filth always diluted scents. But here, at the heart of Hydra's empire, everything is amplified.
You're set down on the floor. You hear a male voice and catch bits of his conversation. "... halfway across the country... wasn't easy to find, but anything for you, brother... yes, in there..." The only warning you receive is the sound of footsteps. The next second, light fills your vision like a thunderbolt. You flinch and shield your eyes with your arm. You blink rapidly, pupils shrinking as you adjust to the light. The first thing you see is your wrist. It's bound in a bejewelled, gold cuff. Dainty chains link it to your other bound wrist. Shock turns you cold as you see that you're not sitting on a mattress. An oversized cushion is a better description. And, terrifyingly, you're sitting in a cage. It's an ornate, gilded contraption that's large enough for you to stand in. You can hardly process the sheer absurdity of the situation.
You look around, finding a crowd gathering around the cage like you're a new exhibition at the zoo. You recognised many faces, such as Bucky Barnes, Rogers' right hand Alpha. Subconsciously, you make yourself look smaller, dipping your head as they stare at you with curiosity. Your fingers dig into the cushion, trying to ground yourself as panic settles in.
One figure parts from the crowd. His scent reaches through the bars of the cage and envelops you like a lover's hug. Your head snaps up. The world slows down. He smells like tobacco, leatherwood and patchouli. But there's something about his scent that feels like home. Like comfort. As if you've always known his scent. It's him. It has to be him. You know it instantly and instinctually.
He looks down at you, his mouth parts a tad in surprise. Beautiful blue eyes darken as he undergoes the same realisation. It's the same blue eyes you see on the news all the time. Uneasiness settles in the pit of your stomach, erasing any elation at finding your true mate. You never thought you'd meet your mate whilst locked in a cage like a pet. Moon Mother really must despise you to pair your fate with Rogers'.
Steve turns to Bucky, mouth splitting into a grin as he claps Bucky on the shoulder, thanking him for such a generous birthday present. The crowd claps in celebration as the violin quartet strikes up another tune. Steve's happiness is plain to see as Bucky unlocks the cage, gesturing for Steve to come forward. "I've even wrapped her up for you," Bucky says with a smirk. You're not quite sure what he's referring to until Steve looms over the cage, hand reaching inside to tug at the pink satin bow around your neck. You shrink back, face turning to the side in rejection as he undoes the bow. The ribbon falls into your lap, revealing a matching gold collar to your handcuffs. Unbeknown to you, a phrase is engraved inside the collar: Property of Steve Rogers. So there you sat, collared and bound. Sheer, white fabric draped over your form. Your omega cries in desperation, yearning to finally be with her alpha. But logic demands you to not cave in. You're not an ignorant fool at the treatment of omegas, but you wished that at least your mate would treat you as more than something to be owned.
Steve kneels down on one knee as you sit there like an echo of Adolphe-Bouguereau's Eos. He clips a leash onto your collar. "Hi little one." His voice is like dark chocolate — something to be indulged in. You fight the shiver travelling down your spine and refuse to look at him. He merely chuckles and tugs your leash, forcing you to look up at him lest you want to choke. You hate the way heat flares in your belly as you take in his handsome visage.
He brushes a thumb over your right cheekbone. "Don't be shy, come follow your alpha." He tries to coax you into leaving the cage.
Still, you stay frozen, feeling that it'd be safer behind bars than out in the open with him. His expression changes so abruptly, displeasure colouring his gaze. Smack. Your right cheek stings and tears well up in your eyes. Steve grabs your chin and you look up at him in utter shock. "Lesson one, you do as I say." He growls lowly. Your omega whines in distress at the thick waves of disappointment radiating off of him. You want to apologise and soothe him. But he's a monster, you remind yourself. He doesn't deserve anything from you.
"Oh honey, I didn't mean to scare you," he coos, eyeing your reddening cheek, mean demeanour turning oddly calm. You can hear Bucky chuckling from behind Steve. "This must be a lot for you to take in, so I'll forgive you this once." This time you don't resist when he leads you out of the cage. You walk on wobbly legs, barefoot on checkerboard marble, arms crossed over your chest to provide yourself with more cover. Bucky walks on Steve's right, looking rather pleased with himself.
You're lead up a platform where a throne lies. It's an imposing sight — a throne fit for Hades himself. Steve sits down, looking at ease as he snaps his fingers and points to the large cushion at his feet. Mortified at being treated like a pet, the ache in your cheek reminds you of consequences if you disobey. You sink down onto the cushion with arms still crossed over your chest. After Steve clips your leash to a ring on the throne, he pets your head, guiding your head to rest against the side of his knee. You remain tense. He can smell the rose shampoo used in your hair, can feel how you tremble slightly beneath his touch. He feels different now; as if he was never whole without you. He doesn't know how Bucky managed to find you, much less how he got his hands on your blood sample to confirm the match. But no one says no to Hydra (lest they want to live). You were a pleasant birthday surprise indeed.
Steve rests an elbow on the throne, the other hand playing with your hair. He speaks to the queue below the platform: "carry on." And thus proceeds the gift giving. A green eyed man steps forward, first in the queue now that Bucky has had his turn. "—Ah, ambassador Loki. Welcome. I trust you're enjoying the party?"
You stare at the checkered floor and your mind drifts. You think of poor Peter and how worried he must be to return to an empty apartment. You think about his kind hands and enthusiastic grin. Of how thrilled he was to celebrate your first anniversary together. Steve may be your true mate, but in this short time, you much prefer Peter. At least he's never raised a hand to you.
You can't help but doze off, bored and exhausted, system still processing whatever drug Bucky had injected you with.When you wake, you find yourself curled up on the cushion. Something feels different in the air. The music has changed to sultry, dark beats. The lights have dimmed. You can smell copious amounts of alcohol, underlining cloying scents of lust. You rub your eyes as you sit up, glancing around the opulent room. You almost wished you hadn't.
Civility is swallowed by bacchanalian revelry. It would be full moon in a few days, and it got the pack feeling frisky and amorous. The fact that Steve found his mate would've influenced the pack as well; his desire leaking into their bonds like a domino effect. People are half-naked or naked, indulging in respective vices. Expensive clothing is strewn across the floor, mismatching high heels abandoned in corners. Bodies are writhing on the floor and grinding against the wall. Bodies so intertwined you couldn't tell one apart from the other. You can see a pretty brunette riding the green eyed man, slick dripping down her lush, caramel thighs. You turn away from the sight, trying to fight the rising heat (the lust is almost infectious). You had heard rumours about Hydra's wicked indulgences, but never expected to be smack dab in the middle of one.
"My sleepy little mate," Steve leans down and grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "You can sleep later, but now..." He parts his thighs, making a gap wide enough for you to settle in.
You let him manoeuvre you to kneel between his thick thighs. He grabs your cuffed hands and places one on each of his thighs, the chain long enough to allow such movement. You could feel his muscles through the dark fabric. Big, strong alpha, your omega purrs, infected by the heady lust in the room. She longs to join the pack and show her alpha that she is worthy.
His hands trail up your arm; one hand grips the nape of your neck, the other across your collarbone. It's as if he's familiarising himself with the landscape of your body. His hand sneaks beneath the sheer fabric and cups one of your breasts. You would've jerked away if it wasn't for the hand at your nape holding you still. He rolls your nipple between his fingers and you can't help but whine. Your nipples stiffen to little peaks as he plays with your breasts. "N-no..." You protest, shaking your head, trying to ignore the moans from the crowd as they realise what they're alpha is up to. They're eager for a show of his virility, animal instincts taking over.
Steve pinches your nipple in retaliation at your protest. You cry out in pain, pushing at his hands. He growls dangerously and picks you up, forcing you to straddle his lap. You hit at his chest, trying to climb off of the throne. "Stay still," he demands. "Alpha just wants to look at your pretty tits." In one smooth move, he rips the dress down the front (thin as wrapping paper), baring your form from the waist up. You raise your arms to cover yourself but he catches your wrist and holds them hostage behind your back. He kisses your neck and licks around your mating gland (hidden by the collar). Your head grows dizzy from the licks and kisses, Steve's scent almost irresistible as you can smell his arousal.
His mouth travels down and he kisses the swell of your breasts. "Alpha, no." You continue to reject his advances, hands trying to wriggle out from his grasp. His eyes narrow dangerously and he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking eagerly, ignoring your soft whines. You're confused; the sight of him at your breasts sends desires shooting through your veins, but you hate how he slapped you.
"We'll have to train you to rid you of this bad habit," he murmurs against your chest. "A good omega doesn't refuse her alpha." The comment stabs your heart like a dagger. Your omega wants to be good for alpha. "Your body is mine to do as I wish," he continues. "If I want to lock you up in chastity and refuse you pleasure, then that's what you'll let me do." Images are painted in your mind — you, locked in metal as per his wish, desperate for release, begging him for mercy. "And if I want to spend days and nights pumping you full of my seed, then you'll happily let me do it. For I can sire bastards if I wish, but only our pups will be my named heirs." Your pupils darken at the thought of being full of him. Unbidden, slick gushes through what remains of the dress. "Hmm, you'd like that wouldn't you?" He nuzzles against your neck. You shake your head once again but he slips a hand between your thighs. His fingers come away shiny with your arousal. He brings it to his nose and inhales the scent, eyes closing for a few seconds before opening to lock gazes with you. You can see the strained desire as he sucks his fingers clean. You know you must smell fertile to him since you stopped taking your heat blocker for this cycle, having expected Peter to see you through the upcoming heat. And it feels like you have an itch under your skin, a restlessness that spoke of an alpha's impending rut. No, no. You know his rut would eventually trigger your heat. You're not ready.
"It's a good thing Bucky put this collar on you. Otherwise I'd claim you right here and now before the full moon."
You wet your lips and say quietly, "—You can't claim me."
Steve freezes, his grip almost bruising as he stares at you. "Why not?" He still tastes your slick on his tongue.
"Because... Because I have someone else waiting at home for me." You dare to confess, wondering if this would be enough to push him away. He is the Alpha King, he could find anyone to have. Maybe he'd find someone untouched to claim instead.
Steve looks like fury incarnate. His eyes take on a red sheen, jaw tight & sharp enough to cut. You wanted to cower at the wrath rolling off him in waves, so heavy you felt like it could drown you. And he snarls, baring teeth as he wraps his hand around your throat. He grips hard enough to make it hard for you to breath. "You would refuse your true mate?" He seethes, blood pounding in his ears. "You think me unworthy?" He still has your hands locked behind your back, and you feel truly vulnerable, hyperaware of how he could snap your neck in half like a toothpick. "Who is it that you choose over me?"
You refuse to answer, struggling for breath.
Steve feels no pity for you. And he does what you dread, using his Alpha voice to command you. "Tell me his name."
You try to resist the compulsion, but it's impossible like trying not to breathe. "P-Peter Parker." You blurt out.
"Peter..." He tries the name on his tongue, each letter filled with contempt. "So he is the one who has tainted you. Corrupted you. But it doesn't matter. I shall reclaim you tonight." He lets go of your wrists and pushes you back down to your knees. "I will start with this mouth of yours." You pale as he unbuckles his pants, but your omega salivates for his cock. And what a pretty cock he has for you — all hard and thick, longer than Peter's without doubt. "Open up, omega." He gives his length a few pumps as he watches you bite your bottom lip. You didn't want to give in so easily.
When you fidget on your knees and do not comply, he huffs and slides a hand into your hair, guiding your mouth to his waiting length. The tip nudges against your rosy lips. His scent is intoxicating and you obey when he uses his alpha voice to compel you to begin. You kiss the tip before licking it shyly, secretly eager for a taste of him. It doesn't take long before you start sucking on the head like a lollipop, tongue swirling around it. After a moment, you release him from you mouth with an audible pop. The compulsion has worn off, but biology takes over. The taste and scent of him is like an aphrodisiac, sending you headfirst into desire. You glance up at him, urged by the impossibly dark stare he gives you.
You wrap your mouth around him and start taking him deeper, head bobbing up and down. It's a bit of a struggle given his size, your mouth almost too small for him. You try so hard to keep your teeth away, but inevitably your teeth grazes against him during the motion. You hear Steve groan and you fear you've displeased him. Yet he grabs your head and keep you on his cock. "Let's see how much you can take. No hands." He inches his cock down your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. You gag instantly, unprepared. He ignores you and shoves himself down your throat. You cry out around him, bracing yourself against his knees, choking and drooling as he pushes far deeper than Peter has ever. Steve swears at the feeling of your throat tightening around him, but pulls out as you choke once more.
"Poor baby, is alpha's cock too much for you?" His thumb traces your lips. Don't be fooled; he's incapable of mercy.
"It's too big," you blink back the tears that have formed. "I can't —" But you can't complain when he puts a finger into your mouth. You suck the digit, hollowing your cheeks when he shoves another digit in. You let him explore your mouth, let him slide them down your throat. You try so hard not to choke around them. The chain of your leash clinks as your head bobs. When he withdraws his wet fingers, he smears the drool over your lips.
"You can do it." His cock returns between your lips. Your warm, wet mouth is like heaven around him. He holds your head still as he thrusts deep. You fight the urge to push him away. "Again. Relax for me." And he thrusts down your throat again. You whine and try to shake your head, thinking that there's no way in hell he'd fit all of his cock, hands digging marks into his thighs. But he just pets your hair and drives deeper. "Settle down, little one. Swallow." And you try to get yourself under control, breathing through your nose, swallowing a few times around the hard cock until you calmed down enough to remain still. Your nails no longer bite into his thighs. You stay like that for a few moments — his cock heavy on your tongue and thick in your throat, keeping him warm. Steve tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you close your eyes, swallowing around him every now and then. Mind blissfully blank, any worries subsided, you don't even care that there's a crowd watching.
"Good omega." You preen at his praise. Alpha's pleased. "I knew you just needed a firm hand. There's still an inch or so you can't take, but we'll work on it." His hand brushes across your brow affectionately. He thinks you belong here at his feet, taking whatever he gives.
Slowly, he starts rocking in and out of your mouth. The pace gradually changes to something intense & rough. He grabs your head and fucks your mouth like it is a toy. He takes twisted pleasure in the way you gag around him yet remain so obedient. Soon, tears stream down your face as you fight your gag reflex. You make eye contact, seeing the way he looks so enamoured with you. "No one else gets to fuck your mouth like this but me." You moan around his cock in confirmation, lost in the moment. "Tell me."
You pull away from his cock. Drool drips down to your chin, collar and chest, rendering you a filthy mess. "No one gets to fuck my mouth but you, master," you say heatedly, jaws aching already.
"That's right. You're my little cockslut." He buries himself in your mouth once more. It doesn’t take him too long to reach his peak. “Swallow,” he demands gruffly. But he doesn’t leave much room for debate as he cuts off your air supply, cumming hard down your throat. Heart pounds loudly in his ears. His eyes squeezes shut briefly before opening to look at you. You swallow every drop dutifully, not panicking at the lack of air, somehow knowing your mate would know your limit.
The alpha withdraws from you, leaning back into the throne, sated as he tucks himself back into his pants. He pats his lap and you climb up. He eyes your swollen lips and kisses you for the first time. It's as cliche as fireworks bursting behind your eyelids. You grip his shoulders as his tongue asks for entrance, and you grant him it, letting him taste himself in your mouth. The bond between true mates is undeniable. "I'm never letting you go," he declares softly, lethally. Strong hand rests over your lower abdomen, hinting at his plans. "Never, you hear me?"
You murmur your acknowledgement, not thinking too much of it as you tuck your head beneath his chin.
The pack's revelry continues before you. Steve is finishing a glass of wine as Bucky talks to him. You sit with your back to Steve's chest, bound hands resting demurely in your lap. You feel at peace knowing that the pack has witnessed your alpha's acceptance of you, and that you must reek of him now. As his hand massages your breast, you can't even remember why you rejected him.