Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Bucky felt a cold around his wrists. There was metal clasping them tightly and his skin was beginning to bond with it, as if they were one. His eyesight…it's blurry while he regains consciousness. Frantically, he starts to recall where he is and what is going on—well, sort of. 

He glances to his right where he sees his fellow comrades. It was 2013, and Bucky’s squad of agents were making their way through Shield one mission at a time. People knew about Shield and its militia operation, but the inner-workings of the agency itself was rather secretive. ‘Operational Security’, they called it.

At this point, Bucky had practically run himself dry—pushing his limits in ways he never knew he could, but he wanted to prove something. Especially since he was the only Omega at Shield who was working as an agent. Plenty of Omegas worked for Shield in general, just not as agents. 

The rest of them were Alphas and Betas. Bucky was an oddball Omega, though. He was tough in a way where he’d fight back, almost as if he didn’t agree with his place in the world as an Omega. 

It was hard for him to be fully socially accepted into Shield’s intelligence agency. When these Alphas would experience a Rut during the more intense, physically demanding part of their jobs, they were actually seen as more valuable—implying no limits, where they’d do anything just to get their granted time off so that they could process their Rut in private. 

But…Bucky? He was only seen as a ticking time bomb—and really, he was. His Heat was unpredictable, albeit an interruption for him, and whatever squad he was assigned with. He had a fundamental disadvantage, and he hated how his comrades looked at him because of that.

Bucky was just 19. One of the youngest agents to be accepted into the intelligence department at Shield. He was used to working with people that were 25+, like his squad. There were seven of them in total.

And today, well…they fucked up. Josef—the leader of their missions the past couple months, had been given a task by the director of Shield, Nick Fury. He was to find and extricate any super-powered weapons, alongside his team that would be assigned to him. Unfortunately, Josef miscalculated the monstrosity of weapons that were being held in the floors of this facility. 

More importantly, he miscalculated whose facility this was.

They only knew him as The Captain. He was just that guy that everybody feared in this world of intel and crime. He was THE capitalist of all capitalists, but you’d never know his name. Just his legacy. Captain. The Apex Alpha of all Alphas.

Until today, he was a myth.

Bucky whimpers uncontrollably as he fully comes to, finding that he and his six comrades are tied with their hands behind their backs, leaning over a long metallic tub in a warehouse he didn’t fully recognize.

There were figures in the room, but Bucky couldn’t make them out. He could scent them though, and they were angry. Oddly, though—Bucky could sense that they were anticipating something else…something sinister. 

“You low-level ops fucked with the wrong people, you have no idea,” came a disembodied voice as a dark, tall Alpha man with sunglasses enters the room. He has this strange contraption on his back that resembles wings—like a Falcon. Next to him is a striking Alpha woman, who has red hair and otherwise, nothing particularly stood out. 

“I mean, you kids must work for Fury, is that it?” She spoke with a Russian accent to her voice—making fun of their situation. Albeit…nothing about this was funny. 

Bucky stares into the basin that he was leaning over, and he sees drains throughout the tub starting from his end to the other end. Even worse…he feels like he sees remnants of blood stains in the steel. 

He is going to die tonight. 

“Speak. This one,” the woman orders Josef to speak. She could smell it on him—how he was the lead Alpha here, and the one with the guiltiest look on his face. 

“I miscalculated—it wasn’t, I—I meant no disrespect, ma’am,” he stammers like his life depended on it. 

Oh wait. It kind of did. 

“Boss is on his way. He’s not the forgiving type. I may not agree with his methods…," she clears her throat, "That said, tonight will be your last,” she states it like it was a fact. Nothing more. 

“Widow, cool it. Boss hearin’ you say you don’t like his methods isn’t something you want slippin’ through to him,” the man with wings whispers.

Bucky knew that the man wouldn’t even bother saying shit that put holes in their reputations in front of them unless they really planned on killing them tonight. This was literally it. It was over for him. 

“Relax, Falcon. No one in this room would ever cross me like that,” the Widow says as she scans the three other dark operatives dressed in black, who have their eyes glued to the seven agents with their heads hanging over the basin. 

Bucky’s body perked up before his head caught up to the scent he was feeling as the Apex Alpha merely just entered the premise. It was fucking crazy how far away Bucky could sense him. It made him squirm, and he could see his comrades looking at him like he was embarrassing them. But Bucky was affected by an Alpha’s scent differently than they ever would be.

Bucky unfortunately innately saw it as potential, rather than competition. A compulsion of need. The Alphas and Betas in his group were undeniably uncomfortable at this point. They too, started to squirm trying to get out of their cuffs as the predator’s footsteps echoed through the warehouse.

They can't see him yet. 

“Captain. They’re all here, all seven of them,” Widow explains as he enters the room. 

Bucky’s heart actually stops for a second when he sees him. The Captain. His eyes were striking, the bluest blue he’d ever seen. A pop of color in this dark room illuminated by moonlight. It’s the only thing he could see. 

Bucky thinks he might be sick.

They are the prettiest…yet, darkest eyes he’d crossed with. He’s seen some predatory Alphas up close, but none like this. None with this look of hate and pure evil. He couldn’t conceptualize where this feeling even came from. Perhaps it was his sixth sense. 

“Just my luck,” the voice is deep, but not ridiculously. Just deep, and smooth…and silky. Bucky can feel the vibrations of his commanding voice through every part of his body. He bows his head to avoid eye contact with the Alpha who suddenly outshined every other person in the room. 

The Captain steps forward toward the agents whose heads all lay low, afraid to challenge him. 

“Hm, not much to you kids, is there? Four Alphas. Two Betas…and, hm, an Omega? Is that right?” He laughs…the Captain is laughing. In their faces. 

“So, let me get this straight—you guys work for, who, Fury? And he thinks it’s a good idea to recruit Omegas now? As if puppies aren’t the easier ones to kill?” Bucky tenses up.

“He asked you a question,” the Falcon echoes from a few clicks back, eyeing the weakened Alpha whom the Captain has now grabbed a fistful of hair. 

“He’s—he’s new, just a play thing! Really!” Josef shouts as the Captain twisted his hair until a tuft of it came out. Perhaps Josef was trying to throw their scent off from being tied to Shield. Bucky wasn’t a play thing at all. He’d been with Shield for a year now, and he knew these agents well—he was respected at their organization.

He had no choice—living on the streets, without a family. For an Omega, that was a death sentence. Bucky was going to become another statistic—pregnant, trafficked, or dead before ever being properly claimed by an Alpha. 

After some issues with his first Heat, doctors urged him to seek medical assistance through an agency like Shield—work for them and they’ll study you, kind of deal.

“A play thing?” The Captain teases. 

“It’s good to keep an Omega around, so we can knot him after a good run, you know?” Josef stutters, and it was painfully obvious he was lying through his teeth. 

“Oh, I’m sure—because you kids are absolutely working under your own terms, and not for Fury,” the Captain speaks coldly and sarcastically. Before long, he uncovers a blade that was within his padded uniform—this Stealth suit of steel blue, skintight material—outlining how absurdly chiseled and built his body was. 

“W-wait! Please! I’ll work for you! I’ll do anything—please!” Josef shouts and squirms, trying to free his wrists, but it's too late. 

“I’m sure you would,” the predator releases his blade across Josef’s neck from one side to the other, inevitably slitting his throat open, allowing the blood to pour from it and pool into the big basin. 

Oh.

Now Bucky knew why they were all leaned up against this thing. All of them were to be executed like this. One by one. And Bucky was the last in line—just his luck. Watch all his comrades die first. Sure, whatever. 

The rest of the pack lost their composure. They were clearly not built for this kind of mission, though it was unbeknownst to them that this type of danger would find them so easily. Never in a million years did Josef plan on leading them right into the Captain’s hotspot. 

It was still so dark, and Bucky was unable to see the Captain’s face as he began to make his way over toward him, one by one. He cut each of their throats as though it was routine for him, just doing what came naturally. 

Bucky heard all of their horrified screams, their final breaths, their last proclamations of life and living and everything that was good in their world. 

He was stunned.

“These fuckin’ Shield agents. They just don’t know when to quit,” the Captain mutters to himself as he slit the throat of the sixth comrade. By the time he reaches Bucky, he pauses and takes a sharp inhale, towering over him from behind. Bucky still refuses to look at him—keeping his head low.

“Awe, what is it, puppy? Are you scared?” The Captain teases, as if nature took its course and he began toying with his prey.

“No—just pissed off,” Bucky scoffs, using every bone in his body to try and keep his composure as he lies through his teeth. If he was going to die, he wants to die reinforcing the kind of image he kept up for himself.

“That mouth,” the Captain tsks, “Gonna get you killed someday.”

“Isn’t that day today, Captain? With your dagger and…whatever,” Bucky sounds actually annoyed—like life was some game and he was mad he lost at level 19.

“Hm. Leave the room, you five,” the Captain calmly orders his dark operatives to exit the room, which they did so immediately without a word. And then there were two…and six dead bodies. 

“Is this a game to you, puppy? I like games.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ ‘puppy’.”

“Is that so?” The Captain kneels down behind Bucky, putting his knee to the backs of Bucky’s legs and leaning into the nape of his neck whispering, “Then why are you acting like one?”

“How the fuck am I acting like one?” Bucky squirms, leaning further forward to get the breath of the Captain off the back of his neck.

“Acting tough, working for Shield—like you forgot your place in this world, like a puppy,” Bucky can feel how sharp his teeth are, grinning as he said it. Like a puppy. As if he was into it. Bucky couldn’t help it…he whimpers out of fear as the man is literally sniffing him out.

“And what’s my place in this world?” Bucky bites back.

“You’re meant to be claimed and bred, carry pups and mother them—let your Alpha knot you whenever he wants,” the Captain nips at his neck ever so slightly—and it causes Bucky to jolt forward, “You forget your training?”

“Get off of me—just, kill me already!” Bucky shouts. It actually sounds lame how quickly he begs for death—but something about the Captain’s energy is just so daunting.

“Hm,” the Captain ponders again as he places his dagger across Bucky’s neck, pulling his head back by his short brown curls, “A puppy…giving me an order?”

“I—please, stop! Stop teasing me!” Bucky yelps to no avail.

“I don’t see very many Omegas in my day to day, considering my line of work,” he pushes the dagger gently into Bucky’s throat, piercing his skin, though not dragging the blade.

“Ow! Fuck—fuck you!” Bucky keeps his head still so as not to make it worse, but his hands are moving frantically in attempts to escape the metal.

“Tell me, do you have an Alpha waiting for you at home, puppy?” He teases again, this time speaking directly into his ear, where his hot breath makes the scent gland tingle and release more pheromones than he’d care to admit.

“Mnnggh—,” Bucky whimpers, shamefully.

The Captain drops the knife into the basin and moves his free hand to rest on Bucky’s shoulder while he pulls his hair tighter with his other hand.

“Answer me, puppy.”

“N—no! No Alpha has claimed me, you cunt!”

“Captain,” he husks as he pushes Bucky’s head down and puts two fingers behind his ear, circling his scent gland.

“What?!” Bucky cries.

“You call me Captain, got it?”

Bucky was shaking now, afraid of how his body was reacting. His comrades are dead next to him—like, actually DEAD, and this Alpha is digging his knee into the back of his legs, playing with him before he presumably kills him—and yet, Bucky couldn’t help but feel aroused?! Despite how scared he is?

It wasn’t fair. He was biologically designed to react a certain way when his intimates—like his scent gland—were touched. And this Captain was surely rubbing it. Bucky could hear the leather of the Alpha’s fingerless gloves rubbing up against itself.

“Please, stop touching me there,” Bucky pleads as his eyes roll into the back of his head. The Captain felt a strong sense wash over him from the pheromones coming out of Bucky.

“Tell me your name, puppy,” he keeps rubbing him. Bucky found himself answering the Alpha as if his body was working against his mind.

“Bucky—people call me Bucky,” he is still struggling beneath the Alpha’s touch. Despite how deprived the Alpha seems from contact with Omegas, he was holding himself together exceedingly well. Like a professional. His knot was undeniably trying to rip itself out of his combat suit, but the Captain kept himself controlled.

It’s a matter of discipline.

“Bucky. It’s a pretty name for a pretty boy,” the Captain whispers while he pulls his head away from his ear, releasing the tight grip in his hair and letting his hands fall to Bucky’s shoulders.

“You don’t even know what I look like—you’re looking at the back of my head, you idiot!” Bucky always bit back, even to a guy like him. The Captain slid one of his hands up around Bucky’s neck, squeezing him while the blood smudges beneath the warmth of his palm seeping into the seams of his brown fingerless gloves.

“You call me a name one more time—”

“And what? You’ll kill me? As if you weren’t going to do that already!” The Alpha had it. He’s ready to kill this puppy. He tightens his grip on Bucky’s neck, effectively choking him until he can't speak.

“I’m gonna turn you around, okay, puppy? I want you to see my face, look into my eyes, as I put my fucking hand through your chest, you hear me, puppy?” The Captain whispers grossly into his ear as Bucky’s back is pressed up against his chest. 

“Aaaghhh—!” Bucky squirms beneath his grasp, letting stifled screams escape as far as they could. He didn’t know he could get any more fearful…but it was happening. The Captain’s voice was far more demanding than any Alpha Bucky had encountered before. 

But he didn’t see himself getting out of this, so he had no filter—why bother? Why act like anything but the brat he is?

The Captain turns Bucky over, letting his arms and back rest against the cold hard edge of the basin. While Bucky makes his attempts to look up at the man, he notices that he had stood up, just so he could look down at him.

This was the first time Bucky considers that wow, he actually hadn’t seen this man's face before. In fact, there were never any reports of the Captain’s actual profile—just small distinctions like his blue eyes, and some even recall seeing blond hair peaking out from the back of the helmet—but nothing else. Nobody ever lives to tell the story of his whole face.

Bucky is trembling, though he still acts tough.

“Y’know, I can’t see your face if you got that fuckin’ helmet on…’m jus’ sayin’,” Bucky sounds like a know-it-all while he gazes up at the beautifully shaped Alpha towering over him.

“Y’know,” the Captain says—just to mock him, “No one ever sees me without my helmet off, and if they did—they surely don’t live long after.”

“Why do you keep saying things implying I have a chance at anything but dying?”

“Maybe I want to play with my food before I eat it.”

“That sounds unlike you, from what I hear.”

“Oh yeah?” The Captain reaches his hand down to Bucky’s short hair, running his fingers through his scalp until he is far back enough to grip on it, keeping Bucky’s gaze up toward him, “And what do you hear about me?”

“Not a lot—really,” he gulps when the Alpha tightens his grip—but keeps his composure all the while, “Fury just says you’re our number one enemy—that you run an organization, maybe similar to HYDRA. But your intentions…? We don’t know a lot.”

“Does Fury really talk about me like he knows anything?”

“Mmnn…like, he says that we should be afraid of you because he doesn’t know who you are…,” it was quiet for a moment, the Alpha keeps his glare on Bucky and Bucky falters in his eye contact before feeling compelled to say, “He has this crazy theory, though,” with a tremble in his voice.

“Uh-huh…,” the Captain subtly bites his own lip, still glaring at the Omega until he adds, “What’s this theory of his?” 

The air felt tense between them. Bucky being on his knees like a puppy, and the Alpha looking down at him, knowing that Bucky couldn’t do anything to change his situation. It was beyond him. 

Bucky kept talking against his better judgment. 

“He suggested once that you’re Captain America, or at least—a carbon copy of him. But that all seems too obvious, right? Especially since you go by Captain. He thinks you might be doing that on purpose,” Bucky kind of laughs as he said the last part—in a way that acknowledged the absurdity of it.

“Fury’s always been intelligent,” the Captain lets go of Bucky’s hair and reaches up to his chin, where he undoes the clasp of his helmet. Bucky’s heart actually skips a beat. He wonders…just for a moment, if this was going to be the last thing he sees. 

He watches as the helmet slowly comes off of his face, revealing the blond hair. It was dark, so it took a second for him to process the face he was seeing…and…well.

It was him.

Like, actually him.

Captain America. 

Steve Rogers.

“I…I don’t believe it…,” Bucky stammers.

“Better start believing, puppy,” he kneels down again so that his face is closer to Bucky’s.

“But—but, you’re like our idol! You died—you died seventy years ago—!” Bucky stops for a second and thinks about it…he ‘died’ because he was never found.

“No, I went missing.”

“So—so, did you even take down HYDRA? Did—is…is HYDRA still active? Are you—”

“Captain Hydra—is the full name,” he grins, like he was proud of it.

“You come up with that one yourself?” Bucky scoffs. The Alpha aggressively grabs his jaw, tightly gripping as he speaks to him.

“Watch it. I mean it. You’re such a brat—who let you act this way? No Alphas in your life at all or something?”

“None that could tame me, if that’s what you mean,” Bucky struggles to speak through his grasp. He was always an oddball Omega for obvious reasons at this point. His lack of submission to the most attractive Alpha he’d ever seen was rather telling—and his ability to become a Shield agent was well…unique to say the least. 

“I see,” the Alpha slides his hand from Bucky’s jaw to his throat, which is still bleeding ever so slightly. He presses his thumb and middle finger into Bucky’s neck in a particular way, and Bucky feels his eyesight begin to blur. 

“W—what are you…,” he whispers as his eyes flicker shut. 

“You get to live another day, puppy.”

//

Bucky awoke to a faintly lit room, laying on a made bed with soft sheets. It took him a moment to remember where he was. And that’s when he realizes that he actually didn’t know where he was, he isn't supposed to—but the memories of his comrades' yelps and screams came flooding back in. 

Bucky begins crying. He’d been so fearful in front of Captain fucking America—preoccupied with their interaction that he never had time to really process the deaths of people he’s been working with for a year. It was devastating, and he was sobbing because of it. Loudly. 

He begins to scan the room through his tears, finding it to be small. Just four walls and a roof. Oh yeah, and the bed he was on. There was a side table on each side of the bed. He looks at his wrists and analyzes the markings left on them from the cuffs. 

Bucky massages at his wrists—and it felt good, given it was a sensitive part of his body that carries scent glands, one he didn't stimulate too often.

He knew this would release more pheromones, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now. He needs to calm down, and this was an easy way to reset his body.

Bucky leans back into the bed, feeling defeated. He couldn’t even see a door in the room he was in. He knew it was there somewhere, probably like—one of those hidden doors with all the crazy technology they have now. 

Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about how it was literally Captain America. And that HYDRA was still active. So many things he had to report to Shield, but he fears he’d never be making it out of here. These were his final days. 

He worries as he thinks about what Steve Rogers might want from him. 

Surely…he wants to knot him. What else is he good for as an Omega? Bucky was mentally preparing for the worst. He hadn’t ever been with anybody—let alone, the Apex Alpha of all Alphas. Bucky can't help but feel…intoxicated at the thought. Intoxication isn’t necessarily a good thing—it’s captivating, and controls a person against their better judgment.

Bucky hears the door open, which is when he realizes it was on his left—and it did in fact, blend in with the wall. The Captain walks in, charming as ever despite the blood on his hands. Not literal blood—this time, at least. 

“You’re awake.”

“Where the fuck am I?” Bucky doesn't waste any time. 

“You’re where I want you to be.”

“Why won’t you kill me?” 

“I like your scent. You make me curious,” the Captain makes his way into the room as the door closes behind him before adding, “And I’ve never been curious,” he is wearing more casual clothing this time—an athletic compression shirt and joggers. 

Bucky feels intimidated all over again. It kind of made him sick to his stomach—hearing words that feed the idea of being bred by this man. I like your scent. He also feels like this was some kind of manipulation tactic, stating that Bucky was different—that the Alpha hasn’t ever been “curious” like this before. 

“How many Omegas you use that line on?”

“Just one,” his voice is smooth as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

“Mhm, whatever,” Bucky scoffs again, not believing him. 

“That’s fine. You don’t have to believe me,” he leans forward, closer to Bucky but not really near him, “You’ll learn. Eventually.”

“Stop it. Stop acting like you have any control over me!” Bucky scoots himself into the headboard of the bed, further away from the Alpha. 

“But I do. I do have control over you. You’re an Omega in the presence of well…me," he smirks at Bucky like it's funny and says, "This only has one ending."

“It’s not fair—you’re taking advantage of me. Of my biology. It’s just…not fair,” Bucky sighs. 

“One day, you might thank me.”

“If you’re not going to kill me, you have to talk to me—you have to tell me how it’s possible you’re still alive.”

“Hmm, okay. I will. I want to bathe you while I talk to you, how does that sound?”

“B-bathe me? Like—you want me naked in front of you? You want to wash me?!” Bucky's horrified all over again.

“I want you clean before you start nesting in those blankets,” he nods at the bed, referencing how it was still made and only the top blanket had been disturbed by Bucky being laid on it.

“I—I don’t know, I mean, can I even say no?” Bucky knows the kind of man this Alpha is at this point…but the thought of his cold, figuratively bloody hands touching him rather intimately—bare skin and all…Bucky shudders in anticipation. He doesn't want that.

“Do you want to? Say no, I mean?” The Alpha stares at him with his piercing blue eyes.

“Of course I want to say no, but I have a feeling you’ll do it anyway,” Bucky mews. And he's not wrong. The Captain would do it anyway, so what's his play here? He may have been quick to yell at the Alpha stating that he doesn’t have control over him, and he meant that—to some capacity. 

What Bucky implies was that he will not submit himself to the Alpha, though the Alpha might still pursue him anyway—Bucky will just refuse to cooperate, is all.

“Try me. Say no,” it feels like an order—how ironic.

“Uhm—n…no, I don’t want you to bathe me,” Bucky bows his head, like he's preparing to be struck. But instead, the Alpha leans into him gently and puts his nose to the crease of Bucky’s collarbone, taking a deep breath.

“Mmnnn,” the Captain pulls away, pausing with a moment's space between he and Bucky’s faces, “Alright, Bucky. I’ll leave you to it,” he stood up, promptly readjusting his shirt and pants from the creases of sitting down, and then made his way towards the hidden door.

“Where are you going?” Bucky is just confused now—he can’t actually be leaving him alone, can he?

“I have business elsewhere while you get cleaned up, it’ll be through that door,” the Alpha nods toward the other side of the room, where a door opens from the wall.

“Wow, another hidden door.”

“It’ll open when you go near it from now on.”

And with that, the Alpha was off. Steve Rogers left Bucky alone in that room. Bucky looks at his hands, and his bruised wrists. He sat there for a moment, contemplating his very existence, his guilt—how he’s living, and the others are not. He got up and made his way into the bathroom, which had a tub, a sink, and a toilet—with the necessities that came along with that stuff.

“Better than home,” he scoffs to himself. He looks around at the corners of the room, knowing that he’s likely being watched. He can't actually see any cameras, though. But the feeling of it was enough. 

Bucky strips himself of his combat suit that Shield provides their agents—navy blue and military-like. He runs the water in the bath, and pulls the pin until it comes from the faucet above, operating like a shower.

By the time Bucky was done cleaning himself, thoroughly with the warmth of the water as it was offering him a comfort he’d been lacking the last 24 hours, he found a set of clothes folded on the bed. It was a dark grey t-shirt, light grey joggers, and cotton white socks. He felt the compression of the shirt as he put it on, seeing the print of his skinny abs and slim fit through it.

Like deja-vu, the door opens again, but instead of the Captain, it was the Widow who came through. 

“Hey.”

“Uh—hi?” Bucky is skeptical.

“I just came to check on you.”

“Why, wondered if I was still alive?” He rolls his eyes.

“Something like that. You could say it’s out of character for Ste—I mean, the Captain, to request having an Omega in his keep. In the years I’ve worked with him, it’s simply never happened. So, yes…I wonder if you were still alive—but more importantly, I’m just wondering why he’s acting differently with you,” she spoke honestly, and Bucky can tell that she actually kind of…cares?

“I know who he is, you don’t have to pretend like you aren’t on a first-name basis with him.”

“Well, I’ve surpassed those formalities with him. You haven’t. I wouldn’t call him by his first name to your face,” the door has closed behind her, and her arms are crossed, sizing up the Omega.

“And what about you, what’s your name? I hear they call you Widow, but that’s just your code name, or whatever,” if Bucky is going to be a guest here, why not get familiar?

“Hm. I suppose you can know my identity, seeing as you know the Captain’s and he hasn’t put a knife through your heart. Most call me Natasha, but in my country, it’s Natalia. I prefer Natasha around these parts. Only my Omega speaks of my home name.”

“I’m Bucky, it’s nice to meet you—I think.”

“I’m not so sure, yet. I’m just as curious as you.”

“Back at the warehouse, you said something about not agreeing with his methods, that he’s harsh—so why work for him?”

“Consider it loyalty. I owe him a debt, and that debt is as big as my life—thus, I give him my life, you understand?” She bows her head, as if she was recalling a memory she’d rather forget.

“No, I don’t. I could never live my life for someone else,” Bucky shrugs.

“You’re young, of course you can say that. You remind me of my Omega. She’s a sweet girl, innocent—like you,” Natasha smiles thinking about her.

“Did you take her like the Captain took me?” Bucky perks up. Hearing this villainous woman speak gently about an Omega of hers made him consider, just for a second, that maybe his situation might not turn out so bad…maybe, just maybe, he might come to find comfort in the piercing stare of Steve Rogers.

“No, my dear. I claimed Wanda when we were young, long before our lives were under the control of Captain Hydra. It’s a story for another time—I fear I’ve spoken too freely with you,” Natasha was usually a closed off person, but perhaps she found a soft spot for Omegas that remind her of her own.

“No—wait, don’t leave me alone!” Bucky says quickly as he notices she began to turn around, heading for the door. 

“You poor thing. I hope to see you again, okay? Да благословит тебя Господь.” (May the Lord bless you). Natasha may not be religious, but this was a common saying.

“You know, I don’t know Russian!” Bucky calls back, annoyed. But off she went, and Bucky was sitting here alone, once again.

Bucky was on suppressants, which he took in two forms. He had his hormone regulation in his arm, which was a small metal rod that he could kind of see imprinting on his skin. He also took pills by mouth, daily. His heats were particularly bad, so he required three different methods of treatment. 

The third was his IUD, which was in his womb—obviously. The IUD prevented pregnancy, the rod regulated his hormones, and the pills were an extra measure to regulate his hormones—given his Heats were rather taxing.

He experienced a lot of pain when in Heat, because he could never properly stimulate himself, Not with any of the toys he was provided with. He even had to undergo a medical examination, which is when they decided to pump him full of suppressants because they actually didn’t know how to solve the problem. 

Shield was aware of this, and it kind of became their own little experiment where they watched Bucky closely, his performance on missions and how his cycles were regulated—but in the time of him being an agent, he hasn’t had a Heat yet. It had been a year, and Bucky’s Heats were irregular.

Probably because of all the bullshit suppressants. Shield was unsure if they should wean him off of anything just yet. They wanted a proper analysis of how he interacted with others, first.

When Bucky had his first Heat, it was bad. Extremely painful for him. The suppressants were meant to dilute the Heats, and so far—it’s worked. He started routine treatment about a year ago, during his first Heat. Bucky was so publicly horrifying that it didn’t matter his homeless status, and he was taken into emergency for literal emergent treatment. 

And now, here he is, without his daily pills, knowing that his natural Heat cycle has been diluted and suppressed for over a year.

He sits in discomfort as he feels his pheromones radiate off of him stronger and stronger by the minute. It begins to make him squeamish. Before he knew it, his hand made its way to his nipples, softly touching them through the fabric of his shirt. His eyesight feels hazy, like he's falling into a daze of pleasure that he’s been undeniably lacking.

As if on cue, he hears the click of the door open again. Immediately, he stopped what he was doing.

“You don’t have to stop just because I came in here,” the Captain speaks firmly as he enters the room, approaching the bed with a box in his hands.

“Actually—that’s precisely why I have to stop,” Bucky looks at him with an expression of disgust.

“You clean up nice—washing off that dirt and grime—mmmnn, your scent is so much stronger now,” he takes a deep breath in the barren air before he sits down on the bed, placing the box between him and Bucky.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, but I won’t,” he winks at Bucky.

“You are so disgusting. How did people ever look up to you? Steve Rogers. Captain America, whatever,” Bucky crosses his arms and moves slightly further from the box between them.

“I didn’t give you permission to use my name, did I?” The Alpha reaches for Bucky’s legs, gripping tightly at his knees and pulling him closer to the box. It was as if Bucky weighs nothing, the way he is so easily maneuvered.

“Steve. Stevie, whatever!” Bucky moves away again urgently, turning over onto his knees as he crawls up toward the pillows of the bed. Bucky can’t believe that man just put his hands on his body again. His bloody, twisted, evil fucking hands.

The Captain doesn’t waste any time before he lunges on top of Bucky, pinning him into the bed while he wraps his hand around the Omega’s jaw, holding his head up as he speaks directly into his ear.

“Every breath you take is a mercy from me,” he squeezes Bucky’s jaw tighter, “You’re living because I’m letting you—stop pretending like you’re not afraid of death. You’re terrified, I can smell it on you. What’s it gonna take for you to submit to me, puppy? What’s it gonna take for you to remember your place?” The Alpha is angry, Bucky can hear the grit in his teeth.

“F-fuck you! You don’t own me!” Bucky manages to spit out before the Alpha shoves his head down into the pillows.

“Do I have to knot you? Right here and now? Is that it?” He puts his lips to the nape of Bucky’s neck, breath hot and heavy as he hovers over his skin. Bucky whimpers—muffled as it escapes into the bedsheets. Perhaps that worked in his favor.

“Please—don’t, I—,” Bucky turns his head to the side, panicking, so the Alpha could hear him before he interrupts.

“What is it? You’re afraid you’ll like it, puppy? Afraid you’ll plead for more, forgetting your honor—forgetting who you serve?!” Bucky can feel the Alpha’s knot up against his behind, even though there were clothes between them. It was this big—hard thing, and that’s when Bucky shouts.

“I—I’m a virgin! I’m not ready—please, sir…,” he cries.

“Mm,” the Captain softens his grip, just a little, “A virgin, huh?”

“Please, I’m not lying—I’ve never done anything—I’ve been on suppressants since my first Heat, I—I haven’t had one since!” Bucky’s breath slows down, eyes still closed in fear. 

Finally, the Alpha takes his hand off of Bucky’s head, and relaxes the rest of his body, climbing off of Bucky and sitting at his side while the Omega continues laying on his belly. Bucky's head is turned to his left, where the Captain is sitting.

“When was your last Heat?”

“A year ago, Captain.”

“What form are your suppressants?”

“I take pills daily, and a rod in my arm, sir,” Bucky feels defeated at this point.

“Two forms? Are your Heats that bad?”

“Worse,” Bucky whimpers, putting his head back into the pillow.

“Awe, puppy…,” the Alpha reaches his hand over and caresses Bucky’s hair, scratching at his scalp gently. It made Bucky shiver—no matter what, he couldn’t get used to this man’s touch, knowing how evil his hands are—what they’ve done, what they could do.

“Mnnphh,” Bucky whimpers again.

“You don’t like when I touch you, do you?” He asks like it was surprising.

“No…”

“It’s a shame, really.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m never going to stop touching you,” his hand slides down Bucky’s head and caresses the nape of his neck.

“I hate you,” Bucky sighs dreadfully.

“I like you,” the Alpha retaliates. He glances down at Bucky’s behind and notices exactly what he was hoping to happen—the grey pants have been dampened. Bucky’s slick, uncontrollable as it was, has secreted through his fabrics. “You want to know something?”

“What…?” Bucky anticipates. The Alpha moves his hand to Bucky’s shoulder, where he rolls him over until he is laying on his back, gasping at the realization that he’s landed in something wet.

“That’s all you, puppy.”

“I—I don’t understand,” Bucky examines his body, horrified as he realizes his genetic makeup has betrayed his own mind.

“When’s the last time you got that wet?”

“Shut up, you’re just feeding your ego. I’ve missed like two pill intakes, this uhm, would’ve happened anyway…,” Bucky tries convincing himself.

“You’re cute.”

“Oh my god, shuttttt upppp!” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I want you to call me Steve. I feel you’ve earned that right, seeing as you’re this vulnerable around me,” Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s leg and gazes across his body. Bucky practically twitches.

“Oh right, fuckin’ Steve Rogers. God, I can’t even believe this is happening right now,” he whispers to himself until he shouts, “How fuckin’ old are you?!”

“I’m about 96 years old, but my body is more or less 35. The serum has treated me well, is all I can really say to that. How old are you, anyway?”

“I’m 19…you pervert. 19 and you were threatening to knot me.”

“You’ve had your first Heat already, you’re not illegal,” Steve’s hand snakes from Bucky’s leg to his left wrist, where he grips onto him and turns his arm over until his wrist is at the ceiling. It’s true. 

Bucky wasn’t illegal, but he was young—very young compared to Steve Rogers. It was…somewhat abnormal to have this much of an age gap—albeit, nobody was as old as Steve Rogers and still in their prime bonding time.

“What are you doing now?” Bucky sighs.

“Looking for your suppressant rod.”

“W…why?” Bucky gulps.

“I’m going to take it out.”

“Are you crazy?!” Bucky pulls his arm out of the Captain’s grasp.

“I’ve been described that way.”

“I need that, you don’t understand. My first Heat had to be medically supervised. They didn’t even know what to do with me, so they loaded me up with suppressants as a failsafe. It’s why Shield took me on—they’re studying me, trying to find more information on cycles as detrimental as mine. So, you can’t take it out,” Bucky has his left arm crossed at his chest, protecting himself from the Alpha.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but really—you’re just making me more curious. Maybe I want to help you through your Heat—maybe, you just need a good Alpha.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I almost died last time. Nothing they provided me with satisfied my Heat—nothing was b—,” Bucky stops himself before he finishes his sentence. How much was he willing to expose to this hungry Alpha? It was embarrassing, to say the least.

“Big enough? Is that what you were going to say?” The Alpha smirks with a giggle.

“No. Whatever.”

“Did anybody try touching you? Did they lick you? Did they penetrate you? Or was it all just toys?” Steve pushes for more information. Bucky can’t believe his mouth keeps opening and words keep coming out.

“I feel weird talking about this with you. I don’t remember a lot of it, okay? But…I think it was just toys. They were afraid to touch me because I didn’t have a medical history on file. I’d been homeless, I was an emergency case,” Bucky bows his head, ashamed to admit where he came from—which was nowhere.

“I see.”

“So, don’t take it out, okay? Please, sir?” Bucky doesn't realize until now that he’s been calling Steve sir. He's kind of embarrassed, like it was some default way to speak to this authoritative man.

“I wish I was kinder for you, but unfortunately…I’m not,” the Alpha crawls on top of Bucky, effectively pinning him in place with his knees, grabbing Bucky’s arm with the rod in it.

“Wait—please, Steve! Wait!” But Steve doesn’t stop. He pulls a knife from his pocket and flips it open, placing it next to the rod in Bucky’s arm. His knot grows as he cuts the Omega’s skin, blood pooling on the surface while the blade slid smoothly across. 

Bucky is screaming, but the Alpha doesn't really process it. He is so focused on the cut, the blood. 

“Glorious, isn’t it?” He pants to himself when the rod slid out of Bucky’s arm. The cut he creates is perfect, enough to release the medical device as intended. Steve cuffs his hand around the cut, which was about 2.5 inches (6.35 cm) long. “Beautiful…,” he's salivating as the blood spreads beneath the warmth of his palm.

Finally, he begins to process Bucky’s screams, and looks at his pretty face. The poor thing is sobbing, cheeks red and eyes squinting open and closed, frantically. He likes the sound of his yelps and cries, and he shamelessly admits that.

“You sound pretty like this,” he leans down to Bucky’s neck, who is so overstimulated, he was just running his hands all over the Alpha—pawing at his chest and shoulders, distracted at the pain and unable to process anything that was happening.

“Gghh—aghh,” Bucky whimpers. Steve places his hand gently on Bucky’s chin, turning his head to the side to expose his ear and the side of his neck. At that, Steve put his lips to Bucky’s scent gland behind his ear, softly kissing him—letting his tongue massage the skin to calm him down. 

“That’s it…you did so good, good boy…,” he whispers through his kisses.

Bucky feels his body relaxing, rolling his eyes back at the wet warmth of the Alpha’s tongue on his gland. He's still crying, but it's softer now…his eyes peel open. It was blurry at first, but he can see the Alpha’s blond hair in his peripheral vision, still licking at his neck. Bucky was aware of everything now, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell the Alpha to stop…it just—felt so good.

“I hate you,” he whispers, swallowing hard as he revels in the sting of his gash. Steve kept kissing him…and kissing him, watching Bucky come undone at the sensation. A couple minutes had gone by, and Bucky basically melted into the bed, eyes closed from exhaustion. He’d fallen asleep, which is precisely what Steve wanted to happen.

Steve took it upon himself to open the box he’d brought earlier, that was still sitting at the end of the bed. In it was a medkit—like, first aid stuff. He came in here with the intention of hurting Bucky…it’s what helped him get off without actually knotting someone. 

He just didn’t know how he’d be hurting him, until the opportunity presented itself. And it was one that felt a lot more intimate than just cutting him—no. This served a greater purpose.

He bandages Bucky together, no stitches or anything. The poor thing needs to rest after this. And Steve likes a deep cut, one he could keep revisiting if need be. He made sure the bleeding had stopped, at least. It took a while, but eventually, it did. After cleaning up the area, he pulls the covers down and puts them over Bucky, watching as he instinctively burrows into it.

Steve wants to cuddle up with the Omega, but it feels unnatural right now. He’d want Bucky to be awake and receptive to intimacy—or at least aware of it. So, instead—he walks out of the room intending to come back later, when Bucky is awake.

Steve enters his office—which has one window. Most of the rooms had no windows, their facility was primarily underground, but it did extend into the skies of NYC. 

HYDRA operatives were just that, operatives. Secret agents. Secret. Nobody knew they were around, not since ‘45. Steve made sure of that.

He found the Falcon—Sam, and Natasha in his office, waiting for him.

“What are you doing to that poor Omega?” Natasha bombards him. Of all Alphas in this organization, Natasha was the only one that spoke to Steve in a way that others would deem dangerous. 

“Nothing that concerns you, Nat,” he sits at his desk.

“I can see the blood under your fingernails. If you’re going to kill him, can’t you do it already?” Natasha believes in their work, but she didn’t like how Steve did things—as aforementioned. She wasn’t afraid to be vocal about it either.

“I don’t want to kill him,” Steve kept it brief, why did he owe her an explanation? He doesn’t.

“Can we focus and talk about what we really came in here for?” Sam interrupts. He was always down to business, and tried not to get in the middle of Steve and Nat’s little arguments.

“Thanks, yeah. What’s the report?” Steve responds.

“Basically, you shouldn’t have taken that Omega. I know you have your reasons, but it’s really just raising questions that’s putting heat on us. Shield believes they’re the most advanced intelligence organization, but with their agents getting killed left and right, and the six that they found slaughtered at the warehouse, they are REALLY on our backs this time, Cap,” Sam couldn’t stress enough that HYDRA was likely getting themselves in some deep shit because of something Steve insisted on.

“So, taking Bucky was a bad call. Got it,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Steve, Sam’s right. Why did you insist on it anyway? We have never done that before. I’m beginning to question your intentions—with the Omega and everything, you’re acting out of character. You want a chase or something, don’t you? You want them looking for the Omega—it excites you, I’m sure of it,” the Widow always read him like a fucking book she wrote.

“Natasha, sometimes you’re too smart for your own good. Yeah, consider me bored. I’ve been in hiding for 70 years. I haven’t been with anybody for more than 70 years. I’m just some entity, I hardly have fun anymore. I just kill the right people at the right times, that’s all I do. Maybe I want something new, you know?” Steve shrugs it off.

“Well, your little activities are getting us in some deep shit, Cap,” Sam sounds annoyed.

“What about Rumlow and Rollins? How are things looking for them—you know, inside Shield and all?” Steve pushes for more information. Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins were some of their insiders, who work for HYDRA as operatives, but were inside Shield as agents. \

Shield had no idea. 

“They’re the ones saying you’re an idiot for taking Bucky. Shield already knows that we’re a violent organization, even more so than before. They still don’t know who we are, but Fury is really pushing for answers. You really got Shield uprooting their protocols—trying to find new methods to find who we are, what our purpose is, all that mambo jumbo,” Sam responds promptly.

“And they seem particularly concerned about the Omega you took. Rumlow and Rollins have us tapped into their news channel that circles their building to inform their agents of everything, I suggest you take a look at it,” Natasha adds.

“Thank you both, you’re very helpful. Tell Rumlow and Rollins I commend them for putting up with a complicated time at Shield HQ,” Steve sounds pleased.

“I don’t like how calm you are about this, where’s our angry Captain?” Natasha crosses her arms, squinting her eyes like she suspects something of Steve.

“I’m just reveling in the drama, honestly. It hasn’t been this hot since I died 70 years ago,” Steve laughs at his own joke. 

“We’ll be back later, I’m taking point on this. We’re going to stir up some ideas with our operatives on how to dilute the situation—whether you want to or not. It’s my call, alright?” Sam interjects.

“And that’s why I call you captain too, Sam. We’re a lot alike,” Steve winks. He watches as Natasha rolls her eyes and mutters something in Russian, walking out behind Sam.

Steve sat back in his office chair and smiled. He didn’t feel like this often—like he was excited, anticipating what was next. HYDRA had been his constant ever since he faked his death, and it was always about the purpose of their work and running the world their way, which meant he had no time for himself. Steve was arguably a conservative Alpha. It’s not often that an Alpha can stop himself from knotting anybody through their Ruts—let alone 70 years worth of them.

Steve beat the odds, though. It was part of why many of the Alphas who worked for him feared him, because his self control was uncomfortably intimidating. It’s what made him stand out—and he could smell the fear of his operatives anytime he entered the room. His senses were sharper than anybody he’d ever met, and that gave him the upperhand—always. 

But, in recent days, he was caught off guard for the first time in a long time—at this Omegas scent. He felt like he had lost control, and that made him curious. He never hesitates to kill, it’s literally not in his blood. But…the scent and whimpers of the Omega made him question his natural tendencies. 

When he put his knees to Bucky’s legs, pinning him against the basin…when he got a proper smell of his scent gland—touching him and teasing him, it made Steve feel things he thought he was otherwise incapable of feeling, ever since he went in the ice and came out on the other side.

And just now, when he’d been teasing the Omega and cutting his skin, his knot grew larger than he remembered possible. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he actually wanted to fuck somebody—breed them, claim them. Until today, when this young Omega found his way into his keep. 

He is shamelessly excited, sooo excited, he closes his eyes and pictures the Omega laid up in that bed while his hand trails down to his pants, unbuckling his belt.

Steve pulls out his cock, which is hard already while he recalls the scent of the Omega, knowing he’s just down the hall. Steve begins tugging at his knot, his hand working overtime. 

Every stroke feels like his cock is being pulled from his body, he’s never worked it so hard before—but he needs to. He's trying to satisfy himself in the way he wished he felt inside of the Omegas asshole. Steve knew he’d experience it one day, if not soon.

“Fuck…,” he mutters to himself, eyes rolling into his skull while he jerks off at his desk. He felt a rush of aggression surge, squeezing his free fist together tightly while his nails pierce his skin. He grits his teeth as his hand moves faster and faster until he can feel his knot about to release. Steve could hold out if he wants to, but he doesn't. This was a task for him, he needed to get this out of his system—he didn’t particularly enjoy it.

He wants to fuck that Omega.

Not fuck his own fist.

But even with all the evil things he’s done, he didn’t feel it was time to knot that puppy. Not yet. Part of him…well, he couldn’t understand why. He’s never treated anybody with the privacy he’s given to Bucky—letting him wash himself, listening to him when he said he wasn’t ready to be knotted, to being touched like that—it was unlike Steve. 

Steve’s never treated an Alpha or a Beta with such courtesies, usually torturing them in any way he’s wanted to—even if it meant sexually. He’d never fuck them himself, but he’d touch them in ways they never imagined. 

He had milked Alphas before, especially Rumlow, ridding him of his knots with his own hands—just to assert dominance. And yet, this poor Omega begging for him to wait, Steve was surprised that he was actually waiting. Why did he even care?

Before he knew it, Steve blew his load all over his desk, not even attempting to cover his projectile with his hand. He just let it out, and it was so much—he was pent up. All the teasing with the Omega and his sweet scent—it was bringing something out of Steve he forgot was there. 

He took a couple deep breaths for a moment before he put his cock back in his pants, and began to clean up his area. He hated seeing his cum anywhere but that Omegas asshole.

Steve felt that it was time to review the news footage circling Shield HQ, but he thought he should have fun with it—and decided to make his way down to Bucky’s keep. When he enters the room, Bucky is already awake, coming out of the bathroom with an alert look on his face.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks while he blocks the door until it shuts.

“I’d say I’m in pain, but you’d probably like to hear that,” Bucky’s gaze drops to the floor while he crawls back onto the bed, grabbing a pillow and putting it between his legs. He’d just cleaned himself up for the second time since he’s been locked in here. And it proved difficult with that gash in his arm. It was kind of bleeding again, since the bandage got damaged by the water.

“You’re starting to understand me, Bucky,” Steve winks at him. He makes his way over to Bucky, standing at the bedside. Bucky bows his head, turning away from Steve with a soft whimper—again, defeated but unwilling to run. He’d lost the bit of fight he had in him. Physically, at least.

“If you’re gonna touch it, just do it already,” Bucky snaps, referring to his wound.

“Just replacing your bandage, is all,” Steve says as he undoes the wrap, and rewraps it with a clean cloth that he had readily at the side table. He took his sweet time, smelling the fresh blood as it trickled out of the Omega's pretty body.

“That really fucking hurts, Steve,” Bucky pouts, still avoiding eye contact. 

“Good—I want it to,” he smiles.

“I can hear you smiling, you know. Like, without even looking at you, I can hear your cheeks turn upwards, I can feel your white teeth just staring at me.”

“I like it better when you look at me,” Steve replies as he reaches for Bucky’s chin, softly pulling his face towards his own—Bucky was looking up at the Alpha, eyes beady and big.

“Looking at you makes me nauseous,” and it did. The touch of Steve’s fingers on his face made Bucky want to cry all over again, but he held it in.

“Need me to lick your neck again? Might calm you down,” Steve teases. Bucky drops his gaze, embarrassed at the recollection of what happened earlier. He couldn’t remember hearing himself purr, but he knows he did. It was his innate reaction to that kind of stimulation…and it was so good…he hates to think about it.

“Please, don’t do that,” Bucky laughs nervously.

“You sure?” Steve leans down to Bucky’s ear after setting the supplies back on the side table, gently crawling on top of the Omega as he did so, “You seemed to really like it last time,” he whispers into his ear. 

Bucky whimpers…and it’s pleasurable but in a fearful kind of way. Being weaned off of his suppressants was really starting to show.

“I—sir, I mean—Steve, please I’m—nervous…you make me nervous,” he stammers over his words as Steve breathes in his scent at his neck, still above him. Steve lifts his head until he is making eye contact with Bucky, who seems frozen in place—especially considering he has limited mobility. 

“I make you nervous?” Steve asks, like it was a surprise. Obviously he does.

“M—mhm,” Bucky gulps. 

“Let's ease some of that tension, yeah?” Steve kisses Bucky’s forehead—which he felt him flinch from. Next, Steve hovers his lips above Bucky’s, feeling the Omega tremble beneath him. Bucky has his eyes closed while his shaky breaths escape his mouth.

“H—how?” he manages to say. At that, Steve puts his lips onto Bucky’s, giving a soft kiss at first. He waits until he feels the heat of the Omega’s breath breathe into his own mouth—closing in on the kiss as well.

Bucky is surprised, to say the least. The Alpha is being gentle with him—and it's nearly romantic with how soft the kiss was. So, he kind of instinctually…kisses back. He didn’t expect it. He’d never kissed anybody before, but it felt natural. 

Their lips lock like they were two pieces of the same cloth. He follows Steve’s lead, as the kiss deepens. Oh God…is that his tongue? Bucky resists it at first, unsure how to accept this unique fixture into his mouth…but Steve was insisting on it.

The kiss was still slow, but their tongues were beginning to get familiar with each other—the warmth, texture, and sliminess of it all. It was an odd sensation—wet, but not very sloppy, because it was still slow and delicate. Steve pulls away from the embrace after a minute or two, planting kisses on Bucky’s cheeks, nose, and then his forehead.

“Like that,” Steve finally says. Bucky is in disbelief—his eyes peel open to see the Alpha looking right at him with his piercing blue stare. 

“I never kissed anyone before,” Bucky whispers shyly.

“Did you like it?” Steve is actually curious.

“I…I think so?” Bucky sounds like he was about to cry, admitting something like that. Steve wonders if he was just saying that, though—like maybe it was a test, and he’d hurt him if he said the wrong thing.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Bucky,” Steve says as he rolls off of him onto the left side of the bed, getting cozy while he places his arm around Bucky, pulling him into the cuddle.

“I wish I could lie to you,” Bucky pouts while his head leans perfectly into Steve’s pec. It felt like a pillow of its own, round and squishy, but hard as hell at the same time.

“I want to show you something,” Steve pulls a remote from his pocket, and points it at the wall across the bed where a TV suddenly pops out of the wall, “My operatives say that Shield HQ has been going crazy the last 24 hours, ever since the warehouse. We always kill you guys, and then leave the bodies for Shield to recover. None of you have ever gone missing before—until you. That’s not our usual MO, it’s new, so I want you to see what they’ve been saying.”

“How? How do you even have access…?” Bucky watches as the Shield HQ news channel gets pulled up on the TV. He was in disbelief, like Shield were idiots and HYDRA was far more advanced than them, with the technology he’d been exposed to so far.

“We’ve always had access. We’ve already infiltrated Shield, Bucky—we never left,” Steve smirks proudly. Bucky frowns…fighting the urge to start bawling. It made him feel even more guilty, sitting up here in the arms of Captain Hydra himself. He never in a million years imagined himself in this situation. The TV starts playing.

“Six agents of ours were found dead at the warehouse. We believe this is the work of our mystery man and his organization, known as The Captain. Their bodies were found with slit throats, which is a common way The Captain has been known to kill people. The unusual part is, our only Omega agent has gone missing.”

The TV begins showing identification photos for each agent, showing red exes over the six that had been slaughtered, and a question mark over Bucky’s face. Chills went down his spine as he perked up, listening to the reporter.

“Agent James Barnes—who is a valuable asset to us, just as his comrades were. He was there that night, in that warehouse. We found his DNA, but we don’t know where he is. We have to assume that The Captain took him as hostage—god help him. This is considered one of our more emergent cases, and it’s important we start questioning why The Captain has suddenly changed his MO. Why now? Director Fury encourages you all to come up with ideas, we don’t care how far fetched they seem. When you feel your idea is worth presenting, bring it to floor 67…” 

Bucky sits there, stunned. He's leaning forward at this point, sitting up as his mouth hangs slightly open. Steve studies him, still laying back into the pillows. He saw the side of his face, the gloss in his eyes. 

He likes what he sees—as much as he wants to give Bucky space—for some odd reason—let him mourn the deaths of his comrades, and the work of his agency…he really really wants to fuck him. He didn’t know what he was thinking, kissing him like that. It just made it harder—literally. His knot is so obvious.

“Your name is James?” Steve breaks the silence.

“Huh?” Bucky looks back at him.

“They called you Agent James. Is that your name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

“I get it, Bucky, that’s cute,” Steve smiles warmly.

“Steve,” Bucky sounds ill, “I’m so scared—they’re gonna come looking for me, and you’re just gonna kill them, aren’t you? More blood, more death, and then you’re gonna touch me with the same fucking hands, the same ones you used to kill them—it makes my stomach turn,” he put his face in his palms, softly crying at the spiraling thoughts.

“We don’t know what’s going to happen, okay? Come here,” Steve reaches for Bucky’s shoulder to pull him back into the bed with him—but Bucky pulls away.

“No, don’t touch me!” He cries. Steve takes a deep breath, trying to ration his reaction.

“It’s going to be easier if you let me touch you, Bucky,” he spoke calmly. Bucky turns back at him, feeling the threat in his tone. He stares at his blue eyes for a minute, taking slow breaths while he considers the weight of Steve’s words.

“W…what do you want to do?” Bucky finally asks, preparing himself for the worst.

Steve looks at him with his piercing stare as he contemplates. What did he want to do? Was he about to fold already? Fuck this Omega? He wasn’t sure. Steve examines Bucky’s eyes, which are trained on him and had this desperate gaze of please, spare me in them. Steve just…keeps looking at him.

Hmm…what to do.