I'd rather be happy than dignified

You were on your knees, scooping a pile of earth over the seeds you’d just planted, quite literally elbows deep in work, when you got a whiff of him.

It stopped you right in your place, hands freezing mid-motion. Your gaze snapped up instantly, all senses suddenly on highest alert, body strung, your inner omega shuddering on an instinct as old as time.

An alpha.

Woods caressed by fresh wind after summer rain, leather and pine, dipped in a musky scent that had your breath catch.

An alpha.

An alpha at the edge of your property, nothing but you and him and your house and a lonely road and woods around for miles. The outline of him, a tall figure with shoulders insanely broad compared to his narrow waist, thighs visibly thick even from the distance, all that spoke of exactly how much chance anyone, let alone an omega, would stand against him.

He was brimming with explosive power and yet. Yet, it was not out of fear you straightened to your full height immediately; for you weren’t just any omega.

You were an omega with a good friend in a beta doctor in town who was not hesitant to hand out suppressants for an omega who could otherwise be in danger at her isolated property, should a stray alpha come knocking at her door.

You were an omega whose mother taught her how to handle a shotgun and a rifle before the age of ten, because the world wasn’t always the kindest to those of your designation.

And first and foremost, you were an omega who knew with every fibre of her being that seeing the shadow of this alpha among the trees, a familiar outline by now, never posed any threat to you. It did not, even as he would sometimes argue about it in a hushed voice, the reminder he meant so strikingly painful every time he left.

You were his omega. Even as you weren’t.

The first time he skimmed around the edge of your property, it had been two days since you had crossed paths at the hardware store in town. His scent had your body going haywire, plummeting you towards the closest thing to a real heat you had in years, all that on a single whiff and a wordless exchange with his startled blue gaze piercing your very soul.

Two days of questioning your body and mind as you could not think straight, deep rooted instincts guiding you to build a nest, barely moving outside of it, almost 48 hours of burning skin and scorching need nothing seemed to sate. Two days until you managed to eat at least a few bites and have a small walk in order to water the plants in your garden despite the tremble in your limbs and incessant ache between your legs and the echo of a deeper ache within your ribcage.

You realized who he was to you the second your inner omega had gone mad.

You realized who he was to the world the second you saw him standing in the shadows of the pine trees, the outline of a man who could only be real in a world where superheroes existed.

You made your decision at the former realisation and solidified it at the latter, sensing his hesitation to approach almost as strong as your pull towards him and his to your home, his feet moving as if of their own accord.

You left the door open that day, stepping in to make tea and coffee and to serve cookies of all things, blindly driven to take care of your alpha, to please him, to make a home; your breath caught, your trembling heart pounding the moment he actually walked in.

You never got to eat or drink, even as you tried to be polite, both of you, to think it through. To fight the natural designation breaking through your suppressants and scent masking with ease, because where modern medicine might be able to fool an omega’s body and alpha’s and beta’s sense of smell, it was useless in face of the precious phenomenon of fated mates.

He was yours. You were his.

There was no fighting it – not completely. Neither of you had the willpower to stay underwater when the air you needed to breathe was at your fingertips, your scent all over your house enticing him, his seeping into it in perfect harmony, like puzzle pieces falling into place.

Before you knew it you were standing inches apart, his nose trailing along your wrist with a groan, your mind hazy, body vibrating in anticipation, voice breathless even as you breathed quick and shallow in order to remain composed and at least a tad rational. Exchanging names was the least you could do and the most you managed before you could not hold back any longer.

You knew who he was; he knew you knew. You knew his situation, or enough of it, the star he had been carrying on his chest faded and torn away, his golden boy persona and looks long gone.

It didn’t make a goddamn difference.

If anything, the ragged bearded man who stood but two inches from you was the embodiment of an alpha and everything about him had your inmost carnal instincts and soul-deep longing scream mine.

My Steve. My alpha.

The kiss he pressed to your wrist was tender, the chirp escaping you nearing a whimper, knees wobbling under the overwhelming sensation rushing through your body. He caught you with arm firmly wrapped around you and a kiss that was all teeth and desperate need and laying a claim and you reciprocated with fervour, inhaling his intoxicating scent and the rest were days to remember spent in a haze and pleasure you had never known to exist before.

And pain. Sharp and dull at once, its echo resonating in your ribcage even now as you shed the gardening gloves and went to wash your hands, starting the kettle and laying out ingredients for a warm homecooked meal Steve – former Captain America turned fugitive from the law of several countries – deserved and got to eat scarcely.

Sometimes, you didn’t make it past a hello, his hands on you wishing to recreate the imprints they had left weeks if not months ago, exploring you anew, nose against your neck, teeth scraping over the most sensitive part of your throat to induce pleasure so intense you forgot how to make a sound or think.

Other times, you held each other first and inhaled softly, allowing yourselves to reacquaint with someone who was fated to belong with you, who was yours with every fibre of their being, the cracks in your ribcages mended at last, body, soul and home rebuilt.

Today, it seemed, was the case of the former.

You were ruminating through the cabinets, trying to figure out what to cook, when Steve’s arms circled you from behind and pulled you to his front, nose instantly at your collar, breathing in deeply with a satisfied rumble in his chest that had your omega shivering with delight. Heat rushed all over your skin as you inhaled deeply, hands covering his, body melting in his hold already as you felt familiar burn at the apex of your thighs respond to his presence like clockwork.

“Alpha…” you whispered, shuddering when he hummed behind you, arms squeezing tighter, mouth pressing to the side of your neck, lingering, a quick lap of tongue over your skin making him groan; and you clutch at his forearms, legs turning weaker as your blood rushed elsewhere.

It was torture; torture of the bittersweetest kind, a tease of a promise never delivered on and never as much as made. It twisted your stomach in knots, the ache of his absence, the agonizing absence of a bonding mark already flaring through you and chasing tears into your eyes, deep-bone agony you knew would come again, because you had been here before. Every single time.

Every single time he came, after weeks, months apart, gloomy and deprived, to forget the rough world he somehow still believed deserved saving even after they had called him a criminal for choosing his best friend, for choosing his own morals instead of being a good little soldier; days of utter bliss and intangible happiness that would slip through your fingers again and again, because it was not safe to stay. Not for him. Not for you.

Bonding would be worse. You heard enough horror stories to know them to be true; that mates, true mates in particular, could not spent more than weeks apart, slowly withering without each other and dying of grief. They said parting was like a piercing one’s heart with needles; and losing your mate to death then was like severing all limbs one by one and then reaching into your chest with an iron fist and ripping your heart straight out.

It was better this way. That was what you told yourself when screaming and weeping into your pillows wrapped in the shirt he would always leave behind, soaked in his scent to sooth your pain, like a band-aid over a gunshot wound still oozing blood.

You knew he felt the same. You knew that when he left when you were awake, he was a wreck no one would never recognize as the once nation’s most beloved hero.

But every time, every time he came back, you knew. You knew that the bliss, the happiness you could steal away for just a few moments, was worth it all. Because being with Steve did not just satisfy your inner omega, didn’t quench the fire that was already creeping through your veins when all your senses were drowned in him; it was the contentment that settled every fear and met every longing your heart ever felt, softness and delight threading through your very being.

The same overwhelming emotion that chased your tears away now, for when he was here, there was no space for mourning him leaving in a few hours or days.

Your sunk into his body, saying his name like a plea and a prayer, feeling his smile over the scrape of his beard, a devious little thing against your collarbone, one of his hands sliding lower, spreading over your thigh, hips rutting against you to make you feel exactly how much your runaway soldier had missed you too. His lips began to wander and so did his hands, stilling and squeezing hard when you tried to turn and face him to taste his mouth.

“’mega… smell so sweet…”

You whimpered, thighs clenching when he returned to the ministrations over the sensitive skin of your throat, your head falling back to his shoulder to give him space, hand sinking into his locks to keep him there, slick already gathering in your underwear and threatening to soak through your panties and sweats alike. His hand slipped under your shirt, sneaking past your bra until his fingers found your hardened nipple and pinched it lightly.

“Steve—oh my god-“

Your clutched at his hair when he nipped at your mating gland, still playing with your hardened nub, gush of arousal leaking down your thighs, your other hand gripping the counter as your legs threatened to give out completely. And yet, somehow your hips had a mind of their own, pressing against the hard bulge of his crotch.

“Sweet, sweet ‘mega… you have no idea what you scent does to me, I swear… wake up hard every fucking morning I’m not with you.”

“I dream of you-“ you echoed his desire softly, a confession so intimate it would be dangerous with any other.

But Steve… his breath hitched, a firm yet gentle grip of your jaw and throat appearing so fast your head spun, face angled so he could claim your mouth and trap you against the counter all the same, his groan swallowing your whimper, fingers digging into the muscle of his forearm, his gripping your hip, lips locked in a searing kiss that had your toes curl, all tongue and teeth – and shockingly slow and indulgent, licking the taste of longing from each other’s mouth.

Deprived of oxygen for too long, you had to part after what felt like an eternity passing in a blink of an eye, too fleeting.

For a moment you stilled, lips still laid over his, unwilling to separate further than a hair’s distance.

“I missed you so much, honey… so fucking much,” he rasped and the profound pain was like a drag of a rusty nail against your skin, chasing the burn of tears to the base of your nose; because yes.

Yes, Steve suffered too, every time he walked away, each time harder than the one before.

He feared, too, he had once admitted; in a post-orgasmic haze and tender pillow talk where you had both opened your hearts raw.

About how scared you were that one day, he wouldn’t come back; because he’d get killed trying to atone for the sins of having his own moral compass and falling out with the law; because he’d realize this wasn’t living, that the pain wasn’t worth it.

About how scared he was that one day, he’d find your door closed or shut to his face, because less than the half-relationship and the rivers of tears he caused you were a beast of a burden you did not want to bear anymore; that he did not deserve your love when all he did was to disturb your peace.

But neither of you had had a choice in this, in fate or natural laws or whichever having ruled over you, making you belong together.

And you still chose each other.

You used the momentary weakness in his grip to turn in his hold, palms riding up his chest slow, over his sternum, heart vigorously beating under your palm, until you could cradle his face, gorgeous features distorted by ache and vulnerability he so rarely revealed. Deeply sad blues observed you like you were a goddess he had no right to pray to; gaze holding onto you like you were the last shred of sanity in the insane world.

And when you whispered you loved him, he gripped you tight and kissed you like you were the only home he’d ever known.

“Take me to bed, love,” you whispered against his mouth, hands sneaking under his hoodie and t-shirt to feel and roam the wide planes of muscle, the heat of his skin and the taste of his mouth, the press of the hard ridges of his body giving you a high you wouldn’t exchange for anything.

You rocked your hips against his when he didn’t make a single move towards the bed, a needy sound pushing past your lips when he rippled his mouth away and trailed lower, strong hands gripping the fabric of your shirt and ripping, buttons clinking all over the floor. Your bra went next, offending to the path his mouth took, sensitive skin all but tickled by his beard when he took your nipple to his mouth, teeth grazing, hands grabbing your hips bucking impatiently despite the onslaught of pleasure.

“Steve— Steve, please-“

He chuckled against your breasts, mumbling about impatient little omegas and you would have been offended had it not had your core clench, just how easily he torn the sweats down to your ankles, tearing your soaked panties away. Your fingers had tangled into his hair god knew when, holding on for dear life when he hoisted you up on the counter, sliding your sweats off of one of your ankles just so he could push your legs apart and make space for his wide shoulders.

“Alpha—aaah-!”

There was no warning. No teasing. He slanted his mouth over your opening without preamble, the burn of his beard on your tender flesh causing you to yelp, the sound bleeding into a pathetic whimper when his tongue pushed deep inside you, lapping at your core with vigour. Your head tipped backwards, knocking against the cupboard and you didn’t give a shit, your hips already pushing against him, the tension in your core skyrocketing at Steve’s appreciative growl.

You might have pulled at his hair too hard too. You weren’t sure. You didn’t care.

“That’s it, ‘mega, give it to me…”

You did. The weeks apart, endless days of longing and withholding had the fire licking at your insides exploded at once with a broken shout of ‘alpha!’, violent tremble shaking your body, your grip falling slack as he didn’t relent, a half-sob pushing past your lips when he sucked on your oversensitive clit and pushed you over the threshold for the second time, having you gush all over his face, thumb pressing against your thighs where you tried to close them.

Your wanted to tell him to stop, to say that it was too much, but you couldn’t remember how words worked, tongue heavy, head spinning from the pleasure pulsing through your every nerve ending. He chuckled against the apex of your thighs when he finally did relent, nipping on the slick skin of your inner thighs, gathering your juices on his tongue as if it was the most exquisite liquor.

Your jerked in his hold when he sucked what would be a spectacular bruise, only then letting you off the hook, mouth travelling back up over your overwrought body, giving you a taste of yourself when he kissed you and licked into your mouth the same way he did into your centre.

His jeans were straining when he gathered your trembling form in his arms, laying you on the bed with unfair tenderness, shedding his hoodie and t-shirt before sheeting your body with the length of his own, the warmth radiating off his skin and the scent of arousal, both you and his, oozing off of him, willing your shaking hands to make a quick if clumsy work of his belt and the button of his jeans.

You didn’t bother pushing his jeans and boxers beyond what you needed to hold him in your hand, the familiar weight spiking your arousal anew, his growl at your soft ministrations and thumb gathering the beads of precum all but music to your ears.

“Be good, ‘mega… don’t tease your--- alpha,” he said, not nearly as firmly as he’d wish, voice cracking at a little twist of your hand, having him grip your wrist in warning.

Your gaze snapped to his, so dark with desire there was but a circle of your beloved blue left, and you couldn’t but smile a little, flattered despite having countless prior proves of his desire for you.

“I’m always good for my alpha,” you whispered, accentuating your point by gently squeezing him, his hips buckling into your touch involuntarily, eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah. Yes, you are.”

That was the last coherent words either of you uttered as he pushed your hand away and aligned himself with your entrance, coating himself in your slick before sliding in easily despite his more than impressive size, the resounding groan of satisfaction filling your cabin before the wet sounds of skin slapping skin replaced it, generous praise spilling from his lips when they weren’t too busy stealing air from your lungs or mouthing at your throat.

He took you slowly and he took you hard, making you feel every inch, tilting your hips to his liking and you let him, holding onto his shoulders, nose buried in his neck when his rhythm faltered and sped up only to slow down again, dragging his length all the way out only to push in again, fingers sneaking between your bodies to where you were connected, fingertips dipping in your slick before circling your clit, your hips buckling up as a shockwave of pleasure had your back arch.

When his mouth latched onto your throat, sucking at the thin skin over your mating gland, you were done for, crying out his name in ecstasy and anticipation that lit up your body with life and delight.

Instincts took over, blinding you for a moment.

But he was in control.

As impossible as you knew it was, only managing to do so very few times yourself, Steve had you, in the worst way possible, quick to offer his chest so your teeth sunk to the skin just above his collarbone, his groan as much pleasure as pain as his hips stuttered and his mouth latched onto your shoulder instead, teeth sinking in with bliss and emptiness at once.

You were still riding out your orgasm when the ache in your ribcage flared up anew, empty grief of a failed bonding ripping away the sweetest haze there could be, bliss bleeding into misery as your voice hoarse from shouting Steve’s name and designation torn up in a sob before you could stifle it for both of your sakes.

The sound Steve made at that, smothered by your skin, was nothing short of a whimper – and you hated yourself. God, you hated yourself because you knew all to well this wasn’t helping, not to you, certainly not to him and you swallowed the begging already pushing to your tongue for him to bond you, Alpha, please, please make me yours--

It was instinct ruling over reason, a pipe dream painted in the fog of peak pleasure you rationally knew was not possible, not now, if ever.

So instead of begging, you gripped Steve tighter, nails digging into his back and biceps, whispering an apology that got drowned in his ‘sorries’ and ‘I love you’s’. You were still catching your breath when you kissed his skin where you had left your mark, a patch of skin already littered by faded imprints of your teeth, not unlike the one you carried yourself.

They never fully healed.

Unlike the half-moons of your nails where you grabbed him too tight, unlike the bruises Steve sometimes left when losing control and needing you closer, unlike the first time he had sunk his teeth into his forearm to stop himself from bonding you, these bites never healed. They left scars. Brands, even. You supposed it was biology; nature’s way of saying that no matter whether a bonding mark or not, a true mate’s bite was a brand to carry with pride.

And proud you were, the little marks a cherished memory when Steve was too far for you to remember he loved you even if he hadn’t made you his or become truly yours.

You stayed in each other embrace for long minutes if not hours, to feel connected, to sooth the grief of the being robbed of the precious gift you had been given but couldn’t enjoy.

Steve cleaned you up with tenderness that ached in your bones and had you swallow the tears before they could come, soft words you managed to reciprocate even if your tongue left like made of lead. You munched on cookies he found in the pantry, the terrible store-bought ones, and drank the tea having long turned cold even as the weight on a full mug in your hands was too much. You fell asleep as soon as Steve wrapped you in his arms and pulled you to his front, nose in your hair, your hand gripping his to scent him in your sleep, and your last thought was that once you woke, you’d make him that homecooked meal you had set to prepare before you went and tore each other’s clothes off.

You weren’t sure what woke you up, mind groggy and every movement heavy, but the thin light of a crack of dawn teased your eyelids, the scent of sex – and Steve – tickling your nose and making you smile.

His fingers were lightly threading through your hair in periodic motions, fingertips caressing your temple and your cheek as your head was laid on his chest, he himself propped up with his back against the headboard.

Your smile at the simple affection quickly faded when you realized there was only one reason he could have woken you up.

He was leaving.

He sometimes sneaked away before you could be roused from your sleep, the parting easier and harder on both of you at once. Easier, because neither of you had to confront the emotion of the other or stifle your own; harder, because leaving you without a goodbye went against everything Steve wanted and stood for, leaving you vulnerable and like you were some dirty secret he’d fuck and abandon; harder, because waking up to his shirt instead of him and his warmth was like having your heart torn in two.

It was the anticipation of pain and grief combined with sleep-induced foolishness that had you plop your arm over his waist, nuzzling the warmth of his skin, lips barely moving yet speaking.

“Stay.”

You felt and heard his breath hitch above you, fingers stilling in their movement, before he was shifting under you and was pulling you up his lap to straddle him, mouth slanting over yours and having your heart skip a startled and more than pleased beat as you felt his hardness catch against your opening, still slick thanks to his presence alone.

Not leaving then. At least not yet.

Just-

“Need you, ‘mega… need to feel you need me,” he rasped, the words nothing new yet carrying a strange urgency that should have given you a pause but didn’t. Instead, it spurred you on.

Stealing a glance at him as you started to roll your hips, sliding over his length to coat him in your slick, his head fell back with lips parted and you wished you were more awake, wished you could capture the perfect image of him forever. Blissed out, mouth already red and kiss-swollen, eyelids shut, lashes casting shadows over his gorgeous face, sharp features softened by the beard, dark blond hair like a halo with the first sunrays peeking through the blinds.

He didn’t rush you, hands laid over your hips, caressing your soft flesh with indulgence, eyes fluttering open to watch you as you rose to your knees and slowly sunk down his length, a welcome intrusion despite the slight ache, a memento to just few hours prior.

His hand went to your nape then, pulling you in for a kiss, hesitant at first, until he felt you give in as easily as always, melting against him even as you never ceased the undulation of your hips, riding him slowly while he made love to your mouth, his other hand sprawled over your bare back.

“My beautiful omega… my fucking everything,” he husked, mouth trailing down your neck, pressing a desperately tender kiss over your mating gland, lingering, sighing and gently stilling your hips with both of his hands, forehead falling on your shoulder.

Emotion you could not quite put your finger on rolled off of him in waves, making you choke up, a heavy sensation settling in your stomach. You didn’t push, hand settling on his head, fingers gently massaging his scalp, fighting hard not to tremble as you remained connected, tethering on the brink of reaching for pleasure.

Haze lifted, your mind began racing, your omega shivering and shifting in discomfort as she could not read her alpha beyond him being distraught.

And suddenly, you were cold too. The temperature in the room wasn’t any lower, you were sure, but you shuddered, your free hand balling into a fist, a terrible fear rippling through.

No.

God, no, no no no.

Don’t let this be it, don’t let him to-

“I got a call… multiple calls, made a few myself,” he said, swallowing loudly and your fingers twitched as impossible tightness squeezed your ribcage, the icy fear growing in your chest, cursing at your exhaustion that had let you sleep through all that. “It was about Ross.”

Your jaw clenched on instinct.

You knew very little about Senator Thadeus Ross. You knew he was a political figure, he was a dick and he was the leading man in the hunt for the rogue Captain America and his band of misfits as he liked to paint it.

Getting a call about him could only mean a terrible thing.

And yet, when Steve sighed, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, head rising to meet your gaze, there was a spark in his eyes you had never seen before. It was a stark contrast to the apprehension written in his features and you could feel the anxiety in your gut ease minutely.

Biting your tongue, you observed Steve without blurting out the WHAT? that clawed at your throat.  

“He’s out of the picture, retired, possibly forced to retire… he’s been replaced, silently, they only now released a statement to the press,” Steve spoke slowly, carefully measuring every word. “Senator Wilkins, his replacement, he’s… he’s already managed to get things moving within the week of being in the office. And…”

Steve watched you draw in a deep breath, the smallest bloom of hope springing in your heart even when you tried your damnest not to let grow, but couldn’t quite manage, because-

“-he’s got the American government to grant us all a pardon.”

You choked on an incredulous laugh, hand flying to your mouth at the absurd sound and then you realized that you did not give a damn about whether your reaction was appropriate – if there even was an appropriate reaction when something seemed to explode in your chest and chased tears into your eyes, your heart hammering against your sternum three hundred times a minute, blood rushing past your temples, your head spinning, vision turning blurry with tears.

“Are you--- are you saying-“

Steve’s warm palms framed your face softly, forehead touching yours with gentleness incarnate that only had you crying harder, your gaze swimming but not blinding you to the fact that his eyes were glassy too.

“Yeah… I’m--- if you--- I’m yours,” he choked out, a broken chuckle tickling your lips before he brushed them with his own, voice falling into a whisper you were sure you had to dream up, because it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t— he couldn’t-- fuck, you needed to breathe, but he- “If you’ll have me, if you let me, if you still want me, if-“

You grabbed his face unceremoniously and stole whatever stupid sentence he was about to follow up with with your mouth, chest pressing to his so there wasn’t an inch left between you, claiming his mouth and swallowing his sound of surprise, stupid, stupid surprise-- as if you could ever say no to that, as if you hadn’t been yearning in pure agony for him to utter those words for over two years now.

Breaking the kiss for a breath, Steve did not waste a second and pressed his lips over sensitive skin of your throat, lapping at your neck, the sensation lighting your whole body with life and bliss, a promise never made and never delivered on, drawing a sound from your mouth that was a lovechild of a whimper and a laugh and a sob, his fingers digging into your flesh at it.

“Please, honey…. ‘mega,… be mine--- I’m yours, let me be yours…”

Voice breaking at the last word, you understood; you finally understood the apprehension you had seen. His heart-wrenching plea was dripping with hope, uncertainty and hopelessness. He was genuinely unsure you’d say yes.

For all the time he could not make promises, for Steve Rogers did not speak promises he wasn’t sure he could keep, he suddenly doubted if his promise was enough.

His tongue licked at the skin over your mating gland almost shyly, a reverent kiss, inhaling your scent deeply, the ministrations alone having your hips to begin to move again of their own accord, fuelled all the more with the carnal need to reassure your alpha that he was your fucking everything and you were never letting him go ever again.

“Yes, Steve—I’m yours too, I want you to be mine-“

A growl rippled from his throat, teeth grazing your gland and whitening out your vision for a moment with mind-shattering bliss, never breaking skin but so, so so so so close, drawing a frustrated whine from your mouth, your hips buckling at the tease of your peak – and of everything you ever wanted.

He tore his mouth from your neck, wild gaze meeting yours, the look in his eyes – utter adoration and desperate desire – your true undoing.

Balancing at the edge of a cliff, a half-step from falling into ecstasy, you were so high and dizzying you thought you must have imagined him saying it.

But you did not.

“Bond me, ‘mega— you first, please-“

Your breath caught in your throat, hazy mind coming to a screeching halt.

Bond me first, he said.

Take me. Love me. Wreck me. Was what he was truly saying.

It was a vow of its own, the most profound and binding one to exist.

Bond me first. Let me be the first one to be consumed by a bond so strong it would tear me apart if I ever left you again. Bond me first; even if it’s the only bond we seal tonight. Let it be me. Let me carry the weight. I long for it. I crave it.

And you didn’t hesitate. Not with climax on the tip of your fingers and tongue alike, already tasting the delicious thin skin sheathing his mating gland.

Not after years of pain and tears and yearning.

Your teeth broke the skin, Steve’s guttural groan of all-consuming pleasure and the stutter of his hips triggering your peak, wave of bliss washing over you as you sobbed into his throat, the scent of copper sweet where it blended into him; into the scent you so desperately wished to drown in for months and months to no end.

You felt him fill you the moment his teeth sank into your flesh in return, whiting out your vision with the slightest tinge of pain and blinding ecstasy, your shout stiffened in his neck as it felt as if someone reached deep inside you and set you aflame, core spasming with another peak that had you seize in Steve’s arms.

In your alpha’s arms.

Yours, yours, yours.

You shook against him as you both rode the waves of pleasure as carnal as tender, delighted laughter and relief shaking your ribcage even as no sound came out, tears streaming down your face and his alike.

You breathed against the fervorous beats of your heart and all you could sense was him.

His affection seeping thought every cell of your body, his longing, his guilt, his violent delight piercing his very bones. He trembled against you all the same, hot tears soaking the hair on your nape, his whispers of ‘thank you’ and ‘mega breaking your heart and making you sob and laugh at once.

His unsteady hands shifted, grasping your nape and jaw and pulling you away just so he could cradle your face and see you, his heavy-lidded eyes shining even as his pupils nearly swallowed the gorgeous blue you dreamed of every night. Your lower lip trembled with the undiluted adoration in his gaze as if you weren’t an utter mess soaking not only down your thighs and his, but in sweat from exertion and overwhelm too.

You had never felt more beautiful.

Never felt more cherished.

“My omega… my beautiful, perfect omega… mine,” he murmured, lips already chasing yours before you could respond, your husky whisper of ‘my alpha’ swallowed by his demanding mouth.

It was long, long moments before you both settled enough to clean up, only to cover each other in your scents again, caring little for rolling around in sheets that were nothing short of filthy with your love; marvelling in it instead.

And in the late hours of the morning, you fell asleep once more; Steve’s large body sheeting yours from behind, lips still attached to your freshly formed bond, pulsing with content, something within you moved and transformed forever.

You felt his serene heartbeat against your back, inside you, all over you, and clutched his hand to your chest even as you suspected he could feel and hear your heart anyway.

You held him like he held you, relaxed but firm, for you were never, ever again, letting go.

S.R. masterlist  // Complete masterlist 

Title and entire fic inspired by Sen by Lucie, lyrics loosely translated below.

Thank you so much for reading! I wanted to wait but I was so excited to have finished the story early and to have been in the flow after what felt like forever 🥹 If you enjoyed, I'd be delighted to hear your thoughts 💕

I hope July has been kind to you and so will August 🥺💕

And of course, many thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for not only hosting this challenge, but also for being such a positive presence in the fandom 🥰 hope you'll have a blast on your birthday 😍

-lyrics follow for those who are interested-

The shadows of the days and dreams are turning over and towards the hands of a dark dream that are trying to cover your eyes. Your light reveals how I know that it will come back with the new day.

The clouds are rolling the wind breaking them in halves. The shadows on your soul disperse in the gloom – like waves they leave after hours and the moon scares new shadows away.

Kaleidoscopes of butterflies carry away fears stardust is falling on fluttering leaves flaring through fire and disappear far away. Soundless steps in the celestial rhythm swing and sing to us that soon in the morning the fears get swept away.

The shadows of the days will grow old and disappear. All celestial signs are lit up by our stars that know all, and from the distance they lead us on our paths and the moon scares new shadows away.

Kaleidoscopes of butterflies carry away fears stardust is falling on fluttering leaves flaring through fire and disappear far away. Soundless steps in the celestial rhythm swing and sing to us that soon in the morning the fears get swept away.

You were on your knees, scooping a pile of earth over the seeds you’d just planted, quite literally elbows deep in work, when you got a whiff of him.

It stopped you right in your place, hands freezing mid-motion. Your gaze snapped up instantly, all senses suddenly on highest alert, body strung, your inner omega shuddering on an instinct as old as time.

An alpha.

Woods caressed by fresh wind after summer rain, leather and pine, dipped in a musky scent that had your breath catch.

An alpha.

An alpha at the edge of your property, nothing but you and him and your house and a lonely road and woods around for miles. The outline of him, a tall figure with shoulders insanely broad compared to his narrow waist, thighs visibly thick even from the distance, all that spoke of exactly how much chance anyone, let alone an omega, would stand against him.

He was brimming with explosive power and yet. Yet, it was not out of fear you straightened to your full height immediately; for you weren’t just any omega.

You were an omega with a good friend in a beta doctor in town who was not hesitant to hand out suppressants for an omega who could otherwise be in danger at her isolated property, should a stray alpha come knocking at her door.

You were an omega whose mother taught her how to handle a shotgun and a rifle before the age of ten, because the world wasn’t always the kindest to those of your designation.

And first and foremost, you were an omega who knew with every fibre of her being that seeing the shadow of this alpha among the trees, a familiar outline by now, never posed any threat to you. It did not, even as he would sometimes argue about it in a hushed voice, the reminder he meant so strikingly painful every time he left.

You were his omega. Even as you weren’t.

The first time he skimmed around the edge of your property, it had been two days since you had crossed paths at the hardware store in town. His scent had your body going haywire, plummeting you towards the closest thing to a real heat you had in years, all that on a single whiff and a wordless exchange with his startled blue gaze piercing your very soul.

Two days of questioning your body and mind as you could not think straight, deep rooted instincts guiding you to build a nest, barely moving outside of it, almost 48 hours of burning skin and scorching need nothing seemed to sate. Two days until you managed to eat at least a few bites and have a small walk in order to water the plants in your garden despite the tremble in your limbs and incessant ache between your legs and the echo of a deeper ache within your ribcage.

You realized who he was to you the second your inner omega had gone mad.

You realized who he was to the world the second you saw him standing in the shadows of the pine trees, the outline of a man who could only be real in a world where superheroes existed.

You made your decision at the former realisation and solidified it at the latter, sensing his hesitation to approach almost as strong as your pull towards him and his to your home, his feet moving as if of their own accord.

You left the door open that day, stepping in to make tea and coffee and to serve cookies of all things, blindly driven to take care of your alpha, to please him, to make a home; your breath caught, your trembling heart pounding the moment he actually walked in.

You never got to eat or drink, even as you tried to be polite, both of you, to think it through. To fight the natural designation breaking through your suppressants and scent masking with ease, because where modern medicine might be able to fool an omega’s body and alpha’s and beta’s sense of smell, it was useless in face of the precious phenomenon of fated mates.

He was yours. You were his.

There was no fighting it – not completely. Neither of you had the willpower to stay underwater when the air you needed to breathe was at your fingertips, your scent all over your house enticing him, his seeping into it in perfect harmony, like puzzle pieces falling into place.

Before you knew it you were standing inches apart, his nose trailing along your wrist with a groan, your mind hazy, body vibrating in anticipation, voice breathless even as you breathed quick and shallow in order to remain composed and at least a tad rational. Exchanging names was the least you could do and the most you managed before you could not hold back any longer.

You knew who he was; he knew you knew. You knew his situation, or enough of it, the star he had been carrying on his chest faded and torn away, his golden boy persona and looks long gone.

It didn’t make a goddamn difference.

If anything, the ragged bearded man who stood but two inches from you was the embodiment of an alpha and everything about him had your inmost carnal instincts and soul-deep longing scream mine.

My Steve. My alpha.

The kiss he pressed to your wrist was tender, the chirp escaping you nearing a whimper, knees wobbling under the overwhelming sensation rushing through your body. He caught you with arm firmly wrapped around you and a kiss that was all teeth and desperate need and laying a claim and you reciprocated with fervour, inhaling his intoxicating scent and the rest were days to remember spent in a haze and pleasure you had never known to exist before.

And pain. Sharp and dull at once, its echo resonating in your ribcage even now as you shed the gardening gloves and went to wash your hands, starting the kettle and laying out ingredients for a warm homecooked meal Steve – former Captain America turned fugitive from the law of several countries – deserved and got to eat scarcely.

Sometimes, you didn’t make it past a hello, his hands on you wishing to recreate the imprints they had left weeks if not months ago, exploring you anew, nose against your neck, teeth scraping over the most sensitive part of your throat to induce pleasure so intense you forgot how to make a sound or think.

Other times, you held each other first and inhaled softly, allowing yourselves to reacquaint with someone who was fated to belong with you, who was yours with every fibre of their being, the cracks in your ribcages mended at last, body, soul and home rebuilt.

Today, it seemed, was the case of the former.

You were ruminating through the cabinets, trying to figure out what to cook, when Steve’s arms circled you from behind and pulled you to his front, nose instantly at your collar, breathing in deeply with a satisfied rumble in his chest that had your omega shivering with delight. Heat rushed all over your skin as you inhaled deeply, hands covering his, body melting in his hold already as you felt familiar burn at the apex of your thighs respond to his presence like clockwork.

“Alpha…” you whispered, shuddering when he hummed behind you, arms squeezing tighter, mouth pressing to the side of your neck, lingering, a quick lap of tongue over your skin making him groan; and you clutch at his forearms, legs turning weaker as your blood rushed elsewhere.

It was torture; torture of the bittersweetest kind, a tease of a promise never delivered on and never as much as made. It twisted your stomach in knots, the ache of his absence, the agonizing absence of a bonding mark already flaring through you and chasing tears into your eyes, deep-bone agony you knew would come again, because you had been here before. Every single time.

Every single time he came, after weeks, months apart, gloomy and deprived, to forget the rough world he somehow still believed deserved saving even after they had called him a criminal for choosing his best friend, for choosing his own morals instead of being a good little soldier; days of utter bliss and intangible happiness that would slip through your fingers again and again, because it was not safe to stay. Not for him. Not for you.

Bonding would be worse. You heard enough horror stories to know them to be true; that mates, true mates in particular, could not spent more than weeks apart, slowly withering without each other and dying of grief. They said parting was like a piercing one’s heart with needles; and losing your mate to death then was like severing all limbs one by one and then reaching into your chest with an iron fist and ripping your heart straight out.

It was better this way. That was what you told yourself when screaming and weeping into your pillows wrapped in the shirt he would always leave behind, soaked in his scent to sooth your pain, like a band-aid over a gunshot wound still oozing blood.

You knew he felt the same. You knew that when he left when you were awake, he was a wreck no one would never recognize as the once nation’s most beloved hero.

But every time, every time he came back, you knew. You knew that the bliss, the happiness you could steal away for just a few moments, was worth it all. Because being with Steve did not just satisfy your inner omega, didn’t quench the fire that was already creeping through your veins when all your senses were drowned in him; it was the contentment that settled every fear and met every longing your heart ever felt, softness and delight threading through your very being.

The same overwhelming emotion that chased your tears away now, for when he was here, there was no space for mourning him leaving in a few hours or days.

Your sunk into his body, saying his name like a plea and a prayer, feeling his smile over the scrape of his beard, a devious little thing against your collarbone, one of his hands sliding lower, spreading over your thigh, hips rutting against you to make you feel exactly how much your runaway soldier had missed you too. His lips began to wander and so did his hands, stilling and squeezing hard when you tried to turn and face him to taste his mouth.

“’mega… smell so sweet…”

You whimpered, thighs clenching when he returned to the ministrations over the sensitive skin of your throat, your head falling back to his shoulder to give him space, hand sinking into his locks to keep him there, slick already gathering in your underwear and threatening to soak through your panties and sweats alike. His hand slipped under your shirt, sneaking past your bra until his fingers found your hardened nipple and pinched it lightly.

“Steve—oh my god-“

Your clutched at his hair when he nipped at your mating gland, still playing with your hardened nub, gush of arousal leaking down your thighs, your other hand gripping the counter as your legs threatened to give out completely. And yet, somehow your hips had a mind of their own, pressing against the hard bulge of his crotch.

“Sweet, sweet ‘mega… you have no idea what you scent does to me, I swear… wake up hard every fucking morning I’m not with you.”

“I dream of you-“ you echoed his desire softly, a confession so intimate it would be dangerous with any other.

But Steve… his breath hitched, a firm yet gentle grip of your jaw and throat appearing so fast your head spun, face angled so he could claim your mouth and trap you against the counter all the same, his groan swallowing your whimper, fingers digging into the muscle of his forearm, his gripping your hip, lips locked in a searing kiss that had your toes curl, all tongue and teeth – and shockingly slow and indulgent, licking the taste of longing from each other’s mouth.

Deprived of oxygen for too long, you had to part after what felt like an eternity passing in a blink of an eye, too fleeting.

For a moment you stilled, lips still laid over his, unwilling to separate further than a hair’s distance.

“I missed you so much, honey… so fucking much,” he rasped and the profound pain was like a drag of a rusty nail against your skin, chasing the burn of tears to the base of your nose; because yes.

Yes, Steve suffered too, every time he walked away, each time harder than the one before.

He feared, too, he had once admitted; in a post-orgasmic haze and tender pillow talk where you had both opened your hearts raw.

About how scared you were that one day, he wouldn’t come back; because he’d get killed trying to atone for the sins of having his own moral compass and falling out with the law; because he’d realize this wasn’t living, that the pain wasn’t worth it.

About how scared he was that one day, he’d find your door closed or shut to his face, because less than the half-relationship and the rivers of tears he caused you were a beast of a burden you did not want to bear anymore; that he did not deserve your love when all he did was to disturb your peace.

But neither of you had had a choice in this, in fate or natural laws or whichever having ruled over you, making you belong together.

And you still chose each other.

You used the momentary weakness in his grip to turn in his hold, palms riding up his chest slow, over his sternum, heart vigorously beating under your palm, until you could cradle his face, gorgeous features distorted by ache and vulnerability he so rarely revealed. Deeply sad blues observed you like you were a goddess he had no right to pray to; gaze holding onto you like you were the last shred of sanity in the insane world.

And when you whispered you loved him, he gripped you tight and kissed you like you were the only home he’d ever known.

“Take me to bed, love,” you whispered against his mouth, hands sneaking under his hoodie and t-shirt to feel and roam the wide planes of muscle, the heat of his skin and the taste of his mouth, the press of the hard ridges of his body giving you a high you wouldn’t exchange for anything.

You rocked your hips against his when he didn’t make a single move towards the bed, a needy sound pushing past your lips when he rippled his mouth away and trailed lower, strong hands gripping the fabric of your shirt and ripping, buttons clinking all over the floor. Your bra went next, offending to the path his mouth took, sensitive skin all but tickled by his beard when he took your nipple to his mouth, teeth grazing, hands grabbing your hips bucking impatiently despite the onslaught of pleasure.

“Steve— Steve, please-“

He chuckled against your breasts, mumbling about impatient little omegas and you would have been offended had it not had your core clench, just how easily he torn the sweats down to your ankles, tearing your soaked panties away. Your fingers had tangled into his hair god knew when, holding on for dear life when he hoisted you up on the counter, sliding your sweats off of one of your ankles just so he could push your legs apart and make space for his wide shoulders.

“Alpha—aaah-!”

There was no warning. No teasing. He slanted his mouth over your opening without preamble, the burn of his beard on your tender flesh causing you to yelp, the sound bleeding into a pathetic whimper when his tongue pushed deep inside you, lapping at your core with vigour. Your head tipped backwards, knocking against the cupboard and you didn’t give a shit, your hips already pushing against him, the tension in your core skyrocketing at Steve’s appreciative growl.

You might have pulled at his hair too hard too. You weren’t sure. You didn’t care.

“That’s it, ‘mega, give it to me…”

You did. The weeks apart, endless days of longing and withholding had the fire licking at your insides exploded at once with a broken shout of ‘alpha!’, violent tremble shaking your body, your grip falling slack as he didn’t relent, a half-sob pushing past your lips when he sucked on your oversensitive clit and pushed you over the threshold for the second time, having you gush all over his face, thumb pressing against your thighs where you tried to close them.

Your wanted to tell him to stop, to say that it was too much, but you couldn’t remember how words worked, tongue heavy, head spinning from the pleasure pulsing through your every nerve ending. He chuckled against the apex of your thighs when he finally did relent, nipping on the slick skin of your inner thighs, gathering your juices on his tongue as if it was the most exquisite liquor.

Your jerked in his hold when he sucked what would be a spectacular bruise, only then letting you off the hook, mouth travelling back up over your overwrought body, giving you a taste of yourself when he kissed you and licked into your mouth the same way he did into your centre.

His jeans were straining when he gathered your trembling form in his arms, laying you on the bed with unfair tenderness, shedding his hoodie and t-shirt before sheeting your body with the length of his own, the warmth radiating off his skin and the scent of arousal, both you and his, oozing off of him, willing your shaking hands to make a quick if clumsy work of his belt and the button of his jeans.

You didn’t bother pushing his jeans and boxers beyond what you needed to hold him in your hand, the familiar weight spiking your arousal anew, his growl at your soft ministrations and thumb gathering the beads of precum all but music to your ears.

“Be good, ‘mega… don’t tease your--- alpha,” he said, not nearly as firmly as he’d wish, voice cracking at a little twist of your hand, having him grip your wrist in warning.

Your gaze snapped to his, so dark with desire there was but a circle of your beloved blue left, and you couldn’t but smile a little, flattered despite having countless prior proves of his desire for you.

“I’m always good for my alpha,” you whispered, accentuating your point by gently squeezing him, his hips buckling into your touch involuntarily, eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah. Yes, you are.”

That was the last coherent words either of you uttered as he pushed your hand away and aligned himself with your entrance, coating himself in your slick before sliding in easily despite his more than impressive size, the resounding groan of satisfaction filling your cabin before the wet sounds of skin slapping skin replaced it, generous praise spilling from his lips when they weren’t too busy stealing air from your lungs or mouthing at your throat.

He took you slowly and he took you hard, making you feel every inch, tilting your hips to his liking and you let him, holding onto his shoulders, nose buried in his neck when his rhythm faltered and sped up only to slow down again, dragging his length all the way out only to push in again, fingers sneaking between your bodies to where you were connected, fingertips dipping in your slick before circling your clit, your hips buckling up as a shockwave of pleasure had your back arch.

When his mouth latched onto your throat, sucking at the thin skin over your mating gland, you were done for, crying out his name in ecstasy and anticipation that lit up your body with life and delight.

Instincts took over, blinding you for a moment.

But he was in control.

As impossible as you knew it was, only managing to do so very few times yourself, Steve had you, in the worst way possible, quick to offer his chest so your teeth sunk to the skin just above his collarbone, his groan as much pleasure as pain as his hips stuttered and his mouth latched onto your shoulder instead, teeth sinking in with bliss and emptiness at once.

You were still riding out your orgasm when the ache in your ribcage flared up anew, empty grief of a failed bonding ripping away the sweetest haze there could be, bliss bleeding into misery as your voice hoarse from shouting Steve’s name and designation torn up in a sob before you could stifle it for both of your sakes.

The sound Steve made at that, smothered by your skin, was nothing short of a whimper – and you hated yourself. God, you hated yourself because you knew all to well this wasn’t helping, not to you, certainly not to him and you swallowed the begging already pushing to your tongue for him to bond you, Alpha, please, please make me yours--

It was instinct ruling over reason, a pipe dream painted in the fog of peak pleasure you rationally knew was not possible, not now, if ever.

So instead of begging, you gripped Steve tighter, nails digging into his back and biceps, whispering an apology that got drowned in his ‘sorries’ and ‘I love you’s’. You were still catching your breath when you kissed his skin where you had left your mark, a patch of skin already littered by faded imprints of your teeth, not unlike the one you carried yourself.

They never fully healed.

Unlike the half-moons of your nails where you grabbed him too tight, unlike the bruises Steve sometimes left when losing control and needing you closer, unlike the first time he had sunk his teeth into his forearm to stop himself from bonding you, these bites never healed. They left scars. Brands, even. You supposed it was biology; nature’s way of saying that no matter whether a bonding mark or not, a true mate’s bite was a brand to carry with pride.

And proud you were, the little marks a cherished memory when Steve was too far for you to remember he loved you even if he hadn’t made you his or become truly yours.

You stayed in each other embrace for long minutes if not hours, to feel connected, to sooth the grief of the being robbed of the precious gift you had been given but couldn’t enjoy.

Steve cleaned you up with tenderness that ached in your bones and had you swallow the tears before they could come, soft words you managed to reciprocate even if your tongue left like made of lead. You munched on cookies he found in the pantry, the terrible store-bought ones, and drank the tea having long turned cold even as the weight on a full mug in your hands was too much. You fell asleep as soon as Steve wrapped you in his arms and pulled you to his front, nose in your hair, your hand gripping his to scent him in your sleep, and your last thought was that once you woke, you’d make him that homecooked meal you had set to prepare before you went and tore each other’s clothes off.

You weren’t sure what woke you up, mind groggy and every movement heavy, but the thin light of a crack of dawn teased your eyelids, the scent of sex – and Steve – tickling your nose and making you smile.

His fingers were lightly threading through your hair in periodic motions, fingertips caressing your temple and your cheek as your head was laid on his chest, he himself propped up with his back against the headboard.

Your smile at the simple affection quickly faded when you realized there was only one reason he could have woken you up.

He was leaving.

He sometimes sneaked away before you could be roused from your sleep, the parting easier and harder on both of you at once. Easier, because neither of you had to confront the emotion of the other or stifle your own; harder, because leaving you without a goodbye went against everything Steve wanted and stood for, leaving you vulnerable and like you were some dirty secret he’d fuck and abandon; harder, because waking up to his shirt instead of him and his warmth was like having your heart torn in two.

It was the anticipation of pain and grief combined with sleep-induced foolishness that had you plop your arm over his waist, nuzzling the warmth of his skin, lips barely moving yet speaking.

“Stay.”

You felt and heard his breath hitch above you, fingers stilling in their movement, before he was shifting under you and was pulling you up his lap to straddle him, mouth slanting over yours and having your heart skip a startled and more than pleased beat as you felt his hardness catch against your opening, still slick thanks to his presence alone.

Not leaving then. At least not yet.

Just-

“Need you, ‘mega… need to feel you need me,” he rasped, the words nothing new yet carrying a strange urgency that should have given you a pause but didn’t. Instead, it spurred you on.

Stealing a glance at him as you started to roll your hips, sliding over his length to coat him in your slick, his head fell back with lips parted and you wished you were more awake, wished you could capture the perfect image of him forever. Blissed out, mouth already red and kiss-swollen, eyelids shut, lashes casting shadows over his gorgeous face, sharp features softened by the beard, dark blond hair like a halo with the first sunrays peeking through the blinds.

He didn’t rush you, hands laid over your hips, caressing your soft flesh with indulgence, eyes fluttering open to watch you as you rose to your knees and slowly sunk down his length, a welcome intrusion despite the slight ache, a memento to just few hours prior.

His hand went to your nape then, pulling you in for a kiss, hesitant at first, until he felt you give in as easily as always, melting against him even as you never ceased the undulation of your hips, riding him slowly while he made love to your mouth, his other hand sprawled over your bare back.

“My beautiful omega… my fucking everything,” he husked, mouth trailing down your neck, pressing a desperately tender kiss over your mating gland, lingering, sighing and gently stilling your hips with both of his hands, forehead falling on your shoulder.

Emotion you could not quite put your finger on rolled off of him in waves, making you choke up, a heavy sensation settling in your stomach. You didn’t push, hand settling on his head, fingers gently massaging his scalp, fighting hard not to tremble as you remained connected, tethering on the brink of reaching for pleasure.

Haze lifted, your mind began racing, your omega shivering and shifting in discomfort as she could not read her alpha beyond him being distraught.

And suddenly, you were cold too. The temperature in the room wasn’t any lower, you were sure, but you shuddered, your free hand balling into a fist, a terrible fear rippling through.

No.

God, no, no no no.

Don’t let this be it, don’t let him to-

“I got a call… multiple calls, made a few myself,” he said, swallowing loudly and your fingers twitched as impossible tightness squeezed your ribcage, the icy fear growing in your chest, cursing at your exhaustion that had let you sleep through all that. “It was about Ross.”

Your jaw clenched on instinct.

You knew very little about Senator Thadeus Ross. You knew he was a political figure, he was a dick and he was the leading man in the hunt for the rogue Captain America and his band of misfits as he liked to paint it.

Getting a call about him could only mean a terrible thing.

And yet, when Steve sighed, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, head rising to meet your gaze, there was a spark in his eyes you had never seen before. It was a stark contrast to the apprehension written in his features and you could feel the anxiety in your gut ease minutely.

Biting your tongue, you observed Steve without blurting out the WHAT? that clawed at your throat.  

“He’s out of the picture, retired, possibly forced to retire… he’s been replaced, silently, they only now released a statement to the press,” Steve spoke slowly, carefully measuring every word. “Senator Wilkins, his replacement, he’s… he’s already managed to get things moving within the week of being in the office. And…”

Steve watched you draw in a deep breath, the smallest bloom of hope springing in your heart even when you tried your damnest not to let grow, but couldn’t quite manage, because-

“-he’s got the American government to grant us all a pardon.”

You choked on an incredulous laugh, hand flying to your mouth at the absurd sound and then you realized that you did not give a damn about whether your reaction was appropriate – if there even was an appropriate reaction when something seemed to explode in your chest and chased tears into your eyes, your heart hammering against your sternum three hundred times a minute, blood rushing past your temples, your head spinning, vision turning blurry with tears.

“Are you--- are you saying-“

Steve’s warm palms framed your face softly, forehead touching yours with gentleness incarnate that only had you crying harder, your gaze swimming but not blinding you to the fact that his eyes were glassy too.

“Yeah… I’m--- if you--- I’m yours,” he choked out, a broken chuckle tickling your lips before he brushed them with his own, voice falling into a whisper you were sure you had to dream up, because it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t— he couldn’t-- fuck, you needed to breathe, but he- “If you’ll have me, if you let me, if you still want me, if-“

You grabbed his face unceremoniously and stole whatever stupid sentence he was about to follow up with with your mouth, chest pressing to his so there wasn’t an inch left between you, claiming his mouth and swallowing his sound of surprise, stupid, stupid surprise-- as if you could ever say no to that, as if you hadn’t been yearning in pure agony for him to utter those words for over two years now.

Breaking the kiss for a breath, Steve did not waste a second and pressed his lips over sensitive skin of your throat, lapping at your neck, the sensation lighting your whole body with life and bliss, a promise never made and never delivered on, drawing a sound from your mouth that was a lovechild of a whimper and a laugh and a sob, his fingers digging into your flesh at it.

“Please, honey…. ‘mega,… be mine--- I’m yours, let me be yours…”

Voice breaking at the last word, you understood; you finally understood the apprehension you had seen. His heart-wrenching plea was dripping with hope, uncertainty and hopelessness. He was genuinely unsure you’d say yes.

For all the time he could not make promises, for Steve Rogers did not speak promises he wasn’t sure he could keep, he suddenly doubted if his promise was enough.

His tongue licked at the skin over your mating gland almost shyly, a reverent kiss, inhaling your scent deeply, the ministrations alone having your hips to begin to move again of their own accord, fuelled all the more with the carnal need to reassure your alpha that he was your fucking everything and you were never letting him go ever again.

“Yes, Steve—I’m yours too, I want you to be mine-“

A growl rippled from his throat, teeth grazing your gland and whitening out your vision for a moment with mind-shattering bliss, never breaking skin but so, so so so so close, drawing a frustrated whine from your mouth, your hips buckling at the tease of your peak – and of everything you ever wanted.

He tore his mouth from your neck, wild gaze meeting yours, the look in his eyes – utter adoration and desperate desire – your true undoing.

Balancing at the edge of a cliff, a half-step from falling into ecstasy, you were so high and dizzying you thought you must have imagined him saying it.

But you did not.

“Bond me, ‘mega— you first, please-“

Your breath caught in your throat, hazy mind coming to a screeching halt.

Bond me first, he said.

Take me. Love me. Wreck me. Was what he was truly saying.

It was a vow of its own, the most profound and binding one to exist.

Bond me first. Let me be the first one to be consumed by a bond so strong it would tear me apart if I ever left you again. Bond me first; even if it’s the only bond we seal tonight. Let it be me. Let me carry the weight. I long for it. I crave it.

And you didn’t hesitate. Not with climax on the tip of your fingers and tongue alike, already tasting the delicious thin skin sheathing his mating gland.

Not after years of pain and tears and yearning.

Your teeth broke the skin, Steve’s guttural groan of all-consuming pleasure and the stutter of his hips triggering your peak, wave of bliss washing over you as you sobbed into his throat, the scent of copper sweet where it blended into him; into the scent you so desperately wished to drown in for months and months to no end.

You felt him fill you the moment his teeth sank into your flesh in return, whiting out your vision with the slightest tinge of pain and blinding ecstasy, your shout stiffened in his neck as it felt as if someone reached deep inside you and set you aflame, core spasming with another peak that had you seize in Steve’s arms.

In your alpha’s arms.

Yours, yours, yours.

You shook against him as you both rode the waves of pleasure as carnal as tender, delighted laughter and relief shaking your ribcage even as no sound came out, tears streaming down your face and his alike.

You breathed against the fervorous beats of your heart and all you could sense was him.

His affection seeping thought every cell of your body, his longing, his guilt, his violent delight piercing his very bones. He trembled against you all the same, hot tears soaking the hair on your nape, his whispers of ‘thank you’ and ‘mega breaking your heart and making you sob and laugh at once.

His unsteady hands shifted, grasping your nape and jaw and pulling you away just so he could cradle your face and see you, his heavy-lidded eyes shining even as his pupils nearly swallowed the gorgeous blue you dreamed of every night. Your lower lip trembled with the undiluted adoration in his gaze as if you weren’t an utter mess soaking not only down your thighs and his, but in sweat from exertion and overwhelm too.

You had never felt more beautiful.

Never felt more cherished.

“My omega… my beautiful, perfect omega… mine,” he murmured, lips already chasing yours before you could respond, your husky whisper of ‘my alpha’ swallowed by his demanding mouth.

It was long, long moments before you both settled enough to clean up, only to cover each other in your scents again, caring little for rolling around in sheets that were nothing short of filthy with your love; marvelling in it instead.

And in the late hours of the morning, you fell asleep once more; Steve’s large body sheeting yours from behind, lips still attached to your freshly formed bond, pulsing with content, something within you moved and transformed forever.

You felt his serene heartbeat against your back, inside you, all over you, and clutched his hand to your chest even as you suspected he could feel and hear your heart anyway.

You held him like he held you, relaxed but firm, for you were never, ever again, letting go.

S.R. masterlist  // Complete masterlist 

Title and entire fic inspired by Sen by Lucie, lyrics loosely translated below.

Thank you so much for reading! I wanted to wait but I was so excited to have finished the story early and to have been in the flow after what felt like forever 🥹 If you enjoyed, I'd be delighted to hear your thoughts 💕

I hope July has been kind to you and so will August 🥺💕

And of course, many thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for not only hosting this challenge, but also for being such a positive presence in the fandom 🥰 hope you'll have a blast on your birthday 😍

-lyrics follow for those who are interested-

The shadows of the days and dreams are turning over and towards the hands of a dark dream that are trying to cover your eyes. Your light reveals how I know that it will come back with the new day.

The clouds are rolling the wind breaking them in halves. The shadows on your soul disperse in the gloom – like waves they leave after hours and the moon scares new shadows away.

Kaleidoscopes of butterflies carry away fears stardust is falling on fluttering leaves flaring through fire and disappear far away. Soundless steps in the celestial rhythm swing and sing to us that soon in the morning the fears get swept away.

The shadows of the days will grow old and disappear. All celestial signs are lit up by our stars that know all, and from the distance they lead us on our paths and the moon scares new shadows away.

Kaleidoscopes of butterflies carry away fears stardust is falling on fluttering leaves flaring through fire and disappear far away. Soundless steps in the celestial rhythm swing and sing to us that soon in the morning the fears get swept away.