Chapter Text
It was never easy for you, pretending to be something that you weren’t. But in your specific field of work, secondary gender was just a word on a document. Medicine and chemicals could take care of erasing whatever you were, and morphed you into what you needed to be.
There were drawbacks of course, like only having those closest to you knowing that you’re truly an omega, while all of your coworkers and work friends had no idea that you were anything other than a calm and collected, self-assured beta.
But being in the espionage workline, being a beta without heats or the appeal of a dominating alpha was an advantage that just couldn’t be looked over. Sometimes you wish that you weren’t as good at your job as you were because then you could be the omega who got cuddles and praise, got dotted on and knotted on a regular basis, but it wasn’t who you were.
Although omega rights had progressed immensely, there was always the glass ceiling, double layered for you, if not tripled because of your young age, female primary gender, and omega secondary gender. Being a beta at least erased the most important barrier in your way to being a successful agent at SHIELD.
Which is how you find yourself in god knows where exactly, in a safe house tucked away in the woods of some snowy country. Wounded nonetheless, with your heat coming on because your bag had been lost in a fight a few days ago, which means no suppressants and it’s too risky to expose yourself in the small town that you had passed yesterday to get some emergency heat stallers.
So you make do with what you can, you check the security of the safe house, and deeming it up to par, let yourself relax for the first time since the solo mission began two weeks ago.
The quite significant gash on your leg desperately needs to be taken care of, but with your heat approaching and your inner omega stirring, the idea of pain isn’t nearly as tolerable as it normally is. So instead you walk around the house that’s more of a cabin and pull all of the blankets off of the bed and cough when the dust flies off of them, clouding in the air. It’s not exactly nesting material, but it’s going to have to do for now. You get lost in your thoughts as you pull all of the extra bedding out of the storage closet. A few extra pillows and some blankets are packaged so they’re not covered in dust and your chest hums quietly in happiness.
God, I really wish I had passed this onto someone else. Maggie wasn’t doing anything this month, why hadn’t she been put on this assignment?
Your thoughts turn slightly sour as you put the nesting materials on the ground in the living room and kneel down and start arranging them in a small circle. You push the couch closer to the fireplace and then the chair cornered to it to give your nest the semblance of two solid sides.
Your leg throbs and you involuntarily let out a whimper as you stand up, the wound still slowly bleeding. You know you can’t put off stitching it up anymore and filled with dread, head shakily to the bathroom where a very detailed first aid kit will be located.
Sure enough there’s a suture kit and you grab it with shaky hands, not happy with what you’re about to do to yourself.
In the silence of the very empty cabin you shakily open the suture kit and pick out the smallest needle with the thread that’s going to hurt the least being tugged through your skin.
Just as you hold the needle with a shaking hand, your secure line cell phone rings and you startle, dropping the needle onto the towels spread out underneath you in the bathroom.
With trembling hands you pick it, not bothering to check the caller, there’s only a few people it could be anyways. What you weren’t expecting to hear was the deep baritone of a familiar alpha wash over you.
“Decided to go camping doll?” Bucky’s voice sinks into your bones although you’re hundreds of miles apart.
“Hilarious Barnes. I know that you guys used to do that crap back in the middle ages in some forests in Germany, but we’re a little beyond that now. I’ve got four solid walls around me, so take that.” You lean back against the wall, and let your head ‘thud’ as you close your eyes and pretend that he’s here with you.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you millennial. Pick on the old man. But seriously, how are you holding up? The computers telling me that you’re at a safe house? Where’d you lose the trail?”
You debate what to tell him, what the professional beta agent would say, or what your omega wants to beg for.
Before you can let your omega instincts compromise your classification, you talk into the phone, “I’m okay. Lost them about 20 miles west of the cabin. The snow should be covering my tracks so they’ll lose my direction soon if they haven’t already.” Your voice shakes a little and you reprimand yourself, you have an image to maintain and aren’t about to jeopardize your future because your heat addled brain is slowly taking over.
“You sure that you’re really okay?” The concern in his voice almost coaxes a whimper out of you because you certainly aren’t okay, and you want anything other than to be in the predicament you’re in.
You have to take a deep breath before you respond, “Yeah Buck. It’s just a little cold in here, I haven’t gotten a fire started yet. And before you ask, it’s a gas fireplace so they won’t have the opportunity to track my smoke signals you geezer.” You toss a bit of sass at him, hoping to throw off his well-placed concern.
“You just get funnier every time you open your mouth, sugar.”
His voice is so smooth and you can almost convince yourself that he’s talking to you out of the desire an alpha has for an omega rather than strictly a friendship. “I try. Can you patch me through to Coulson? I’ve got some arrangements to go over before I go-” stitch myself up and nest. Dear god I just want to curl up in my nest and sleep.
“Sure thing, but...you’d tell me if something was off right?”
So you hadn’t gotten rid of all of his worry then. You move on to plan B, instead of cute and playful you revert to your beta persona which is quickly slipping away as you talk to the alpha you have a crush on. You imagine his warm body and firm muscles as you spar together, his stormy blue eyes as he smiles at Steve, his scent as you all pile onto the couch for movie nights, his gentle touch as he carries you to bed when you fall asleep-
With a gasp that you poorly cover as a cough you falsely admit to him, “Yeah, you’d be the first person I’d tell.”
“Okay doll, I’ll see you in a few days then.”
He still sounds skeptical but does patch you over to your mission leader and you take a deep breath. It’s okay now, Coulson knows about your secondary gender, you can tell him how deep in shit you are and he’ll help you.
“Coulson here.”
The first real words out of your mouth are, “Please get me out of here.” You choke on a tiny sob at the relief of not having to hide your pain anymore. “Coulson please ! I’m going into heat and- and-,” You do start to cry then, “and they took my pack and I don’t have any suppressants and there aren’t any in the cabin and I can’t stop it. Oh god, Coulson please help me.”
“Okay, heat isn’t that big of a threat. It’ll be uncomfortable but we’ll get you out in just a few hours,” His calm demeanor helps your immediate fear to subside and your crying dies down to a few tears and whimpers, “how long has it been since your last heat? And is there anything else that I need to be aware of?”
You speak in between deep, wet breaths, “Y-yeah. Um...it’s been seven months. And I’ve got a cut on my leg, about seven inches long and two wide. It’s- it’s pretty bad Phil.”
You hear him swear under his breath and can easily imagine him pacing his office, “You’ve gone seven months without a heat? Regulation is ten weeks maximum! And your leg? How deep is it and how long has it been bleeding for?”
“I’m sorry” You whimper before you look down at your leg resting next to the stitches kit, “It’s deep, they had some-” you look up to the ceiling to get rid of the nausea that threatens to make you sick, “they had some nasty knives. I can’t see any muscle, but there’s a lot of blood. There’s so much blood.”
Your omega side wanted to curl up and go to sleep, cry, and be cuddled at the same instant, but only one of the desires is possible, so you break out into tears again.
As you cry you’re dimly aware of some noises on Coulson’s end of the line and hear him shouting at someone about privacy and confidentiality and he tells them to get out of his office. You hear a low growl that could only possibly come from someone really pissed off. Before you work yourself into hysterics over your leg and your heat, Coulson speaks to you again.
“Okay, listen up. We’ve got some agents coming to collect you. I need you to check in with me or one of the authorized personnel every half hour until they get there. Not negotiable agent.”
You find yourself nodding your head at the command, it’s much easier to follow commands when you’re feeling more like an omega than a beta.
Using a softer voice Coulson praises you, “You’re so brave. It’s going to be okay omega. You did such a good job for us. You’re going to check in with base and you’re going to patch yourself up and get comfortable until we can get to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.” You want to call him ‘alpha’ but you can’t, he isn’t the one you want. He isn’t either of the alphas you want.
You hang up after you confirm your plans again with Coulson and lean back against the bathroom wall. Your mind wanders to the two alphas you do want, and even though you can't have either of them, mostly because they’re bonded together against all social norms.
Steve has two different personas, his Captain personality, and his Steve personality. His Captain persona is domineering and everything your omega begs for in an alpha, but Steve is sweet too. You see it in the way he cares for Bucky when he’s had a rough day. You see Steve’s gentle smile as he picks up babies and visits hospitals. You see through what many people can’t, you manage to find the real Steve beneath layers of public appearances and alpha posturing. The real Steve you imagine would carry you bridal style everywhere you asked, would bring home roses on a Tuesday, and would make sweet love to you as he whispered sweet endearments into your neck while he ran his teeth over his bond mark.
Bucky is different than Steve in his own ways, but no less alluring and prime-alpha. Bucky has been to hell and back, and yet he still manages to be charming and easily give away his affection. Bucky has his rough days that haunt him, but you don’t believe that he could ever hurt anyone he cared about on purpose. Bucky is the perfect compliment to Steve’s gentle domineering touch, he has absolutely no problem with kissing Steve stupid in the middle of the common room or throwing his bond mate over his shoulder as he walks down the hall with the bedroom as a clear destination. Bucky keeps his emotions guarded around everyone except for a select few, of whom you were included, which makes your omega flare with pride at being accepted by your desired alpha.
You shake your head though. There were only two problems.
One, they’re bonded, and happily at that. While alpha duos have some of the highest breakage rates, they’ve managed to defy a lot more in their lives than some statistics.
Two, they both believe that you are definitely a beta. Without a doubt. For the sake of your work in the field, it’s easier that your teammates don’t worry about your well being while fighting, and it makes undercover work easier when the alphas on the team aren’t worried about your health and mental stability.
But reason defies you as your first cramps start to appear from your heat and you stare down at the needle and thread. You long for the alphas to hold you close and for them to patch you up, instead of making yourself do it while you’re already in so much pain.
But they aren’t coming, so you sterilize your leg and get to work, pretending that you aren’t an omega and that you’re an independent beta who doesn’t need reassurance to stitch herself up.
The needle hesitates over the edge of the wound before you place it right on your skin, the slight pin-prick already making you feel light headed and desperate for comfort. With a deep breath, you push the needle swiftly through the skin and gasp as it slides through and comes out the other side. You then push the needle under the skin on the other side of the wound until it comes out above your skin and on the opposite side of the wound.
You let out a deep sob as you knot off the first stitch and snip the end of the thread. Then, placing the needle slightly below the first completed stitch, you do it again.
Each stitch is more painful than the last and thirteen stitches later you’re gasping as tears flow steadily down your face as blood trails down your leg and onto the towels on the floor.
Your hand trembles so hard it takes you three tries to make yourself put in another stitch. At the prospect of still having to close more than half of your wound, you start to cry in earnest. You can’t bring yourself to push the needle through your skin again when your inner omega is practically screaming in distress. You’re able to smell more accurately now that your suppressants have worn off and the combined smell of you own hurt and fear, and the copper tang of blood floods your nose.
You lurch to the toilet, pulling tightly on your partially stitched wound, and promptly throw up your meager lunch that you had eaten earlier on the run.
After you take a few minutes to pull yourself together, you haul yourself off of the bathroom floor, leaving the bloody mess as it is.
On shaky legs you walk step by limping step towards the living room where your attempt at a nest is waiting. A fog settles over your mind and you’re slowly losing touch with your brain and body.
You manage to turn on the fireplace before you ungracefully fall to the ground and crawl into your nest. The blankets don’t smell comforting, but more like plastic and as unsettling as it is, you’re beginning to care less.
Your nest is pitiful and your tears return as your leg throbs. What starts out as small tremors throughout your body turn into full-body shudders within a few minutes. Your heat cramps swoop in with a vengeance, and all you want is the comfort of an alpha. Two, alphas, both of whom are not coming to save you and will never desire you the way your biology demands.
The thick cloud of fog envelopes you entirely and your body starts to shut down as the minutes tick by. You can vaguely hear your phone ringing but can’t remember why that would be important or who would be calling you so often. If they need something they should just leave a message and you’d call them back after you took a short nap.
Eventually you close your eyes and pull your nest in around you closer to try and get rid of the constant shaking, but if anything it only intensifies. That, combined with the cramps of a suppressed heat over due by several months has you disoriented and you can't think clearly.
Your crying has stopped and eventually the coldness in your bones drains away and everything starts to feel like a dull buzz. The only thing that signifies the passing of time is the vibration that your watch has every hour on the hour.
You desperately want to sleep, but there’s something nagging in the back of your brain that warns you not to. That sleeping right now is dangerous. That if you fall asleep, you might not wake up.
But despite your best efforts, your eyes finally shut and stay shut as the grey cloud turns black and unconsciousness washes over you.
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What ends up waking you up is the loud, incessant pounding in your head.
Sitting up in your nest and trying to shake off some of the fog, you slowly realize that the pounding isn’t just in your head, but is coming from the front door. In a split second you try to pull yourself out of the tangle of blankets that you’re surrounded in to reach for your gun, but you don’t have the strength to push the blankets off of you. And you don’t remember where your gun is. Or your knife.
But you still try valiantly to get yourself up and at least into the bathroom which has a locked door. Your heat addled, fuzzy brain supplies to you that it’s too soon for an extraction team, so whoever is at the door isn’t someone you want to be spending time with.
Just as you get your legs underneath you, several gunshots ring out and the door is kicked in. Suddenly there’s a trio of soldiers standing in the kitchen, guns raised and pointed at your prone figure. You quite literally tremble in fear.
You’re not stupid, you’ve pissed these guys off and you’re in the middle of an incredibly intense heat, and by the pungent smell coming off of all of them, they’re all alphas. In your state, there’s only one way this is going to end for you.
One of the men, the one that you had flirted with while trying to get information a couple of nights ago, rips his mask off and inhales. He closes his eyes and groans, low and deep. You imagine that he’s taking in your scent and the smell of your slick that is now coating your thighs. The thought of an unwanted alpha touching you brings a rancid smell to you scent.
You take a step towards the bathroom and suddenly one of the other alphas lunges towards you. He grabs your forearm and tugs you off balance so that you fall back into his chest. Panic makes your lungs seize as the realization of what they’re going to do to you sinks in. They’re all going to have their way with you and then they’re going to kill you. You start to cry, unable to do much else as your body responds to the prominent alpha scent, telling you to mate with this alpha, even though he’s not the one you want.
You feel like your body is betraying you as you feel another stream of slick slide down your inner thigh.
The alpha spins you in his arms and he growls, “Aww, look at you, trying to run from us. Now why are you doing that when you need us so badly?” The alpha trapping you has wild eyes that glint with danger and promise lots of pain.
You struggle against them and try to remember where your gun is.
“Don’t be like that, omega, in fact, I think that you should be on your knees for us,” with a voice of steel that you’re helpless against he commands, “Kneel”.
You drop like a stone, knees slamming hard, and pulling on your stitches.
You don’t want this.
You don’t want this.
The first alpha gets down on one knee and gently wipes your tears away, making you flinch away, and shushes you, cooing sickeningly, “That’s it omega. You just needed someone to listen to, don’t you? Someone to tell you what to do. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you. Make sure that you’re knotted just like you need.”
Your mouth tries to form words but he commands you again, “Silent”, so you stay quiet despite the scream that’s bubbling in your throat.
The other two alphas come over and stand around you, making sure that if by some miracle you could move, you wouldn’t be going anywhere.
“Kneel up,” his voice is rough and sharp and his breath reeks, nothing like what you imagine Bucky or Steve would be like.
You obediently follow his command and raise your body up, your leg starting to bleed again at the sudden movement. He kicks your knees apart with a heavy boot, and circles your body. Brandishing the knife that gave you your leg wound, he slices off your clothing, leaving you naked and vulnerable on the floor, helpless to stop any of them.
“Fuck, she’s looking pretty grey Gavin.”
Three pairs of eyes rake over your naked frame and you tremble in position. The haze is coming back and it’s making everything hard, even getting enough air into your lungs. Logically you know what’s happening, all omegas were given proper orientation training, even you: you’re in shock.
Between the sudden heat that’s several months overdue, the stress of the mission, the leg wound, and your petrifying fear, it’s not really a big surprise.
The alphas come to the same conclusion, but this doesn’t stop them. Instead the alpha, whose name is apparently Gavin, just smiles even larger. “Perfect, she won’t be able to do anything other than squeal when I’ve got her bouncing on my dick.”
The other two men look more skeptical than Gavin, one of them speaking up hesitantly, “We should take her back to the boss, if we don’t get her stable she’s gonna croak and we won’t get anything worthwhile from her.”
Gavin walks behind you and you can hear the telltale jingle of him undoing his belt. Bile rises in your throat and you can’t help but vomit on the rug.
The third alpha looks appropriately concerned as he adds in, “She’s really fuckin’ sick man. Let’s get her out of here.”
Gavin snaps at them as you hear him stomp around in his boots and shove his tactical pants down around his knees, “You don’t like it, then go stand outside. She’s got a couple of hours in her still, just enough time for us to have some fun, ain’t that right sweetheart?”
He turns your head, which rolls limply in his hands and places a disgusting kiss on the corner of your mouth.
Tears run freely down your cheeks.
The other two alphas grab their guns and trudge outside, leaving you in cruel hands.
You screw your eyes shut as you feel the alpha’s large erection rub up against you. You don’t get any indication that he’s going to smack you, but there’s a sudden bloom of pain across your ass, and then another. Another. The pain feels so wrong and filthy coming from him. You do your best to not cry, to not give him that satisfaction, but another hit wrings out a sob from your lips. You feel more than hear his laugh, his rough, clothed chest pressed up against your heat-fevered skin.
“It’s okay slut, your alpha’s gonna give you a nice, fat knot to make you feel better. I’ll take real good care of you.” With a grunt he situates his knees far apart, and consequently presses your legs open further since he’s kneeling between your own stance.
You feel his hot breath against your neck, your scent gland you belatedly realize. He’s going to put his mark on your neck. If you could fight back, you would, because there’s only two marks you will ever want on your skin, and this alpha’s bite is not one of them.
You feel his teeth graze your soft, sweaty skin and shudder, anticipating the sharp pain that will bind you to him.
And then he’s scrambling away from you, shoving you forward and you fall limply to the ground as bullets tear holes in the walls and there’s angry, dominating voices yelling at one another.
Then everything is silent and you feel two strong arms carefully pick you up from your sprawl on the rug in your own vomit. You smell alpha and weakly try to push them away, they’re different alphas, even more have come to hurt you.
But instead of hard, unyielding voices, you hear a soft, distressed rumble, and then you’re passed to the other alpha who also seems upset and angry, but, not at you. Then their scents make their way through the thick cloud that’s in your head and you can smell them. One smells like leather, sunshine, and morning newspapers, and the other smells like caramel, gun oil, and spice.
They’re here.
Steve and Bucky came for you.
A large, caring hand cradles your head and you struggle, but manage to open your eyes to see concerned grey eyes staring back at you.
“Oh thank god . It’s okay sweetheart, we’re here now. We’re gonna take care of you, get you out of here.” Bucky steps closer and leans in pressing his nose right up against your throat, and even while being in the midst of shock, you know that that’s something he shouldn’t be doing. But instead of him pulling away, you feel Steve duck his head down and nuzzle up against your neck too. You whimper, and it can’t be mistaken as anything other than an omega calling for her alphas in the midst of heat. It’s a weak whimper because doing anything is so hard, but it’s there and the arms around your body hold you tighter. They both growl, low and menacing when they can smell the other alphas on you but Steve abruptly pulls away, as if startled by his reaction, and then Bucky does too and they share a wide-eyed look.
You see the moment in their eyes when the pieces settle into place and they know. They know without a doubt that you’re an omega.
Bucky takes a step back and it feels like a piece of your heart shatters. He bends down and stands up with some of the blankets from your nest held in his hands. He looks angry, but he also looks hurt. “I thought that you were gonna tell me if things went sideways.” His voice is laced with disapproval and disappointment, and it cuts right through you.
Steve cuddles you to his chest as he growls, “Buck, not now!”, and you close your eyes and try not to cry. You’ve made your alpha, your not-alpha, mad.
The blanket that smells like plastic is draped over your naked body and it makes you whimper pathetically. You don’t want to smell anything other than Steve and Bucky.
But they don’t want you, and it makes you feel two inches tall.
Steve looks at your face, crumpled in rejection, and then looks at Bucky. They have one of their non-verbal conversations and Bucky breathes out deeply before running his hands gently over your head, and you nuzzle into his touch. They might not like the fact that you’re an omega, but you can’t help it. You’re in the throes of heat and even having them near you, their protectiveness and unfairly decadent scents are making you slip further under.
Bucky’s voice slides over you like a slow stream over rocks, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I just got so worried about you. They had...had their fuckin’ hands on you. I’m not mad at you sugar, not at all. Me ‘n Stevie are so happy that you’re safe with us. We’ve got you now.” he brushes your sweaty hair out of your eyes and when he thumbs away your tears, his stormy sea eyes look at you and you swear that you could happily drown in their depths.
Your words are slurred, but you need them to know, desperately need them to know that even though you’re an omega and in heat, you hadn’t wanted those other men. “I-I didn’ want’em. Tried ta push’em off...off ‘a me, but they...too strong. Jus’ want’d ‘em ta leave me ‘lone.” Thinking about how close you were to being bonded to that alpha makes your breath stutter and Steve looks down at you, his concern growing with every passing second as tears overflow from your eyes.
He gently starts rocking you in his arms, swaying back and forth as Bucky moves in closer too. Steve pulls you in closer to his warm body, which is nice because you’re starting to get really cold since the cabin door is wide open.
“Oh honey, we know. We know that you didn’t want ‘em. You’re our good girl. Didn’t do anything wrong at all. Me and Buck are here now and we’re gonna take good care of you. Nothing to worry about.”
Except there is something to worry about, because the fog is starting to take over again and you’re really too exhausted to warn them about your delirious state not being just heat-induced.
After several heartbeats and shallow breaths that aren’t bringing you enough oxygen, Steve brushes his nose over your throat again and you gasp because of how right it feels. You can’t have this, and they don’t want it, but for whatever reason, the universe has granted you this small thing and you grab onto it, clenching Steve’s uniform in tight hands, knuckles turning white with the need to not let go.
Bucky tucks the plastic smelling blanket around your frame in Steve’s arms and then his nose is also back against your neck on the opposite side from Steve and he doesn’t just rest it there, he gently drags his nose across the expanse of your throat and inhales deeply, letting out a deep groan that makes another wave of slick cover the apex of your thighs. Which in turn makes both of the alphas groan.
Bucky pulls back and gently taps your cheek, prompting you to open your eyes, and when had they even closed?
As he talks to you, you decide that his voice is so much better when he’s standing right next to you and that it’s too difficult to focus on his words. When his voice stops, you open your eyes, and when had they closed again? You try your best to focus on him and you feel Steve gently, and then more determinedly, shake you in his arms, and you want to tell him to knock it off because you’re exhausted, but your tongue is too heavy to speak and forming words seems too complicated.
“Come on doll, you’ve gotta keep those pretty eyes open for me, yeah? I need ya to look at me, okay?” You head lolls against Steve’s chest, you don’t mean for it to, it’s the goddamn shock that’s doing it, but you can’t warn them because your body is refusing to cooperate.
“Buck, does her skin look a little off, like its grey?”
The alphas look at your exposed skin and Bucky takes one of your hands and turns it over, inspecting your fingernails and palm.
“Shit, we’ve gotta get her back to the jet. Now.” There’s ill disguised fear in his voice as he rushes to get his words out, “She’s got maybe half an hour before she’s gonna need a hospital Steve.”
You hear Bucky moving around then feel more blankets being pulled around you. The warm house that smells like angry alpha and omega heat is left behind as the super soldiers take off at a sprint for the quinjet, your body jostled every step and your leg protesting the movement.
The trip isn’t overly far, but maybe that’s because you don’t manage to stay awake for nearly any of it.
You feel when Steve puts you down on a stretcher that Bucky has pulled out from under one of the floor panels. Then Steve’s warm, solid body is gone and you whimper at the loss. You desperately want your alpha back.
“Shhh, it’s alright babydoll, Stevie’s just gettin’ the medicine that we need to give you. It’s gonna help make you feel a little less woozy. Make you all better.”
You decide that if you’re going to die, here with both of the alphas near you, it isn’t a horrible way to go.
You barely hear Steve rummaging through the medical supplies but you do manage to catch his frantic shouting and then the other alpha leaves you, gently shushing you as he jumps up and starts to look through the med bags too.
“Not here-”
“What are we gonna-”
“Steve...if it’s not here-”
“I can’t do that Buck”
“Have to-”
“You do it!”
“-trusts you more”
“Call Coulson.”
That’s the last thing you hear before the blood in your veins turns icy cold and your hearing fades into a high-pitched buzz. The last of the tension in your body leaves and you lie limp on the stretcher. In an instant there’s a warm body standing on either side of you and Steve has a phone held up against his ear but you don’t know what they’re saying or why. His normally beautiful face goes pale and he hands the phone to Bucky, hands shaking. Steve crawls onto the stretcher with you, Bucky guiding him, and his warm weight on top of you makes you feel light. His blue eyes disappear from your line of sight and you can just barely feel his warm breath right above your scent gland on the side of your neck.
Bucky grabs onto your limp hand tightly and just as you lose consciousness you feel Steve’s teeth sink into your neck, a bright, sharp pain in a haze of grey dullness.
Underneath your alphas, your eyes roll into the back of your head and you lose all touch with reality.