Work Text:
Steve wakes to a blank expanse of speckled white tile. His vision swims for all of a second before he registers that he is unable to move. He’s face down, cushioned support at his chest and knees and forearms. Implacable bonds hold his wrists and upper thighs and ankles, a thick collar at his neck that prevents him from pulling his head up. His legs are spread wide, not a stitch on him, something round and rubbery stuffed in his mouth. He tries to speak but all that emerges is a muffled sound.
His heart leaps to his throat as he struggles, pulse pounding at his temples. They’d brought him in days ago, kicking and cursing until a heavyset Beta in blue scrubs had pinched him right across the back of his neck so he went limp in their hands long enough to be hauled away. There was no place in the world for an unbonded, stray Omega. He’d lost that battle as soon as they’d pulled him beyond the gates of the detention center; grey concrete walls and an antiseptic smell in the air.
There’s a shuffle of movement behind him in the room that makes Steve freeze in place, heart pounding. He factors in his surroundings and the way he’s strapped down, realization sweeping through him.
“Susan, do you mind?” the director’s bored voice intones from somewhere behind Steve, loud in the small room. There’s the sound of paper rustling, a clipboard being set down on a table. A nurse walks past, then the director’s familiar brown shoes after her, a rush of air entering the room as the door swings open and shut. Unfamiliar voices in the corridor. The distant, echoey sound of the center beyond. Steve’s heart is at his throat, pounding at his temples. He’d been discounted from the start. Too thin, too delicate, unsuitable breeding stock . They’d let him attempt an escape only once before locking him in his room around the clock, close supervision any time he was let out. What unlucky dog’s gonna claim this one, huh?
“This one’s a bit of a handful,” the director’s voice fills the room as the door swings back open. Steve barely has time to suss out the number of people entering, two, maybe three, before the scent of Alpha assaults his senses. It’s sudden and overpowering, rich and musky and possibly the closest Steve’s been to scenting one in a year. He bites down hard on the gag, swallowing down the panic clawing up his throat, renewing the futile struggle against his bonds.
“I can see that,” the new Alpha voice says, wry and slightly amused.
There’s the sound of metal against plastic. A chair squeaks as someone sits. Steve attempts to control his breathing, frozen up like a deer in headlights, wracked with awareness all over again at his positioning, the open splay of his legs, his naked backside facing his audience, the sway of his cock and balls as he moves and struggles. He stills, breathing hard through his nose. Listens.
“Well, the documentation is the best we could find and it’s all yours. You’re free to take it out on a test drive,” the director says, chair squeaking as he speaks. There’s the clack of a keyboard, the director turning away, papers being shuffled.
The Alpha huffs out a soft laugh. Then he’s stepping near, the smell of him drawing closer. Every muscle in Steve’s body draws up tight, hands going into fists. A pair of black combat boots step into view. Black jeans that have seen better days. A hand reaches out; big and callused, long fingers with blunt tips. A working Alpha. The scent of him is so thick Steve’s head swims a little. The urge to draw near that outreached hand overwhelms him in a sudden flush, even as his stomach twists sickeningly. The Alpha’s hand settles on the back of Steve’s head. Steve jerks away with every fiber of his body, as far as the bonds will allow him, which isn’t much at all.
“Tiny thing, isn’t he?” the Alpha asks, musingly, voice so near Steve’s ear as he cranes down his breath ghosts against the side of Steve’s face. The director makes a noncommittal sound. Squeak, squeak.
“At the rate you’re getting it, it’s a steal. Let’s just say if you break it you don’t gotta buy it with this one. One time offer.”
The Alpha laughs again. Then he’s leaning down to peer at Steve’s face.
“Hey there,” he says softly. Steve keeps his gaze resolutely ahead, refusing to look. He feels ready to hurl against the gag in his mouth if his stomach wasn’t already empty, sickened with helpless fury and the sinking inevitability of what is about to occur. The Alpha pets at Steve’s hair for a second before his booted foot is tapping at something - a lever - and the entire bench is jutting up from the ground. It happens too fast for Steve to get a word out. The Alpha grips him by the jaw, coming fully into view, and unclasps the buckle at the back of Steve’s head. His hold on Steve’s jaw goes painfully tight, forcing a gasp of breath out as the gag is removed and Steve gets a good look at the Alpha’s face. Dark brown hair, a sweep of thick lashes, strong jaw, a wide plush mouth. Then he’s leaning down and fingers are sliding into Steve’s mouth, curling his lip up to check his teeth, feeling along his upper and bottom gums. He jerks in the Alpha’s hold but it’s useless between the collar around his neck and the Alpha’s impossibly strong fingers. The Alpha’s grip disappears as suddenly as it descended. The gag swings back into sight.
“You fucking - ” Steve spits out before the Alpha shoves it back in and buckles it at the back.
“Got a mouth on him,” he says, dryly. He smiles down at Steve and his boot taps down again, lowering the bench. Steve thinks bloody murder. Thinks of breaking free and tearing the Alpha limb from limb. No, he’d start with that smug bastard at the back first. Fucking pull his heart out through his chest.
“Shh, easy now,” the Alpha says, and Steve must have made a sound because he’s breathing hard, furious little exhales. The Alpha’s hand rubs soothingly at the nape of Steve’s neck, then squeezes down, and it’s like he knows, of course he does, he squeezes tight right on the glands to either side of Steve’s neck and it’s like liquid gold, spilling down his spine and making his whole body melt. He goes slack against the bench with a weak, muffled groan. There’s something. There was something…
“There you go. Easy,” the Alpha’s deep, melodic voice sounds as sweet as honey, low and rich, pulling at a point low in Steve’s gut.
“I’m Bucky,” the Alpha says, and he’s still digging his fingers in and really pressing, holding Steve down like an unruly pup. “There you go sweet thing. Just relax for me.”
Wave after wave, a chemical rush overwhelming Steve’s system. His head knocks forward heavily, resting against the padded cushioning. Once he’s breathing low and deep, brain flooded and sluggish, Bucky stops massaging at Steve’s neck and slides his hand down Steve’s back. He walks away sliding his hand down Steve’s body, rough against the soft skin of Steve’s side. Then he’s directly behind Steve, rubbing his hands up his thighs, palming one cheek easily with his big hand and molding it beneath his palm.
“You got a way with him,” the director’s admiring voice cuts in. It niggles at a part of Steve’s brain but his thoughts are as thick as molasses. He’s drifting. How long has it been? He doesn’t think he’s ever...not an Alpha, not how he’d pressed down right there, with his scent strong in Steve’s lungs -
Bucky snorts.
“Save the bull, Eric. You don’t gotta sell me on him long as he can take a knot.”
“All you ever need.”
“What else is there?” Bucky replies, dryly. There’s the sound of a zipper, a whisper of cloth, flesh on flesh. Bucky grips at Steve’s ass again, tight with his hand, his thumb sweeping at the tender skin. His scent is stronger than ever, intimate. Steve breathes it in deep. A muffled moan escapes him on the exhale, forehead rolling against the headrest. He wants Bucky touching him, those big Alpha hands propping him up, sliding up his skinny chest. Bucky’s gripping Steve’s ass with both hands, then sliding them down Steve’s skinny thighs and back up - he must be - the scent so strong Steve feels like it’s filling him, his thoughts scattered and his body all shivery and pleasant and something stirring inside.
“Yeah, look at that,” Bucky says. He slaps at Steve’s ass again and suddenly Steve can feel it with a shock through the haze. He’s wet at his hole, slick slipping at his entrance. There’s an ache up deep inside him, responding to Bucky’s scent and touch and the pleasant buzz from having his glands stimulated. His pulse picks up again, the worst of the daze beginning to slip away. He can hear Bucky, the sound of him jerking off, his scent strong and cloying in the closed room. He presses a broad thumb against Steve’s hole, rubbing at the wet and Steve flinches bodily in his restraints. Panic rises up again, heart lurching, breath puffing out desperately as he struggles to breathe through the pressure at his chest.
“Need to clamp it down again?”
“Nah, I got this,” Bucky says. Then his hand is gripping at Steve’s cheek and parting him and the blunt, wet pressure of his cock is at Steve’s hole. The last vestiges of Steve’s haze dissipate as he lurches in sudden shock against his restraints. He’s never been touched there, not by another person, certainly not an Alpha and this means - if he ties Steve -
Bucky’s pushing in, a thick, wide pressure plunging inside Steve, opening him up. His body responds despite himself, his hole getting slicker, clenching down eagerly, pleasure lighting up as he’s filled. It’s unbelievably thick, the pressure astonishing, more than the three or four fingers Steve’s managed to fit up there in his fits of desperations, those torturous heats spent sweating in bed and humping back against his hand.
“Yeah, there you go. Look at that hungry little cunt,” Bucky breathes out. The director snickers in the background. Steve moans, low and helpless. Bucky’s pushing in, in, in. He groans lowly as he bottoms out and Steve moans again in response. The gag is wet and dripping in his mouth, saliva drooling down his chin to his neck. Oh it feels so good. It feels so good, it’s so deep inside him and he needs this, he can barely breathe with it.
Then Bucky is sliding out and thrusting back in, shoving Steve the tiny inch of space he has in his restraints, the straps digging into the meat of his thighs and the delicate skin of his ankles and wrists.
“Alright, let's see if you can take it,” Bucky’s grunting out. His hands plant down on the bench to either side of Steve and he’s thrusting down, pounding his cock in and out of Steve’s hole. Pleasure overwhelms panic again and it’s all sensation, Steve’s hole getting slicker on every long, deep stroke.
“Come on, come on,” Bucky’s muttering with every thrust down. Steve’s making helpless sounds at every jolt of his body against the bench. His cock’s swelling and leaking, swaying helplessly between his legs. His knees feel sore and his wrists ache.
“Hear your wet little cunt, baby?” Bucky asks. His breath is hot against Steve’s neck, his cock an endless pounding presence. He can feel Bucky’s knot at the end of every thrust, swelling bigger and bigger. “Feels so fucking. Good. Yeah you little bitch. Come on, baby.”
Then Bucky’s biting down hard where his fingers were pressing before, right on the sensitive side of Steve’s neck and shoving his knot in one last time, jamming his hips against Steve’s ass as he knots him. Steve sobs out once, his face so hot he feels like he’s burning up, tears falling as he squeezes his eyes shut. The pressure’s astounding, Bucky’s knot pressing up on all the spots inside him his fingers could never fill and Steve’s crying out, eyes rolling up as his hole clenches down. His dick shoots and he comes; spilling to the floor below, moaning loud and endless behind his gag.
“Yeah. There you go,” Bucky’s saying. He’s kissing at the back of Steve’s neck, nuzzling at his shoulder. “Take that knot, sweet thing.” He ruts slowly against Steve, circling his hips so his knot keeps moving inside Steve, his thick cock so deep inside Steve can feel the hot, wet spray of it shooting off, breeding him. Every time Bucky moves it sets off another wave of hot, throbbing pleasure, Steve’s ass clutching down hard on the fat knot inside him. Bucky keeps kissing and hushing him until his cock stops jerking inside Steve. Then he’s sliding a hand down, pressing low on Steve’s navel with the broad palm of his hand. Bucky swivels his hips again.
“Fucking hell,” he breathes out. “I can feel my fucking dick inside him.”
There’s the sound of the chair squeaking again as the director moves back in their direction. Surveying them. Steve’s flushing hard suddenly with humiliation and shame, cutting through the haze of his pleasure. He jerks helplessly and only manages to set himself off again, his ass clamping down hard in waves on Bucky’s knot.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, man,” Bucky says, wonder in his voice. He presses even tighter with his hand on Steve’s navel and circles his hips, moving his knot inside Steve. “Tight fucking cunt. Keeps milking me, too.”
“What did I say?”
“Yeah, yeah. Let me see how long he can take it,” Bucky answers. He stills, finally, and the sound of them both breathing fills the tiny room, Steve shaking with every exhale. He goes boneless against the bench, exhaustion overtaking him. He’s heavy and full inside, feels like his belly’s swollen with Bucky’s come and there’s still more coming in spurts, his hole dripping wet down his thighs, his face a sticky mess.
“Alright. Come find me when you’re done. We’ll get the rest of the paperwork finished in the meanwhile.”
Steve flinches as the director passes by, cold air sweeping across his naked body.
“Shh. It’s alright,” Bucky says. He pets at Steve’s hair, rubs consolingly at the back of his neck. Then he rocks down against Steve gently, setting him whimpering through another round of aftershocks. It’s a relief when he stills again and Steve’s eyes can slip shut.
“Gonna take you home, sweet thing,” Bucky murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s shoulder.