Work Text:
She was going to blame it all on Steve’s pheromones. All of it. Seventy-odd years of repressed pheromones combined with four other omega males who, for various reasons, were not or could not be on heat suppression meds. She was sure that sometime in the far distant future, this would be a funny story to share around the metaphorical campfire.
But some days the universe just had no sense of proportion.
Her nose woke her up. Clint was a solid warm bulk beside her, close enough to know he was there, not quite wrapped around her because both of them knew better than to make the other feel trapped. Except today that warm bulk was moving ever-so-slightly, hips slowly rolling into the mattress, a distinctive, seductive scent coming off of him in waves.
Natasha opened her eyes to see Clint watching her, color pinking his cheeks as his heat began to rise.
“’Morning,” he said cheerfully.
“You’re early,” she said, breathing in deeply. She frowned slightly as she sat up, her eyes automatically going to the calendar on the wall. They kept track of these things; going into heat in the field was a bitch, and the antibiotics Clint had been taking to clear up the latest round of exotic something-or-other from his last mission pretty much rendered his suppression meds useless. He was still supposed to have two days left before his heat hit.
“You know me, eager beaver,” Clint said, and took a deep breath and stilled himself. “Towel?”
Natasha reached over to the stack on the nightstand and handed one to him, resisting the urge to touch just yet. “You’re never early,” she said pointedly.
“Uh… stress?” he said, stretching and sighing as tucked the soft cloth under him to catch the slick starting to slide down his thighs.
“Delays heat, doesn’t kick-start it.” Which you know very damn well, Natasha didn’t say. She didn’t like surprises, particularly not when heat was involved. She and Clint had lived their professional lives by being careful, in control, almost every minute of the day. And when biology and hormones could kick all your plans to the curb in an instant for a reproductive imperative that couldn’t be denied barring some rather extreme medicine, a little fucking warning was nice.
“It’s just… The right time, I guess.” Clint closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. “Sorry, Tasha.”
She felt a flash of irritation that was gone again in the next instant. Even if she hadn’t been an alpha, inclined to be indulgent towards omegas (she fought it reflexively, but it was still there even if she made herself ignore it), Clint was her closest friend. For him, she’d do anything; he’d earned that a thousand times over. She’d take care of him, and knew she could trust him to take care of her.
“Hey,” he said softly. “We get interrupted with an assembly, I’ll take the Lib-gon shot. No harm, no foul, ok?”
“That stuff’s dangerous,” she muttered darkly. Yanking an omega out of heat with drugs (some wag had nicknamed it Lib-gon, short for “libido-be-gone,” for which Natasha wanted to shoot someone) was a sure recipe to fuck up someone’s heats for months, but it would do the trick. For all that she hated it, they kept loaded syringes in their nightstand against the necessity. “And any moron attacking us today I’m going to kick his ass single-handedly.”
“That’s my alpha!” Clint said with a shit-eating grin.
“You’re pushing it, Clint,” she said.
“Actually, I was kinda hoping you’d do that…” he said, fluttering his eyelashes.
She mentally threw up her hands. Heat made Clint as snarky as Stark, and she could only deal with that by pounding him into the mattress.
“I’m going to get water. You good until I get back?”
“I’m just getting started. I’m good.”
She reached out and brushed her hand against his face, and he pushed up into her touch. And purred. Deliberately.
“Fuck you, Barton,” she said, not laughing. Certainly not desperately holding back a laugh. She was the Black Widow, she didn’t laugh.
He waggled his eyebrows at her and she groaned and slid out of bed before she could pounce on him. If she didn’t get water they were going to end up a sticky, dehydrated mess before the morning was out, and heat was bad enough without taking a few, simple precautions.
Except once she opened the door to their room, all her intentions for a quiet day or two of helping Clint through his heat were shattered.
Pheromones suddenly slammed into her with all the subtlety of the Hulk’s fist, digging deep into the part of her brain that housed the primitive, undeniable imperative to claim, to mark, to mate. The damn hallway had been full of them, so powerful they made her stagger. It floored her so long it took a noise from Clint to look behind her.
He made a high, broken keening noise and writhed almost mindlessly on the bed as the smell hit him, the scent of another desperately in-heat omega kicking his own heat into high gear. His eyes were dark as the lust hit him, color staining his skin as he flushed with arousal, and he frantically got all of his clothing off as his now too-sensitive skin began to sweat, releasing yet more pheromones into the air.
Natasha dug her nails into her palm almost hard enough to break skin, the pain giving her a moment to think. She inhaled again, steeling herself against the powerful seductive lure pulling at her from all angles, and considered the scents. There was the ozone-and-rain scent from Thor, the metallic-coconut scent that was uniquely Tony’s, the chemical-and-spices from Bruce’s room, Clint’s own gun-oil-and-rosin, but all of that was secondary under a very different and nearly overwhelming leather-and-charcoal.
“Cap,” Clint managed, miserable with lust but still, thank whoever was listening, thinking. “It’s Cap.”
Natasha swore in every language she knew how (which gave her a good few minutes) as she braced herself against the doorway. On either side of her were rooms containing her teammates. And her mates.
Each one of them omega men, the rarest gender on the planet, and she was on a team with four of them (and one Asgardian equivalent of the same). If the public had ever known, they would have been scratching their heads for years trying to figure out how omegas could be superheroes. To Natasha, it simply made sense. No one could be more fiercely protective than an omega in a crisis, and omega men had an extra dose of testosterone to back up that defending urge to the hilt. It made sense that Tony had made weapons to defend others, and now had made his own weapon and shield to do the defending himself. It made sense that Bruce had been trying to replicate a formula to help soldiers, and had accidentally created an alter-ego to defend himself and others. It made sense that Clint, with his marksman’s eye, his ability to strike down enemies at a distance to defend his friends on the ground, would be an omega. It made sense, once Thor had explained about the rather different expectations on Asgard, that the crown prince should be an omega.
It made too much sense that Dr. Erskine had selected an omega for the super-soldier program. He’d already seen what had happened when an alpha took the serum, thanks to the impatience of Johann Schmidt, and had been willing to buck traditional thinking to find an omega to be a shield, rather than a sword.
Which had worked brilliantly; anyone who’d seen Steve in combat could see that for themselves. But Dr. Erskine hadn’t had time to test the effects of the serum on Steve’s hormones or reproductive system. Sickly, pre-serum Steve Rogers had never had a proper, full heat. And after the serum he’d been in one high-stress situation after another without ever quite enough food to sustain his new metabolism, which convinced his body it had never been the right time. But after a seventy-year nap, gaining new friends to watch his back, and having all the food he could eat (Tony took Steve and Thor to buffets just to watch the cooks cry), Bruce had been predicting Steve would end up having the grandmother of all heats once his body finally evened itself out from having just random, short little half-heats.
Apparently it had managed to even everyone else on the team out at the same time.
Natasha swore again even as her cock began to harden just from the scents alone. She’d heard about omegas that lived together eventually having synchronized heats, but she hadn’t quite believed it. She’d brought each of her friends through their heats in turn, keeping down the potential awkwardness without expecting anything in return. It hadn’t been their fault they couldn’t be on suppression meds – the drugs wouldn’t work on Steve, Bruce, or Thor because of their odd metabolisms and something about Tony’s bout with palladium poisoning meant the same for him. She was called the Black Widow for a reason; Natasha liked sex. She was good at it, enough to make her partners forget how dangerous she could be. But for her friends, she could be both good and not have to worry about how she was going to have to kill or betray them afterwards.
That, and a deep part of her alpha self enjoyed the luxury of power she had over so many powerful omegas, even temporarily. She would have had to have her hormones checked if she hadn’t. Natasha didn’t usually give into those kinds of urges, but today… The one time both Bruce and Tony had gone into heat within two days of each other had been a challenge of coordination. Today was liable to be on par with a six-month spy sting if she was going to take care of all of her mates.
“You up for sharing?” Natasha asked abruptly.
Clint breathed in deep and stopped himself from bucking into the bed. He nodded frantically, and choked off a gasp as his body rode another fresh wave of arousal. “Please, Tasha.”
“Get to Stark’s room. If we’re going to wreck a bed, he has the biggest.”
Clint actually snorted a laugh through his lust and picked himself up with a groan.
“JARVIS?” Natasha called.
“Yes, Agent Romanov?”
“Get the rest of the team to assemble in Tony’s room.”
“Done. Shall I block all calls for the rest of the day?”
Natasha closed her fist again as another swirl of pheromones wafted by. “At least.”
Clint managed to get to the doorway, and Natasha carefully let him by and kept a distance between them as they walked to Tony’s room, neither of them touching just yet. Because if they did, the way things were now, the rest of the team was going to find them on their knees in the hallway going at it like rabbits, and that just wouldn’t be fair to the rest of them.
“Tony?” Natasha called softly as she opened the door.
“Please tell me you’re here to fuck me halfway into next week, because if you’re not I have a whole range of dildos I need to try out on myself and I’d rather gather that evidence in the privacy of my own lab,” Tony said in greeting, voice a little hoarse. He was naked as Clint already, sheened with sweat with his thighs obscenely spread, slick and wet and open, one hand already teasing himself, two fingers disappearing inside his hole. Natasha clamped down on a possessive surge at Stark’s wanton behavior, resisting the urge to climb up behind him and push him over, replacing those fingers with something that would make him scream her name.
“Since when did you get a California king-sized bed in your lab?” Clint asked.
“Since forever. Why, don’t you have a mattress in one of your nests in the rafters?” Tony countered.
“I don’t nest-, never mind,” Clint said, rolling his eyes and glancing sideways at Natasha. He almost reached for her and stopped himself, wrapping his arms around his chest and taking a deep breath and trying a cocky smile. “Well, since Stark seems to have himself well in hand, how about we get this party started?”
“For that crack, I’m doing you last,” Natasha said sternly, which made Tony snort and Clint actually moan very, very softly. He knew exactly what that meant.
“You’re her favorite, Barton. Lucky bastard.”
“Natasha?”
Natasha turned and had to bite her lip when she saw Bruce and Thor, both entirely unclothed holding an equally undressed weak-kneed Steve between them. Really, it was about as much naked, desperately needy flesh on display as one alpha could reasonably stand without frying a brain cell or two. That and Steve’s pheromones could probably have been used as a weapon. Thank fuck for Banner’s years of disciplined self-control and Thor’s stamina. At least someone else could help her keep a lid on the others’ needs while she got Steve past the worst of it.
“Natasha, please,” Steve said again, those blue eyes gone dark and unfocused with lust.
Natasha knelt down next to him and touched his face, and saw the subtle tenseness in the others as they all became aware of her finally making a choice.
“Steve, you’re in heat,” she said. He was so far gone, she wasn’t quite sure if he was even capable of listening.
He nodded slowly, a little sense coming into his eyes.
“You put everyone else in heat too.”
“Sorry,” he said, managing to actually look at everyone else, blinking in the realization that everyone else was as naked and aroused as he was. “I’m so sorry, guys.”
“It would have happened eventually anyway,” Bruce said reassuringly, and with far too much calm for a man whose thighs were glistening in the light from a fresh rush of slick. “Probably sooner than later. Don’t worry about it.” One thumb stroked the line of Steve’s bicep over and over, keeping Steve focused on something other than the slow, heated throb of his body.
“Because I’m not!” Tony called cheerfully from the bed.
“Aye, we know. Your alleged couplings are the stuff of legend on this world,” Thor said with mock gravity.
“‘Alleged?!’” Tony sputtered.
“Are you ok with a little help this time around? Because there’s just one of me,” Natasha said to Steve, ignoring the byplay. The guys had to do something to let off a bit of steam while she got everyone on the same page. “I’ll take care of all of you, you know I will, but this is going to be a team effort.”
Steve nodded slowly as she stroked her thumb along his jaw. He turned to follow her touch, his breathing getting heavier.
“Who do you want to help?” she asked.
“Anyone,” Steve nearly cried, and bucked hard in Bruce and Thor’s grasp, almost jerking himself loose. “Anyone!”
Natasha stood up and climbed onto the bed, shedding her clothes as she went. Five pairs of eyes fixed on her, and Natasha locked gazes with each of them for a moment.
I’ve got you all, was what she told them without words. A collective shudder seemed to rock through her mates, and Natasha’s cock throbbed in anticipation.
“Bring him to me,” she said, kneeling up amidst Stark’s black silk sheets and excessive amount of pillows. She knew what kind of picture she made, creamy skin and red hair against the darkness, and next to her Stark made some muffled little sound of appreciation. Bruce and Thor guided Steve onto the bed, crawling up from the foot in a display that nearly made her growl. Clint’s weight dipped the bed from the other side, and he reached over towards her, a condom in his hand. A bright, metallic red condom.
“Seriously?”
“It’s all he had,” Clint said apologetically. Tony looked entirely unapologetic, eyes heavily lidded as he kept slowly teasing himself with his fingers.
“Go on,” she said, and sighed as he stroked her length once before rolling the condom onto her. He couldn’t quite stop touching her as she knelt up a little farther, and she reached out to run her hand across his back and down, dipping into his warm wetness.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against her shoulder. He was shaking with the force of hold back, of not throwing himself at her, and she deepened her penetration into his body to hear a sigh of relief.
“Natasha,” Bruce nearly breathed, and she turned to see his hands a little too tight on Steve’s arm, the only sign of his strained self-control. The muscles in Thor’s jaw twitched in response, and Natasha waved them closer.
“Come on, boys.”
Natasha gripped herself as Bruce and Thor carefully lifted the lust-addled Steve and slowly dropped him down on their alpha’s cock. Steve’s eyes fluttered all the way open as Natasha filled him, his passage so slick and warm and open his body was virtually defenseless to her. If he’d been defending against her at all.
“Yes,” Steve whispered, a little sense returning to his eyes as he felt her bottom out inside him, thick and throbbing. “So good…”
“It’s going to get better. You ready?” she asked, voice even as her hand worked steadily inside Clint. Steve nodded, trusting her to make this right, make it good. To be in charge of the team. And right now, she had to get creative to get them all through this mission. “Tony, ride him.”
Steve had a cock even an alpha would be proud of, and Tony straddled him and sank down without another word, keening as his body eagerly accepted his thick, warm length.
“Fuck, that’s nice,” Tony said, leaning back and bracing his hands on Steve’s thighs. “Natasha, if you aren’t careful, he’d going to put you out of business.”
“Tony…” Steve said through gritted teeth, hips uncertain whether they wanted to thrust up into Tony’s wet heat or sink back on his alpha’s cock. Natasha thrust lightly inside his tight, wet warmth just to get him to calm down, and jerked her head at Thor.
“Come on, inside me,” she said impatiently, and ignored the startled glances from everyone else. Rare was the alpha who wanted to be penetrated, doubly so when they had a willing omega in front of them who was craving the same. Then again, most alphas didn’t have five desperate omegas needing them at once. Natasha huffed out a breath as Thor shifted around behind her, his huge hands spanning her hips as he lifted, thrust-.
She breathed out harshly as she felt him deep inside her, her inside Steve, Steve being shoved against her by Tony’s eager thrusts. And it still wasn’t enough – Bruce’s chemical-and-spice scent dominated her nose as he leaned into her, desperate for contact. Arching back, Natasha reached out with her other hand and thrust her fingers inside him. He shuddered and sighed, his hands all over her, leaning into her to nearly kiss her breath away as she slightly spread and curled her fingers, pressing out against his inner walls like a knot.
Clint caught sight of Banner’s expression and grinned through his heat; Natasha had pulled the same maneuver on him before, and he knew how amazing it could feel. He caught her eye and flicked his gaze over to Thor. She nodded with approval and thrust deeper inside him. Clint swore softly and brought his hand to her mouth. She pulled away from Bruce’s kiss long enough to wrap her tongue around Clint’s fingers and slick them up sensuously. Thor groaned softly a moment later when Clint’s hand penetrated him, his larger hands spreading and pressing against his walls, giving him relief.
Natasha could smell her omegas’ scents starting to swirl together, their sweat combining with hers, with each other’s, as they pushed and writhed together in a desperately uncoordinated, satisfying rhythm. Tony caught her eye and reached behind himself, adding a finger to Steve’s thickness inside him. She nodded slowly, and he pushed farther into himself and came, striping over Steve’s stomach. Thor groaned in her ear as Clint did something inside him, and she felt the rush of heat as he came, a series of aftershocks racing through her like electricity. Her twitches set Bruce off as he let a little of his control go, his hands so warm against her as they inscribed warm patterns on her skin.
Tony leaned forward on Steve, who was still huffing out tiny moans of arousal, and flicked his eyes up at Natasha.
“Go on,” she urged, deepening her thrusts into Steve as Tony slid his hand down and pressed firmly right behind Steve’s balls. Steve stiffened his surprise and Natasha leaned over him to catch his eyes. “Let it go, Steve.”
Another look at Tony, and he rocked his fingers firmly. Natasha could feel the tightness against her as Steve’s back arched and he thrust up hard into Tony. Both men cried out as Steve finally released, their eyes fixed on her as she eased Steve through the aftermath with short, sharp little thrusts. His strength and tightness almost undid her, even as his pheromones faded to a non-weaponized level, and Natasha could feel a tingling at the base of her cock.
“Boys,” she said a little breathlessly, “Are we good for a bit?”
“Fabulous,” Tony said, fingers flexing against Steve’s abs. Steve, she knew, wasn’t going to be capable of talking for a little while.
“I am well,” Thor murmured, his breath warm against her neck. Bruce just brushed his hands against her side in understanding, and Natasha sighed in relief before pulling away from Steve.
Groaning deep in her chest, she rolled into Clint, her patient, most long-suffering omega. She pushed inside him and wrapped an arm around him as she felt herself swell, come, and finally lock into place, her knot solid within him.
“Tasha,” he whispered, pushing back against her to feel her shift and press within him, solid, warm, and so very, very close.
“Good,” she said, her arms wrapped around him. “So good, Clint.”
Bruce’s arms reached to encircle both of them, rubbing up and down their arms, followed by Thor’s longer grasp, his strength tugging them upright within the circle of their warmth. Pale blue light spilled across them as Tony joined in, and a few moments later, Steve finally struggled upright to complete the group. Clint gasped soundlessly as everyone pressed in against him, Natasha inside him, the others all around him, and finally let go.
Natasha could smell all their scents coming together in a single, delicious whole as they clung together, her locked within Clint, the others locked around them. This might have started out as a little bit of an accident and a little bit of necessity, but was so much more than that now. So much more.
“Good boys,” she said, letting a smile cross her face as she relaxed. “My boys.”