“… Sweetheart, when was the last time you went into heat?”
“I mean, I’ve— I’ve always been on suppressants, so—“
“That’s not a date, love.”
You swallow hard, looking at the cement floor of the makeshift safe house. You were supposed to be home by now, to have access to all your meds—but no. You were here. Out in enemy territory, holed up with the rest of your team.
Your otherwise all alpha team.
“Never.”
Well. Shit.
That's what makes it so hard for them to resist you! Your poor distress calls from the other side of the safe house as you writhe in the cold bath.
It doesn't matter what you do to try and ease the pain and heat, it won't stop. Your wails of discomfort have sent them on a spiral. Soap had to be cuffed to the radiator to prevent him from bounding across the house. Gaz and Ghost have pillows over their ears. Price's resolve is weakening with each passing second.
It isn't until you go quiet that they snap. Something is wrong. Really wrong. Omegas don't usually quiet down until they're sated. Price is off like a shot. Johnny busts the cuffs to take off after him. Gaz is faster though. He beats all of them to the door, hammering on it, screaming for you.
Your scent is overpowering. It's soured by the anguish you were in. When they knock down the door, they find you curled up in the bath, whimpering and crying. It hurt so bad, there was nothing you could do but sob while your hole clenched uselessly around nothing.
Price scoops you up out of the tub and dries you off.
"Don't cry 'mega. Shh. Let us take care of ya, yeah? Here, take a deep breath, let our scents calm you down."
