Coal - Six
Pairing: Alpha!Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Omega!Reader
Summary: Your heat hits, but your Alpha isn't there to help you. Good thing there's another big bad wolf in these woods.
Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, A/b/o dynamics, scenting, fluff, cuck!simon? (idk, maybe clickbait), smut, attempted assault,
Word Count: 2.5K
A/n: heyyyyy okay heres part 6 i hope you enjoy MWAH
~*~
It wasn't anything they hadn't done dozens of times before.
Simple. To the point.
Get in, get out, get rid of all hostiles.
The scent of Omega had been used before in this way, almost like a biological warfare.
But never had they succumbed to it the way they did that day.
A single split second hesitation that allowed the little thing to get the jump on them.
Though she didn't do much physical damage, the limp fall of her body shook the men to their core.
One, more than most.
Because in that moment, she wasn't a hostile. Wasn't an enemy.
For a split second, she was a woman. An Omega.
For a quick but impactful moment, he could feel you in her.
And then Soap put a bullet in her.
The memory of everything that happened and the idea of all that could've gone wrong stirs unease deep within his primal mind. A feeling that, for once, he doesn't fight.
Instead, he lets it wash through his body, mirroring the water raining down on him.
Finally, once he's cleaned the day off, he follows his nose in an attempt at finding you. You who can calm him, soothe the ache he feels in his chest, in his bond.
Simon starts at your room, following the aging scent of you down the halls, his brows drawing together when he walks through the kitchen, and then his heart rate spikes when he pushes through the exit at the very back.
The edges of his vision cloud and all that consumes him is the thick viscous sound of blood pumping behind his ears.
The wind carries a fresher version of your scent to his nose and he snaps back to attention, grabbing his phone as he takes off running.
Soap answers on the first ring, brows immediately pulling together when he hears the wind on the other end.
And then he's sitting up stiff as a board, smacking his hand into Gaz's thigh to grab his attention.
"We're on our way."
~*~
Your training exercise evading your pack mates taught you a lot.
Far more than you're sure they'd want you to know.
Because now it's been three days and they still haven't found you.
You can feel Simon's anger through the bond, feel his worry, and something else that you refuse to name.
Instead, you focus on anything else. Everything else.
Creating shelter, masking your scent, protecting yourself from the elements and the animals alike.
You're not sure how far you are from the base, but if the sounds of the wolves at night are anything to go off of, you're pretty far.
A wave of fear suddenly washes over you, followed immediately by chills as sweat begins to bead on your body.
The sound of the fire crackling nearby does little to drown out your moan of dread as you drop your head back against the little cave wall.
You don't have long. A few hours, at most, until your heat hits full throttle.
So you spring into action.
Stoking the fire to keep it alive, you venture outside to gather more wood.
You took enough rations and water to -hopefully- last your heat, now all you need is enough wood and mud to mask your scent throughout the worst of it.
The worst of it hits faster than usual, and you find yourself stumbling back to the cave, trying to hold on to your bounty while also pressing a firm hand to your cramping abdomen.
You drop the wood as soon as you're back inside the safety of your cave, hunching over with your hands on your thighs and trying to take deep breaths.
Sweat beads down your back, sticking your shirt to your skin until you tear it off in a heat-induced rage.
Cool rock is suddenly pressed against your flushed skin and you groan softly, fingers digging into the ground as you seek out the sweet relief you know you won't find.
Because the one thing that can truly cure the desperate longing ache in your belly is the one you want to see least in the world.
But just because you don't want to see him, doesn't mean he isn't tearing the world apart in his search for you.
Unfortunately for him, he's not the first one to track you.
You hardly notice the new presence. You don't hear him approach, only really registering his presence a moment before his clammy rough hands find your soft, tingling skin.
A sound that's half whine half gasp leaves your lips, and you crane your head back to look at the man.
Fear ices your veins when you're met with a face you don't recognize.
"Didn't think it was true," the man murmurs, a heavy hand grabbing the back of your neck and forcing your face into the ground.
You try to fight, to flee, to escape with your dignity intact, but you're a slave to your instincgs.
As if there wasn't enough salt in the wound, this only proves your Alpha right. Omegas are useless. Weak. Fragile.
The rough hand holding your neck forces you to submit against your will, and not but a whimper leaves your lips.
Silent tears trek down your cheeks and for a brief but profound moment you find yourself wishing you'd never been cursed with your presentation.
A harsh knee forces its way between yours, shoving your thighs apart.
The scent of your heat is already heavy in the cave, but with nothing but your panties covering you, the spreading of your legs only further taints the air.
The brute on top of you is suddenly gone, and it takes you a few moments to realize why.
There, in the mouth of the cave beyond the flicker of the flames is a familiar skull face, murderous eyes focused on the man on the ground in front of him.
You watch through the fire as he towers over the stranger, head cocking to the side with an eery calmness.
And then he's sinking to his knees, strong hand squeezing the mans throat.
"Touch her again," he whispers, his eyes unblinking, unwavering.
"I-I'm sorry, Lieutenant," the man pleads hoarsely, voice lacking the confidence it held mere moments earlier.
"Touch her again!" He snarls, cracking the man's head against the ground.
Your inner Omega forces you to move, eyes on the two threats standing between you and safety.
"Do it," Simon says, "go on. Make your death worthwhile, at least."
The cave stinks of smoke, pheromones, and fear. You can't tear your eyes from the two men, even when a crunch rings out and the man stops struggling.
Simon's eyes meet yours, finally, for one breath, and then another, and then he's hauling the dying man out of the cave without a word.
You move quickly, grabbing only what you absolutely need and then running out of the cave in the opposite direction.
You stumble more than you sprint, but you don't care. Your Omega doesn't care.
All that matters is putting as much space between you and the Alpha as possible.
But if you think you're getting away that easy, you've got another thing coming.
It takes him no time at all to catch up to you. Your heat hinders you more than you're ready to admit.
But that's what gives you the upper hand.
It's your heat, your feral Omega, that forces him to stay several paces away when he catches you.
He holds his hands up in surrender, inching forward slowly.
With every step he takes, you take one back, growling warningly.
He doesn't want to hurt you. More than anything he just wants to take you back to base and lock you in his room where nothing and no one can ever hurt you.
But he knows you're not going anywhere without a fight.
"Omega," he tries, ducking down when you huck a rock at him.
"No," you snarl. Though it's your voice, it doesn't sound like you at all.
Because you, the you he's used to, are hidden somewhere behind the teeth and claws of your inner Omega.
She's at the reins, she's holdin the steering wheel.
And he has no idea how to talk to her.
"I won't hurt you."
"Get away."
"No."
"Get away!" Another rock.
"Stop!" Now his voice rivals yours, heavy authority weighing down the words.
"Why are you even out here? I thought I was a waste of fucking oxygen. Why waste your time coming after me?"
This makes him pause and then he's swallowing down his regret and forcing out whatever he can think of to break the tense silence.
"Wasn't talking about you." Is his pathetic lie.
You glare at him.
"Let me leave."
"No."
"Please."
"Never."
A sob bubbles out of your chest and you feel anger burn through your being.
How dare he witness your pain.
He does more than just witness it. He completely disregards it. Takes advantage of it and uses it to gain the upper hand.
He tosses you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, strong arms pinning your writhing body to his to stop you from escaping. With you hauled over his shoulder, he marches back to the cave to -hopefully- find some peace for the rest of the night.
The moment his grip loosens, you slip away and scramble as far back as you can, burrowing as deeply in the cave as possible while keeping your wild eyes on him.
You don't let him touch you.
Or maybe, your Omega doesn't let him touch you.
Either way, Simon Riley sits at the mouth of the cave, dark eyes tick tocking between you and the dangerous world outside like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.
You, you in the corner of the cave, writhing in heat induced agony while refusing the cure. You with one hand shoved between your legs and the other groping a heaving breast.
Your scent is heavy and thick, but with a protector now you don't feel the need to mask it. Nor can you really focus on somethings so trivial when it feels like someone's taking a chainsaw to your insides.
Your pain is tangeible, palpible. Simon can taste it on the air and it kills him that you wont fucking let him help you.
So instead, he called-
"Jesus, isn't that a sight."
Captain John Price shuffles his feet loudly just outside the cave, weary eyes trained on you as you snap your head up, growling in warning at the intruder.
"S'just me," he tries, holding his hands up in surrender.
You glance between him and Simon for a few long seconds before eventually dropping your head back and letting out another mewl of pain as your fingers continue working between your legs.
"How long she been like this?" He asks, shrugging off his jacket then kneeling to untie his boots.
"Hours at least. Maybe longer."
"Fuckin' hell."
The older Alpha takes a deep, rumbling breath, then huffs one out just as heavily.
He does this a few times, works hard to break through the barrier of your scent that's gushing from you almost as profusely as the slick between your thighs.
When the first hints of that musky, woodsy scent finally tickle your nose you whine, eyes flashing open.
"Alpha."
A shiver ripples down Simon's spine, and he needs to take slow, careful breaths to keep his composure.
"M'here, little one. Can I touch you?" Price asks quietly, always the gentleman.
You reach for him, a shuddering cry hiccuping out of your chest when his fingers brush against yours.
Simon's heart cracks in his chest a bit at the noise and he wishes he could drown in the waves of regret that poison him. They storm over him, hurricanes of envy and self-loathing that do everything but take him away.
So he sits, like the bad mutt he is, and watches as his Captain slides two thick fingers through your dripping folds while your hands flutter pathetically against his chest.
Simon can practically feel the ghost of you as he watches his Captain handle you.
Price does it with such ease, such tenderness, it almost makes the Ghost sick.
The older Alpha tugs off his shirt and rolls you onto your stomach, a happy growl rumbling in his chest when you immediately arch your back and present your pussy for him.
"There she is, good Omega. Had us worried sick," he murmurs, pants shoved down to his ankles as he makes his way behind you.
He blankets himself over you, thick hairy chest warming your sensitive back while his fingers slip into your sopping little hole.
The mewl that leaves your lips is finer than any music, and Price suddenly feels a decade younger.
He nudges his nose against the back of your neck and scents you deeply, huffs and puffs hot breaths of air onto the sensitive skin there and relishes in the way the rest of your body responds.
Your cunt clenches around three of his thick fingers, a shiver ripples down your spine, and finally, finally, your scent starts to settle and a soft sigh leaves your lips.
Price's scent is so homey, so warm and so safe that tears spring to your eyes and shuffle down your cheeks in silent little streams.
You whine in protest when he pulls his fingers out of you, but he's quick to shush you with a soft nip at your neck.
His heavy cock is there suddenly, warm and throbbing between your legs, and then he slides through your folds, rubbing your wet clit on each pass.
The sound that leaves your mouth has Simon's hands twitching.
"Easy, little one," Price rumbles in your ear, hot breath fanning down your neck and dusting over your mark.
Your breath hitches on a moan, and your hips jerk back just as he rolls his forward. Instead of sliding through your folds again and further tormenting you, he's swiftly half-sheathed inside of your fluttering walls.
A shuddering groan leaves the man behind you, and then he's pulling back only to slide right back in.
You gush around him as he works his way inside of you, mouth and eyes wide as you finally, finally get that relief you've been gnawing at for hours.
Drool pools under your chin and your eyes become glassy as he fucks every inch of his thick cock into your wet hole.
Your Alpha watches on in silent despair.
When Simon was in his rut, he fucked you like a dog, hot and hungry and desperate.
Price, on the other hand, ruts into you hard and heavy like a bear. Big grizzly body caging you against the floor of your den as he fucks his cubs into your waiting womb while your Alpha sits like a cuck at the mouth of the cave.
Eventually, after the darkness has started to fade and your belly is almost swollen with cum, you fall asleep in Price's arms.
"We need to bring her back."
Simon only snorts and shakes his head.
"She's satiated right now. We need to take advantage of it," Price presses, huffing more of his scent onto you to keep you lost in the fog of your bliss.
Silence falls over the cave for a long moment before Simon is up and moving, packing up what little belongings you have.
"Get her dressed."
