Chapter 18
You were restless the next day. Between the stress of yesterday, the lack of sleep you’d gotten and your lack of suppressants, you were in desperate need of a drop. You shouldn’t have declined Wanda and Natasha’s offer to drop you yesterday. You’d been stupid to think you could hold it off until you were back home. This wasn’t the Red Room, and you weren’t on suppressants. Not anymore. You had tried to sleep, really you had, but after being woken up once only minutes after you began to dose to see a nurse standing over you, you’d been too on-edge to try to sleep again. Nat and Wanda wouldn’t be able to visit until the afternoon either, since apparently visiting hours started later today.
You startled as the door to your room opened and in walked the same doctor from yesterday, holding and iPad and not looking up as he entered. The med student trailed behind him.
“Hello Y/N, how are you feeling?”
“Good,” you lied, even as your voice sounded pained. Your painkillers had long-since worn off, and quite frankly you weren’t the sort of person to ask for more.
The doctor looked up for the first time, brows furrowed. “Really?” he asked, placing the tablet down. “Because you don’t look all that great.” No shit. “Ms. Reade care to tell me our patient’s visible symptoms?”
“Pale and sweaty skin, slight trembling, stiff limbs.” You held back a growl of frustration. You didn’t need her to list your symptoms to you. You knew what was happening to your body, just as you felt the head-splitting headache, the achy limbs, the brain-fog. You didn’t need her to tell you how you felt.
“Good. And what are these all symptoms of?”
“A patient fighting off a drop,” the med student answered.
“And although there are other things that fit these symptoms, we know this is a drop because...?”
“The scent.”
“Very good.”
“I’m right here,” you snapped with a growl.
The doctor stepped towards you, but when you pressed your back against the headboard of your bed to create some distance, he halted. Your breath faltered as you picked up his scent and your mind spun. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to remember your Red Room training. You couldn’t though. Not without your suppressants, not without the extrinsic motivation that your fear of the Red Room created. It wasn’t dangerous enough for you to not drop here. There was nothing stopping you. And that was it, all the unhealthy coping mechanisms you’d learnt to force away this need, gone.
“Don’t,” you muttered. “I can handle this.” Even to you, your voice sounded weak. Oh, if your instructors could see you now.
“We have highly trained alphas in the building who specialise in dropping patients,” he said calmly.
“No,” you barked, voice firm, albeit exhausted. “I don’t need your help, and I don’t need their help.”
“You won’t be able to hold it off much longer.”
You chuckled humourlessly. “Clearly you haven’t met me.”
“It’s physiology. It would take some serious psychological conditioning to be able to hold off a drop even for a couple hours.”
“Yeah? Well good thing I have that,” you muttered, words becoming increasingly harder.
The doc’s brows furrowed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” you bit out, “that when you’re raised by bloody Russian assassins that thought it was fun to torment you into a stress drop before breakfast, you learn some bloody coping mechanisms to stop it.” You didn’t mean to lower your voice to snap, you didn’t mean to share all that information with strangers, but god your head was a furnace, burning every coherent thought process you’d ever had to the ground.
“You’re going to hurt yourself.”
You didn’t respond and the doctor huffed. “Reade, page the on-call attending. Ask if we can break visiting hours just for today.”
“I can take care of it,” you muttered. You could. You could if you really wanted. You just had to practice your sniper breathing, remember what you’d been trained.
“No, not on my watch. I don’t doubt your ability to do so, but it’s on me if you end up in a coma from pushing yourself too far and I don’t particularly want to get fired.”
You locked gazes with the doctor as the med student pulled out her pager. You didn’t say a word.
Unsurprisingly, Natasha and Wanda arrived even quicker than you’d anticipated. The Tower was fifteen minutes away from the hospital and yet somehow, they made it to you in ten. Your relief was palpable as they entered. The doctor, who’d previously been standing in the corner to keep an eye on your condition, left quietly, seeing no reason to stay now. Nat and Wanda ignored him as he left, moving over to you.
“Hey Y/N, how are you feeling?” she asked softly, perching on the edge of your bed and running her fingers through your sweaty hair as Nat dimmed the lights down. You let out a sigh of relief – not at one thing in particular, just everything. Your irritation was still there, ebbing away, but it was lessening with them. This was good.
“I need you. To dom me,” you demanded. No, you didn’t just say, you demanded. Because you felt that if you were the first one to say it, it would give you some form of control that you could latch onto.
“Hey, hey,” Nat said gently. “What’s that tone all about Y/N?” She wasn’t irked at your attitude, but rather concerned.
You’d only dropped for Nat once, Wanda never. Willingly, anyway. Somehow, you didn’t think stress drops counted. This was different too. All the other times it had been accidental or forced in the case of your dry heat and stress drops. Doing something willingly was different. You wished Bullet was here. Not because you trusted him more than Nat or Wanda – you’d finally reached the point where you could jump off a cliff and trust that they’d catch you – but because he didn’t have the same morals they did. If you needed to be dommed strongly, like when you were like this, he knew how to slip into that mindset like the flick of a switch. He had no qualms in pinning you to the floor, to get your attitude in check. He had no problem with making you kneel and wait – just wait – until your mind teetered into the place where you could physically get to a drop. Because right now: right now, you were far too keyed-up to drop. It was always with consent, of course. He wasn’t a monster, he always made it clear that you could safeword at any time, not that you ever did. And no hitting either – never hitting with his hands, his fists. Belts were okay, canes were okay (you didn’t know why, they used those in the Red Room too, but they just weren’t a trigger to you), hands were not. Hands were a hard limit.
“Y/N,” Wanda sighed, “You don’t just need to be dommed, you need to drop.”
“I’m not going to drop. Not-“ you growled at yourself, frustration making it hard to think. “Not like this. I can’t.”
Wanda’s brow furrowed, but Nat’s expression cleared, then it hardened, and at the sight, some of the tension in your muscles unwound. She understood. “Your safeword is red, remember?” you nodded once, firmly, and her eyes narrowed. She’d slipped into her alpha mindset now. Good. “Words, Y/N. ‘Yes ma’am’ or ‘no ma’am’.”
“Apologies, ma’am,” you gritted out. It didn’t feel weird to call her ma’am as it had been in previous similar scenarios. The title almost gave you a sense of comfort, as if saying it reminded you that you didn’t have to be in control. Clearly though, Wanda had a different view.
“Natasha!” the witch shot an accusatory glance at her partner as you slid to the floor, careful not to tangle wires connecting you to machines as you did so. “What-“
She’d never seen this part of Natasha, of course. Hell, Natasha hadn’t even seen this side of herself since the Red Room.
“She needs this, Wanda,” Natasha said softly, wordlessly nudging her knee into your shoulder to encourage you to straighten your back. She switched her attention to you now. “Tell me if anything hurts and we can do other positions. I will not have you further injuring yourself. Unless it begins to hurt, you stay exactly as you are. Don’t move.” The firmness in her voice sends pleasant shivers down your spine. Your head dropped a little and you let out a soft breath. This was exactly what you needed. Natasha turned her attention back to Wanda and began to explain. “When they were teaching us to drop omegas in the Red Room, they used the omega girls. Normally, omegas can drop easily in the right scenarios, but because the omegas in the Red Room are more commonly abused into stress drops than anything, it can be… difficult to get in the right mindset to be able to drop.”
Wanda’s brow furrowed, trying to wrap her head around this.
“It sounds horrible, I know, and it’s something that we can work on, but for now, if we don’t do this, she’ll be stuck in this limbo until she stress drops.”
“But she dropped for you in the cinema room. And almost for me in my bedroom a few weeks back.”
“She dropped in the cinema room because she was tired, her suppressants were wearing off, and she was in a relaxed environment. Even though she didn’t feel completely safe around us at the time, she felt safe enough that her body decided it was okay to drop. She almost dropped with you right after a punishment. Now she’s in an unsafe environment to her,” she added with emphasis when Wanda opened her mouth to disagree that a hospital was not, in fact, an unsafe environment.
Wanda nodded reluctantly. “What can I do?”
“Sit back. I know you’re not comfortable with this sort of thing. You don’t have to participate.”
Wanda let out a breath. This harsh “ma’am” type style really wasn’t her thing. She knew it wasn’t really Natasha’s either, but it wasn’t a boundary for the other alpha like it was to her. She watched as Natasha leant down a little to slip her fingers under your chin.
“Good girl waiting while I talked to Wanda,” she praised softly but with an undercurrent of dominance.
Your eyes fluttered shut slightly and you leant your head into Natasha’s hand. She removed the support, tapping underneath your chin.
“Hold your own head up love.” Her tone was warning now, the sound sending a pleasant buzz through your system.
You shifted on the hard floor, trying to find a more comfortable position, when Natasha’s voice snapped through your thoughts, “I said, don’t move,” she all but snarled, her voice cutting through you like ice.
You weren’t scared, no, because this was Natasha and she wouldn’t push you to your limits, not here. This wasn’t a punishment. You knew that. It was more of a… redirection. A redirection of the pent-up nerves and irritation that threatened to spill over – that blocked you from being able to relax and drop. The ice in your veins… it was adrenaline. This was good.
Wanda stiffened at the tone of her partner. She’d never heard that tone from Natasha. Not in such an intimate situation. In arguments with the team, yes, but never to her, never during a session. It makes her wonder why you almost seem to relax at the sound of it when her own body automatically braces at the same sound.
“Wanda, grab my book out of my bag, will you love?” she asked gently, the change in tone palpable as she turned away from you for a moment.
You didn’t dare shift, wanting her to continue with whatever she was doing that was already making you feel better. She grabbed the offered book from Wanda, who despite being unsure of the situation, trusted that Natasha knew what she was doing. Slowly, Natasha placed the book on your head.
“Since you can’t seem to stay still on your own, I’ve got some motivation,” she smirked, adding just a tint of malice to the tone, not because she liked it, but because that was the sort of thing that she knew would help you down.
Having an order to focus on. You needed the concentration to quiet your mind, to allow her to nudge you into the submissive state of mind to let her drop you.
You let out a quiet, concentrated sigh as Natasha added the book on top of your already heavy head. When your hands reflexively reached up to steady the already-wobbling item, Natasha was quick to grab your wrists and force them back to your sides, albeit gently and careful to not hurt you.
“Hands stay here. Understood?”
You took a deep breath and for a second, Natasha’s harsh mask faltered in doubt before you said, “Yes ma’am.” Her hesitation had reassured you, because alphas who hesitate care, and alphas who care don’t hurt you.
You were rock-still, muscles stiff and legs cramping. You remained like that for minutes until your brain began to regain its fog. A muscle in your back spasmed, having been kept tense for too long, and you hastened to rebalance the book. Natasha raised a brow as she looked over to you from where she sat reading a second book she’d brought, ever the bibliophile. She could see that the emotions in your eyes had died down now. You met her eyes briefly, and she smirked as she saw a flash of determination. You wanted to please her, and she loved every second of it. Still, she was looking for a little more from you.
She stood, sauntering over to you, and you almost groaned as she placed a second book on your head. She scratched under your jaw gently. “Such a good girl, aren’t you?” your eyes fluttered shut and you leaned forwards unconsciously. You jerked up when you felt the books begin to slide. You caught it just in time by lifting your chin up frantically, but now the books balanced half on your forehead.
“Ma’am,” you choked out.
“Yes?”
Your cheeks heated up. “I need help, ma’am.”
Natasha smiled softly and she immediately removed the books from your head. Admitting to needing help was good. It meant that the same stubborn streak in your subconscious that was presenting in your conscious and stopping you from dropping was fading away.
“Such a good girl. Being so patient and still for me,” she murmured, carding her fingers through your hair. Your head began to tilt down but you quickly corrected yourself. Natasha chuckled. “It’s okay darling, relax.” The pet name sent pleasant shivers down your spine and you relaxed your neck a little, dropping your head down. Natasha pulled you closer to her, running a hand up and down your back. “Good girl. There you go. Do you think you can drop now?”
You nodded against her chest, mumbling a quiet, “Yeah.”
“Okay that’s good. That’s good. Can you get into the bed on your own?” Natasha asked, noticing how close to the edge you were. Your posture was hunched, eyes half-closed. You shook your head mutedly, already too close to the precipice. “Okay,” she helped you up, Wanda coming forward to aid too now that the part she was uncomfortable with seemed to be over. You curled into the witch in greeting. She may have never left the room, but you hadn’t yet had a proper interaction with her.
She chuckled softly, scratching the top of your head fondly and producing a soft purr from you. They guided you onto the bed, sandwiching you between them. You weren’t quite dropped yet, but you were on the cusp, and the cusp was enough that a few words or gentle touches could push you over the edge.
Wanda carded her fingers through your hair, her free hand gently grasping yours. Natasha whispered soft praises in your ear, switching between Russian and English. You slipped off into your drop more easily than you ever had before.