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feminarrie · 5 years

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basic instincts [c.e]

a/n: this is my first real public venture into A/B/O dynamics. thank you again to @pastelshawns for lending me this concept! also thank you to chris evans for having uhh the best thighs!

18+ below the cut!

Two months she’s been away from him. A total of ninety-three days since she met him at the airport when he quite literally bumped into her as he rushed to catch his flight after his gate had changed. When she felt the electricity surge through her when his palms had pressed to her bicep and fingers curled to keep her steady. A furrow of his brow that melted when he locked eyes with her; his eyes flashing a golden honey with confusion, understanding, and then pain. If she thinks about the day for too long—which she does, routinely—she can still feel the ghost of his lips along her knuckles as he urged her to let him know when she lands. The scrunch of his nose when he looks back as he boards, the shadow of sadness fading with the light of hope of their bright future.

Even as his omega, she thinks he’s been more generous than need be. This is her second trip to see Chris in a span of three months and again, he had funded it fully. He’s spoiled her with a seat in first class and worked his schedule around so that it’s him that picks her up from the airport.

Turkish blue eyes scan the crowd for her, but he scents her before he sees her. A low rumble in his chest that can only be likened to a purr emits from his chest when he sees her. She’s swimming in a sweatshirt that he had bought for her during her last visit. He had kept it nearby, his scent weaving itself into the cotton and fleece blend. When she’s wrapped up in his arms, he tucks his nose into her shoulder and all he can smell is her. It’s overwhelming and comforting all at once. Captivating, sweet, and warm and Chris is happy he’s been able to take the next three days off to do nothing more than nose at her mark and let her command all of his senses.

“Missed you, sweetheart.” Chris murmurs into her neck before turning his head to press a lingering kiss to her shoulder. She hums at the pillowy kisses at the sliver of exposed skin, eyes glittering with flecks of gold that only Chris can conjure up. Her fingers search out his hand, cupping it in her much smaller hand so that she can run a thumb over his knuckles. Her thumb undulates across them, the pad of it gliding easily over soft skin. Briefly does she contemplate asking to use whatever expensive hand cream he must use. The thought flitters away with ease, replaced with the idea of curling up next to her alpha and existing solely in that pocket of safety and comfort for the next week.

. . . . . .

For the first three days, they both exist in that pocket. In being newly mated, the two of them hardly know each other. She knows that he’s relinquished his title as the current Captain America and gets a little pouty when he’s hungry. Chris knows that she is a blanket hog and that Dodger much preferred her snuggles over his when he had invited her to his home the first time. They spent the vast majority of those days filling in the gaps, giving and taking as much information as they feel comfortable, while holed up in Chris’ apartment.

Day four is when she wakes up with a subtle ache in her lower tummy and the lack of warmth that is usually provided by Chris’ sleeping form. She is quick to recognize that she is in the early stages of her heat and for a moment, she’s grateful that Chris is filming for the next sixteen or so hours. It gives her the chance to rid herself of the slowly warming coil in her tummy without the embarrassment she would feel for keening at the simple, innocent touches her alpha spoils her with. Even though she knows it’s natural, instinctual, she and Chris have hardly been that type of intimate. Physical touches only turning sinful when Chris traps her bottom lip between his teeth and presses a palm to the mark on her neck.

She ignores the dull ache between her thighs until she’s in the shower. The remnants of Chris’ time in the spacious glass shower consume all of her senses in the few seconds it takes for the water to heat up. His scent is still thick despite the fact that he’s been gone nearly six hours already. It’s heady and woody—all sandalwood and smoke—when the steam further amplifies it. Her eyes drift shut as she inhales deeply and the ache within her becomes far more noticeable.

She cums once, twice, three times in the shower before the water runs cold. Her fingers and toes are pruned, but she feels satiated and content in the post glow of her orgasms. Enough so that fatigue sets in her bones and leaves her with just enough energy to pull a black, baggy shirt over her head and some pretty baby blue boyshorts over the swell of her ass. She thinks there no sense in doing much more than that when she has every plan to take a short nap before cooking dinner for Chris to come home to after a long day of filming.

Her feet only leave the floor when she’s crawling onto the California king mattress where she plops herself right in the middle. She reaches for Chris’ pillow without hesitation, pulling it to her chest with one hand while the other pushes the comforter toward her legs. Sinking into the warmth of the comforter is easy with the bed still unmade; it lulls her to sleep in no time at all. The smell of her alpha just under her nose as she cradles the downy pillow to her chest.

She swears she only meant to sleep for an hour or two. Yet, she wakes hours later with the press of Chris’ lips at her forehead, cheeks, and then her Cupid’s bow when she blinks up at him. He’s half sitting up, most of his weight is held up by his forearm as he rolls to his left side. It allows him enough mobility to reach his right hand up to stroke at her cheek with his thumb, large palm cupping her jaw. She returns his kind gestures with a warm smile and long tired blinks before she presses a kiss to the heel of his palm.

“You’re back.” Her voice is soft and slow as molasses as she blinks up at him. Chris nods with a quiet laugh as to not pop the quiet of the dark room. Her face is washed in the golden rays of the setting sun, catching the flecks and swirls of gold in her eyes that never really seem to go away when she’s with him. The distinct sound of sheets rustling render Chris’ attempts useless, but he doesn’t mind when she leans forward to press their lips together. Even chapped, he’s content to know that he’ll be privileged to her kisses in this life and the many thereafter—mated and destined to find one another until the end of time. “I’ve missed you.” He says, pressing another chaste to her lips. The admission warms her and tugs at the corners of her lips in a tired smile. She repeats the sentiment with a soft sigh that is timed perfectly with a low growling in her stomach.

“S’late and you’re hungry, bug. You want to order in?” He asks and drops the hand at her cheek to place it at her hip beneath the comforter. He croons when he realizes she’s in nothing more than a shirt and underwear. The fatigue that has darkened the skin beneath his eyes and her pliancy does more to soften him than arouse him. Her rubs the skin just above the waistband, tilting his head slightly in question. She hums her affirmation and content, nodding her head ever so slightly.

They decide on some Korean place just ten minutes away that Chris discovered his first week of filming. He leaves her to wake up some more, pulling a baseball cap over lengthy brown hair and kissing her half a dozen times before he steps out the door. Chris isn’t time for too long, but long enough that she’s able to shuffle out into the living room and queue up something for something to watch. She settles on reruns of Criminal Minds, knowing it’ll hold their attention if they choose, but at a volume that allows it to fade into background noise.

It starts out as background noise as they eat, Chris talking about his day between mouthfuls of food. She prompts him with more questions about his day which warms something in Chris’ chest, spreads to his fingers and toes in waves of heat and electricity. It hums within him as he asks about her day though she answers with how mundane it had been. She also conveniently omits the fact that her heat is just around the corner because it simply doesn’t seem pertinent to their conversation.

(Really, she thinks mentioning how she’d been so wound up that she got off to his scent alone doesn’t exactly fit the picture of domesticity they exist in currently).

Eventually, the conversation dies down and with it, her energy wanes until Chris is beckoning her to lay her head down in his lap. An offer that she accepts willingly, shuffling down the couch to rest her head on his left thigh. His leg hair tickles her cheek as she pushes the fabric of his grey jogger shorts up so that she may feel the warmth of his body without barriers. His arm comes down to rest on a sliver of skin between her boyshorts and shirt, once again stroking at the expanse of warm skin. It lulls her into a safe, happy space that has her eyelids feeling heavy as she watches the television.

It’s the picture of honeymoon phase bliss and innocence until it’s not.

She’s never felt the ache quite this deep or robust. It feels red hot and more animalistic than anything she has ever felt before. If her thoughts weren’t so preoccupied with the way Chris’ thighs feel beneath her cheek, she would’ve made the connection between her impending heat and the presence of her alpha. Instead, she’s turning her head before she even thinks to stop herself and presses a lingering kiss just above his knee. Then another just above that and a trail of them before her lips ghost over the fraying hem of his shorts.

“Omega.”

She stills in her movements, but not out of fear or embarrassment. The deep, rumbly tone is something she has never heard from Chris. It’s authoritative and questioning all at once, and has her insides scrambling in anticipation. Eagerly does she look up at him beneath her lashes when she lifts her head. A mistake on her part, really. Chris’ lips are parted and his eyes a deep golden yellow. His nostrils flaring as he gets the first trace of her arousal. She smells of the earth after rain and something sweet that he can’t quite place, but it’s uniquely her—his omega.

He doesn’t stop her when she nips along the top of his thigh, peppering his pale skin with tints of red and pink. He simply tucks his lower lip between his teeth and grips her hip, thumb pressing into her Adonis belt. A low growl of her name stops the worrying of his lower lip for just a moment, but does little to stop her from kissing at his inner thigh once she’s shifted to gain better access. Her left hand reaches across to rub at his other thigh, squeezing when she sucks and bites a mark into the smooth skin of the innermost part of his thigh. The flat of her tongue soothes over it before she does the same just diagonal of the previous mark that has begun to blossom with pretty shades of red and tinges of purple. It earns her a deep, warning growl from somewhere in Chris’ chest and she halts her movements. Something about the noise above her has her backing down into submission.

“M’sorry, alpha.” The title rolls off her tongue with ease and it only serves to make Chris that much more aroused. He is painfully hard and straining even in the looser fabric of his shorts. Something that she is obviously aware of, tongue swiping over her bottom lip when she glances down between them. “Don’t apologize. Come here.” He says, patting his lap with one hand and she all, but scrambles to fit herself in his lap; fits her knee between his thighs and straddles his right one. It’s undoubtedly to relieve some of the pressure that is building in her core, but Chris doesn’t say a word about it. He only pushes up the hem of her shirt so that his hands can rest on the warm, bare skin of her hips.

“I want you so bad, sweetheart. I really do, but m’tired.” He watches as her look down, lips quivering around an apology. “I just don’t feel it’d be right for me to do that to you, hm? You’re close to your heat and deserve all that I can give, don’t you think?” Chris continues and feels the way her body heats up with his words. From the way her body feels as though it’s buzzing above him, he thinks she had no plans to tell him of her impending heat. Yet, it was obvious the moment her lips met the spot just above his knee. In fact, she was damn near nuzzling at him and that was his first hint that she was likely approaching her heat. “I just want to take care of you, little omega.”

She ruts against his thigh at his words, a low whine and apology following soon after. It’s then that Chris realizes how wet she really is. She has already soaked through her boyshorts and feels slick against his thigh. His eyes fall shut, his nose scrunching as if he is in pain. Which is not so far from the truth because fuck, he really wishes that he had enough energy in him to give her exactly what she wants—what they both want. But, a long day of action sequences on set has generated an unmistakeable ache in his muscles.

Chris feels terrible, he really does. It’s that unsatisfied desire and guilt that have him tilting his head at her in thought. Her own eyes, clouded with desperation and lust, scan his face as he thinks. An eyebrow quirks at him when he leans forward to press a kiss at the corner of her lips and comes away with a mischievous glint in his eye that glitters in the light of the television. She doesn’t have to question what he is thinking about for long because his grip on her hips tighten, moving her forward and then back again.

“Oh.” She whispers when Chris does it again, her clit pressed to his thigh. His hands never leave her hips even when she begins to ride his thigh on her own, her own hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. Nails dig into his back despite the layer of fabric between them as if she’s attempting to ground herself in the moment. Her eyes are closed as she fucks herself on Chris’ thighs, her hip muscles straining just slightly as she shifts to balance herself better.

“Look so pretty for me, little omega.” Chris praises her as she glides across his thigh. She moans, soft and breathy, in response. He thinks it’s quite possibly the most beautiful and sensual sounds he’s ever heard, if he’s honest. Her next words, however, are by far the filthiest. “Want your knot, alpha. Need it.” She mewls, hips stuttering as she nears the edge. He can feel the way her body winds up tight—muscles taut, jaw clenched—and smell how close she is. A predatory, animalistic growl rips from Chris’ chest as the strings holding her together begin to snap.

“Gonna fill you up with it tomorrow, sweetheart. Promise.” It’s the sweet, but sinful admission that is her undoing. Her head falls forward, forehead pressed against his shoulder as her orgasm runs through her; makes her shiver and quake above him as he squeezes at her hips, helping her ride through her high. He presses kisses into her temple and along her cheekbones all while listening to the way her heart works to calm itself. Though, he notices the telltale sound of a skipped beat when he pulls back to press a kiss to her lips. Smiles up at her with a sated, content look that holds something just a little bit more. Though, Chris thinks he’ll wait to tell her that, that “little bit more” is the beginnings of love that have started to take root in his chest.

#my writing #chris evans x reader #alpha!chris evans #alpha!ce #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans oneshot #chris evans drabble #chris evans blurb

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