Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You need an Omega, my boy. Something to take care of you, and something for you to take care off.” Obie says, hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony shrugs him off and keeps walking. The man was his godfather, but he’d always been too touchy for his own good. “I’ve already told Dad.” He shoots a look at Howard. “I don’t need an Omega, just one more thing I’m going to fuck up, just like everything else I fuck up.” He says harshly, uncaring of who might hear him.

“Don’t get snippy with me, boy.” Howard’s voice stern in the hallway, walk kept to a brisk pace as they make their way to the viewing room. “I’ve talked to your mother about this, and she agrees that it’s time that you had a personal Omega.”

Tony huffs at him. “So now you’re suddenly listening to her? When she’s taking your side? Great job, Dad, I’m sure she almost-”

“It was her idea.” Howard says calmly.

“-spoke her- I don’t believe you.” He sneers, throws a hand in the air aggressively, wrinkling the sleeve of the very expensive three-piece suit he had on.

“You can give her a call if you’d like.” Howard challenges, brow raised and mustache ruffled. “And you know how your mother gets when she feels like she’s being misunderstood.”

Tony grumbles his distaste of the situation. He would think that his mom would be the last person to try and saddle him up, after years of being coddled and fended off from Howard’s plans, it was a surprise that she would have suggested something his father would actually like.

“If I don’t like any of them?” He gestures around him vaguely. Omegas, ugh.

“Then we come back.” Howard stares at him, something incredibly stubborn and mad in his eyes. “Over.” He pauses. “And over.” He pauses. “And over again.” He pauses again. “Until you get one, and bring it home.” If there was anything that Tony could count on, it was Howard’s almost insane need to always be right.

Tony huffs, ready to throw an insult at Howard, critic his obsessive behavior to prove his position as head Alpha, and Obie puts his hand on Tony’s shoulder again. “What your father is trying to say is, we’ll keep trying until you find yourself a perfect match.” He pats his back affectionately, but it only serves to irritate Tony. “One you’ll like. After all, their life will be tied to yours, until the day they die. You could always sell it to someone else, but you can never quite get one at the price of cost.” Obie chortles.

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with.” Tony relents, taking the pamphlet being handed out and walks ahead of them into the viewing room.

Omegas of different sizes and shapes, strewn behind glass panes. None of them look like they’re past the age of fourteen. Almost doll-like in the way they stare at the visitors, unflinching at the attention. Like works of art, they’re completely naked, breasts, asses and cocks in open display. This auction boasts twenty unique Omegas, each from a different part of the world, or so the curator announces.

“They’re all virgins, of course.” The curator puffs his chests in pride. “Only the finest are allowed to be sold here at The Gallery.” Which is the most generic auction house name that Tony can think of, but even he has heard of the exclusivity of Omegas sold here, said to be bred and handpicked by a mysterious host who has an eye for beautiful and interesting Omegas. “I’m sure you will find one to your fancy, young Stark.”

And, being a Stark, he was allowed access to the exclusivity of it all.

Yet, he can’t help but feel bitter about everything, feeling about as much forced to be here as the Omegas are. Obie points at the ones that interest him, says something jovial and light-hearted. Howard silently views the Omegas, uttering minor compliments to the ones that catch his eyes.

Their hair, their skin, the color of their eyes. There was beauty in each of them, an innocence that makes them mystifying. Even Tony, and his limited attention to all and anything Omega, is captivated by the sight of them. He can almost imagine bringing one home for his beck and call. Having an Omega was a privilege that only Alphas had, a responsibility that eluded Betas, as such they were highly regarded possessions and flaunted an Alpha’s status over the general population.

It was all very rooted in tradition, but Tony didn’t have much interest in it. He was a forward thinker, orientation has never given him advantage in the field of science and machines. Sure, he was still a college student, but he’s passed two patents already for his work in Artificial Intelligence, pending a third in assistive robot technology, but he liked to think that instinct and hindbrain thought were behind him.

Apparently not, not with the way he stares at the Omegas on display.

They’re ushered into another room, this one larger and more posh, with lush seats and dim lights like a theatre. The rules are set. Bidding starts when the curator says so, each Omega’s floor price is different, and so are increments. To bid, all they had to do was raise their numbered paddles to indicate their bid. As Alphas, they were obligated to commit to their bids, and pay the amount at the end of the auction. Until then, there was wine, cheese, and fruit for everyone.

God, what Tony would do for a burger.

Only Tony has a numbered paddle between the three of them. Money wasn’t an option, and it wasn’t like Howard would actually stop him from bidding. He flips through the pamphlet, a picture of each Omega on it, with a short apt description. Their height and weight, heritage, blood type, origin, their personality, which Tony snorts at.

Obedient. Shy. Gentle. Caring. Curious. Tony swears they must have just gotten some adjectives and placed them on the pamphlet at random.

Tony sits through most of it, watches as people bid for the Omegas, each one brought up to the stage, still naked. They go anywhere from a hundred thousand to two hundred. He almost feels sorry for them, how they must feel to just stand there and be stared at. And with each successful bid, there’s a smatter of polite applause for the winner.

He’s placed a few bids himself, making the price increase about a thousand at a time, which really he does to agitate both Obie and Howard. None of the Omegas really catch his interest. Objectively, they’re all just… Too blank for his liking, he can’t possibly think of what he might do with any of them if he were to bring one home.

Eventually, the last Omega goes for a sale, a tall lanky one with a burst of white hair and captivating blue eyes, and Tony makes the price go all the way up to two-fifty before conceding to an older Alpha.

There’s the rustle of seats as some Alphas move to get up, auction concluded before the curator makes a hurried wave at the crowd. “Excuse me, Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would all kindly remain seated. Our gracious host has a last surprise for everyone.”

A rumble of chairs until everyone is seated once more, a few mutters of curiosity.

The curator, now with an apt audience, smiles, and motions to a newly revealed box onstage, covered in thick satin-like the other boxes had been. “Our last auction piece comes from New York. A formerly owned Omega, we shall be clear about that now, but still very much a virgin.” There’s another burst of chatter, disbelief rattles throughout the room. Tony knows what an Omega’s expected duty is, and it wasn’t cleaning the house. It was to lie in bed and seduce, produce pups for the Alpha. It was hard to think that this one would be untouched, especially if it already had a first Alpha.

“You must see him for yourself.” The curator pools down the thick veil.

The mutters stop.

And then burst out into a loud clamor.

Tony himself is mesmerized. The Omega is ripped. Like all the others, he’s naked from head to toe, not an inch of cloth to hide his form, and, Tony thinks, for good reason. He, because the Omega is a he that much was undeniably clear, to hide that body behind any article of clothing would be a sin to nature itself. Muscle over layer of muscle, biceps bulging as the Omega flinches from the unveil, the light must be blinding him, crystal blue eyes blinking rapidly, adjusting. Soft-looking blonde hair frames his face, falls just past his ears, shorter than what most Omegas would wear, but nonetheless attractive in that wild sort of way.

“Taking an interest, son?” Howard barks, laughs as he pulls Tony back down to his seat. Tony hadn’t even realized he’d gotten up, his thoughts were focused on getting a better look of the Omega.

The curator reigns in the crowd. “Now. Settle down, settle down. I know, he makes quite the first impression. I hope that this round of bids will show respect to an Omega of his stature. Speaking of which, as he is a last-minute addition to tonight's proceedings. I shall be announcing his status.”

He clears his throat, and pulls out a cue card from his pocket. “Stands at six feet two inches. Two hundred fifty pounds in weight. Fluently speaks English and German. Born in New York, in the United States of America from the Ceallach Line, known to be a very robust and malleable line, with easily adaptable natures and personalities.”

“Bidding starts at a hundred thousand. Do I have any takers?”

There’s a flurry of bidding, and the blonde Omega is quickly worth two hundred fifty in just a few minutes.

“Would you believe this place? Passing off a used Omega. And all these idiots bidding on it anyway.” Obie sneers.

Howard just looks on. “He does look interesting.”

Tony’s still too caught up with looking at the Omega, the hard look on his face. Was that the difference between those doll-like Omegas and an Omega who’s had an owner before? There was no innocence on this Omega’s face, not the blank stares of no doubt clueless Omegas, but this one held himself tightly, making his muscle bunch together, not quite curled up, but looked as though he would try to escape if given the chance. There was intelligence behind those blue eyes, knowing and perceptive.

The bidding is still going, three forty as yet another Alpha puts up his paddle, the highest amount yet for the night.

Tony stands, mind made up. “Five hundred thousand.”

There’s a hush in the room, raised brows thrown in his direction but he ignores them, keeps his eyes on the Curator, the only person he needs to convey any meaning to, but even he looks taken by shock.

“Five hundred thousand.” The Curator confirms when the moment passes, and another flurry of mutters sweep the room.

“Tony, what are you doing?” Obie hisses, grabbing Tony’s arm but Tony shakes it off.

“You wanted me to pick an Omega, right?” Tony smirks, all bravado still, looks to Howard. “Well, I pick him.”

He can almost see the tick in his father’s jaw, the narrowed eyes, the usual amount of perception with everything he does, held underneath a microscope and examined, molecule by molecule.

“Six hundred thousand.”

Tony’s head whips back to the rest of the crowd, eyes narrowing at the other figure who stands. Military uniform, he knows the type, well-decorated, hard-jawed. Old. High-ranking, if Tony were to guess. The Alpha stares at him, but he’s too far away for Tony to make out the details of his face. Tony takes it as a challenge anyway.

“One million.” Tony smiles, all teeth.

“One million.” Obie gasps. “Tony, please, this is ridiculous.” He realizes that Tony isn’t even listening to him anymore, focus solely on the military Alpha, and turns to Howard. “Howard. Talk some sense into the boy. A million for an Omega. It’s absurd, they aren’t worth that much.”

“Tony.” Howard finally utters, and oh, it would be such a sweet victory, if he could just ignore his father, but he turns anyway, breath sucked in, ready to be told off.

From behind him, he can hear the Curator making the rounds. “One million going once.”

“Money's no object, but you must understand that this Omega is solely under your responsibility.” Howard says.

“Yeah, I do.” Tony answers back.

“One million going twice.”

“I won’t be cleaning up any of your messes where this one is concerned. Are we clear?” Howard says, a little more sternly, but Tony could swear there was a twinkle of something mischievous in Howard’s eyes.

“Crystal.”

“And sold to paddle number one! This concludes the auction. Congratulations to all the winners, please do stay to discuss financial statements, and do I hope everyone else has thoroughly enjoyed tonight’s proceedings.”

Tony smirks at his opponent, who meekly sits back down. He turns his attention to the Omega, who’s also looking at him, something indescribable in his gaze, some mix of disbelief, pride and something else there.

Howard nods. “Obie and I will head off first. Stay behind and take care of your Omega.” And then Howard actually smiles at him, and nudges Obie. “A Stark through and through, eh?”

“Oh, no doubt, Howard.” Obie all but sneers. “Booze and Omegas, clearly the mark of a Stark.”

“Hey. You wanted a spectacle. By tomorrow, everyone’s going to know about my Omega.” Tony grins. And wasn’t that such a nice thought. My Omega.

While Howard and Obie meander away, Tony turns to see the Curator making his way towards him. “That’s alright, Heather. I’ll handle Mr. Stark’s account personally.” He waves off his what-must-be secretary, and straightens his jacket. He has the looks of a man who had just won a million bucks. Or the equivalent commission from it, Tony supposes.

“Congratulations on your first Omega, Mr. Stark.” He offers a hand to shake.

Tony just looks at his hand and shrugs. “So how do we do this? Do I get him now or-?”

“Oh, of course.” The Beta says, doesn’t look at all bothered by how Tony had brushed him off. “There’s just the matter of payment and he’s all yours. Of course, I believe that an Alpha of your family won’t find it difficult to balance the finances.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony snaps. “I’d like to bring him home tonight.”

“Tonight?” He blathers. “Oh. But we have to make sure he is thoroughly cleaned and groomed to your liking, wouldn’t want to-”

“Tonight.” Tony says with finality, rolls his eyes, takes out his phone and begins walking out of the theatre. “Where should I have to transfer the money to get it done?”

The Curator follows after him, quickly lead off by Tony. He produces a paper with bank information. “The company’s bank account should suffice, if you’d like to copy it down-”

Tony ruffles the papers out of his hands, takes a picture of the bank numbers and surfs through his personal bank account. “There.” He says after a few moments, shows the Curator the amount and transfer confirmation. “It might take a few minutes for your end to confirm, but you wouldn’t doubt me, would you?” Tony grins.

“Of course not. Sir.” The Beta almost stammers.

“Now.” Tony pauses, abruptly stops walking to face the Beta, who nearly bumps right into him. “What was your name again?”

“Err. Jasper.”

“So, Jasper. Like I was saying. I’m getting the Omega tonight. Be a dear and facilitate that would you?”

“Of course, Mr. Stark.” Jasper nods, and then looks pained. “But I must insist. His papers have to be transferred to your name still, as well as the rest of his registration, along with his permits. I can have them expedite it all, of course. Grease the wheels, if you catch my drift, but it would still take a few hours at best.”

“Jasper.” Tony sighs, voice aggravated. “I just paid a lot of money for this Omega. I thought The Gallery was the best house this side of the world. I’m not sure I’d come back here again if I knew service was this dull.”

Jasper pales. “No, of course not, Mr. Stark! The Gallery is the best. It’s just. I-” The Beta pauses and then calms down, an enlightened smile on his face. “I have just the idea, I’m sure you’d love it, Mr. Stark. I’ll bring you to your Omega instead.”

With that and a nod, Jasper leads him down through a hall, into another lobby with plush couches. It’s quiet, entirely private, and Jasper excuses himself. “Do make yourself comfortable, Mr. Stark. I just have a call to make about preparations.” The Beta scurries off.

Tony watches him leave, and it’s only moments before he’s tapping away at his phone. He had to say, talking like his dad sure had its perks, with just a few tiny words of annoyance and assertion, he had the Beta shaking in his palm. No doubt the man had been quaking in his leather shoes when Tony mentioned never coming back.

It’s a Friday night. Thank christ. No classes tomorrow because that would have just killed his mood for the rest of the night, but that didn’t mean he could slack off. Nope. He had a paper due by Monday, and then a machine project on Tuesday. He had made some headway through with the project but the paper wasn’t even done yet. Fucking business classes. He’d drop them if he could, but then he knew Howard would have him expelled from college somehow. The pull the old man had on the school was unbelievable, especially with how he was financing, like, seventy percent of the science department. Which was, yeah okay, Tony had some leeway there too because of it.

He’s still typing out a draft on his phone when the Beta comes rushing on, huge smiles on his face. “Mr. Stark. You’ll be happy to know that I’ve prepared your Omega for you.”

“Great, I’ll meet your guys up front. Car’s up with the valet.”

“Oh no. His papers are still in-process. I’ve moved it up the priority list however, it will be another hour before it’s finished. No, no. Oh, you’ll see, I think you’ll be quite pleased.”

Jasper motions for him to follow, so Tony does, still a little confused with it all, as they walk through yet another part of The Gallery.

“You’ll be happy to know that he already has an Omega visa for both America and Germany. It seemed his previous owner was quite fond of travelling between countries and brought his Omega along with him.”

“Who was his first Alpha anyway?”

“A man by the name of Professor Erksine. He was a doctor of medicine, but had recently taken to teaching at Cornell.” How strange, Tony was enrolled at Cornell as well, and vaguely wondered if he’d ever met the professor. “Rest assured, Mr. Stark. We’ve confirmed that he’s a virgin.” How, hangs in the air, but Tony isn’t that morbidly curious.

“What happened to him?”

“Well, he passed you see. Peacefully. And while most of his belongings had been attended to by his will, his Omega had been left out of it. The good professor had no heirs, and thus none to lay claim to the Omega.” Jasper frowns, but then perks up. “It just so happened that our wonderful host had picked him up, paid his dues, and here he is. Lucky you.”

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Jasper leads him to another door, and stops right before it. “Your Omega is in this room. I feel like I should inform you of that first.”

“And why is that?”

Jasper nods, and opens the door, ushers Tony inside.

Tony gets hit in the face with the sweetest scent he’s ever encountered. He’s surrounded by it, overwhelmed by it, yet he can’t get enough.

“What is that.” He’s surprised his voice isn’t shaking.

Jasper doesn’t even look affected. “We’ve given him a little something you see. Nothing to worry about, it’s not dangerous. Just a little aphrodisiac for Omegas that make them more agreeable to Alphas.” Jasper smiles.

Tony’s overtaken by the urge to get closer to the scent. The room is much too large, Tony thinks, because he can’t see the Omega, but he can be sure as hell can tell that he’s in the room somewhere.

“I take it, it’s to your liking?”

“Leave.”

Jasper blinks, doesn’t even look offended. “Of course.” Like he deals with this all the time. “I’ll post someone by the door for anything you need.”

“Leave.” Tony growls.

A sigh, but the door closes behind Tony.

He prowls, follows the sure scent of Omega in the air.

And there he is, sprawled on the bed, with not even a blanket to hide his modesty. The room fades for Tony, his eyes set on the sight of the Omega, curled on the bed, the light of the room reflecting on the sweat that dotted the Omega’s body. He’s even much more magnificent up close, muscles heavily defined with every line of his body, wide shoulders and strong thighs. Tony licks his lips.

There’s a gasp, and then the Omega focuses accusing blue eyes on Tony. He doesn’t make a move.

Tony prowls, circles to the side of the bed and sits just by the Omega’s back, he runs light fingers on the Omega’s back, feels the heat that comes off from him in waves, hot and sticky in the air.

The Omega lets out a choked snarled, and all of a sudden, Tony’s on his back, arms pinned above his head, and a very heavy Omega on his chest.

“Holy shit.” He gasps, finding it hard to breath, and his dick can’t quite agree to whether this position is less or more arousing.

“You’re not touching me.” The Omega snarls. “This is.” He huffs. “Bad. Very bad. They gave me. Something.” The Omega speaks like it takes all his concentration for his tongue to cooperate, his eyes unable to truly focus as they flit from Tony, the bed, the floor, to the windowless walls, to a table, chair and then snap back to Tony.

He crawls away like he’s been burned, suddenly taking the far end of the bed with wary eyes still stuck on Tony. There's a collar around his neck, dark leather of some kind, clipped to a chain that's shackled to the bed.

So far, Tony’s expectations have been thrown out the window. What he had expected to find was a heat-desperate Omega, who’d beg for his cock among other things, and they could spend the next hour knowing each other intimately. He’d never had to care as to what the Omega was thinking, or encountered one that would outright not want sex.

“Hey, it’s alright. I won’t hurt you.” Tony coos, slowly nears him.

The Omega only stiffens, distrusting eyes flitting over him.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I’m your owner now, we’ll get along eventually, so why not start now?”

That seems to be the wrong thing to say, as the Omega turns all the way, shows his impressive back to him. If the Omega were not chained, he would surely be at the other side of the room by now, as far away from Tony as possible.

Tony would have taken it as offense, if it were not for the waves of wantneedwant that came with the Omegas scent, interlaced with spiced discomfort.

“No need to be afraid. Hey, what’s your name? You’ve had an owner, so you must have a name. Mine’s Tony.”

There’s a pause, and then the blonde turns his head at him. Hazy blue-eyes look at him, pink lips pouting. “Steve. I-” He frowns. “My Ma named me Steven.”

“Okay, Steven. Would you mind if I called you Steve?” Tony asks precariously, the scent goes strong and alive, pulls on his instincts, but Tony’s already made up his mind.

Steve shrugs, frown set.

“Do you have any clothes with you?” Tony questions next.

Steve nods, and then his shoulders droop. “They. Took them.” He motions vaguely, away from him. Tony takes it to mean The Gallery took his clothes.

“I’ll get your clothes back for you.”

He leaves Steve, despite his instincts practically groaning at him for turning his back on the Omega, but Tony has ideas of his own. He hadn’t requested this, this… Drug-induced state of an Omega, and most likely this was some special treat that came from The Gallery itself. In the world of Alpha influence, it was like giving a gift, wrapped up in a nice shiny bow. To accept the gift was always the easiest, but it would be the same as saying that he was indebted to them. To decline however…

That made it all the more interesting.

Tony knocks twice on the door, and the two Betas by the door can’t seem to hide their surprise that he’s still fully-clothed, reeks of Omega-Heat scent but fully-clothed nonetheless. He smirks at their reactions.

“My Omega has told me that you’ve taken his things. I’d like you to get them for me. Now.” He demands, because he can.

The pair glanced at one another, and then one of them nods, and walks off, leaving only one by the door.

When Tony returns to Steve, the Omega hasn’t moved an inch, but remains by the corner of the bed, sweat still beading his skin. “They’ll return your clothes.” Tony assures, catching Steve’s attention. “If there’s anything missing, tell me immediately. Does the drug make it hard to speak?”

Steve nods. “And think.” He adds, he looks much more relaxed than Tony has seen him, but no less guarded. “You bought me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you.”

“Why?”

This time, Tony laughs, though he knows it must be very rude to do so. “You know, a typical Omega wouldn’t ask so many questions. That’s why I want you. You aren’t typical, aren’t you? Just look at you, you’re the most un-Omega Omega I’ve ever seen. So I like you, because you’re different and new.”

It’s moments before Steve’s clothes are returned, the Omega unshackled from the bed, and he doesn’t utter any protest when Tony tells him to get dressed. Or maybe he can’t, Tony’s unsure of the drug’s properties but he can see how slowly Steve moves, like he’s afraid he might trip over his own two feet.

Tony takes him out of the room immediately, uncaring of the Heat-scent that still wafts around Steve. It’s another spit in the face of The Gallery, he hopes, and it’s nice to see Steve blush when heads are turned as they pass, even if it’s just from Betas.

“Mr. Stark!” Jasper calls out, but Tony’s already out by the lobby. “Did you- Did you not like our surprise?” Jasper says, flustered.

“Oh, I liked it very much. It’s quite interesting!” Tony smiles. “To think, there's a drug that can induce an Omega’s heat like that out in the market.” He says, keeps walking, nudging Steve towards the doors.

“Well, err, it isn’t. It’s The Gallery’s personal touch to Omega for V.I.P. patrons, it’s not just available anywhere.” Jasper seems affronted at that part.

“Hmm.”

Unperturbed by Tony’s lack of reaction, Jasper clears his throat and shows Tony a manila envelope. “I have all of your papers ready, Mr. Stark. All of his registrations are right here.”

Tony only takes a slight peek. “Ahh, right. That. I don’t like being handed things.” He says flippantly, and then gestures at Steve instead.

Jasper only nods, all the patience in the world on his face and instead gives the envelope to Steve, who still looks slightly dazed from the drug, but accepts the envelope nonetheless. Tony is quick to usher them out and into his car. He has to help Steve into the passenger side, wary of how the sweet scent makes his legs wobble.

The journey home is only slightly distracting. Tony lowers the hood of the convertible, lets the utter honeytrap of Steve’s scent burst through the New York air. Not that it’s any better but Tony would rather not test his own self-control while he has his hands on the wheel. It’s only when he’s stopped by a traffic light does he notice the shiver in the Omega’s body.

“Cold?”

The baleful look in Steve’s eyes is answer enough.

“Don’t give me that.” He says, shuffling through the back seat and placing a coat on Steve’s lap. “Here. Put this on. We’re going to be spending a lot of time with each other, the least you could do is act friendly for the price I paid.”

He’s not sure with the dim light, but it looked like Steve’s eyes flash for just a moment. There’s a moment of hesitation, the Omega takes the offered jacket and places it on himself, but the drive doesn’t look any more comfortable to him than it had a moment ago, stiff on the leather seats of Tony’s car for the rest of the ride.

His bodyguard greets them both at the door of his condominium.

“Heya kid, had fun tonight?”

“Lots of fun, Brock.”

The scent of Steve must finally reach him, because the Alpha stills, and then narrows in on Tony.

“That’s not- Is it?”

“No.” Tony answers, stifling Brock’s expectations. He’s never brought home an Omegas before. Always Betas, easier to come by. For a good time, whatever that might entail. “Some kind of pheromone. It mimics it from what I can tell.”

“Does a good job at it. It’s just a little… Off.” Brock grunts, but eyes Steve with open distaste than lust. Or was the distaste for the drug? “Never gonna be better than mine though.” The fellow Alpha grins. A running joke between them, every time Tony manages to bring someone home, Brock manages a snide remark about how perfect his Omega.

Tony shakes his head. “Someday, I’m going to meet your oh-so-special Omega and it’ll be disappointing.”

Brock snorts. “Doubt it. My little darling is the prettiest Omega out there.”

“Speaking of being a darling.” Tony rolls his eyes, looking to avoid another round of Brock going on and on about his Omega. “Would you be a dear and wash him off? The scent it’s-”

“I’m not your butler, Tony. I signed up to be a bodyguard, not a nanny.” Brock crosses his arms. “Shit job already. How many times have you been threatened this year?”

Tony shrugs. “Like. Five now?”

“Eight.” Brock grimaces. “And it’s only June..”

“So? You’ve done a great job so far, I’m still safe, aren’t I? And you’re only doing this to scare off Steve.” He waves at the still-staring Omega. Though, if he’s staring because of the way Brock phrases it, or if he’s still seeing rainbows and butterflies because of the drugs, Tony’s not sure. “Anyway, I assume the condo is safe?”

“Perimeter secure, sir.” Brock grunts. “Except ‘ol Richards down on the third has been cooking again, best to avoid the fumes coming from his floor.”

“Ugh. When will Richards give up? He tries something new every week and it always ends up a disaster, christ. Why won’t Susan just break up with him already?”

“I assume it’s because she loves him.” Brock rolls his eyes. “Other than that. Uneventful. Or would you like me to give you a rundown of the entire three hours you’ve been out with the old man?”

“Nah. Get back to me when you’ve got some really juicy gossip.” Tony waves off, jostling Steve into moving, leading him with a hand on his back into the guest bathroom. The Omega goes willingly, steps unsure but doesn’t fight Tony’s direction.

Tony owns the condominium. His name is on the deed, paid by his own money with little help from his dad, who had scoffed at him for making the purchase in the first place. He lives in the penthouse of the seven storey building, and makes some cash by being the landlord. It was convenient. Close to Cornell U. In a quaint neighborhood with other condominiums nestled together, a small grocery within walking distance and decent food around. Howard had only begrudgingly agreed to his stay there so long as he had a bodyguard of Howard’s choice to live with him.

So Tony has Brock Rumlow as a sort-of roommate, who was his driver/bodyguard/chef depending on the situation, who scoffed at rules, maintained an insane gym regimen, made a killer salmon fillet, and had a perfect, loving, beautiful Omega waiting for him somewhere. Apparently.

His own Omega. “Steve.” He says out loud, trying to wrestle him out of his clothes, already unbuttoned the front of his shirt but not much else, difficult with how he doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. “Take off your clothes. Don’t you want to get clean?”

“They cleaned me. At the.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut, as if trying to remember. “There. Before.” He drifts off, staring angrily at the tiles.

Tony sighs. “Yes. They probably did. But you’re sweating out all the pheremones they must have pumped into you. And it’s very distracting. So I’d like it if you could wash it off.”

Steve doesn’t even look at him. “You’d like?”

“Yes. Yes, I’d like it very much.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Steve starts moving, peeling off the shirt, folds it very slowly, and carefully sets it on the counter. He moves to unbutton his pants, but then freezes, and stares weakly at Tony.

“Can you...?” He trails off.

“Are you sure you can take a bath by yourself?”

“Yes.” Steve answers, defiant.

“If you’re sure. Just. Yell if you need anything.” And Tony leaves him.

Chapter Text

Steve stares at the door knob for a good while, listening as the sound of footsteps on wooden floors fade away.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding, and flinches when the arousal melts its way down his spine, feels the wetness between his thighs.

It feels like Heat. But wrong. Different. Difficult. His skin itches, his head hurts, and his insides feel like they’re being churned in slow twists.

He decidedly suffers in silence, stubbornly clenches his jaws shut even as a moan threatens to fight it’s way through his lips. He wrangles off his clothes, winces when his cock juts forth at the removal of his underwear, painfully hard.

Not wanting to lose his nerve, he’s relieved to find the shower is something he recognizes, although he struggles with the temperature a moment, but finally setting to a cold shower once he’s gotten the hang of it. He scrubs with single-mindedness, doesn’t let the slick and strange Heat get to him. He finds that if he focuses strongly enough, he can almost block it out.

Except his cock is still fully hard, probably has been ever since he’d sniffed out that Alpha. Tony, his mind supplies. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a strange Alpha to be sure, though Steve can’t put his finger on why. He doesn’t want to think too much on it, firmly focused on washing himself.

His understanding of tonight’s events are vague at best but… Abraham is gone now. He fights back a sob but it comes loose, gurgling in his throat and bubbling right through his mouth as the sound melds together with the drops of water hitting the floor. He pauses for a moment, hand on the cold tile wall for support, shivers that have nothing to do with the cold water, as he freezes up and let’s the sob work it’s way through his system.

He doesn’t want to cry, but wanting has nothing to do with it. The utter sadness he feels for losing his first Alpha hits him at full force, the knowledge that he’ll never see Abraham again, never seen him dawdle through papers upon papers, walk through the woods, cheerfully chide his students, or even catch him moody and unapproachable during one of his talks on the phone. Those moments are gone and behind him, mere memories of a dead man that Steve will have to keep to himself.

Steve gathers a steadying breath, shudders through the last of the tears and finishes his bath.

Tony. Tony, he thinks. He hadn’t been all there. Not earlier. He remembers being undressed. Being kept in a box. Being lathered and presented, but not much else. There’s a gap somewhere, of bright lights and blurred sounds, and then darkness. And then Tony.

Tony. Tony’s scent. Sweet, strong, tangy, like a Raspberry. Rust, strong on his tongue. Like blood. Smokey, wisps. Like coal. Not bad.

Just.

Different.

Than Abraham’s.

He blinks back the tears and stiffens his muscles. Stop, he tells himself. He thought he’d be ready.

He doesn’t bother getting dressed. The part of him dreads and yet welcomes the next part just to have it over with. Claiming. The Alpha will do it. It’s why he’s had Steve take a bath. Get rid of all the other scents, to leave his own on Steve. And then after Claiming it would…

Another breath, another shudder. He’s still slick. His cock has at least decided to calm down now. How long has passed? He’s not even sure anymore.

He wanders, follows the walls and carpet and sniffs around, towel left behind as well, so he must be dripping water throughout the house. A small amount of spite, he can’t help it.

This room. It smells the most like Tony, he wonders about that. There’s no bed, but there’s a desk, a lounge chair of some sort, scattered items on the floor, papers and folders at seemingly random. Metal and steel, in strange twisted shapes. Steve blinks, and settles himself on the chair.

Yes. Smells like Tony. Still warm. The soft cloth brushes against his bare skin, the curve of his ass fitting snugly as he relaxes on it, the netting of the chair just an afterthought.

He lets his guard down.

“Holy shit, are you naked?!”

Tony. Standing by the door, eyes wide at Steve. Hmm. Steve would have thought that Tony would have preferred to be naked during the Claiming, his mind blurrily processing the proceedings. Tony grabbing his wrist, hauling him up, pushing a blanket at him and when it becomes apparent that Steve doesn’t know what Tony wants him to do with the blanket, drapes it over him and proceeds to push him.

The man is babbling. Excuses, he thinks. His focus still quite isn’t there. He catches words like Silly, Indecent and Omega. Tony is mad at him. Why, Steve can’t tell but he keeps his head low in a submissive gestures and allows himself to be pushed. And then another whiff of strong Alpha pheromones that isn’t Tony. There’s some more arguing, and then he’s being tugged away again, this time with less patience.

Tony seems to have finally caught on that Steve is barely listening to him.

“I asked if he could take a bath, he said yes he could, so I let his little ass be and this is what I get. Oh, no. Tony, you couldn’t just have made sure he was fine, you just had to run off and do your own thing. God those pheromones are strong. Naked Omega with an attitude and-”

“You’re going to claim me, aren’t you?” Steve interrupts when he realizes where they are. Bedroom. Dark. Curtained. Private. Doesn’t smell quite as strongly of the Alpha but Steve notes the scent of new sheets and detergent.

“Eventually.” Tony grumbles. “But you’re all drugged up and incoherent. Don’t tell me otherwise.” He adds when Steve tries to disagree with him, placing a finger on his lips. “So let’s just be shush while we can okay?”

Steve stubbornly interjects. “But. Bedroom.”

“To sleep.” Tony shakes his head. “You know, close your eyes, go night night? Any of this getting through?”

“I thought-”

“You’re very desirable, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t think you’re going to remember much of this in the morning, and frankly I want you to remember every moment when I do claim you because I’m going to put you down on your knees and make you beg me to claim you. It will be because you want it, not because you’ve been drugged to the gills with sex juice and-” The room thrums with intention, and Steve’s eyes can’t help but be drawn to the bed in the middle of it. Tony’s room. It must be. It’s well-kept and decorated.

“This is where you’ll claim me?”

Tony splutters behind him. “What? No?” He sounded unsure himself, Steve catches the sudden gasp of air, the way Tony makes room between them, just a step backwards, away from him. That only confuses Steve.

“You aren’t?”

“Maybe. Someday. I don’t know. Not now. You're really out of it, aren't you.” Is what Tony seems to decide upon, shaking his head with every word and throwing his arms to the side. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re my Omega now, I own you.” He says as if to prove a point. “That’s just. Not part of the plan right now. You should really get dressed, where are your clothes?”

By the end of it, Steve is put into some clothes, Tony anxiously touching him through it. The Alpha shrills a Goodnight at him and closes the door behind him, leaving Steve in the room by himself, laid on the bed as he tries to understand what had just happened.

He’d been so sure that the Alpha would claim him, bite him, mark him, make him his. It’s what he’d expected when they’d brought him to that place, to that stage and showed him to all those hungry eyes. Tony had been no different, he’d seen those eyes when the man had told him he had won, there was hunger there too. He could tell in that small room where he’d been stripped naked and laid there for the Alpha, of what he was meant for.

And yet here he is. Alone.

Everything feels too heavy for him to think, a dull ache at the back of his mind that demands he closes his eyes, wrap himself up in thick blankets that smell faintly of Tony and let everything blur out.

So he does. Dreamlessly sleeps.

When he awakens, there’s light filtering through the curtains, the strange dark-not-dark casting a strange glow to the room. He feels a little better, without the heat burning in his center, enough to look around and remember his circumstance. His throat dries, and then he swallows. Now’s not the time to mope, not when he still did not know the Alpha’s motive for putting him into the room. Was it punishment? Some sick game the Alpha played?

Hunger distracts him, enough to make him curiously peek out of the room and look around the corridors. He remembers the way, somewhat, and explores until he finds the kitchen. It doesn’t take him long to find all the utensils, making breakfast has always been part of his routine. He’s disappointed by the food in the fridge, mostly in boxes, most of it spoiled already, but he manages to find some edible tomatoes and eggs, as well as some bread that he can turn into something at least.

“Ahem.”

He freezes and turns. The Other Alpha, Brock, from last night standing there, eyeing him intensely. He hunches his shoulders, defensive, even while he scrapes off the last of the omelette from the pan and lays them out on the bread.

“So, what’s that you’re making?”

It seems an innocuous enough question, and it doesn’t sound like he’s in any kind of trouble.

“Bread and eggs.”

“You found the cheese, huh?”

“Behind the spices, yes.” Steve answers, plating the rest as he carefully finishes making the sandwiches, and offers them up first to Brock even though he’s starving.

The Alpha raises a brow but doesn’t comment, takes a bite out of the top sandwich, brows rising even further. “Pretty good, kid.” Brock says, before he demolishes the rest of it and goes for another. Steve quietly pushes a glass of orange juice for him as well, before he tucks into his own sandwich, savoring the meal for all it’s worth. He might have made more than enough due to his own hunger, but it’s a nice warm feeling that the Alpha eats so enthusiastically.

He nearly startles when Brock pushes himself up, and heads for the coffee maker. “Boss should nearly be up, better to make his coffee now before he bitches about it. C’mere, I’ll show ya.”

Steve blinks, but follows Brock’s instructions, a certain amount of beans and cocoa, until he’s got the pot to start its drop. “He hates the machine stuff, says it messes with the beans and shit, taste doesn’t come out right.” Brock grumbles, obviously affronted that he’d been lectured about coffee. Not that Steve knows much about coffee, Abraham never liked it, preferred Tea to the roast. He can make out the curious smell of burn and chocolate that fills the kitchen.

No sooner after Steve has poured out a cup, Tony comes stumbling, beady-eyed, seemingly drawn in by the scent of the brew.

“Good morning, how we doing today?” Brock says, grinning.

All Tony offers is a grunt, and moves into the direction of the coffee.

Steve carefully pushes it just into Tony’s fingers. The Alpha makes an ungodly sound at the first sip, before he collapses into the chair and sighs, seemingly drowning himself in the coffee.

“This is normal, get used to it.” Brock barks out a laugh at Steve’s confusion.

“Colluding with my Omega, are you?” Tony gurgles through the coffee, both eyes still closed. Steve wonders how he can even talk around the cup at all. Tony grabs one of the sandwiches, takes a curious bite, and then scarfs it down.

“Just being polite. Happily taken over here. I did get an eyeful last night. Makes an Alpha get self-conscious, y’know? Better hit the gym later to work out all my anxiety after all that.”

A blush blooms on Steve's cheeks, he hunches into his seat and looks pointedly at the table instead, focusing on a crumb that’s fallen off the plate. Tony nods vaguely in Brock’s direction.

“So, how's that big project you’re working on?”

“Terrible, paper’s going horribly. The project though. ” Tony’s eyes light up. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been up to since last night, I’ve added probably another six hundred lines of code and I’m nowhere even close to finishing, and that’s all just algorithm stuff so far, all very situational, I haven’t even started anywhere near the hardware involved and that’ll be another assembly language up in tow-”

“Which means it won’t be done by Tuesday.” Brock quickly interrupts.

Tony takes the pause and frowns. “It’s all very complicated stuff, I can’t just rush it for the sake of passing, you know that.”

“Mmhmm, I just don’t want to get dragged to Starbucks again so that you can bitch and moan about how your Profs don’t understand your genius.”

“Well, they don’t.” Sounds like a touchy subject, and hey, Steve was happy to just stare down at the crumbs until he could start to understand the conversation again.

“Yeah well, you’ve got a deadline, and I assume you’re gonna hide in your workshop for the time being?”

“Exactly. No. Wait. That’s a loaded question. I don’t hide.” Tony hisses.

Brock sighs. “Then go ahead and disappear off into your rabbit hole. I’ll take care of Steve here for the time being.”

There’s a poised moment where Tony blinks and stares at Steve, as if weighing the options that Brock has presented. “Uh, no. He stays.” A note of finality, eyes pointedly looking at Brock as if in challenge.

Brock shrugs it off. “Just so you know, you’re terrible at being an Alpha.” But he grins nonetheless and pushes himself off the table. “I’ll be at the gym if you need me. Keep the doors locked, windows shut, and leave all the cooking to Steve.”

“That was that one time!”

“I counted four times the smoke alarms set off, Tony.”

“It doesn’t count when there’s no actual fire. There was a lot of residual smoke, that was it, that’s to be expected from a chemical reaction. It’s not my fault-”

“I mean it.” Another pointed stare. “Goodbye, Tony.” And Brock is out the door.

Tony huffs, glaring at the door for a moment, before his gaze falls onto Steve. Steve can’t help but turn stiff, shoulders hunched as he waits for his verdict. He still isn’t sure what had just happened, it had felt like a whirlwind and a hurricane had a quick spat and then went their separate ways.

“The nerve of that guy. Telling me what and what not today. Can you believe that?”

“Was I supposed to take your side?” Steve asks. It was expected of an Omega to support his Alpha.

Tony stares at him, a look of surprise. “He means well. Most of the time. No. Uhh. Take whichever side you'd prefer?” Tony lifts his shoulders up and then deflates. “I wasn't kidding though, I'm very busy today. I can't exactly, err, play with you today. Maybe later tonight. We can get the claiming going on just so that you aren't so antsy about it.” Tony adds.

“Yes, of course.” Steve grits out. The sooner it happens the better, wasn't it? Surely it would mean he wouldn't be so quick to toss aside if Tony didn't find him to his liking, the Claiming linking both Alpha and Omega in a mess of hormones. He'd never been claimed by Erksine, the Alpha had never tried, but the man had more than shown his love for Steve. Or at least, Steve has long since consoled himself to that. Erksine had never seemed like he wanted anything more from Steve than his company. Even when Steve had been young, the Doctor had always been kind and patient with him.

Tony nods, unaware of Steve’s thoughts, turns into a shrug. “Yeah well, like Brock said I’ve got things to do now, advancement of technology things. So that. Will be later. In the meantime, make yourself at home.” Tony waves his arms. “You’ve already made yourself comfortable around the kitchen.”

“Just don’t. Break anything.” Tony says in a tone that makes Steve huffs, as if he needs to be told, shoulder hunching up defensively.

“Just a reminder.” Tony shakes his head in some form of apology, but Steve can see a smile play up on his lips as the Alpha turns and heads off to do his project.

Steve scowls, shoulders still wound tight, brows furrowed tight. But he’s alone now, or he can trick himself enough to believe it. Even for just a moment.

Tony yawns despite the coffee, already thinking about getting another within the hour or so, eyes wandering around his workstation until it inevitably lands to his chair, and he shudders.

The Omega-scent has lessened, enough that he can probably tolerate the smell and actually sit in his own chair. He blames Steve and his scent for the eight hours he’s lost in actual productivity. God. It had taken almost his entire will not to pounce on Steve when he’d just sat there, naked and open, blue eyes wide with expectation, pale skin all for the taking.

All yours for the taking, a slithery voice whispered to his ear.

And he could have, if it were not for the glazed eyes, the limp way that the Steve held his legs, like he couldn’t close them if he wanted, the all too obvious reminders that the Omega was drugged beyond his wits, unable to understand more than ’Must please Alpha’. Tony was surprised that Steve hadn’t been pawing at Brock with how handsy he’d been becoming with Tony. Hell, Tony didn’t even think that Steve himself realized just how much he’d been clinging to Tony throughout their journey through the studio, naked thick body pressed tight, almost afraid to be let go.

The look on Steve’s face, the disappointment, the hurt. Just the memory of it stirs some instinctual Alpha reflex in him to want to console him, even now, when he knows that Steve is probably watching TV and browsing through Brock’s Netflix catalog.

His papers come first though. He can’t afford to flunk. In the most technical sense. His scholarship is on the line, and he’ll be damned if that’s another thing for Howard to hover over his head. And as much as his classmates might bully him for taking on a scholarship despite his Father being literally richer than his entire family’s weight in Gold, the prestige and opportunity that comes with graduating with honors and maintaining a perfect grade point average is bar none.

It would get him far. Farther than just money and a name could. Actual credibility, respect, a name for himself rather than one Howard would give him. He wants to stand on his own two feet, with no one to steal his spotlight.

So he works on the paper, not allowing the soft waft of Omega scent to distract him anymore than it should. He forgets his coffee, an idea caught him in between, and he keeps typing, keeps going through references and continues writing until he thinks he’s got a rough draft that doesn’t suck and he can get back to once he’s got a fresh mind. It’s an idea, a business proposal.

He stretches his body, feels the joints pop satisfyingly as his muscles groan, warmth blossoming from his shoulders down to toes, travelling down his spine until he feels fuzzy with exhaustion. A yawn expectantly curls from his tongue, and the hunger he’d been pushing away creeps in, making him feel empty and famished.

Food does sound like a good idea, now that it got into his head.

Curiously. There’s a plate waiting for him, everything set from the food carefully arranged, right down to the empty glass and pitcher of water that sits full.

“Done with the paper?” Brock greets him, looking none worse for wear, predictably going through Netflix like a maniac.

Tony takes a seat. “Getting there. A couple more hours and it’ll be more than acceptable.” He grins, starts going at the food. Admittedly, the chicken and potatoes have gone cold, but the meat is still tender with a hint of zest in it that tastes like lemons and it’s all still very delicious.

“He’s been waiting for you, y’know.”

He shrugs, knowing full well who Brock is hinting at, takes another bite. “He’s going to have to get used to it. You know I’m busy with everything, Hell week is about to-”

“Just look at the time Tony.” Brock sighs.

Irritably, Tony does, checks his phone for the time, and- Woah. He had a bunch of notifications, and it was half past midnight, no wonder the food had gone cold.

“Oops?”

“Told ‘em to just go to bed, cos you were busy and all. He just sat here though, said he’d wait for you.” There’s no disappointment or tone in his voice. Just a report, like always.

“I’ll deal with him tomorrow. Look, I just got caught up-”

“I’m not the one you gotta apologize to.” A tinge of emotion. What, Tony can’t be sure, but it’s closest he’s ever heard of a scolding from Brock.

“Yeah. I know. I’m supposed to be responsible for him. I will be, okay? It’s just the deadline, once it’s over I’ll deal with him at the highest Alpha Level.” Tony grumbles.

He doesn’t have to turn to know that Brock is looking at him, but it’s only a few breaths and the episode that Brock was indulging himself in is turned off. “You done eating? Cos I gotta show you something.”

Throat clenching, Tony shovels the rest of his food into his mouth and drowns it with a glass of water before he’s wiping his mouth with his arm. He hates getting told off, hates it when someone thinks that they’re above him, or that they can give him orders.

But the sight of Steve curled on the sofa makes him pause. He’s not even on the couch, but instead knelt on the rug, knees curled under him, arms clenched around his stomach. It’s only his head that’s leant against the couch, but just barely, tipped down, as if the Omega wanted nothing more than to curl around himself but couldn’t.

“Yeah, he’s been like that for a couple of hours now.”

“You didn’t bother moving him?”

“Do you really want me to touch him?”

Tony glares at him.

Brock smirks. “Didn’t think so. You might be a certified Genius, Tony. But I’ve been an Alpha for longer. I’ve been around Omegas before, I know em. Hell, I’ve been around very aggressive Alphas. Touching someone else’s Omega might as well be a declaration of war. Why d’you think I left early, huh? Felt better, didn’t it?”

It had. Having just Steve with him had helped with the irritation of finding Steve with Brock at the table, but then he’d left Steve on his own again to do his papers.

Brock takes Tony’s silence as confirmation and goes on. “You let him be alone though. I don’t know what he’s been through but that doesn’t look like normal Omega behavior to me. If you’re just gonna-”

“I get it, okay? I fucked up.” Tony huffed. “But what do you want me to do? I can’t look after him for the entire day. I thought that the whole idea of getting an Omega was so that they’d take care of us.”

Brock blinks, eyes turning cold. “You don’t actually believe that. Do you?” A hint of accusation.

Tony isn’t sure where he stands on the whole Omega rights thing. Howard always spoke about Omegas like they were fragile creatures, while Mom barely spoke about them at all. The only Omega he’d ever been close to died years ago.

“I can’t look after him. Not right now. I’ve got school work to worry about.” Tony maintains stubbornly.

“But you don’t like the idea of me alone with him either, do you?” Is a challenge.

Tony growls. No, he doesn’t. That goes unsaid.

Brock lets out a sigh, takes another look at Steve, scratches his head in thought. “I could. Well. I could bring my Omega instead. They can look after each other if that’s fine. He ain’t doing anything tomorrow since it’s Sunday.”

“That is.... Are you sure? You’ve never brought your Omega around before. Sure you talk about him a lot but. I don’t even know his name for starters.”

“I’ll introduce you. Tomorrow.” Decision apparently made. “And it’s nothing personal, he isn’t a very social Omega. Hates people, and hates talking to ‘em. Mostly keeps to himself when he can.” Another look at Steve’s curled form. “But I think he’ll agree when I tell him about Steve. If.” A seeking look at Tony. “If that’s alright with you?” Asking permission, which Tony appreciates.

He bites his lip, looking over at Steve. The Omega curled around himself, discomfort radiating from his position, brows pulls tight even during sleep, lips stretched thin. Brock was right, he couldn’t just leave Steve alone while he was busy, at least someone to keep him company.

“Yeah, okay.” Tony agrees, nodding.

Brock lets out a sigh of relief. “Good. I’ll bring him over for lunch. It'll be a playdate.”

“I’ll get him to his room.” Tony mutters, looking at Steve. He almost wants to just bring Steve over to his own room, but he doesn’t think either of them are really up for that right now. He feels drained, more than he had been when he’d first come down, some invisible weight on his shoulder at the sight of the Omega.

Slowly, he lifts Steve up, the Omega doesn’t even fight back, deadweight over his shoulder. And boy, he almost, almost, calls out to Brock for help, because the Omega feels like he weighs a ton in muscle and it’s no easy feat to carry him piggyback all the way into his room.

“There you go, that’s it.” As gently as possible, he deposits Steve on the bed, who sighs quietly, rubbing his cheek to the pillows. The room has already started to smell like Steve, the sweet alluring scent like the night before, apples and cinnamon, sweet and spice but just enough now, not the overpowering scent that made him want to drown in it and fuck the Omega while he was at it.

Before the temptation can take form, he drapes a thin blanket over Steve’s body and rearranges some pillows around him.

He leaves with a soft click, makes a cup of coffee and scurries back into his lab with the warm cup in hand. He’s determined to finish his paper tonight, one less thing to worry about before he tackles the project that demands his attention, the one that’s preventing him from spending time with his Omega.

Steve surely was a curious thing. His mind wanders after a few minutes to the sheets of paper that dictated the Omega’s life. Steve’s deed of sale, his birth certificate, and other similar certification of training. He hasn’t looked at them, not after that attendant had handed them over to Steve.

He’s curious now of what it might say about Steve.

Birth Name: Steven Grant Rogers
Omega Certificate Number: 198736291
House Registration Number: 00063829

Date of Birth: July 4, 19XX
Time of Birth: 13:43
Place of Birth: New York, United States of America

Litter Size: 1
Birth Sequence: 1

Stud Name: Joseph Rogers
Age of Stud: 36
Orientation: Alpha

Dam Name: Sarah of Kelly
Age of Dam: 24
Orientation: Omega
Lineage: Ceallach Line
Lineage Description: The Ceallach line, more commonly referred to as the Loack line, can be traced to the northern shores of Ireland from where they originate. This line is known for it’s sturdy genome, a consistent output regardless of the stud. Ceallach Omegas can be identified by their light hair, commonly blonde but light brown is also acceptable, and rarely need to be shaved in the legs, arms or chest though this is mostly dependent on the stud. A sharp chin and blue eyes are also common within the breed. Pure Ceallach with compatible studs have the clearest eyes known from any Omega Line, but are also prone to blindness at an early age.

Ceallach Omegas are solitary creatures, quiet and tolerant. They make for great companions, attentive to the needs of their master, but are not fond of outsiders, and may need to be properly socialized with other Omegas. They are intelligent and loyal, it will take some time for a Ceallach Omega to bond with a new Alpha or Beta, but are protective once they have been won over.

Known Marks: One mole above right ass cheek.

It’s basic Omega registration, dates and information neatly displayed in old typewriter font. IDs are attached at the back, a recent picture of Steve, as well as Visas. Tony is surprised to see that Steve has an indefinite Visa for Germany, but nothing else catches his eye. There are the certificates that Steve has acquired over the years, sheafs that represent his learned skills, classes he’s attended to better himself as an Omega.

Basic first aid training, medical assistance, a licence in anaesthesia, a professional caretaker licence. Tony is pretty sure this was all for taking care of Erksine, old age no doubt requiring his Omega to care more and more for him until he bit the dust.

He’s not surprised to find a cooking and baking class along with it, a standard class for Omegas to serve in household duties. And a whole slew of artistic classes that make up an entire bundle all by themselves. Pencil drawing, charcoal, traditional, acrylic, watercolor… They aren’t particularly interesting to Tony but he can tell that Erksine wanted Steve to be artistically forward. Maybe he was the type to have Steve draw or paint him or his friends, something to brag about and for guests to take home. It wasn’t uncommon, Alpha’s get to parade their Omega’s skill in front of guests and say ‘Oh look at my Omega, aren’t they so well behaved and pretty, go ahead dear, perform one of your tricks for us.’ He shuffles through the rest, disinterested.

Then, at the very back is a medical exam, announcing Steve’s condition as of the night Tony bought him. Results are negative of any disease, a clean bill of health all throughout. And at the very end;

BREEDING STATUS: FERTILE. VIRGIN.

It might as well be screaming at Tony. He likes to think that he is about Alpha instinct or whatever other term people use to excuse behavior, but the words VIRGIN make something purr possessively inside of him. The mere knowledge that he’ll be the first to claim Steve (Soon™) is a strange chill throughout his body.

He shuffles all the papers back into the folder, ties it up, throws it over his desk before he gets the compulsion to look through them again.

Steven Grant Rogers.

Steven Grant Stark.

Yeah, that does have a nice ring to it.