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sarahowritesostucky · 1 month

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📖"Hydra Sanatorium"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word count: 3120

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, enemas, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30), omorashi

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty. Steve's the care worker who's been developing too much of an attachment.

Wait! I think I missed a previous chapter! Series Masterlist

Chapter 7: Pheromonal Oil Massage

Close to an hour later, Bucky’s verbal again, murmuring quietly to Steve about what happened as the alpha massages his body. “I was asleep?” he asks, shivering as Steve’s hands glide all over him. “Oh, mmm.”

Steve’s been rubbing pheromonal oil into his skin while he holds the enema. “Not exactly,” he tells him, sliding his hands over the swell of his bloated belly. “You were awake and moving around. You just don’t remember.”

“Mm.” Bucky’s eyes are closed and he’s scenting very, very relaxed. No surprise really, when he’s been all but drugged up on a bucket of cum. “M’sorry?”

Steve smiles gently, knowing that the kid’s not all the way back in his head yet. “Nothing to apologize for, bub,” he says, rubbing his hands up to Bucky’s chest, where his breast tissue is just barely engorged from the treatment. It’s a good sign, means that the knot triggered his cervix to open and his body thinks he’s pregnant.

But up on the table, Bucky starts to whine and pout, and after three years of working together, Steve knows him well enough to know what’s likely going on in his head. He’s upset that he got caught frantically stimming in a stupor, humping the furniture in a room full of other patients. (Nevermind that that’s exactly what that particular piece of furniture was designed for.)

Steve pets him with comforting, oily fingers. “It was just a physical reaction. Like shock, or an insulin crash. You couldn’t help it any more than you could help a hiccup or a sneeze. And look at you now, huh? It’s all fine. We got you sorted.”

He holds the sides of his swollen belly, cupping the taut shape of it and rubbing up and down. Bucky’s so distended that it’s hard to believe he isn’t pregnant, the shine of the oil only enhancing the curve of how filled out he is and making him look lush and ripe. It’s nothing compared to what would happen if he was actually carrying a pup or two to term, but it’s enough to have Steve’s imagination running wild and his dick straining against his compression underwear.

“Can you tell me how you feel?” he asks, giving Bucky ample time to parse out his feelings and respond. Because while the kid may have his words back, he’s still very much overwhelmed by the physical sensations his body’s going through right now. Steve rubs back up to his chest and circles oiled fingertips all around his breast buds, working the pheromones into the sensitive tissue.

Bucky gasps and his hands fly up to cover Steve’s—not to stop him, but to grab onto where he’s making him feel so good. “Oh, Steve that’s … mmm.” His eyes slip closed, the embarrassed flush on his face spreading all the way to his rosy neck and down to his chest. “I sh-shouldn’t …” he slurs, and Steve rumbles in displeasure.

“Nonsense. Shh. It’s okay. Just let me rub ‘em, Sweetheart. You’re allowed to enjoy it.” Bucky’s nipples are usually flat and the sweetest pale pink color. But with the way his body’s reacting to the treatment, they’ve darkened to a livid hue. Two tempting, puffy swells. Steve can’t resist pulling them up between his fingers and plucking lightly, over and over, bringing them out to their full peaks. “God, Honey,” he whispers, in awe of how beautiful Bucky is. “I love to see you like this. You got no idea.”

He shouldn’t say that. But he can’t help it, not when Bucky responds so positively to it, not when the boy’s features relax and his scent gets aroused and happy. Bucky’s in a really good place mentally right now. The inflation therapy has him calmer and more subdued than Steve’s ever seen him, his body taking to the illusion of a pregnancy like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Steve can’t help imagining what it would be like if Bucky was this at peace all the time, can’t stop thinking about how he could give that to the omega. He could take him home and keep him, become his Alpha and give him the security of a bond, breed him up for real. Steve can feel himself slipping into the fantasy, and he likes the picture it paints in his mind: Bucky, in his home and under his protection, eating his food each day and taking his knot each night. He’d give the boy anything and everything he wanted, buy him gifts and games and all sorts of little things to stim on and keep him occupied during the day, things to fill his time that’d make his life nothing but easy and fun and pleasurable. Steve can’t help how bad he wants it. He’s thought about putting in his resignation for a while now, in a vague way. But he’s been thinking of it in a concrete way ever since Bucky’s belly got fully inflated. Maybe even before that.

Shit, he thinks. He needs to quit this job. Maybe he really could. Leave Hydra and go work with Sam at Shield, or in some other private practice. He could even think about a career switch to something less physically demanding. Maybe get a job at an omega placement agency or day school or something. Bucky might even be able to come to work with him, if he was at a place like that. And wouldn’t that be nice? That way the omega could engage with his peers and pursue his interests. He’d have Steve close by whenever he needed him. Plus, the salary would almost certainly be higher. Along with the government stipends he’d get for having an omega in his household, Steve would surely have enough to care for an omega full time, take a few vacations a year … start a family.

“Steve?” Bucky’s soft voice brings him back to the present. His hands are still on Steve’s wrists and his eyes have slipped closed again at the chest massage. His lips are just slightly upturned, peaceful and blissed out. “D'you think I’m pretty?”

Steve’s stroking falters. He composes himself, but only after about a half dozen filthy answers to the ways in which he finds Bucky’s body “pretty” roll through his head. “Yeah, Buck,” he croaks, voice thick with emotion that he shouldn’t be showing. “I do.” There are so many things he finds beautiful about the boy: his body, his lips, those eyes, his stubbornness and sensitivity, his dark curls … The tempting cleft in his chin that Steve has thought about kissing a thousand thousand times. “Real pretty, Sweetheart,” he reassures. “Just as you should be.”

On an ill-advised whim, he leans down and places a kiss to his belly. It’s not exactly a lewd thing to do, not when he’s already had the kid’s prick in hand and fingers up his ass. But kissing is different. “An unnecessary risk,” was what Christina had called it, back when Steve first started at Hydra and shadowed her for his Support-patient relations training. “Messy,” she’d said. Because it’s crossing an emotional line. A line of intimacy that has less to do with sexual release and more to do with emotional desire. As a Support Alpha, the former is perfectly routine, while the latter is strictly off limits. Kissing isn’t really something Steve should be doing, no matter how innocuous the body part.

He doesn’t care. He does it anyway. He kisses over the taught, shiny skin where Bucky looks pregnant and smells like the fragrant oil. “I think you’re the most beautiful omega I’ve ever seen, Honey,” he whispers.

Bucky smiles with his eyes still closed. “Mmm. You’re just sayin’ that.”

“Am not. It’s true. If you weren’t my patient here, I’d wanna take you home and keep you.”

Bucky whines, responding positively to that assertion. “Mmm. That wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Wouldn’t it?”

He peeks up at Steve through his lashes. “You’re pretty, too. … I always thought so.”

Steve swallows thickly, feeling overly warm. “Thank you, Honey.”

One of Bucky’s hands slides up from the treatment table to touch his belly. He makes a quiet, thoughtful noise. “Feels like I’m actually pregnant,” he slurs, then giggles like he’s drunk. “Mmm. So warm n’ heavy. S’nice.”

Steve hums. “That’s the idea.” He starts massaging a little firmer against the cradle of Bucky’s pelvis, really working the underside of his bloated belly. “Do you want babies?” As soon as it’s out of his mouth, he’s ‘what the fuck’-ing himself in his head. Why did he say that?

But Bucky giggles and squirms up against his touch. “Mmnn, maybe.” His eyes open and he looks down at himself. “Oh,” he whispers, as though he’d forgotten how filled out he is. His hands creep tentatively over the swell of his stomach, feeling it, exploring his own body in a way that makes Steve’s dick fill out a little more in his pants. Bucky spends a few minutes staring at himself, lips parted and eyes glossy, before he finally says, “But … oh. I can’t.”

Steve frowns. “Why can’t you?”

“Cause. I don’t have an Alpha. N’ I couldn’t do it by myself.” Bucky winces and removes his hands from his stomach. “It’d be too hard. If I had a baby they’d just take it away.”

“Hey, no.” Steve tuts sadly. “That’s not true, bub. Single omega mothers aren’t separated from their pups anymore. They’d put you both in a safe place to be cared for.”

“No, that’s not—Ugh! You don’t get it, Steve.”

“Explain it to me, then. Hm? What don’t I get?” Bucky huffs and grunts like a brat, so Steve grabs his wrist and gives it a warning squeeze, rumbling quietly, “Don’t be like that. Use your words.”

Bucky pouts but responds positively to the dominance, squirming as his cheeks color and he forces himself to string a few coherent sentences together. “I don’t want to be ‘cared for’ by people who’re being paid to do it,” he mumbles, refusing to meet Steve’s eyes. “I don’t wanna be in places like this my whole life.”

Steve inhales deeply and absorbs that, thumbing over the back of Bucky’s hand and thinking of the beach scene he’d drawn in art therapy. “Where do you want to be?” Bucky doesn’t answer, and Steve orders him, “Answer me, Sweetheart.”

Bucky sulks some more and shrugs. “I dunno,” he mumbles. “Just want sumthin’ real. Somewhere I belong, not some place I’m only being stuck cause there’s nowhere else. I want a house. With a dog, and a yard, and a nest I don’t have to share with thirty other people.” He keeps his eyes averted, bashful to admit, “... I want an Alpha and pups. A real family. One where you’re together and you have like, Thanksgiving and Christmas n’ stuff.”

Summer beach vacations, Steve thinks, expression pinched as he remembers how Bucky had drawn himself: pregnant, at the beach with his alpha and pup. “You’re upset about your folks,” he says softly.

Bucky grunts and shakes his head. “I just want a real family. Someone to love me. Somebody who doesn’t care that I’m this way. I don’t have any of that. I never did.”

Steve feels lightheaded when he once again finds himself opening up his big, impulsive mouth. “What about me? I’m your Alpha.”

Bucky’s lips thin unhappily. “I mean a for real Alpha, Steve. In the real world. Somebody who’d wanna keep me and who’d … who’d wanna be the daddy.”

He whispers that last bit so dejectedly that Steve completely caves. ‘In for a penny’, and all that. “Well … What if I was the daddy, hm? What if I was your for-real Alpha?” Beneath his hands, he can feel Bucky’s body tensing—which is saying a lot, since he’s so drugged up. Steve licks his lips nervously. “What if I wanted to keep you?”

Bucky looks up at him through sluggish, confused eyes. “What?”

Steve panics, but he can’t back out now. If Bucky doesn’t want to be with him, that’s fine. It’s his right, his choice. Steve’ll have to resign from his job at Hydra regardless, just for propositioning a patient so fucking blatantly. But it’s fine. Steve swallows the lump in his throat and says, “I mean: what if I wasn’t your Support Alpha here, but your real Alpha?” He hesitates, trying to read Bucky’s face for a reaction. “Is that something you’d want?”

It’s hard to gauge exactly what the kid’s thinking as he stares dumbly up at Steve, the synthetic cum in the enema doing its job of knocking him pliant and slow. Steve is already regretting saying anything, because he’s going to have to ask this all over again when Bucky’s clear headed, but his heart still gives an adolescent leap when Bucky’s expression clears with understanding and starts to morph into something like wonder. “What?” he whispers. “You … Really? You’re not just sayin’ that?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, Honey. I’m not. I really mean it. It’s something I’ve thought about before. But you’ve always had your parents pulling you out so soon. And as your Support Alpha, I’m not really supposed to suggest things like this.”

“But you want to,” Bucky says, slowly, as though he needs to test the words out loud in order to make himself believe them. He glances down at his swollen belly, fingers splaying out as he clearly thinks about the reality of what that would mean. “You actually want me?”

Steve’s heart hurts, because Bucky says it like it’s too good of a thing to be true, for someone to genuinely want him. “Yeah, Honey. I want you. More than you know.”

“Well,” Bucky says, still stunned. “Well yeah. I mean, that would be … Yeah.”

Steve forgets to breathe. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Bucky's eyes slip closed on the tail end of a dopey smile. “Geez. You’re always so nice to me, Steve. Mmm. Yeah. I wanna go with you.”

Steve exhales shakily, relieved. He puts his hands back on Bucky to continue the belly massage. “Just relax, Honey. I’ll check in with you about this later, when you’re feeling a little more normal.”

Bucky hums and insists that he’s not going to change his mind.

Steve really hopes that’s true.

He sits next to the colonics bed and helps Bucky through the end of the inflation session. Bucky stays completely draped in several of the blankets from the warming cabinet as Steve coaxes him through the loss of the knot, and then through letting the liquid out, giving him praise and gentle instruction on how to focus on the different parts of his body to make sure that his uterus fully expels.

When it’s over, he’s left pink-faced, about the consistency of an overcooked noodle, and back to humming and chirping more than he uses his words. But it’s in a happy way now, no longer the catatonic stress reaction from before, so Steve is fine with it.

He helps him get dressed, and together they walk down the hall to the soft room. Per Steve’s request, it’s been kept empty of other patients. He immediately checks the thermostat and turns it up a few degrees, lights the prescription aromatherapy candles and sets those aside with a small pile of supplies he thinks he’ll use for their session together. He goes over to the desk and sits, booting up the laptop while Bucky tools around the room.

“Steve?”

“Mmhm?”

“Why do I feel so funny?”

Steve hums, navigating through the files on the computer. “Don’t worry about it, bub. S’just a reaction, remember? It’s natural.” He glances over the screen of the laptop to see Bucky hugging one of the medicated plushies. “You feel a little dopey?”

“Yeah. Mmm.” Bucky smiles and hides his face in the plushie’s fur. “Dopey.”

“That’s okay. It’s normal. You took a lot of pheromones in your tummy, remember?” He very pointedly does not say ‘cum’. “You held it for a long time. That’s what’s making you feel loopy.”

“Oh yeah,” Bucky says, distracted, then sighs happily as if he’s just regained the memory of all that went on in the bathroom. Steve genuinely believes that his recall of the past two hours is blurry at best. “Right. You said you would keep me,” he says. “And I could …”

“Yeah, Honey.” Another glance upwards and Steve sees the plushie abandoned on the floor. Bucky’s sliding his hands over his stomach, looking down at himself thoughtfully. He bites his lip and lifts the edge of his shirt up, baring a few inches of where his belly is flat once again. His right hand idly scritches over that stretch of skin and he makes a happy little sound without seeming to realize he’s doing it.

A wave of yearning smacks Steve in the face at witnessing it, threatening to pull him under the weight of his own emotions. Bucky’s diapered and dressed again by now, back in the sensory-friendly microfiber clothes that all patients on ward are given to wear. Ever since Steve first saw him dragged into Hydra at sixteen, Bucky has always chosen the navy sets of clothes rather than anything colorful or patterned like omegas are typically drawn to. After the inflation session when he was pliant and happy and defenseless, he’d asked for yellow.

“I like it when you call me that,” Bucky murmurs, smiling down at where he’s stroking his own skin.

“Mm?” Steve looks back at the computer screen, navigating through the various tracks of ASMR, trying to pick out one that he thinks will suit Bucky. “Call you what, bub?” Bucky’s response is to purr deep in his throat and say, ‘yeah, that’ in a dreamy voice, which gives Steve his answer. “Oh, right.” He chuckles, chest feeling warm like he’s just downed a shot of whiskey. Bub. He’s been calling Bucky that since the very beginning, ever since he’d first been dragged on-ward: angry, scared, and needing somebody to love him. The nickname happened organically. Steve had just blurted it out one day and never stopped.

It’s … not really something he’s ever done with any of his other patients. His smile wavers as he thinks about how he’s going to have to ask Bucky the same serious questions all over again, once he’s sobered up from this. Steve thinks that he'll still say yes. He hopes he will. Aside from wanting it so badly himself, he genuinely believes that it’ll be in Bucky’s best interest to come home with him and be his bonded omega. Better than any alternative the kid is likely to find.

And Steve feels positively elated when he imagines how nice it'll be, taking Bucky into his home and getting him acclimated, making him feel safe and taken care of, bonding him while making love to him for the first time ...

Grunting, Steve forces his attention back to the computer, sparing only a breif second to grind the hell of his hand punishingly against his dick. He can't think about all that now, not if he wants to get through this with his professional integrity intact.

Steve may have made up his mind to quit Hydra, but he still has a job to do for the time being, and that’s to take care of Bucky the way he needs. He finds the specific audio track he wants and sends it through to the room’s system, then closes out the laptop.

"Okay bub," he says, pushing out from the desk and standing. "Time to come down nice and gentle from your high."

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