Chapter Text
Everyone in the recalled Overwatch knew not to ask about it.
Angela was exceptionally strict when it came to making sure everyone was on the proper suppressants or blockers, including herself. Even in the rare periods where she had to go off of them so her body would not overly stress itself, the combination of earrings she wore were an explicit signal.
Not disclosing, using contraceptives / suppressants, not seeking a partner for relief or bonding.
A very few people who knew her history had theories about what - or who - Dr. Ziegler might have done in the past. Who she might have sought out, once.
Would she still?
Even Lena wasn’t brash enough to ask, and everyone knew who she went looking for when she needed to go into her rut.
All they could do was wonder.
Angela knew everyone wondered about her, of course. She wasn’t deaf , after all, and people like Jesse and Hana weren’t terribly quiet when they whispered behind her back.
She didn’t answer, of course. But she had reasons for that.
Not the least that despite the risks, she hadn’t actually stopped taking her suppressants in more than five years.
She simply took her expected leave twice a year, often flying back to check on some of the refugee camps and cities she’d worked in with Médecins Sans Frontières. They could always use an extra pair of hands, and she appreciated the chance to visit and see her former patients doing well.
This time...this was different.
The MSF camp in Tikrit was closing. The refugee situation there had finally improved to where most had been able to return home and rebuild.
She was happy for them, and glad it was one less part of the world wracked by devastation, but it meant she would be losing an opportunity to visit the nearby Oasis now and then.
Losing the chance to do what she desperately wanted after so long.
So she had left Tikrit after the briefest of visits, traveling to Oasis on a special visa she’d kept in her kit for years but never used.
After the chartered flight had landed, she visited the bathroom just past the arrivals gate.
She settled into a stall and pulled the antagonist capsule from her bag, swallowing it dry so it would hit her empty stomach and be distributed quickly through her bloodstream.
Angela could almost swear she felt a tingle of fever as she left the stall, but it was almost certainly psychosomatic. The hormonal changes would take more time than that, even if her body was working hard to counteract so many years of denying her own biology.
Her reflection certainly didn’t look out of the ordinary. No sheen of sweat, no blown pupils, nothing to give her away.
Angela nodded with satisfaction, then began changing her earrings for the set she normally kept in her office safe.
Not disclosing, already in a partnership, do not approach.
There was a cab and driver waiting for her outside of baggage claim.
She knew her “host” had already given the driver instructions, and Angela wasn’t surprised to see it was an omnic chauffeur. Why take chances, after all?
When they arrived at a luxury apartment building, the chauffeur removed her single bag from the trunk and offered her a black and gold embossed keycard.
She’d thanked him for his help and offered a tip (which he refused, to her vague chagrin), then let herself into the lobby with a swipe of the card.
The empty lobby had a floor decorated with a beautiful mosaic of tiles, and a bank of elevators along one wall.
The leftmost elevator lit up, the doors opening as she approached, and as soon as she swiped her card on the reader the doors slid shut and the car began to rise towards the top floor.
The entire floor was given over to a single residence, the elevator opening into a tastefully decorated but relatively spartan living room and kitchen.
Her host didn’t entertain a great deal here, and anyone who made it this far knew it.
The only item that seemed out of place was an old brown leather couch, the well oiled upholstery worn buttery soft, and Angela gave a happy sigh as she settled down onto it, kicking off her shoes before she rubbed her aching feet.
I knew she’d never leave this old thing behind, and a good thing, too.
The couch had been her favorite piece of furniture from the old townhouse in Dublin. A much loved and incredibly comfortable heirloom, where they’d spent hours talking, touching, and…
Angela suddenly felt as if the room had gotten several degrees warmer as she remembered the last thing they’d done on this very couch.
She had come to Dublin in the wake of the Venice debacle, once the hearings, censures, and recriminations had died down.
Moira had been so upset, and rightly so. She’d felt hurt and betrayed, her work taken from her, her trust abused as she was made the scapegoat for everything that had happened.
She hadn’t even wanted to see Angela at first, but she’d been very persistent, and once they’d talked through some of their equally bruised feelings, there had been one thing Angela could give her. One trust that she would not - could not - ever break.
Her fingers wandered of their own accord to the collar of her blouse, undoing the top buttons until they could stroke the well healed claiming mark at the side of her neck, tracing the little scar that she ordinarily kept concealed with the underglove of her Valkyrie suit or carefully chosen tops.
Angela shivered at the feeling of the bumpy scar tissue under her fingertips, the memory of receiving it so vivid in her mind. Her eyes slid closed as she let out a little groan of need, and the part of her that would always be a clinician was impressed at how quickly the antagonist had taken effect.
A little gnawing ache was just beginning to make itself known in the pit of her stomach. A hunger she hadn’t felt in some time, but she knew could only be sated by one thing.
Hot breath against her ear as their bodies pressed together, her hips pinned against the arm of the couch as she tried to roll them. Looking for friction, looking for her to go deeper, looking for more.
A soft laugh despite the roughness she’d taken her with. A teasing nip to her shoulder as long fingers squeezed and kneaded her sides.
“So eager…I thought you wanted us to take our time.”
“I swear to God if you don’t knot me soon I will pin you to the floor and do it myself!”
“I might enjoy that later, but I suppose it’s best to be done properly, mm?”
She had started to pinch and tease her breasts through the silk of her top, the nipples growing hard and so, so sensitive.
Angela shuddered as she tried to force herself to have some self control, her hands closing into fists as she put them to her sides.
She’d known it would be intense, after so long on both suppressants and the pill, but hadn’t expected such a rapid onset. Had it only been two hours since she had administered the antagonist? A normal patient wouldn’t show signs of estrus for at least forty-eight.
A normal patient would be allowing themselves to have a proper cycle at least every six months.
Five years, she chided herself. Five long, long years.
It hadn’t been a conscious choice at first. She’d simply been too busy to take a break, and certainly too occupied to sequester herself for several days.
She wouldn’t have sought another partner, which meant it would have taken the better part of a week before she would have been able to return to work safely, and that was unacceptable.
She had nothing against those who did seek anyone available in their time of need, or those who had several regular partners, but it wasn’t how she cared to handle her affairs.
So she had simply kept up her suppressant doses, and prescribed herself a fresh round of birth control. When she’d reached a year, she had considered reaching out to Moira, but the founding of Oasis was consuming her attention, and MSF asked if she could assist with helping the victims of a massive earthquake in Antigua.
Once Angela had realized she could manage on her suppressant dosages, she’d “consulted” by email with her old colleague and they had quickly agreed to maintain their status quo until circumstances allowed them to share a cycle properly again.
And then Moira had joined Talon, and they didn’t speak for more than a year and a half.
Angela had considered taking another partner during that time. She really had. But when she thought about that drive, that wit, that remarkable mind...no. No one else compared, really.
Their ethics might clash on a regular basis, but it did nothing to reduce Angela’s desire to remain mated to Moira O’Deorain.
She forced herself to shake free of her memories and walked from the couch to the kitchen, spotting a note that had been pinned to the refrigerator.
That cramped, narrow handwriting shaped by years of scribbling on lab sheets and workbooks, barely legible without years of practice.
I’ve timed my dose of antagonist for a half hour after your flight lands. I have business that requires me to remain at the office for the afternoon, but I will be there swiftly once it has concluded.
It never ceased to amuse her how carefully Moira spoke, how she wrote with such deliberate phrasing.
It never ceased to delight her when she could reduce her to guttural exclamations and swearing, the rough Dubliner accent thickening with every word.
With such a short flight Angela didn’t really have to worry about jet lag, but she decided to drink a bit of water to rehydrate before laying down for a brief nap.
She discovered Moira had brought her old bed from Dublin, too.
It smelled like her, of whiskey and sharp smoke, but with an antiseptic sort of tang that must have been from her own cocktail of suppressors and scent blockers.
Angela stripped down (oh, how good it felt to be naked in this bed again) and settled in for a nap, breathing in the scents of her with a happy sigh.
She did her best to keep her hands from wandering, but the silky sheets felt so cool against her too-warm skin, the little ripples of pleasure as she slid against them just enough to help her enjoy a pleasant dream instead of frantic need.
She didn’t even realize someone had joined her on the bed until she realized the antiseptic tang had gone, replaced with a thick, musky, almost mossy smell. A scent that made the wetness between her legs grow, that made her whole body tingle in need.
“What a lovely present,” Moira purred, her hands rubbing in slow circles on Angela’s back that felt so good . “I hope I haven’t kept you wanting long, a rúnsearc.”
“Five years,” Angela moaned as Moira continued her attentions. “I want more than a back rub, Moira.”
“Oh, so do I, angel.” Moira’s hands were wonderfully strong and sure as she took her by the side and rolled her over, giving her a good look at last.
Her eyes went to Moira’s ears by reflex, and what she saw made her smile.
Not disclosing, unavailable.
“You took off the suppressant studs,” Angela observed happily.
“So did you,” Moira observed. One of her cyanotic fingers reached out to stroke the shell of her ear, making Angela sigh happily. “Do you wear the partnership ones often?”
“Just for you,” Angela said huskily, and her fingers slid up the sides of the close fitting trousers that Moira wore as part of her Minister’s garb. “Always for you.”
“I shall have to get a pair myself,” Moira murmured as she drew closer, her cool demeanor breaking with a shudder when Angela cupped the obvious bulge she found at her crotch. “Just for you.”
“Just for me,” Angela repeated as she rose up from the bed, kissing her fiercely. She sighed happily into the kiss as Moira began to knead her backside, pressing into her with an encouraging growl as she tried to figure out how to get the damned ornate robes off.
Moira’s chuckle filled her ears, and Angela realized she must have said that out loud.
“Patience, lovely. Patience…” Moira nipped the side of her neck, teasingly close to where she’d claimed her. “Good things come to those who wait.”
Angela shuddered, feeling more and more slickness between her thighs. “I think...we’ve both waited long enough.” The neck of Moira’s robe had opened enough for Angela to see a hint of pink - the edge of her own claiming mark, that she’d left at the peak of her heat as Moira had rutted against her.
She bent in, pushing the fabric aside so she could taste the pale skin, kissing and nipping until she found the scar with her lips and sucked hard, delighting in the way Moira gasped and shook against her.
“Angela!”
She gave one last lick over her re-emphasized claim before pushing back just enough to look up into Moira’s eyes, loving the way she’d clearly affected her. “Do you appreciate my position now, Doctor O’Deorain?”
Moira licked her lips, her throat working a moment before she could speak. “I’m beginning to, yes, Doctor Ziegler.”
“Then get your fucking clothes off,” Angela growled as she ground her hips against that nice firm bulge.
“You,” Moira gasped as she thrust back hard, then pushed her down to the bed so she could start tugging herself out of her regalia. “Are the most aggressive Omega I have ever heard of.”
“I certainly am," Angela agreed as she began to tease her breast again. “Particularly when it comes to you.”
Moira finally had her top off, the mark at her neck already a ruddy bruise, looking at her with undisguised lust as she unclasped her belt and started pushing the trousers to the floor. “Ah yes,” she said with a delighted smile. “Lucky me.”
“You…” Angela shuddered as she dipped a finger between her legs. God, she was ready. “You certainly are.”
Moira stopped undressing, standing in her bra, obscenely tented boxers, and socks, looking at her with obvious concern despite her urge. “You know this will not be gentle. Not the first. Not after so long.”
Angela laughed with sharp edged amusement as she stood and crossed the gap, palming Moira’s petite breasts through the plain black sports bra. “Do I look like I want gentle?”
Moira gave a little hiss of pleasure and anticipation, then stepped into her space, filling Angela’s nose with the scent of her rut even as she knew her own pheromones would be overwhelming whatever remnants of Moira’s suppressants that might have lingered in her blood.
“No,” Moira whispered as she pushed, hard, and Angela felt her back hit the bedroom wall. “No, you don’t.”
Angela whimpered with need, her fingers snaking down into Moira’s boxers and fisting around her cock. She could feel the beginnings of the knot at Moira’s base, the delicious hot thickness of her as Moira throbbed in her hand.
“I need...need,” Angela murmured as Moira began her own assault of kisses, bites, and licks. Shuddering and arching into her as Moira left new marks on her skin, reacquainting herself again.
“I know what you need,” Moira murmured in her ear, and Angela would swear she nearly came from that alone, her whole body throbbing in response.
“Yes, but…” Angela struggled to focus as she pushed the boxers down at last, that perfect cock springing free, ready to find its way at last. “Need to tell. Need to tell you!”
That made Moira back up a bit, her rational mind still just in control enough to look at her in concern. “What is it, angel? Is something wrong?”
“Not wrong,” Angela panted. “Different.” She took a deep breath, collecting herself, making herself stop stroking Moira’s lovely cock that she wanted inside of her right now. “ Didn’t just stop suppressors...antagonist stopped...birth control…”
“You’re not just in heat, then,” Moira murmured in realization. “You’re truly ovulating. A full estrus cycle.” Her eyes were bright with excitement, though her voice was still full of concern. “You’re sure, then?”
“I am tired of waiting for the right moment,” Angela said firmly. “I have more than enough money and time to devote to this. To us.” She met Moira’s eyes, hoping she could communicate how deeply she wanted this. “Five years, Moira. Neither of us is getting any younger.”
“That’s true,” Moira admitted as she came closer again. “But...with me, lover?”
“I have only ever wanted you,” Angela insisted, and pulled her into a desperate kiss.
That pushed whatever remaining hesitation Moira had away, and before Angela could catch her breath she was being slammed against the wall again, her hips rising to wrap her legs around Moira’s slim waist as Moira sunk deep into her waiting embrace.
“Fuck, Angela!”
“That,” Angela panted as she finally felt herself being filled, her hips rocking against Moira’s thrusts as she helped them find a rhythm. “Was. The. Idea!”
“Oh,” Moira promised as she set her feet, “You’ll get it alright.” Her thrusts were rougher now as she found the pace they both needed, hard and deep as her lean frame could power them.
“Yessss," Angela hissed as her shoulders slammed hard into the wall. She’d have bruises tomorrow but she didn’t care. She wanted this, wanted it now, wanted more more more more. “Everything! Give...give me everything,” she gasped, and shuddered as Moira bit hard into her neck, marking her again as her thrust hit just the right spot, and her orgasm made her gush, wet and hot all over them both.
Moira groaned as Angela’s slick coated her, her lover - her mate, HER mate - shivering against her as she guided her through that first climax as well as she could. Her knot was growing heavy, fully in the grip of her rut as the smell of Angela’s sex drove her on, her hips moving of their own accord as she pushed hard into her, Angela taking every bit of it and begging for more.
“I can’t...stop myself...from knotting you,” Moira gasped and grunted into her ear. Angela nodded against her, letting out a truly pornographic moan at the thought.
“Going to cum,” Moira said, her accent turning it into a low growl. “I’m going t’ fill you up with pups!”
“Yes, Moira, please, bitte,” Angela pleaded, almost swallowing the knot on her next thrust, and Moira’s cock throbbed hard inside her, desperate to do the deed.
“Yours, yours, yours,” Moira groaned as she thrust as hard and deep as she could, feeling the knot slide home as Angela’s walls clenched down on it. She kept thrusting, kept rutting, kept moving as much as their joining would allow, until the pressure became unendurable, and she screamed out her pleasure as she finally came, pumping pulse after pulse of herself as Angela clung to her, vaguely aware of her walls fluttering and clenching with another climax of her own, urging more and more out of her until Moira's legs began to wobble and give out.
“Down!” Moira gasped as she pulled Angela into her, not wanting to risk dislodging herself as she brought them both onto the floor as gently as she could.
“Down,” Angela agreed, her voice blissfully exhausted as she shuddered with another aftershock of pleasure, squeezing and gripping as she worked every drop she could from the knot. “Oh, Moira...oh süsse …”
“Mmm,” Moira hummed in agreement, pressing kisses to her sweat-slick forehead. “Worth the wait…?”
Angela smiled as she managed a little wriggle of her hips, making Moira gasp and shiver. “I think that remains to be seen...but I am sure you’ll make it up to me.”
“We do have all week,” Moira agreed. “But something tells me we’ll know for sure in...say…nine months?”
“It’s a little optimistic to assume I will catch on the first attempt,” Angela said with a euphoric giggle, cuddling in as close as their bodies would allow. “But that just means we should try as much as possible while I’m here.”
Moira gave her a soft smile, one that Angela was sure most of her colleagues in Oasis and Talon would not have thought possible. “She’ll be beautiful, and brilliant.”
“Yes,” Angela agreed as she began to fade, the sound of Moira’s heartbeat against her ear luring her into a nap. “She will.”