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Shaw wipes the beads of sweat off her forehead before slamming her elbow into one of the Russian gangster’s nose. The satisfying crunch and subsequently spray of blood across the concrete floors makes Shaw’s lips quirk into a feral smile. The next assailant who dares gets a dislocated knee for his troubles and a strong bash at the back of his head with Shaw’s favorite USP compact.
As the dust settles around the carnage, Shaw wipes at the blood from her arms and hands; none of it hers.
She licks her teeth, trailing the tip of her tongue along her elongated canines before a whimpering to her side makes her sigh.
She rolls her head to the side, glaring down at the whimpering man clutching his own arm. His eyes widen at her, his face going absolutely pale. Their number. Just another stupid greedy man who bit off more than he could chew.
“Shaw,” Reese says, walking through the downed bodies with his gun drawn. “Taking out your aggression?” He tucks the gun back into his coat. “Thought you were gonna wait for backup.”
“You took too long.” Shaw motions to the number with her still bloody hand. “All yours.”
Reese grabs the number by his arm, ignoring the man’s sniveling and turns around to eye the disaster area. Ten unconscious Russians with more than one broken bone each and a few bullet holes. He raises both his eyebrows at Shaw.
“What?”
“Finch isn’t going to be happy.”
“Whatever,” Shaw says, waving her hand dismissively in the air.
Reese narrows his eyes, his nostrils flaring. The sharp tang under the scent of blood floods his sense. Reese shakes his head, rubbing his nose. He casts her a worried look instead.
She cocks an eyebrow.
He still looks concerned.
Shaw shrugs.
“I’ve got this,” Reese says, motioning to the still terrified number.
Shaw nods, grateful and bows out with a salute.
-
Taking two steps at a time down the stairway to the subway car, Shaw grabs her extra bag of clothing stash and goes to the showers.
“Ms. Shaw?”
Shaw halts, turning to Finch.
He unclips the leash to Bear’s collar and sends Shaw a reprimanding look. “Was it absolutely necessary to break Mr. Henson’s arm?”
“He was in the way, it was either break his arm or let him get shot.”
Finch’s lips thin to a line, he walks closer to her and stops in his tracks. He sniffs the air and blinks. His jaw drops in understanding. "Oh.”
Shaw stares unwavering under his look of worry. “Anything else? I still have to wash blood off me,” she says, gesturing to the caked blood on her skin and clothing.
Finch shakes his head, still in a daze. He keeps a polite distance while Shaw shucks her clothing and turns on the shower. He shakes his head, breaking free of his befuddlement and crosses over to his desk to print out a page of contacts.
Coming back out fresh and clean, Shaw towel dries her hair and sees the pieces of paper Finch holds in his hands. “New number?” she asks.
“No, no new number,” he answers.
“What’s this?” Shaw’s face knits together as she reads through the names and addresses.
“Mr. Reese and I can handle the numbers until after…” he trails off and takes a steadying breath of air, “until after you…after…your…”
The paper crumbles under Shaw’s fist and she hands it back to Finch. “I can take care of it.” Shaw dumps the damp towel on a chair and hoists her bag.
“If you need any assistance Ms. Shaw –“
“Stop right there,” Shaw says, holding a hand out.
Finch gapes. “No no no, I didn’t mean me,” he sputters. “I meant John –“
“Finch.”
“I didn’t mean that either. I meant, the contacts for reputable agencies, should the need arises!”
Shaw shakes her head. “I’ve got it covered Harold.”
Finch nods. “Of course Ms. Shaw, have a pleasant evening.”
Shaw grins, bouncing her eyebrows. “Oh I intend to.”
She leaves him with the tips of his ears burning.
-
Sliding onto the seat at the bar, Shaw already feels the hungry stares as she orders a gin and tonic. Crossing her legs, Shaw takes a sip out of her drink as she leans her forearms on the bar. Within a few seconds, someone else sits next to her, eyeing her up and down like a piece of meat.
Shaw doesn’t spare him a glance, even when he hovers in what is a show of dominance. Her nostrils flare slightly at the pheromones emitted and she very nearly rolls her eyes.
“Not interested,” Shaw says.
He leans in closer and smiles. “You come in smelling like that, lots of Alpha’s are just itching to scoop you right up.”
His hand goes to cover Shaw’s thigh, but she’s faster, pulling back his index finger. He drops to the ground in pain and cries bloody murder.
“You broke my finger!” he wails.
“It’s just sprained.” Shaw rolls her eyes, sipping her drink again. “Pussy,” she mutters.
“You bitch,” he hisses and goes to lunge at her when the sound of a shotgun cocking stops him.
“Out,” says the bartender, aiming it at his head.
The man clenches his fists but has enough brain cells left in his head to make a break for it. The bar goes back into swing, some pointing and whispering behind Shaw’s back. The bartender puts the gun back under the shelf and tilts her head at Shaw.
“Look, I can’t have violence in here.”
Shaw sighs and finishes her drink, dropping a hefty tip for the trouble.
“Wait,” the bartender says. “Let me call you a cab, he might still be out there.” The bartender’s nostrils flare and her eyes flash for a split second. “And your scent…”
“I can take care of myself, thanks.”
Without another word, Shaw walks into the brisk night, skin buzzing in anticipation. She walks past an alley and throws out her fist, breaking the man’s nose as he lunges at her. She doesn’t even look as he drops to the ground crying out in pain. Shaw grins.
-
Arriving home empty handed, Shaw touches the back of her neck, sweaty and warm. She groans and locks up her entire apartment with a single button. No air filtering in or not. She kicks off her heels, stumbling to her fridge and pulling out a bottle of water, draining it all in one go.
“Fuck,” Shaw hisses, taking out a bag of frozen peas and putting it on her overheated skin. She stops dead in her tracks.
A package on her table.
Shaw checks it. No bombs, no sensors, no trackers, nothing. No address, no return address. Just a blank box.
She opens it.
Just a scarf in a ziplocked bag and a note inside the bag. She squeezes it with her hand to better read the writing.
If you need a helping hand.
-R
Shaw shakes her head, rolling her eyes. Root. Of course.
She eyes the scarf, expensive, silk, from Italy if she had to guess. Probably where Root is now, or was.
Shaw bites her inner cheek. She opens the bag and sways against the table. Fuck. The heady scent tumbling out. She rips open the bag and buries her face in it, inhaling deeply.
Alpha pheromones.
Shaw trips over to her couch and spread her legs, one hand still holding the scarf to her nose while the other jams into her jeans, quickly stroking herself. Her head buzzes, unaware of anything but the scent and her fingers working fast against her clit.
Shaw comes, sucking the silk fabric in her mouth.
Her breathing eases out and Shaw falls asleep, her hand still in her jeans and the scarf pressed against her nose.
An hour later, Shaw wakes and sits up on the couch. Shaw grimaces at the wetness inside her pants. She quickly takes off her clothes and goes into the shower. Under the cold spray, Shaw’s head clears.
No more feverish body heat and uncomfortable tightness in her stomach. It helped. Shaw frowns. Nothing like having a good real romp in bed.
Manual stimulation never cleared her head up this fast before.
Shaw sucks in a breath, the hand that held the scarf wipes across her face. She can still smell her. Shaw grits her teeth.
After her shower, Shaw stands in the living room, breathing in the slight smell of Root and glares at the scarf on her couch. Shaw pulls out her lighter and flicks on the flame, looking to the scarf and to the fire. She snaps her lighter shut and puts the scarf back into its scent-proofed bag. Shaw chucks it in the far side of her closet.
-
Finch slides over a small case to her.
Shaw opens it, a wide range of vials line up. “What is it?”
“It may not be up to ISA standards, but I know a few chemists who have tremendous experience with suppressants that are above market standards.”
Shaw nods, shutting the case and slipping it into her coat. “Thanks.”
Finch opens and closes his mouth, trying to find the right words. He squeezes his eyes shut and goes on with it. “You’re an Omega,” he blurts out.
“Good observation Harold, what gave that away?”
“It’s just, your personality…”
Shaw shrugs. She grabs a few guns and tucks them into the back of her pants. “Thanks for the meds Harold, gotta go save a number.”
Finch nods and turns to his computer. He pats Bear’s head and wonders out loud, “An Omega with an Alpha personality…how rare indeed.”
-
At home, Shaw hangs up her coat and puts her gun on the table. She sighs. Another package, this time the note on top of it.
Just in case.
-R
Shaw opens it up and stares, handkerchief this time. She closes the box and tosses it in her closet where the scarf is. Shaw opens up the box of suppressants instead and takes the first vial, injecting herself in the arm.
-
Ducking behind a pillar, Shaw fires off a round of shots at the Brotherhood shooting at her. She hears three pained shouts. Still not enough.
“Back up would be good now John,” Shaw mutters.
A second later, a volley of shots from the window spray on the Brotherhood shooters. Shaw looks to the windows. “Good shot,” she says to Reese.
“That was Lionel,” Reese says onto her comms, “I’m going to pick off a few strays.”
Shaw raises an eyebrow. “Nice shot Lionel.”
“You ain’t the only sharpshooter here,” Fusco says.
Her praise is short-lived.
The Brotherhood gang member shoots at Shaw with his shotgun. Shaw thankfully ducks in time and shoots him in the chest, but not before he shoots off another round, decimating the drugs next to her.
Shaw coughs and wipes at her face.
“You missed one,” Shaw complains. She tries not to breathe in, staring at the white powder on her hands and all around her. “Shit.”
“Shaw?” Reese comes in, tugging Shaw to her feet.
“What is this shit?” Shaw hisses, tugging at the neck of her shirt. She claws at her neck.
Reese takes a taste of the powder and immediately wraps his scarf around his face. “Additives.”
Shaw groans. “Please tell me it’s Alpha additives.”
“You’re burning up,” Reese says, putting his hand on her forehead. “I’m guessing it’s Omega.”
“She okay?” Fusco asks, pulling the car to the curb and opening the door for Shaw and Reese. He stops as Shaw passes him. “Holy shit, she’s an Omega?”
“We have to get her contained,” Reese says, pouring a bottle of water across Shaw’s face and handing her a towel.
“My apartment,” Shaw says, “It’s proofed.”
“You might need a Partner,” Reese says.
Shaw bites her tongue. “I can handle it.”
Shaking his head, Reese checks her racing pulse. “I don’t think you can Shaw, your scent is enough to heel a Beta.”
Shaw narrows her eyes. “Do I need to put you down?”
Reese shakes his head. “Got a shot yesterday. I’m fine, but you on the other hand…”
“She’s gonna need an Alpha,” Fusco says, his head tucked in a gasmask.
Shaw hits the back of her head against the seat. “Yea, probably one on the way already.”
-
Kicking the door shut in Reese’s face, Shaw manages to stumble into her bathroom and go under the shower, fully-clothed. With the powder gone, Shaw breathes just a bit easier and tugs off the rest of her wet clothing. She knocks against the wall going into her bedroom, leaving pools of water under her as she drops onto her bed.
Shaw bites her lip and looks around her empty room. She curses under her breath.
Looking between her closet and her vanity, she goes to the vanity and preps a syringe with the strongest suppressant Finch gave her. Shaw lets it waver in the air, she caps it and puts it back. Instead she goes to her closet and pulls open the box Root left her before.
Holding the handkerchief soaked with Root’s scent to her nose, Shaw’s eyes roll to the back of her head as she drops on her bed. Her hand automatically goes between her legs and rubs slowly. She lets her imagination run, pretty easy with Root’s smell all around her.
Root would no doubt tease her, fingers moving slow against her and that god forsaken smirk as she pulls moans out of Shaw. Attempt to anyways, Shaw’s not a moaner.
Shaw quickens her pace, desperate to reach her first climax.
She’d bite at Root’s shoulder when she comes, teeth marking her. Maybe Root would still be clothed instead and Shaw would break through that leather jacket she always wears.
“Hey Sweetie.”
Shaw’s breath hitches. Just the additives. Making her – Oh.
A hand pulls the handkerchief away from her face and Shaw squints, fingers still working between her legs.
“Hey,” Root says, running a hand along her sweaty hair. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Root?”
“Need a hand?” Root asks, concern-laced rather than innuendo-laced.
Shaw frowns. Where’s the cheeky flirty Root she’s fantasized about? Not that she fantasizes a lot about Root, just sometimes. She’s got eyes and Root’s hot.
Shaw grabs Root’s wrist and pulls it down to her heat. At the first touch, Shaw shuts her eyes and her heels dig into the mattress. Root doesn’t waste any time, circling her clit until she’s just ready and pushing her fingers inside Shaw.
Controlling Root’s movements, Shaw forces her to go faster and harder inside her. Shaw hisses once Root’s thumb comes along and grazes her clit. She comes fast, gripping onto Root’s arm until it bruises.
Shaw inhales deeply, reaching blindly for Root and pulling her down, burying her face in Root’s neck. She nuzzles her nose against the base of her hair where Root’s scent is the strongest. A few calming breaths later, Shaw opens her mouth and latches her teeth onto the flesh, biting down.
Root twitches above her but otherwise doesn’t make any other noise or movement. Shaw releases her at the first taste of Root’s blood and pushes her off.
“Really?” Root puts her hand on her neck and her fingertips come back with blood.
Shaw licks her lips and the tip of her canines. She smirks.
Root shakes her head, sitting at the edge of Shaw’s bed. “Better?”
Taking Root’s hand, Shaw puts it on her chest, letting Root feel her beating heart. Slower than before, but still faster than normal.
“Maybe a few more orgasms will do the trick,” Shaw says, already tugging Root’s hand down her stomach.
“Whatever you need Sameen.”
Shaw takes hold of Root’s waist and drags her on top, her leg going in between Root’s and pressing up. Root wobbles for a second, eyes closing before she pins Shaw’s thigh down and presses her fingers inside and up Shaw. Shaw winds an arm around Root’s neck and pulls her down, breathing in everything that’s Root while Root fucks her fast.
Her thigh strains against Root’s knee, dying to rub between Root’s legs, but Root forces all her weight down. Shaw bites down again, defiant.
Root rubs in just the right spot, circling it while Shaw chokes back a breath. Too late. Root knows. She grins against Shaw and presses down even harder, savoring the twitch of Shaw’s body under her. Teasing it, Root rubs her thumb across Shaw’s clit until Shaw’s hips continually buck up.
Shaw chases after Root’s lips but she expertly avoids her and bites down on Shaw’s neck instead.
Shuddering in the aftermath, Shaw licks her lips, tasting the remnants of Root.
Shaw blearily reaches for Root, the tendrils of sleep already claiming her head.
“Good night Sam,” Root says, sliding in behind Shaw and pulling Shaw’s ass into the crook of her pelvis.
Shaw grumbles and lets Root be the big spoon. Root’s scent and pheromones lull her into sleep, feeling content.
-
Blinking awake, Shaw rolls onto her back and reaches out on her bed, encountering nothing but sheets. She frowns and sits up.
“Root?”
Shaw slips off the bed, legs still wobbly. She goes to her living room and spots Root fully dressed and a few bags on the table.
“Morning Sameen,” Root says without looking up. “Hungry?”
Shaw nods.
Root glances at her and immediately looks back down. “Maybe some clothes would be a good idea.”
Shaw raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you were a prude.”
“Well if you’re okay with crumbs all over you,” Root says. She takes out jug of orange juice and a few croissants.
Shaw drinks fast, tearing off the ham and cheese croissant first, moaning at the delicious taste of melted cheese and butter. “What’s that?” she asks Root, pointing to the case on the table.
Root opens it and pulls out a pre-filled syringe. “This should dull the drugs, you’ll be your perfect self by the end of the day.”
“Where’d you get it?”
Raising an eyebrow, Root answers, “She told me about it.”
Shaw stares at the syringe and back up to Root. She crosses her arms over her chest. “And if I don’t take do it?”
Root tilts her head to the side, listening. “You’ll be craving soon. The sex last night only minimized the effect. You inhaled a gram of Grade-A Omega Additives and an experimental hormone enhancer. Not to mention that your Heat was supposed to be in two days.”
“Cause I planned on getting doused with drugs,” Shaw says.
Root shrugs and pushes the syringe towards Shaw. “Time to take your medicine Doctor Shaw.”
Ignoring her, Shaw pushes Root’s chair back and straddles her lap. She wraps her arms around Root’s neck and grins at Root’s wide eyes.
“What are you doing?” Root asks, hands hovering over Shaw’s hips.
“You.”
Root blinks and regains her composure. “Shaw.”
“What? You can’t just send me your pheromones like that,” Shaw says, thumb circling the bite mark on Root’s neck.
“Maybe I was just being a good teammate.” Root’s eyes flutter shut.
“Sure Root.” Shaw grinds her hips against Root, smirking at her sharp inhale.
Shaw never did take any suppressants for the duration of Root’s visits.