Beg Me Like You Mean It, Captain

If I had just been worried about a potential pregnancy, a standard over-the-counter post-pill would have been enough.

But this wasn’t just about a potential consequence; it was about control. Reid’s Alpha pheromones had saturated my internal system during those continuous knots in Lake Placid, embedding themselves into my biological receptors.

I could feel the terrifying reality of it during the game—my body running on his fuel, my inner Omega growing dangerously dependent on his proximity just to feel whole.

I had survived on high-grade blockers and suppressants for ten years, keeping myself perfectly stable and hidden. I needed to go back to that baseline.

Reid could blackmail me, and he could still have his way with my body behind closed doors, but I refused to let his pheromones bring me down to my knees like a helpless animal every time he walked into a room.

The interceptor pill was my only choice to forcefully flush him out—if I could just survive these twenty-four hours without coming into contact with his scent.

But the price of biological independence was an absolute living hell.

By 2:00 AM, the interceptor was violently purging my system. I spent hours locked in the bathroom, dry-heaving into the toilet until my throat burned, my stomach violently cramping alongside the agonies of diarrhea as the chemical flush forced the foreign cells out.

Worse than the physical illness, though, was the psychological trap. As the medicine ripped Reid’s scent from my receptors, my chemically altered body went into a state of severe withdrawal, screaming for the exact thing it was losing.

A primal, suffocating craving for his frozen pine pheromones hit me, making my skin feel like it was on fire.

I gripped the edge of the sink, shivering violently, but I didn’t touch my phone. I would rather rot on this bathroom floor than call him.

By 4:00 AM, I had managed to drag my weak, trembling body back to bed. I was breaking out in a thick, cold sweat, my vision swimming in a delirious haze as I stared blankly at the ceiling, barely able to lift my arms.

Then, a sudden, heavy knock rattled the front door.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

"Evans! Open the door," Reid’s voice barked through the wood, cutting sharply into the quiet apartment.

I squeezed my eyes shut, panic spiking through my delirium. No. Not now. If he came near me while my receptors were wide open and purging, the exposure to his fresh pheromones would completely ruin the flush, trapping me in his cage forever.

"Go... away, McCoy," I choked out, though it barely carried past the bedroom door. "It’s 4 in the morning, what the hell... is he doing here?"

"Evans, I’m not playing with you," Reid shouted, his voice dropping into a harsh, commanding tone. The heavy thud of his fist hit the door again. "I was at my place, and I got this sudden, suffocating bad feeling out of nowhere. I don’t know what you’re doing in there, but if you don’t open this damn door right now, I’m going to break it down!"

My stubbornness was the only thing keeping me conscious. Gathering the absolute last drop of my grit, I dragged myself out of bed, staggering into the hallway and leaning heavily against the wall.

"Stay the fuck away from me, Reid!" I yelled, my voice sounding frantic, reedy, and completely unraveled.

There was a tense, heavy silence on the other side of the door before Reid spoke again, his tone sharp with genuine confusion and sudden alarm.

"What the hell... Evans? Why do you sound like that?"

When I didn’t answer, the door handle rattled violently, followed by the heavy, solid thud of his shoulder slamming against the frame.

"Fine! I’m breaking it," Reid yelled, the wood groaning under his massive weight. "And just so you know, I’m not covering the goddamn cost of the repairs!"

"Stop!" I gasped, realizing he was absolutely maniacal enough to do it.

I shut my eyes, my hand trembling violently as I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open a fraction of an inch.

The moment the seal broke, Reid pushed his way inside, his towering frame immediately invading my space. But as he stepped closer, his brow furrowed deeply.

His nose twitched, his smoky grey eyes scanning my pale, sweat-slicked face. Because of the purging process, the natural, faint scent of my Omega dynamic was smelling completely distorted, sharp, and chemically altered.

"What is that smell? What did you do?" Reid gritted out, completely ignoring my weak attempt to push him away as he brushed past me.

He marched straight into the kitchen, his sharp eyes tracking the sterile layout until they landed on the counter. There, sitting right next to the empty glass of water, was the metallic, popped-out casing of the heavy silver tablet. An interceptor.

Reid picked up the empty blister pack, staring at it for a long second before a cold, dangerous scoff escaped his lips. He turned around slowly, tossing the plastic casing onto the counter with a sharp click as he walked back toward me.

"Wow, Cap," Reid murmured, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly dark vibration as he looked down at my shivering, fragile frame.

A lazy, incredibly snobbish smirk gradually pulled at his mouth, though his eyes remained fiercely intense.

"You always manage to surprise me. What? You actually thought you could just drug me out of your system?"

I leaned heavily against the doorframe, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the wood just to stay upright. My vision swam, the kitchen lights blurring around his towering silhouette.

"Get out," I forced the words past my dry, cracked lips, my voice lacking any real authority. "You shouldn’t... Be here."

Reid didn’t move an inch. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step closer, closing the distance between us until the heat radiating from his body began to bleed through my clothes.

With his sudden proximity, the sharp, clean scent of frozen pine crashed over my raw, wide-open receptors. It was like pouring gasoline on a fire.