Spy Wolf 4 (Patreon)

2024

“Don’t!” Yelena insisted, the same way she’d been chiding Kate seemingly all night, but now she really seemed to be out of patience, pulling Kate away from the elevator panel by the dress.

The dress didn’t survive the combination of Kate’s stubbornness and Yelena’s vehemence. It ripped away, revealing… not much of anything. And, for not the first time, Kate wished she had enough boobs to justify wearing a bra.

She covered herself with her hands, which seemed to both satisfy Yelena—since Kate wasn’t reaching for the buttons anymore—and irk her. Her eyes kept tracing over Kate’s hidden chest like she expected at any moment that Kate would rectify the oversight of hiding herself from her.

“Were you supposed to be wearing costume under that?”

“No,” Kate said, not feeling like getting into why her costume was at the cleaners.

As it turned out, feeding a dog pizza wasn’t great for the canine gastronomical system.

“Well, it is just us girls, so what are you hiding for?” Yelena teased, actually batting her eyelashes at Kate. “Big strong alpha worried I will see her tits?”

“You haven’t taken an inhibitor, have you?” Kate asked.

“I told you, I am not taking anything that messes with head.”

Kate groaned inwardly. “You know what it does to an omega’s head to be in heat and not be on an inhibitor? Or, you know…”

“That is alpha propaganda, I do not need inhibitor, I am perfectly rational actor—”

Kate dropped her hands.

Her breasts were small but sweetly formed, the nipples thick, surging out with arousal that Kate wasn’t shy about showing. She knew Yelena was much more affected than she was.

In fact, Kate felt a swell of pride at how Yelena stared at the dark rose-red nipples. She vindictively took a deep breath that shook her tits nicely, with an all-over tautness that was pure youth.

“I like this,” Yelena announced, and reached out to trace her fingertips over the sensual little swell to Kate’s belly where it rolled down into the darkness of her pubic thatch. Which, thank God, the shredded dress still managed to cover.

Kate resisted the urge to slap Yelena’s hand away. She let the Russian realize what she was doing and snatch her hand back.

Like a character in a movie whose DVD was smudged, she tried to turn away, then paused—not wanting to break line of sight with Kate’s nudity—almost turned back, almost turned away, repeat and repeat. It amused Kate; at the same time she felt sorry for Yelena.

She hadn’t asked to be introduced to her biology at this breakneck pace, her own body no longer making sense, her newborn independence suddenly compromised in a way she hadn’t been prepared for at all.

Most omegas had time to get used to their status, come to like it, even look forward to their heats and the greater intimacy it would bring with their alphas. This had all been dumped on Yelena like some wizard had cast a spell. It must’ve seemed like a curse…

Kate stepped closer to Yelena—close enough that Yelena could look her in the eye and almost ignore the nudity down out of sight.

Yelena was less than grateful. “Still haven’t remembered to take your suppressant, Kate Bishop?” she snapped.

“I did,” Kate told her. “This is me at, like, ten percent alpha.”

Yelena darkened even further. Like a normal storm cloud to a hurricane. As irritated as Yelena had gotten with her, Kate didn’t think she’d ever been truly angry before now. Hell, maybe she thought she could block out the heat with her rage.

“Then why is it worse than before?” she demanded.

“Because that’s how it works. The heat gets worse and worse until you either take an inhibitor, find an alpha, or… it passes.”

“Then I will wait,” Yelena said stonily. “And kill Barton, obviously.”

That reminded Kate. They were still in an elevator going down, on the way to the twelfth floor where Yelena was about to kill Kate’s new mentor. And all he’d been able to teach her so far was ‘don’t feed that dog too much pizza.’

And she’d figured that out herself trying to explain why she needed a catsuit dry-cleaned as soon as possible.

(“Got an omega waiting for you, huh?” actually had been the reason, partly, but not like that.)

“No wonder you’re being such a—” Kate coughed, Yelena’s look cutting off that thought. “Yelena, you’re not thinking clearly. It’s the heat, it’s affecting your mind. You don’t really want to kill Clint, you’re just—”

“Horny? Don’t be absurd, Kate Bishop.”

In the few minutes they’d been talking, the elevator car had filled with Yelena’s scent and Kate’s musk, mingling, intermixing, locking together until they were an impenetrable combination. It made Kate restless, even through her suppressant. There was something inside her gnawing and aching and boiling, so close to the surface she felt embarrassed, sure that it showed.

It was hard to take her hot eyes off of Yelena. She wondered if the other girl could smell the thick spice of her need, sense the wet itch between her legs… she knew Yelena must’ve seen how stingingly erect her nipples were, in the brief glimpse she’d allowed herself of them.

“Do you really want to take that chance? Clint was Natasha’s best friend, Yelena. She trusted him with her life. Do you think she was wrong?”

“She’s not alive, so yes, I—” Yelena broke off. Not used to badmouthing her sister.

Maybe wondering why it was she was so angry she was even taking it out on the memory of the woman she was doing all this for.

Kate persisted: “What if your heat passes and you change your mind? You’d have made it so that Natasha’s legacy is the senseless murder of an Avenger. Is that what you want for the Romanoff family name?”

Yelena’s eyes shot to her. “We are not named Romanoff, that is not even proper Russian patronym. But you make point.”

“Thanks.”

“Not good point, but—”

Kate took a step closer to her, barely noticing that her nipples brushed against Yelena’s Burberry coat. “This could all just be a misunderstanding. You could settle it by talking to Clint, by actually getting to know him. Deescalate the situation instead of just being an assassin, that’s what Natasha would’ve—”

Yelena craned her head up and kissed the taller woman’s chin. Her hands came up and ran over Kate’s shoulders, her biceps, squeezing into the firm muscle there. Her every act was slow and tentative, even fumbling—something Kate never would’ve associated with the confident spy.

Her touch made an uncertain way to Kate’s throat; fingers approaching Kate’s face like it was a holy relic she was hesitant to touch. She turned Kate’s head downward with fleeting contact, until Kate’s lips were in position for a lingering kiss.

“Блин, you are too tall,” Yelena said grudgingly. “I shouldn’t be doing this, not when Natasha is dead and Barton and, and…”

“It’s okay,” Kate reassured her, kissing her on the forehead. “You need to take a breath. That’s all this is. Just a breath.”

Yelena looked up at her, a film of warm tears over her eyes, unasked questions shifting her expression from despondence to need to something close to desire. Without really knowing why, Kate pressed her lips to Yelena’s closed eyelids, mopping up the barely shed tears with her lips, then removing them from her damp cheeks.

“How do you feel?” Kate asked.

“Better… better… headache not so bad… you know what to do now?”

“Do you want me to?”

“My body… maybe I should try listening to body instead of to rage?”

“We can stop if you want to.”

Yelena snorted in an attempt at a laugh. “Bet that’s what you want—then you don’t have to admit not knowing what you are doing.”

Kate shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing… and I don’t want to stop. Not until you’re feeling so good that… I don’t know… you use an article in a sentence.”

Yelena smirked. “Never will I do this, Kate Bishop. Well, you are big bad alpha—what is nasty thing you are wanting to do with poor innocent omega who needs headache gone away?”

Truthfully, Kate had no idea. Very little idea, at least. She’d seen movies, of course. Romances with male alphas and female omegas. Comedies with female alphas and male omegas. A few indie films with omegas and omegas or alphas and alphas.

Once in her life she’d downloaded a video that purported to show a female alpha with a female omega, but she hadn’t needed to smell anything to know it was almost certainly two betas play-acting.

Still, she’d quickly deleted the video and evinced a total disregard for the computer for the following week, saying books were so much more interesting.

But what she figured was that what a female omega liked from a male alpha would be pretty much from a female omega liked from a female alpha. It was Yelena she was concerned about anyway, making her feel good, so as long as it worked for her…