[ It's been brewing for a while, and by the time Sylvie's able to identify what's happening to her, it's much too late to do anything about it. Her saving grace is the absence of others - while not normally someone to balk at taking what she needs to scratch an itch, Sylvie cannot recall when exactly she'd gone into a heat last, and has no desire to be at the mercy of others, much less those who consider themselves entitled to omega heats. She's been on some form of blocker and suppressant for so long, though, that she didn't even know this could still happen to her. And suffice to say, she doesn't understand how it's happening now, either.
That is, she has no clue until the scent hits her.
And just like that, she's home. The strange comfort of ozone and petrichor undercut by something sweet. And she knows she shouldn't find that as irresistable as she does, that she's not who this scent was designed to attract and lure in. And yet in the intensity of their time together, Sylvie cannot deny that she's grown oh so very fond of it, that something feral and unsettled in her had felt so soothed for the first time in centuries in his presence.
Of course, just her luck that she is just about the only creature in existence he could have picked who is unable to give him what he needs and deserves. Sylvie has no illusions about Omegas not being more than just capable - here she is, after all, and does she not have most people fooled just based on how she carries herself?
But she never told Loki that it's just an act, that it's just survival. That all Lokis are omega because all Lokis were designed to hate themselves, to feel othered in as many ways as possible.
And now, here... She turns around before the sound of his knees hitting the ground even registers. Feels heat licks at her insides, like a sudden spark of a fever, light liquid lightning down her back, and her lips part on a soft gasp as she can feel herself get wet, like a woman starved for it. And every ache in her body intensifies tenfold as the world fades to a backdrop, nothing more important than the way he smells like the answer to all her questions.
no subject
That is, she has no clue until the scent hits her.
And just like that, she's home. The strange comfort of ozone and petrichor undercut by something sweet. And she knows she shouldn't find that as irresistable as she does, that she's not who this scent was designed to attract and lure in. And yet in the intensity of their time together, Sylvie cannot deny that she's grown oh so very fond of it, that something feral and unsettled in her had felt so soothed for the first time in centuries in his presence.
Of course, just her luck that she is just about the only creature in existence he could have picked who is unable to give him what he needs and deserves. Sylvie has no illusions about Omegas not being more than just capable - here she is, after all, and does she not have most people fooled just based on how she carries herself?
But she never told Loki that it's just an act, that it's just survival. That all Lokis are omega because all Lokis were designed to hate themselves, to feel othered in as many ways as possible.
And now, here... She turns around before the sound of his knees hitting the ground even registers. Feels heat licks at her insides, like a sudden spark of a fever, light liquid lightning down her back, and her lips part on a soft gasp as she can feel herself get wet, like a woman starved for it. And every ache in her body intensifies tenfold as the world fades to a backdrop, nothing more important than the way he smells like the answer to all her questions.
And Sylvie wants to scream. ]
You can't be here.