For geriatric

[infligere]

Who: Brock Rumlow & Steve Rogers
When: After Soul bond - Timeskipping to Post-TWS
What: Rumlow and Steve deal with the shitty fall out of being stuck together after all that crap went down. They might even have sex for once.
Warnings: Maybe sex?


[He'd kissed Steve once after the Lemurian Star mission, but they'd made it no further than that in the year that they had known they were bonded. There were close calls, frustration and more than his share of horrible hard-ons that always seemed to appear whenever Steve walked into the room with him. They had gotten worse too, and the painful resistance only made his blood run hotter for the national icon.

No one knew about them.

And then HYDRA had been exposed, Insight had been destroyed, the new world order set to bring about peace in shambles and Brock Rumlow found himself confined to a hospital bed under going more skin grafts than he thought he had skin for. Like everyone involved in STRIKE and HYDRA, his name had been blown right open with some of the missions he had done, some of the missions where he had aimed the asset to set the world on a set future. Well, like his skin, everything had burned.

Steve, good guy that the man was, hadn't decapitated him. Most of their meetings involved asking him for information or sitting in silence with only the soft beep of machines their music. He hadn't apologized, not for any of it. It hadn't been personal, though he recognized that the only reason he was staying out of jail or worse was because of Steve's influence and the fact he was set to be the poor bastard's soul bond. Good guy, Rogers... too bad they stood on opposite sides of the scale.

So he'd recovered and mostly looked the same, though the scarring was evident in certain light or if he ever got wet. His life's work was gone in flames, and the only reason that he didn't kill himself was because of Steve. Even as unbonded as they were, he knew at this stage in the game the ripping of a compatible soul - which was laughable at best - would probably reduce Rogers to shambles for a little while. So he didn't; his one perhaps non-selfish act so far. He hoped Rogers didn't plan for more because he wasn't giving any more.

He also totally had it bad for Steve now that he had a body that wasn't about to fall apart on him. He had, by now, given up trying to hide his attraction. It was pointless. He'd either bone the guy soon or eat that bullet he was owed.]

Comments

[geriatric]

That doesn't mean you get to be judge, jury or executioner. You don't have everyone's best interests at heart, Rumlow, and I know HYDRA doesn't either.

[ Don't feed him that line, don't feed him that bullshit. ]

If they were willing to torture you, just to get to me, how much do you really think they care about anything regarding loyalty?

[ He digs into the meal, not because he's grateful, but because he's hungry and he needs something to do before he loses his shit at the other man. ]

[infligere]

Of course it doesn't. That's what the algorithm was for. I have your best interests at heart then and especially now.

[That last part came in a rush, the usual sort of thing that burst from him just before he realized he'd put his foot in his mouth. He grumbled and immediately went back to eating. It was angry eating like Steve was doing.]

To control you. HYDRA is about control and order. I accept that I'm just a cog in the machine, that I might have to sacrifice to get a better world.

[geriatric]

That shouldn't be how it works.

[ He was in the military - sure, he was a cog, and sure, he knew that he was ultimately something they might have to sacrifice, but he'd make those calls himself. He'd sooner put himself down on the line than let someone else have to make that call. After the WSC nearly nuked New York, he'd been so disgusted he hadn't even had words for it. ]

The algorithm would have wiped away children. Babies, expecting mothers. You can't guess what someone will do by -- by their bank records, by social media, by whatever things Zola was using. You can't determine someone's worth like that.

[infligere]

[He frowned around the mouthful that he was chewing, and he had taken more than his share of hits for someone else, made calls that he had learned to let go for his own sanity. He'd been a punk and then a soldier, and he knew how to lay down on the wire so everyone else could crawl over. He wasn't going to ask someone to do something he himself wasn't willing to do.

He somehow managed to swallow, but it tasted horrible and his appetite had fled.]

How do you know what the algorithm would have wiped out? It tracked people with DNA. If you had something that could tell you that Hitler was going to murder so many people and start a second world war before he crawled out from between his mother's legs, would you want him dead before he wiped out good people in the way he did? Death camps? Bullets to the brain? Good men fighting other good men.

/squints. unless i'm misremembering how this worked

[geriatric]

It wasn't just SHIELD data released when Natasha let everything out on the Internet.

[ This part, he's not certain about. Rumlow may not know about everything that's happened- about what Natasha did. They've kept him locked down after finding him and hadn't let him have much exposure to things like the news, or anyone besides a select few. Maybe he doesn't know. ]

Stark was on the list. I'm fairly certain they've moved out of the weapons making business, and don't tell me that the Iron Man suit counts. They were wiping out people in the way, not just your so-called bad men.

Sounds good to me!

[infligere]

[He knew data was released on the internet, though he had never been given computer access to check into it himself. They didn't give him much in the way of technology when he was in the hospital save the television remote. Even then, they had some kind of lock on his television so he couldn't watch anything like the news. He was restricted to the kid's channel and the music channel. It was a pain.

Still, he slowed in his eating at the information, chewing as if he might be trying to break down glass shards. He had no love for Stark or the Avengers, but he didn't know the full scope of the algorithm. He recognized sacrifices would be made; hell, he bet his name was on that list somewhere.

He hunched his shoulders, staring avidly at his food to avoid having to meet Steve's gaze.]

...you can't tell me Stark is innocent...

[geriatric]

[ Steve digs his fork in a little harder with a chink of glass on metal, and glances up at him. ]

I can tell you he's a good man, a better man than the ones who you were following. He's not perfect, but at least he didn't try to kill millions of people based on some lines of programming and a monster telling them it was for the good of the world.

[ He's suddenly not too hungry anymore, but he forces himself back to eating, knowing it's only worse when he DOESN'T. ]

[infligere]

No, he just helped design weapons that were sold to other people to kill millions. I guess people change enough to erase what they did a few short years ago.

[He gave up eating because there was no point to it anymore. He wasn't hungry and while he knew he had to eat in order to heal up quickly, he wasn't about to when they were arguing over world philosophy.

He stood by what he did. He didn't shuffle it off and pretended to suddenly reform. He wouldn't.

Instead, he shoved his bowl and fork away from him, crossing his arms over his chest and looking stubborn.]

We should agree to disagree unless you want this to start getting ugly.

[geriatric]

Wouldn't want to waste my breath.

[ He finishes his meal with sheer determination and by focusing all his irritation away, into something semi-productive. It's not the best use of his time, no, but at least he's got something in his stomach. Why is he even here, though? This is a waste of time, a waste of his breath. Rumlow isn't going to change over night and Steve - well. Steve's still bonded to him no matter what, which is infuriating, too.

Once it's done, he takes it over to the sink, washing the dirtied dishes with sharp, precise movements, the only indicator how how pissed he is. ]

[infligere]

[He held his silence, though his own anger was boiling under the surface, and he thought he had a better handle on it than Rogers did right now. He said nothing when the other man got up and rampaged to the kitchen to clean the dishes, remaining seated and savouring the heat of Steve's anger.

It really was arousing to see it come into play. There were few people who could ever provoke such a response, but Steve just naturally was in the element in righteous anger. Ah, he was going to sleep well tonight.]

...you staying over tonight, or have you made your time quota of seeing me?

[geriatric]

[ That makes him pause, at least. It's an ache in his bones, an itch under his skin to be apart from him, much as he hates it. He can do missions, he can make this work, but it's next to impossible to say no, no matter how hard he wants to.

Steve's shoulders draw up tighter, and he finishes the dishes without saying anything, waiting until they're all in the drying rack before turning. ]

I shouldn't, for both of us.

[infligere]

[Steve never stayed over night with him and he had made the offer more than once just to pain them both with it. He knew the answer before it had been said, and he nodded his head slightly with it, his anger slowly tampering away to settle to the usual sense of horrid sexual frustration that lurked in his body.

He pushed himself out of his chair, scrubbing his hair with a hand so that it looked even more messed up than it usually was nowadays. He had stopped caring so much about his appearance, just kept the rumpled look more often than not.]

Ah well, once you had the information you wanted from reducing yourself to that, I'd finally be able to eat that bullet I've been intending to.

[geriatric]

[ He looks like hell, but then so does Steve, arguably, and there's this awful little part of him, this fucked up part that wants to make him even more messed up. That'd enjoy this, fighting and fucking at the same time, and it twists his stomach even worse than the guilt over not seeing the betrayal before it happened did. ]

Don't -

[ He can't stop his head from jerking up, eyes wide as he hears that. That's the last thing he wants - he knows it's fucked, okay, he knows, but hearing it is sobering in a way he hates. Steve takes three quick, long steps over and fists a hand in the front of Rumlow's shirt. ]

You don't get to do that. You chose this - you made these decisions, and you live with it. It's the least you can do.

[infligere]

[Brock released a soft throaty chuckle like this was all part of the plan, the one he had made laying in a hospital bed with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling and reflect how everything but Steve had been stolen from him. Whatever, life was a piece of shit and they all made the most of it even when it all came crashing down.

The refusal only made his body flush with heat, made far far worse when Steve bore down on him. He shuddered and bared his teeth in some old feral gesture as he grasped the other man's wrist tightly.]

Don't be fucking naive, Rogers. I live, you can't be even close to the one you want to be. I know you two had something going on. [He shoved hard at Steve's chest with his free hand.] You screw me, you pick out all the information Fury wants you to have, then I kill myself and you're free after you pick up whatever pieces happen after that shit. But you're free...

[He smirked his old cocksure smirk.]

I told you I have your best interests at heart. I do even when you're too fucking good-hearted to admit it.

[geriatric]

[ He knows he gets wound up too easily - knows that it's different with Rumlow and he ought to swallow it down, but he can't quite make himself do it, no matter how hard he tries. Rumlow pushes his buttons and Steve reacts, every goddamn time. The fact that there's enough sexual tension to choke both of them isn't helping matters - Steve's half caught up in wanting to argue, and wanting to stifle Rumlow's mouth with something else, which - no, no, he's not going to do that. ]

You know, well as I do that it doesn't matter what I want. [ Not with this, not with the bond. Sure, he and Bucky had something, but it's not the same, it's not like this. This is something in their heads and god knows he'd scratch it out if he could, he'd get in a fucking chair like that and let them burn it out, but it's not that easy. ]

I already asked. About how to burn the connection out, how to erase it. There isn't a way. We both know that if you do that, I follow you a few years later. That's not really best interests, is it.

[infligere]

[And there went Steve being all naive again, but he supposed he couldn't blame the man at all. There were some great secrets that weren't entirely explored, but he had seen a few that had showed promise. They were HYDRA secrets though, not to be revealed but much of anyone or anything, but he could give up the goods while he was either nailing Steve or getting railed somewhere himself.

He shifted his hand up Steve's wrist to pry at the man's fingers gripping his shirt. They hadn't been this close and in their faces in so damn long, and damn if it wasn't making him think very naughty things. It was hard to focus, but he forced himself to anyway.]

There is a way. HYDRA found it, but it isn't pleasant. Hurts like hell from what I saw. [He was still smirking.] I guess that's a sacrifice you're willing to make to scrub it out, though, aren't you? You can't hate me, but you can hate what I'm standing between you from.

[geriatric]

[ This has to be a joke of some kind. Steve stares mutely for a moment, not quite able to believe it. It's not that easy - it's not, it can't be. He shakes Rumlow just once, teeth gritted so tight that it makes his jaw ache. ]

How do I know you aren't lying? Where is it?

[infligere]

[His smirk turned positively nasty, looking far too much like a piranha because he was going to get his way regardless. It had been a long time since he had been able to get a good set up. Of course, HYDRA had worked on it, but it wasn't a sure thing and tended to kill the other bonded in the process.]

Sorry... I lied. Sort of, but man the look on your face...!

[He then gripped the hand fisted in his shirt and twisted as his other hand swung around to smash into Steve's face.]

[geriatric]

[ He should've known. He was desperate enough to do nearly anything to get rid of this - to get rid of his being a fucking liability, and of course -- of course Rumlow'd use it against him.

Steve knows the punch is coming, he's seen Rumlow fight - hell, he's fought him, knows some of his body language and is fast enough for it, and it's the only thing that saves him from a broken fucking nose. He jerks to the side and grabs Rumlow's shirt again, dragging him up and shoving him back against the nearest wall. He ought to punch him - god he wants to, wants to take out his anger at everything on the man, but he can't, he can't. The bond won't let him, and instead, he finds himself shoving Rumlow as far against the wall as he can go, kissing him sharp and fast and furious, biting at his lips. ]

[infligere]

[Steve out classed him completely. The man was had half a foot on him and at least fifty pounds, and that was before he added in all the super-soldier serum enhancements. He'd fought Steve before, done pretty well all things considered but still got his ass beat for it. He shouldn't be striking at the other man and it went everything against the warm tug of the bond that linked them. He did it anyway.

And he hissed when his back impacted with the wall, feeling the drywall buckle a bit with it. He felt a little like a turtle when Steve shoved harder, the wall buckling until he was was a considerable dent, his legs catching on the back of Steve's knees to at least hold a bit of his weight and perhaps trip the bastard if Steve decided to back off.

Then they were kissing, and it was everything the one he had given Steve months ago was not. It was all teeth and furious emotions, snapping and lip locking, and he moved immediately to taste blood. It didn't even matter to him whose it was either as he grabbed at the other man to jerk Steve against him.]

[geriatric]

[ He ought to be more careful - ought to try and not hurt him, ought to do a lot of things that he can't bring himself to do right now, pissed and turned on in equal parts. He tilts his head and bites at Rumlow's bottom lip, making a low, throaty noise into the kiss when he feels teeth on the other side.

They've been dancing around this too long - should've known it'd come to this, but he didn't think it would, he thought he'd have better self control. He doesn't, in fact, and it's what has him grabbing down for Rumlow's hips, curling his hands around them and lifting him up, fingers digging bruises into his skin.

He ought to pull back, call this off, say he's sorry, he never meant to do a lot of things, but he can't bring the words up from his throat, too busy easing his mouth over Rumlow's, shoving his hips up tight against the other man's just for that first drag of friction. ]

[infligere]

[The wall wasn't comfortable, and that's exactly how he imagined this to be. He gripped Steve with as much strength as he carried, and he had long ago given up caring about when or how they did this as long as it happened in some impulsive train wreck like tonight. He was actually more surprise Steve's self-control slipped, but then, they had said a lot of angry words at each other. Best foreplay ever.

He shifted, shimming his hips in the other man's unyielding grip, feeling how his healing skin protested the abuse. It only made his blood run hotter in his veins as he slipped a hand into the hair at the back of Steve's head and was none too gentle about tightening his grip as he moaned deep and throaty into the other man's mouth.

He suddenly tried to jerk Steve's head back with the grip he had on the other's hair so he could bite and mark the skin of Steve's neck with red welts and teeth impressions.] Rougher...

[geriatric]

[ Natasha was wrong - it wasn't his first kiss since way back then, and this wasn't his first time around the block. Maybe he and Bucky hadn't quite gone all the way, but it'd been because Bucky'd insisted that Steve find the guy or gal that he was supposed to be with. No amount of protesting or insisting had changed his mind, and it'd eventually worked out to a point where they were simply content being together, whatever that meant.

It hadn't felt the same as this, though. Not the kissing, not the furtive touching. This was a thousand times better, and it has to be because of the bond, not because of the anger pulsing hot and heady through his veins.

Steve groans when his head's jerked back like that, hips jerking forward in response. Rumlow's not the only one who likes it rough, that's for goddamn sure.

His head tilts to the side for ease of access and Steve drops a hand down, supporting him with just the one, so he can grope for his dick under his jeans, hand fitting over it, dragging up and tugging at the loops of his belt clumsily. ]

[infligere]

[Brock liked the kind of attachments that were brief and easily cut, no real feelings involved and just enough physical pleasure to make like just a little better for everyone involved. He'd done this more than once, though he honestly stuck to women and was generally always the aggressor. This was so good that he could care less was mounting who as long as it happened, as long as he could drag his front down down the curve of Steve's neck, groaning in encouragement.

His right hand grabbed a fist fulls of Steve's shirt, tugging it up progressively until he had it bunched up under Steve's arms, one of which was supporting and the other between them groping around. It was crass he chuckled.]

We doing it here like a couple of damn hookers? I always knew you liked it dirty.

[His legs tightened around Steve's knees, purposefully dropping his hips to knock against the other man's hand, getting in the way but stimulating all the same.]

[geriatric]

[ They're too in each other's ways to make this any sort of graceful, but Steve can't quite find it in himself to care right then, too distracted by the bite of Rumlow's teeth against his throat, the sound of his groan when Steve did something particularly good. ]

I don't care where.

[ Steve noses back behind Rumlow's ear, biting along the tendons in his neck, sucking and kissing bruises down along his skin. Bruises won't stay on him often, but they will on Rumlow; the thought shouldn't be so appealing, but it is. He's right though, the wall isn't the easiest, not with how badly he wants, how impatient he is.

The counter's got things on it, but the table - Steve hefts him up a little tighter, and turns, walking them over to the table where he sits Rumlow down and works with both hands to get his belt undone. He doesn't have much of a plan here, unfortunately; just thinking past the haze is a little much to ask, so he focuses on what he can handle - on shoving open Brock's pants, on pulling them down enough so when he goes to his knees and puts his mouth over the thick arch of his cock under his underwear, there's nothing but that thin layer of cloth in the way. ]