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]

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. ]

[infligere]

[He shuddered at the sting of Steve's teeth on his skin, aware that he'd bruise heavily to the area. His skin did that with less provocation lately, but he wanted the mark, the reminder to the both that after a year and a half of painfully resisting, they had done the nasty, forged a deep bond and shared things that he hadn't shared with anyone. He hoped Steve was ready for it; hell, he hoped he was ready for whatever Rogers would provide him in the way of information.]

Good... just keep it rough.

[He didn't resist when he was hauled off and seated on the top of the table, using the new opportunity to rob Steve of a shirt and planned on using it as a pillow when they got that far. His hands then went for Steve's pants now that the belt was out of the way, jerking the material open roughly and forcing Steve's trousers down before his own sweatpants suffered much the same treatment.

He snapped a hand up so he could bite his own knuckles bloody at the sudden stimulation, so much better than anything he'd had before. Profanity emerged from his lips as his hips flexed towards Steve's mouth, his other hand fisting in that blond hair. It was all he could do to keep it at profanity and not sing the man's name.]

COULDA SWORN HE WAS WEARING JEANS GJGJ SELF

[geriatric]

[ He's got half a mind to tell him to shove it - that he'll make this however he damn well pleases, but they both know that there's no way that he can do gentle right now, not with the way he's digging bruises into Rumlow's skin.

His shirt gets lost somewhere along the way and Steve barely pays any mind to it, too busy nosing over the long line of his cock, dragging his tongue up the fabric. He may not have done this before, but that doesn't mean he's not eager for it, eager for the taste and weight of Rumlow on his tongue. They were right when they said it's not the same if it's not your bonded; nothing tastes this good, feels this good. Steve drags his underwear down with two fingers hooked on either side, and doesn't waste any time, curling a hand around him while his mouth eases wet and slick over the damp tip of his cock, working his way down to his hand. ]

He's slumming it. Why are you, Steve?

[infligere]

[The apartment was suddenly too hot, what remained of his clothing too confining and the churn of his blood in his veins too intense. He couldn't help but stare at Steve so eager and wanton, all sense of control gone, the teetering of their passion hedging so close to renewed violence. He kicked his legs to drop his sweatpants to the floor, not planning on needing them anymore.

He groaned loudly and without care who heard at the stimulation, the roughness of his underwear making it so much more. His head fell back as he braced himself on his hands, pressing his hips towards Steve's hot mouth. The suddenness of his underwear coming down and followed immediately with Steve's mouth earned the man a soft choking sound as he pressed one of his feet into Steve's groin, rubbing the other in return as he lost himself in this pleasure so easy.]

both of you just get naked jfc

[geriatric]

[ It wasn't like it was a secret that Steve was here - there was survellaince everywhere, from phones to cameras, but Steve knew whoever was watching them either recorded it, or wouldn't view this, because they had a sense of right and wrong. No one needed to see this.

For all that he's got the basic idea down of how this works, it doesn't make it easy, exactly. Steve slides his hand down, curls it firmly around the thickness of him at the base, and uses his mouth on top, finding that easiest, dragging his tongue along the flushed tip in slow, easy laps. Jesus, he even tastes good, and for a second he aches pressure on his own cock; it's solved easily enough when there's a press of something, and Steve's eyes go wide. It's a dominant gesture, for all that Steve's the one initiating things right now and it makes him jerk up a little, seeking more of it. He's not sure where this is going, but then Rumlow probably doesn't have it all planned out either, so he sticks to what he's got - a hand curled 'round his cock, jerking him off in slow, steady pulls of his hand while his mouth is on the rest, slicking him so his hand skims over his cock easily. ]

This half naked thing is kind of them though... just another train wreck

[infligere]

[Brock hoped everyone watching was getting a good eyeful of noble and in control Steve Rogers sucking his dick. There was some kind of poetic justice in it, and he could make a few tentacle references about HYDRA, but he both didn't have the words to slam together as his vocabulary had grown incredibly short and he thought Steve might bite. While hot, it just wasn't down there.

His head fell back more, a throaty groan of pleasure at the torment was the was receiving, his hips pressing towards Steve's mouth without a single drop of shame. Yet, he had enough mind through this to keep rubbing his foot over Steve's erection, but even this... wasn't enough. It felt good - damn did it ever - but it wasn't enough to have that wet mouth all over him while he sat half naked on the table that had just eaten on. He wanted more and he wasn't about to stop until he had gotten it.]

God you're good at this... but... ah fuck it...

[He shifted on the table, sliding towards the edge and then moving to pounce on Steve.]

lmfaoooo

[geriatric]

[ Steve'd always found women attractive - soft curves, warm skin, red lips, always liked that. He'd thought at first that Peggy'd be the one who he'd bond to but that hadn't turned out right; didn't mean he didn't still enjoy it. On the other hand he had an appreciation for men, muscles under skin, hard angles and sharpness. Rumlow's got more of that than anything else, the curves of his hips sharp where his bones jut up, and Steve wants to trace them with his mouth, but he's too distracted for the moment.

He's not sure what he can take here, but he wants all of it, whatever that means, whether it's this or any other way, it's just a bone-deep, shocking want.

Steve slips his mouth down again, lets his lips meet where his hand is curled tightly over his cock and when he draws himself up to breathe, he finds himself ass over teakettle on the ground, Rumlow over him. ]

[infligere]

[He would have liked to comment on Steve's eager dirty mouth, but he was actually a bit surprised to get the man knocked down. He still smirked like this was all according to plan and slid away long enough to grab Steve's jeans and any undergarments and jerk them none to gently down and off of the man's legs, abandoning the material as soon as it was no longer warming Steve's flesh.

He then straddled the other man's thighs and reached up to pull off his own shirt, tossing it aside with a carelessness he didn't normally have for his things.]

What would the public say to a newspaper headline that goes like... "HYDRA agents fucks Captain America"? It has a nice ring to it.

[He leaned down and nipped hard on Steve's hip close enough to the man's erection to feel it against the curve of his jaw. A hand snuck in so that he could play his fingers up the curve before his the pad of his thumb rubbed circles over the swollen head.]

You'd like a headline like that too, wouldn't you?

[geriatric]

[ Could he fight like this? He doesn't really know, honestly. The worst of it is he trusts Rumlow not to do anything, not to take him down, not to try and kill him while they try to do this. He can't think straight enough to even figure out how he'd deal with that happening, truthfully.

Steve kicks his jeans away impatiently, bare except for his socks, and hooks a leg around Rumlow, dragging him in close. It takes a moment to click - what he's saying, what he's implying, and he ought to shove him off, ought to tell him to screw off, shut up, but there's this awful sense of shame that pools in his gut, and it doesn't make him lose his erection, it makes him jackknife his hips up, needy, precome sliding shiny over the flushed tip of his cock. ]

Shut up, Rumlow.

[ It comes out as almost steady, but so, so rough, Steve bracing his elbows on the linoleum, hands curled into fists as he fixes his eyes on the other man's face. The scars don't bother him - he's more focused on the roughness of his hand, how it's barely anything.

You'd want a headline like that too, wouldn't you? He doesn't say a goddamn word, just curls a hand in Rumlow's hair and tugs, sharp. ]