For geriatric

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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]

[ 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. ]

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[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?

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[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

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[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. ]

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[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. ]

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[It's infinitely more funny that they are wearing socks and nothing else. He doesn't take his or Steve's off, amused and probably more aroused for it, which probably should have sickened him that he was so into this, so into losing the last bit of privacy that he had to the man who had taken it all away. He should hate Rogers as much as Rogers should hate him; instead, he found the heat and the slide of skin-on-skin all the more sexy because he knew they should hate and couldn't. It pained him, and he had never denied liking everything rough an sharp in his life.

He hissed at the words but more a taunting sound as he licked up the flare of bone that made up Steve's hip, nipping and nuzzling soon after. His hand continued to stroke slow and steady, gathering the moisture on his thumb and flashing Steve a knowing look that was all too smug.]

What's a little pillow talk between soul mates?

[He inhaled sharply at the tug, almost crawling up and grinding their hips together. Almost, but he instead shifted his head over to lick the root of Steve's current problem. He was quicker to apply roughness, the gentle but all too threatening glide of teeth on silky hot skin and he hummed at the taste, addicted already. He took the head of Steve's erection into his mouth and sucked, making certain to add lewd noises to enhance the effect.]

[geriatric]

[ The others, Natasha, for example, might know how to treat him to get him out of his own head, how to push and prod and get him with the program. He appreciates it for what it is, truthfully, likes having friends like that, who know him that well, who fill in the gaps that Bucky'd left. The soul mate was supposed to do that, too. He'd hoped - well. He'd hoped if he ever found them, that it'd be right. What's a little pillow talk between soul mates, Rumlow asks, and part of Steve wants to shut him up, the other part knows it's true - biology, chemistry, whatever it is, it helps make this easier, makes him like this.

Steve tugs again, but Rumlow seems to get with the program, drags his tongue hot and wet over the base of Steve's cock. For all he'd talked about liking it rough, this is just borderline - a flicker of teeth, not enough to hurt but enough that Steve squirms on the floor, eager and needy.

He'd been quiet - conservative, when he'd sucked at Rumlow's cock but the other man has no such worries, apparently. It's wet and noisy and Steve swallows the groan he wants to let out, instead fitting a hand to the back of Rumlow's head, fingers fisting in his hair, pulling him back. ]

Open your mouth.

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[There was a line that he was certain that existed where regardless of what action his mouth was doing or where it happened to be that Steve would punch him in the head. Perhaps that was the whole reason they were together at all... to push and abuse each other just enough for it be advancement and a thrill, to drive the other beyond limitations and beyond the line hoping against hope that that punch will finally come, that all that owed would, for one frightening moment, snap into place... or out if his nose or jaw was involved in receiving that punch.

He also had no idea seeing the great and powerful Steve Rogers squirm would make his body shudder in pleasure and desire as it did. He was as lewd as possible more for the audience than Steve, though he could tell the other man struggled all the same, his tongue probing the messy slit with a fearless abandon. He still tilted his head back at the flare of pain his scalp, releasing his mouth and smirking at the order.]

Make me.

[He gave Steve a vicious pinch alarmingly close to the man's testicles.]

[geriatric]

[ he hadn't had a lot of sex - nor a lot of blowjobs, but he would put money on the fact that bond or not, he'd enjoy Rumlow getting his mouth on his cock like this, that any guy would, but the idea of it with anyone else is something he can't even stomach right now. Rumlow's his (and he knows that's not true, he knows it, but something in his gut says that he is, that the idea of sharing him is something he can't stomach.)

Right now, it doesn't need to be a concern - Rumlow's with him. Steve jerks at the pinch, a low noise escaping him as he squirms, jerking at his hair.

He can do it - there are a few options here, and while he doesn't have the stomach for some of them, he slides a hand down and presses his thumb into the corner of Rumlow's jaw, shoving it between his lips, trying to shove it between his teeth. ]

Open up. [ He's not asking. ]

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[He stared in open challenge to the other man, waiting to see what it was that Rogers was going to do. He hoped it hurt; he wanted it to hurt. This wasn't just about pleasure in some ways; it was about dominance and itching at the dislike for the situation that he had perhaps come to accept a little more with nothing else to focus on. He couldn't even wipe his own ass without someone reporting how many sheets of toilet paper he used after all.

He tilted his head a little with the press of Steve's finger like it was nothing more than a gentle caress. He should have clamped his jaw, but instead he flicked his tongue out, feeling his cheek and Steve's finger wedging between his teeth. He bit regardless, the pressure enough to warn Steve that he would bleed his own cheek to challenge back.]

Make. Me. [He wasn't asking either.]

[geriatric]

[ He could choke him, hand over his mouth, over his nose, make him open that way. He could do a lot of things but he's just not wired that way. Rumlow might be wired for violence and force, but Steve's got his own limits. He wants his mouth on his dick, sure, but the idea of him being hurt that badly isn't exactly appealing.

He tries for a happy medium, reaching down, pulling his head up with the hand in his hair. One big hand slides around his throat, squeezing in, fisting tightly against the long line of his throat. It's fucked - he's so messed up, thinking it looks good there, but it does. He squeezes until he's sure it's too much, waiting Rumlow out, waiting for him to open his mouth like he's been ordered to. ]

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[There was a thrill in knowing that they were testing the limitations that each of them had here, and he stared into Steve's eyes as if promising violence if their roles were reversed. They weren't though because Steve had been ever eager to get a mouth on him, and the ghost of the memory of it was going to haunt him for a few nights at the very least.

He tilted his head up with the pull because he wasn't about to lose his hair for this yet. He grimaced and bared his teeth at the hand on his throat, but the squeeze was actually enough to focus him on holding his breath and squirm a little himself, hands clenching on Steve's hips tightly before he was forced to gasp air and finally relented to drop his mouth over Steve's erection, taking as much of it into his mouth all at once.]

[geriatric]

[ That's what he wanted. Maybe not direct violence, but the threat of it, that was enough to get him moving. Steve doesn't particularly like the idea of it (except for all the parts of him that do, but he can't even begin to wrap his mind around that, not right now.

He's hyper aware of the fact that Rumlow'd need air when doing this, but he's careful not to give him much leeway. They're not doing this to be kind, there's nothing kind about this. Maybe he'd pictured something like this going the other way, a little less vicious, a little less punishing, but after what Rumlow'd done, well. There weren't many ways around it.

Steve slides his hand from Rumlow's hair and grips the back of his head, hand fanning out, pushing him down until he's as far as he can go; his own breathing goes soft and shaky, hips pulsing up a little impatiently at the sensation, trying to fuck up into his mouth despite the knowledge that he needs to wait. ]

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[Steve tasted better than anything and anyone, and he supposed it wasn't a shock to him. So far, the guy was pretty much dynamite to his senses when they had began down this road together. Despite gasping around the flesh in his mouth for air and then settling to breathe through his nose noisily afterwards, he kept his end of their vicious little contest and loosened his throat and jaw, drawing more of the man's impressive erection into his mouth before he was practically gagging on it.

His fingernails dragged red welts along Steve's inner thighs as well before he began to bob his head up and down on the flesh between his lips. His tongue teased and licked what it could on each rise and fall of his head before he applied only the threat of teeth on his way up, pausing long enough to dart the tip of his tongue into the slit, gathering the moisture that should have disgusted him but really only made him want to earn more. How goddamn pathetic. Yet he enjoyed it too.]

[geriatric]

[ He shouldn't be turned on by Rumlow struggling to take his cock. He shouldn't - it was so messed up that it made guilt churn uneasily in his stomach, but fact was that he was turned on by it. There's a sick sort of pleasure out of gripping his hair like that, from rolling his hips up and fucking up into his mouth impatiently. Guilt will come later; right now, he slides his legs out further and braces one knee against Rumlow's shoulder, rolling his hips up again.

Where this is going, he's not entirely certain. He knows where he'd like it to go, but that's a little over ambitious and a poor idea; the further this goes, though, the less he thinks he'll actually worry about it and the more he thinks he'll likely want it. The concern is what Rumlow wants, fucked as that is to think about.

Rumlow's tongue slides over the flushed head of his cock and Steve lets it go another few moments before exhaling harshly, dragging him back with a firm pull. ]

Too much.

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[He liked that this was messed up, that they fought each other, that his tongue brought out so much easy pleasure in a man usually so in control of the situation. He wanted to hear Roger's huffing like some kind of winded bull, but it seemed that he would be denied that luxury. Well, he couldn't say that his bond wasn't a rude bastard when it came to pleasure, but he'd make sure that Roger's learned a thing or two about how it was done, especially with him.

He winced and had to lift his head or risk losing a portion of his scalp in the process, hissing in aggravation at Steve. He frowned for a moment and then licked his lips as he savoured the taste and feel of the man there, letting Roger's know he was.]

There's never too much with a blow-job, idiot. Are you going to let me finish or do I have to avoid getting poked in the eye with that monster you call a dick?

[geriatric]

[ Monster, Steve thinks with a disgruntled little noise. Excuse you, buddy. Rumlow was one of the few people that could make something supposed to be a compliment come across that way. Steve rolls his eyes instead of saying anything and runs his fingers through Rumlow's hair instead, soothing the part he'd pulled. ]

I meant too much or I'd come and I didn't - [ Want to presume. Which seems ridiculous, given that they've spent half their time arguing and hurting each other on purpose, so coming down Rumlow's throat really shouldn't be this big of a concern. Steve cringes at himself and his ridiculousness, scowling. ] You want a warning, or no?

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[He smirked because he was trying very hard to be crude and crass with Rogers. He expected that doing so would earn a bit more hurt and roughness, and he wasn't going to be treated like some princess because they were bonds. They were men, and if they didn't bleed during this, he would not be satisfied. Of course, he would make Rogers bleed but what was the point? The guy healed too fast for it even to be a turn on. Jackass.]

You didn't what? Want to blow the back of my head off with the strength of it? Or squirm for me while it happened because I bet you're a squirmer, aren't you? [He smirked, tilting his head to the petting before he shifted a hand in to stroke Steve's erection before snorted.] I consider myself warned and I'm not signing a medical release form either.

[He then made an effort to settle his mouth back where it had been so rudely pulled from.]

[geriatric]

[ He's totally a squirmer, but he doesn't say a goddamn word about it, lips pressing into a thin line, unimpressed. ]

Fine.

[ Try to show a guy (who, admittedly didn't deserve it) some courtesy and this is what happens. Steve clenches his jaw, breath hitching the moment Rumlow's mouth slides down around him, wet and slick and so, so good. It doesn't matter there was a delay; he was on edge the moment Rumlow's mouth got anywhere near him.

Both hands snap up, one digging into his shoulder, the other cupping the back of his head where he pushes down, makes Rumlow take his cock deeper until Steve can jerk his hips up in sharp, harsh little pushes, coming down his throat with a strangled groan. Unsurprisingly, he squirms. ]

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[He said nothing more about it because Steve wasn't literally hauling him away, so he figured that the blond was giving into this and would just do what was required and squirm like the big bitch the man actually was. His big bitch of course, and he had never had to be possessive of anything before. Now he might just get into it just because it might arouse the other to violence more often and that idea alone made his own state of arousal difficult to ignore.

He did all the same, his mouth working on Steve's erection with a near cheerful abandon even as he was forced deeper on each bob downwards. He groaned at the pressure to his shoulder and head, finding it all too delicious but didn't have time to savour it before his mouth and throat was being inundated with Steve's cum. He somehow managed to swallow most of it down but it was the squirming that utterly had him hypersensitive on the other man.

Only once he'd swallowed all that was released did he make a move to struggle free of the hold on his head, licking his lips as he leered at Steve.] You're such a squirmer... that's a right turn on, you know.

[geriatric]

[ Much as he'd like to say he hauled him away, there's no chance of that. Rumlow's mouth feels too good against his skin, around his cock. Steve spills into his mouth with a low, soft moan, a little hitch of his breath at the end as he realizes Rumlow swallows all of it. He ought to be disgusted - not at the act, but at himself, at doing this, but he can't bring himself to be.

Steve drags a hand through Rumlow's hair, softer this time, slower and less angry, and pulls a face at that leer. ]

You'd be out of luck if you didn't like it.

[ Steve strokes one hand down Rumlow's jaw, thumbing over his bottom lip, trying not to think about how his lips are spit and come slick with his come, how that's not a turn on (except for how it is.) ]