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]

[ 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. ]

[infligere]

[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. ]

[infligere]

[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.) ]

[infligere]

[He tilted his head with the pass of Steve's hand through his hair, noting the difference in roughness, and it only really made his leer grow. There were some ways to tame a man, and it seemed that his bond was not exempt from blow-jobs doing it. If only he had known earlier, he could have ambushed the guy in bed and sucked him off and earn all the extra squirming that effort would have brought him. He made a mental note to ambush at a later date.]

Well... it's a good thing I don't rely on luck. For me, it's about knowing what I want and taking it.

[His lips parted slightly with the caress before he was suddenly pushing himself up and moving to capture Steve's lips and trying to force his tongue into his bond's mouth so that could share the taste of Steve. It was all about sharing now that they had taken this step after all. Such a delicious slippery slope.]

[geriatric]

[ If he'd had a decent amount of luck, maybe HYDRA would have won, and Steve can't say that he'd be happy about that. This isn't exactly ideal, either, but it's better than the alternative.

Rumlow surges up shortly after, not giving Steve time to respond, and he shifts, spreading his legs to let the other man settle in there while he winds both hands in his hair and kisses him back. It's not the same brutal kiss from before, punishing - it's more deliberate. Slower, licking into Rumlow's mouth like he can chase the taste of himself out of it, sliding his hands down over his neck and broad shoulders, tracing over the muscles in his back while he does. ]

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[His hands settled at first on Steve's thighs when the kiss began, but they slipped slowly over the muscles until his hands were perched on Steve's hips as he crawled between the legs that were parted for him. He remained on his knees, leaning in as he kissed with a slow patience to both taste and to give that to the other man and for once, not being a complete ass about it either.

It was a slow sort of kiss they had never had before, tasting and exploring, his fingers massaging on Steve's hips. His shoulders shifted under the large hands, a groan of appreciation issued into their locked mouths before he slowly withdrew flushed and a little breathless before licking the tip of Steve's nose.]

Not bad... your kissing is coming along. Just need the right opportunity to show your skills, huh?

[geriatric]

[ It seemed wrong as hell to give Rumlow this kind of kiss, but he blamed part of it on the bond; he shouldn't, he should know better, but he wanted. Thus far he hadn't been particularly good about not doing things that he knew he shouldn't.

Eventually they part, though, and Steve licks his lips, nose wrinkling at Rumlow's tongue. ]

It's not exactly complicated. [ And a pause, glancing down between Rumlow's legs. ] I can return the favor.

[infligere]

[He fancied himself a good kisser because he had actually practiced more than his share to make it seem like he had relationships when he tended to avoid them for the kinds where he could cut them off or kill them when it suited him. He had more girlfriends with drunken public transit accidents than any other man, and he liked to keep it that way. At least they were good for kissing practice and a quick lay; death was also the best birth control on the planet.

With that kind of romance strolling through his thoughts, he hummed almost affectionately at Steve. He wondered what Steve would do getting screwed on a train. He made a mental note.]

Yet you aren't known for you... ah, experimentation according to how much Romanoff bugged you? [He glanced between his own legs, purposefully bumping his forehead almost playfully on Steve's chin.] You know, the world really needs to imagine Captain America sucking the dick of Hydra... so I'm game.

[geriatric]

[ Truth is, it is a little complicated. It takes effort and skill to kiss; Natasha'd teased him for it but she wasn't quite wrong, he wasn't the world's best kisser. He knew how to keep it from being gross, sure, and he was enthusiastic, but that was about it.

The idea of getting kissing practice from Rumlow was strange as hell, though and he wasn't quite sure he wanted to consider it. ]

...Natasha's overly invested in finding me a date. She doesn't know. [ Which, well. That's for the best, though he figures she suspects. He pulls a face when Rumlow mentions HYDRA and Captain America, grimacing back from it. ] We don't talk about that. When we do this.

[ He's not foolish enough to think this won't happen again. ] I don't- I can't be that. Not here.

[infligere]

[Brock actually vowed to teach Steve a thing or two about kissing when they weren't trying to damage each other or push one another's buttons. It was pretty much the only hobby that he had thought of taking up and now that they had moved beyond the lip service part of their relationship and bond, he figured he could work it in and Steve might not be such a princess about it.]

Well... I guess old Widow can give up on that pipe dream when she figures it out. She's an annoyingly smart woman. [Which was as close to respect as he managed to get. He smirked at the reaction that he managed to get for his mention of their designations.] Whatever you say, Cap.

[He pushed himself back to settle into a crouch, peering at the other man.] We can stop. I won't force you. [Just laugh if the great Captain America ran away from this intimacy.]

[geriatric]

[ Steve's jaw clenches tight a moment, giving Rumlow an unimpressed look. He knows he's doing it just to tweak him, just to fucking wind him up, but it makes him tense, makes him angry all the same.

He rises up to his feet after a moment of hesitation, raising one eyebrow at Rumlow. ]

Go sit on the couch, it'll be easier.

[ Said like he has any idea of what's easier when a guy's giving a blowjob, yeah, okay. ]

[infligere]

[He issued a soft mocking chuckle at the way that Steve's jaw was working, and he knew that he was poking the bear here. He didn't care because they were a bond pair and Steve couldn't kill him outright even without the bond being fully acknowledged.

He moved to his feet at the order and he gave a mocking military salute before slinking off towards the couch where he seated himself comfortably. It occurred to him that it was a position that they couldn't easily be spotted from.]

You ever done this before? I can keep up a litany of instructions for you if not.

[geriatric]

[ He didn't worry about things like whether or not it meant anything to be the one on his knees, the one taking any of this. What people got up to in their spare time didn't matter much when he was younger, back in the 30s and 40s, and it sure as hell doesn't seem to matter too much now.

That doesn't mean he's particularly comfortable with it, though. There's still the knowledge that Rumlow's fully capable of killing him if it comes down to it, when he's in such a vulnerable state. He doesn't think it's going to happen, but there's still a niggling little voice of warning.

He slides to his knees gingerly, fingers working at Rumlow's pants with a frown. ]

No, but it doesn't seem difficult. [ The best way, he's found, to deal with people who run their mouth like that and try to make you uncomfortable, is to just roll with it. ] You'll need to tell me if I'm doing something wrong.