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

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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.

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[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.

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[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. ]

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[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.

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[He lounged on the couch like he owned the thing, which he technically did really. This was his place and thus he knew the most comfortable spot on the cushions. He still spread his legs apart as Steve came over, watching the other man with a knowing look.

He lifted his hips so that his sweatpants could be drawn down off his hips without much issue, and after their closeness and his previous acts, he was hard, almost painfully so. He just happened to be used to not letting loose and begging for what he needed.]

No teeth is the only rule to remember. And damn do I hope you can suck like a Hoover. [He leered and reached out to card his fingers through Steve's hair, scratching the back of the man's head with his fingers.] How about this? If I'm cursing, you're doing it right. If I'm punching you in the face, you're doing it wrong.

this thread is so fucked LMFAO

[geriatric]

[ The sweatpants slide down and off and as an afterthought, he works off anything else that the man is wearing. With that finished, his hands slide up Rumlow's legs, over his knees and up his thighs. It seems strange to enjoy touching the guy who'd caused them so much trouble - who'd stabbed him in the back, but some part of his brain still enjoys this.

Steve tilts his head into the touch, leaning in and over Rumlow's thighs, sliding his hand up so the breath trails over his cock. It's strange as hell, handling one that isn't his own, but at the very least he knows how this works. It's even stranger not wearing much to do this, but that part isn't as much of a concern.

Shifting in, he drags his tongue up the underside, tracing the vein there, and eases his mouth down, lips and tongue sliding over the flushed head, licking salt off of it. He withdraws after a moment, glancing up at him. ] You try to hit me and I'll leave.

But you are loving every moment of its dysfunction

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[There was some appreciation in getting stripped, and he lounged around on the couch as comfortably naked as he had when he was fully clothed. It certainly didn't change his mind about letting Rogers get a mouth on him that was for certain. There was as much a risk to him as there was to his bond. He punched Rogers, he had no doubt the guy would bite and that would be a real shame for them both.

He released a sigh at the caress of hands over his legs, parting them a little further to accommodate Steve's broad shoulders. Once the other man was settled between his legs, he went as far to show how comfortable he was with this by lifting a leg and draping it over his bond's shoulder, heel sliding down Steve's back in response to the sudden wetness on his erection, a shiver running through him.

And seriously, being a cock-tease already? He looked down at Steve and smirked.] No you won't. I punch you and we'll be on the floor humping like a pair of rabbits. I guarantee it.

sob yes

[geriatric]

[ The idea of Rumlow punching him and him biting down in return just doesn't appeal in any way, shape or form. Steve shifts a little bit to better accommodate the other man's leg, pressing in closer. The tone of everything shifted a bit - less brutal, angry, and more tentative on his part as he tries to figure out how to do this, how to make it good. ]

Don't test me, Rumlow.

[ He's not sure how much the threat is worth when he's still bending down, still curling a hand around the thickness of Rumlow's cock and sliding down, swallowing him like there's nothing else in the world he wants in his mouth more than this. (For the moment, it's true; there isn't any thing else that he wants.)

The taste and feel of him on his tongue is strange enough as it is, salty and heavy, and Steve blames the lack of gagging on years of being sick and having any manner of things jammed in his mouth to try and do tests and figure out how to fix him. He slides up with a slick noise and focuses his mouth on the tip for the moment, finding that easier, using his fist and the resulting slickness to jerk him off while his tongue drags over the wet head. ]

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Aww, you can't expect any less from me. It'd get boring if I wasn't testing or pushing you.

[Of course, any other sort of crass he might have thought to give was immediately silenced with Steve's mouth on him like that. Even with the clear inexperience, it still somehow felt like the best damn hot little mouth he had ever had on him. It was the bond he knew, but his hips rose towards the mouth and tongue that lavished such fine awkward attention on him.

His fingers of both hands card into Steve's hair, not only purposefully messing it up but also enjoying the feel of it through his fingers. His head fell back on the couch and he issued a throaty groan of approval, his hips rolling with the pleasure of the teasing of both tongue and hand on his erection. He didn't even bother to hold back to cuss that whispered beyond his lips. Yeah, he was doing it right.]

[geriatric]

[ The strangest thing was that he was getting off on this too. He was getting off on Rumlow's pleasure, on his reactions, on the twist of his body underneath Steve's hands and mouth. It was a rush all on its own, having him react like that, greedy and eager, because of something Steve was doing.

He makes a throaty noise at the hand in his hair, parting his lips wider to let Rumlow's cock slip in and out with ease, flushing at the way it sounds, the lewd wet noises as he swallows spit and precome and bobs his head down over him. For all that this might be new, he's eager enough for it and enthusiasm makes it a hell of a lot easier to learn how to do this right. Steve catches a rhythm - it isn't perfect, but it's clear he tries, and each time Rumlow's cock slips further back, he's able to take him a little more. His free hand slips down, sliding up and over the other man's balls, mimicking what he likes, figuring he'll tell him if he does something he doesn't like. ]

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[Brock was used to instructing people or at least telling them what to do. Even heavy into his pleasure, it's easy to use his hands to ease Steve's head one way or another with gentle urging, though not entirely necessary. Rogers had enthusiasm and a willingness to learn, and that hot mouth was not doing the man fewer favours either. He made certain to moan or curse when Steve was doing something right, something he liked in particular. He was also just as certain to not react to anything that he didn't.

Yet soon enough it was less about instruction and more about them sharing this pleasure. His hips encouraged a rhythm, pressing into Steve's mouth as his fingers massaged any part of his bond's scalp that he can reach, his breathing getting heavier and his cussing far more often as pleasure soaked through. He let out a strangled noise that sounded a lot like 'fuuuuuuuuck' drawn out at the sudden caress to his balls, hips jumping and fingers tightening. He knew he was getting closer the longer they explored, and he forced his chin towards his chest so he could stare at Steve's mouth on his erection.

And then he got an idea.]

[geriatric]

[ The guidance is appreciated, as is the actual vocal help he's getting. Steve bobs his head a little faster, tightens his grip a little more and goes where he's instructed with no small amount of enthusiasm, listening to Rumlow's noises.

His own cock isn't entirely uninterested in the proceedings; one hand drops down to stroke over himself a few times, his nose nearly down against Rumlow's stomach, a throaty little groan escaping him when the other man fucks up into his face. He might not be the best at it, but he's enjoying simply doing it, enjoying giving Rumlow a show as he rolls his eyes up and makes eye contact with each deliberate slide of hands and mouth down, swallowing around him. ]

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[There was something delicious of watching the motions of Steve's other hand, not doubt stroking himself. His leg tightened on Rogers' shoulder, wanting to smirk but feigning the ability to as his mouth hung open a bit to make as many lusty cussing sounds that could just fall from his lips. When their eyes met, he gave a little shake of his head as if in disbelief of his good fortune of having Steve right there between his legs.

And he was so close, thrusting into Steve's parted lips, his fingers tightening as he bucked and groaned as a signal of his rather imminent release. Getting this blow was like finding religion and getting baptized; that's really how amazing that dirty mouth was. Yet, he arched as he was that close to his release and with his fingers tight in Steve's hair, he hauled on the man's head to force it off of his erection as he came and hopefully had snipers aim to nail the man right in the face. Once he knew Steve's mouth was free, he released his hands in the man's hair to do the classic - and no longer used - HYDRA two-armed salute as he hollered]

Hail HYDRA!

[geriatric]

[ He was used to cursing - the guys in the military always did, he was used to some vulgar language, but he didn't ever take to it much or find it particularly tasteful. That said, hearing Rumlow say those things - hearing his voice low and rough like that, well, that's a turn on all on its own.

Of all the things he expects, being jerked off of the cock isn't one of them. Steve sputters, swallowing hard once his mouth is clear and opens it to ask him what the hell he wants, only for him to get a mouth and face full of the mess. For a moment, he can't even believe what the hell just happened, but it clicks into place all too soon and he jerks back, wiping his face off and spitting into Rumlow's discarded sweatpants. It's not even offensive so much as it is infuriating, because he knows, he knows what he's doing, but he's not going to fucking deal with it. The sweatpants get thrown at Rumlow's face and Steve jerks away to go find his own clothing, his own erection forgotten. ]

I still can't breathe well

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[It was worth it to see the look of infuriated shock on Steve's face, to picture it all and wish not for the first time that he had a camera to capture the moment. It's just as good in his mind's eye, but he really would love to review that kind of look and the mess that he made on his bond's face just like that. It was probably one of the best feelings in the world even when Steve got all offended and threw his pants at him. He was laughing as he pushed himself off the couch, ignoring his pants and stumbling after Steve.]

Come on, don't go!

[Instead, he moved to see if he could tackle his bond or at least latch on because he really wasn't done with their adventuring now that it had started. They were supposed to go at it like rabbits, remember?]

fffuckkk

[geriatric]

[ Anger's easy enough to deal with, burning hot and steady in his stomach and chest. Steve shoves at him, once, and then again to get him away, determined not to sink to his level and hit him, no matter how fucking tempting it is. He knows what the intent behind it was, and doesn't care; he's not sinking to that level, not yet. ]

You clearly don't want me here.

[ This whole thing feels ridiculous and petty, and it's fucking difficult to put on boxer briefs when he's got a full-sized man latching onto him. ]

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[He was shoved off twice before he managed to evade or at least duck enough to get a good enough position to snag onto the top of Steve's thighs with both arms and just hang on for dear life. He literally allowed himself to be dragged around, still sort of chuckling as he remembered the look on Rogers' face from before. It was brilliant.]

Shit Rogers, I want you even more now. Come on, stay! You might even be able to think of pay back for that... oh man, do I want to see what creative debauchery you can think of.

[He hung on like a half-burnt leech to the man's thighs, before he applied himself to trying to bite Steve's ass playfully.]

[geriatric]

[ Christ on a cracker. Steve stops, dragging a hand down and fisting it in Rumlow's hair with a furious look on his face. He doesn't bother hiding it, doesn't bother softening the jerk on Rumlow's already mussed hair. ]

You don't get it. That isn't how this is supposed to be. We don't hurt each other and try to one up each other worse and worse just because it's fun.

[ That's the biggest difference between them, perhaps. Rumlow finds all of this fun, and it turns Steve's stomach. He's not sure why this sort of thing is so different than the roughness and force during sex, but it is. ]

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[It seemed like a small victory to force Steve to stop trying to get dressed to leave. However, that victory seemed momentarily short-lived with the rough jerk on his hair, and he wasn't certain if anything tore. His scalp was hardy, but yeah, not after all the shit he had been put through in the building collapse. He thoroughly enjoyed the furious look all the same, even with his eyes watering a bit from pain.]

And how is it supposed to be with you? Mercenary style for twenty years with paper-bags over our heads? Come on... it's fun to test the limits. Besides, I didn't hurt you, did I?

[Now that Steve had stopped moving, one hand shifted to see if the man still had a raging hard-on to stroke.]

[geriatric]

I don't know.

[ Steve clenches his teeth tighter, shoulders hunching. He's not an expert on this, he just doesn't know, but he knows that this much is not how it's supposed to be. ]

I don't - don't mention them, don't mention my title, none of that. It shouldn't be that di-- ngh-

[ The worst of it, really, is that when Rumlow's hand slides down, it's true; he's still hard, thick and flushed against the material of his briefs. Steve tenses up, jerking a moment as he tries to figure out if he ought to move forward or stay, and doesn't move. ]

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[Well it was easy to figure out what had really gotten the bee in Rogers' bonnet here. It was the declaration rather than cumming all over the man's face. It was the definition of their titles, that he was HYDRA, that Rogers was Captain America. Perhaps Steve wanted them to be normal people when they were being intimate, not want to dislike each other and their differing life choices.]

So... you want me to just be Brock Rumlow and you to just be Steve Rogers. No one and nothing else, just people with nothing to do but let the bond happen, huh?

[His hand stroked the front of Steve's boxers before tugging them down enough to free the show of his bond's arousal, stroking as he licked and nibbled his way up one of Steve's ass cheeks until he was at the small of the man's back, breathing hot breath against the skin. He hid most of his amusement and some of his attitude in a single moment - to be saved for the right time later to be sure.]

Stay, Steve. We haven't broken any furniture with furious copulation... and we really should get on that.