While the growl wasn't loud, he sensed the flare of protectiveness from the bond next to him. It might have been endearing if it didn't momentarily disgust him, like Sam needed to protect him when he had spent all of his life protecting himself. He knew how to use his status against others, and why would he resist the very organization that had given him everything that he had ever wanted? All that it had required in return was life-long service.
The moment of the next combat faded when the bond between them flared mutually, and he felt his chest constrict as the warmth and rightness flooded through him. It made breathing difficult, and his back straighten as he struggled to cope with the so very newness of that kind of sensation. Part of him wanted to surrender and just be washed away, but another part which had dominated his life since he was aware of himself clung to control with every last fingernail.
Rumlow stilled as the brush of skin, the slide of it down his arm until their scent glands were pressed together, mingling their hormones. He shifted his wrist so that the cuff moved down his arm, and it was as shocking and warm as the last time they had done this. He was breathing fast and shallow, caught between being overwhelmed as the bond grew inside of him to a monstrous thing that pushed outwards against his control and realizing he was about to jump from a high cliff.
His head turned to sight Wilson next to him, swallowing hard and twitching across his shoulders and arms as their contact continued.
He was drowning. He couldn't breathe. He was being swallowed up, his control stripped away until he was just a shivering mess of an omega so long starved that it was bridging on painful to have this contact. He made a low desperate sound, his eyes widening, and he looked like he might just be having a heart-attack right there in the truck except that his gaze was fixed on Wilson.
no subject
The moment of the next combat faded when the bond between them flared mutually, and he felt his chest constrict as the warmth and rightness flooded through him. It made breathing difficult, and his back straighten as he struggled to cope with the so very newness of that kind of sensation. Part of him wanted to surrender and just be washed away, but another part which had dominated his life since he was aware of himself clung to control with every last fingernail.
Rumlow stilled as the brush of skin, the slide of it down his arm until their scent glands were pressed together, mingling their hormones. He shifted his wrist so that the cuff moved down his arm, and it was as shocking and warm as the last time they had done this. He was breathing fast and shallow, caught between being overwhelmed as the bond grew inside of him to a monstrous thing that pushed outwards against his control and realizing he was about to jump from a high cliff.
His head turned to sight Wilson next to him, swallowing hard and twitching across his shoulders and arms as their contact continued.
He was drowning. He couldn't breathe. He was being swallowed up, his control stripped away until he was just a shivering mess of an omega so long starved that it was bridging on painful to have this contact. He made a low desperate sound, his eyes widening, and he looked like he might just be having a heart-attack right there in the truck except that his gaze was fixed on Wilson.