“Don't play that card when we both know you're the old one here.” Sam's lips were conspicuously away from Rumlow's neck. The warmth of the bond couldn't wipe away the sheer terror that'd flared at even a hint of a mating bite being laid and Sam didn't want a repeat performance.

He pressed his cheek and and his nose into skin, muttered back with a rumble of annoyance too soon smoothed by Rumlow allowing the touch in his hair. Those little intimacies had always been his bread and butter with relationships even if none of them had been the bonded sort.

They rumble along for a few more minutes before Sam eased himself up, pulling Rumlow with him by his bound hands. Strange as it was he hadn't been thinking about mating in the least as they calmed down but the glint of the metal made him catch on a possibility, a want. “I can't stay braced like than for an hour an a half.”

Sam reached down, picking up his fallen jacket. “Scoot. On your side.”