Rumlow lost track of the number of ways the same question could be asked of him, but he ended up snarling and curling tighter. It wasn't to protect himself but to keep himself from lashing out and trying to act alpha in return. It was right on the cusp, right there for him to seize, but if he took that chance and he made contact, there was a chance he would be all omega and desperate and needy. He'd rather tear his own hair out and shriek obscenities until he was blue in the face than risk his status taking over.
Just when the distance between himself and the agent was closing and his shoulders were bunching to retaliate, the alpha was suddenly called away. The scent was still heavy in the air, and he was slick and miserable, hating the world most of all despite the continued and unholy need to be slammed around and forced upon. Something in the bond he shared tipped that scale, making it very real and very close, and he shivered where he was half-curled in the corner waiting for the next assault.
He was so hot. He couldn't breathe properly again. His clothing clung to his skin, and there was a livid bruise where he had torn the intravenous catheter out and abandoned it near the bed. There was no relief, just more slick and need and want pounding in his veins and head.
At the Hive anyone who came in to check on him had been a beta and fully clothed to prevent any kind of scent reaching him. That kind of neutrality was not going to be used here, and he was going to have to tear himself out. This place was going to use every single ounce of his heat to plumb him for information, and even he knew that eventually, if he was touched and that deep into his hormones, he might actually kiss and tell some vital information.
Then the door to the cell opened, and he tensed his shoulders. It wasn't necessary, as he recognized Wilson in the link and the suddenness of possessive hormones washing over him. He growled low in his throat until the first question hit him at the same time his bond was right there in front of him, pulling him out of the corner. It wasn't why hadn't he talked, why was he resisting... it was if he had been touched.
His arms flew out to curl around Wilson's neck and clutch at the other man's shoulders tightly as he practically threw himself out of the corner into his bond's arms. His face went immediately for the crook of Wilson's neck to nose and suck on scent glands there, the wash of rightness chasing off any other thought of resistance.
"No... and you're here now," he growled. His fingers grasped and dragged down the back of Sam's scalp. "Get me out of here, Wilson. Fuck you smell good."
no subject
Just when the distance between himself and the agent was closing and his shoulders were bunching to retaliate, the alpha was suddenly called away. The scent was still heavy in the air, and he was slick and miserable, hating the world most of all despite the continued and unholy need to be slammed around and forced upon. Something in the bond he shared tipped that scale, making it very real and very close, and he shivered where he was half-curled in the corner waiting for the next assault.
He was so hot. He couldn't breathe properly again. His clothing clung to his skin, and there was a livid bruise where he had torn the intravenous catheter out and abandoned it near the bed. There was no relief, just more slick and need and want pounding in his veins and head.
At the Hive anyone who came in to check on him had been a beta and fully clothed to prevent any kind of scent reaching him. That kind of neutrality was not going to be used here, and he was going to have to tear himself out. This place was going to use every single ounce of his heat to plumb him for information, and even he knew that eventually, if he was touched and that deep into his hormones, he might actually kiss and tell some vital information.
Then the door to the cell opened, and he tensed his shoulders. It wasn't necessary, as he recognized Wilson in the link and the suddenness of possessive hormones washing over him. He growled low in his throat until the first question hit him at the same time his bond was right there in front of him, pulling him out of the corner. It wasn't why hadn't he talked, why was he resisting... it was if he had been touched.
His arms flew out to curl around Wilson's neck and clutch at the other man's shoulders tightly as he practically threw himself out of the corner into his bond's arms. His face went immediately for the crook of Wilson's neck to nose and suck on scent glands there, the wash of rightness chasing off any other thought of resistance.
"No... and you're here now," he growled. His fingers grasped and dragged down the back of Sam's scalp. "Get me out of here, Wilson. Fuck you smell good."