He'd say that Rumlow new some pretty spry senior citizens but the retort was gutted from him as he reclaimed the sheath of his mate's body in all it's slicked, ready perfection. The bed was too small, definitely to small and they were spilling over the edge of it, Sam's leg coming to bracket up against Rumlow's in parallel, weight pressed down into the ball as their skin met there, along their thighs and as where their hips met with each thrust.

Rumlow's goading was exactly that but it worked in spurring Sam into moving hard enough that he'd wring the words right out of Rumlow's throat, give him more of the pure sounds and curses, evidence that he was mating him just right. Sam braced himself with an arm locked around and under his omega's to keep them from sliding right off the slab of metal. The other twined around, finding Rumlow's cock and claiming that in his grasp, stroking when the rocking of their bodies didn't have Rumlow rolling into the curl of his fingers. It was fucking. Mating. Mind-fuzzingly good as the first round and not enough, not until Rumlow was thick with his knot again.

Teeth worried and dug until the spot he'd claimed on the other man's shoulder was a brutal furious red but it still felt off. Seeking as Sam felt himself start to swell at his base all over again, he pushing into the bond which was snapping, cracking an echoing pleasure that revealed in their closeness. He needed more. Wanted more with a need now overriding the few shreds of his logic that he'd clung to. Bond-starved and mate-less after all this time, finally allowed to rut-

He pulled on the bond, dragging it closer like his hands, like the join oft heir bodies.