infligere: (Aim)
Brock Rumlow ([personal profile] infligere) wrote in [community profile] spaces_between 2015-07-06 11:33 pm (UTC)

"I want to be certain," he growled back. He knew the rules about anti-pregnancy stuff and at worse he would puke, bleed and be miserable for awhile. Okay, at real worst he accidentally sterilized himself, but given all the shit he'd already put into to his body, he was certain it wasn't impossible anyway. He just wanted to be certain.

"Yeah, I know," he replied and he did. It had been all too much all at once, being starved of the bond so long, slamming together into the bond and then being reduced to animalistic need of rut and heat. He just... remembered dozing in Wilson's arms thinking of how he would count ten little toes and ten little fingers, all perfect and small, flexing under the slide of his thumb. Dark hair, dark eyes and a sweet little chubby face that could out-pout Wilson on any given day.

Shit. Shit, make it goddamn ten pills. He'd swallow them and take that risk than being anywhere close to that image again.

He hummed and turned around to rinse off the soap, running hands over himself to remove any residue. "Your turn," he said, side-stepping to allow Wilson free access to the water. "Once this all settles down, the stupid urges will go away."

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