Brock Rumlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
infligere) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
spaces_between2015-03-13 08:06 pm
infligere) wrote in spaces_between2015-03-13 08:06 pm
We're all going to Hell
Who: Brock Rumlow & Sam Wilson
When: 6+ months post-TWS
What: Tans knows. I know. Yet another reason we have poor life choices because of conversations with each other.
Warnings: Rumlow, dubious science, sex no doubt.
Time was a slippery mistress to chase when one hadn't seen the outside world in a long time. The Hive was a facility that was designed to be both a prison and a feast of scientific advancement, buried in the ground and having little need to have any come to the top three prison levels for any more than resupplying. It was a revolving door of fresh faces and experimentation, hidden within plain sight and maintained by an apparent good standing in a functioning if hard penal system.
Rumlow hadn't had a chance to look at the date when he was stolen from the hospital room, not exactly his first priority. He knew upon awakening and being told he was at the Hive that he had been traded to another division to use up what was left of him. That was fine by him as all previous estimations were that he would never been fully functional as an agent again with the extent of damage that he had suffered. He was fine living out the rest of his life being of service.
Except he didn't die.
HYDRA was always on some advancement, and it seemed interested in the relative youth of the super-soldiers and the limited youth effects of Centipede. It had a good serum made up that was in test phase, and who better to test the effects on then the washed out remains of soldiers from the Washington D.C. failure. It began slowly at first and earnestly when responses were recorded. Alphas, fueled by testosterone and aggression and dominance, showed little production and response, though there was some age-stopping effects noted. Betas, the middle ground that swayed between nature and nurture, were moderately successful and lost a few apparent years and maladies that were associated with age. Omegas, nurturing and estrogen based and designed to take all manner of punishment, responded better than anyone expected. Years bled away (literally), they returned to prime 'breeding' years as it was called and they were suddenly on great interest.
Brock had healed well, his scarring bleeding away with the years that reversed him. Aches, pains and old injures sorted themselves out. He was a rarity. Among the omega population, only twenty percent were born male and the rest were all female, who had a more nurturing nature. His rarity had been a curse for most of his life, only HYDRA saving him from life in the underbelly. He had joined first because he had been guaranteed heavy duty and very experimental suppressants; as one of the few male omegas, he had first crack at them and disregarded any danger associated with them. It was better to be on them than risk heats every three months in his prime.
Now with the experimentation at its peak, he was back to where he had started when he was twelve and showed his nature. He hadn't been on suppressants since the Triskelion had fallen on him, and his highly regarded and coveted 'maleness' fell away. His hips ached constantly, the scent glands on his neck had developed out of forced dormancy, a considerable amount of his old musculature had not returned despite his aggressive attempts, and looking every bit like the man he had been when he was twenty-five or so, even his facial hair, once so prized by him and always left somewhat rugged, struggled to grow.
Worse, his second heat in twenty-five years had come and gone, leaving him in isolation so as not to send all the other omegas (all female but one other) into heats of their own.
The worst of it was the itch that he had spent most of his time ignoring getting stronger. At first, he thought little of it until the noises of doctors and guards alike giving orders and hurried moving equipment and paperwork. Within hours, the itch grew and Rumlow knew. The Hive had been discovered and was being taken down by whatever remained of SHIELD or the Avengers or whatever organization was giving HYDRA the chase around at this point. He had hoped that he wouldn't come, but the thin thread of bond that was still so new and foreign was searching and crawling through his mind. It was deep already.
Wilson.
Rumlow remained at the back of his cell, his knees pulled up and his arms resting across them as he stared at the door. The prison jumpsuit was almost threadbare and at least see-through in more than a few places, an indication of the time that had passed. It was probably too much to ask that he would be passed over in the raid, and he huffed softly at the sound of gunfire and the invasion. Perhaps Wilson would consider him a lost cause and let him go, but no... even with only thirty minutes of contact, his near death and then disappearance, the bond remained unbroken. Who would leave their bond behind? Him maybe.
Maybe not with his hormones running on full, and while he certainly wasn't a typical omega, he still was one. Certain rules of his nature applied even after thirty years of neglect of them and the same amount of time hating them. He had learned long ago how to manipulate with his hormones; he could do so again as long as his bond didn't step in. Chances? Slim to none.
"Don't do it. You'll regret every single moment of it," he whispered at the closed door. "I'll make you regret."
When: 6+ months post-TWS
What: Tans knows. I know. Yet another reason we have poor life choices because of conversations with each other.
Warnings: Rumlow, dubious science, sex no doubt.
Time was a slippery mistress to chase when one hadn't seen the outside world in a long time. The Hive was a facility that was designed to be both a prison and a feast of scientific advancement, buried in the ground and having little need to have any come to the top three prison levels for any more than resupplying. It was a revolving door of fresh faces and experimentation, hidden within plain sight and maintained by an apparent good standing in a functioning if hard penal system.
Rumlow hadn't had a chance to look at the date when he was stolen from the hospital room, not exactly his first priority. He knew upon awakening and being told he was at the Hive that he had been traded to another division to use up what was left of him. That was fine by him as all previous estimations were that he would never been fully functional as an agent again with the extent of damage that he had suffered. He was fine living out the rest of his life being of service.
Except he didn't die.
HYDRA was always on some advancement, and it seemed interested in the relative youth of the super-soldiers and the limited youth effects of Centipede. It had a good serum made up that was in test phase, and who better to test the effects on then the washed out remains of soldiers from the Washington D.C. failure. It began slowly at first and earnestly when responses were recorded. Alphas, fueled by testosterone and aggression and dominance, showed little production and response, though there was some age-stopping effects noted. Betas, the middle ground that swayed between nature and nurture, were moderately successful and lost a few apparent years and maladies that were associated with age. Omegas, nurturing and estrogen based and designed to take all manner of punishment, responded better than anyone expected. Years bled away (literally), they returned to prime 'breeding' years as it was called and they were suddenly on great interest.
Brock had healed well, his scarring bleeding away with the years that reversed him. Aches, pains and old injures sorted themselves out. He was a rarity. Among the omega population, only twenty percent were born male and the rest were all female, who had a more nurturing nature. His rarity had been a curse for most of his life, only HYDRA saving him from life in the underbelly. He had joined first because he had been guaranteed heavy duty and very experimental suppressants; as one of the few male omegas, he had first crack at them and disregarded any danger associated with them. It was better to be on them than risk heats every three months in his prime.
Now with the experimentation at its peak, he was back to where he had started when he was twelve and showed his nature. He hadn't been on suppressants since the Triskelion had fallen on him, and his highly regarded and coveted 'maleness' fell away. His hips ached constantly, the scent glands on his neck had developed out of forced dormancy, a considerable amount of his old musculature had not returned despite his aggressive attempts, and looking every bit like the man he had been when he was twenty-five or so, even his facial hair, once so prized by him and always left somewhat rugged, struggled to grow.
Worse, his second heat in twenty-five years had come and gone, leaving him in isolation so as not to send all the other omegas (all female but one other) into heats of their own.
The worst of it was the itch that he had spent most of his time ignoring getting stronger. At first, he thought little of it until the noises of doctors and guards alike giving orders and hurried moving equipment and paperwork. Within hours, the itch grew and Rumlow knew. The Hive had been discovered and was being taken down by whatever remained of SHIELD or the Avengers or whatever organization was giving HYDRA the chase around at this point. He had hoped that he wouldn't come, but the thin thread of bond that was still so new and foreign was searching and crawling through his mind. It was deep already.
Wilson.
Rumlow remained at the back of his cell, his knees pulled up and his arms resting across them as he stared at the door. The prison jumpsuit was almost threadbare and at least see-through in more than a few places, an indication of the time that had passed. It was probably too much to ask that he would be passed over in the raid, and he huffed softly at the sound of gunfire and the invasion. Perhaps Wilson would consider him a lost cause and let him go, but no... even with only thirty minutes of contact, his near death and then disappearance, the bond remained unbroken. Who would leave their bond behind? Him maybe.
Maybe not with his hormones running on full, and while he certainly wasn't a typical omega, he still was one. Certain rules of his nature applied even after thirty years of neglect of them and the same amount of time hating them. He had learned long ago how to manipulate with his hormones; he could do so again as long as his bond didn't step in. Chances? Slim to none.
"Don't do it. You'll regret every single moment of it," he whispered at the closed door. "I'll make you regret."
no subject
"Hurry up and get out of here before you make it worse with your hovering," he commented, but Sam was already leaving. It twisted the bond inside of him to see Wilson up and leave him. He was still logical enough to know why and said nothing, reigning in the temptation to reach out. He was stronger than that.
Except when he wasn't. That weakness almost reduced him to cussing loudly.
His heat came on hard and fast, not entirely previously settled from the last time. Within eight hours, he had moved from the bed to the floor, pulling at his shirt to fan air through it as sweat beaded on his skin, drying as fast as it arrived. His legs were spread, his current hospital scrub trousers wet with slink and his breathing deep and frequent as any reasonable mental processing had been reduced to being aware of the bond and the horrible all consuming want of something hard and thick inside of him.
SHIELD let him suffer for a few hours, eyes glazed and uncomfortable. He endured well enough until their alpha agent entered, reeking of pheromones but wearing a mask to prevent any kind response to him. He groaned and arched on the floor as he was bombarded with questions about HYDRA, the Hive and where operations and personnel were stationed.
There was a lot of swearing from him in response, and he backed himself literally into a corner and ended up seizing his hair and tugging on it to concentrate on a little pain as the questions just kept coming. Worst goddamn torture ever as he was wound higher and higher into his own hormones with the presence of an alpha stinking up his room and pressing command after command on him.
Despite himself or because he was himself, he gave up very little information even when crowded in his corner. He had ended up biting his lower lip until it had bled, still tugging on his hair and hiding part of his attention into the very bond he loathed, hiding himself in Wilson and not caring how he did so.
no subject
He was HYDRA, he and his team responsible for no few deaths of numerous SHIELD agents and associates. There was little love lost and just enough put in towards his conditions. The good guys looked shaded pretty gray in his opinion, even if he could understand.
And the sooner they got away from the mess of it, the better.
Idealistic notions of three or four days went out the window as a possibility ten hours later. Maybe there wasn't enough distance between them but he's pretty sure he'd have to be in Asia not to feel Rumlow. Sam woke up in the dim, blind-shut air of the safehouse he and Steve took themselves to, tangled in the blankets and sweating- reaching down to grip himself and the pounding ache that echoed the one in his head. He was barely awake and processing what's going on before he came hard, thickly into his hand and his sleep-shorts after a few seconds. It left him shuddering, gasping while his brain caught up and the obvious finally clicked.
The next groan wasn't pleasured but pained.
Worse. Worse. So much worse than it ever had been before. Sam dragged himself through the next few hours on obvious edge after cleaning himself up in a chilly shower, unable to keep from pacing the safehouse which was really just a small condo flat not meant to hold two alphas when one was on the edge of bond-induced rut. Anyone else and Sam was sure they would have been already at each other's throats. Despite that, Steve still leaves to take a long walk for both of their sakes and get dinner on the other side of the small Arizonian town. Sam only lasts another fifteen minutes with Rumlow's presence now digging into him like the glare of a high-beam blasting from the side of his vision.
He wrote Steve a note instead of calling, grabbed the keys and pushed over 80 the entire time back to the compound. He edged on polite the last time he made his way down to the medical facilities where Rumlow was being kept.
He wasn't polite this round.
Maria intercepted long enough just to shove a keycard in his hand and then nothing and no one else was dumb enough to stand in his way. He wouldn't hurt anyone, or at least he kept telling himself that, but had slammed one of the front guards against the wall when he insisted that he stand still and wait for permission to be radioed up.
He didn't need permission to see his mate. Not with him all by dragging him here through the bond.
Stepping into the cell was a rude awakening , though. Sam snarled, immediately catching the sharp spike of another alpha sticking in the air and Rumlow shoved into the corner with his heat choking thick.
"Did he touch you?" Sam was on him. With him on the floor in a second, hands grasping to pull Rumlow out of that tight curl and give him the space to fit close. Swear to god, he'd kill whoever that alpha was. He'd beat their face in at the very least. They couldn't do this. They couldn't do this to what was his.
"Did he touch you?" He was an idiot for listening, for trying to stay away.
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."
no subject
The kiss was brutal, a hard grip on the back of Rumlow's neck and his head used to drag his head back so he could get at his mouth. Teeth and fighting hunger. Months and moths of pent up need and he needed him. Sam had no doubt that he smelled good to Rumlow, he should, but his bond scented five times more compelling. Hot and metal-sweet with the trace of salt from his sweat and the thick, thick musk from the slick Sam wanted to bury himself in body and mouth.
He tore at Rumlow's shirt until it was off, not carrying if stitches ripped getting it off. His skin was burning hot even through Sam's shirt. The hospital scrubs went next, dragged down soft thighs with his fingers brushing slickness which brought a groan fed into Rumlow's mouth. “God, you're wet.”
They couldn't leave. Not yet. He meant to tell Rumlow that but everything short-circuited in his brain feeling that evidence. “Tell me you want this.” Because if they needed to stop it had to be right here and right now. Sam had no idea if he was going to be able to stop himself without serious damage if they kept going.
no subject
The kiss was exactly what he wanted, and there was little submission in his response as he threw himself into it hard enough to make his own lips bruise let along Wilson's. He growled and clawed at the other man's back, tearing off material without a hint of shame for shredding it. Instead, his blunt nails dragged down the length of Wilson's back, shoving from the wall in a failed attempt to tackle his bond. No, shoved against the wall was far too sweet to do away with it.
He arched, his legs parting and hips rolling as he tipped his head back and exhaled violently as the cooler room air brushed his skin now that everything was off of him. He undulated his body, displaying all for the alpha crowding him. "Heat, asshole. Slick happens for both our benefit."
How he managed both snark and a coherent sentence he had no idea. He was pulling insistently on Wilson, trying to drag the alpha in. He had had heat sex a real long time ago, but this would be the first time with his bond and after twenty odd years, he was on full throttle already. "Goddamn it, fuck me into the wall before you find the floor, Wilson," he hissed, still pulling and certainly offering himself.
no subject
They were half-out of their minds and Rumlow still found in him to be an asshole. Even as the indignant irritation flared Sam felt a sort of edge laughter welling in him, silently huffing in his chest. Maybe it was the bond all but singing through them and the delirious high from that or just the fact it was so fucking Rumlow it almost hurt.
“Like to see you try.” Sam growled, tearing open the front of his pants, pulling his thick and blood-hot cock free while worrying Rumlow's lower lip. He crushed them against the wall, throwing back. Just a reminder of who outweighed who at the moment. And who had no trouble lifting Rumlow right off the floor, hitching him up with legs around the waist before he was folding his mate nearly in half, taking him with Rumlow's knees hooked into the crook of his elbows.
The head of his cock brushed all that wetness on the way to Rumlow's entrance, gliding over it for one torturous pass before he was angling himself, pushing in with a moan so thick it sounded almost hurt as he was enveloped. Perfect. God, it was perfect. He was perfect and Sam refused to stop before he bottomed out and filled him up completely.
no subject
He huffed a noise, arching and clawing at Sam to get the alpha closer to him. "Don't forget I wiped the floor with you the last time we fought," he pointed out before nipping at the scent gland at Wilson's neck, the threat of teeth even as the opportunity to bite was stolen as Sam hiked him right off the floor, his shoulders still rammed against the wall.
He stilled at the torturous tease, biting his lower lip again as he grunted frustration, but then just breathes a noise from his throat as Wilson filled him, his muscles putting up initial resistance and then giving way around the thick girth angling inside of him. His hips were the only thing he could move with his legs pinned as they were, and he instinctively offered his neck, ragged breathe between clenched teeth as the bond was just a flood gate of sensation passing between them. "...harder..." he hissed, even if they hadn't even started, but he wanted more.
no subject
The arch of his neck was like a siren's call and all he wanted to do was sink his teeth in, mark him properly like he should be. Sam only growled in response to Rumlow's hissed demand, hips canting to push himself in deeper though there was no were to go except to drive Rumlow's lower body back. He withdrew and snapped back in, burying his face in the offered crook. He couldn't bite, wouldn't and that slipped through their bond clear enough, but he cloud lick over Rumlow's scent to mingle theirs. He could suck and mark above it and he did while he built to a sharp, punishing pace, each thrust everything but only setting up the need for more.
He'd had good sex before- bruising, snapping alpha-on-alpha fucks that were as much fight as they were pleasure but this with their bond cracking and sparking inside near demolished everything else.
no subject
His arms tightened, drawing Sam in and thrusting harder against his bond at the teasing nips and licks and sucking on his neck. The assurance of a lack of bite warred inside of him, the logical part of himself pleased but the rest demanded the full score of their bond to be shoved to every single corner of his body. He drove himself against Wilson like he was waging war on his bond, but he was pinned to the wall with nowhere to go and no reason to go anywhere else.
His nails dragged down his bond's back as he sucked a dark hickey into Wilson's neck in return, groaning and overheating and desperate for more. It had never been this intense before, never so filling, never so intense as to make him not care who the hell was probably watching.
no subject
He hissed and groaned as Rumlow's nails raised hot welts down his back, arching into the next snap of their hips and just grinding - feeling the coiling pressure of his promising knot begin to swell.
Sam adjusts them, jostling until Rumlow's legs are back around his waist and there's some ease to the bur in his arm from supporting so much of his weight. His neck aches from where that mark's been made livid and strong and he shoves his mate back by the neck, hand curling around and holding him while they kiss again.
All through he barely paused. Couldn't. Neither of them would be satisfied until Rumlow was bred true.
no subject
He arched with the grinding, a cease of stimulation that ripped a snarling curse from him. It was deserved for his antics, but that only made him rake his blunt nails down Sam's back and across his bond's shoulders as he threatened teeth on Wilson's neck like he was some sort of alpha.
His legs curled around Sam's waist tightly, his hands pulling him slightly against the wall to adjust their position so he was half riding Sam and driving his hips down with a fevered aggressive desperation. He kiss was more teeth than lips, and the demand for a bit was on the tip of his tongue and grudging in the bond.
"Come on," he demanded of them both.
no subject
But to have him moving into their mating nearly drove him out of his mind. He couldn't kiss him hard enough, couldn't bite and worry the swollen jut of his lower lip long enough. There was a split soon enough, though he couldn't honestly tell who's lip cracked and who was bleeding. Maybe it was both of them. Sharp, iron coating their hot panting breaths and the slide of their tongues.
“What?” Sam breathed, barely any of the light tenor of his normal voice left. “Can't hold out?” He shifted the angle of his hips, letting Rumlow feel the growing presence at the bottom of his shaft.
no subject
Then he tasted blood and his arms locked around Sam's shoulders with bruising force, his legs tightening much the same so that he rose and fell with a harsh pace, rolling his hips with each of Wilson's thrusts up into him. His muscles strained to keep up, but he felt so good, so free, so bonded that nothing else mattered but the blood on his lips and the length pounding inside of him.
"Shut the fuck up and knot me, Wilson," he growled dangerously and purposefully shoved his body all the way down so the threat of a knot was inside of him. His sweaty skin allowed him to rub himself against his mate's chest, smearing his scent and showing teeth as he threatened towards Wilson's neck again.
no subject
He was growing thicker by the second and it was getting harder to do anything but short, punching thrusts. Part of Sam missed the sliding, the lewd slapping sounds that voiced he was fucking Rumlow hard enough even if his mate kept pushing for it harder. Most of him was revealing in the whole feeling. Whole and right after so long of not having this and craving.
His hands tightened as he swelled, quickly reaching the point in which he couldn't pull out even if he tried and Sam groaned. He kissed Rumlow through it, stealing his breath not letting up while he rutted desperately, feeling the impossibly intense rise of his orgasm start to build. God, he was so close. And Rumlow's body sheathed him, held tight around his aching cock and his knot and he-
He-
no subject
Then he was shoved as he teetered with complete fullness, his shoulders hitting the wall with a resounding slap. He groaned and arched, pressing against Wilson's hands as their thrusting caused his hips to jump and rock again. He managed to claw at his alpha's chest, trying to drag himself closer as the impulse to bear his neck and the other impulse to bite overrode all reason.
His hips were soon just rolling, unable to pull back, but the intensity of being filled and forced to widen to accept a knot at all glazed his eyes as he breathed gulping breaths and howled in pleasure as he came between them. His walls clamped around his mate, locking Wilson in place as his hands seized his alpha's upper arms to just hold onto something as he was set adrift in the most pleasure mind-bending experience ever, making nothing in the way of a coherent noise.
no subject
He didn't, however, expect Rumlow to be able to come without being touched anymore than the fill of his knot. He felt the cant of his hips shift into that desperate searching of completion near and moved to meet it but Sam's eyes widened and then shut tight as a vice clamped down around him in the form of warmth and heat and wet, slick pressure. Sam bucked and toppled over the edge a moment later, his teeth finding the back of his hand instead of Rumlow's neck and Rumlow's cries vibrating strong under his palms.
He came- he doesn't know how hard he came only that it'd been ages since anything like this whited out his mind to such a point. Sam leaned his weight in against Rumlow's check, his groans so deep they felt like they were dragged up from his belly. He filled him with each searing pulse pulled from his body and it felt like bliss.
Sam didn't remember when he dropped down to his knees, still using the wall to keep them from falling over completely. He only knew that he came back to himself shuddering and stroking Rumlow's neglected cock to milk more from his body, his own weakly refusing to stop with the little rolls of his hips- utterly charmed and enamored with its mate. He was blowing air like a racehorse, face pressed to Rumlow's shoulder where a fresh bite stood out raw against Rumlow's skin.
no subject
Yet, he was breathing fast and harsh through his nose as a spread of warmth in his belly took over, and that too felt good. He was clinging unabashedly to his mate, holding on for dear life and, aside from the wall, forced Wilson to support his weight, albeit lighter than when he had been heavily muscled playing the alpha card. The groans were felt as much as heard, and his own sound were lightly higher in pitch, little sighs of pleasure escaping on every harsh exhale.
Time really was meaningless to him. He just felt so good, and only a small thing was lacking and that was the bite to seal the bond completely. He had something else, a painful imprint of teeth on his shoulder that stung when he moved his arms but he enjoyed that flicker of pain far too much.
His hips rolled down on the knot that sealed them together and forward into the hand that stroked him. He managed to unwind one leg from Wilson's waist to shove at the floor, to knock them both over onto the floor, nudge Sam back where he could straddle his mate in plain sight of the window and care as much now about it as when they had started.
"Look at you all sweaty and messy," he hissed with approval, his voice a low guttural growl. "You're fucking mine, Wilson. Nothing and no one gets close to you without my damn say-so."
no subject
He licked his own, eyes narrowing as his chest heaved for air and the overload of sensation eased up. Sam held Rumlow there with his hands on his hips, fingernails digging into his soft flesh in response to the flickers of pleasure he kept getting from the bite.
“You should see yourself.” Wrecked didn't look too bad on the guy. Sam arched, urging his knot that tiny bit deeper. “Goes both ways. You're mine to. No one touches you. No one fucks with you on my watch.”
Which might have been said for anyone listening in more than Rumlow's benefit. The scent of the other alpha was all but gone until the combined intensity of theirs and their mating but Sam couldn't forget it. He meant every word though they were spoken with the fullness of rut on him. Not SHIELD, not HYDRA.
He slid his hands up, finding Rumlow's nipples and pressing against them, pinching one with taut fascination because this was his to touch and protect.
no subject
He ground his hips down, issuing his own choking-sound as the knot burrowed deeper, locking them so there was little available movement for them. The warmth was still lazily spreading in his belly, which seemed to clench in response, and the bite of blunt nails on his hips earned a soft groan.
He turned his head, able to sight himself in the two-way mirror from his current position, and he stretched and arched his back erotically. "I can see just fine," he intoned breathlessly before reaching up to touch the bite on his shoulder, curling a lip at his mate. "You fucking missed."
Yet any particular protest to getting a potential scar and not a full on bond mark was lost as he shuddered and wriggled at the pinching to his nipples. They were far, far too sensitive. He returned the favour at the same time he rolled and ground his hips, riding minimally on his mate.
"Eat it up, Wilson. We were made to do this." Which might have bothered him if he wasn't on cloud-nine of hormones and sex and getting bred right now.
no subject
The way Rumlow arched was fucking sinful and he couldn't tear his eyes away even when they threatened to shut.
"Didn't miss." He dragged the rake of his nails down Rumlow's chest and stomach since he'd appeared to like that well enough and wrapped one of his hands around the sticking heat of Rumlow's cock, stroking him with tight firm pumps which echoed the possessive growls building in his chest. He'd barely touched him here and still he'd fucked him all the wa y to the messy orgasm of which he was smearing with each pass of his hand.
That came with a strange sense of power and pulled on the desire to finish their half-started bond because he wasn't letting this omega go. He shouldn't leave anything to chance though it already was clear there was little possibility of the bond unraveling for them.
"Or are you changing your tune?" He felt his knot begin to ease down, allowing him to buck and actually shift inside of Rumlow's tight body. God, as soon as he could move more he was going to breed him again. The buck was a promise of that and this restless hold they were stuck in sweet torture until he could follow up.
no subject
He knew and frankly didn't care what kind of picture he presented to anyone by Wilson trapped underneath him. His hair (still in desperate need of a trim) clung to his skin, his pupils were blown, and his skin had a sheen of sweat that made him slippery but still very much needy. His hips moved almost impatiently forward and backwards, trying to roll but unable with the knot still keeping them locked together.
"Changing it?" He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to draw on previously coveted logic and finding nothing but instinct crowding his mind. He shook his head a little and finally leaned forward until his hands came to rest on either side of Wilson's head, caging his alpha in as he stared down into the other man's face. "Whatever... it's just you and me right now."
For some reason, the avoidance of a bite, of the full scope of the bond evaded his pleasure soaked brain. It helped that he was easily distracted by the knot receding, allowing him to roll his hips and ride Wilson harder, challenging the buck with his own motions, daring his alpha to make another run for him.
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“Never again.” Sam heard himself saying, muffled into the clashing of their mouths. “We aren't doing that again. It's you and me and it's going to be you and me.” He let Rumlow move while his knot softened and his cock firmed up all over again, occasionally reaching down to grab his mate's ass and slam up to make him moan. It was sentimental, a bleeding bit of raw emotion in the fury of instinct and body Sam was pushing it, the need to make a done fucking deal with the bite coming through despite himself.
Their bond was so strong it was terrible and amazing all at once but he wanted it, god help him.
When he felt like he was slipping out Sam lifted Rumlow while he was rocking back up and slide out completely, the air a shock against his wet cock even as he slid against but not inside Rumlow's ass. He rolled them, putting Rumlow back underneath him. He needed three seconds to get off his pants because he was burning up everywhere and they were just hindering now. “You're mine. Don't move.”
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Right now, it was impossible to consider any kind of separation. Hell, the sheer notion of climbing off of Sam to even have a piss was against every grain right now. It was the bond, throbbing and raw and strong between them, drowning the part of him that wasn't saturated with the heat of his body that wanted nothing more than his alpha. "You try to leave," he said between bites at Sam's lips, "and I'll kill you."
He shuddered at each grab to his ass, each slam, each moan. Already, he was finding himself getting aroused again, flying high on need, so in his prime that it was painful to resist doing anything but screwing his bond on the floor.
He made a snarling cry of disapproval when Sam suddenly left him, leaving an unfulfilled ache and a looseness that was offensive. The only reason he didn't fight was that he was suddenly tipping and rolling to the flat of his back, a position that momentarily froze him as he bared his neck. His fingers still clawed at his bond as if to encourage their union again, not caring about the marks left. "Goddamn hurry up... are you always so slow?"
However, regardless of his protests, he stayed still and made no move to take the top position back yet. He instead hungrily watched Wilson.
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- which then roamed appreciative as a growl built in his chest at the sight Rumlow presented, spread and mused, fucked once but clearly wanting it again with his neck bared just offering-
He pulled off the other boot, socks going with and went to claim. It felt like his cock barely got soft at all he felt himself stiffening up all over again, hard, jutting out, rolling against Rumlow's hip once he deposited them both on the slab that wanted to call itself a bed. At least it didn't have everyone's boot-treads over it and they could collapse more comfortable, together and snug (because it was not set to house two men, even if one was omega) between one round and the next until Rumlow's heat banked enough for them to relocate.
Setting to that and giving them what they both need Sam pushed Rumlow onto his stomach, using his weight to keep him there and thrust to slide himself back in which felt like bliss all over again. “There,” he growled, biting the meat of Rumlow's right shoulder as he started to move. “Am I too slow now?”
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It was the first time in thirty years he could appreciate the power of his status, rather than either loathe it or be indifferent to it. As Sam came forward to crowd him on the floor, he stroked a hand once up the thickness of the man's erection, tipping his chin back further in a rare show of respect even as he was lifted away from the floor and settled on the cold slab that made up his bed.
He hissed at the cold against his burning skin, but he didn't put up more than a snarl when he was flipped onto his stomach. Instead, he set his elbows and elevated his hips, rocking them in invitation that was entirely unnecessary as a moment later Wilson was filling him again. He let out a ragged shout as everything in life just slid into place perfectly.
His shout changed to a groan as teeth flared pain in his shoulder, and he rocked and rolled under Wilson's weight. "Like a goddamn grandmother," he hissed back, trying to balance himself on the slab and ended up with one leg dangling off, but he felt so damn good that he could care less. "Come on, Wilson... mate me as if you actually know how."
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