![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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
Maybe for them it wouldn't be too outrageous to find ones that could damper a bondlink. Just for something less intense, less pulling. Sam looked back at his bonded with a flatness that clearly spoke to Rumlow answering his own question while he was asking it.
"But it's possible. I don't know. I haven't done this before, fyi. Cap says it's manageable but... he's sort of different too." Steve wasn't keen on being experimented on so he'd been told it was largely untested but there were loose theories of how the supersoldier serum enhanced the synchrony of bonding while allowing bondmates to survive apart with less strain.
Or it was just Steve being Steve.
Sam chewed on the inside of his mouth, wanting to mention the secondary plans that were in place just in case SHIELD didn't let both of them go in a way that was actually reasonable, which he'd been doubting the whole mission. They needed to tag along on the run to get Rumlow out, they didn't need them much after figuring out if Rumlow was going to stay stable.
"For the record, I'm going to say it makes no sense that this happened to us." And he'd heard of some cooky bonds.
no subject
That was a lie. He was in the hands of the enemy being taken to only HYDRA knew where to be pulled apart bit-by-bit. It didn't stop him from shifting his arm deeper under the jacket he was using for a pillow and grip Wilson's wrist, his thumb passing over the scent gland for the remainder of their trip as he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He was no where close to it as much as he knew he needed it.
He didn't know how long they spent in the van, but his eyes snapped open when it stopped. He pushed himself up and allowed himself to be drawn away to a SHIELD facility, one that he knew only from the books and little else. It was a medical center, and he suspected it now doubled as a prison and a military outpost to launch missions from. Of course, he would only see two ends of that, and he glanced back only once to Wilson as they were separated in the hallway. It was a lingering glance.
He was stripped down, given an opportunity to bathe under supervision, do his teeth, brush his hair and shave what little hair he had managed to grow on his face. Then the tests started, blood tests first (how the hell did they need that much?), questions about his project at the facility. He was read his rights around that time, impressing upon him that he had no other option but to cooperate and the only way that he was going to get the one thing that he wanted (suppressants) was to at least give them everything on what had happened to him in the Hive.
When he resisted, he was taken to a prison cell that doubled as a ward room. He was hooked up to an intravenous fluid drip to replenish his fluids and a bland meal that looked like something they would feed the asset. He picked at it, mostly because he was distracted by the bond that linked him with Wilson.
He didn't like being separated. He gritted his teeth, insisting to himself that it was an 'omega' thing and once he had the pills, he'd be just fine again. Ah yes, his blood results were back hours later. His hormones were all over the place, and not just from post-heat either: he was showing long term signs of deprivation. He was also malnourished, dehydrated but enviously functional like any good twenty-five year old. That he expected and still didn't answer their questions about how he was what he was. They'd take more samples soon enough he knew, once the tubes of blood already taken led to no real results.
He sighed and picked at the edge of the tape holding his catheter in his vein, ignoring the pull to reach out or call out for Wilson. Just an omega thing. No big deal; he'd handled it before. You know, when he was like seventeen.
no subject
And he was about as conflicted, twisting over how much effort it took to sit in his plastic chair and stay put through the beginning session of their debriefing. He could still feel the weight of Rumlow's eyes on him before they were set in opposite directions - his hair had been mused from sleeping on the jacket Sam didn't even try to let him keep, his face continuing along in its soft guise which wasn't quite right but still appealing. It'd been a glance though it stuck for a moment. Even after Rumlow was lead off he stared after him, only nudged into moving by Steve's hand on his shoulder and his voice softly calling.
Debriefing was always the most annoying part of the whole mission, even past the wearying grind of waiting boredom. Hill headed it, each of the three teams reported with Steve giving theirs on the isolation and Specialized Projects wards. Rumlow was mentioned, a few of the other HYDRA agents recovered had still been fitted with their own self-termination triggers, which they hadn't hesitated in pulling once they realized who their rescuers were.
All in all the mission had been fairly successful and unsettling like anything dealing with HYDRA was. Though it raised a fair number of new questions there were still some answered.
After the formal debrief came the individual one with Coulson on tap through a holographic screen that made HD look pretty paltry. That's when attention turned sharply towards him and Rumlow, towards the bond. Did he learn anything? (Not much) Did Rumlow elaborate on what was done to him? (Minimally) How deep was the bond?( Significant. Though Sam started to find himself hedging, feeling too exposed under the scrutiny and the bonding expert brought in).
He echoed Rumlow's demands for suppressants, arguing that he might actually be more manageable on them than not. He did so with his hand right on Rumlow's file, which he was flipping through to find exactly what he'd been taken before. "He wasn't always like this and an omega, he's probably not able to balance himself-"
Which is when Hill cut in with a pinch between her brows. Then she told him, told him that Rumlow was always an omega to Sam's uncomprehending stare.
She slid back several pages in the electronic file on the tablet he held to the HYDRA one, not SHIELD"s which still clearly listed Brock Rumlow as Alpha.
Omega.
With the line of the suppresants he'd been taken typed in neatly. He wasn't familiar with the brand (or rather, not-brand) but it had Omega in it's designation.
Sam's eyes flicked over to the date. Last updated a good year before Project Insight came crashing down.
"...Always?"
"By birth."
"He never said that."
Sam wasn't quite so proud at how he mostly tuned out after that. Tactful and perhaps sympathetic, Hill kept the rest of the briefing short but Sam found himself chafing with the combination of side-looks from Coulson, Maria and Steve.
He was dragged to medical just the same, blood was drawn and the promise of results soon but one look over from the doctor had him saying that he looked bond-starved.
Sam was severely tempted not to follow the thread pulling at him towards where he felt Rumlow was, let him rot. Let him just stay there and be a lab toy because he didn't want to look at him.
Except for he did.
They weren't all that enthused to let him in when he showed up on the medical floor of the facility but some low steady insistence and maybe whatever the agent saw in the flat look of his eyes convinced him to give them at least fifteen minutes. Everything was sterile, without the twisted rank of the Hive laying underneath. Chrome-blue walls and glass fronts to the cells. Part-prison, part-med ward, part-lab. Rumlow was the sole occupant all over again. He found his cell and came near with his boots scuffing light.
He leaned on the glass wall, one arm bent up and bracing flat against the cold surface. "Hey."
Which he wasn't pushing alpha tones, they were there shadowing the bottom of that single word without any effort, pulling on the bond, shifting though the speaker that turned on once he reached over to the side and placed his hand on the light-blue patch of glass that turned it on. His position was still up and braced, caging without touch.
"You got anything else you need to tell me?"
One more shot.
no subject
HYDRA had been his salvation, the one place to offer him the only things that he wanted: purpose and physical ability to deny what he was. He had given everything that he could to HYDRA because it had given him what he needed, and his commitment was for life without a hint of wayward thought on the matter. He served well and easily. No one bothered him because of his status but bothered him when he wasn't measuring up. Otherwise, he earned his place and his lumps like everyone else.
The bond tugged at him, foreign but familiar now. The distance between himself and Wilson was closing, and he tried vainly to squish the pleasure of knowing that his bond was close and getting closer. Why would anyone else want to visit him aside from to plumb for information on what he knew?
Something was off in that bond though, and it was curious enough that he turned his head to view the glass that separated his little cell with the halls and rooms. It was a nicer prison but still one, and he had no doubt that he would be kept here for as long as it took to tease the details of his existence and current appearance out of him. Maybe Wilson was coming to say good-bye, off on another mission somewhere and leaving him behind to endure. It was what he was good at.
His dark eyes took in his bond when Wilson appeared at the window, and he stood from the bed, grabbing the IV pole to pull it with him over to the window. As he came closer, he stopped a few steps away and knew that the truth was out, that Wilson knew what he was and how they happened to be a real match rather than a really natural oddity. Alphas didn't bond with alphas; alphas bonded omegas and sometimes betas.
Rumlow sighed heavily, meeting Sam's gaze despite the fact he probably shouldn't. He approached the rest of the way and leaned his arm against the window, letting his temple settle on the glass near Wilson's arm.
"I've been on suppressants since I was nineteen. I've wanted them since I was seventeen," he said simply. "HYDRA asked only for my loyalty if I got what I wanted; we both won, so it came to be." He knew that anything he said could be used against him, but that part should be obvious by now, if Sam knew that he had been born into his world as he was.
"The only one to hate my status more than myself was... my old man," he said very softly. "Always wanted a son, he said, then I turned twelve and... well, whatever." He shrugged his shoulders like it was all water under the bridge for him, something long ago accepted as just another aspect of his past which he so often didn't look back on. "My suppressants are all experimental. Before Insight washed out, I was basically killing myself with that shit, but I didn't care. To everyone, I could be alpha so long as it didn't kill my liver and they got to know how that shit worked in real life situations."
He huffed and cast a glance at Wilson. "Then I was transferred to the Hive where the serum they created worked best on omegas. Anything else you want to know?"
no subject
Sam's right hand curled into a fist and lightly thumped against the wall. He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath,.
“I was up there pushing for that shit without a clue. I asked you back there.” He was going to ask if Rumlow was just going to let him keep on thinking that he'd always been an alpha until recently but the answer was clear enough through demonstration and recent explanation.
“We're so fucked.” There had been some hopeful shred keeping him calm when he thought that maybe the serum or at least the designation could be reversed but now that was gone and he felt trapped. Trapped and wholly unsure how they were going to make this work. His laugh was short and tight and only amused in the most obscure sense. “Even when you were on them back then we still bonded.”
no subject
Bonds did that, right? He would perhaps actually request information on it.
"I answered one of your questions, but I didn't specify which one. HYDRA de-aged me, and they technically turned me back into an omega by denying me suppressants." It was a weak technicality that wouldn't even hold up in court, but it had been his choice to do as he pleased, the first time in awhile.
He tilted his head and closed his eyes, feeling the stirring that had never quite gone away in the lab the last week. It was getting stronger again, a slow burn that first crept awareness up his spine. "Clearly you and I were really meant for each other," he said sardonically. He suddenly shoved off the glass and gripped his pole again. "And if we want to keep from the fucking part of your statement, you better get out of here."
no subject
He watched Rumlow close his eyes with wary discomfort, trying to figure out where they go from here. What they're going to do and if he should give Steve the tip off to move them out. There was no guarantee that Rumlow wouldn't just make a beeline for the nearest gun once he a longer leash and off himself- or Sam and drag himself through the ramifications if it didn't immediately take him down too.
It's hard, really hard, to believe they were meant for each other.
He almost missed what was being implied with that last statement. There was an automatic flare, Sam reaching for the scent of it though he couldn't with the glass between them. "You just had one, you can't be on the edge of another."
But even normal omegas could end up grossly irregular when they got off suppressants...
Sam pressed his hand flat to the glass, carefully pushing himself back.
no subject
He walked back to his poor excuse for a bed and seated himself, pretending to be interested in the tape when he was far, far more interested in either staying near the glass near Wilson or wait for the alpha pointedly at the door. He had enough self-control to avoid both, to give his bond time to rush away and save them any sort of action that they would no doubt come to regret.
Could they...? No, they couldn't. In the truck, they had proven how bad it had been, how strong the tide was that would swallow them both if they just let it happen.
"I am," he said simply. "I figure us being thrown together and then suddenly parted again helped, though... you can't deny that you almost rutted in the van. You considered biting me. If my brain picked that up, you can't damn well be sure my body did."
He was so screwed. He needed those suppressants badly if he was going to head this off. He doubted anyone as severely and chronically bond starved as he was was going to get what he wanted, not when it played most into the hands of the people wanting answers. He wondered if Wilson was also showing signs of bond starvation. He knew alphas could, but it was after a life-bond, wasn't it?
no subject
All of it screamed life-bond.
"Considered. It wouldn't have happened." But that was a tiny point that didn't do anything to help the fact that it was likely a good source for inducing a fresh new heat for Rumlow's body. He'd wanted to bite and rut and his instincts clamored to have what'd been denied for far too long.
Sam backed up. He didn't want to, he wanted to open the door as much as Rumlow wanted to be there waiting for him but it'd only make it worse.
"You give them something you might actually get suppressants," he reminded him. It didn't have to be anything big. Sam was all for Rumlow splitting hairs in a thousand of ways if it could make sure he would be operational when they needed to move. "It doesn't have to be lab rat for the rest of your life."
He didn't mean with SHIELD but he couldn't come right out and say that with their monitoring fixated on the both of them. It was tempting to reach out and try to tell Rumlow directly, through the bond but he didn't want to chance that - not with the memory of what happened in the van here brought up anew.
no subject
"And what am I going to give them, huh? I give them something while I'm like this, and it's all the more reason to squeeze me for more," he replied sullenly, drawing his legs up towards his chest and draping his arms across his knees. "They've already taken more blood than they need for simple tests on my health."
He looked to the window despite his better judgement to keep staring straight ahead. If this went where it seemed to be, it was going to be a rough ride. Already he was exhausted and hungry from his last heat and if another came on for the full four days, he wondered if he was even going to be sane on the other side. He'd have to make do; if he got tired enough, he'd just pass out. That might be the only blessing.
"Just... maybe you should put distance for three or four days. It will remove temptation." It wouldn't wouldn't it? He had no idea with the bond now stronger still.
no subject
Hilarious, simultaneously wanting to be with someone and not.
"Maybe."
A very doubtful maybe. " Definitely won't help if I just stand here and breath on you." So, he'll go.
"If it gets worse..." There was an honest desire in him not to know Rumlow would have to suffer through a full-blown heat on his own again. But he sighed, scrubbing his face. "Let's just hope it doesn't. And for the record? Sounds like your dad was a real asshole."
He'd mention that it might run in the family but that mix of an odd empathetic insult went unsaid.
There wasn't much else to say. They certainly weren't at the point for tearful goodbyes so Sam left with one last look. Ignoring the itch scratching at the back of his neck and his palms at putting space between them like the bond was physically protesting it all.
Three days was just three days. What was that on top of the six months they'd already gone through? Three days to work out a plan and that was a damn near luxury considering the past half-year.
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)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)