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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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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-
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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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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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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.
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His hips and ass flexed up and back, impaling himself on his mate as hard as he could so that moans and curses were wrung from him, as close to words as he could manage. The bond was hot and heavy in his mind, pressing a security that he had never wanted and thought he had never needed across him. The hot weight of Wilson's chest against his back helped too, the slide of their sweat-slick skin against each other even as he hissed in both wordless pleasure and frustration at the flare of pain on his shoulder. He tipped his head to the side, exposing the side of his neck again and not even caring that the offer was once again being made. In that moment, he simply felt like he needed it.
"Wilson... come on..." he half-snarled, half-howled.
The bond was growing rapidly, but it felt like it was missing something vital. He didn't and couldn't fathom it. He just rammed back, hoping and needing it to feel complete.
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Only more.
Only his mate tipping his head in clear invitation for at least the third time now, voice harsh in his beckoning with the same need that sang through the bond and kicked the roughness in his
If he didn't that'd leave all of this unfinished. Someone else could mark him, take him though he knew his mate would likely kill anyone who tried. He could lose him and the overwhelming grasp of instinct latched on his mind so much like teeth on its own couldn't stomach the idea.
Sam lifted his mouth away from Rumlow's shoulder, raw and red and clearly claimed there. He shoved his face into his mate's neck, groaning harsh and open those something in the back of his clamored to get him to stop.
More of him gathered at how right it felt. Breeding his mate, giving everything that the ruthless demand of his heat impressed on them. Sam felt that missing part of the bond as well, like claws digging out something hollow and cold against the other warmth.
He buried himself once more, mouth opening over the slightly swollen fragrance of his scent glands.
And he bit.
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The hot pull of the bond had his attention fixated entirely on Wilson behind him, and he found himself getting to know a man he barely knew anything about. It was warm, secure, and welcoming with the undertone of desperate vicious need. It threatened to overwhelm him separately, to loosen his very grip on himself and wash them away.
And then Sam's teeth sunk into his skin and forced the hardened, swollen gland in his neck to contract under the pressure. Bonding endorphins and hormones flooded his system immediately, ripping a sound that no human throat normally made in any other situation, a cross between a yelp and a trill.
His world shifted instantly. Aspects and parts of himself that had never seemed out of place before suddenly aligned, old fears of bonding were washed aside, and there was a sudden pleasure filled peace that he had never known even existed. A part of him that had played the part of alpha so long rebelled and had their positions been different, he probably would have bitten right back. Instead, he let out a low moan as he experienced the sensation of being welcomed like never before, a safe place, a chance at a life that had never existed until that moment.
Rumlow came as the bond alighted through every nerve in his body, spilling himself over his mate's hand as he drove back onto Wilson's erection and clamped with a desperate unrelenting grip. His muscles and body rolled silently, begging and making every effort to make up for lost time, wasted time now that they were together for the first time.
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Rumlow's low moan was echoed and he felt the tension suddenly build and release as his mate came. Through it Sam continued to hold onto him, move in him while his knot swelled to follow in suit. He all but whined as Rumlow's body clamped around him and the swell at the base, pushing forward into one last one of Rumlow's matching undulations before he was set deep in him and tied, coming with harsh groans spilling out between the merciless sink of his teeth. This is mine. No one was going to be able to deny that with how deep the mark he was going to leave would go. He tasted omega and Rumlow and traces of blood from broken worried skin but it was exactly how it should be.
Sam kept rocking even after the first aching pulses through his cock ebbed into something shorter and Rumlow was filled again. He reached around, hitching the other man closer to him to keep him from falling and between to stroke Rumlow's cock through the last bit of his while finally releasing the near-brutal hold in his neck and licking over the wound. There his own nature and not harsh instinct filtered back in. He lapped and laved, pausing to pant and to nuzzle against the back of Rumlow's sweat-damp hair.
Sam held him tight both in the bond and in the flesh, shuddering at the open floor between them and the parts of Rumlow he'd never been able to feel. It felt nearly as intense as it'd been in the truck but on the complete opposite end of the spectrum because this -
This felt right.
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Slowly, he reached back with a hand to set it to the back of Wilson's head, fingers trembling slightly with the continued rock and waves of pleasure that left him reeling and cast out like they were at sea. He braced on his one forearm, probably only maintaining his position because there was the warm brace of arms around his middle holding him from just slipping off the bed even if it could never break the knot and tie of their bodies.
He shuddered when those pressure on his neck lifted, the warm slide of blood on his flesh not something that he paid attention to. It was expected in a bonding process, and his fingers just half touched, half clung to the back of Wilson's head as he worked on just breathing and rubbing his back into Sam's chest as his eyes half-closed with the nuzzling. He rolled his hips just to feel to tug of the knot, the inescapable fact that the pair of them were so in trouble and he doubted either of them cared one bit about it.
"...Wilson, you gonna make it?"
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