When it rains

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Who: Brock Rumlow & Sam Wilson
When: Pre-HYDRA reveal
What: STRIKE team training. Sam is a new recruit and Rumlow breaks him in. Literally?
Warnings: Uniform smut.


STRIKE had been assigned three weeks to Camp Lehigh, abandoned or not for training. They had two new guys and were rotated through the schedule to have time off for both team-building and tactical training, which was old hat for most of them being the veterans of the group. It was more to test out the new kids on and integrate the pair in without the pressure of highly sensitive mission details and objectives. It was also a chance to see how the pair would fit in with the true objectives of their mission, which had little to do with SHIELD mandates.

A week and a half in and Rumlow had taken a personal interest in one of the two recruits, as was his right and position as captain to do so. Rollins took over the other man as second in line, an agreement that had come between them with a game of rock-paper-scissors and a punch to the gut. Rumlow had won, of course, so he picked Samuel Wilson, ex-pararescue from the military.

Wilson was one of the few guys that he had ever seen basically fly over the air at a dead sprint, and it was impressive. The guy cut an impressive figure in a STRIKE uniform too, and he'd drawn Wilson off from the group shining weapons in the barracks to practice some hand-to-hand combat in the yard that was secluded. Rumlow liked very few men who weren't veterans but Wilson was alright, the kind of guy who he'd only punch for fun rather than meaning it for real.

Then the sky had opened up in the middle of their training session and sent a deluge down upon them. By the time he decided that throwing each other in the mud wasn't the way to go, they were soaked to the bone, black uniforms clinging to their bodies and his hair looking messy and clinging to his forehead and cheeks. He smirked as he licked rain from his lips and ran his fingers through his hair to push it back from getting into his eyes.

"Race you back to the barracks," he said and immediately took off sprinting and splashing across the grounds. He had a head start but knew that it wouldn't last; Wilson had some legs on the guy.

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This was all aggression and opportunities, and he had no reason to hold back now that it seemed that they were on the same page with each other. No one else had to know, but then again, half of STRIKE was a bunch of gossips. At least outside in the bushes it was unlikely that they would be seen and that this illusion of privacy was enough to make him bold.

He groaned and tilted his head at the hot lips against his jaw, smirking at the sheer audacity of the question. "The view is just that damn good," he replied slyly. "And I can keep you here as long as I like."

He rolled with the scuffling, keeping himself firmly on Wilson and refusing to relent for the time being, even if branches swayed around them and they managed to sink deeper and break more branches. There was several snaps from the branches before he leaned down and bit at Wilson's neck and up to the other man's jawline. "Come on... put some effort into it. Make it hurt, huh?"

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“Yeah?” Sam challenged, though he'd admit the view wasn't so bad from where he was too. There were hints of his mouth on Rumlow's neck, nothing damning but the temptation was there and the man was solid against him. The thrill of this and the rush of the downpour around him was making him bolder, right-out reckless. “I certainly hope you're going to do more than just admire, sir.”

The 'sir' slipped out but Sam went with it, swearing as calling Rumlow that right then with a clear insubordinate air went right to his dick. They kept breaking the bush down and Sam was pretty sure his back was a mess of scrapes from trying to break free before Rumlow made it clear where he wanted to stay put.

“Not going to clock you hard enough you can't see this through. It'd be hell explaining that to the rest of the team.” He would however sink his teeth into whatever tender parts he could reach. Right then it was Rumlow's earlobe, put within reach if he turned his head as Rumlow made his way up his jaw.

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The rain pounded down on his back, particularly the back of his neck where tendrils of water traced lines and dripped off into Wilson's. It was a glorious sight even as they wrestled in the bushes, spilling more droplets from one another, his hands fastened around his subordinates shoulders even as he knew the bush was probably not a comfortable place to settle.

"Oh, admiring is just the start," he replied, showing his teeth and warmed by the 'sir' himself. God, it wasn't supposed to sound that damn hot when they were in the rain like this clearly breaking rules together.

"You don't have to explain anything to them; that's the beauty of the chain of command," he hissed before he made a complete lie out of that statement with his biting. He groaned and ground his hips into Wilson's, tilting his head to the teeth and feeling himself get hard far too quickly. He gripped the other man's shoulders and rolled them out of the bush to the soaked grass instead, hidden by foliage as he reached out to grab Wilson by the dog tags and drag the man's mouth to his own for another searing kiss that was more teeth than lips.

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Damn straight he was if he ended up walking around the barracks with hickeys and no leave time to explain where the fuck they came from. No fight with a bush was going to cover that. But even still every time Rumlow's teeth snapped at his skin he groaned even as he shoved him back.

They hit the ground with Sam struggling to be on top, losing all of that little victory the moment Rumlow found his dogtags that had come free in all their scuffling and used them to drag him down. He moaned and swore helplessly into that kiss even as he fought into it, grinding down against Rumlow's cock just as hard as his own as that- that gesture did it and then some for him. He had two sets of tags on his chain and they clinked under the downpour in the clench of Rumlow's fist.

"That how it is?" he questioned between one pass, not a shred of belief in his voice. His hands fell down to Rumlow's pants, starting to work at the wet fabric to open them up. "Right here, right now. Let me suck you off."

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It was a good think that their jackets had high-collars or there may be questions raised, not that he couldn't just shut everyone up. STRIKE was excellent about keeping one another's secrets, even if it generally came with internal teasing or looks. His interest in Wilson would be protected and allowed to go where it would as long as it didn't interfere with missions and training.

He settled onto his back, setting his boots against the grass so he could make an attempt to roll them at any time that it suited him. His fingers laced in the chain that held Wilson's tags as their lips crashed together, hard and hot, and it made his toes curl in his boots pleasantly. Their grinding wasn't making him want to stop, that was for certain.

"When I'm in charge, yeah," he replied between nips, and he thrust his hips up towards Wilson's hand. "You do that, rookie. And when you're done, you get your choice of me fucking you against the grass or a tree."

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A new punch of heat went through Sam at that, making him shut his eyes tighter and roll his hips hard one last time to ease the hot lash that went right down to his cock. “I'll think on which I prefer, sir.” Because god, he wouldn't be able to stop that now.

Sam skipped down Rumlow's body, opening up the front of his pants and pulling the thickness of his cock out to the rain and the air and his mouth. He licked the falling drops away from the side of his length, tasting salt-sweat and water and the underlying flavor of skin that had to be just Rumlow himself. He lapped and dragged his way up to the head while holding the base of his shaft in his fist. Sam's eyes had closed on the first contact against his tongue but he opened them as he sucked at the head of his CO's cock, sighting up the line of his body while his free hand went to spread and fan out under the cling of his black-issue shirt.

Not a bad view from where he was, laying flat out between Rumlow's propped legs. Not a bad view at all.

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Rumlow relented on Wilson's tag, releasing them to dangle and jingle lightly together as the other man shifted down his body. He groaned and shook water from his face, not that it mattered as more just continued to fall and half-blind him. Even he recognized this as a vulnerable position to be in. Did he care? Nope, not one bit.

He spread his legs around the width of Sam's shoulders, lazily setting his ankles against Wilson's sides as he groaned loud and wanton with the new exposure that wasn't the rough fabric of his trousers. He arched his back, pressing himself towards that hot talented tongue even as he snapped a hand down but found little to no hair to actually grip. What a shame.

He lifted his head and peered down at Wilson in the same way that Sam was peering at him, but he offered a cocky smirk and blew a teasing kiss down the length of his body. "I think... you're a team keeper."

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Sam snorted, rolling his eyes at the kiss as much as anyone could with a dick in their mouth. He lavished the spot just below Rumlow's head for another second before pulling off, spit and rain mixing on his lips. "I'm not blowing the whole team, though."

The man under him was pretty much the only one he wanted to suck down and dry. Speaking of that, Sam got back to it, lowering his head back down to lick up what fresh rain fell down on him, settling under the weight of Rumlow's boots in his side which set his cock aching pleasantly, still caught in his fatigues. He suck down one bob after another, each one with a fair amount of tongue circling until he was focusing his attention on just taking him down and working against the reflex to gag.

He went on with one hungry pass after another until he was nestling up against coarse hair and Rumlow was in his throat. A moan half-victorious and all satisfied echoed in his throat.

And then he swallowed, wetly working around the thickness of Rumlow sliding down his throat which felt better than he imagined every time he worked himself off.

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"No you are not," he said in complete agreement. "That's a personal activity we keep between us, especially when it's raining."

That was quite a sight too, even as he blinked rain from his eyes and watched Wilson's mouth work. It caused his toes to curl in his boots as he groaned and rolled his hips off of the ground in reply. He dropped a hand down to the back of Wilson's head while his other arm propped up his head comfortably even as his eyes half-closed as he thrust up with each bob down on his erection, pleasure burning out any sense of cold within his muscles.

"God damn," he hissed between clenched teeth when Wilson deep-throated him, arching his back against the wet grass. "Fuck, don't make me humiliate myself out here in the rain, Wilson." Because he was getting closer to coming than he expected with those antics. Geez, give a commander a break, okay?

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Did that make this their new rainy day ritual? Because if it did Sam could certainly live with that. Sam let Rumlow thrust up into his mouth, backing off so he wasn't choking to the point they'd have to stop but still letting him hit the back of his throat, gripping his hips hard every time he choked, swallowed and recovered. The rain covered his noises for the most part but not Rumlow's voice or his hissing.

Sam hummed with cat-like amusement as his CO arched. Hell, it was a thing feeling that, listening to him and made him only want to suck harder.

That fast, though, huh?

He drew back, mouth flush, working his jaw as he slowly jacked Rumlow while he looked up with dry humor. "You can always redeem yourself in the showers." Which sounded far more appealing to be fucked in than up against the bark of a tree.

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If he could arrange it for becoming a ritual, he certainly was going to make every effort to at this point. Wilson was free to go around doing whoever or whatever the guy wanted, but he could claim he had it first. His fingers scrubbed over Sam's short-cropped hair, touching but not holding the other down (not yet anyway).

His chest heaved, looking more exaggerated because of his wet clothes clinging to his chest and stomach. His hips continued to roll under the hand, smirking at Wilson. "Is that where you want to get all clean and dirty, Wilson? You know I found a private bathroom that actually still works. You can make all manner of lewd noises for me there..." he said, smirk growing to be more of a grin.

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And there was really no doubt in Sam's mind that that Rumlow would be able to get him loud, get him vocal. That grin promised things and the man was the type that saw through on his promises as much as his threats.

And there were times were the bare of his teeth made them one in the same.

"I think I can see that working out," Sam replied, shifting slightly at the mere thought. While he's not doing much about it he's hard and if it hadn't been just muddy dirt below him he would have considered pressing down a little shamelessly to get some relief from where his cock pushed and ached against the front of his uniform pants.

"Long as you'll be ready to go again."

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He would pride himself on getting all manner of noises from Wilson, especially if he had those long lean legs wrapped around his hips. God that would be something to see. Could he arrange it so he had Wilson against a wall where he could view them in a mirror? Damn rights he could, and he would too.

"I bet you can," he agreed, noting the shifting and gripping the back of Wilson's neck with his wet fingers. Given how soaked through they both were, it was difficult to get a good grip. "How you doing down there, Wilson? You want to come up here and I'll see about helping you with the problem you're obviously sporting."

Because damn if that wasn't hot, them rolling around in the mud and rain gripping each other. "My libido is just fine. Hope you can keep up."