For themission

[infligere]

[Being a rare case had done him no favours, not from the time he was born, not from the time he showed his true nature and certainly not for any heat that he happened to be subjected to. Rumlow might have been an aggressive, bossy and ugly-ass omega, but his scent when in heat brought all the alphas to the yard. Both literally and figuratively.

It had been an unpleasant surprise for his parents. It had gotten so bad that they built a scent-proof room for him to languish his heats away in, just to keep all the alphas trying to break in or calling at the windows at all hours. It had been an even more unpleasant and uncomfortable surprise for those interim years where he lived on the streets, fending for himself. Man had he missed his 'room' when a heat had struck. It hadn't gotten that much better when he had been taken into the fold of HYDRA and poked and prodded for his rarity. He joined for the ideal, he stayed for the experimental suppressants.

He'd been doing so well, kicking the shit out of alphas and betas alike to get them to fall into line. He forced them to respect him or at least hate him enough to respect him for what he was doing as he trampled over anyone that stood between himself and mission success. He acted more like an alpha than the omega he was born to be, and that had nothing to do with suppressants. He gave quarter to no one, and he would rather get himself off on the ugly end of his pistol than have a go around with any of the men he worked with. All was right with his world for the first time, which meant everything had to go south fast.

Meeting the Winter Soldier had been that plummet right to personal Hell. Maybe it was the super-soldier serum. Maybe it was the sheer magnitude of the violence that followed that alpha around. Maybe it was that deep down, Rumlow was just looking for an alpha who could slam him into the ground and take none of his shit and somehow leaving him hissing and whining at the same time. Either way, the Winter Soldier was his Achilles heel, somehow with hormones that undid all the precious work of the suppressants and leaving him in random heats all over the place.

They mated by the end of the first mission they had served on together. He vowed as he lay under that metal arm locked to that warm chest that he'd someday kill the Soldier.

And so began their tumult 'relationship'. He'd go on a new suppressant, the Soldier would be thawed for a mission and he'd get a heat out of the deal. They have a go around with all the snarling and shoving that came with that sort of endeavoring, and the Soldier would go to the frost and wake up more well-behaved than the technicians had ever seen. Apparently getting laid did wonders for a blank weapon's mental state. Who knew? HYDRA was fascinated and so kept them on-again, off-again together for missions like they were two prized breeding aliens whose function wasn't quite known yet.

Today's mission was a search and destroy. Simple, clean, get in and get out. It never ended that way, not when the building supports were laced with explosives that brought that whole thing down. Even while he was choking on dust and cursing, he knew that going for the ex-Soviet big-wigs was never a good idea given their apparent hand in creating the Soldier. That's how building were dropped on teams, and here they all were, everyone separated, some possibly dead.

He found himself in the lucky zone of having a slab of wall crash down where it had enough space to move around and locate and fresh source of air. It was currently clogged with cement dust, but he knew that was the way out. Unfortunately, his body had already began to work itself into its usual state after a ten hour flight sitting next to the Winter Soldier with his fingers crossed that this time the suppressants would work. No go... he was heading fast and hard into his temperamental heat and his scent would be clogging up the place in no time.

Maybe all the alphas were dead. Maybe the Soldier was dead. Maybe just buried and too far away to scent him. Or maybe running free hunting down the mission target. He admired the Soldier's tenacity when it came to eliminating people with extreme prejudice. He began to claw and shove at the hole leading out, trying to budge the chucks of cement enough that he might wiggle free. He didn't call for help; he was above that currently. He'd get out because he knew that there was never anyone to do something for him no matter what was going in his pants.

He didn't need anyone. Except when he did.]

Comments

[themission]

The asset understood his priorities, because they never changed. First priority: fulfill the mission objective, complete the mission as specified. Second priority: ensure his commanding officer's safe retreat from the field. Both priorities were to be fulfilled, if necessary, at the cost of his own life; on the scale of priorities his own safe return was a distant third. The asset was valuable, in the sense that much time, money and resources had gone into shaping him into the weapon he was, to be aimed and deployed wherever his masters chose. If possible he was to be preserved so that he could be used again. The asset understood that. He understood, also, that this was the extent of any priority concerning him. He was a weapon. That was his purpose. Any other need or distraction that occurred in his body--pain, hunger, terror, remorse--was of no significance whatsoever.

The asset understood that, but there had been a flaw in the reasoning of his wise masters when they had broken him over and over to reshape him from man to weapon, an aberration in the plan of the little scientist whose face was a distant and horrifying imprint scarred onto his fried and (fuckin' useless) brain. He was an alpha. Perhaps they hadn't known? No one had ever gone into heat around him during that time, and the years of torture, deprivation and tinkering in his mind had served as a far more effective suppressant than any medication. Too bad: probably his masters would have put a bullet in his skull if they'd understood what he was and found a more pliant subject, rather than waste time creating a weapon who at times, by biological necessity, could not be controlled.

The greater minds of Hydra probably considered themselves fortunate to have an available omega serving as the asset's handler, whatever Rumlow thought of it. The asset didn't have to go far to satisfy biological imperative, and the occasional release made him even more pliant than before, sated and obedient.

He had completed the mission: first priority. The targets were dead and the building in rubble, and even if the explosions had been meant to destroy him and his handlers they had served just as well for furthering the mission objectives. The asset knew several of his handlers were dead. That did not concern him overmuch, though there was a chance he might be punished for failure to protect them. But ordinary handlers were not a first or a second priority; his commanding officer was, and the asset was searching for him now, to confirm death or to engineer his escape.

The search didn't take long. He could smell him soon: that mouthwatering scent that cleared all awareness of priorities from his mind, and left a different set of objectives in its wake.

The asset grabbed a piece of concrete rubble in his metal fingers and hurled it aside. That left an opening to a cleared space below, and the asset dropped down into it, landing heavily amid the dust and the wreckage. Rumlow was here, just as he knew he would be, trying to claw his way free through the rubble, but the asset could see he hadn't made very much headway. He looked around briefly, judging the integrity of the wreckage in that glance: it wouldn't collapse further, he calculated, before there was enough time to satisfy his needs. Escape had been pushed aside as momentarily unimportant. He was in the state his masters had always feared: uncontrolled, incapable of obedience, focused solely on his mate.

He turned his gaze towards Rumlow, and it was like a laser focusing, his attention narrowed as keenly and sharply as a knife blade. The asset moved towards him, beginning to strip away his weapons, the outer trappings of his fatigues. For the time being they were unneeded.

[infligere]

At least he had clean air, he told himself as he shoved, claws and pulled at the broken pieces of concrete and rebar. That was probably more than most who might be alive in this shit situation, but he was also unhappy because all he could do was smell himself. He had never liked how he smelled as he went into heat; it was like scenting desperation and weakness, neither words that he ever wanted used to describe him under any circumstances. Heat was a pain; it crowded his brain with wants and nothing else. He never liked anyone seeing him like this, even if it was from behind glass like he was a circus freak.

So he clawed at the debris desperately, aware he was losing focus as his body ramped up its efforts to convince him and everyone else in the vicinity that he was ripe for the taking. His fingers bled and his nails were in tatters, even if he had widened the hole to get an arm out. His thighs and the back of his pants were soaked through, and he was making soft whining sounds at the back of his throat as he somehow used a supreme self control to override his body to just plain keep digging to get himself free.

Apparently the efforts were useless when the cement behind him suddenly shifted a huge slab of it was lifted and tossed aside. He experienced a war of dread and elation as the first tendrils of alpha scent reached him, following by the dark-haired asshole whose hormones were literally the worst for his body. He tried to glare as he turned around to face the who had mated him all those years ago, but instead, he was blinking dust from his eyes at the shift of the debris.

In his current state, the Soldier was a massive and impressive figure, all hard lines of muscle and dominance. He stepped away from the hole he had been trying to enlarge, already beginning to shuck his combat gear because he might be an omega and as ugly as shit, but he liked to be out of the confines of restrict gear when he was going to get pounded senseless against... well probably against cement this time.

"I hate you," he said softly, the usual start to any heat interactions on his part. "But I need you right now. You get one time and then we go." Said like he actually had command to decide how many times they mated, how long they took. He didn't. When the chips fell, he was going to cling and swear as he was knotted and say all the stupid ass shit he hated coming from his mouth.

[themission]

That scent...unmistakable. Virtually irresistible. Rumlow's dark fatigues hid it well, but the asset could smell the slick on him, nostrils flaring as he breathed it in, smelling of sex and musk and something else, something not merely denied to the soldier but anathema to the soldier, except in these moments: submission. That thing which was never given to him, only expected of him: that he would submit, that he would kneel, that he would kill, that he would perform. That thing which meant restraint and humiliation and pain, which meant always being surrounded by strangers who knew everything about him while the asset knew nothing about them.

He could smell the blood that caked under Rumlow's fingernails, could smell the man's sweat and the scent of submission which undercut everything else, even the scents of dust and charring from the explosives. Greed clutched at his body; the asset felt a thickness rising in his throat that tasted of primal hunger and possession, and he answered Rumlow with nothing but a low growl. The man would learn. He would learn on his knees, choking curses and pleas, who would command now, how many times the asset would have him, just how much need could be wrung from his body, all at the asset's pleasure.

He moved with the same lethal certainty with which he would step near enough to cut a target's throat; he seized Rumlow in both hands, right hand grabbing hold of his wrist as he wrenched Rumlow around to face away from him and locked that wrist up behind his back, metal arm going around his neck, the forearm pressing in with just enough force to threaten without cutting off breath. The asset brought his weight to bear against him, forcing them both down to their knees. The front of his fatigues were pressed against the mans ass, his cock hardening swiftly at the damp heat that began to penetrate. Fully expecting to be cursed and snarled at, the asset shoved two metal fingers deep into Rumlow's mouth to forestall him.

[infligere]

Rumlow expected no reply. Rumlow wanted no reply. He knew what he would receive by now, having run this race before and even if the Soldier didn't remember their interactions, he did. Those were burned into his brain like a brand, and he probably should curse how monogamous he had become since the suppressants had failed every time they were put on a mission together. It was expected now and even vain hope did nothing to deny the pleasure at having this force of nature refuse all orders and just take. He wasn't in a position to say no and mean it, and more often than not, he didn't bother.

He stood his ground at the approach, having just tossed his bullet proof vest on the ground at their feet. Then he was grasped and he hissed like an enraged cat even as he was turned, and the usual shock of dominance quell some of the vitriol that might have spilled from his lips momentarily. He gave a vague struggle to free his arm, but his body sung at the close contact. It wasn't hard to settle on his knees when they were buckling anyway what with the overwhelmingly familiar scent of alpha clogging up his brain. His alpha. He owned this as much as he hated it.

He opened his mouth to give the single command that ever mattered to him, only to find his mouth taking metal fingers instead. He choked on them, shaking his head because the 'no biting rule' had to stick. He thrashed like a hooked fish in the asset's hold, sucking and chewing on metal fingers alternatively because there was nothing else but that and rubbing his slick clothed ass on the Soldier's groin and hoping against hope that it was as rough and debilitating in its pleasure as mating always was.

[themission]

He could feel the pressure of teeth on his metal fingers; their sensors registered heat and wetness, the coating of saliva they were receiving as he rubbed them over Rumlow's tongue and shoved them deep into his mouth, choking him on them simply because the gasping, gagging sounds he made pleased the asset. Rumlow writhed and thrashed against his hold and for a few moments the asset let him, breathing in the scent of sweat and omega sweetness from his hair, savoring the rough friction and pleasure the man gave him by rubbing his ass all over his groin. He growled again and began to twitch his hips forward, pressing into Rumlow's ass in time with his struggles, rubbing into his wet clothing and letting him feel the promise of a thick alpha cock to split him open.

He wouldn't speak much, not this early into the game. Later, perhaps. Later he might remember the kinds of words that came when a sweet omega body was writhing on his cock. It all became so familiar when he was fucking into Rumlow and listening to him hiss and spit curses, quelling his struggles, though sometimes his expectations began to be clouded and confused--wasn't he supposed to be fair-haired? have thinner limbs--?

Not yet, though. Now there was nothing but certainty as he bent low over Rumlow, forcing his face down towards the concrete floor beneath them. He pushed a third finger in the man's mouth and pressed down on his tongue and jaw, widening his lips, keeping his mouth open until the sensors registered saliva dripping down his knuckles. Then the asset straightened, though his right hand locked around Rumlow's wrist kept up its pressure, kept the man bent forward on his knees, and withdrew his fingers from his mouth; with one wrench of his metal arm he ripped the seams of his fatigues open, baring his ass and his thighs gleaming with his own slickness, his red hole already so open, so ready to be taken. Without preamble the asset shoved two of the metal fingers straight into him. They fucked in and out of his hole in a few efficient strokes, smooth and glistening now with slick as well as saliva, and then he added a third and pumped them brutally into him, as deep as he could.

[infligere]

Normally he was swearing more. Normally he was thrashing and bucking and squirming to get some distance between them. His body might be screaming yes, but his mind was still enough his own that he knew that the fight made later on better and there was a vain hope that this time would be different. This time he could keep some shred of control or escape. It never, ever happened that way, not from the first heat he had had while out on the streets alone or when the Soldier's musk clogged up his head and made him choke on his own heat. Biologically, he was wired just for this, but he had fought his nature so long, it took a bit of time to smash him back into it for the time being.

He gagged on the fingers in his mouth, spitting saliva and unable to strike back against his alpha. Not yet anyway, not when he thought his mandible might just be torn off if he didn't crane his head forward with the pull of those metal fingers. He beat his scraped and bleeding hands against the Soldier's immovable body, only to be shoved more forward and have to settle on his hands and knees. It was the worst position, meek and submissive. He wiggled his hips and shuffled his knees, but then his fatigues were torn open (commonplace by now) and he instinctively clenched his ass while under observation. He was slick, practically dripping and his thighs and cheeks were wet, even as his hole begged to be taken, to stimulate nerves that were dying because of a lack of contact. He tried to struggle and break the hold on his arm, but it was for naught.

And his mind became static white fuzziness when fingers shoved inside of him, a wash of pleasure so intense that it stilled him and caused his ass to lift to the contact, evening the angle out so they would both receive the most pleasure. It was just fingers though, not what he was searching for. "N-no biting," he managed to hiss out, half of brain already gone and the other half quickly following with each shove of those fingers into him. It wasn't soft or sweet; it was rough and demanding, telling him how things were going to be, how it must be and he issued his first soft embarrassing mewl as his hips rocked hard against those invading fingers. "S-say it, you asshole."

No mate mark. No biting to seal the deal. Not even HYDRA would allow that between them; sex was one thing, but a mate mark was beyond what anyone could tolerate.

[themission]

The asset twisted his fingers brutally as a snarling, animal sound rose in his throat and his teeth snapped threateningly just above the nape of Rumlow's neck. There was no order now, not when alpha instincts clouded his programmed obedience and the knowledge of a mate underneath him, his to possess and ripe for the taking, was the objective that every cell in his body screamed to fulfill. That snap of his teeth spoke for him, saying you don't command me, saying if I don't bite it's because I don't choose to. Rumlow could struggle and thrash all he wanted, could strike and beat at him with his free hand, snarl any curse or insult that came to mind, but he would not order his alpha. He was an omega; he was the asset's omega. The asset's fingers tightened around his wrist until the bones flexed, warning him.

Then he pulled his fingers out of his hole while Rumlow was still angling his hips up and shoving himself back onto them, submitting to the pleasure of being opened; he pulled his cock out of the front of his fatigues, erect and dripping his own alpha slickness, smeared against Rumlow's hole as he nestled his cock between his cheeks and rubbed it back and forth. He dragged Rumlow's hips up against him, using his body for pleasure. The sight of Rumlow on hands and knees brought a satisfied growl from his throat: this was how it should be.

His fingers prised Rumlow's cheeks apart, digging into his flesh with bruising force as the head of his cock caught at his hole, darkly flushed and so thick as to look utterly obscene, and then it was disappearing inside of him, stretching the slick rim of his hole wider and wider. The soldier leaned his weight mercilessly into Rumlow, bending forward to grab at his shoulder with his metal hand while his right hand stayed at his hip. The asset was fucking him even before he'd gained complete entry, his cock plunging deeper, opening him wider with each brutal stroke, as alpha instinct took over completely and he held Rumlow snared between his hands and plundered his sweet, slick omega hole, perfectly made to take his cock.

[infligere]

He dipped his head away from the snap of teeth, bowing on his neck and shying away from that contact alone. He knew better than most that his status reigned here and now, that the alpha was in clear command of their interactions and there was nothing left of the old structure. They were doing this and anything else that the Soldier wanted, and he was here to sing his pleasure for it and fight back the little that he could. He never thought that Soldier was an alpha that wanted a meek mate, one all balled up and crying; they had always fought, a give and take even if in the end, needs were satisfied and he would endure the chuckling mockery of being wrecked all over again.

Right now, that didn't matter. The concrete dust smell, the silence of the small enclosure and the fierceness of the alpha making clear promises of where this was going faster than his mind liked but not fast enough for his body that wanted to be filled and claimed. He was reduced to acting like some virgin every time, and he wriggled and dug his ruined nails and fingertips into the hard concrete as the rush of alpha smell hit him full force and he knew.

He resisted because he could, but his mouth was watering enough that he was left spitting and shaking his head as the Soldier's thick cock pressed up against him. It was as much a threat as a promise and his entrance gave a half-hearted clench before they were coming together, and his mind went blank to anything but the very idea of mating. He couldn't move, not really but he could squirm and was free to thrust back, which he did with a destructive eagerness, feeling the full scope of his alpha's erection driving his walls apart, fitting inside of him like it was made to be there. And there he went mewling between harsh growling sounds as he shoved back with the same kind of brutality as the Soldier thrusting into him managed. They were both at war and on the same side in this.

"Come on, come on, come on," was like a slurred mantra, his head trying to crane back toward his shoulders, but the Soldier's hold was absolute. His slick coated them both, mingled with the precum of his Soldier, and there was such a fantastic drag and slide of flesh that he was just that eighteen-year-old again being fucked in the back of their supply truck, legs spread wide and the Soldier's face millimeters from his marking gland. It was like that, just a different position and a different time. The overwhelming needy pleasure was the same. "Harder... come on...!"

[themission]

The way Rumlow bowed his head and retreated from the snap of his teeth was enough of a display of submission for the asset, and he loosened his punishing grasp on his wrist a fraction with a last warning growl. The man understood. He fought, he threw his whole body into struggling and fighting his alpha as an omega who was a match for the asset should, but he understood his position when they mated, he understood that his place was on his knees. He was, indeed, virginally tight as the asset took him, and he clawed at the floor as though the asset bearing down on him and within him was too much to take, yet his body opened with wanton eagerness and he thrust himself back just as swiftly and brutally as the asset claimed him. Sounds and words urged him on until the smacking sound of the asset's hips striking his ass nearly drowned him out. The asset didn't particularly care what he said; it all sounded like begging to him.

His fingers fisted in Rumlow's hair, dragging back his head; the asset nosed and scraped his teeth along the side of his throat, toying with him, teasing at the threat of a true bite, an unmistakable mark. Always in these moments he was beyond even deep Hydra conditioning, ruled only by his body's needs, by the primal instincts that drove him to claim and plunder. Someday he might snap beyond all hope of programming and control. Someday he might leave Rumlow marked and truly mated, and then where would they be? Neither his nor his handler's life would be worth a penny if that ever occurred. No one had use for an asset gone wild or the omega who had pushed him there.

He might not be that far gone yet, but he knew that he was deep enough in the heat and rut this time to knot Rumlow, nearly as bad as a true mating; every time they returned from a mission Hydra medical examined them both thoroughly for evidence that it had occurred. That wouldn't stop him, not even if it got them both killed. There was nothing better than knotting his omega, nothing that compared to Rumlow's helpless struggles as the asset came and came in him, sometimes for an hour or more, while the man nearly choked on the pleasure of it. The asset let go of his hair and took hold of the nape of his neck, squeezing in such an uncharacteristically gentle way as to surely warn him.

[infligere]

He couldn't help the high-pitched mew that left his lips as his head was jerked backwards, bearing his throat to the ruined walls ahead of him and the sensitive marking glands at the crook of his neck. They stood out almost invitingly form this position of his head, and he shuddered and squirmed with a thrash that threatened to part their sexes because the scrape of teeth was enough to down the last ten percent logical brain function. He was overruled by the want of the bite regardless of any previous vehemence against it. Right now, omega needs shoved any other thought out of his mind, and an omega was biologically more stable with a bonding bite. A small internal part of him pitched a fit at the threat of teeth, aware that the Soldier was just screwing with him to work him up higher in his heat.

The slam and shove of their bodies together, the wet slap of their flesh together was all welcomed, filling up the air with the smell and sound of their mating, vicious and wanton as it was. He was clawing at the cement under him, trying to find leverage to force the Soldier's cock deeper, to fill up his being with that rut so there would finally be relief, momentary thought it would be. His walls clenched and shuddered, his muscles doing everything that they could to stimulate even as they were force to surrender under the pounding onslaught of the Soldier's cock.

Yet, he lifted a shaky hand from the ground, rolling on his cut and bruised knees and made a grab for the Soldier. Anything from hand, hip or even better hair, he needed to hold onto something as he felt the rising drag as the Soldier's knot began to swell, jabbing and dragging out of him with a lust-crazed drag. They would knot and he would lost the next however long in the throes of exhausting passion and orgasm. "D-do it... knot me, big guy. Come on...!"

[themission]

Rumlow's hole dragged and clenched at him as though to pull him deeper, the rut at once endless and approaching its peak with an almost shocking swiftness. The asset didn't know that it had been years since the last time he'd smelled this sweetness or tasted the pleasure of being buried in his mate's twitching hole, didn't know that the bruises of the last mating faded nearly a decade ago and that Rumlow has been medically suppressing his agony every time the soldier was frozen to await the next mission. He knew only that Rumlow was where he belonged, on his knees with the asset's cock shoving into him over and over, that his pleasure in taking his mate was the rich reward that was any alpha's privilege. How good it was to be obeyed, to be submitted to.

His hand on the nape of Rumlow's neck flexed and forced him down so that even his cheek would scrape against the concrete floor with the last ruthless, brutal thrusts that heralded the swift swelling of his knot. The asset allowed him no purchase, nothing to grasp or scrabble against but the cold concrete floor, the rubble and dust he had already broken his fingers on. His knot swelled and swelled, forcing Rumlow's walls to stretch around it. The asset withdrew mercilessly, stretching the rim of Rumlow's hole to what must have been nearly unbearable wideness, and fucked back into him--did it again and again in smooth deep strokes of his cock until the knot was simply too big to work free again, until they were irrevocably locked together.

Then his cock was jerking deep inside of Rumlow as the asset began to come, slamming his hips forward once last time into him as a snarl of pleasure left his throat. He sank down over him, forcing him to the floor, holding his face down for a few more moments until at last he let go and slid his metal fingers into Rumlow's mouth again. Soft growls and sounds worked from his throat as familiar tremors of pleasure worked through and through his body. With each shudder came a jerk and twitch of his hips against Rumlow's ass and a thick spill of hot alpha come deep inside him.

[infligere]

His own neglected erection bobbed with the thrusts, leaking mess all over his belly and thighs, not that it mattered given how much of a mess with slick he was. His pleasure by that point was so mindless and all consuming that he forgot to stroke him, and it wasn't necessary because all the wonderful bundle of nerve endings were being stimulated and pounded into a frantic clamoring of heat pleasure that he was left mewling and growling all at once as the drag of the Soldier's knot became more and more apparent, more and more of an effort to withdraw.

And then he was forced into the ultimate submission, feeling shards of concrete dig into his chest and temple, the raw edge of dust clogging his nose and puffing in a cloud with his breath. His hand returned to the ground now that it was apparent there was nothing behind him to hold onto, no safety in grasping at his alpha, so he was back to clawing at the concrete until they were well an truly struck together. His eyes had rolled back into his head and loud moaning mewls were all he had to offer beyond that jerk of his hips and his own orgasm struck him harder than a bullet in that moment of being completely and irreversibly knotted.

Erotic sensation washed through him, his erection jerking and spilling the little necessary contribution on his belly and the ground before he was pressed down into it. His bruised knees buckled under the weight, and he was crushed into the uncomfortable position against uneven concrete with the Soldier's solid weight on his back, his legs splayed awkwardly and still trying to find purchase enough to buck with the roll of his alpha's hips as he was filled with cum, filled where he was aching and clamoring for it. He had nothing left but the soft omega mewling huffs that left him, stuck in the whirlwind of pleasure of being knotted and the nerve endings continually stimulated with shockwaves of pleasure that had his walls milking every single last drop that his alpha had to give.

He was helpless. He was overwhelmed. He was an absolute mess.

[themission]

There wasn't much regard in him for the discomfort of the position he'd forced Rumlow into--crushed between the uneven floor and his alpha's solid body, his cock locked so deep inside of him and swelled so thickly that it had to make it hard to breathe. He had little regard for Rumlow's own orgasm, whether he came or not with his own cock trapped underneath his belly and chafed by the coarse material of the his remaining clothes--he always did--or when the continued stimulation that kept Rumlow's hole clenching rhythmically on his cock, milking his seed, would begin to be too much. He remembered--no, that was wrong, the asset didn't remember things, but there was a shadow, a ghost of a dark-haired boy, struggling and crying and weak, his body used long beyond any bearing, and the soldier gentle, protective, holding him close--or that had been another mate--another--

The asset fucked into him, and every thrust spilled another generous quantity of come into him, brought with it an all-consuming pleasure and satiation. He slid his fingers slowly in and out of Rumlow's open mouth as it made its sweet erotic sounds, its omega moans and pleas, stroking over his tongue and pressing down firm enough to refuse him the ability to form words. After a while he shifted enough that his knees were cradled around Rumlow's legs, helping to support his weight, and his right forearm pillowed under his cheek. That was only to be expected. After the first brutal mating, after the necessity of proving his dominance, the asset became protective, nearly tender with his mate, as though some shred of humanity remained from all that had been torn out of him long ago.

He nuzzled at the nape of Rumlow's neck, licking and grazing with his teeth; even though he wouldn't bite, not this time, that vulnerable place was irresistible to him while he was still coming.

[infligere]

Brock Rumlow endured. He was a survivor by nature, a spiteful asshole by day and a quiet still man at night. Yet, he always endured, even if the stimulation fried his brain enough to leave him drooling over metal fingers and sucking at them like he was trying to earn himself rent money. The metal fingers tasted better than the first time, less covered in concrete and whatever else, and now they had that clean metallic taste that he had come to expect from them. He knew, distantly, that sucking and licking them would earn him nothing from the Soldier, that it was an act to keep his mouth occupied enough that he might not moan and mewl those embarrassing sounds as much.

And there they were piled together and the Soldier's hips were still giving motion, twitching and little thrusts that set the nerves of his body right back on fire. He was helpless, his orgasm a long draw of mind-blowing sensation that left a mess between his legs and under him where he lay on the concrete waiting the endless minutes for the knot to soften. He was such a trembling wreck, his heat still pounding in his bones but manageable, almost pleasant by this point.

Then there was the awful shift from brutal alpha to softer mate, and Rumlow hated this most of all. He struggled with the usual omega puppy love bullshit that came from haywire hormones for weeks after this, and it left him surly and grumpy with everyone else until he could think about something other than a mate that was frozen and hidden away from him. This softness, the bracketing of knees, the supportive limbs, the teasing licking and nuzzling. He wanted none of it, and yet he was moving his head back for it, bearing his neck and humming around the fingers in his mouth.

This long time between stuck together and being finished was almost unbearable. Yet, he still lifted a hand to tangle his ruined fingers into the Soldier's hair, touching and stroking the alpha where he had previously been denied. This softness made him weak; he should just punch the asshole in the face and scream at him. The position and the fingers in his mouth thwarted any effort to do so.

[themission]

After he'd shifted position the asset didn't move for a long time other than the little twitches of his hips that pressed his cock deep into Rumlow's ass, the little jerks and shudders that went through him as he came and came endlessly. Apart from that he let Rumlow writhe and tremble on him, let him shudder around his cock and milk spurts of seed over and over with the clenches of his overstimulated hole. His body bracketed Rumlow's on all sides against the floor, caging him, as the thrust of his fingers into his mouth turned what might have been words into garbled sounds and moans, and there was no doubt that he intended to keep the man right where he was until he was finished with him.

He licked the sweat from Rumlow's throat and nosed at his temple, squeezing his fingers absently around his jaw as Rumlow canted back his head and moaned around his fingers. His submissiveness was pleasing; in response the asset rolled his hips strongly against his ass, pushing his knot deeper into him, sliding obscenely through the wetness that coated his insides, the thick seed that would be dripping out of him by the time the asset was finished. "Shhh," the asset murmured in his ear, in his cracked and rusty, long-disused voice, encouraging his pliancy, his submission, this omega sweetness that came when the man was battered and exhausted and trembling, overwhelmed by helpless pleasure. "That's good. Be good for me."

[infligere]

He hadn't enough brain power left to rub much in the way of conscious thought yet, but it was coming back gradually now that the pleasure was dying down to bearable levels. They were still very much knotted together and there was no escaping that until the Soldier cooled his heels on that matter, something he had absolutely no control of. His own heat was a simmer of warmth throughout his entire body, made better by the warmth that continued to spread in his insides.

Yet, he issued a low groan around the fingers that were doing their very best to choke him or at least gag him, all because the Soldier gave a real effort to shifting the knot inside of him. It dragged at over-excited nerve endings, and it caused his eyes to roll back in his head and his body to shudder. The words felt patronizing though, and he wanted to shove them back down the asset's throat. He didn't want this, never had, and yet here they were doing this dance once more.

When this was over, god he would going to kill the Soldier.

[themission]

They weren't, really, those words--there wasn't enough of the man the asset had once been left to patronize or mock. There was only enough left to claim what was his due whenever he tasted the scent of his mate's heat. The tenderness was as real as his brutality had been, and if Rumlow tried to reject it he would be as savage as he would if the man truly attempted to fight him off and escape him. It was right to curl around him protectively, hiding him from the world: the asset's own, his mate, his omega, and he would guard him with all the unwavering conviction of a man who had been wiped clean too many times to experience uncertainty.

And there--his knot was beginning to subside, if only in the slightest sense, and with it his interest in dominating the weaker creature beneath him stirring again as Rumlow groaned at the shove of his hips, the dragging movement of his knot against his insides. The asset did it again, pushing his fingers deeper into his mouth as he did as though to fuck him from both ends. Somewhere in the distance there came a muffled trembling, crashing sound, some part of the wreckage of the building collapsing around and over itself, but here in their cocoon smelling of omega heat and alpha come they were still safe enough. There were still hours left to them, by the asset's judgement.

He withdrew his metal fingers from Rumlow's mouth and curled them around his throat instead. The tips pressed in hard, blunt points where Rumlow would wear bruises later, where he would be a spectacle of the asset's brutality before the eyes of his peers, who would all look at him and know exactly what had been done to him.

[infligere]

There was no escaping this, and as much as he might fantasize about it, he knew that when they met up again in the future, it would happen again and again. Every time, this was how a mission ended. HYDRA was now prepared for it, allotted them time to get it out of their systems, like it was an inconvenient biological response that just had to be taken care of, which it was. The fact was, things always started with violence and ended with him being literally covered as if he needed to be hidden from the world, momentarily precious and protected.

Sometimes he wondered what the Soldier would do if someone actually interrupted them with the intention of breaking them apart. Probably murder. He wasn't certain, but it was a question that seemed logical to have an answer to.

Of course, those kinds of thoughts had no place when the asset was purposefully dragging the knot in and out along his nerves, and he issued a low mewl in response, muffled around the fingers that made him gag and thrash a bit. It was hard to breathe through his nose alone when he was so full of fingers and cock. His legs gave a little shuffle against the ground, but it only served to emphasize his bruising. And then his throat was assaulted, and he gasped with the pointed press of metal fingers. Almost instinctively, he tried to drop his head into the dust layer on the concrete to appear submissive again.

[themission]

Once, before Rumlow, Hydra had been foolish enough to try to keep the asset away from an omega in heat. One of their prisoners: he had killed two guards and a medic to get to the creature, who had sobbed and lain helplessly and cowered beneath him. In the end the prisoner had died too. The asset didn't remember how, or the severity of his punishment afterwards; he only remembered the clawing, infuriating feeling of being apart from his true mate, the one who matched him, snarled and spit and cursed and urged him on--the one he'd thought Rumlow to be when he was a raw soldier, a raw boy in that supply truck--no, Rumlow was his true mate. There had never been another.

The asset growled when Rumlow dropped his head to the concrete, baring his nape in a show of submission, giving little pained gasps as the asset's metal fingers restricted his throat and his still-knotting cock shoved deeper into him with the hard nudges of his hips. His fingers flexed as though he wasn't sure whether to choke Rumlow or show him mercy, and the asset leaned down and bared his teeth just above Rumlow's neck, hovering there with the threat of biting down, breaking skin. The man wasn't fighting him, which pleased the asset; but his knot was now definitely going down, and instead of waning his arousal was flagging again--instead of relief there was a mounting frustration and greed, and he knew he hadn't yet had enough of using and dominating his omega.

He thrust his hips in restless strokes, undecided, working against Rumlow's ass until his knot had gone down enough that he was beginning to slip out and his seed was trickling from his mate's abused hole. Finally the asset gave a low snarl and withdrew, gripping Rumlow's hair in his fingers and dragging him around to face him.

[infligere]

With them knotted together still, he was smart enough to realize (even in heat) that fighting back was not going to earn him anything but more pain. He knew the futility of fighting as well, given how strong and vicious the Soldier was, but a part of him couldn't back down from a fight entirely. A part of him would always rebel against the status he had been forced to endure through the years, the names he was called and the men's throats he had crushed or slit in response to the more violent teasing.

How long would he heat last? Normally, it was about four hours if mated immediately, which was his lot in life. Some of the suppressants made it last longer, some shorter. It would be hours regardless, and he was already bruised and sore.

He squirmed and set his hands on the concrete under him, using it to lift his hips up with the thrusting so he wasn't just ramming his hipbones into the ground. He also was keenly aware of the knot no longer leaving him sex-drunk, giving just a touch of his brain back for useful plotting against the alpha who seemed frustrated over something. He shuddered as hot seed leaked from his abused hole, and he hissed when his hair was seized, but now that he had himself basically 'free', he swore with a "fuck off" and a sudden swing of his elbow to the Soldier's gut. He was still dragged around, but that was just opportunity to drag himself up to launch at the Soldier all hissing and punching.

[themission]

The asset was ready for his punches, as though he knew they were coming: Rumlow hissing at him, swinging his fists and the asset catching them with an answering growl, taking the elbow to his gut without much more than a curl of his lip. The man was strong, like his handlers had always been--seasoned soldiers, cold and brutal men. He'd only gotten stronger and more vicious as he aged; he made a worthy match for the asset as a handler and as his omega. But he wasn't stronger than the Winter Soldier, none of them were, and in his alpha state he showed it, bending his handler's wrists close to breaking with a grasp that demonstrated how easy it would be to snap them like twigs, with either hand. He dragged Rumlow close to him, snarling right in his face, and then the asset kissed him in a clash of teeth and bruising force.

Subduing his mate's struggles, he transferred both wrists to his left hand, locking the metal fingers around them like a vice, and grabbed his hair again, fisting savagely in the short, thick locks at the base of his skull. There--he left Rumlow without an inch of space to pull away from him, and the soldier could tilt his head and force his lips to part with the insistent pressure of his lips, his teeth, his tongue; he pushed his tongue into Rumlow's mouth as soon as he gained an opening, and the taste of his omega brought a deep rumble of satisfaction from his chest.

[infligere]

Rumlow knew it was fruitless, but every single time, he still fought. There was no overcoming his alpha, not without a tranquilizer gun, a pair of magnetic handcuffs and that muzzle the Soldier was force to wear on missions. With his hands caught, he tried to twist them free but was unable, and the point became moot when his wrists were bend enough that it forced his back to bow and a snarl of pained rage to leave him. Pain gave him clarity, gave him a brief opportunity to circumvent the needs of his heat and this... well, it wouldn't be the first time he returned to HYDRA with a broken bone because of mating.

The kiss split his lip almost instantly, the metallic taste of blood making him shudder as he fought back, struggling even as his wrists were passed off and his head was bent back. He suddenly swung up a knee aiming for the groin but his balance was off enough that he'd land on the Soldier's thigh instead. A tongue in his mouth was a dangerous thing; he could bite it off. The problem was that with the Soldier's tongue there, the taste of alpha swung him out of his pained rage and into omega in heat territory and while he fought, it was against his nature to permanent harm his alpha was in heat and after just being mated.

It was all biological nonsense, but he was subjected to it all the time. He mewled softly, hoping to distract the Soldier enough to break free instead.

[themission]

He could appreciate the fight in his mate even as he subdued his struggles, ignoring the ill-aimed knee at his thigh as unimportant; Rumlow was no weakling, he was a hardened soldier, worthy of the asset. His commanding officer in the field, obedience and submission reversed except in a heat, a struggle between alpha and omega. Under ordinary circumstances the asset would be licking his boots if ordered too, not drugging him to pliancy with the biting kiss, forcing him to his back on the cold cement.

The threat of Rumlow biting off his tongue didn't even enter his mind. Dominance lived in every hard line of his body, his hands, his solid weight easily forcing Rumlow prone again, on his back where his belly and throat were exposed. His soft, vulnerable mewls had the asset growling in satisfaction as he shoved Rumlow's wrists up over his head-- "Leave them," he snarled in the man's ear, seizing his thighs and hiking them up, spreading him apart. With a single thrust the soldier entered him again, filling him with his cock. He circled a hand around Rumlow's throat again as he fucked into him determinedly, staring into his face, hips working fast and hard as he pounded him viciously into the floor.

[infligere]

And then he was flat on his back on the broken cracked concrete, dust and dirt painting his back and his arms as they were wrenched over his head. He arched his shoulders and hips, craning with his belly upwards in yet another vain attempt to escape. The order to leave his hands where they were earned a snarl but actual obedience as well, the alpha command clear to his omega brain as a must follow directive.

He give a little kick with one of his feet, but it was more a jerk than a threat with the way that his alpha slotted in between his thighs and entered him. He was hot and slick, still dripping cum from their previous mating, and he made a throaty desperate sound as his walls were once again stretched. All his nerve ended flared with the pleasure of the contact and he had to twist his fingers together to keep himself from reaching out to grab at his alpha as he was pounded roughly into the cement. His mouth opened and close as if to say something, but only lewd mewling left him as his face became flushed and the bonding glands on his neck stood out in blatant advertising.

[themission]

Rumlow was still tight around him, but filthy wet too, sloppy with come and slickness, making it easy to fuck him. The asset's hips pistoned like a machine, hands bruising the man's thighs as his fingers dug into the strong muscles, pushing his legs down towards his chest, nearly bending him in two as he fucked him in hard, savage strokes. Pleasure worked low growls from the asset's throat again and again as he stared unblinking at his omega's face, Rumlow's expression fixed and straining as though he were fighting with all his strength not to give in. The asset knew that he would. He would break over and over, as many times as the asset desired to have him. It wasn't only the physical pleasure that brought those contented rumblings from his throat, it was also the pleasure of dominating his mate, having Rumlow thoroughly as his own.

His head thrown back was an unholy temptation, throat sweet with scent that drew the asset down to nose and mouth at it while the instinct to bite pulled at him ever stronger. Even in the depths of mating the asset understood all the reasons he should not, but his teeth bared, hovering over fragile skin, and frustration mounted; he snarled at Rumlow, faulting him for the temptation, for baring his throat and daring his alpha to bite.

His hips slammed into him viciously, thick cock plunging deep over and over, opening him, punishing him, and with another snarl the asset suddenly bit down on the muscle of Rumlow's shoulder: bruising flesh, breaking it, marking him irrevocably, the only saving grace being that it was a place that would stay hidden under clothing and gear.

[infligere]

He'd bruise. He always bruised, and he would take the mockery that came with it. Generally now, it was little more than a gentle ribbing because he had reputation of gutting anyone that went too far in saying that he was a whore for the Soldier. He wasn't; they were mates, which was a word that he despised in every sense until this alpha was filling him to the brim with hot flesh and cum. Then it was okay for that select few hours of their sexathon.

He was uncensored as he howled and thrashed, his legs kicking out and finding not purchase. His thrashing motions only encouraged the Soldier he knew, his alpha so keyed into the fight that was between them, but it would leave more bruises as he was slammed down into the cement under him. There was never any comforts in their outings, and part of him hated every moment of them and another part loved that they had no boundaries about place and time.

He was breathing hard, his body rocking with the almost violent motions of their mating, listening to the sound of their flesh slapping together and his orgasm building up. He was so hard and his erection drooled over his belly, bouncing untouched against his own skin. Yet, he was keyed in on the flash of teeth, and he tried to force himself to drop his head to cover over his swollen glands. Bonding was the last thing he wanted out of a mating session.

Yet, he yelled when he was bitten, slamming his palms into the Soldier's chest as he was marked. It wasn't directly on the gland, just enough to catch the edge of it, damage it enough to release bonding hormones through his system. No one would see it so long as he kept his shirt on, but he knew it was there, the marking that would disappear because it wasn't deep enough to display to the world that he was mate marked, but a partial bond formed between himself and the Soldier like never before.

"Y-you asshole," he whimpered out. He felt hate flood him for being reduced to whimpering, and he howled as he struggled anew. Not that he ever would, but even the limited effect of the bite would not allow him to take another lover, another mate. The Soldier was it or death.

[themission]

It was too late for any protest. The hands shoving at his chest may as well have been trying to move a mountain; the asset bore down hard on Rumlow as he dug his teeth into flesh and muscle, lapping at the salt taste of sweat and the coppery tang of blood. The satisfaction of his basest instincts made his cock swell and swell inside Rumlow's battered ass as he began to come again, filling him with another load of seed, his knot coming back to lock them together. His mate would be dripping when the asset was finished with him. He'd be returning to base smelling of the asset's come, and everyone would know who he belonged to even without seeing the mating mark on his shoulder.

And the asset would know it was there. Even in stasis, even when being wiped and put away until the next time his use was required, it would be imprinted down to his bones: his mate for life, his and no other's. He suppressed Rumlow's struggles easily and began to kiss him again, eagerly, almost sweetly, more like a lover's kiss for once than a dominating alpha's. His knot swelled thick and bigger than ever within him as he jerked his hips in short little thrusts, filling and filling him with seed, and his arms cradled Rumlow as though to protect him from the rough cement, the broken rubble all around them.

[infligere]

He had no idea if or what he would say to explain the bite away to medical. He suddenly knew he would refuse to go there, that he would insist on taking care of things on his own. He had done that once or twice, claiming humiliation enough that he could avoid contact and the medical staff smirking between themselves. He'd hide the bite, protect it... wait, what? No, he didn't want it... but he had it and thus it was his to keep secret.

He growled and struggled despite it being so damn ineffective, kicking his legs on either side of the Soldier's hips and thrusting his chest out as if he could throw the alpha off of him. It wouldn't work; it never worked. The kisses reduced him to mewling again, but they were like nothing that they had shared together, and he did something that he never thought that he would... he thrust his head forward and buried his face into the crook of the Soldier's neck, a plaintive and very omega gesture of accepting protection.

The knot that filled him again, thicker than ever, earned noises, and instead of fighting, his hips gave small rolls to tug the knot within him, sending pleasure cascading through him. He curled his legs around the Soldier, feeling a new patch of seed filling him up, marking and claiming him as no other had the right to. His fingers managed to get a hold of his alpha's sides and held on, his walls massaging and gripping the erection filling him with claim.

And all the while, the bite oozed blood and bond all over his skin.

[themission]

Rumlow, despite all his struggling and fury and humiliation, despite his absolute rejection of being bitten, did something the asset had only ever instinctively expected up until that moment and tucked his head into the crook of his shoulder, mutely asking for his protection. The asset wrapped both arms around him fiercely, still positioned on top of him with the man's thighs spread around his hips, covering him, locked inside of him as his cock pulsed and throbbed within him with rhythmic pumps of seed. He buried his nose in Rumlow's hair to breathe the sweat and bond and blood scent of him, eyes closed with a kind of tender contentment that was entirely unfamiliar. Only once had he felt this before...once decades ago when he'd first broken in the boy Rumlow had been, fucking him and knotting him for hours until he'd been sobbing and struggling weakly, unable to bear any more of it; the asset had held and soothed him until he'd finished.

Of course, the asset had been wiped shortly after. He didn't remember the encounter, not as a series of images that could be conjured up; but it had been imprinted in him to protect Rumlow in pain or need.

Rumlow's hole twitched around him, drawing out the continuing pulses of seed painting his insides and the slow lazy rocks of his hips that pumped his thick knot deeper into him. All the while the asset was still and soothing and even gentle, one of his hands curving over the back of Rumlow's head to cradle his face against his shoulder, encouraging him to stay there.

[infligere]

And he surrendered as he had never been able to before all of this began. His shoulders relaxed and his fierce struggling even while being knotted subsided, his thighs only giving soft trembles from being rammed into the cement so often in the last while. He kept his face buried into the crook of the Soldier's neck, breathing in the rich scent of the alpha, letting it fill his head with - no doubt - false promises. Their bond wasn't absolute; the bite hadn't been right over the gland after all, but it was strong in the time of their mating. As he was wrapped up in those often brutal mismatched arms, he slipped his own around the Soldier's back, holding on lightly.

His eyes closed, his breath evening to little huffs as pleasure continued to assault him, taking the edge off of the pain of previous brutality. Slowly, unbidden, his fingers began to trace along the bunches of muscles that rose powerfully on the Soldier's back, starting high over the shoulders and working his way down. As if he was finally committing this alpha's shape, scent and feel to his memory.

In the pitch dark with no sound, he would be able to identify this alpha immediately. Scent and touch was a powerful tool, but never before had he allowed himself to do this, always struggling and fight his very instincts. Now, he was committing it all to memory in the purely omega part of his brain. Safety came with remembrance after all.

[themission]

The sense of a bond was extraordinarily soothing, calming even the most brutal instincts to assault and conquer his mate. If the asset had any memory, any concept of the passing of time beyond the moment and the mission, he would have regretted not doing this from the first knotting, marking his claim utterly on his own omega. But Hydra had wanted to avoid it as much as Rumlow had; they wanted their soldier's brutality, wanted him murderous and cold, not protective and possessing, cradling Rumlow underneath him as the pleasure drew out until he felt sunk into a state of soporific contentment. He cupped the man's jaw and lifted his face up to kiss him lazily as the muscles of his back twitched in pleasurable greed at the stroking and petting.

His knot was slowly beginning to subside, though he stayed buried deep inside of him, kissing along his jaw and throat and rocking his hips subtly through the wet grip of his hole. Awareness of a world outside of his mate was returning as the asset began to listen to the shifting sounds the rubble was making. Before he might have been so caught up in their mating that he would have fucked and knotted his omega until the wreckage collapsed around them, but now his protectiveness was stronger. Rumlow was his.

He murmured some filthy endearment in Russian, not paying any attention to what language he was speaking as he pulled his cock out of Rumlow's hole and dragged the man upright. "Time to leave."

[infligere]

There was a moment when he tried to scrape together his dislike, the promise of long ago to someday kill this alpha who continually thwarted his attempts to not be ruled by his biology. When he had been young, mewling and weak, he had promised himself that he would be the one to murder the Soldier, to have his revenge for those hours of torment, only to reaffirm that want again and again after ever heat. No matter how much he tried to drag back all those old feelings, they slipped through his mind like water through his fingers.

There was a certain euphoric safety to the bond, a sense of belonging where no one could mock his biology. He could stay just like this with the shudder of concrete and growl of straining rebar. Instead, he found himself pulled to his feet, his world tilting so that he leaned heavily on the alpha. His pants were not salvageable, and he came back to the reality of the situation with the hot sticky mess starting to slide down his bare thighs.

"...and go where?" Despite his heat making thinking difficult, he was casting around for all the contingencies, all the pre-assigned safe houses, all the little nooks and crannies they could hide in until HYDRA came for them... or his heat was over and who knows what would happen when they had enough capacity to plan together.