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.
no subject
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.