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.