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The Big Little Bang

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It started as a routine STRIKE op. Natasha Romanoff was on another mission in Brazil, but the Cap was available, so the Cap came along. The Cap was always available. It wasn’t like the poor guy had a life.

Rumlow led the STRIKE team into the building through the entrances, coordinating using his headset and silent gestures. There were four, and he split the team up, each one taking their position. When he gave the signal, there was an eruption of yells and gunfire as STRIKE flooded into the warehouse, which was rumoured to be an AIM front company, where the remains of the organization were developing weapons. All in all, the scientists and engineers on the main floor put up little resistance, but then the hidden door was discovered that led down into a basement. Steve Rogers was the first one through that door with Rumlow close behind, while the rest of STRIKE was occupied rounding up the rest of the resistance and leading them out in handcuffs.

They then proceeded to redefine the phrase “running firefight” with a guy who lit up like a volcano and spat lava. Steve cut off his head with the shield, and Rumlow just hoped, as they moved past the cooling corpse, that he wouldn’t heal up again.

Then came the phalanx of guards with machine-guns, which Rumlow was far more adept at handling than the demon, though Cap still took care of more than his share.

It was a pure pleasure, as always, watching the man work.

The blood thrummed in Rumlow’s ears, making him feel as young as the super-soldier looked. Over the months since they’d started working together, there had been many times when Rumlow thought about how it would feel to take a punch like that. To feel one’s body just break around the fist and fly through the air.

More than that, he wondered what it would feel like to be touched by that strength, to feel that incredible power under his own hands, contained, but ready to be unleashed at any moment.

It was pretty awkward sometimes, running ops with a boner. But Brock couldn’t help that.

Bullets zipped through the air, and pinged off the shield. Blood flew, and bodies collapsed to the floor. Everything was just fine, until the explosions started.

Steve whirled around at the first blast, and threw himself at Rumlow. For the first time, Brock learned what it was like to be attacked by Captain America, as the huge, muscled body pushed him down into the corner of a room, onto the floor, covering him and holding the shield up over their heads.

Then the ceiling rained down on top of them, and everything went black.

Brock came to to the sound and feeling of his own lungs trying to crawl out of his mouth. He coughed and hacked as dust settled into his mouth, and shifted, trying to push off the weight on top of him so he could turn onto his side and spit. Then he realized the weight was Steve Rogers, and he was pushing back.

“Hey, hey calm down,” Steve said, pressing Rumlow back down to the floor with one big hand. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Damn him, the sound of his voice was actually soothing.

“What happened?” Rumlow rasped, swallowing a mouthful of dust and spit and blood, and grimacing. He couldn’t see a thing.

“They must have had charges rigged. They must have been set off when we breached their security,” Steve muttered. “I think half the building came down right on top of us."

Rumlow shifted a little, trying to sort out if any of his limbs were missing, but they all still seemed attached. His elbow struck the shield and he winced. He touched the earpiece and cursed when he was rewarded with a burst of static, ripping the busted device out of his ear and tossing it aside.

“You hurt?” he asked. Steve had literally shielded his body with his own. Damn. No wonder everyone called him a hero.

“I’m fine,” Steve said. Rumlow could hear a bit of a smile in his voice. “A few bruises. Nothing that won’t heal. You?”

“In one piece, thanks to you.”

Now Steve shifted slightly, and Brock felt one leg moving upwards between his own, as the super soldier tried to change positions. He opened his mouth, not even sure what he was going to say, then squirmed back on his elbows, but after going no more than an inch, he hit his head hard on a piece of concrete, and yelped in pain.

And Steve’s thigh settled right onto Brock’s raging erection.

“Shit,” Rumlow commented matter-of-factly, as Captain America froze like a deer in the midst of a gay panic-inducing headlight.

“Uh, I didn’t… I mean, are you—?”

“That’s not a piece of rebar, Cap,” Rumlow heard himself say, though every particle of his brain was racing, considering contingencies and rejecting them. Most of them would probably result in incredible awkwardness. He wasn’t sure he cared. “You aren’t going to freak out on me, are you?”

There was a short silence. “Oh. No, I’m not freaking out.”

To Brock’s surprise, he actually believed him. “How enlightened of you.”

And then Steve compounded his surprise. Gentle fingers touched Rumlow’s rough cheek. “Is that for me?”

What? If it hadn’t been completely pitch black, Steve probably would have been treated to the sight of a comically shocked look on Rumlow’s face, too. His cheek tingled in the wake of those light fingers, and he swallowed, with a suddenly dry - drier - mouth. “Don’t see anyone else around,” he said wryly. “Is that going to be a problem?”

No.

Of all the reactions Rumlow might have expected, this was probably bottom of the list. He crooked a grin and lifted his hands. Fingers spidered up Steve’s chest, that space-age kevlar mesh armour both giving and tough under his hands. Then he found skin, and cupped Steve’s face in his own rough palms.

“If you’ve got some kind of ideas…”

There was a smirk in Steve’s voice, the little shit. “What kind of ideas do you think I have?” And Captain America shifted, rubbing his thigh harder into Rumlow’s erection.

That asshole.

Rumlow swallowed, determined that his voice would be steady. “Ideas about some sort of romantic bullshit,” he clarified. “You better discard that right now. I won’t be good for you, Cap.”

Steve’s silence this time was thoughtful. “Okay, I’ve been warned,” he said, and shifted again. This time, soft, full lips pressed against Rumlow’s in an enthusiastic, if somewhat unpracticed kiss.

Rumlow’s first thought was that Captain America tasted fucking amazing. His second thought was that he wasn’t sure who was in over their head more, but there was no way he was getting rescued before he had an orgasm. Whatever step three was, whatever the consequences would be after they got out of here, was the last thing on his mind.

There was no more gentleness. He’d given his warning, and if Cap wanted to put the brakes on things, Rumlow was basically at his mercy. Until he pulled the plug, Brock was going to do exactly what he wanted. And what he wanted was to get his hands on the world’s most patriotic cock and make it sing.

His fingers went to Steve’s belt, searching for zippers and snaps. Somehow, he managed to find how the damn stealth suit worked - who designed that crazy superhero shit anyway? - and he heard and felt Steve gasp against his lips as Rumlow’s hand slipped inside and wrapped itself around Steve’s heated shaft. Rumlow growled with pleasure to find the super soldier also hot and rigid under his palm - apparently Rumlow wasn’t the only one who reacted to danger this way.

He bit at Steve’s lower lip, taking it between his teeth and worrying it until he was sure a mark would be left. It would fade, he knew, probably within minutes, which was way too bad. The mental image of emerging from this hole in the ground with Captain America visibly debauched was attractive as hell.

Even more attractive were the little whimpering sounds Steve made.

The super soldier fumbled at Rumlow’s belt, and it was amazing how those strong fingers could be so clumsy when Steve was this excited. Rumlow made no effort to help him, working his cock with quick, sure strokes as Steve somehow managed to undo Rumlow’s fatigues without breaking his zipper or ripping a seam.

When Steve’s hand wrapped around his shaft, Rumlow growled an approving noise in the back of his throat and arched his back, thrusting his hips upwards once in encouragement.

Their hands moved quickly, almost in rhythm, their breathing hot and close in the claustrophobic space. Their breaths mingled, though they were no longer kissing, their faces almost touching, both of their eyes closed tight as they jerked each other off with merciless efficiency.

When Steve’s breathing had reached a fever pitch, Rumlow suddenly paused and withdrew his hand, his ears drinking in the needy, disappointed moan that he elicited from Steve. “Shush,” he said, grinning fit to split his head in two. “Just relax, I’ll take care of you. I need to move, though.”

“Move?” Steve asked, his voice rising with disbelief. “Where?”

In answer, Rumlow squirmed around. The space wasn’t large, but if he bent himself over just so and rolled onto his back again, he could slide his head between Steve’s knees. He grabbed Steve’s hips and guided him down, until that thick, hot shaft slid between Rumlow’s lips.

“Oh god,” Steve groaned, and Rumlow rumbled a self-satisfied laugh around the rigid flesh in his mouth, then sucked hard.

Once again, Steve surprised him. Almost tentatively, Steve ducked his head and curled his fingers around Rumlow’s cock again, and the next thing Brock knew, his cock was engulfed in Steve’s warm, moist mouth. Captain America sucked his cock with shy determination, bobbing his head up and down like he’d only seen it done, probably in a porno - and who knew that Captain America watched porn? - but there was something incredibly seductive and exciting about getting blown by Steve Rogers, no matter how uncertain he was.

For one single moment, Rumlow considered how much better it was going to be next time, then wanted to slap himself for the thought.

Then thought pretty much went out the window, as his orgasm hit him hard, and he blew his load right down Captain America’s throat.

Steve made a soft noise of surprise, but drank down the fluids gamely. Only a moment or two later, Rumlow felt Steve jerk and gasp in his own turn, and bitter fluids flooded over his tongue as well.

Brock closed his mouth and swallowed, sucking and continuing to bob his head up and down until the rigid flesh began to soften in his mouth, and Steve’s gasps and moans had started to quiet. Then he let Steve’s member slip from his mouth and squirmed around again so their heads were together once more, efficiently tucking himself back into his fatigues as he moved.

Steve kissed him hard, desperately, like a teenager who’d just gotten his first blow in the back seat of a car and wasn’t sure if his latest crush understood just how friggin’ grateful he was.

Rumlow smirked faintly and grudgingly slung his arms around Steve. “I’m not gonna be good for you. Don’t forget that,” he murmured into Cap’s ear.

“I’ll take that chance,” Steve said, and there was an edge of stubbornness in his tone that sent a curl of nervousness through Rumlow’s body. Who was in over their head, again?

Probably Brock. Shit.

“Next time,” Steve murmured into his ear. “I’ll take you on a proper date first. Okay?”

Definitely Brock. Fuck.

“Who wants a date when we can just kill people and fuck afterwards?” Rumlow replied, pitching his tone like a joke.

Steve smiled against his neck. “We’ll see.”