Brock spent his first heat with Brie. Brie was two years older and she was omega too, so she knew what her younger brother had to endure. During her first heat their parents were still alive, and Brie had alpha hired by their father from agency. But now they had only Nonna and she thought the alpha next to a teenager in their first heat is not very modern idea. So Nonna sent them both to the den, arranged in the annexe and had seen for several generations of Rumlow.
Brie couldn't do much for Brock because he was busy whining, shrinked into a lump under a blanket, or moaning in Brie's lap, as she read out loud to him stupid jokes from Twitter. Four days of stupid jokes and pain. They both were lucky with their Nonna provided them with blockers after so "not to spoil lil varmints life." Varmints were not only Brock and Brie, but their parents, mom's sisters and some twice removed relatives... Nonna loved to raise varmints and did it in the most modern methods so no one would dare to call her old hag in her seventy years.
In fact, their parents weren't cruel enough to name their children similarly. Officially Brie was Bridget and she threatened to grow into the same beauty as the famous actress their father-alpha adored. However after the accident Brie wanted to be closer to Brock and demanded to call her by shortened name. As they grow older the difference in age faded and soon everyone saw them as twins, so similar names played solid role in their life.
However it only lasted until the day Brie met some jerk — because you can't be normal when you're called Pablo and you're a house painter. (House painter! Brock often was intended to ask why is the Brie's boyfriend did not go further up the career ladder, but he didn't want to be lectured for an hour about how a decent omega supposed to behave. Brock and decency was not particularly friendly with each other.) Brie became Bridget exclusively for Pablo and Brock came at the bonding ceremony right from the training camp. Brie was far more beautiful than the actress and Brock in his congratulatory speech wished that she'll inspired Pablo to get closer to Picasso in his work. He hoped the presence of almost entire clan of relatives will save him from early death in the hands of his older sister.
Brock lies on his back and moans softly from the magical sensations of Jack's tongue circling along his anus. Huge hot alpha's palms without any visible effort support Brock's ass raised in the air, Brock's legs comfortably lie on broad shoulders as created only and especially for this. His half-hard cock shiny with saliva and seed lies comfortably on his belly. Jack knotted him three times since heat beginning and let him cum each time. So now with the fever of the first wave receded Brock enjoys alpha's attention who suddenly turned out to be a big fan to lick his omega. Jack does not bring Brock close to orgasm, does not torture his prostate; he just widely licks soft swollen edges of his hole, enjoying the obedience and pliability not peculiar to Brock.
Tongue barely slips into his hole, curves, catches the top edge and laps it. Brock quietly gasps, retracts the stomach, tenses involuntary and relaxes when nothing else happens. He sees with half lidded eyes that Jack is smiling that little smile with the corner of his mouth, which he always reserves exclusively for Brock. Jack rubs his cheek against Brock's perineum, stroking the delicate skin with a silky beard and driving his lips along the twitching anus. As Brock relaxes, Jack slips his tongue into him again, nuzzling his balls not ready yet for a new orgasm. Curling his tongue Jack thrust it in Brock several times, seeking for the delicate mucous substance of omega's slick. Brock feels as something moves somewhere deep in his body and leaks along the inner walls, happily gushing to appease his alpha. Jack picks up new dose of slick, pulls out his tongue picking up the edge of the anus again making Brock gasp and arch again.
Jack plays this game until the next heat wave comes. Feeling Brock stopped to relax in his arms Jack presses his mouth to omega's hole last time, sucking it in parody of a kiss and smiling at a long low moan. Jack lowers Brock's legs on the bed, reaches for the bottle of water and waits hovering over Brock for him to drink half at least. And if Brock still tries to argue with his alpha on normal days, in heat he only opens flushed kissed lips and drinks obediently, knowing perfectly well disobedience will lead to punishment and he could be denied the knot.
(Actually, Jack is probably never going to leave him suffer like that cause Jack himself is in a rut. Jack needs to knot omega. But even if it was a normal day, he wouldn't mock Brock depriving him of necessary. Vital. Himself. But Brock is too lost in the hormonal haze to realize this so Jack allows himself to manipulate a petulant partner. Of course Brock wouldn't avoid punishment if done anything wrong, but it would be much easier.)
Jack drinks himself and puts down the empty bottle. Examining Brock, Jack raises his eyebrows questioningly, watching with joy as omega flushes intensely. Jack gives him a choice. Jack always gives him choice what pose they will enjoy each other. Brock shies too pretty to deprive himself of such pleasure. And now omega looked away and bit his lip fidgeting under the alpha, trying to decide what he wants and how to show it. Brock can think whatever he wants but Jack can't read his mind, so he always waits until omega says or at least shows that he wants.
Despite the fact Jack usually holds him at night always in the same position — covering and pressing him down as a human shield with Brock's back to Jack's chest, in the heat Brock surprisingly craves diversity. (Brock craves attention. More. All the attention alpha has should belong to him.) Brock rises pushing Jack's chest with open palm and Jack complies moving back and settling on his knees. He knotted Brock first time in their usual pose, but then Brock demanded sex face to face. Brock wants to see alpha, wants to know that alpha sees him, that alpha looks at him, watches him, maybe even admires him. Brock wants Jack admiring him. Brock's always admires Jack. Yeah, by stealth, but it still counts.
Brock pushes Jack to sit on his ass and straddles him, holding on his neck. Jack grins and raises his eyebrows. Brock blushes, looks away, but does not change their pose. Fidgeting and listening to his body he almost does not notice when Jack's palms lie on his hips, gently correcting his posture, prompting him to arch his back and expose his ass to ease penetration. Brock, watching alpha's reaction, carefully closes his fingers around thick shaft and guides it in himself. Jack smiles again, leans to Brock's mouth and licks his lips, while omega takes him in slowly.
There is almost no hesitation of their first nights in Brock. He opens his mouth and licks alpha in response, rolls his hips, taking him deeper without taking his eyes off Jack's. Green lakes mirrors two Brocks — both disheveled, tousled, flushed and desperately in love. Brock closes his eyes and glides along the entire length down, clenching his hands on Jack's shoulders. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to lose this sweet feeling of connection. He presses closer to Jack and begins to rise to provide the alpha's cock stimulation, but Jack puts both his hands on Brock's waist and easily holds him in place. Brock drops head on alpha's shoulder, caressing his neck with his lips, skin covered with marks of Brock's lips and teeth, inhales deeply and tries not to cry. Overwhelmed by emotions he pulses around thick shaft deep inside and Jack begins gently stroke his back, kissing his temple and his head and everywhere he can reach. Brock at the same time feels as another heat wave moving through his body like the tenth wave and as Jack's knot swells stretching him insistently. Two elements collide and Brock's mind whites out. Brock whimpers, clenches, cums and shuts down, falling into unconsciousness in the safety of alpha's hands. There are three days of peace and happiness more.
Their first shared heat Brock and Jack have in the Brock's Nonna house. Brock doesn't know how it happened. When they signed all the papers and Jack provided Brock with blockers, new doctor, who did not demand Brock to get pregnant immediately, offered them several options for their cycles, with one-, five - and ten-year interval. They have chosen an annual because it was better for their health, decimated with military drugs. And Jack did not want to lose the opportunity to fuck Brock in his heat more than once, because they could not afford more frequent cycle with their lifestyle and there was a chance they wouldn't live till the end of decade.
Pills — check.
Papers — check.
Controlled synchronized cycles — check.
It never occurred to Brock that he should choose a suitable place for such an important event. This, of course, isn't a bonding ceremony, which in their case, if he discards the circumstances, ещщл здфсу in a very romantic setting — abroad, under the starry sky, when they both didn't know each other's names... In general Brock probably would easily agree to spend this week in one of the family rooms on the medical floor at the base, where everything was clinically sterile, proper and drugs scented.
He probably should have expected Jack will give him his Trademark Look how-did-you-even-think-such-thing and prompts him in mild form to consider other options, even giving Brock the brochure from their clinic with an acid-pink title "Your first shared heat: five steps to perfection!" Brock was sick of the sight of smiling stupidly people on the cover, which his brain graciously ignored in the clinic.
The brochure strongly recommended to choose a cozy, safe place, and it was necessary for omega to choose, because apparently tough alphas was not disturbed with deserts and family rooms at clinics. (Brock didn't know he has to be disturbed with them. Why clinic was not safe? Well, the coziness wasn't a case, but Brock didn't know how coziness looks and lived with it peacefully, following simple rules of cleaning in their compartment at the base and in Jack's place in the city).
Along with the place of the heat (like Brock was preparing his house to welcome fucking President) there were prompts for food choosing (nothing spicy and milky. Brock decided not to look the reasons on the Internet), for products of the sexual industry (lubricant without taste, gel for the treatment of erased, chafed and bitten places, cleaning products, fucking hell of things) and for the proper underwear. Brock stares shocked for a long time at silk decorated with lace and embroidery with lots of ribbons and bows and frills and shiny things.
The fifth point was the mood. Brock feels his mood is somewhere around a deadly panic. He puts brochure on the table — very carefully, trying not to crumple and tear, so as not to upset Jack with his sloppiness — takes his phone and keys and silently leaves the house.
Nonna examines Jack from head to toe (it takes a long time because Jack is huge. Brock still can't get used how huge his alpha.) Jack waits silently, holding a neat bouquet of light pink tulips in one hand and tracing soothing circles on the Brock's back with the other, as if it's not him being looked over but omega. Nonna grins showing Brock both thumbs, takes Jack's flowers and calls them in. Jack turns to Brock with raised eyebrow, and omega flushes deeply and wishes to stop be embarrassed of his own alpha. He loves his Nonna (he loves Jack). He's damn glad his sister couldn't make here because kids have school. (Brock is glad that their cycle came in time with school. He still does not understand how it happened that they will spend their first shared heat at Nonna's. He's blaming mental breakdown for that phone call.)
Stepping through the door Brock inhales deeply the smell of home. He misses it. He is so used to the universal smells of military bases he’d almost forgotten the happiness fills his heart, when his nose catches mix familiar since childhood: alpha-family-tasty-warm-safe. Cozy. Jack’s also suppressed most of the time (their cycles are synchronized to provide rut and heat in pre-signed week off, which Brock is waiting with curling toes), but even he inhales deeply without hiding from the overflowing Nonna’s smell: old alpha had lived in this house since her birth. Maybe Jack is so calm because Brock’s smell has some tones of his grandmother's. Maybe Jack is always calm. Brock is happy that his alphas will not argue and pull him to the sides.
Nonna let Brock enlist because she thought he'd never settle down. Male omegas were rare in the world and constant in her family. She knew what to expect from them. Brock remembers pleasure blossomed in her voice when he asked for permission to bring his alpha to her. Not the alpha he spent a heat with, or dated a couple of times at the bar, or was checking out his feelings. Alpha who marked him. Alpha who asked what kind of flowers he needs to bring to Nonna. Alpha who made the casserole (and if Brock hadn't literally eaten the whole pan the day before, he wouldn't have let Jack bring the casserole to Nonna. Jack cooks heavenly and Brock's greedy.) His alpha.
Brock knows Jack has things in their duffel-bag of a specific type, taste and purpose that he has asked to buy in despair. When Jack learned that Brock had chosen the den his Nonna’s he became at once kinda softer and lighter and he agreed to get the rest of the items from the silly brochure. Well maybe not that stupid. Brock feels his panic melting away. Even when he notices with the corner of his eye something lacy among things Jack packed (lush golden and not pink!), Brock just rolls his eyes no longer feeling desire to escape to the edge of the world, or at least to break something.
The heat in the fucking jungles was neither unexpected, nor thought-out, nor particularly pleasant. They supposed to get back from a mission three days ago, report, pack and go to Nonna accustomed in five years to welcome them in her house and jokingly demanded Jack to ensure there’s gonna be new generation of Rumlow. Each time Brock rises indignantly, reminding her about all his nephews and nieces who can provide leisure to the whole platoon of nannies. Jack smiles softly and strokes his back, kisses calmingly his temple or just pulls him in his lap to sooth furious omega. (Brock never tells anyone that if they have a baby, it will be Rollins, not Rumlow. It's a matter of principle. But nobody knows about it. Probably.)
The jet which was supposed to pick up three corpses and six survivors including one of the local drug lords is shot down on approach.
Brock can swear with his soul that heat in a sweet quiet desert much more preferable to the heat in fucking jungle, populated by snakes, crocodiles, monkeys and other monsters including their teammates. He once again convinces himself the part about the mood from that ancient brochure was really important. As about right place too. He's always clenched from the constant tension and it hurts like hell every time Jack pulls him on his knot. They don't strip. They don't change poses. They slacken out the most harsh waves, separated from others by bushes not ensure even a semblance of privacy. They pull back, pull their pants on and keep going to the new evac point where the probability of loosing another jet for artillery is much less than before.
Wesfahl knocks drug lord’s (beautiful Mexican alpha to the bone) teeth out for a remark about Brock that he did not even understand because he doesn’t speak Mexican. Westfahl’s beta. Betas are all crazy especially when it comes to omegas, but Jack seemed to choose people with sure level of madness in their blood for his team. Brock doesn't ask what jerk said about his ass, or groans, or dick. He gives Westfahl his last chocolate bar because they have just two days left and it's not as big a sacrifice as one might think from tears shined in eyes of their operator.
Brock pushes ugly green snake flopped down on his shoulder. It irritably hisses and creep somewhere away in the grass. Snakes aren't tasty. Especially when you're in heat. Especially when you're so exhausted you want to ask your alpha to carry you. Any alpha. Brock has so much to whine about the stuff they eat here he's willing to ask fucking Mexican to carry him though jerk looks as bad as the rest of them. Brock keeps silent and walks behind Jack without taking his eyes from broad back. From big, beautiful, reliable back. Brock wants to climb onto this back, shrink his teeth in salty nape, entwine broad chest with his arms, rub his cock on solid lower back…
Brock's shakes himself. Bites his lip. Looks away when Jack turns around as if sensing something. Even after all these years Brock's not sure Jack doesn't read his mind. On the other hand, he still hasn't killed him. Beat him bloodily a few times so that Brock still shudders sometimes glancing on the wide leather belt but didn't kill. So, doesn’t read. Doesn't know. Brock breathes carefully and tries to think about something neutral. Barely tamed heat still storms through his veins heedless of stress and demands attention. Brock exhales through his nose, lowers his eyes so not to stare at Jack’s back. And stares at his ass. Inhales. Looks at his feet. Yeah, it's safer. Snakes in sight and no ass.
Brock desperately sorry for a rich green silk that’s left on the top shelf of Jack’s closet.
Maybe since he is omega he’s allowed not only in the heat?..
Jack's fingers move surely in Brock’s hole using his natural slick for a smooth glide. Two rough thick fingers with calloused pads, neatly trimmed fingernails, thoroughly licked by Brock before Jack pushed them in him. Brock sits on Jack's lap spreading his legs wide and clinging to Jack's forearm with both hands, head threw back on alpha’s shoulder and eyes closed as not to see anything around. Jack sucks his ear caressing shell with his tongue, tracing every curve and curl of flesh like he’s never seen it before. His fingers move slowly and easily, catching edges with his knuckles pulling out and barely pressing Brock’s prostate pushing deep inside.
Jack's in no hurry. Jack looks at Brock’s pink cock leaking at his stomach and caresses him inside and out. Jack's good alpha. Jack's good soldier. Jack is able to combine both even when it seems impossible. He pulls his fingers out listening to rasped breathing. Brock's close. A little more caresses and Brock will arch, squeeze his fingers on Jack's arm and spill covering them both with the sweetly smelling omega sperm. Jack slowly traces Brock’s shaft from his balls to cockhead with his fingers, pressing it to Brock’s belly and licking his lips. Pink head of an omega member looks like the most delicious treat in the world. Not his today. He traces wet skin with his thumb, rubbing his slit, bites earlobe and, eyes closed, Jack allows himself to forget for a few moments.
Then he shakes himself, his hand moves down again and he pushes three fingers into the soft pliable flesh. Brock's inside like silk. Smooth, wet, hot. Inviting. Giving. Jack sighs. Gently presses Brock’s prostate and does not let go, feeling the usual joy when Brock gasps his name. Usually chatty Brock remains during sex as shy and quiet as he was their first time, only then he whispered "please alpha don’t" and now an endless song of "please Jack more" pours from his mouth.
Jack. Jack. Jack. Never alpha. Only if lil shit’s teasing. Only if he feels safe. Only if something's wrong.
— Jack. Please, Jack. Jack.
Jack curls his fingers and Brock archs predictably, whimpers and cums. He goes limp smiling sated, happy, warm and dear, a pleasant weight settles in Jack’s hands. Omega. Chosen by him. Jack was rewarded for excellent service with one. Got him where no one will know under what circumstances it happened. Jack knew Pierce had allowed him omega for a reason.
He looks up at their only witness.
Brock is starting to suspect that someone is deliberately sets them with Jack up. Otherwise how else to explain that in the seventh anniversary they get stuck in snow-covered Russia? Yes, at least they are not on the street but in a good house, where there is food and water and heating and several rooms to accommodate all with sufficient ease (and his ears quite clearly hear Andersen and Mercier doing the same down the hall, and betas snore in the room between them ignoring anything and everything). And no snakes nor sand nor soldiers shooting them down (nor the smell of the house nor warm soup nor solar warm…)
To be honest Brock only dimly aware of what is around and what is not, because the most important thing is Jack, and Jack is. When there's Jack everything else stops making a difference. When there is Jack Brock can forget about everything, he can forget himself, he can just forget. Dissolve in hot hands, hot breath, settling on his skin, hot gazes. Brock feels with the edge of consciousness that there somehow more than one hot gaze and it seems to be wrong. Jack, on the other hand, will see to it. It is up to omega to show his alpha how much he enjoys his attention. Brock does enjoy. He senses that they are not home, that their teammates are around and perhaps this feeling of someone's presence is caused by them.
Brock flows in the haze of heat opening and accepting, and even if something seems wrong he only responds to Jack's voice which whispers something in his licked ear without pause. Brock chuckles fascinated with the idea that Jack will chew his ear by the end of the heat and it will look completely ridiculous. Jack usually likes it when he laughs but now he soothes him, tells him to be quiet, quiet baby, that's right, quiet sugar. They're not home. They shouldn’t disturb others. They will not get a piece of him and they will be offended. Brock laughs but quietly, because Jack told him so, because he can not disobey alpha. He admires how Jack always copes with his rut. Maybe the thing is it's only the beginning now, maybe he’s not that deep yet as Brock, maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
Brock feels dizzy when thick cock pushes into his hole stretched by Jack, too fast and unfamiliar. Brock gasps but Jack changes something already, corrects, soothes him, hugs him, strokes his head, his thigh, his cock. Jack's got a dozen hands and he's everywhere. Brock laughs again and relaxes. Jack's gonna do the right thing. Even if Brock thinks that something is wrong, it does not mean that it is not right. Right? He turns his head and nuzzles Jack's neck, inhales deeply and drops into the heat completely, ceasing to realize anything at all.
Jack holds Brock opened so it's comfortable for Winter Soldier to fuck him kneeling in front of them. They both look only on Brock, soft and helpless in the hands of two huge alphas. Jack frowns a bit from the smell of other alpha’s rut. Jack didn’t stop taking blockers month ago as Brock did. Jack got his orders long before that. He looks at Brock and hugs him closer making sure that Winter wouldn’t harm his omega. He doesn't know how he restrained himself and didn’t break Pierce’s teeth, when he suggested just to throw Brock to the Soldier and let him to sort out with his nature by himself. Jack's a good soldier. Jack's a good alpha.
Brock breathes in his smell tucked his face in Jack’s neck. Brock clenches his fingers on Jack’s hand holding him. Brock's so deep in the heat he's not likely to realize what's going on. Jack’s not sure if he remembers at all about Soldier’s presence in their room. He cosseted Brock into complete immersion in the peak wave of heat and then beckoned Soldier standing at attention. He worked with Jack’s group for long and often and he was accustomed submit to slightest gestures. Steel eyes with blown pupils watched Jack’s hands intently while he was preparing Brock. Now he watches his cock sinks into a warm soft flesh enchanted with unhurried rhythm Jack forced him into. Jack watches too.
Brock's hole opens pliantly taking a heavy hot cock dark with blood filled it. Soldier pushes in to the root with quite hard thrust and then pulls out slowly and smoothly obeying Jack’s hand and leaving in only the head. And again. And again. Without breaking mechanical rhythm, holding his left hand on the armrest and the right one — on Brock’s thigh for balance. Jack's watching his dick. When a knot begins to swell at the base he gestures Soldier stop pulling out. Soldier complies but now he looks at Jack, stunned by an unfamiliar sensation. There’s childlike sincere delight splashing in his eyes. Jack sighs. No one but he will remember this. The soldier will be wiped after successful operation. Brock will only remember his alpha. Jack closes his eyes for a moment. He feels old and tired. He’s in his forties. He lets a killer with a metal hand to fuck his omega. There's burning in his throat. Brock moans softly and rubs his lips against his neck as if feeling and trying to numb the pain. Jack opens his eyes, exhales and takes hold on himself.
Good thing Brock's already in his hold. Good thing Brock's his. Good.
He locks eyes with Soldier more assured. They wait in silence for his knot to subside. Jack won't let Soldier even breathe at his omega without supervision. Jack feels unspoken approval from the Soldier. They're all hostages of the system. Someone realizes this better, someone worse. Soldier pulls out and Jack sends him into the shower. He gets up with Brock and goes to bed, pulls omega to himself and exhales. There are a few days this torture ahead.
Soldier comes back with a wet towel and wipes Brock under Jack’s supervision, then lays down with them. He's lying on Jack's side. Throws his hand over Jack to touch Brock with his fingertips. Jack doesn’t want to tear or dislodge something of his.
Maybe Pierce is right. Maybe this way Brock will be safer.
The most important thing is this way Brock will be and no one will try to get rid of him.