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You and Me and the Devil Makes Three

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Out of all the dumb ass ideas that Pierce had, Brock had to say that this was the worst. It ranked right up there with that goddam mission that got him stranded in Serbia for six months. He wasn't stranded in the Ritz, of course, he was stranded in a prison camp and wound up damn near getting his balls cut off after he bit a guard. The part he didn't tell SHIELD HQ was that he returned as soon as he could walk and spent three glorious days making sure every damn guard felt his pain and then some. There was a reason he was so good with a stun baton and as much as he might joke with Rollins and the rest of them, he wasn't going to tell them how he got those skills.

If they wanted to know, they could go read his file. If they wanted to read his file, they could suck Pierce's dick and he would let them read it. It was as simple as that.

Brock squirmed some, not liking how vulnerable he felt. Part of his mission required that he be stripped down bare ass naked and sprawled over Roger's lap. Rogers, of course, got to keep his pants and gloves. Brock tried to focus on how much he hated the belt digging into his hips and not how strange he was feeling right now. Brock was used to a shit ton of pain when he got like this, not the slow, heady pleasure coiling in his gut. At this point, the little sounds he was making wasn't just play acting. He was actually enjoying this, but a part of him was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Eventually, Rogers was going to smack him or something and he'd go right back to reality.

His eyes fluttered closed and Brock made a strangled sound. Rogers tightened his grip around Brock's dick, moving his fingers in all the right places. Brock jumped a little. He made a half grunt, half moan and sagged back as soon as Rogers started moving his hands just a little more. So. This felt good. It felt really damn good and Rogers hadn't hit him once. A part of Brock wanted to snarl something like Hail HYDRA and get the pain over with. He hated waiting for it. Pierce and his buddy Senator Moore usually slapped him around good if he screwed up and then they did the fucking. Rogers was going the fucking first. Brock wasn't sure if he liked this or not.

"Hey, Rumlow? Are you still into this?"

Brock looked down and cursed internally. He'd started flagging and it looked like he was moving away from Rogers. Brock forced himself to go back where he'd been sitting, right over Rogers' hard on, and went to thinking about his favorite spank bank. "Yeah," he grunted. Brock arched his back some and looped an arm around Rogers' neck. He lazily nuzzled into his neck, something the Winter Soldier liked, and apparently that worked with Rogers, too. "Just not as young as I used to be. Gimme a minute."

Rogers bit his bottom lip and damn his blue eyes, but he looked concerned. "If you aren't into this...?"

"I am!" Brock snarled, with perhaps more force than was needed. Rogers' eyes widened. Brock swore under his breath and looked up to the heavens. If he screwed this up, he was on his way to Reinhardt and Zola for experimentation. Brock had already been dosed with a weird version of the serum for fucking up dealing with that demon pirate, Tom Cutter, and not being the bait. Sue him, but he didn't want to get his ass ripped open by half a dozen demons on a ship called The Devil's Reach. Brock twisted around and kissed Rogers' firmly. He knew Pierce was going to watch this later and he wanted to make sure this was good. He was valuable - he didn't need to end up as a dead body getting cut up.

"Brock, it's okay." Rogers kissed him back and cupped Brock's aching balls. He tensed - as if he was expecting Captain Boy Scout to twist them or something. All Rogers did was kiss his neck and do something with his hands that felt so good it was probably illegal. Rogers kissed Brock again and traced something soothing on his thigh, right where he'd been stabbed by a drug runner several years ago. "You're so beautiful, you know that. I love looking at you, watching you walk, seeing you lead your team... I wish I had half of your confidence."

That was nice, but it wasn't completing the mission.

Brock opened his mouth to say something, but his phone lit up and lyrics to an old sea shanty came pouring out. Brock tried to throw it, but it slipped out of his hand and kept warbling about a guy drowning in the cold and billowing seas. The man swore under his breath and jerked away from Rogers. So. He didn't feel like he needed to scrub himself with bleach after this and he was still hard. Well, that was a new one on him. Brock jabbed the phone and glanced up at Rogers. Rogers was looking at him like he didn't understand what was going on. Brock was supposed to be luring Rogers in close to him, like he was a normal human being and not a fuck toy that functioned as STRIKE leader, so that meant he had to divulge privileged information to someone he'd known for a week. Lovely.

"My mother said I was descended from Blackbeard." Brock dumped the caller (he thought it was Nick Fury.) and stood back up. He could get this going again, but Rogers was already sniffing around. Brock crawled back on the couch and deftly grabbed his shirt. He didn't mind being on the bottom. He just had issues taking it up the ass. He curled up beside Rogers and flashed his most jaunty smile. "Always been interested in pirates. Wouldn't mind you being my pirate prince."

You happy, Pierce? Why don't you get Rollins to do this job? Or someone with actual training?

Rogers pulled Brock close to him and grabbed a blanket. "In that case, why don't you get presentable and we can watch Pirates of the Caribbean together. Unless you want to finish..."

Yeah, Brock wasn't in the mood and he usually didn't get an out. "Movie and popcorn? Yeah, move over Spangles."

He'd take the punishment later, but Brock liked popcorn better than sex, thank you.