bakerstreet | In a rut because we're in rut

In a rut because we're in rut

THE IN HEAT/IN RUT AU MEME
not an alpha/beta/omega meme

There's no need for elaborate backstories for this AU. You go into heat, rut, whatever you'd like to call it. You've always done so since you were of age to do so. It's a socially accepted norm, and people have gotten used to the difficulties that come with the mating seasons. Life goes on.

Isn't this alpha/beta/omega, then? No, not at all. In this meme, there are no gender-variant genitalia unless your character comes prepackaged with those. No giant cocks - again, unless your character is already packing - or self-lubricating assholes or anal wombs, and no knotting. Unless that's your thing. There's also no set in stone roles with regards to dominance and submission, and some people do not even feel the inclination towards either. Still, there are a few similarities, mainly being that the pheromones of others can put someone into heat that was not in it before and the bond between mates. In addition, some humans/human-stand-ins have created packlike dynamics in response, but this is not universal.

In this meme, it's just regular old human...oids feeling the urge for sex. And by "urge," we of course mean all-consuming drive. If characters choose to ignore that urge, it will backfire on them. The more they put it off, the more they will lose their control, becoming more irritable and aggressive, and eventually be nothing but a rutting animal until the need to mate is satisfied. Not all heats call for mating, of course, and most people can just relieve themselves, but when you do mate, you feel the urge to stay by their side and essentially "nest." These desires don't always pan out into offspring, and mating isn't forever unless it's mutually decided upon. However, impregnating your mate is said to be one of the most euphoric experiences a person can have, even if some people only mate because they want to utterly possess someone, as mates are bonded for a while.

If there's anything that's to your fancy that's been left out, go ahead and add it in. Play it how you'd like!

HOW TO PLAY

Comment with your character and preferences.

Include what you're interested and not interested in.

Respond to others!

PROMPTS

first heat: Baby's first heat. YOU'RE A TEENAGER/LATE BLOOMER AND WHAT IS THIS?

old hand: You've done this a million times, but it never gets any easier.

happen to be here: You're not picky. You can't afford to be. You'll take anybody who's nearby.

old faithful: You're going to the person you always go to in order to relieve your problem.

worked something out: The two of you aren't involved. You just help each other out.

unexpected: You never expected to rut with this person, but here you are.

forbidden: AKA the obligatory incest or age difference option.

volunteer: You've offered yourself up out of the kindness of your heart.

tribute: This isn't your offer. You're the offer from others, a gift for someone powerful to sate their appetite.

mating: You've decided to go one step further and make your relationship deeper.

nesting: Aaah, (temporary) domestic bliss. And lots of fucking. Lots and lots of fucking. Like, you'll barely be able to stand.

bonding: The bond, which is mildly psychic and intensely physical, makes sex even more intense.

the natural conclusion: Heat calls for pregnancy. Get someone pregnant.

already pregnant: Unfortunately, being knocked up doesn't abate your partner's desires. Or yours.

mates for life: Now you're absolutely certain that you want to be with no one else. Of course, this means you'll be in synch with their heat for the rest of forever.

save you: You've been saved from the advances of an undesired mate by someone who may be much more suited. Show your gratitude?

cockfight: Two people want the same mate. That won't do. There are ways to figure that out, not always involving fists.

increase in dominance: Exactly what it says.

increase in submission: Again, exactly what it says.

unexpected dominance: No one expects you to ever be dominant. Prove them wrong.

protect: You want to protect your mate from others, and that means putting your scent all over them.

set off by someone else: You were doing fine until you got a whiff of someone else's pheromones.

resisting temptation: Your heart belongs to someone. You want to stay out of this "heat" thing. You want to rise above it. Whatever it may be, you just have to not take the bait. Easier said than done.

all worked up: You're beginning to lose control and yourself. Quick, do something before you're jumping anything that moves.

pack: As mentioned prior, some people, especially those far out from civilization proper, have formed packs that hold to the more traditional alpha structure. Of course, these packs come with their own rules when it comes to heat and mating.

suitable partner: The desire for certain mates can come from a subconscious level, and you can find yourself aroused by someone showing how strong they are (they can protect you), how curvaceous they look (that must mean they're fertile), or any other number of traits that can benefit you.

desperation: You'll take anyone! Anything!

final release: You've reached your breaking point and your mindless. At least you'll get relief.

fighter: Part of your process is seeing who's worthy of you by testing their mettle. That, or you want to fight anything.

off your meds: It's fairly rare, but some can get blockers for their heat. What if those blockers run out? Why, it makes your heat ten times worse!

noncon: They don't want this. You don't want to stop this.

dubcon: You say no, but your body says yes and you can't stop loving it.

calm you down: Whether it's to fuck or to fight, you're going mad, and they have to bring you back down to Earth.

territorial: How dare someone look at what belongs to you? You'll have to make things right.

odd man out: For some reason, you don't go into heat. Never have. Being with you is pretty relaxing, and some find it appealing to not have to deal with pheromones that aren't theirs. You do have to learn how to appreciate their problems, though.

WILDCARD

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[Sure i'd be down for a mix of everything, honestly. Maybe one "saves" the other and it triggers the need to mate etc. I'm fine with assuming CR or having them meet for the first time too since it's a rut AU]

(ooc: Oooh I love that idea! I hope this is okay - feel free to change anything you'd like!)

[This wasn't supposed to happen. Bruce had been taking his blockers diligently, making sure that no amount of pheromones or physical contact could possibly set him off. He had work to do, important work, and being in rut was an inconvenience he didn't have the time to deal with.

Besides, he hated the idea of willingly accepting anyone who came along just because his physical needs were too strong to ignore. If he ever did find a mate - which, all things considered, was very unlikely - he wanted it to be someone he truly enjoyed being with on a regular basis, and not just a body that fulfilled his sexual needs.

All those well-made plans came crashing down around him, though, when an emergency at the lab caused him to forget to take his meds. He got through the next twenty-four hours without incident, but by the next day he was wandering around in a haze, his body too hot and his brain not working properly. He got sidetracked on his way to the lab and was sniffed out by a group of men with ragged clothes and hungry eyes. They trapped him in an alley and started grabbing at him, their own minds clouded by their need to rut.

Bruce panicked, but he didn't transform - somehow, it seemed the Other Guy wasn't to keen on interrupting him during a heat, no matter how frightened or angry he was. He tried yelling, but in a society like this, in a city like this, no one was willing to risk themselves to help one lonely, weak man.]

[In a world like theirs, routine is important. Frank wouldn't really know what to do with himself without one, without taking care of the more inconvenient aspects of his biology that keep him from the important things. Life, however, is not always so kind or orderly and it's proven as much time and again. Today seems to be no different. Frank shouldn't be here. If he was a lesser man he'd walk away and ignore a cry for help in order to keep to his own business. Taking on the mantle of vigilante is proof enough of what kind of man he is though despite rejecting the word, despite having his own mission. That doesn't mean he doesn't give a damn.

He's practically next door when he hears the call, at first ignoring it as some rowdy kids, but when there's a distinct panic and muffled helps he curses his conscience for being so damn loud. Following the noise is easy enough and when he comes upon the group so clearly intent on their current mission there's a wave of pheromones strong enough to nearly knock Frank off his feet. Thankfully he's been keeping up with his own blockers enough to not be affected to the point of submission.

The guy who is currently being groped and grabbed at, however, does not look like he's of sound mind.

An anger flares up in him as he approaches without a word and grabs the nearest asshole by the neck of his coat, pulling him back and rewarding him with a swift kick to the knee. The man cries out in pain and falls, and when the others stir up in a panic and try to run it's not long before Frank catches up with them too, punches flying and a few bones breaking. It doesn't take a genius to know what these scumbags were trying to do and the fact that they'd so easily take advantage is disgusting, instinct or not.]

Get the fuck out of here. [Is all he'll offer the closest bleeding prick staggering against a wall to get away, pants around his legs as he tries to flee. Frank should probably kill them but he can smell the potency of their own untrained ruts and knows they're acting on uncontrollable desire.]

[The worst part about the assault isn't the overpowering mob of rut-driven men intent on violating him. No, the worst part is that a part of Bruce wants it, wants to be taken and used and marked by them, no matter how awful it might be. His cries for help could be louder, could be more convincing, but they're tinged with that edge of desire that makes him hate himself for his biology.

By the time his saviour comes along Bruce has practically given up. His clothes are torn and dirty, his glasses are askew, and his face is red from not only fear and shame but desire, too. It's not until the grasping fingers disappear and cries of pain are ringing out that Bruce looks up and sees Frank. The pile of broken bodies is nothing short of astounding - Bruce knows that those in heat often fight bloody, awful battles over a particularly good mate, but he's never heard of anything on this scale.

At first, he doesn't move or speak. This man doesn't smell particularly strongly of pheromones, nor is he advancing towards Bruce, so perhaps the fight wasn't over him at all. It's hard to believe the someone would just show up and kick the crap out of a bunch of would-be rapists, though, so when Bruce finally manages to get some words out they take the form of a query.]

W-Why - why did you do that? [He reaches up to readjust his glasses and realizes he's shaking.] I mean - thank you.

[It's pathetic how easily they were downed but Frank also isn't a man to be crossed with when he's angry. He doesn't know who this man is nor does he particularly care, only that he's alright now.

The stammering voice breaks him out of his thoughts and Frank turns to properly look at the man now. Despite not being as desperate himself his fingers still twitch at his sides, feeling a faint, low creep of desire beneath the surface of his collected nature. It can't be helped when the other's need is this strong.]

They were hurting you, right? [One sweep of his gaze and he can tell it was rougher than necessary. Frank's seen worse and there's been worse around the world but that doesn't make this any less severe.] You should be home.

[There's no doubt in Bruce's mind that he owes this man, whoever he is, a great debt. He wants to say as much, but his brain isn't exactly functioning rationally at the moment. It's all he can do to speak normally. Of course, it doesn't help matters that this guy is tall and strong and clearly good at dominating other people. With the state Bruce is in, even the faintest hint of his scent is enough to practically make him beg.

Swallowing, he does what he can to adjust his clothing and takes a couple of unsteady steps forward.] Yeah, I... [Trailing off, he looks around and curses himself inwardly for his helplessness. The truth is he's not going to be much good to anyone in this state, not even himself.]

I think - it might be dangerous. [He feels fear creeping up inside of him, and a small, primitive voice in the back of his head urges him to move closer still to his unexpected companion. He keeps a fair distance between them, though, knowing that this man is capable of terrible things, no matter how kind he may seem.] I live kind of far away from here, and I'm not... [He gestures uselessly at himself, indicating his already-deteriorating state. It's clear, to him at least, that the chances of this happening again are high, especially in this part of the city.]

[Frank isn't recognized either which is probably for the best. He knows how distracting ruts can be on good days let alone ones like this, strong enough to even get past Frank's suppressors. It isn't as intense as it could be of course but still enough to make him feel something, enough to get his pulse racing beyond the adrenaline of a fight. His hands ache and his knuckles are bloody but he keeps them clenched at his sides now just to keep himself in check. He isn't some animal.]

Yeah... Yeah, I get it. [Quickly wetting his lips, Frank looks down the alley toward the street and back again, seemingly lost in thought. Trying not to stare too long isn't working too well when the man is this close and his rut is potent enough for Frank to feel almost jittery.]

What's your name? [There's a brief pause. Deep breath, Castle.] I'm Frank. I have a car, I can drive you home. [As if he has reason to trust a stranger in this state but it's something.]

[In the time Frank takes to think, Bruce gets lost looking at him. Even if he wasn't in the desperate state his rut's put him in, he'd still notice how good-looking this guy is. He's built like a soldier, muscles obvious despite the layers of clothing he's got on. The way he holds himself speaks volumes about his personality: stoic, steady, the perfect person to have at your side when you feel as weak as Bruce does in this moment.

The question brings him to his senses somewhat, but the offer that follows it leads Bruce's mind right back down the rabbit hole his rut's driven him into. Get closer, he keeps thinking, he can help. Help, of course, meaning more than just beating up a gang of assholes.]

I'm Bruce. [The words come out sounding more coy than he intends. He takes another step forward and now he's inches away from being too close, existing on the periphery of Frank's personal space. From here the pheromones he's emitting are impossible to ignore, and he knows it.] I would really appreciate that.

[On a normal day Frank isn't alright with people imposing on his personal space. He keeps most people at an arm's length (and beyond) for a number of reasons but most of all their own good, keeping them out of his life. On a good day Frank can avoid situations like this altogether. Today does not seem to be one of those. It would be so easy for the wrong person to take advantage of something like this and in a way, that already happened to the guy. Frank can empathize even with the faint fog of heat curling over his body and into his mind the closer Bruce gets. His fingers twitch again.]

It's not... safe out here. [He reiterates. How intense would it be had he not taken his medication either? Frank tries not to think too hard on that because somehow it just makes the feeling worse.]

Come on. It's not too far. [He tips his head to the other end of the alley away from the main street, leading the way to a truck parked not two blocks away. By the time they get there he's feeling the heat creep up the back of his neck and Frank wonders if they'll even make it a mile out before having to stop. Getting inside the car only heightens the scent in such a small, enclosed space, and his hands are gripping the wheel so damn tight.] Where am I going?

[The part of Bruce that's cursing himself for giving in to this base biology is shrinking further and further away the longer he spends in Frank's presence. Everything about the situation just screams of potential. This person not only saved him, but he's also intent on taking him home - protecting him, really, from the dangers that lurk around every corner. Those traits strike Bruce right to the core, and he can't help but become a little more submissive, in the hopes it'll make him seem more desirable to this mystery man.

When they climb into the truck it's all Bruce can do to speak properly. As soon as the doors close he's trapped in a cloud of scent - even if Frank's on suppressants, the interior of the vehicle is totally covered in smells that set off Bruce's urge to mate. Taking deep, relaxing breaths doesn't help; it just gives his brain and body more fuel. When he goes to put on his seatbelt his hands are shaking more than ever.]

Um. [He tries to think. Where is home, again? His mind feels heavy, and concentrating on anything other than Frank's powerful presence is difficult.] Up - uptown. [Even as he says it, his mind tells him not to, tells him to stay here with Frank and let him do whatever he wants.]

Alright. [Is all he offers as he starts up the car and drives away from the scene. His heart is still trying to beat out of his chest and driving distracted is not helping. How did he get himself in this situation? Didn't he have shit to take care of today?

He is slowly, slowly being driven mad. Frank hasn't actually mated with anyone or even helped with their heat or rut in years. It's different than regular sex and the intensity is dangerous at times. Holding back is easier when you keep yourself isolated.

When they stop at a red light Frank tips his head back against the seat and sighs heavily, glancing over to Bruce again.] You're going to need help, you can't stay like this. [But offering doesn't seem... right. Even as his body screams for it. Frank can't even hide the fact that he's hard in his jeans from being beside him this long without a moment's touch and he'd be embarrassed if it wasn't the fault of their biology.]

[Without conversation to distract him, Bruce can't help but listen to the rut-driven thoughts running wild in his head. Try as he might not to, he can't help but continually glance over at Frank, noticing more and more details each time that contribute to the idea of him being an ideal mate.

Not that Bruce actually, rationally wants a mate. Or, to be more precise, he doesn't want a mate that he just met on the street and knows literally nothing about. He hates himself for not being able to fight off the heat building up inside of him, but that hatred does nothing to stem the flow of desire.

There's no hiding the way his pupils have dilated, nor the way his skin is flushed. His clothing is still a mess and the upper portion of his chest is just visible; his hair's already mussed from the attack. All in all, he looks quite ready to be debauched.

When Frank looks over at him Bruce feels a fresh wave of need course through his veins, and it's all he can do to keep from jumping out of his seat and climbing into Frank's lap. One glance southwards confirms that he's having an effect on Frank, too, and that's all the reason his mind needs to push him past the tipping point.]

Could you... [No, he does not want to ask this question. A brief mental battle leaves him defeated, though, and the rest of it comes out, soft and needy:] If - if you wanted to, maybe you could help...?

[Even without the influence of a rut and pheromones messing with brain chemistry, Bruce is still an attractive man, and Frank's own desire is fueled by the fact that he's clearly ready to be submissive. Not exactly an opportunity presented to him daily. Still, a part of him continues to be wrought with guilt. Frank has a good moral conscience but he's hardly meant to be anyone's mate. Not anymore.

The soft, pleading tone is apparently enough to do him in.]

Fuck. [He breathes out quietly and takes a moment to rationalize his thoughts. Not working too well. As soon as the light turns green again Frank's reaching over to take Bruce's arm and bring his hand across to his lap, letting him feel how affected he's gotten.] Yeah. Yeah, I'll help you.

[Even though Frank's body seems to be giving off all the signs that indicate willingness, that doesn't necessarily mean he wants Bruce. Situations like this can be tricky, and the mess of hormones that come into play when either or both party is dealing with a heat or rut makes things even more complicated. There's a reason why Bruce's lizard brain is telling him to act more submissive - he needs to respond to what he interprets from Frank to make himself more desirable. There's no guarantee it'll work; Frank could easily brush him off.

The momentary silence makes Bruce consider taking back the offer, and embarrassment surges within him - but when Frank's fingers close over his arm a spark ignites within him. Feeling how hard he's gotten is enough to destroy any remnants of doubt in Bruce's mind. He makes no attempt to hide a sharp, surprised intake of breath - Frank feels huge, and maybe it's just the hormones that make him seem that way but to Bruce it's the best outcome possible.]

Fuck, [he echoes, his voice small, as his palm rubs over the bulge in the denim. He licks his lips and glances up at Frank's face, his heart pounding.]

Where...? [Not that the location particularly matters, but Bruce's curiosity comes through no matter how lost he is in his heat.]

[Where? is a good question. Frank's place isn't close and he definitely can't take a stranger there. It's supposed to be a private safe house and showing it to Bruce could compromise his identity. Uptown is closer but patience is wearing thin on them both. Frank can only imagine how the other man feels.

The hand on him is encouragement though and Frank makes an executive decision.]

Your place is closer. I'm in Hell's Kitchen. [And although he'd park somewhere and take care of things in his truck, finding privacy in the city is next to impossible at this time of day. Thankfully Frank knows the ins and outs of the back streets of New York and pulls off the main roads to take a shortcut with Bruce's directions, avoiding most traffic found near Manhattan.

Despite the gradual haze in his mind Frank is hardly as worse off as he could be. Still, he keeps Bruce's hand there to encourage and sate a growing need, driving a bit faster than he likely should.] Please fucking tell me we're close.

[Okay, so, when Bruce had directed Frank to take him uptown, he hadn't really thought it through. With the mess he's in, he can't really be blamed - but that still leaves him with the not-so-small problem that "uptown" means "Park Avenue" which also means "Avengers Tower", and, well. Bruce doesn't particularly want to do this in Avengers Tower. Not only would that mean taking an elevator up about twenty floors, but there's also a decent chance of running into any or all of his teammates, and he definitely cannot deal with them when he's like this. Nevermind bringing a stranger home - they'd go nuts.

So he has about ten minutes to figure out a reasonable alternative. With his concentration spilt between figuring that out and working his hand eagerly over Frank's erection, it's not exactly easy. They're about five blocks away when a memory lights up in Bruce's brain, and he says quickly:]

Take the next right. Go to the Waldorf. [Tony being Tony, he'd made standing reservations at hotels across the city. Bruce never really had reason to take advantage of them, but now he was planning to cash in on it. If he were of sound mind he'd be thinking about how ridiculous this sounded - going through a heat with a stranger in one of the fanciest, most expensive hotels in the city - but his brain was otherwise occupied, mostly with thoughts of getting Frank's dick out of his pants.]

[The moment they walk in everyone would know why with how intensely Bruce is radiating his rut to the world. He's sure it wouldn't be the first time but the thought is amusing and terrible at once. The last thing Frank needs is more attention. Does he have a choice?]

The Waldorf? [He almost sounds amused but heads that way regardless.] Shit, I hope you're paying.

[Pulling up to the fancy hotel, Frank reaches in the glove box for a worn cap, putting it on as if it makes a difference at all. It's worked before. He ignores valet parking in favor of finding a spot himself and then slides his hand over Bruce's, reluctantly pulling it away.] Let's go.

[Maybe it's not the greatest plan he's ever had, but what else can they do? By the time they find a parking spot and climb out of the truck Bruce is having trouble keeping himself upright. Now that Frank has accepted his advances, it's becoming more and more difficult not to just grab at him and tear his clothes off - not unlike the mob from earlier.

Bruce manages to control himself, though, and he takes the lead. The air inside the hotel is crisp and clean, but as soon as he walks into the lobby heads start to turn - there's no doubt that his pheromones are twice as sharp now. He keeps his eyes trained on the front desk, ignoring how disheveled he must look, and when he gets there he speaks quickly and quietly.]

The Presidential Suite, please. It should be booked under Tony Stark's name.

[The concierge gives him an odd look, but Bruce extracts his wallet and hands over a card, and in a few moments they're being ushered towards the elevator. Replacing his wallet, Bruce tries to ignore the embarrassment burning in his gut and keeps his eyes on the floor. He's not trying to brag or name-drop; he just wants to get somewhere private as quickly as possible, and Tony tends to be helpful when it comes to that.

Of course, today of all days is the day the elevator decides to take forever.]

[Frank keeps an eye out for any suspicious activity or people who may be triggered by the walking time bomb that just strolled into the lobby. He doesn't realize part of it is his own instinctive urge to protect at this rate, the man he agreed to help clearly weakened by his rut. It's also instinct to not want anyone to touch him anymore.

He gives Bruce an odd look as well at the mention of Tony Stark and even more so once they're in the elevator. They aren't alone yet so he keeps his hands to himself, but the second they're let into the huge room and given the key to their personal elevator, the moment the hotel staff member is gone, Frank loses it. He doesn't even take a second glance at the fancy-as-fuck place before dropping his hat and coat and reaching for Bruce, easily managing to press him to the nearest wall and finally get his lips on him.]

[Even with his eyes down, Bruce can feel the way Frank's looking at him. If the mention of Tony bothers him at all, though, he doesn't say anything, and for that Bruce is grateful. Sharing the elevator is the most frustrating part of the day thus far - in such a small space, every scent becomes ten times stronger, and the almost-but-not-quite-privacy almost drives him mad.

Bruce is two heartbeats behind when Frank finally closes in on him, and it's all he can do to keep himself standing - even then, that's mostly thanks to the strength and force of Frank's body pressing him against the wall. Finally being able to touch him properly is enough to draw a moan from Bruce's throat, and his still-shaky fingers grab desperately at Frank's clothing, wanting to feel as much of his skin as possible. He tastes of coffee and oil and something bitter that Bruce can't quite place, something dangerous, and all of it together leaves him breathless and weak.]

[It's a huge relief for him as well, even if not as intense as what Bruce is currently experiencing. Still, it's the heat of another body and the scent of him so close and tangible enough to taste is all driving Frank forward, and it doesn't take long for wandering hands to join in on the exploration. Who knows how long Bruce has actually been this... well, horny?

Frank's hands slip under his ruined shirt and just opt to tear it off the rest of the way. Sorry, shirt. It was torn up to begin with and easy to push away now, giving him enough skin to touch and roam over with large hands, stirring a half sigh, half moan of his own.]

You alright? [He still has to ask, even now, when the world is temporarily closed in on this one tiny space between them.]

[The strength inherent in Frank's body is matched in his hands, which feel rough and calloused against Bruce's softer skin. If his mind wasn't so inflamed by his heat, he would wonder what Frank does for a living. There's no room for that right now, though, not when there's finally someone who will take care of him, who will deal with the burning he feels all over.

Hearing his shirt being ripped makes Bruce whimper, and his submissive side comes out full-force in response. He tilts his head back against the wall, baring himself for Frank, offering himself up as one would a sacrifice at an altar.]

Better than ever. [His response is quick; he doesn't have much energy left when it comes to stringing sentences together. Reaching forward, his fingers fumble with the button and zipper of Frank's jeans; despite their shakiness, it only takes a moment for them to deal with the pesky things, and soon he's tugging the denim down over Frank's hips.] Just don't stop.

[There is really no going back from here and Frank has succumbed to his fate gladly, the heat more intense than doubt at this point. He promised he'd help and it would be a shitty thing to do to back out now. So as Bruce's head tilts back Frank easily finds his neck with lips and small scrapes of his teeth, his own hands now fumbling with the belt and zipper of Bruce's pants to treat them the same. A quick maneuvering has his shoes and pants kicked off, and with one more brief moment away Frank manages to take off the last of his clothing too, shirt following the other pieces of clothing to the floor.

One sweep up the length of his body and Frank is pleased, albeit sympathetic for the state of the man's arousal. It almost looks painful at this rate.]

Christ. [It's all he can think to say before Frank is on him again, bodies now pressed together skin to skin, mouth yet again finding the other's neck to kiss and suck while grinding his hips forward, the slickness of Bruce's arousal making it easier and more satisfying to push forward and press him harder against the wall.]

[There's not much Bruce can do except moan and whimper as Frank presses his lips to Bruce's neck. The skin there is hot and overly sensitive, and the scratch of teeth and stubble hits right on the most primal urges in Bruce's brain. There's no doubt left in his mind that he wants Frank to fuck him, to keep fucking him until his heat has been taken care of.

When his clothes come off the cool air leaves Bruce hissing slightly, but soon enough Frank is on him again, and oh his body feels incredible, all hard lines and muscle and scars from who knows what. The grinding of their hips is almost too much to handle, and Bruce thinks faintly that they might make a permanent dent in the wall from how hard he's being pressed against it. Not that he cares, of course. The only thing that matters is making sure he gets as close to Frank as possible.]

Please, [he begs, though for what he can't say. There are a million desires shooting through his veins and he can't decide which he wants first. His fingers find their way to Frank's hips and he tugs him closer, nails digging into the skin there. Somehow, it seems that the only way to deal with the way he's burning up is to produce even more heat with the friction of their bodies.]

[The nails on his hips urge on the kind of desperation Frank finds incredibly attractive right now. His teeth press harder into Bruce's skin in response and despite how good the grinding feels, he knows they both need more, Bruce especially. It's a good thing he's still of (mostly) sound mind, enough to stop and drag his hands down Bruce's hips and thighs until he can pick him up easily.]

We need a fucking bed.

[Is all he says before stepping over their clothes and heading for the nearest room - nope, bathroom - and then the next, the place bigger than he realized. There's more than one bedroom but he just picks the first one he can find, stepping in and immediately tossing Bruce down onto the bed.]

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