Rumlow has this thing about marking him. Bites against his lip, hickeys against the crook of his neck, slaps so hard against the back of his thighs and his ass that he'll sport blotchy red spots almost looking like handprints; stuff like that. So it isn't a surprise when he gazes up at him through his lashes and the man reaches down and the first thing he does is rub the slick of his precum against his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

It's getting sticky as he pumps his head and Rumlow meets him in the middle. So far he's being surprisingly gentle; his fingers haven't tightened against his scalp even though he's got a handful of his hair and he hasn't tried to shove in all the way so he'll start coughing and gagging. It suddenly occurs to James while he's got a mouthful of the other man's dick that maybe, just maybe he's going easy on him because he's still recovering from the whole losing an arm thing. Maybe even Rumlow's treating him like he's made of glass.

The idea's so bizarre that he reluctantly tears himself away from Rumlow's cock, his mouth sliding free with a faint pop of suction and spit flecking his swollen lips as he suddenly frowns up at the other man. Still on his knees like a supplicant, the heat of that straining shaft resting against his cheek where he can easily shift his head sideways and invite it back into his mouth, James peers up at Rumlow through the smears of his precum growing tacky against his face.

"Hey," he says quietly, hoping he's not making it weird but...well, it already feels weird that Rumlow of all people's getting soft on him. " I'm not gonna break. Only thing that's changed is this." He pats the metal socket gleaming chrome where his shoulder used to be."You can go hard. Like usual."

As he speaks, he's already turning his head, lips parting, tongue curling out so he can coax Rumlow's erection back where it belongs.