Most societies have certain mores that are unspoken rules; humanity itself even has such conventions, grilled subconsciously into our minds for our own safety. Don't go out alone at night. Avoid getting wet when it's cold. Don't pick fights with those stronger than you...okay, some of us missed the boat on the last one, but the point still stands. Society's rules tend to be more variable, though they apply to most aspects of life - including sex. In fact, bending the rules on what's considered acceptable in romance and sexual encounters can lead to anything from ostracization to death, depending on the time and culture.
So, play it close to the chest if you're going to do a big, big, big t a b o o. Is it worth the risk?
How to Play
- Comment with your character and preferences. Be sure to include what you want and what you DON'T WANT. Blank comments are fine; info is even better!
- Reply to others.
- Be fun and respect others, as this will deal with some heavy topics and potentially triggering material s.
Prompts
A G E ( DIFFERENCE ) - light of my life, fire of my loins. you're supposed to stick to those your own age, but you can't resist.
I N C E S T - you're of the same blood, yet something draws you together. you'll keep your secret thicker than water.
C H E A T I N G - when you were young, they should have taught you to not take things that belong to other people.
I N ( PUBLIC ) - to involve unsuspecting others in your sex is insidious, but you can't resist it.
S U P E R F L U O U S - some conservative societies view sex outside procreational purposes as taboo. that means anal, oral, and toys are all no-go.
F I X A T I O N - you're nearly obsessed with one part of your partner - breasts, ass, lips...whatever the case may be, you always focus on that.
D E V I A N C Y ( IN SUBURBIA ) - there are some things that should be sacred. the home should be one of those. should.
S I Z E - pick on someone your own size. couples with large size difference, be it height or weight, can be looked down upon; don't let that get you down.
P H O B I A - unfortunately, in some societies, being with someone of the same gender is a taboo, no matter how much progress the modern world has made.
F E T I S H - some just can't get off without their fetish, and the varieties run the gamut: feet, crossdressing, autoerotic asphyxiation, foodplay, bondage...it goes on and on.
U N E X P E C T E D ( DOMINATION/SUBMISSION ) - the masculine must be dominant. the feminine must be submissive. what if you're dominant in life, though, and just want to be submissive in the bedroom.
V I O L E N T - more than mere lover's spats, what goes on between you two is dangerous. if people knew, they'd be horrified. still, you can't stop.
F O R B I D D E N ( LOVE ) - your relationship may be taboo, but there's genuine love in your copulation. this isn't merely a thrill.
L O O S E - monogamy isn't what you're after. no matter how looked down upon it is, you're going to have fun while you can.
S T U D E N T / T E A C H E R - what goes on between the sheets is not an appropriate subject matter to teach. there's so much to lose; is it a smart game to play?
A U T H O R I T Y - perhaps they're the boss, the president, the king, but you, you're a lowly peon. are they using their powers over you or is this something you both want?
I N T E R S P E C I E S - kind finds kind, and don't you be a traitor by being with one of them.
B E S T I A L I T Y - one of the most primal taboos. will you go into that moral wilderness?
S O C I A L ( CLASS ) - the rich. the poor. it's like they're in two different worlds. what will the uppercrust say if they saw their golden child with a tramp?
C E L I B A C Y - you are supposed to keep your chastity, but things are never that easy.
S T O C K H O L M - prisoners should never fall for their guards.
D U T I E S - whether it be saving the world or being the world's best bodyguard, your sworn quest and purpose keeps you from enjoying the sins of the flesh - especially with your charges.
I N N O C E N C E - one of you is much more worldly, and to ruin the "innocence" of the other feels unclean.
F E R T I L E - you aren't supposed to find mothers or fathers sexually alluring. however, there's something so enticing about fertility...perhaps even pregnancy.
C O R R U P T I O N - society expects you to treat your partner well, not try to destroy them through sexual degradation.
N O N C O N S E N S U A L - consent is rightfully important to a healthy sexual relationship. to break that trust is taboo. |
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baitings) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2025-06-23 06:27 am
no subject
Because now Rumlow's rough - really rough - as he hauls him up to his feet by the hair. Scalp screaming, he can't bite back the startled grunt of open pain, his hand groping to wrap his fingers around Rumlow's wrist as if he can relieve the pressure...but even half-blinded by pain he doesn't squeeze flesh to bone. Doesn't really try to defend himself. The problem with only having one arm is James is a lot easier to manhandle, his hips slamming forward into the sink hard enough that a jolt of white hot agony explodes when his own cock gets pinned with his own body before he could stop himself with the arm he doesn't have anymore.
Dazed, bent over the sink hard enough that he's almost able to kiss stainless steel, he doesn't put up a fight when Rumlow exposes his ass to the kitchen and its open window. The sweatpants jerk down around his calves, drawing them together like flimsy restraints. James has just enough time to squirm futility, his hand dropping to splay against the sink, before Rumlow gets down to business.
James cries out when Rumlow rams his spit-slicked fingers into his ass with absolutely zero preparation or mercy. It drives James to surge forward, crushing his own dick against the counter out of some animal instinct to escape. He ends up gasping into the sink's basin, cheek pressed hard against the stainless steel as he squeezes his eyes shut, involuntary tears brimming.
It's hard to speak with Rumlow's fingers jammed up him, his own cock pinned. Moaning, his exposed thighs clench as if he's trying to force out the intrusion.
"Y-you're right!" James isn't even sure what he's saying. It's like going on some kind of autopilot. "You're right, you're right," he whines into the sink.
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At least James is still animated in this way too, struggling and squirming, gasping and moaning. Maybe this is better for them after all. It's order and pain. It's a good baseline for this shitty experiment.
"I asked you-" He punctuates with another rough pull of hair, fingers still sliding in and out of him. "If this is what you wanted."
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James struggles to focus on the question. "...I don't..."
Squeezing his eyes shut, lashes glimmering, his mouth works silently for a moment while he struggles for the words. If it wasn't for the involuntary tears starting up James might've even looked like the Winter Soldier again with his ass up in the air and his hair grabbed to control his head - but the Soldier rarely cries these days and it didn't take much for Rumlow to force out the beginnings of tears with "James". It takes longer than it normally would for James to concentrate past Rumlow's fingers driving into his ass, feeling too tight, the quivering hole too small to accommodate him.
"I...I don't know!" he gasps. "Please."
He isn't sure what he's begging for. Doesn't know what he wants. Dizzy with pain, James struggles from where Rumlow has him good and pinned, still instinctively trying to get escape, to relieve his tortured neck. He manages to get his right hand flattened against the sink, his knees banging against the cabinet doors underneath the sink for leverage. Now he's blindly trying to push back from the sink, not even thinking about the fact that Rumlow clearly wanted him bent over for ease of access.
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It's just the precursor for more words, but they get stuck in Rumlow's head anyway. They get stuck there in a weird, twisted way-- this feels bad. Made worse by the glint of those heavy tears forming on a wildly panicked face. Rumlow isn't the type to feel bad, or feel guilt- he has his way with his Soldier every chance he gets. But this?
This god damn deep cover is working miracles, apparently.
James tries to push back against him and Rumlow lets go of his hair, pulls his fingers out of his ass. He lets up, stepping back to give James the room he needs to untrap himself from the sink and cabinets below.
Maybe after this- James won't even want to be his anymore. He feels sick.
"Fuck this," he growls out, yanking his pants up harshly, tucking himself in his underwear but leaving his pants open. "I'm gonna go jerk myself off. Clean yourself up."
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Stunned and off balance, James sags against the sink with a rattling gasp and it takes a few long seconds before he's able to push himself away, almost falling back against the counter when he almost trips on his sweatpants still tugged down around his calves. Jerking them up, hissing as he drags the waistband against his throbbing cock, he wheels around to face Rumlow. A few tears have tracked down his face by now, cutting a path through the sticky layer of Rumlow's pre that he'd painted on his face like a mask just a few minutes ago.
Something wars in James as he stands there with his shoulders rounded in pain, sore, shaking, his neck and cock and back still pulsing with residing pain. He needs to clean himself because he's a mess and he's still a guest in Rumlow's house. Unable to resist the new order tugging at his subconscious, the most he can do is just delay it for a few minutes as he steps closer toward Rumlow, suddenly aware of how dirty he must be.
" - wait!" James doesn't block Rumlow, but he does reach out to grip his bicep, running his hand up and down the muscle. "I'm sorry. This was all on me, I thought..." His voice is still shaky with pain but he's already feeling better and he doesn't want them to end up on opposite sides of the house, all pissed and aroused, and it's just the first day together. "I just didn't want you to treat me differently because of the arm thing. Didn't want to be some pity project." His palm stills on the crook of Rumlow's elbow. "Let me do it. Suck you off. Jerk you off: whatever you want. Please?"
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Good. That's how he wanted it.
And- that's exactly what James is doing now, isn't it. He's shaky, tears sliding down his face as he tries to pull his sweats up, but he's still reaching out to Rumlow to stop him from going anywhere. But the words are absurd and James is so... he's so real. Maybe too real. Rumlow doesn't want to feel things. He prides himself on being able to shove feelings and emotions far away. Get the job done with precision. This is really fucking with his vibe.
"You think I give a shit about your arm? You think I'm the kinda guy who hands out pity? No. Whatever this is..." He waves a hand at James- this crying, guilt tripping, emotional shit. "I don't want it."
slight timeskip
"...okay, sure," he says softly. "I'll get cleaned up then."
Christ, he really fucked up, didn't he? Rumlow doesn't want him. He's always wanted him. But now Rumlow's upset, pissed enough to not even want a blowjob despite how painfully hard he must be, and that means the direct order from earlier wraps around his mind like a leash and pulls...and this time James doesn't try to fight it in some subconscious attempt to protect his handler. He releases Rumlow's elbow, his hand dropping to his side, jaw clenched as he turns and obediently heads to the bathroom without another word.
A few minutes later, the door closes and there's the sound of running water, James figuring out the shower configuration without the usual guards to handle everything for him or the collar to chain him to the floor. It'll give Rumlow time to recover, do whatever he needs to around the house now that he doesn't have an emotional human-sized distraction all up in his business. The bugs and the cameras planted all around the kitchen will have caught every sound, every angle of what just happened - and didn't happen - in the room.
Rumlow's order means that James doesn't shut down as soon as he's out of sight. Not at first. He makes it into the shower, gets cleaned up, toweled off, and he even locates the clean pair of boxers and the shirt that Rumlow set out for him. Gets dressed. Exits the shower.
Instead of shutting down immediately out there in the hall, James makes it to the guestroom/office. He sits on the edge of the bed, stares out the window, frowning, and that's about as far as he makes it before he goes on standby. Waiting for the next order to bring him alive, for his handler's presence and the gravelly rasp of his voice to give him purpose and meaning.
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He feels shitty, and he'll let himself stew in it. It feels painful, but maybe that'll clear his head. He drags his fingers back and forth along his shoulder instead, where the fresh bite mark from yesterday is still healing. He'd rather feel that right now, than whatever the hell this is.
He can hear the shower on in the upstairs bathroom- the Soldier- James, following his orders. At least there's some comfort in that. While that goes on, Rumlow goes to unpack what's in his bag, then James's things, setting them in the guest room. He's in and out before James can even catch him there, heading back downstairs to try and figure out what the fuck to do.
He doesn't want to think.
When he doesn't want to think, he does two things. One of them is currently his issue. The other is cleaning out his guns, so he takes them all out and sets them on the living room coffee table and starts cleaning them out, step by step, as meticulous as ever. By the time he's done, he feels a little more like himself again.
It's quiet up there, and he knows it's because he's not around James. Deactivated. He has half a mind to just leave him like that for the rest of the day, completely lifeless. HYDRA needs Rumlow testing this though. Not sitting around because he can't handle it. No. He can fucking handle it.
He packs his guns away and heads up the stairs, dragging his fingers along his shoulder again, then crosses his arms as he leans against the doorway of James's room. You're a real fucking boy again, James, Rumlow thinks to himself.
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Sitting staring forward at the window and past, out into nothing, James doesn't come back to life until he registers the sound of his handler's specific footsteps coming to a stop. The sound of Rumlow's quiet breathing, the rustle of his clothes when he rests his shoulder against the doorframe: together they trigger something in the Soldier's programming, unlock something lodged into his mind so that he revives and gives himself a little shake, blinks, and the shadows outside suddenly jump so that they're now at an angle and there's the soft golden glow of the afternoon sun slowly sinking in the sky.
Shifting on the bed, he almost doesn't want to turn to face Rumlow. Maybe he'd like to just...he doesn't know, stay sitting here watching the sunset once it arrives and the sky blooms with rosy pinks and deepening purples and he wouldn't have to think about whatever the hell just happened in the kitchen. About how he treated Rumlow - his friend, his host, his caretaker. But there's still that tug, that need to attend to his handler, and after a few seconds, James loses the fight to keep avoiding eye contact.
He turns on the bed, twisting at the hip so he can glance over his shoulder. Rumlow's leaning up against the door with his arms folded, staring at him with this look he can't identify. Can't tell if he's neutral or pissed or maybe he's already over it and moved on because he's better at compartmentalizing.
Unsure which it is, James swallows softly. "Hey." He almost leaves it at that but then, because he has to know: "We good?"
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It almost takes a little too long for James to look at him, but Rumlow doesn't care.
"Yeah, we're good." It doesn't need to be anything more than that. Shit happened, now it's over. They're sure as hell not going to talk about it. "I was thinkin' about ordering some food. What do you want?"
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Rumlow's too good for him, he thinks. "Pizza. Or Chinese," James says, unaware he's only copying what he heard the techs talking about over his head when he was sitting restrained and drooling in the suppression chair just a few hours ago, and they were preparing to reprogram him for this deep cover assignment. "Whatever's good around here."
Look, he's not picky and he just hopes they can eat together instead of staying apart. Whatever Rumlow ends up ordering, he's sure it'll be fine - better than the hospital food and there won't be anything questionable like the carrot cake, and anyway, Rumlow probably knows the area better than he does.
With that in mind James gets to his feet, pushing himself off the mattress and casting one last look out the window at the afternoon outside, the glints of distant cars traveling along the road winding along the foothills, before he faces Rumlow, telling himself he's just checking to make sure he's really good and unaware he's sizing up his handler, waiting for new orders.
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Or Rumlow will have to control him. That sits easier.
James gets up to stand in front of him, and Rumlow sighs, tilting his as he looks at him. He doesn't have an order for every part of the day. They're just supposed to function here like two regular guys. Maybe that's an order he has to give.
James is looking at him so expectantly, he figures he might as well say it all while he's got a chance. "We're stayin' here for a little while, so- you might as well settle in. Make yourself at home and all. Feel free to just... be around. But don't you to ever try and pull that shit with me again, you got it? I do something cause I wanna do it. Not cause I feel bad, not cause'a some pity party. It's what I want. So if I wanna caress my hand through your hair like you're my goddamn girlfriend, then that's how it's gonna be. And if I wanna choke you with my dick till you're drooling on the floor, that's also how it's gonna be. Understood?"
There's no anger in it, no annoyance. Just a handler reminding his pet who he is.
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James listens, as always, and he'll comply, as always, to the new ground rules. Settle in. Be around (the house/Rumlow - then revert back to standby whenever he's no longer near either). As Rumlow speaks James stands there absorbing it all in, his face almost back to its usual blankness except for the awareness in those blue eyes currently fixed on his handler's face, hungrily searching for hints of approval. He seems to get it when Rumlow finishes up with a colorful description of how things will be in his house, lurid enough that he almost starts blushing because now he's picturing himself on the floor, drool edging down the corners of his mouth with Rumlow towering over him.
He's already nodding, a silent, big yes to all of the above. It'll always be a yes with James, because he's physically and mentally incapable of ever saying no to a handler.
"Understood, boss," James even mimics crossing his heart, fighting off the urge to grin in relief. "Sounds plenty fair to me. Do we have time for that last one before dinner arrives or should we put a pin in it for later?"
Okay, so now he's already failing at playing it cool because a tentative smile's already snuck onto his face. If Rumlow's still talking about touching him - whether it's romantic like caressing him or more of what he expects, the whole stuffing him with his cock until he's dazed and confused - then things really are cool between them and he can breathe easy. If doing what he says is all he's asking in return for crashing here, eating up his time and resources and stressing him out, then it seems like Rumlow's practically giving him a freebie.
James vows to be the best house guest ever to suck this man's dick.
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The suggestion of still sucking him off after all that- so goddamn eagerly- it makes Rumlow huff out a soft, surprised laugh. He's not sure why he's surprised, but it's nice that he gets to be. "We've got time. I haven't even called yet."
Rumlow pulls out his phone and leans back against the door frame, but before James can get down on his knees, he reaches out to run his finger's through the other man's hair. "C'mere."
He wants to see just how thoroughly his message is getting through, but also to see if James will still kiss him on his own like before.
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Touched, James reaches up, fingers circling around Rumlow's wrist before he can call just yet. Leaning down slightly, not quite pinning the older man to the doorway, he presses his lips against Rumlow's, the kiss soft but hungry and seeking something only he can provide. His tongue teases against his mouth, hints of wet warmth almost seeming to request access if only Rumlow's lips would part for him.
Rumlow has a nice cock. More than nice - a great cock. But maybe James likes kissing him like this too because it's pretty damn neat if you ask him and he's eager to show him that it wasn't a mistake inviting him into his home, into his life. The thought of how grateful he is to have this man edges out a needy moan washing against Rumlow's mouth.
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...It's what he tells himself anyway, even if his gaze is stuck on the man in front of him.
The kiss is exactly what he wants it to be. It's slow, but hungry and desperate for more. Rumlow obliges, parting his lips to let him in, leaning in a little more to press into that kiss possessively. His phone slides back in his pocket so he can put his hand on James, cupping his ass for a moment, then dragging up to the small of his back, under his shirt, just holding him there.
That moan is enough to get his cock stirring again, and like a redo of earlier, he rocks his hips slowly against James, rather liking the fact that he's the one who is nearly pinned, but always the one in control.
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His own hand slips down Rumlow's hand, following his forearm and elbow and gliding up along the firmness of his shoulder so he can cradle the back of the other man's head, fingers rubbing against the short crop of his hair where he'd used a razor. He explores his mouth with the heat of his tongue, leisurely, with a new appreciation for what he could've lost if Rumlow hadn't been chill enough to let today's fight(?) go. Gratefulness wells in James, makes him deepen the kiss.
Or maybe that's Rumlow's groin rubbing against his, the press of his bulge through his pants beyond tempting.
His hips roll back into Rumlow's heat, his breath hitching as he breaks the kiss and nips softly at the corner of the other man's mouth. "Thanks," James whispers huskily and means it, his tongue gliding to trace Rumlow's lips. "For always being there for me."
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It's easy to do both those things when James rolls his hips back, pulling a moan from him that gets swallowed up into their kiss. James is so eager, so compliant, but follows his own path to get there. How the hell is he not supposed to be into that?
And then without any kind of order at all, James thanks him- just like Rumlow had told him to do more times than he can remember. It's there on his lips, how grateful he is that Rumlow is giving him this.
Rumlow wants to claim him again. Not just the Soldier, but James.
"I always will be," Rumlow rasps out, leaning in to nip at James's lower lip before sucking it into his mouth, "You're mine. Now get down on your knees and thank me properly."
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Flashing a smile giddy with relief at Rumlow, he sneaks one last kiss - more of a soft peck, really - and then he'll lower himself in front of Rumlow where he's still pressed up against the doorframe, the older man's dark eyes fixed on him with a familiar want that has James blushing a little as if it's his first time in this position.
Palming along his hardening bulge, massaging his fingers against the curl of his shaft hinted by the fabric of his straining pants, James carefully undoes his fly. Not easy one-handed. That's where he gets creative, leaning forward to delicately catch the metal of the zipper's pull tab between his teeth and edge it down by lowering his head, his other hand holding Rumlow's waist pinned against the door. This time he won't fuck it up. He'll give Rumlow the blowjob he deserves, the one he absolutely needs after today's bullshit, and he'll keep his mouth shut instead of airing out any doubts like dirty laundry.
Fondling Rumlow free of his underwear, carefully helping him so his shaft and balls hang out over the fabric edged down, James dives back into worshipping his cock now that he's on his knees where he belongs. Lips kiss along the shaft, alternating between dragging his tongue against its pulsing heat so he can trace it from head to base, curling a wet trail around his groin.
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"Mmm... yeah," Rumlow breathes out as James tugs his zipper down with his teeth. It's different, and he likes it, just as he told the other just earlier.
When his cock and balls are free of his underwear, he rests back against the wall a little more lazily, letting his hips just out, closer to James' face. He slides a hand through his hair, fingers curling to hold on- not a caress, but not a tug either. Just laying in wait as James' mouth teases more hardness into him.
What a mouth it is, kissing and licking at him so expertly. Rumlow lets out another satisfied moan. "That's right, sweetheart. You know what I like."
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James tries to repay him by making he licks all of his waiting cock and balls his mouth parted, his tongue out as he lathes glistening trails along the other man's sensitive skin, feeling the pulse of his growing erection under the slick muscle. When it weeps, he makes sure to let its slit rub against his face and against his closed eyelashes, as if to reapply the pre that Rumlow had painted just a few hours ago on him like he was marking him as his property.
Sweeping his tongue along the throbbing underside of his erection, James opens his lips wider once he reaches his head to curl his tongue around his shaft and coax it into his waiting mouth. He starts slow. Gradually accepting more and more of his girth until he's finally got his lips wrapped around his base, holding the position, feeling his gag reflex wanting to resurface and fighting it off. Rumlow's hand against the back of his head is a comforting weight, a reminder that he still wants him, still wants to touch him.
Waiting to see if Rumlow will caress or pull his hair or maybe he just wants to remind him he could, James begins to slowly pump his head, his tongue wrapping around the heat of the shaft stuffed in his mouth, eyes half-shut with lust until there's only a glimmer of pale blue through his dark lashes.
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His cock throbs as James licks at him, pressing his tongue against all the sensitive spots, knowing exactly where they are and what gets Rumlow going. There's something to be said for being with a lover consistently, though that's far from what this really is, even if only he knows it. Nothing wrong with pretending though, is there.
Not hard to do so when James marks himself for Rumlow, precum swiped across his face in a way that tells him James wants to belong to him just as much.
He lets out an appreciative sound, fingers tightening their hold in James' hair as his mouth closes around him, and he watches his cock slowly disappear between those swollen, pink lips. Without any prompting at all, James fills his mouth up completely, and Rumlow rocks his hips forward to get himself a little bit deeper, holding his head there to see if he'll gag on it.
"Good boy," Rumlow murmurs, letting up, but his fingers stay tight in his hair as James starts to suck so expertly, and he can feel the last bit of tension leaving him as he keeps at it. "That's right, suck me down all the way. Don't forget to make those pretty little sounds I like to hear."
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Rumlow's rigid with desire in his mouth. Throbbing with it, pulse of blood apparent along the underside of his shaft as his tongue presses and caresses against it. James doesn't smile when he's told he's good, that Rumlow's in a good enough mood that he's letting him do this. It's a second chance, really - one he doesn't intend to waste. With his skin and lashes sticky with his precum, James continues to suck the other man off, tilting his head as he dips down to take as much as he can - all he can - and a moan vibrates along Rumlow from all angles.
His hand adjusts itself from where he'd been gripping against Rumlow's side, thumb fitted in the V of his waist. Head still dutifully bumping, jaw aching, James slides his hand up Rumlow's shirt to massage against the firm muscle of his stomach, the curve of his chest to palm at his nipple, gently tweaking and rolling the bud between finger and thumb
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It's the pinch of his nipple that gets Rumlow's head to fall back against the door frame, all these smaller decisions to touch him, to make him feel good, they all come from James' head. It feels like that different kind of thing he was trying to capture earlier. James wants this, needs it, needs him.
That tongue works diligently to hit every sensitive spot, and Rumlow decides he should be rewarded for that. For all of this, really. His fingers curl tightly in James's hair now, and when Rumlow's cock hits the back of his throat, he thrusts in a little deeper, then holds his head there, wanting him to choke on his cock. He did promise tears, didn't he? This kinds, he doesn't mind.
This is Rumlow telling James that he knows he surely won't break. "Oh yeah, there you go. God, you're so fucking good at taking it all in."
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So he doesn't try to pull away even as he chokes and his tongue ripples and surges desperately against Rumlow filling him and his nose gets crushed against his groin with enough force that he can't suck in much air. His moans take on a different tone, a desperately pathetic hitch of what little breath he can get.
But Rumlow's right: he's good and he doesn't break. He can take it, because he can always take it, again and again and again, for however long Rumlow wants.
James can't stop the wet heat brimming against his sticky lashes, though. It's involuntary, coaxed out as he gurgles for air and for relief from his jaw stretched to the point where pain radiates out in dizzying waves. A few tears edge past to slide in shining trails down his cheeks and along the edge of his jaw even as he obediently holds the position, doesn't try to jerk his head away or tighten his hand against Rumlow's chest, underneath the rough cotton of his black shirt, where he's still rolling his hardening nipple between his hand. If he pinches a little harder than before, sends a jolt into his chest, well, maybe that's something they need to work on the next time he's struggling for air.
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