Where The Line Is

Summary: During Captain America: Winter Soldier, a triple agent realises where the line is that they won’t cross
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers up to and including Captain America: Winter Soldier; AU; some violence; sexual situations between two men; crude language
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow

###

The press of the HYDRA agents who surrounded him made him feel trapped…suffocated. It really didn’t help that they were all in the elevator. All surrounding one man. Well, more than a man. Steve Rogers. Captain America. The First Avenger. As a child, growing up, he’d always been Brock’s hero…and when the man had been thawed out of ice and they’d begun working on missions together, Brock’s admiration for him had blossomed into a full-blown crush.

And now, HYDRA was making its move. And Brock needed to go along with it…go along with the agents that surrounded him. Because if he didn’t, then everything would be for nothing. He’d blow his cover and destroy years of hard work.

“Before we begin,” Steve said, his voice slow and even, “Does anyone want to step out?”

There was silence. For maybe half a second.

Then one of the agents made his move. And the whole elevator exploded with violence. Each of the agents was trying to kill Steve, who fought back with his shield, fists and feet, knocking the agents to the ground; some of them with injuries that left them knocked out cold.

And then it was just the two of them, standing and conscious, staring at each other from across opposite sides of the elevator. For a moment, just a moment, time stood still. Brock was standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering on the edge of a monumental decision.

“Why are you hesitating?” Steve asked. “Don’t you have your orders?”

Brock tore his eyes from the Captain, his gaze moving over the unconscious HYDRA agents that were piled around them. He breathed in deep, closed his eyes and gave a sharp shake of his head. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I can’t do it, Cap. I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes widened; just a little, but it was a reaction. He glanced at the door of the elevator, tensing as the floor numbers counted further and further down. Then, he crossed the floor and grabbed Brock by the shoulder. “Are you coming with me? Or are you staying here?”

He only had a split second to decide. Only a second…and yet, he’d already made his decision. Hadn’t he? He could have attacked Steve with the others. Could have attacked him now. But he didn’t. He felt Steve’s tight grip on his shoulder. He looked into the other man’s face. And he swallowed and spoke the words in a low, hoarse voice…giving away more of himself than he’d ever intended to. “With you, Cap.”

Steve nodded and then turned, breaking the glass wall to the outside in a matter of seconds. “Get on my back,” he ordered.

With one last final look behind him, at what he was leaving behind, Brock followed through with his decision. He lurched forward, wrapping his arms and legs around Steve, clinging to the other man like he was a spider monkey. He wasn’t a small man, by any means, but Steve didn’t seem to even feel his weight as he jumped out of the hole he’d made in the wall.

When Steve landed on the ground, the shockwave reverberated up Brock’s legs, through the rest of his body. He swallowed and hid his face against Steve’s shoulder, then flushed as he felt the other man’s body vibrate with his chuckle. “I’m not used to landing without something like a rope or harness to keep me secure,” he muttered into Steve’s shoulder.

Instead of answering with words, Steve reached a hand back and squeezed one of Brock’s legs. “I’m getting my bike. You stay here.”

Brock scrambled off Steve’s back and watched as the other man headed back into the building. He could feel the indentation of Steve’s fingers in his leg. The touch hadn’t hurt, but it hadn’t been gentle, either. Possessive. Was that the correct term? His hand went to the gun, tucked in its holster at his belt, and he took a wavering step forward.

If Steve couldn’t get out in time….

As soon as that thought went through Brock’s mind, a motorbike revved and came bursting out of the building. It stopped next to Brock and Steve was handing him a helmet. “Put it on.”

Brock settled the helmet in place and then sat on the motorbike, settling in behind Steve and wrapping his arms tight around the other man’s waist. And not a moment too soon, as a glance back over his shoulder revealed pursuers racing out of the building, both on foot and in vehicles.

“Hold on tight,” Steve directed, before setting the bike to full speed.

Brock clung to him, because there was nothing else he could do. He rested his head against Steve’s back and let himself put his trust entirely in Captain America as they weaved in and out between buildings, through the city, trying to shake off their pursuers.

By the time Steve stopped, they’d left the city and their pursuers behind. The motorbike came to a halt on the side of a deserted road and for a few moments, there was silence save for the sound of both of them breathing.

Brock could feel Steve’s hard muscles against his chest. He could smell the musky scent that hung around the other man. And their close proximity was making a certain part of his body react; to stir in response to the closeness of the other man. He took a deep breath, but that didn’t help calm his body’s reactions to Steve. “What are we going to do now, Cap?”

Steve was silent for a few seconds and then twisted round to look at Brock. He pulled off his helmet and said, simply, “Come with me.” He didn’t wait for a response before he climbed off the motorbike. As soon as Brock clambered off the bike as well, Steve grabbed the bike and began to carry it from the road.

Brock cast a look around, just to make sure they were still alone, before he followed Steve off the side of the road. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“A safehouse.”

“You have a safehouse?” Brock continued walking alongside Steve, sneaking glances at the other man. They weren’t pressed together any longer, but that didn’t mean Brock’s member was behaving once again. “I assume that you kept it a secret from the rest of SHIELD.”

“It’s not my safehouse,” Steve replied. “Nat told me to come here, if I ever needed to. If I ever needed to escape.” He paused. “She never told me if she suspected something rotten at SHIELD’s core, but this was where she told me to meet her if anything ever happened.”

Brock lapsed into silence as Steve led the way, across soft, muddy ground and through a twisted, winding walkway that, by the time they reached the end of it, left Brock with scratches covering the patches of bare skin that showed.

Finally, though, they reached a small house. A hut, really, appearing to be more of a small, crude park ranger’s base than a safe house. It was surrounded on all sides by thorny bushes and ivy crawled up the sides and over the windows.

“It looks deserted,” Brock murmured. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“About as certain as I can be.” Steve placed the motorbike on the ground and then turned to Brock. He took two steps forward, into Brock’s personal space, and then grabbed his shirt, fisting the material in both hands. He yanked Brock forward, until they were almost nose to nose. “Why did you come with me?”

The hold didn’t hurt, but it did send all of his blood rushing to his groin. Brock managed to avoid letting out a groan as he stared into Steve’s eyes and spoke in a low tone. “I’ve been working as a triple agent. D…Director Fury asked me to spy on HYDRA. To pass on the information to him.” His voice faltered. “Fury’s dead now, though. Isn’t he? So you have no reason to believe or trust me.”

Steve’s grip tightened on Brock’s shirt, almost to the point of pain. He didn’t say anything, though. Instead, he pulled Brock over to the motorbike and pushed him down, bending him over the seat.

Brock breathed in deep as he felt himself held easily in place. He moved only to place his hands on the ground, so that he wouldn’t fall forward onto his face. Still, Steve’s actions…when the other man slapped his hand down on his backside…made him jump and hiss, the sudden sharp pain so completely unexpected.

Steve paused and Brock felt the other man’s hand rubbing at his bottom; rubbing at the spot he’d just smacked. Unable to help himself, he moaned softly and then hissed out a sharp breath as a second and third smack landed, each one delivered in a different spot on his backside.

When Brock’s entire backside was stinging, Steve paused and began to rub away the sting. “Where does your loyalty lie now, Brock?” he demanded.

“With you.” Brock hissed out the answer, forcing his body to relax…to submit. “I should have…kept my cover. I didn’t,” he admitted, voice growing hoarse. “I chose to come with you. Taking you out…was a line I wasn’t prepared to cross.”

There was silence from Steve, but he returned to smacking Brock’s backside, his other hand pushing Brock down across the motorbike.

The stinging rapidly grew into a burning sensation and Brock felt tears fill his eyes and spill over his cheeks. “Cap, please,” he fought to get out. “I’m sorry I was lying to you! But I’m not now,” he promised. “I’m not lying to you now.”

Steve paused and resumed rubbing Brock’s bottom. The rubbing didn’t really soothe the burn, but it was comforting in its own way. “And how can I believe you’re telling me the truth now?”

In spite of himself, Brock couldn’t stop himself from snorting in response. “I’m not fighting what you’re doing to me. I know you’re stronger than me, so much stronger than me, but you have to see that I’m submitting to you and not fighting you.”

“I’ve seen it.” Steve rubbed Brock’s bottom a bit more and then tugged his pants down. “But I know that you’ve been more than willing to play whatever role you need to so you can get what you need. Whatever you need. How do I know you didn’t just switch up your game to get close to me and make you trust me?”

Brock took in a deep breath and tried not to panic at the cool air that wafted across his backside. There were two ways that this could go…and he was certain that, no matter how pissed Steve might be at him, one of those ways was something that Steve would never do. Brock was fairly certain that, if he fought back, he wouldn’t even be spanked. If he resisted or protested, he knew Steve wouldn’t force him to accept it.

But he wasn’t going to fight it. He wasn’t going to protest. Because he truly believed he deserved this. And Fury was dead, which meant that maybe his plans had died with him…and where was Brock now? If his handler was gone and no one else knew what his true mission had been….

So lost inside his own mind, inside his own pain, Brock only became aware of the fact he was sobbing when he felt Steve’s arms wrap around him, pulling him up from the motorbike and hugging him; tight enough that it nearly hurt, but the contact was welcome.

Brock wrapped his arms tightly around Steve and tried to force himself to stop crying. “I couldn’t betray you, Cap, even if it was all pretend,” he whispered, when he could talk without breaking into sobs. “That was a line I couldn’t bring myself to cross.”

In answer, Steve’s embrace tightened and his hand moved a bit lower, rubbing gently over Brock’s sore, stinging bottom, soothing away the hurt. “I’m making the decision to trust you, Brock. Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t,” Brock promised, before groaning at the soothing touch to his backside. “God, Cap. You keep touching me like that, I’m gonna pounce you.”

Steve smiled and leaned forward, pressing a deep kiss to Brock’s lips before he moved them back over to the motorbike. He lifted Brock into his arms and Brock responded by wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist, only letting out a quiet whimper when he was pinned across the bike, his whole body splayed out to Steve’s touch and gaze.

Positioning himself above Brock, leaning his knees on either side of the bike, Steve leaned down and kissed his lips, hard, then ran his hands down Brock’s sides, grasping his hips. “No more lying. No more pretending.”

“No more,” Brock agreed. “You can trust me, Cap. I promise. I won’t let you down,” he promised.

“I believe you.” Steve squeezed Brock’s hips, tight enough to leave the imprints of his fingers in the skin. “You’re my agent now.”

Brock breathed in deep and let his body fall fully open, giving himself entirely to the other man. “Yours now,” he agreed. And then he closed his eyes and just let himself surrender to Steve.

The End