Author's Note: I do not own anything besides the plot I've come up for this fanfiction. Potential readers, have in mind that this is going to be sexually intense. Not that I don't like other pairs, but in this piece, I am shipping strictly one pair and one pair only: Percy Jackson and Steve Rogers. The fantasy has been plaguing my mind for a while, and I thought I should perhaps write it all down to ease my mind.

As you read, it will become obvious that I am not an expert writer in spy/action genre. Many things, you'll find, are going to seem somewhat forced or impossible. Please have in mind that this is fanfiction, after all.
I hope *at least* some of you will enjoy it as much as I do.

I.

Percy Jackson was annoyed. Captain and his team, which included Percy, better known nowadays as Agent Jackson, had chased after this crew of very illegal drug dealers for many months. Now, sitting on the top of the roof of the gang's headquarters, they were so close to catching them red-handed in a drug deal, to finally catching the boss, the most manipulative and sliest man on earth, Abraão Erosa. In Percy's very personal opinion, the team should have blitzed in ten minutes ago when Erosa and the Californian, who was supposedly a CEO of a pharmaceutical company, shook hands and sat down, but Captain's hand was still fisted and in the air, meaning it was not the time yet.

Through the crack between the seams, Percy could see Erosa grinning wickedly as the CEO signed some kind of contract embossed with gold around the edges. Receiving it, Erosa himself signed the empty line beside the CEO's signature, and the two men, not standing, shook hands again. There was a deep inhale from his side, and Percy watched with glee as Captain finally unfisted his hand and flicked it forward. It was finally go-time.

In seconds, one of the finest teams ever to have trained under SHIELD dropped into the old barn and surrounded the suspects, guns out and pointed at all targets. There could be only little struggle for the members of the Rosa Podrida gang and the guards that the pharmaceutical CEO had brought since no one had been armed. That was one reason why the SHIELD team could ensue attack readily. They had collected an intel that there was a non-violence agreement between the two groups for the contract signing because they wished to form an alliance that will last in peace, supposedly.

Abraão Erosa himself was not very fazed at the situation, or at least appeared not to, as he always was in a situation like this, but Percy caught a drop of sweat trickling down the side of the man's face - which only he could notice, being the son of Poseidon, and he smiled. Yeah, that's right, you son of a bitch. We got you this time, Erosa, he thought, still smiling, we got you for good. Meanwhile, on the side, the Californian CEO was yelling and resisting the restraining hands of the SHIELD agents. "You can't do this! Do you know who I am? I'll sue YOU!" Scowling at the man's absolutely inelegant gestures, Percy shook his head. Some people really could not handle themselves in public very well. He heard Marcus mutter "yeah, yeah, sure" as he cuffed the man down. Percy could tell from Marcus' face and that of the other agents that once the whole cuffing process was done, they would all return home and sleep for at least 12 hours straight. They were all worn out from the long chase. To finally see it end was very much a wish-come-true.

Once the Californian crew were all cuffed and placed in the van, Percy and the agents more busily moved to usher the Rosa Podrida men into surrender as well. At the nod of their boss, the burly men admitted defeat and were easily led away. It all seemed to end according to the team's plan. Percy raised his head after he cuffed one man and looked around with pride, his chest lighter than ever. However, at that moment, he saw a movement from Erosa, whose eyes were fixed on the SHIELD's most capable captain.

"Captain! Watch out!" Percy shouted, his body already moving.

Captain, noticing a projectile flying his way, began to move, but it was too late. Percy jumped toward the man's direction just in time to get between the flying object and him and fell as his left shoulder erupt in heated pain. "Aagh!" He quickly looked down and saw that what had hit him was a syringe. Captain and his team mates, except those who were now shoving Erosa down to the floor, came running to him, and someone pulled out the syringe. Seeing that most of its liquid was still in the container, Percy sighed somewhat in relief. Captain rushed to Percy's side and held his body, inspecting the wound.

"It should be fine, Captain. Besides the puncture wound, I'm not in any pain. It looks like whatever was in that thing didn't even get inside my system, really." Percy tried, but Captain was not having any of it.

"Don't be foolish, Jackson. Any amount could have been a lethal dose." Then he stood and turned toward the drug lord who was now squished almost comically on the ground. "What did you put in the syringe? If it's poison, you'd better have an antidote for it, Erosa, or you're going down, even worse than you can imagine."

The lord of Rosa Podrida, however, only chuckled with heavy breaths. "Why so serious, Steve? I was only playing. It's a perfectly harmless supplement solution. Test him all you want, but he'll be fine." The now beaten up man looked up, an evil glint in his eyes. "He'll be very fine." Then he dropped his head again. "That is, if someone takes him to bed."

II.

"What?" Steve Rogers exclaimed, exasperated by the man's constant play on words. "How can we believe you?"

But then, one of his agents shouted behind him, "Captain! Jackson's unconscious!"

Steve's head spun as he saw Agent Jackson, eyes closed, motionless. He looked back at Abraão Erosa, gritting his teeth. "You'd better be right there's nothing wrong with him." He walked toward his team. "Call the medic! Marcus, move Jackson to the base. Rest of you, let's move! We need to send these bastards to Washington."

The medic, Pete Bare, if Steve remembered correctly, exited the tent with a quizzical look.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked.

"Nothing," said the medic, his face as confused as Steve's, "there's nothing wrong with him. No poison, no toxic, no nothing. His sodium level is higher than normal, but it's not problematic. It looks like Erosa was telling the truth. Like he said, at this point, all that Jackson needs is just a good night's sleep."

Steve clenched his jaw. "Erosa never tells straight truth. There was something in that syringe. Otherwise, why would he throw it at me?" He sighed and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. "We'll have to watch over Jackson. But thanks, Agent Bare."

He turned to a couple of agents who remained to assist Agent Jackson. "Alright, team, let's go home." He glanced back at the tent before returning his gaze at the agents. "Jackson's still unconscious. Does anyone know Jackson's home address?"

Stopping his car at the red light, Steve placed his gaze on the sleeping and muttering man next to him in the passenger's seat. As the light turned green, Steve drove the car into his neighborhood, muttering incredulously, "Nobody really knows his address?" He had contacted other agents beside the ones that had been with him in California, but no one knew Agent Jackson's address or any other contact information. At the medic's advice (or insistence)- that Jackson is only sleeping and therefore does not need to be processed in the infirmary - there was no other way for Steve but to bring the agent with him to his house. After all, Agent Jackson had jumped in to save Steve. He owed the agent some responsibility.

Still, weary and stressed from sleepless nights in operation, Steve felt that he reserved the right to complain, just a little, to himself mostly, about the situation. He pulled into his garage, parked, and got out of the car, heading toward the passenger's seat to pull the agent out. When he opened the door on the passenger's side, however, Agent Jackson had opened his eyes (albeit only slightly), and, squinting, he mumbled, "Captain?"

"Yes, Jackson," Steve crouched down, "how are you feeling?"

Agent Jackson shuddered, "Um, hot, hot in, inside, and cold, uh, on the outside. Where, where am I?"

Worried, Steve placed a hand on Jackson's arm, which caused the agent to shudder more and thereby intensifying Steve's concern. "You're at my house. I couldn't find where you live, and the medics were not letting you in the infirmary so I brought you here. Do you think you can stand?"

Jackson, closing his eyes again, shook his head slightly. Sweat had formed, and his hair, now soaked, stuck to his forehead. Frowning, Steve slid his arms below the agent (leading to another prolonged shudder by Jackson) and carried him inside. Remembering how Jackson became unwell - to possibly save his life - Steve decided to let Jackson sleep in his bed. He had a convertible futon in the living room he could use himself. So he carried Jackson all the way into the master bedroom and laid him on the bed. The young man was now shivering and hugging himself tightly, moaning quietly. Steve leaned toward him, placing his hand on Jackson's forehead, only to lift it quickly in surprise. It was as if it was on fire.

"Jackson, Jackson! Can you hear me?" Steve shook the man slightly, grabbing onto his shoulders. Percy moaned more loudly, and his eyes opened widely. His breaths were ragged. He looked into Steve's eyes, tearful. "Cap, Captain, please. Please."

"Please, what? Jackson, you're sweating all over. We need to change you into something else." Steve let go of Jackson's shoulders while he shook his head in frustration and muttered, "That medic. To think Erosa was telling the truth! Of course, there's going to be something wrong!" But before he could fully stand up, he was grabbed by the arm and pulled back down to the bed, his face landing very near to the other man's face.

"Captain…" Agent Jackson breathed out.

Then Steve smelled it. Something like flower, or honey, or something in between, he couldn't tell, but it was sweet and mouthwatering. He could feel himself inching toward the source of the enticing scent and his eyes slowly losing focus, but he could not stop himself or control himself at all. He could only move instinctively toward that something he so desperately wished to take a bite of. Then his nose touched something soft, where the trail of the scent ended, it. Before he could stop himself, Steve opened his mouth and swiftly but gently nipped at what had drawn him so deliciously.

The moment his lips touched, a loud moan rang in his ear, and, startled, Steve pulled back. His eyes regained sight, and he realized, in horror, that he had just kissed Agent Jackson's neck. The raven-haired man's eyes were half closed, but it was clear that their deep sea green orbs were clouded by something, something dark. His skin shone under the fluorescent light, his cheeks flushed, and his lips, the lower one of which he was biting, glistened with moisture. His breaths were short, and little whine-like noises escaped through his lips.

His previous horror vanished, Steve, just stared, mesmerized. The sweet, candied scent was still around him, seeming to envelop him wholly, and his senses began to go numb as his body simply itched to near the man before him. Alarm was going off somewhere in his mind, buzzing, but when the agent let out a small whisper of "please" again, he was diving in once more, like a wild animal.

He immediately sucked on the man's neck, relishing in its divine taste, and in a short moment, he had taken the man's shirt off and was trailing his lips down the torso. He could hear an equally delicious sound of moans near him and enjoyed how it responded to the every move of his lips and tongue (sometimes teeth). He soon found one of the nipples and, licking it once with his tongue, began to suck hard on it. Moans grew louder and louder as Steve busied his mouth over the man's body. Soon, however, two hands grasped his face on both sides and pulled him up. His face was brought less than an inch away from Jackson's, and the two looked into each other forever long seconds until they smashed their lips together. It was a fast and fierce kiss, their lips constantly interlocking in different angles and their tongues tangling together. At some point, without ceasing to kiss, Steve had taken off his shirt. The two men now lied in bed, their chests bare, the contact only fueling their lust, as their hands desperately traced each other's naked skin through all of its ridges and valleys.

Steve let out a groan as he felt his groin hardening. He instinctively rubbed his against Jackson's and felt it hard against him as well. The action caused the younger man to cry out "Steve!" in elation, which reached Steve's ears like hymnal music. Upon hearing his name, which was never once used by the agent before, Steve lost his last strand of self-restraint, and, removing their pants with animal-like speed, he slid in his member, already wet with pre-come, into the other man. It was an animalistic move, almost, as Steve have never experienced a same-sex intercourse, or ever imagined having one, but with ease he was able to fit the whole of his phallus inside, at which point, Jackson let out another loud, sweet moan.

Being inside him was hot, wet, and soft. Different sensations washed over Steve, one after another, and he bit his lip to not let himself groan too loudly, or come too quickly. Jackson was tight around him, which made it very difficult for him to control himself, but he began to move, slowly at first but faster and faster after each stroke. Hands gripped onto him, fingertips boring into his back, and Steve leaned in again to catch Jackson's lips that had already begun to swell from the earlier kiss. He thoroughly examined every inch of the other man's mouth with his tongue, and his desire flared on as he felt Jackson's moans vibrating through the kiss.

When Steve hit a certain spot and pushed in more deeply than before without even realizing that he did, the kiss broke, and Jackson arched his body upward, his eyes wide, mouth letting out the most sinful noise of ecstasy. Startled at first, Steve quickly realized what he had inadvertently discovered and, grinning, began to pound at the spot, soon filling the whole room with only the sounds of pleasure.

III.

Steve opened his eyes as the heat of the morning sun became too much to ignore. As he slowly regained his senses, he noticed that he was not alone in his bed and that he was not wearing anything. Staying completely still, he moved his eyes to the side to where he felt the weight of another people on his shoulder. He could see a mop of black hair shining in the sunlight, and memories of the night before began to flood back to him.

God, he thought.

He was not sure what it was that drove him to engage in such activity. It was as if he was in a trance, or perhaps hypnotized, and he could not help himself doing what he did. The same heavenly scent he had smelled was still around them, but it was much lighter, thinner than before. Following where it became stronger, he turned to see the sleeping man beside him. Again, he was not sure, but it seemed that somehow Agent Jackson had begun to shed some irresistible scent and it had driven him to become…

Refusing to continue his thought, Steve quietly got out of the bed, careful not to wake up the agent. Strangely, he could feel that his body was lighter, less burdened, and, rolling his head around, Steve went inside the bath room. He took a quick shower, and before leaving the bedroom, pulled out some clothes for Jackson to wear. He stopped midway as he noticed the red marks he had left on the agent's body. He felt his cheeks getting heated and hurriedly exited the room. He entered the kitchen and instantly began brewing coffee and preparing breakfast, doing his best to be as silent as possible. He did not want to wake up the other man. His thoughts on the situation were still not quite decided. He had a number of factors to consider. Why he became so… instinctive could be contributed to Agent Jackson's scent, but then that begged the question, how did Jackson come to smell that way, and why was Jackson so… Steve let out a dry cough as the image of the man's flushed face resurfaced, along with the moans, Please...Steve, Steve!

Steve felt heat rushing to his cheeks again but also to elsewhere below. Ashamed, he shook his head and tried to focus on grilling some bacon on the pan. Agent Jackson was… very receptive last night, which meant one of two things. Either the man was "gay," or he was also under an influence of something as Steve was (of the scent). As Agent Jackson rarely shared his private life with others (as he had realized once more last night when no one knew where the agent lived or who to call on his behalf), Steve did not know much about the man, but he vaguely remembered the agent mentioning having a girlfriend in the past. Perhaps he had heard wrong, but if he did hear correctly, then it meant that Jackson was most likely behaving such way under an influence, which could not be fair -

There was a noise of a door opening and closing, and Steve froze in place. Minutes later, he heard the shower turned on and water falling. His shoulders stayed tense as the reality of the situation became much nearer. What was he to tell Jackson? What would Jackson tell him? There was much to be said, but he was so very reluctant. His hands, in place of his malfunctioning mind, began to move more quickly, flipping bacon and placing slices of bread in the toaster. Soon, too soon for Steve, there was another noise of the door opening and closing, and Steve's super serum senses could already sense the whiff of that scent from the bedroom. His ears picked up hesitant footsteps behind him.

"Good… morning, Captain."