Chapter Twenty-Five – I Knew You'd Come For Me

Bon Jovi – I'll Be There For You

Brock stripped out of his filthy clothes, dumping them atop Jemma's. He'd deal with the lot later. Right now he just wanted to get under that warm water spray with her, wash them both clean of the horrors they'd been through. Get rid of any lingering traces of Rollins' scent on her.

Jemma moved over as Brock joined her in the shower stall. It was bigger than the one at the cabin, but not by all that much, and his broad shoulders still took up much of the space. He didn't let her go far, though, catching her around the waist and dragging her against him. She lifted her hands, set them on his shoulders and smiled up at him.

"I knew you'd come for me, you know," she told him softly.

"I only wish I could have gotten there sooner," Brock murmured, stroking her back tenderly. Neither of them noticed that the water ran pink as the blood rinsed off his hands. "Jemma – I want to complete the bond. If we'd completed it before, I'd have known where to find you, I'd have been after you so damn fast…"

"Yes," was all she said, before standing on tiptoe and reaching up to kiss him.

"But…"

"Don't try and argue me out of it," she cut him off firmly. "You want this, I want this – I don't want to ever be without you again, Brock. Not ever." Her hazel eyes were vulnerable as she gazed up at him, and as usual he realised he could deny her nothing. Especially not when one of her hands slipped down between them and wrapped around his rapidly stiffening cock.

He could only stand that for a few moments before pulling free of her hands and grasping them with his own. "None of that right now, Jemma. Here, let's get cleaned up." He released one of her hands, reached for the shower gel, let out a grunt as her hand went straight back to his arousal. "Jemma!"

She grinned teasingly up at him. "Am I being a bad girl again, Brock?"

"Always. Nnnggaahh," he let out a strangled sound, pulled her hand off him again and spun her around quickly, one powerful arm tightening around her waist. "My very, very bad girl," he whispered hotly in her ear, and Jemma shuddered and went limp against him, her head falling back against his shoulder.

"Brock," she moaned throatily and he smiled, nipping lightly at her neck.

"That's it. Be good for me. Gonna take care of you, baby girl – wash you all clean and give you everything you need." He poured soap into his hand, lathered it up and began to stroke it into her body slowly, thoroughly washing every trace of scent but his own off her. She gasped and spread her legs when he stroked slowly up her inner thighs, and he smiled, turned her around and knelt before her.

"Put your leg over my shoulder, Jemma," he ordered softly, and she obeyed, moaning his name again as he pressed his face against her, stroking her clit with his tongue and suckling on it until she was shuddering, her fingers clenching convulsively in his hair.

His scent was rising around her, muted by the falling water, but it still maddened Jemma to the point where she could think of nothing but Brock, of having him inside her.

"Please," she whimpered, trying to pull his head back. "Please, Brock, need you to fuck me, need you so badly. Please."

She felt him smile against her and then he eased her leg off his shoulder and stood up, grasping her bottom in his big hands and lifting her easily, pushing her back against the wall as he entered her. She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, and as he slid slowly in they both gasped, because as the mark on her leg met the mark on his ass the sensation was indescribable.

He could feel her. She was right there, deep in his mind, her pleasure his own as he slid home, deep inside her welcoming heat, pinning her slight body up against the shower wall. And then she raked her nails down his back and he cried out, arching to pump deeper still.

"Brock!" Jemma almost screamed his name as he sped up, pushing her hard and fast up towards orgasm, her slight weight nothing to his strength as he handled her body easily, tilting her back to get the best angle, rubbing the tip of his cock over her G-spot with every long stroke. She could feel his building ecstasy, the passionate love he felt for her – she'd know it even without the bond, the look of devotion on his face as he made love to her was so intense.

"Yes, oh God, Jemma, yes," Brock gritted out. It was like the most incredible, intense feedback loop – her building ecstasy fed his own, and vice versa. He was so close, but so was she, he could tell – and then she clenched around him like a tight, wet silken fist and he was gone, utterly destroyed as her climax triggered his own. He took her mouth in a greedy, fierce kiss, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he came so hard he thought his brain might explode.

Jemma's cries were like the sweetest music in his ears, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as she clung to him, breasts pressed against his chest, slight shudders wracking her body as she rode out the rolling waves of orgasm.

At last he lifted her off him, lowered her to her feet and held her while she steadied her shaking knees. "Better get out of this shower," he murmured at last, "I'm sure we've used more than our quota of hot water."

Jemma smiled, rinsed herself quickly. "Well, we did double up."

Brock laughed, shutting off the water. "That we did, baby girl." It was the oddest sensation. He could feel her satisfaction; it was like there was a small, previously unused corner of his mind that she'd taken over. Even if they were apart, he realised he'd know how she was feeling. He reached for a towel, wrapped it tenderly around her – and almost staggered as the wave of love she felt for him hit him.

"Brock?" Jemma said a little uncertainly. He looked so shocked, and that tiny part of her brain where she could feel him now – and wasn't that interesting, was there actually a part of the brain that had been shown to produce different signals when a soulbond was created? She'd have to read up on it – could tell that he was shocked, surprised and a little awed.

"You love me," he said, absolutely stunned.

"Well, yes, of course I do." She cocked her head at him. "Did you doubt it? You did doubt it, oh Brock," She reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist, felt his come around her in a tight hug. "It's not just about the soulbond, for me," she whispered softly. "I've been falling in love with you from the very first moment, I think. When it hurt you so to bruise me, to even pretend to hurt me. I could see that you hated every minute of it, because it wasn't done to please me."

He pressed his face against her hair. "I don't deserve you."

"Tough, you're stuck with me now," she said pithily.

"I really think you've got that backwards, beautiful girl." He kissed her forehead, reached for a towel for himself. "Come on, we've probably defiled Coulson's quarters quite enough. Let's get decent and go downstairs to that cupboard of a room of yours so I can ravish you some more."

"Oh, I am very much on board with that idea," Jemma said enthusiastically, reaching for her clothes.

"Hmmm." He watched her dress, unable to concentrate on anything else with her in front of him like that, sliding thin silky pink panties up her slender legs and then putting on a matching bra. "I am the luckiest bastard on the planet."

Jemma looked around, saw him watching her. He was gorgeous, all thick muscle and olive skin, crisp black hair on his chest tapering to a fine happy trail down the centre of his six-pack. Black hair sleek with water, he looked darkly dangerous – and utterly sexy. She licked her lips.

"You need to stop looking at me like that or I'm gonna be bending you over that couch," he said gruffly. And then had to grit his teeth against the awareness that she very much liked that idea, even though she blushed and looked away.

"Okay, we really need to get this under control," he muttered, "because if you're thinkin' that way, baby girl, it's gonna be really hard for me to restrain myself."

Jemma pulled her trousers up, not looking at him. "It's very hard for me not to think that way with you standing there all muscly and gorgeous."

He grinned, grabbing a shirt and pulling it over his head. "I like the way you see me, baby girl."

"Seriously?" buttoning her blouse, she turned to look at him, shaking her head. "You're the kind of guy who women are always going to look at."

Brock snorted. "Jemma, surely it's more than obvious by now that you've got no reason to be jealous?"

She ducked her head, feeling a bit foolish. He came over, buttoning his pants, took her shoulders in his hands, and told her the truth.

"I love you. I'd have fallen in love with you even if we weren't soulmates, as if I'd ever have had even the slightest chance with you…"

She looked up at him with a radiant smile. "Oh, you'd have had a chance. Remember that day at the Hub? I wanted you to come after me."

Brock slid a hand into her hair at the nape of her neck, tipped her head back and took her mouth in a hot, hungry kiss. Jemma's hands slid up his chest, wound around his neck.

"I love you," she whispered back to him between kisses, and he chuckled softly in his throat.

"Let's get out of here and you can show me how much."

She smiled and reluctantly let go, watched as he scooped their filthy clothes off the bathroom floor and stuffed them into his tac bag.

"Can't leave those there for Coulson to find, I'll get rid of them later," he murmured, and then offered Jemma his hand. She slipped hers into it gladly.

They found Natasha waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. She inclined her head slightly to Jemma before meeting Rumlow's eyes.

"I take it we're not going to have the same issue should such a situation ever recur?" she said, a little obliquely, but Brock could guess well enough what she meant.

"It won't recur." His hand tightened on Jemma's. "But no. It wouldn't be an issue."

"Good." Natasha gave him a half-smile, slid her eyes over Jemma again. "Good luck to you both," she said quietly, sincerely. "It's not always easy, but it's always worth it." She looked over her shoulder to where Clint was perched on the back of a couch, talking to Sam and Fitz. He seemed to sense her glance, looked up and smiled at her.

"I know you two often have to be apart," Brock said impulsively, "how the hell do you manage?" He tapped his head, trying to get his meaning across. How do you manage the feelings that come through the bond, when surely separation creates so much sorrow?

Natasha smiled a little sadly. "You just have to have faith. This," she tapped her head too, "it does get a little easier, with time. Becomes more like background noise, as you get used to it, though it's almost impossible to tune out completely." She grinned wickedly. "There are reasons why there are special allowances for soulmates in the weeks after forming a new bond, though. Believe me, none of us expect much sense out of either of you for about a month."

Jemma blushed, tried to hide her face behind Brock's arm. He only grinned and wrapped his arm around her. "Then you'll excuse us if we don't join the company."

"No one expects you to." Natasha chucked softly as he pulled Jemma away towards the cubicles.

Only Fitz looked a little wistful as he saw them go. But the expression on Jemma's face as she looked up at her soulmate was so blissfully happy, he could never begrudge the best friend he'd ever had that joy. He sighed, finally letting go of the hope he'd held for so long that she might return his feelings for her. He'd known all along that she had a soulmark, of course, he'd just thought that if she never met her other half – well, it was time to put all that behind him. He smiled with an effort as Sam Wilson asked him a question about the invisibility cloaking mechanism on the Bus and the quinjets.

"It's probably too big to scale down to your wings. Though it's a very interesting idea."

Coulson nodded to himself, watching Fitz. That had been a potential complication, but Fitz was smart, and resilient. He obviously recognised that trying to compete with Rumlow in any way for Jemma's affections was a lost cause.

With a rather relieved sigh, he glanced across the lounge – to where Hunter was watching Tony flirt with Bobbi with an angry look on his face. Oh dear. Better go break that up before Hunter starts something. He spotted, too, Skye and Bucky staring at each other. And wasn't THAT going to be a complication. Well, at least it would give Skye one person who cared about her unconditionally. And someone who was dangerous enough to deal with her father and Ward when they came looking for her – as they surely would.

Coulson found a smile coming to his lips as he realised he was quite looking forward to that confrontation. Skye was no longer the lost, vulnerable girl she'd been just a few short months ago. She was a force to be reckoned with now, confident in her power. And with the Winter Soldier by her side – she might just be unstoppable.