A response to the Captain America LJ kink meme.

Prompt: Movie!verse. Steve and Skull are both supersoldiers in their own right, both with super strength/stamina etc. Both have found it difficult to get what they need from mere humans; Cap for fear of causing damage, Skull for tiring of the same old non-con struggle and/or ruining his henchmen, both for the sheer intimidation factor that comes with their respective territories.

What I'm after: Cap is lured to the HYDRA base by Bucky's capture, and after rescuing him Steve is cornered by Skull (who decided not to depart just yet or something). Bucky escapes, Steve and Skull fight, and on realising they are equally matched, a hint of respect emerges followed by the enjoyment of having a proper fight with a worthy opponent. Hot fight devolves into the best sex either of them has had since becoming enhanced by their respective serum.

Dub-con elements, rough fucking, not completely removing much clothing, both fighting (and getting a chance) to top, but mostly just the heat of battle going a bit further than intended... once its all over everything returns to normal, the base explodes, Steve is a hero, and both supersoldiers are fulfilled at least for the time being...

Warnings: Dubious consent, mindfuckery, bloodplay, rough fight sex.

The Fight

'Captain America.'

Tearing the last of Bucky's restraints free of the examination table, Steve Rogers froze as an unfamiliar and measured German accent suddenly filled the room from behind him, slowly pronouncing his pseudonym as if tasting each syllable.

'I suspected I would find you here. You could not leave your Sergeant Barnes behind now could you?'

He didn't need to look at the man standing in the doorway to know that he was not another of Hydra's mere lackeys; Bucky's slack, fear-stricken gaze and sudden grip on his arm gave more of a warning than he ever needed. Giving his friend the most reassuring look he could muster and looping one arm under his for support, Steve helped Bucky off the table and turned to face the Hydra commander himself, Johann Schmidt, from across the small laboratory.

He was taller than Rogers anticipated, and decidedly less Aryan than what the bureau's blurry file photographs had suggested, with dark eyes that seemed to smoulder even at this distance. Steve felt Bucky shrink against him as Schmidt stepped forward into the room, smirking, his leather uniform creaking as he rested his arms behind his back.

'Did you enjoy your little rescue attempt, hmm? Charging you way through my men? Look at you, and with barely a scratch.'

Those disconcerting eyes traversed Steve's body from his muddy bootheels to the little wings painted on his cowled helmet, and the captain shivered with something akin to disgust.

'I'm not done yet,' he answered, his voice defiant as he shifted his grip under Bucky's arms to take more of his weight, silently indicating his intentions.

'Of course, of course,' Schmidt chuckled softly, and stepping to one side he motioned towards the now unobstructed exit with one gloved hand, an almost pleasant smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Steve frowned, the unexpected move throwing him. From where he stood the man seemed to be unarmed, but even so, and from what Rogers gathered from his own experience, that certainly didn't mean unprepared. He glanced down at Bucky, who was mercifully standing more or less on his own now. A tiny twitch of a shrug along his friend's shoulders only fuelled his indecision, his eyes darting from Schmidt to the open door. The commander waved his outstretched hand impatiently, his smile beginning to strain.

Taking a hold of Bucky once more Steve took a tentative step forward, a step that was matched by Schmidt as his beckoning hand turned to point directly at the smaller sergeant.

'Him,' Schmidt barked, all traces of his spurious smile evaporating as his eyes met the captain's, 'not you.'

Steve's grip on his friend tightened but Bucky only straightened up and pushed himself away, nodding in a kind of mock salute as their eyes met. Fear, pride, and something deeper, carefully concealed behind the guise of brotherly affection passed between the two men. The exchange was not lost on the commander.

Turning away, Bucky drew himself up and made for the laboratory door and once passed Schmidt, he dashed over the threshold and down the corridor without a second glance, his boots echoing after him.

For a horrible moment, Rogers thought Schmidt had intended to go after the sergeant as he turned sharply on his heel and moved to the heavy metal door, but he instead closed it firmly, bolting it into place. Steve breathed.

'Interesting,' Schmidt began, shifting again to face the captain, a smirk twisting his features once more as he made his way to the centre of the room, 'how quickly your lover flees when given the opportunity.'

A sudden betraying flush blossomed across Steve's cheekbones, beyond the reach of his cowl. He grit his teeth.

'He knows I can beat you, that's all.'

Schmidt was close now, and at that he stopped advancing and instead arched one sharp eyebrow. The room was silent but for the sporadic shouts and gunshots to be heard from outside the complex.

'Oh you can, can you?'

The left hook caught him directly on the jaw with such force that he stumbled back, another winding him with a blow to his sternum before he had a chance to regroup. Gasping, Steve leapt aside as Schmidt lunged again, taking the opportunity then to grab hold of the commander's leathers and, using his own momentum, slam him into the examination table.

In the span of a blink the German was on his feet again, but Rogers was ready for him as he surged forward with another powerful swing, teeth bared, blocking a frenzy of shots until both had a hold of each other, grappling with fists full of their rival's respective uniform.

Steve couldn't remember a time since his enhancement when anyone he fought had put up a decent fight. He was too strong, too fast, and had outmatched every opponent he'd come up against. But now, with Schmidt's fists tangled in the star emblazoned on his front, his hot breath on his face, with every feint and sudden pull to throw him off balance, it dawned on him that here was a supersoldier in his own right, infinitely evil and yet, someone against whom he could finally test himself, and Erskine's genius.

With a grunt, Schmidt threw him sideways until he connected with the laboratory wall before pressing his advantage, slamming the captain backwards into the brick hard enough that his helmet left a cracked indent.

'Beat me, will you?' Schmidt breathed, lips curling into an arrogant grin.
Steve struggled. They were face to face, close enough that he could make out the small lines around the commander's eyes, smell his sweat mixed with subtle cologne, and notice what appeared to be thick red scars running from Schmidt's earlobes to disappear below his collar. But above all was the unnatural heat that emanated from his enemy, a burning that reached him through Schmidt's linen and leather and his own combat gloves, making his skin crawl.

With a shout and a tremendous shove he forced Schmidt backwards and released his leather lapels, took a measured step forward and planted a front kick solidly into Schmidt's chest. On the recoil he dealt a fierce uppercut, crashing into the commander's cheekbone hard enough to shatter any normal man's skull.

Schmidt staggered back a step clutching his face, and Steve paused in his next swing as he was met with a truly unexpected sight. Instead of a crushed cheek or jaw as he anticipated, Schmidt's entire face seemed off-kilter; his dark eyes glowing fiercely out of drooping eyelids, the blood red flesh of his eye sockets visible underneath skin that had certainly shifted.

Steve lowered his fist as Schmidt chuckled darkly, amused by the young captain's look of abject horror.

'They didn't tell you, did they?' he sneered, unbuttoning his collar and reaching inside.

'They told me it went wrong. That you were an abomination.'

'Ha!' Schmidt barked, 'An abomination? That may be true Captain, but as you now see, we are one and the same!'

Steve watched as Schmidt's hand emerged from inside his shirt, pulling upwards what he now realised was an intricate mask of his own face. Underneath, red flesh remained, his face now nothing but a skull; a hole where his nose should be, his scalp hairless, his cheeks and temples hollow and all over the unending redness, a crimson death's head.

'Red Skull...' Rogers breathed.

'Correct! You see even I have my own pseudonym to match,' Schmidt tossed aside his empty mask and held Steve's gaze, 'Captain America, and the Red Skull, Erskine's finest here at last.'

At the sound of his old mentor's name being spat from those horrible red lips, Rogers snapped and surged forward, blindly raining blows on any bodypart that his fists could reach. And they fought, supersoldier against supersoldier, shouting and grappling, lashing out with iron fists and boots that would have already laid ordinary men to rest, each testing their own limits with reckless abandon.

Steve was ashamed at how good it felt. He couldn't count how many Hydra men he had silenced with a single blow to the head, how many times he had injured a friend during a sparring session. As he landed a particularly powerful kidney shot, his face flushed as he thought of Bucky, how tightly he had to restrain himself when his friend crept through the silent barracks and into his tent under the cover of darkness. He could never admit, but as much as he loved his best friend, he just couldn't give Steve what he needed anymore.

A moment's distraction amongst his thoughts cost him dearly, and again Rogers found himself thrown backwards against the redbrick laboratory wall by a fierce right hook and slicing uppercut. Skull surged forward, locking his forearm against the captain's throat and effectively choking him, before forcing one knee forward and pressing his body firmly against his gasping rival.

He had intended to suffocate Captain Rogers there and then, but it took the Red Skull seconds to reconsider as his thigh, wedged between the captain's, contacted with something unmistakable. Giving an experimental push forward and up only confirmed his suspicions as Rogers groaned and struggled more vigorously, his mortification plain in the bright red flush spreading from beneath his cowl and tinting his neck.

'So it seems,' Skull drawled, his free hand reaching up to strip off the cowled helmet and leaning forward to speak directly into Steve's ear, covering the captain's entire body with his own, 'that you do enjoy a good fist fight.'

Gasping for air, Steve kicked and struggled against the weight bearing down on him and the impossible heat seeping through to his skin wherever the German's body touched his, knowing that every word that Red Skull said was true, but hating his own betrayal no less.

'No I understand, I do,' Skull continued as Rogers gurgled and spat in an attempt to retort, 'you think I do not tire of ruining my own men, good men too? How long has it been, Captain?'

Steve's eyes watered, feeling sick to his stomach as he shifted himself against Skull's burning thigh. He couldn't think, only met his enemy's smouldering gaze, and trickled into that hollow, crimson face an anger so passionate it frightened even himself. Skull's leer only deepened.

'Your sergeant,' he murmured darkly, trailing his free hand down Steve's front to unlatch and throw aside his utility belt with frightening precision, 'he fears you.'

Pressing himself sharply against the captain, Skull growled low; 'I do not fear you.'

The dam finally burst as Rogers forced a garbled shout and slammed his forehead into Skull's with force enough to send the commander stumbling back a single step, relieving the pressure on his neck and providing enough space for his guilt-stricken frustration to fuel a torrent of blows.

'Stop it!' he cried out, his mind swimming as he aimed a low kick into the back of Skull's left knee, and as the commander suddenly dropped to the floor, Rogers was on him in an instant, pressing hard against his back and throwing an arm tightly around his crimson neck. He panted into Skull's misshapen ear, reaching around to tear at the ornate silver belt buckle with one hand, and stifling the sinister chuckle that he felt more than heard with the other.

'Just, stop,' he hissed, blind with adrenaline, fear, anger, and months of frustration, barely aware of himself as he finished with the commander's button and fly and yanked his trousers down just enough, tore off his own glove with his teeth, and roughly breeched his enemy with two fingers.

Skull swallowed a groan at the sudden intrusion, and reached up instead to seize a fistful of damp blonde hair as the captain thrust mercilessly.

'Is that all you've got, American?'

The words were ground out through gritted teeth, and something in the German's thick, gravelly tones, the blatant challenge they bore, and the fierce grip on his hair made Steve's chest tighten and heat pool in the pit of his stomach. Never in his life had he backed away from a fight, and today was no exception.

Giving one final thrust he withdrew his fingers and hurriedly fumbled with the fastenings on his own uniform. His hand shook as he reached for his straining cock, and, pumping it twice, he lined up and pushed forward into his enemy, unable to hold back the guttural groan that forced its way from him.

'Ah, scheisse..!' Skull lurched forward, hissing with exquisite pain as the captain withdrew a little way and surged forward again, forcing himself in dry. The arm around his red neck tightened as it became a point of leverage and, with fingers still tangled in Rogers' hair, he braced himself against the floor on one arm as the captain pushed into him again and again, initiating a brutal pace.

Steve's mind swam. With every thrust he tried to believe that this was all that his hated rival was worth, tried to deny that every licentious groan he drew from Schmidt sent shivers up his spine. But the thought that this man could take anything that Steve dealt, that there was no reason to hold himself back, coupled with the perfect tightness enveloping him and the scorching hellfire of the German's crimson skin against his own made his blood boil. He clutched at Skull's hip as he drove himself harder, moaning shamelessly into the commander's sweat-dampened collar.

He was close already and Red Skull knew it. A low, rumbling snigger left the red lips, punctuated by sharp pants following Steve's every thrust, and vibrated through his rival's heaving, star spangled chest.

'Ah Captain..! come- for me- like you would -ah! for your pitiful- sergeant!

'Go to hell!' Steve shouted, the sound muffled against red, hot skin and black leather. His stomach roiled at the thought that the twisted German was actually enjoying himself until another gasp and groan met his ears and he felt so damn good fighting and fucking with everything he had but so ashamed that it burned like the red skin against his bare thighs and at last he was coming, sinking his teeth into Skull's shoulder as his shuddering thrusts reached an erratic peak and finally subsided.

Steve blinked. He could feel sweat dampening his forehead. His heart was pounding. His breathing was quickened, almost still to the point of panting. The tightness in his chest was gone. At last, he recognised a sense of exertion.

The realisation however was short lived; the disgustingly satisfied sigh that left him as his half-hard cock slipped from his enemy horrified him, bringing the taste of bile to this throat. The arm that still hooked around the commander's neck slackened as he hastened to tuck himself away and close the fastenings on his pants with one pale, shaking hand.

With a snort of derision, Skull took advantage of the captain's rueful attempt at modesty and broke free of the weakened headlock, rising to his feet and righting his uniform with an impossible grace considering. Turning sharply he sneered down at Rogers still kneeling before him on the laboratory floor; flushed, panting lightly, fingers fumbling in his lap.

Amongst his swimming thoughts, Steve registered that the commander's silver Hydra belt buckle still hung unfastened.

'Ah Captain,' Skull smiled darkly, 'look at you, so shameful.'

He leaned down to fiercely seize the American's cheek in one hand and forced his leather-clad thumb into his mouth, planting a solid kick into his gut as he tried to bite down. Steve spluttered, spit escaping around the intruding digit to drip down is chin.

'Who could imagine that the United States national treasure craves nothing more that a good… fight? Almost as much as I do.'

The frighteningly pleasant smile returned to Skull's horrible face as he thumbed Steve's tongue.

'And while I admit I expected better,' a free, leather-clad fist crashed into the captain's temple, 'the good doctor's greatest achievement,' a muffled shout as a polished boot sank into his midsection, 'is that you and I can just, keep going. Though…'

Skull slipped his thumb from Steve's mouth as he heaved and coughed, and instead slid his wet fingers up to take a fistful of the captain's hair once again, 'after that particularly disgraceful attempt at what, punishment, retribution?' he leaned closer, a hair's breadth from his enemy, his voice little more than a gravelly whisper, 'I do wonder just how much you can take.'

A pained shout filled the heavy air of the laboratory as an inhuman strength swiftly yanked Steve to his feet by the fist in his hair and dragged him backwards, depositing him roughly against the laboratory wall mere feet from the bolted door.

The seconds it took for Skull to pin the struggling captain and wrap one gloved hand around his throat gave Steve enough time to take in the almost imperceptible stiffness in the commander's gait. His unbidden flash of satisfaction was quickly swallowed by an immediate surge of revulsion, though not before he felt his cock begin to swell for a second time. He flushed. Groaning quietly, he suddenly, and not for the first time, resented his new body.

'Speak up Captain, I didn't quite hear you.'

Skull punctuated his words by tightening his grip on Steve's throat with one hand and simultaneously groping his crotch with the other, roughly kneading the American's half-hard cock.

'Hngh-!' Steve squirmed, unwanted heat spreading through his chest and down his thighs from where Skull held him, as if the German was infecting him with the hellfire that flowed through his own veins.

He gasped for air as he was suddenly twisted around to face the wall and all of the commander's searing weight was pressed against him.

'You know,' Skull spoke softly into Steve's ear, making him shiver with a conflict of emotions the were, to his chagrin, becoming harder and harder to give a damn about, 'you American's are such wonderful candidates for torture. Do you know why?'

A pang of anxiety clutched his heart as he felt the commander's cock pressing into his lower back. Skull ground harder, 'do you?'

Steve grit his teeth. 'Why?'

'Because,' Skull breathed hotly, reaching around to work at the clasps of captain's gaudy blue pants and slipping his leather-clad hand inside, 'you do almost all of the work for me.'

Steve began to struggle again as the commander gripped his cock almost too hard. He barely restrained himself from thrusting forward into that terrible strength, convinced too quickly that it was only to escape from what was happening behind him; the other gloved hand gently sliding his pants down before the sound of a zipper filled the stifling air.

'You feel such shame,' Steve sucked in a sharp lungful of air as Skull's bare skin touched his, waiting for the moment when the commander's cock would burn right through his flesh, 'such guilt.' Rodgers shuddered as he felt the German smile against his ear.

'What would your men say if they knew how much you enjoyed our little fight today?' A whine forced itself from Steve's throat as he felt the firm press of smooth leather-clad fingers inch down his cleft to his tight entrance. He was torn between lashing out and waiting for what would happen next, and instantly hated himself for it.

Skull forced a finger inside and Steve ground his teeth, trying with all his might to stifle the pained cry that threatened to escape but instead became a high, breathy moan. The hand on his cock was still, gripping him, holding him in place. He shivered as hot breath drifted over the nape of his neck.

'And Erskine,' Skull whispered darkly, 'why, he would be turning in his shallow grave.'

Steve's heart skipped a beat, his skin suddenly prickling with cold dread. No no no, not him, not now. As a wave of nausea washed over him he wanted to shout, cry; everything was so wrong and yet a terrible part of him still waited. The fight wasn't over. He writhed with renewed vigour as Skull laughed and added a second digit, stretching him further.

'You just don't give up, do you.'

Steve panted. 'I could do this all day.'

Skull thrust sharply and Steve gasped, the German's heavy tones directly in his ear.

'Oh, I doubt it.'

Before Rogers had a chance to think, Skull withdrew both hands and quickly discarded his slightly dampened gloves before kicking the captain's feet wider apart, and forcing three bare fingers into his open mouth. The scorching heat that radiated from the German's bare skin overpowered the faint taste of leather, and Steve thrashed and spat as the digits thrust to the back of his throat before pulling out.

From behind him, the commander groaned low, roughly fisting his own cock with his saliva-slicked hand as he wound the other into the damp hair at the base of Steve's neck, slamming him face first into the wall.

The trickling sensation in his nose precluded the first brutal thrust, and Steve couldn't hold back the shout of pain as he was suddenly stretched wide, Skull's hands gripping tightly to his hip and smearing blood across his face as a second thrust seated him to the hilt. Steve panted furiously into the commander's palm, the pain and heavy tang of blood in his mouth almost blinding him.

Skull moved agonisingly slowly, forcing the Captain to feel every inch of him as he withdrew almost entirely before pressing forward, over and over. One of his bloodstained fingers slipped into the open mouth as he thrust, and he chuckled darkly through the pain as he was bitten hard.

Steve immediately regretted tearing at the invading digit with his teeth as he tasted more blood, this time not his own. His head swam as his stomach roiled sharply, the competing stimuli almost overwhelming his senses; the burning throb of Skull's cock filling him entirely, his enemy's hot blood seeping across his tongue. As Skull ground forward once more he forced his trapped finger through Steve's teeth further, his red skin tearing and issuing more blood.

The combined horror that his denial was faltering, that the commander's thrusts almost felt good mixed with the thick coppery tang sliding down his throat made the urge to vomit ever more powerful. His eyes watered as he gagged, trying to focus on how awful his hated rival's ragged flesh felt against his tongue instead of the unmistakeable heat pooling in his loins.

'Ah Captain…' Skull breathed, sending an instant shiver down Steve's spine and straight to his half-hard cock. Then without warning, the commander bucked sharply and a garbled cry forced itself from Steve, blood and saliva spilling from his mouth where Skull's finger invaded him.

This earned him another fierce thrust as the hand that had been gripping his hip shifted to seize one pale buttock, spreading him. His groan of what he wished had been pain was answered by the commander as he watched himself, his blood-red cock, pounding heavily into the pristine body of the captain. Steve hated himself then, knowing that he could, if he wanted to, escape from his enemy's grip at any moment, and yet failed to do more than shiver through each quick, heavy thrust. The fire in the pit of his stomach continued to grow, stoked by the rhythmic pants of exertion that drifted across the back of his neck.

With a choked sob Rogers tilted his hips, pressing back into the German's next fierce thrust. In that split second, his enemy withdrew completely with a bark of laughter, and before the unbidden whine of protest had left his throat Steve was roughly shoved in a sprawling heap to the laboratory floor, the pants around his ankles acting as a hobble.

A bubble of anger overrode his embarrassment and he turned a snarling glare on the German, teeth bared as his enemy loomed over him. Skull's smirk only morphed into a low chuckle, his jutting crimson cock bobbing slightly as he took in the sight of his rival; flushed, desperate, yet still defiant.

'Even now,' he rumbled, palming himself as he stepped forward, 'a fight isn't over, until it's over.'

He knelt swiftly and dealt a sharp blow to Steve's face, then to his ribs. Pushing the gasping captain onto his front, he then dragged him to his hands and knees, wrenched his legs apart, and positioned himself, rubbing his throbbing cock between the cleft of Steve's buttocks. Drawing back a moment, Skull spat, and Steve tried to hold onto his disgust as the commander forced himself inside once more, aided by the saliva that trickled down to his aching entrance.

This time he was merciless, a vibrating growl accompanying what seemed like an endless succession of fierce thrusts. Lunging forward he grabbed a fistful of Steve's hair and wrenched his head back, using it as leverage as he fucked him ruthlessly.

Steve no longer had control over his body. His eyes streamed, his flesh burned. A string of groans and pants left him each time Skull's thighs slapped against his own, and he suddenly realised the terrible urgency with which his impending orgasm was approaching.

All at once, the German gave a shout and drove a powerful fist into the side of Steve's head, then again from below into his gut, causing him to arch his spine. It was his undoing, as at that moment the commander's cock grazed his prostate and he cried out, every muscle in his enhanced body tightening as he came hard enough to see stars. He was vaguely aware of a sudden heat spreading inside him as the German abruptly stilled. Heavy pants, and far-off gunshots filled the room.

With a grunt, Skull withdrew and pushed Rogers to the floor once more before rising slowly to his feet, closing the fastenings of his uniform and clasping his ornate belt buckle. His thighs burned deliciously from exertion, his back ached; sensations he had almost forgotten. After a beat Steve rose and dressed himself, his eyes never leaving the commander as he fought to keep his legs from shaking. He felt fatigued, his whole body throbbing and his heart still racing. It felt too good to even admit to himself, even as he felt the horrible wetness pooling between his legs.

They simply regarded one another for a moment, almost daring the other to make a move. When Steve finally looked away Skull scoffed, his haughty smirk returning. He took a measured step forward, and Steve held his ground.

'You are deluded Captain,' the commander murmured, his eyes flicking up and down Steve's still form.

'You pretend to be a simple soldier but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly, without fear.'

As Steve opened his mouth to retort a loud explosion from below shook the small laboratory, two more following in quick succession. Wasting no time, Skull threw one last heavy fist into Steve's gut, the impact catching him by surprise and forcing the wind out of him. As he sunk to his knees, he saw the commander turn sharply and make for the exit, throwing back the bolted door and disappearing down the corridor without a second glance.

Gasping a lungful of air he pushed himself to his feet and followed the path of his enemy, leaning on the doorframe just a moment as he marvelled at the extraordinarily human sensations plaguing his body, things he hadn't felt in months. And he had no one but his most hated rival to thank for it.

His gut churned, shame bubbling to the surface as the feeling of the commander riding him returned in crystal clarity. Grunting, he launched himself on unsteady legs down the quaking corridor, quashing the commander's words and his racing thoughts as another rigged explosion shook the base. Escape was a priority.

He would deal with this fucked up mess later.

'Arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait, but I must say you do it better than anyone.'

The Red Skull was waiting for him as several Hydra guards escorted the Captain to the commander's private bureau, five hundred feet below the Swiss Alps.

'But there are limits, to what even you can do, Captain,' Skull advanced across the large room to face his prisoner, and waved away the guards, 'or did Erskine tell you otherwise?'

The heavy doors behind him thudded shut and Steve glanced over his shoulder. His heart began to pound. As he turned back to face his captor, he was met with that same smouldering gaze and haughty, crimson smirk that he recognised from weeks before. He swallowed, feeling the blood thrum through his veins as Skull stepped forward again.

'So,' the commander gripped him by the throat and forced him backwards until his back thumped against the bureau wall, 'what made you so special?'
Steve tilted his head up and smirked right back, those burning fingers around his neck through the leather of the gloves, the hot breath on his face tinged with Schnapps fuelling the thrumming that had already reached his cock. His stomach clenched with the shame he knew would come but it was already too late. It had been too late the moment he had set foot on the Hydra base.

He'd been itching for a fight.

'Nothin',' Steve answered, taking hold of the commander's open collar in one fist, 'I'm just a kid from Brooklyn.'