Only 3 choices

[quickied]

FUCK*, MARRY, OR KILL
a game with a twist



You know the game: now, let’s dabble in a version that’s a little bit unusual.

how to play
○ Do the comment do.
○ Folks line up to say whether they would fuck* (*kiss, if your character's underage or you're not into R-rated dialogue), marry, or kill your guy.
○ Rinse. Repeat. ♾️

Comments

well he's sorely mistaken!!

[discobaron]

[ooc: no it's not.

jk. 😉]

Whether Bucky has realized it or not, he's discovered the baron's weakness, the one thing guaranteed to dissolve him into a puddle of useless nothingness while tightening his trousers to levels of dangerous discomfort simultaneously. Zemo is full of lust but, more importantly, he is full of yearning. And being mercilessly teased by the object of his unhealthy obsession, no matter the context, is the worst sort of fuel for any fire.

Nothing else matters but those beautiful blue eyes, that cocky and oh so confident attitude, every touch no matter how slight, the feeling of cool metal against burning hot skin. Who cares about a messy appearance when all the baron wants is to be messed up even more, taken apart piece by piece until there's truly nothing left but the blinding whiteness of pleasure.

He pulls Bucky into the car with him, slipping his coat from his shoulders nearly as soon as he slides across the backseat. It's left abandoned in a pool smooshed against the door on the opposite side. There's no need for it when he's already feeling quite overheated.

Their knees bump, and Zemo leans into it without hesitation, leans closer to Bucky and reaches out to grab hold of him by the front of his shirt. Unable to look away, he continues to stare straight ahead with heavy-hooded eyes, blindly groping around for the button that will put the privacy screen up and leave them to it.

"It's not even my favorite one," he comments offhandedly before reluctantly turning his head and calling up to the front before the panel is shut completely. "To the Aman, please. Take your time."

Because there's no way he isn't going to get what he wants before they pull up outside the lobby. Not when he's this worked up.

His full attention is back on Bucky and he's practically pulling himself into the other man's lap, determined to go in for a kiss. So pathetic and desperate for it by this point. Please don't make him beg.

[frozenassets]

Bucky can't even imagine owning more than one car. Back home, his family could only afford the one. And the collection Bucky saw earlier probably was only a small fraction of what Zemo owns. But he can see why it's Zemo's favorite. It's roomy, posh, expensive looking without looking gaudy.

How often has Zemo done this in one of his cars? The driver doesn't seem all that surprised, just seems to get the message with the kind of cool professionalism that says, yeah, maybe this used to happen a lot. Bucky keeps himself in an easy sprawl until the privacy panel slides up with a click, while he lets his eyes just drop down to Zemo's mouth and shamelessly stay there like he's imagining how it'll taste. Lets him feel the heat between them.

Normally, if this had been a real mission as the Soldier, he would've cozied up to his target by now. Maybe take his time spreading the the man's fly open with gloved hands, before bending over his lap, long hair brushing against slacks as he lathed kitten licks along the shaft he'd draw out, to tease the target until he was straining and nearly out of his mind before the car stopped. People got stupid, got careless when they were riled up that bad. Funny how much of your brain gets sucked right down to your dick.

So he's not expecting Zemo to get impatient. Bucky grunts, a flush going down his face as Zemo practically crawls over him, greedily dragging into a kiss that's half-bruising and so hot that Bucky moans into it, eyes fluttering closed as he works Zemo's fly open, metal fingers dipping inside to knead gently at him as he parts his lips to welcome Zemo in.

[discobaron]

The baron's assets are stashed all over the world at this point. The wealth that hasn't been seized by various governments safely tucked away in case of emergencies - or... whatever this little rendezvous happens to be. It's not an ideal way to live, but it's proven its usefulness time and time again. Zemo always has a place to go, always has resources available with a simple text or call.

It's been a long time since he's engaged in such intimate activities with anyone. He's what most would refer to as touch-starved, the years in prison only adding to the condition. And being on the receiving end of Bucky's little demonstration is driving him wild.

He ends up straddling Bucky's lap with a fluid motion, not leaving room for protest or much of anything else. He's seated properly, his thighs firmly locking the other man in place where he sits, the material of Bucky's top still twisted in his fist.

That moan sends shivers of delight through him, and he sighs against those lips, daring to suckle at Bucky's lower one just to be a tease. His hips jolt a moment later, and Zemo has to hold back a whine as metal meets flesh once again. Their kiss swallows up any other noises he starts to make - more pathetic than the last, really - his tongue probing deep and seeking to mingle. He's downright shuddering now, so hot and hard against that palm, unable to stop himself from rocking a little into the touch.

When he finally comes up for air, his lips are swollen and he's oh so breathless, face flushed from all the exertion. Zemo's gaze flicks upward, their mouths still pressed flush. There's no way he's pulling back, not even for the briefest moment. "You're gorgeous, you know that?" he murmurs. "Simply perfect..."

[frozenassets]

The shirt digs into Bucky's muscles when Zemo drags at it, like he's thinking of tearing it off before they even get somewhere actually decent. Or maybe if he has it his way, grinding out an orgasm for them both right on his lap. You'd think a guy like Zemo would have some patience, but it turns out even that has its limits. Bucky just rolls his hips up in a lazy roll, like he's in no hurry, savoring the friction he never allowed himself outside of this. If this was a true mission, he'd take his time. Drag it out, make the target go stupid with want.

Interest makes his belly go tight and his dick strain against his fly as he rocks against Zemo, welcoming the slick press and slide of Zemo's tongue as he sucks on it with a soft moan, losing himself in the feel and taste of the other man's mouth and the heady desire each touch drags out of him.

It's easier for some reason. Bucky had given dating a try: it felt weird in person when everyone's so normal, even weirder on the apps, which are somehow worse than newspaper adverts back in the 40s. He'd given up after awhile. Maybe it's because Zemo's already seen him at his worst, and he doesn't have to try to act like a full person in front of him. It helps when Zemo's bar is low: just don't be the kind of super soldier he hates. He's probably the only one out of the lot that didn't even want the serum.

Bucky strokes him carefully, in no real hurry, meant to give just enough pressure and friction to get him hard, but not enough to drag him to the finish line anytime soon.

A pretty flush sits on Bucky's face as he admires the way Zemo's mouth looks swollen, his own looking tender and pink. Bucky's mouth quirks; it's not the first time he's heard it. If this was a mission, it'd wash right over him. Just another sign he was maneuvering the target where he wanted him. But now it sends a thrill of pleasure through Bucky.

A cool thumb strokes over the slit in the blunt head of Zemo's cock, as Bucky looks up at him through dark eyelashes; the kind of look that's always brought men to their knees, now Bucky aims it at him like a weapon. "Bet you say that to all the fellas. You're a real dish yourself. The full package and then some."

[discobaron]

Between all the crawling and clawing - yes, Zemo's being grossly impatient. He'll be sure to apologize for such rude behavior once he's back in his right mind - but he won't shy away from paying compliments where they're due. A generous amount bordering on the obnoxious.

He's already gone stupid, the flirting and touching at the bar making his head swim. But now that they're alone in his car, he doesn't feel the need to restrain himself. He's focused on his desires, on whatever this is, and keeps tugging on Bucky's shirt and whimpering into heated kisses while his hips go wild.

Bucky knows what he's done, has every right to despise the man straddling his lap. But he doesn't. He's tolerating Zemo at the very least, allowing him to do this. Humoring him. And he's even responding in kind. The baron can feel him harden in his jeans as they grind together in the backseat like a pair of teenagers. It can't be genuine, right? No matter how badly Zemo wants it to be.

Is he leaking already? Yes. It's embarrassing. The cool metal of Bucky's hand, just the mere concept of being touched by such a powerful prosthetic - it's overstimulating in the best way possible. His lips part and a soft gasp hitches in his throat, his hips bucking hard against that hand as he's teased.

"No." He swallows, giving the slightest shake of his head. "Just you." And he dares to let his guard down, the dumbest smile spreading across his lips as he's caught up in the other man's sultry gaze. Amidst the arousal impairing his judgement there is a certain truth to what he says and it hangs heavy.

[frozenassets]

If this were a real mission and Zemo a target, he would've been so easy to take out right now, Bucky thinks. Sometimes he can't help it. Doesn't matter how much therapy he's had. Sometimes he just can't help slipping back into looking at the world couched in missions and parameters and HYDRA's framework. And Zemo would be a very easy target now. He's so eager that it's messing with common sense, makes him think entirely with his dick. With the other men, it took longer, more work to get them to that point.

Bucky goes with it; let's his shirt get stripped off in a long arc of muscle in his lean body. Turns out when HYDRA doesn't have him, Bucky just doesn't take care of himself as much as they did, which means he's no longer built like a tank but something more feline and dark grace as he takes Zemo's full weight.

Maybe if he weren't so screwed up, Bucky'd have the common sense left to hate Zemo. Easy for Zemo to say it wasn't personal, but when Bucky's life got upended, nearly killed multiple times. It's personal. It should feel personal and he shouldn't want Zemo's touch on him. But here he is, half-hard from Zemo's touch working over him and chasing after his mouth, swallowing up the filthy sounds he makes with a hot slide of his tongue against his as he carefully pumps his cock, a metal thumb rubbing the clear fluid all over the rosy head.

Every other time he tried to make time with someone, it felt like a chore. Like he was going through the motions. But Zemo for some reason makes him feel so alive that Bucky's latching on with both hands.

"How can I believe half of what you say?" Bucky husks against his mouth.

[discobaron]

If this were a real mission? It would be a wonderful way to go - all hot and disheveled in such a beautiful man's lap. Much more preferable to being caught out on the battlefield or in the middle of some chaotic underground firefight.

Before he knows it, he's casually tossing Bucky's shirt behind his own head so it can join his abandoned coat in a rumpled mess. And his hands run up the other man's bare torso, fingertips tracing over the defined muscles along the way. There's a difference, yes, from the first time they met. Bucky's not as bulky anymore, nor is his physique barely contained inside his clothes. But he's still a gorgeous specimen, perhaps even more so now. By comparison, the baron's almost all soft from too many years of imprisonment, all scarred up from various near-death experiences. And there's something breathtaking about that, he thinks to himself, once his hands have made it up to Bucky's broad chest.

"You don't have to believe any of it," he replies with the softest puff of air. "I can't force you to do that." His hands are slipping up and cupping Bucky's face now, holding him still between kisses. "But I'm sure I could convince you somehow?"

That last part comes out as a question, and there's that look again - the one that screams mischief - accompanied by a nip to Bucky's lower lip. Zemo keeps wriggling and squirming in the other man's lap, but steels himself the best he can. He can't be pushed over the edge this quickly. Not when there's so much fun to be had and so much convincing to be done.

The kisses stray from Bucky's lips to his jaw, and then they trail further downward. Zemo's mouth lingers at times, his teeth nipping at the other man's pulse point, the crook of his neck. He lavishes Bucky with attention and heated, open-mouthed kisses against his skin.

[frozenassets]

The driver doesn't skimp on the AC. It doesn't take long at all for Bucky's nipples to pebble in the cool air and under Zemo's roving touch. The guy doesn't paw at him like some of the other men, clumsy or too rough, but instead - Bucky's breath hitches, dick throbbing in his fly- as clever hands feel out the play of lean muscle like it's as valuable as any sculpture in a museum. Something to be treasured, admired.

Metal fingers brush against Zemo's skin as he helps him out of his shirt, letting the cool kiss of vibranium skim against his sternum as Bucky takes him in, his palm skidding down a path of scars that speaks of Zemo's time in black ops. Prison's made Zemo soft, or maybe he spent all that time plotting and not pressing weights to pass the time: knowing Zemo, it's option one. He's no slouch in field work but Zemo's best weapon is his mind.

All it takes is Zemo speaking. Bucky's attention drags back to him: can't help himself no matter where they are or who's around them. When Zemo speaks, he commands the room.

"I heard you're very convincing when you want to be," Bucky's eyes slip half closed, face tilted up towards Zemo and grey eyes gone dark with arousal, dick twitching when Zemo nips at his lower lip. He sucks it between his teeth and top lip as if to chase after the phantom ache of teeth, rocking up against Zemo as if he means to rut against him the entire ride or until Zemo loses it as he pumps at him like he's got all the time in the world. Whichever comes first.

Bucky tilts his head to the side with a uneven, ragged moan as Zemo's mouth works its way down towards his jaw, the graze of teeth urging Bucky's hips up in a jolt and hard grind that leaves him breathless.