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

[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.