At a first glance the Soldier might look fighting fit.
The truth is that he's still physically weak after the events of the last 24 hours - between getting shocked into unconsciousness in the shower and then having his brain practically liquefied by the suppression chair while Rumlow fucked him, and it's a miracle he's able to stand and speak at all. Typically when someone shoves an object up his ass, the Soldier can and will take it with minimal complaint, bite down any noises because an asset isn't allowed to utter them. To do otherwise would only distract from a handler taking time out of their busy day to instruct him.
This time, though, all it takes is a single shove of Rumlow's thick cock to drag out a pained gasp that he can't quite choke back in time.
Tears brimming against his dark lashes, his head hanging down as he grits his teeth, the Soldier struggles to nod.
"Yes," he says, his voice strangled.
Breathing heavily through his nose, nostrils flaring, the Winter Soldier trembles around Rumlow's shaft as he presses along seemingly every centimeter, every inch. His arms and thighs shake with the effort to remain upright and on all fours, as ordered. Behind him, he can feel Rumlow's fingers digging into his skin - trying to center him, maybe, to guide him away from little distractions like fatigue and dizziness.
no subject
The truth is that he's still physically weak after the events of the last 24 hours - between getting shocked into unconsciousness in the shower and then having his brain practically liquefied by the suppression chair while Rumlow fucked him, and it's a miracle he's able to stand and speak at all. Typically when someone shoves an object up his ass, the Soldier can and will take it with minimal complaint, bite down any noises because an asset isn't allowed to utter them. To do otherwise would only distract from a handler taking time out of their busy day to instruct him.
This time, though, all it takes is a single shove of Rumlow's thick cock to drag out a pained gasp that he can't quite choke back in time.
Tears brimming against his dark lashes, his head hanging down as he grits his teeth, the Soldier struggles to nod.
"Yes," he says, his voice strangled.
Breathing heavily through his nose, nostrils flaring, the Winter Soldier trembles around Rumlow's shaft as he presses along seemingly every centimeter, every inch. His arms and thighs shake with the effort to remain upright and on all fours, as ordered. Behind him, he can feel Rumlow's fingers digging into his skin - trying to center him, maybe, to guide him away from little distractions like fatigue and dizziness.