The Soldier nods - or, at least, he thinks he nods. Hard to tell when Rumlow's brutally pounding him hard enough that it hurts more than it feels good, shocks of fresh pain radiating out from his channel as his handler drives in again and again and again.

He complies as best he can with his mind swimming, a fresh wave of dizziness swaying the corner of the room and the bed. As ordered he clenches down on Rumlow, his muscles rippling around the heat of his hard shaft. Is that tight enough? It wouldn't do to hurt his handler in the middle of instruction -

With his ass clenched, the hard smack against his cheek jolts him out of his daze, briefly interrupts the hypnotic rhythm set by Rumlow plowing into him. The Soldier's actually startled by it, a surprised hiss escaping through his clenched teeth. This time he squeezes harder, longer; a roar of rushing blood in his ears as his head sinks down so his burning hot forehead rests against the pillow, teeth grit, his hand curled into chrome claws against the concrete wall. His ass serves as counter-balance, wantonly tipped up in the air as if presented for Rumlow to inspect.

The Soldier's head tilts sideways against the pillow, dark curls of his hair plastered to his brow and cheeks, strands now damp with fresh sweat. His lips part as he moans, still bodily squeezing and maybe they can share that pain because he's now squeezing hard enough that maybe it'll hurt for Rumlow, too.