Rumlow jerks against his long hair like it's the reins of a horse. With his neck bent backward enough that his chin gets lifted up from the sink's basin, James only makes things work by arching his back in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Each thrust and drag of Rumlow's fingers - slicked but not enough - drives his hips forward into the counter, has him writhing in pain, the exposed cheeks of his ass twitching.

James struggles to focus on the question. "...I don't..."

Squeezing his eyes shut, lashes glimmering, his mouth works silently for a moment while he struggles for the words. If it wasn't for the involuntary tears starting up James might've even looked like the Winter Soldier again with his ass up in the air and his hair grabbed to control his head - but the Soldier rarely cries these days and it didn't take much for Rumlow to force out the beginnings of tears with "James". It takes longer than it normally would for James to concentrate past Rumlow's fingers driving into his ass, feeling too tight, the quivering hole too small to accommodate him.

"I...I don't know!" he gasps. "Please."

He isn't sure what he's begging for. Doesn't know what he wants. Dizzy with pain, James struggles from where Rumlow has him good and pinned, still instinctively trying to get escape, to relieve his tortured neck. He manages to get his right hand flattened against the sink, his knees banging against the cabinet doors underneath the sink for leverage. Now he's blindly trying to push back from the sink, not even thinking about the fact that Rumlow clearly wanted him bent over for ease of access.