Your love for me is poison

TABOO meme

Most societies have certain mores that are unspoken rules; humanity itself even has such conventions, grilled subconsciously into our minds for our own safety. Don't go out alone at night. Avoid getting wet when it's cold. Don't pick fights with those stronger than you...okay, some of us missed the boat on the last one, but the point still stands. Society's rules tend to be more variable, though they apply to most aspects of life - including sex. In fact, bending the rules on what's considered acceptable in romance and sexual encounters can lead to anything from ostracization to death, depending on the time and culture.

So, play it close to the chest if you're going to do a big, big, big t a b o o. Is it worth the risk?

How to Play

- Comment with your character and preferences. Be sure to include what you want and what you DON'T WANT. Blank comments are fine; info is even better!
- Reply to others.
- Be fun and respect others, as this will deal with some heavy topics and potentially triggering material s.

Prompts

A G E ( DIFFERENCE ) - light of my life, fire of my loins. you're supposed to stick to those your own age, but you can't resist.
I N C E S T - you're of the same blood, yet something draws you together. you'll keep your secret thicker than water.
C H E A T I N G - when you were young, they should have taught you to not take things that belong to other people.
I N ( PUBLIC ) - to involve unsuspecting others in your sex is insidious, but you can't resist it.
S U P E R F L U O U S - some conservative societies view sex outside procreational purposes as taboo. that means anal, oral, and toys are all no-go.
F I X A T I O N - you're nearly obsessed with one part of your partner - breasts, ass, lips...whatever the case may be, you always focus on that.
D E V I A N C Y ( IN SUBURBIA ) - there are some things that should be sacred. the home should be one of those. should.
S I Z E - pick on someone your own size. couples with large size difference, be it height or weight, can be looked down upon; don't let that get you down.
P H O B I A - unfortunately, in some societies, being with someone of the same gender is a taboo, no matter how much progress the modern world has made.
F E T I S H - some just can't get off without their fetish, and the varieties run the gamut: feet, crossdressing, autoerotic asphyxiation, foodplay, bondage...it goes on and on.
U N E X P E C T E D ( DOMINATION/SUBMISSION ) - the masculine must be dominant. the feminine must be submissive. what if you're dominant in life, though, and just want to be submissive in the bedroom.
V I O L E N T - more than mere lover's spats, what goes on between you two is dangerous. if people knew, they'd be horrified. still, you can't stop.
F O R B I D D E N ( LOVE ) - your relationship may be taboo, but there's genuine love in your copulation. this isn't merely a thrill.
L O O S E - monogamy isn't what you're after. no matter how looked down upon it is, you're going to have fun while you can.
S T U D E N T / T E A C H E R - what goes on between the sheets is not an appropriate subject matter to teach. there's so much to lose; is it a smart game to play?
A U T H O R I T Y - perhaps they're the boss, the president, the king, but you, you're a lowly peon. are they using their powers over you or is this something you both want?
I N T E R S P E C I E S - kind finds kind, and don't you be a traitor by being with one of them.
B E S T I A L I T Y - one of the most primal taboos. will you go into that moral wilderness?
S O C I A L ( CLASS ) - the rich. the poor. it's like they're in two different worlds. what will the uppercrust say if they saw their golden child with a tramp?
C E L I B A C Y - you are supposed to keep your chastity, but things are never that easy.
S T O C K H O L M - prisoners should never fall for their guards.
D U T I E S - whether it be saving the world or being the world's best bodyguard, your sworn quest and purpose keeps you from enjoying the sins of the flesh - especially with your charges.
I N N O C E N C E - one of you is much more worldly, and to ruin the "innocence" of the other feels unclean.
F E R T I L E - you aren't supposed to find mothers or fathers sexually alluring. however, there's something so enticing about fertility...perhaps even pregnancy.
C O R R U P T I O N - society expects you to treat your partner well, not try to destroy them through sexual degradation.
N O N C O N S E N S U A L - consent is rightfully important to a healthy sexual relationship. to break that trust is taboo.

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Rumlow waits.

He's quiet as he waits, letting the Soldier cycle through it all. They're trying something different, something new. Rumlow thinks- no, he's almost positive this will make the Soldier more subservient. And maybe, just maybe... he has his own interest in mind as well.

When the Soldier sits and looks at him, Rumlow smirks, dark eyes boring into the pliant thing in front of him. He focuses, and it's perfect. Rumlow will make sure he zeroes in on him even more. He pulls out the book, staring the Soldier down.

"Желание
Ржавый
Семнадцать
Рассвет
Печь
Девять
Добросердечный
Возвращение на родину
Один
Товарный вагон."

He says the words slowly, breaks between each, watching as the Soldier reacts.

Edited 2025-06-26 07:12 (UTC)

There's always a reaction of some kind when that trigger sequence is used.

Unable to tear his eyes away from Rumlow, the Soldier at first just sits there on the bed with his elbows loosely resting on his thighs, mismatching hands relaxed as they hang down. Pliable. Absorbing everything and anything from the man in the room with him, commanding his attention. He might even look at ease, well-rested, if it wasn't for the streaks of dried drool and tears across his haggard face, the reddened skin where the suppression arc had seared electrical charges against his eye and cheek and temples.

It's only after Rumlow gets a few triggers words in, stringing the sequence together into a chain that wraps around the Soldier's mind, that he'll drag out those physical tells they're working:

A twitch of the Asset's dark head to the side, then a shake, like trying to get rid of dust and cobwebs. A spasm of his metal hand as it curls and uncurls into a fist. Hitched breathing; head tilting back slightly as his lips part and he gulps for air. His body quivers before he suddenly goes...still.

The Soldier doesn't lurch up from his position on the bed. The twitching stops, his breathing levels out and he's blank again, eyes fixed on Rumlow across the small confines of the VIP cell.

"Я готов отвечать."

Edited (caught another typo) 2025-06-26 18:52 (UTC)

He's done this before, quite a few times now. Being the Soldier's primary handler has gotten him this privilege. It feels different this time though- or maybe that's just what he's hoping for.

It's the same as always in this capacity, though- the way the Asset's head tilts, the way he spasms, and the words start to take hold. The way a shudder runs through those limbs, breath hitching. The way everything goes blank inside, but this time the Soldier's gaze is steady on him.

Good.

Rumlow comes over to the bed, tucking the book away as he moves to loom over him. He wants to see if the Soldier's gaze follows.

"Do you remember who I am?" He asks, reaching out to rub at the dried drool from the side of the Soldier's mouth. He smirks softly at the thought of his cum still dry between his Soldier's legs as well.

"Yes," the Soldier says dully. "You're Brock Rumlow. My handler."

He doesn't pull his head away even as Rumlow rubs at the corner of his mouth with a callused thumb, something almost caring, maybe even possessive about the gesture. Bits of old saliva flake off. he gazes up, his handler gazes down, and he doesn't think to look away because...there is no because. He doesn't think, because he's waiting for Rumlow to tell him what to do, if he's permitted to look away or if he should maintain eye contact. Since he hasn't told him to get up or lie down, he remains sitting, his legs unconsciously spread to give Rumlow better access to get closer.

Freshly wiped and prepped with the trigger sequence, now primed to obey the man who tightened the leash around his mind, the Winter Soldier is the model of perfect obedience. Nothing behind the dim blue of his eyes, his mind hollowed out by the buzzing arc of the chair, his expression slack as he stares vacantly at Rumlow without that air of uncertainty and fear hanging over him like a miasma.

What's there to fear? An asset belongs to his handler; any difficult decisions (or decisions overall) will be entrusted to Rumlow and all he needs to do is comply.

Edited 2025-06-27 00:37 (UTC)

"Good boy." Rumlow looks at him, pleased. "That's right. I'm not just your handler though, am I. I take care of you. You... you take care of me. We look out for each other." Because that's what this really is, isn't it? That's what he wants it to be.

He smirks when the Soldier's legs widen for him, and he steps in closer, his hand sliding up to push through his Soldier's hair, tilting his head back just a little more so he can fully look down at him. "What would you do for me, Soldier?"

When Rumlow says it, everything seems to just...fall into place. It makes sense - not that the Soldier should be the judge of that, because that's what his handler's for - and he knows that whatever the man wants, he'll provide it.

Rumlow will find that not only was the Soldier dressed for some reason, someone on the wipe team has actually tried to deal with the tangles in his overgrown, unkempt hair. Maybe it's the same person who stuck him in the thin hospital gown. Maybe it's because the Soldier was unconscious longer than usual. Whatever the case, when Rumlow threads his fingers through his hair it'll feel like he's catching on less tangles, the strands still brittle from the sanitation chemicals he got sprayed down with but at least there's significantly less mats.

His head tilted back, Rumlow's palm cupping the back of his pounding skull, the Soldier looks up at his handler. "Anything," he says without thinking about it. "Whatever you want me to do."

Rumlow will have to find that person. He's not sure what he'll do with them yet.

For now though, it's a good thing. He likes these longer strands when they're easier to hold on to. Easier to pull. He's feeling particularly kind right now. There has to be a difference when it comes to order and pain. There has to be that tantalizing care in between.

The words come so easily, mindlessly. Rumlow misses the turmoil in those blue eyes, but he can work with this too. Of course he can. He lets go of the Soldiers hair, tilting his head back down just a little and pulls a bottle of water from one of the compartments in his cargo pants, opening it up for his Soldier. "Open your mouth. Drink slowly. Look at me."

He tips the bottle so the water flows into the Soldier's mouth and he can drink, eyes not leaving those icy blues. He pauses to let the Soldier swallow, then keeps going that way until the bottle is drained. "Does that feel better?"

Complying, glassy eyes still locked on Rumlow, the Soldier opens his mouth, inviting his handler to pour whatever's in the bottle without question.

He drinks slowly. Or more, accurately, he tries to.

Maybe it's the recent wipe, his body still recovering even though outwardly he looks fine. It takes awhile to remember how to swallow, his tongue feeling thick and dry in his mouth, his throat clenching as he suddenly chokes on the first few sips, water splashing on himself and a few droplets beading against Rumlow's hand wrapped around the bottle. After that, though, the Soldier seems to regain control of his still-healing faculties, Adam's apple bobbling as he obediently swallows. He'll manage small drinks with his mouth open, tongue glistening, head tilted back a little, blue eyes fixed on Rumlow's through a few tangles of hair plastered against his face in dark curls.

After awhile there's no more water, the Soldier swallowing every last drop. He'll close his mouth once Rumlow lowers his bottle and asks for his input.

Tongue slipping out to catch a few beads of water against his upper lip, the Soldier considers the question. "I think so. Yes."

It's fine, Rumlow doesn't mind the mess. They've been in a lot worse than this together. Blood, cum, sweat. He waits patiently as his Soldier adjusts and swallows. It's good practice either way- and he likes being this person for him. The one who will re-teach what he already knows.

He moves the bottle away, thumb dragging along the Soldier's lower lip when he's done. "Good boy," he praises, then leans in close, letting his tongue lap along the Soldier's lower lip before he practically purrs. "Kiss me like you mean it."

The Soldier should have enough inherent training and brainwashing to know what that means. He's not the Winter Soldier for nothing.

His lower lip still shining with a combination of water and Rumlow's saliva, still warm, the Soldier leans forward to close what little distance remains between them.

Compared to earlier in the day, back in the shower when he'd went rogue with awkward, fumbling kisses he hadn't been ordered to give, the Soldier this time isn't so clumsy. Rumlow's right in there's still latent training.

Now that the Asset isn't fighting off instability, his muscle memory conflicting with someone struggling to break through fracturing conditioning, he can kiss without slopping against Rumlow's lips, missing entirely, bumping noses, or with the bruising force of a hungry, desperate man. Instead he leans forward, tilts his head and closes his eyes, long lashes dark against his cheeks. His lips press against Rumlow's.

It's surprisingly chaste at first, gentle; he fits perfectly against Rumlow, his breath warm. Since Rumlow's order was open-ended, the Soldier defaults to kissing the way Rumlow likes it: he'll reach out, cupping a cold metal hand against the back of his handler's neck as he shifts forward on the bed, his mouth opening wider to give his handler whatever access he wants and he even moans into Rumlow, like he can't get enough of him.

Rumlow can't deny how good this is as well. There's no rebellion, there's no fight- just exactly what his Soldier is supposed to do.

This big, blue eyes flutter closed, lips pressing in against his own. It's good. It feels like someone who knows what they want and goes for it. His Soldier, going for what he wants and needs without a second thought- even if that thought isn't his own.

The chaste kiss feels like his Soldier is feeling things out. Like he decides to take a chance at what he wants and go for it, licking into his mouth. It's just the way Rumlow likes it, and it urges him forward. He only wanted this kiss, but the Soldier moans into him without prompting, and Rumlow is taken with it.

He can feel his Soldier shift forward on the bed to get closer on him, and it has Rumlow's arms circling his Soldier, dragging him up to stand so he can get closer, hands gripping that firm waist under the gown.

Edited 2025-06-27 08:18 (UTC)

Shifting his body, Rumlow will find that the hospital gown's tied loosely against his asset's body. Even just pulling him up to stand will have some of the knots already slipping, coming undone, the gown loosening to the point where it's really just hanging on by a few ties around the Soldier's neck and arms shoved through the short sleeves. His lower back and ass are completely exposed as the gown falls away and he presses up against his handler. The material's so thin that Rumlow can feel his limp cock hanging down between his thighs, rubbing against the crotch of his pants as he shifts in the other man's strong hold.

For a second a wave of dizziness rocks through his body, the Soldier's lips quivering against Rumlow's for a second before he can lock his knees and ensure he'll still obey that order to kiss like you mean it. Now that he isn't likely to pitch over, he focuses on kissing, his hand stroking lightly along the back of Rumlow's neck, metal thumb tickling against his hairline.

Rumlow seemed to like the moan, so the Soldier does it again, tongue slipping into the warmth of his handler's mouth in slow, leisurely pulses. His other hand settles against the curl of his handler's shoulder, feeling muscle through the thin black shirt he wears. He braces himself against that firmness, in case there's another incident of vertigo that could compromise his ability to keep following Rumlow's orders to his specifications.

Edited 2025-06-27 11:14 (UTC)

This is the kind of thing that takes Rumlow's breath away. It's what keeps him alive and aching for his Soldier. He knows what the Asset is made for, and why he has to go back into cryo so often, but- the times when he's out here in the world are when Rumlow truly feels alive.

He gathers the Soldier against him, glad he doesn't have to do much to loosen the gown. His hands slide down to grip the Soldier's firm ass, fingers digging into the muscled flesh. It feels like his experiment worked, with the way the Soldier responds to him. The eye contact from earlier, the recognition of who he is, the way the Soldier's body seems to crave him at every turn. Even the way his limp cock rubs into him as if it knows what it wants.

His Soldier is impossible to resist, so he figures why not? One more go of it before they can both rest up for the mission ahead. It'll be a big one- which is why he wanted to secure as much of his time here with the Soldier as possible. One more reminder of who the Soldier belongs to can't hurt.

His Soldier moans into his mouth and Rumlow swallows it into another kiss, letting it grow deeper and more possessive as his starts to grind himself against that flaccid cock. He wonders if it'll get hard without the trigger word, so he slides his hand down, ripping the gown off along the way to let it fall aside, then starts palming at him. "You've been such a good pet. I want you to get hard. I'm gonna give it to you good, and I want to hear how much you want it."

He doesn't flinch or vainly try to cover himself up when his handler suddenly grabs a fistful of the thin clothes barely hanging on him, and jerks. The rest of the ties come free, his hospital gown gets pulled off and for the third time in the span of less than 48 hours he's ass naked. The cold air of the VIP cell raises goosebumps along the Soldier's exposed skin, though it's still warm where that rough palm is fondling his cock, fingers teasing against the softness of his balls.

His hand slips away from Rumlow's shoulder. For a second the Soldier's eyes flicker open as he glances downward. For the first time he registers the skin around his wrist is inflamed, weeping a little, red and angry with new wounds rubbed raw where he'd been convulsing against the chair's restraints just a few hours ago. He can't remember how he got them; it doesn't occur to him to ask, to question the how or why or where because Rumlow gave an order.

Right hand drifting further down, the Winter Soldier fits his palm against the back of the other man's hand, tracing a path along his knuckles and fingers until he can grip the heat of his shaft at the base and begin stroking himself into hardness. Sure, it's not as quick as using the trigger word. But maybe it's more enjoyable if he isn't forced, if his body's allowed to do its own thing for a change instead of being subject to an involuntary erection no matter what he's doing, where he's at.

He steadily pumps his hardening shaft from head to base, lips parting. He doesn't need clarification what Rumlow means by give it to you good, today's test wipe imprinting an instinctive need for his handler's cock to be buried inside him even if he isn't in the chair this time and there's no longer the crackle of electricity to drive home Rumlow's lesson.

"Fill me," the Soldier grunts, panting. His cock's steadily hardening with each stroke, with each moment when he rocks forward into Rumlow's palm, trying to rub against the heat of his skin and pin his hand against the crotch of his handler's pants. "A good asset should have a clear mind - fuck me into clarity. No room for distractions."

Rumlow had fucked him stupid with the help of the suppression chair. Now the Soldier, in a way, is asking him to do the same, just the two of them in a room without the chair or the techs or the guards possibly dividing Rumlow's attention, taking it away from him. It's a tall ask, really, to request that his handler try to fuck a super soldier stupid all by himself.

As he speaks, half-hard cock thrusting against Rumlow, the Winter Soldier still has that monotone, face expressionless for the most part even as his breathing hitches and his dead eyes lift to fix on his handler's face.

Edited 2025-06-28 03:35 (UTC)

Now this is something completely different from earlier in that sanitation cell, metal hand forced around the Soldier's cock to painfully jerk himself off. The Soldier is more controlled here, and yet- seems to have almost a life of its own. It's an interesting thing to watch, and Rumlow is eager for it.

The Soldier's hand replaces his own, and so he moves his hands to his own pants instead, undoing them and letting them hang open as he watches the other man get himself hard, just the same as any other flesh and blood man would. Maybe- he thinks to himself- this is better. There's a sense of autonomy here, even when there really isn't any, but Rumlow can easily pretend that part away. It's just him and his Soldier the way he wants, this lips parted and panting for him. In anticipation. Thats the part that gets to Rumlow the most.

The Soldier is anticipating getting closer to him. Getting filled.

Rumlow lets out a low groan, pulling his cock out giving his hardening shaft a few good strokes. When the Soldier rocks toward him, Rumlow makes sure the other man's hand drags along his cock instead, knowing how much he wants it. How much he seems to be craving it.

He leans forward and bites at the Soldier's lower lip, giving it a good tug before he lets go. "You ask so nicely with this dirty mouth of yours. How can I deny you what you want? Undress me, then get on the bed, on all fours." He wants the Soldier to keep talking. To keep telling him what he wants to hear.

He wants to see if the Soldier will keep it up without another command.

Edited 2025-06-28 04:28 (UTC)

Unfortunately, today's wipe test has its limits: with his mind freshly hollowed out by the chair and bound to Rumlow by the trigger sequence, the Winter Soldier doesn't think to keep talking unprompted. He lapses into silence like he usually does even as he pulls away, lip throbbing and red where his handler bit him almost hard enough to draw blood.

He gets to work. Reaching out with both hands, he undresses Rumlow, tugging off his black shirt to reveal the hard lines of his body, old scars dotted here and there across his torso - likely from engagements with hostiles, not that he's been classified to know the details. There's no foreplay, no stolen touches even as his eyes settle on the rosy buds of nipples. The belt and the thigh holster go next, the Soldier bending down to carefully unlace his combat boots, just like he had in the shower. He even starts with the same one. Still kneeling, he finishes up by edging down Rumlow's pants and underwear, the cold metal of his titanium hand gently cupping a thigh or a calf as he helps his handler step out of them until he, too, is as naked as his brainwashed asset.

The order fulfilled, the Soldier moves onto the next one. There's always something especially cold and clinical when he's fresh off a wipe and today's no different: he moves to the bed, mounts it so that he's on his hands and knees, his hard cock jutting, leaking a few drops of precum against the sheets, his ass on display with the fading pink marks where Rumlow had gripped his cheeks tight, and then he stops.

And waits for the next order.

The only difference is instead of his head hanging down or his blue eyes gazing vacantly forward at nothing, as it generally does when he's been wiped, the Winter Soldier has his head shifted slightly, keeping tabs of Rumlow at all times like he can't resist.

There's a strange mix of the Soldier taking on a life of his own here one minute, and then just following blind orders the next. Rumlow is trying to find the difference here- the variation. It's all an experiment though, isn't it, and so far he can't say he's disappointed in the least.

His gaze is steady as the Soldier undresses him, watching for any slight variations. There's need there, there's want, but the orders are to be followed first. Rumlow thinks that maybe less is more, then his Soldier isn't just rushing to completely the mission, but at least he gets undressed quickly enough.

Rumlow doesn't need anything fancy as the Soldier gets on the bed. It's better than the cold, dirty floor. He licks his lips, tilting his head a little as he takes in the sight in front of him, then climbs on the bed as well, his eyes catching the Soldier's. "You stopped telling me how much you want this. I don't like that," he says, then gives the Soldier's ass a good smack, keeping his hand there for maximum pain.

The slap is loud enough to echo in the cell, jolting the Soldier's body forward with a grunt slipping out of him. His ass stings, the muscle quivering with the aftershocks of the hard smack until Rumlow's hand settles against him with his fingers splayed over the impact zone's heat.

It still wasn't a direct order. Usually the Soldier would've kept staring, unfocused, until he received an actual order, a demand; not just a remark, an opinion.

But that was before today's test. Before he'd literally lost his mind again while his handler kept pistoning away in his body. Something now pushes the Soldier to shift his usual approach, a tug in his still throbbing brain as he stares unblinking at his handler and suddenly there's a new thought that maybe he should resume speaking. Revisit previous orders that he'd thought were already complete. Before the wipe he would've looked vaguely confused, maybe even concerned. Now there's that blank wall, his face impassive, the Soldier still staring at Rumlow as he opens his mouth to try again.

"You're unhappy," he points out the obvious, just for the record, and there probably is one because most cells in the facility have cameras spying on any occupants. "I want you to be satisfied. If I'm not operating to your standards, I should be corrected immediately." His ass tightens against Rumlow's hand as if the Soldier's flexing the muscle there. "With prejudice."

He isn't sure if Rumlow will smack him again. Just in case, the Soldier squeezes his ass, tightens the firm muscle there so if he does, it'll hurt even more and drive in the lesson of pain he might wish to impart.

Rumlow believes in his Soldier. He knows he'll get there. He digs his fingers into the flesh of his ass, look unwavering as the Soldier stares back at him.

And then it's as if it all clicks. There's something pushing his Soldier forward. Rumlow's serious, disappointed look shifts almost immediately, a smirk forming on his face now. "Immediately," Rumlow repeats, utterly pleased by not only the words, but the way his Soldier presents himself, his ass practically begging for it as it pushes into his hand.

There's the tight squeeze of muscle against his hand, and Rumlow pulls his hand back and smacks it again, as hard as he can manage, before he grabs the taught flesh and pushes his ass cheek to the side, showing him more of that abused hole. The Soldier heals quickly, of course- but just the same as the dried drool and tears on his face, Rumlow's dried cum is still there.

He grabs the other cheek with his hand, pushing apart as much as he can manage, then spits down onto that reddened hole, sliding his thumb through it. "Tell me how much you want this. Tell me how satisfied you want to make me. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

The second smack's even louder than the first, the red mark against flesh blooming in the shape of Rumlow's hand. It bodily jerks the Soldier forward again, his freshly-brushed hair dangling in his face with the force of the blow shaking free more droplets of precum welling from his hardening shaft. A few more dots stain the rumpled blanket under him.

Since he wasn't told to move, the Winter Soldier remains on his hands and knees with one cheek stinging and pulsing with fresh pain even as his ass gets forced apart and his handler leans forward, and spits into his twitching entrance. When he smears his saliva into it, the Soldier's puckered ring quivers around his slicked thumb. Rumlow must be lubricating him so he can ease his cock in - not for the Soldier's comfort, obviously, but so the handler won't risk hurting himself. The thought that Rumlow could soon be buried inside him has the Soldier groaning, ass twitching.

"I want to be used by you," the Soldier says. Thighs tense, tighten, asshole shining with his handler's saliva. "My purpose is to..." he pauses, not to realize he doesn't know who he is or where he is, like back in the shower, the room with the chair, but come up with something he thinks Rumlow would like to hear. "To make you happy by doing anything."

It takes him a little longer to come up with a specific recommendation; the fact Rumlow asked for it seems to almost surprise the Winter Soldier, even through the fresh wipe scrubbing his mind raw of imperfections.

"...you should sit on my face," the Soldier adds, voice hitching in a soft, breathy gasp. "To instruct on how to use my mouth."

Nevermind it's one of the most vulnerable positions he could be in, pinned with his head trapped. Unaware he's stealing a glance over his shoulder at Rumlow, at his handler's broad shoulders and how tightly his strong hands pull his cheeks apart, his assessment is the other man looks heavy enough, strong enough, to get the job done.

Rumlow waits for the response. He waits for the finality of that sentence, that desire. His purpose is to make him happy by doing anything, and Rumlow practically purrs at the utterance, his finger pressing in against that red, puckered hole.

It's possession, that's all. He wants to use his Soldier in every way possible- to make the man his. Only his.

He wants... to be wanted.

The Soldier's little suggestion is just as nice, though. It has Rumlow's eyebrow raising, a slow smirk forming on his face. "Is that so? I think I can give that to you, sweetheart." He scoots in close behind hid Soldier's ass, grabbing his cock and dragging it along his hole. "Maybe after I fill you up and fuck you into clarity, how about that? Here's your purpose."

He doesn't waste any more time after that. With the Soldier's ass stretched out with one hand, Rumlow guides himself in, pushing past that first ring of muscle before he thrusts in completely, groaning as his hips jerk forward. Once he's gone as deep as he can go, he rolls his hips in a circular motion as if he could get any deeper, fingers digging into the Soldier's skin.

"Is this what you wanted? Do you feel full?"

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.

Rumlow knows the Soldier has barely had time to heal. He can feel it by how loose he still is from their last fuck. There are even still some welts on the Soldier's neck from where the collar from earlier cut into his skin. It's how things always are, though, so he doesn't take much notice. This is the job of the Asset. To perform under any condition, in any way.

The gasp has Rumlow groaning, giving one more small push forward to trap his balls between them, then pulls out completely.

"Put your hand out against the wall to brace yourself. It's gonna take a lot to clear your mind." To fuck his Soldier stupid. When he braces himself, Rumlow grabs at that ass again, spreading his cheeks as he plunges his cock back in, practically growling as he's seated fully inside again.

He doesn't stop this time. Doesn't tease any longer. He sets up a steady rhythm, pistoning deep inside his Soldier with every thrust. "C'mon, sweetheart, talk dirty to me. Tell me how much you love this. How much you wanna be used by me. I wanna hear it."

His hand splayed against the wall and metal fingers curled a little to dig into the concrete, his body rocks with each insistent thrust from Rumlow's cock filling his channel, relentless and thick, the pace just predictable enough that the Soldier can concentrate on forming words instead of just mindlessly groaning at the physical stimulation.

The Soldier tilts his head back, swallowing as he works moisture into his mouth so he can comply.

"Need you - " a grind of Rumlow's head cuts him off, coaxes out a ragged moan. "Fuck me. Make it hurt. You...you said," the Soldier interrupts himself with a gasp hitching in his chest. "Order only comes...through pain...? Teach me."

That's about as far as the Soldier can go on the dirty talk front, still tired, his tortured ass twitching and clenching futilely around the cock spearing him over and over again. Rumlow's merciless in how he drives in deep every time, slamming himself to the hilt with enough force to jolt through the Asset's entire body, his own erection swaying and bobbing. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoes in the small confines of the VIP cell, borderline hypnotic. Even with his arm braced against the wall, the Soldier's wilted a little on the bed; instead of his body being parallel to the bed, he's sagged down, his right arm loosening so that his ass is now higher than his head and shoulders, and the only thing keeping him upright is his left arm, chrome fingers gripping furrows into the wall, and Rumlow's shaft lodged inside him, his handler's strong hands pawing against his tender ass.

Edited 2025-06-29 08:07 (UTC)

Rumlow lets out a curse into his moan as the Soldier speaks up, telling him exactly what he wants to hear. It's so real, so true, Rumlow lets it guide him through this experience- because yes, that's exactly what this is. The experience of having something to fully and completely that it belongs to you.

The Soldier clenches, pulling him in, and Rumlow begins to fuck him relentlessly, as those words die off. "I'll teach you. I'll make sure this is all you know."

That firm, muscled ass pushing up closer to him as the Soldier's body sags down, and Rumlow takes that as an invitation to fuck into him even harder, letting out a series of gasps and moans as the Soldier clenches right around him. He doesn't care about the Soldier's erection, not anymore. He just wants to claim what's his.

"Tighter." He says as he thrusts in, smacking again at his Soldier's ass. "Clench tighter around my dick. Milk me dry. I want you to make sure you get every last fucking drop outta me, you hear?"

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