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 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?"

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.

He's gonna fuck his Soldier stupid, he swears it. He's already half way there. Nothing else will exist but this, but him. Much like the Soldier, it's Rumlow's only thought as well. The two of them, existing for each other. In Rumlow's head it's a beautiful thing.

He moans loudly as the Soldier's body clenches tighter around his cock, pulling him in- as if he isn't deep enough already, blotchy red ass cheeks pressing up even more as the Soldier's body arches downward. It's acceptance, it's allowance, and Rumlow takes. If the Soldier squeezes tighter, Rumlow doesn't mind. The pain is all a part of the pleasure. He still has fresh bite marks on his shoulder to prove it.

"You're mine. You're mine." It's a statement as much as an order- something he wants to drill into that empty head. He wants to fill it up with himself, inside and out. He grabs at the Soldier's hair, yanking his head back to drive that thought home.

The sound that motion pulls from his Soldier pushes him over the end he gives one final thrust into the pliant body, grabbing on tight to his ass as he comes, spilling deep into the Soldier's hole for the third time today.

It's too bad there's no mirror - if there had been Rumlow would've had a great view of the Soldier's ass in the air, his head and neck bent back to where it has to be agonizing, the Asset's saliva-slicked mouth hanging open as he gasps and whines blindly with hitching breaths, eyes rolled up until there's only a hint of glassy blue.

Mostly he's awash in pain, muscles tight with it from how far he's bent back by that handful of hair, his body rocking with each merciless thrust pounding him into the bed. Sometimes it might seem like he's on the edge of graying out, still weakened from the wipe, his face going slack and senseless only for Rumlow to slam into his prostate and drag him back. When that happens, the Soldier's face scrunches a little, features tightening with the wave of pleasure. Blinking, he'll unconsciously tug back against Rumlow's fistful of hair for a moment or two before another thrust, another drive of his handler's cock from head to balls has him going limp with a kind of mute acceptance and his face goes slack again.

Pain, mostly. A few jarring moments of pleasure. The constant is Rumlow's rasping voice growling behind him, reminding him of his place in HYDRA, who, exactly, he belongs to and will always belong to.

He barely feels Rumlow flood into him, that warmth claiming his twitching ass. Bent back, a feeble moan edges between the Soldier's lips as he shudders around Rumlow's cock pulsing into him, still trying to comply and clench, to milk him as ordered of every drop so that when he eventually pulls free, there won't be any excess dripping from him.

It really is too bad there's no mirror, Rumlow would love to get a full view of that. Watching his Soldier's ass clenching around him as he plows into him is good enough, though.

His spent cock twitches inside the Soldier for a moment longer before he's pulling out with a wet sound, groaning as he does so. He lets go of the Soldier' hair, dragging his hands down the other man's back, then gives his ass one last smack.

"Did that clear things up for you, Soldier?" Cum drips from the Soldier's abused hole and Rumlow drags his fingers through it, pushing it back in. Maybe next time he'll get a plug to keep all his seed inside. To make sure the Soldier is unable to forget him in more ways than one.

The Soldier's so out of it, so disoriented, that when Rumlow suddenly releases his hair he doesn't try to catch himself; instead he slumps forward, head hitting the pillow as he wheezes into the fabric and when that slap jiggles his reddening ass, he only gives a spent grunt instead of tightening the sore muscle in case there's a second one incoming.

It takes awhile for the Soldier regain enough awareness where he can shift himself up from where he's collapsed forward, the puckered ring of his ass quivering, shining with spit and sweat and the pearly gloss of cum as the muscle trembles around Rumlow's fingers helpfully inserting themselves back so he doesn't fail that order to keep every drop inside.

A few seconds later, the Soldier's head shifts against the pillow, his dark hair fanning as he twists his face sideways. Movements sluggish, he manages to get his right arm under him. Lifting his head drags out a woozy groan. Rumlow was speaking. Saying something. Asking him something? For those few seconds when he'd been fucked into thoughtlessness, he'd felt empty of everything but the sound of his handler's voice, tight with pleasure, and he'd floated in a kind of void where he didn't have to do anything but lie there with a powerful cock filling him, its hypnotic rhythm stealing away any thoughts. All he needed was his handler.

Wetting his lips, the Soldier unknowingly compliments Rumlow: instead of immediately bouncing back with a reply, the Asset manages to only slur a dazed "what?".

There's silence for a while after the slap rings out in the nearly empty room. Rumlow's words hang in the air as well, mixed with heavy breathing. He tilts his head, watching his Soldier try to situate himself again, a groan leaving his lips. He looks sluggish, worn.

It's only after a moment that the Soldier speaks up again, and it makes Rumlow smirk, feeling triumphant. Nice and clear, head empty. Nothing left but him.

He lets out a soft laugh, pushing at the Soldier's ass to make him fall over, then gives his next instruction. No, he's not done with his pet just yet. "Move onto your back. That's right, take a deep breath. Relax a little." It's not lost on him that the Soldier is still fully hard, beads of precum still clinging to the head of his cock. Rumlow ignores it, straddling the Soldier's body once he's on his back, shifting up on his knees till his spent and sticky cock is aligned with the Soldier's face.

"You wanted to show me what your mouth could do, yeah? So make sure my dick is nice and clean." Rumlow's hand is back in the Soldier' hair, caressing.

It's clumsy and slow, the Soldier managing to flop onto his back, one leg bent, his metal arm curled over his head as if he'd been about use it as a pillow. It's an unconsciously sensual display with his chest still heaving with a fresh sheen of sweat, his hard shaft bobbing with the motion and dribbling pearls of precum against his groin and stomach.

The Soldier blinks mutely up at Rumlow, watching as his handler mounts him so that he blocks out the light spilling through the cell's tiny window and onto the bed, his softening cock swinging until it's hanging over him almost close enough to tease against his face, his parted lips. The Soldier's still good and fucked, the expression on his face one of vacant confusion as it takes longer than normal to usual to process Rumlow's new order.

With his head propped up by the pillow the Soldier complies as he always does...even if it's maybe not with his usual efficiency, because his right hand comes up, his fingers lightly bumping against the hard muscle of Rumlow's thigh before he manages follow it up to the V of his waist and then, finally, he locates his dick. Guiding clumsily it to his lips, his grip's loose and when he opens his mouth and tries to run his tongue along the shaft, he actually misses. The heat of Rumlow's shaft rubs its sticky length against his cheek instead of inserting itself into his waiting mouth.

It takes another attempt before he succeeds, the Soldier sloppily lapping at his handler's cock, trying to clean it to spec, his coordination shot because Rumlow fucked it out of him.

It's a beautiful display. One that Rumlow won't soon forget. He takes it in, letting his gaze drag along the hard, sweaty lines of the Soldier's muscles. Even with how poorly HYDRA treats him, he still maintains this glorious look. It's as if his Soldier was made for this.

Rumlow doesn't mind the muted look or the disorientation. It just means he did he job, he got what he wanted. His Soldier is in a plank, pliable state. The slowness of it all feels languid, sensual. Rumlow can imagine this like a lover does, after being fully sated. Both of them in the right state of mind.

"There you go," Rumlow practically coos, all the hardness and force fucked out of him too, it seems. His hand moves to the Soldier's face, caressing it lightly as the other man is finally able to slide his tongue along his softening cock. It's still warm, inviting, very thorough as he laps up the mess he made. "You're so lucky to have all of this. You're so goddamn lucky I take care of you so well. Say thank you, and finish cleaning me off."

Rumlow handles all the thinking, all the planning, so an asset doesn't have to. It's a lot to ask of a man. A lot of work. And yet Rumlow's doing all this for an asset like him. Unaware what he's feeling is a dull kind of gratitude swelling toward his handler, the Winter Soldier does his best to lick him clean even with his head swimming, an emptiness howling in his mind and aching in his just-vacated ass.

The Soldier manages to mumble a "thank you", as ordered, the two words muffled because he slurs them into the base of his handler's shaft. In his semiconscious state, the Soldier probably takes longer than needed to lick Rumlow clean, mouthing and suckling at his semi-flaccid shaft instead of lapping at it, kissing out of some ingrained habit instead of swirling his tongue along the crown of his head. Eventually he gets there.

Every square centimeter of Rumlow's cock gets licked clean, glistening with the Soldier's saliva. The order complete, he sags back against the pillow, gazing up at his handler through half-open eyes, pale blue peeking through his dark lashes. Rumlow says he's lucky and taken care of and he must be right, because he's his handler and handlers are always right. At this point, dazed, well and truly fucked, and the Winter Soldier's the perfect plaything.

Rumlow groans, a content feeling pooling in his stomach as his soldier cleans him up. That tongue is just as warm, just as thorough now as it's always been- and yet there's something just slightly different here too. The need to please isn't just this blank thing. There's a hint of reverence in those dazed blue eyes.

His Soldier can take as long as he wants, Rumlow is fully satisfied, watching him lap up every last bit of sticky cum. There are moments when it's almost too much, the soldier suckling at him, but he knows how to make his handler feel good and he doesn't need to stop.

"Such a good boy..." Rumlow smile as the Soldier's head falls back against the pillow. Those half lidded blue eyes look at him, and Rumlow can't even push the thought away. His Soldier is beautiful, perfect. No one is as lucky as he is.

"Who do you belong to, Soldier?"

Good. Since an asset can't want anything, he can't want to be good, but he should always be good for his hardworking handler who has arranged time in his busy schedule to instruct him even though he must have other things to do. Rumlow must be exhausted having to deal with him, and that isn't accounting for any other assets, any other assignments he has to juggle, too.

The Soldier gazes up at his handler, expression empty as his mind, his lips tinged pink and a little swollen with how hard he'd been suckling against the heat of his shaft.

"You," he says dully, and the words come easy. "I'm your asset."

Without further orders he's left to go limp into the bed because he can't remember how to relax, the Soldier's hair forming a dark halo around his head against the pillow's cotton as he gazes through fluttering eyelashes at his handler. He's on display, ready, waiting, for the next input. His chest rises and falls, taut muscle, the peaks of his rosy nipples, his legs unconsciously spreading a little against the bed, and maybe his ass is still twitching, still quivering, as if still trying to clamp down on Rumlow's cock even though it's currently still hanging in front of his face, shining with his drool and licked clean of cum.

"That's right, sweetheart." The words are kind, but the look on Rumlow's face is anything but. He's gloating, really. He's satisfied. Having control over the Asset is no small thing, not in the way he has control. Sure, any other handler can come along, but it won't be like this.

He drags his thumb along those wet, pink lips, just looking down at his prize. His possession.

"We've had a real long day, and I think I'm finally spent." He can feel exhaustion pulling at him too. He really was hard at work today. "Enjoy your new digs while you've got em. You're lucky enough to sleep on a bed tonight."

Rumlow lifts himself off of the Soldier's body, standing up. He lets his gaze rake across sweat slicked, quivering skin. Tomorrow there will be orders for a new mission. Right now there's just this. "Go to sleep." It's an order he's sure the Soldier will fall into easily, looking as fucked out as he does right now.

It's easy to obey Rumlow's order to rest. Exhausted in body and mind, ass quivering, brain raw and feeling loose and liquid and about to seep out through his fingers, and the Soldier eventually goes limp in his bed, dull blue eyes drifting shut, curled on his side in a fetal position on a bed he'd never have been given if it wasn't for Rumlow's soft spot for him.

Tomorrow he wakes up a new man. Literally.

Taken from the VIP cell, pumped full of a cocktail of new, experimental drugs and then reprogrammed, the Winter Soldier will eventually be transferred to a gurney in one of the patient wards on the ground level reserved for normal recruits. With a thin blanket draped over him, his dark hair spread on a pillow as he sleeps off the sedatives, he looks...normal. The medical gown's been replaced so that he's allowed to be dressed, to have the illusion of privacy when he wakes up and his new, improved deep cover mode will be activated as soon as he sets eyes on Rumlow.

It's almost noon when Rumlow's allowed to enter the patient room.

At first the Soldier will be sitting up in bed, his right hand resting on his thigh over the blanket, his left missing so there's only the chrome socket where titanium meets flesh, and he'll be gazing at nothing with that thousand yard stare he gets when he's fresh off a wipe and there's no one home in his fried skull. It's only when the locks disengage with loud thunks and the door opens that his head turns. Dull blue eyes lock on the man framed in the doorway.

Awareness suddenly floods into them. The Soldier becomes animated for the first time in years, the deep cover flawlessly activating as he makes a visual with Rumlow, and now he'll think he's "James" instead of a nameless shell of a man.

"Finally decided to visit, huh?" James smirks. "Took me losing my arm to drag you back from wherever you got posted this time."

He reaches up to slap his palm against where the prosthetic's supposed to be. Unaware he's had that metal arm for decades, James thinks he's just getting one for the first time, that he got lucky out of all the others to get some fancy tech that's supposed to be as good as the flesh one he'd just lost.

Rumlow is given the full debriefing on what exactly it is they're going to do here. He knows it top to bottom, same as he always does- but even then, coming face to face with it is shocking. This mission will be a tough one.

He knows the Asset will only be activated by his presence. He takes a deep breath, then heads inside, trying not to react to what he sees in front of him. He's a professional, he knows exactly what to do, so he smiles as his Soldier- James comes to life. Rumlow's surprised they even attempted to use that name, seeing as how violently they shocked it out of him. He wonders if the person this empty shell used to be was anything like this man sitting in front of him with a smirk on his face, but he pushes that thought away.

There's no room for that here.

"Came as soon as I could. You know I'd rather be here anyway." He comes over, tilting his head to the side eying James's face. So much expression, so much emotion, and yet- still an empty shell. He has to keep reminding himself of that. "How're you feeling?"

It's a weird thing, shrugging with only one shoulder.

"Surviving," James says, trying to ignore the phantom sensation of his missing arm. Hopefully Rumlow can't see the cracks in his grin. "Kinda hurts here," he waves at the titanium socket where all the fancy people in the lab coats said the prosthetic will go once it's ready. "Look, enough about me. Came all this way to visit, you gotta be hungry. Help me finish this off?"

He reaches over to pull the bedside table closer, swinging the platform so it'll be over his knees and Rumlow can reach it if he joins him and takes a seat next to the gurney. Lunch is on a plastic tray, plastic everything from the plates to the covers, and on an actual table: the height of luxury for the Winter Soldier, who almost never gets to eat like a normal person. Now "James" is lifting each cover, sniffing, unaware of how rare this is. As hospital food goes, it's about average, he guesses. Something that's meat loaf and gravy, salad, vegetable soup with Saltine crackers. Carrot cake (ugh). Little cup of vitamins to take with the meal. Juice and milk and water (why all three?).

All of it far better than anything he's been allowed even just twenty four hours ago.

James pushes the carrot cake toward Rumlow with a nudge of his elbow, not exactly making it a secret he's trying to use him like a raccoon and eat the food he doesn't want.

"Surviving, huh. You're lucky you're alive," he can't help but say. As if losing his arm is some small thing. But either way, the Soldier should be grateful. James. He has to get that in his head. He has to play his part to perfection here too.

This is a test for the Asset, to make sure he'll perform optimally under these new conditions.

"I'm sure they'll give you somethin' more for the pain." Because that's what normal people would do, right? Rumlow watches James' face, observing it in the same sort of way he did last night, when his flaccid cock was dragged out of his mouth after cleaning. "I ain't all that hungry. I ate on the way over. You need to eat all of this to keep your strength up."

Rumlow comes over anyway, sitting down next to the gurney, taking a look at the carrot cake before he pushes it back. "Eat it.... but go slow, I don't know how that meatloaf is gonna sit in your stomach."

It's far too rich, considering what they've given the Soldier before this.

Rumlow's right, he guesses. Considering he can't even remember how he lost his arm, the incident must've been real bad - bad enough that maybe he's lucky all he lost was just a single limb. Guy has a way of putting it into perspective.

Grunting an "uh huh" under his breath, James reaches for the carrot cake without thinking about it, his nose crinkling at the idea he'll have to choke it down instead of making Rumlow his human garbage disposal...but annoyingly enough, Rumlow's right there too. Calories are calories and he needs that to heal. Anyway, the hospital's probably got this whole meal plan optimized for nutritional value. Sighing, James leans back against his pillows, struggling to unwrap the plastic-wrap around his cutlery because for all the detail HYDRA put into this exercise, someone forgot that he'll be one-handed for it and that he'll actually be eating like a normal person.

Still fighting with the plastic utensil bag, James resorts to clamping it between his teeth, speaking out the corner of his mouth that's been wiped clean of any drool or Rumlow's cum from the other day. "How long are you staying? They said I could leave today with the right clearance, so..."

Does James sound hopeful? So sue him, maybe he does. He hasn't seen Rumlow in forever, they've got serious catching up to do, and maybe he's getting stir-crazy lying in bed when he feels like he could stand. If anyone could pull some strings, get him an early discharge, it'd be Rumlow. Besides...he doesn't want Rumlow looking at him like he'd break just because he scarfed down some meat loaf.

It's hard not to give James orders. He's so used to it now, especially when the Asset relies on them entirely. It's strange seeing him function in this way. James seems to be doing what he needs to do and acts on his own, even if he's subconsciously following Rumlow's order. So far, so good.

The carrot cake gets pulled back to James, and he goes for the utensils as well- Rumlow watches him struggle. He isn't going to help. He wants to see just how far he'll go to figure it out- on his ownL. It truly is incredible.

"I'm staying for a while. I pulled some strings and got myself some leave." He sits back, smirking a little, crossing his legs out in front of them. "Got 'em to agree to let you out in my care, too."

Rumlow isn't looking at him like that- not at all. He's looking at him with this sort of awe. To see hope in those eyes, in that tone- jesus christ. It's something else. It's like a tamed wild animal being let off its leash- and it just sits. "Just don't expect me to be givin' you sponge baths, or shit like that."

With a muffled hiss of triumph James finally gets the utensil bag torn open. Spitting out the triangle of plastic, he dumps out the cutlery onto his lunch tray, head lifting as he flicks up a glance at Rumlow and the other guy's got that familiar, smug look on his face. The one that says he knows he's the cavalry here to save his ass, once again. Like he doesn't already owe him for the other million plus times.

He's just glad Rumlow's here at all.

"Okay, since I'm in your care," James cuts off a (small) bite of meatloaf, popping it into his mouth, "wouldn't helping clean me fall under that? Can't get everywhere one-handed..."

Look, it's hard to look flirty when you're laid up in a hospital bed with a pair of loose-fitting scrubs that smell like disinfectants and wearing disposable mesh underwear. James still makes an attempt. Dipping his head, licking the tines of his plastic fork clean with his tongue lingering just long enough to make his point, he glances up through his lashes and crosses his fingers he won't get laughed at. Rumlow's busy, he gets it. Badass workaholic. STRIKE team and all that. But he's also on leave and that means his schedule's suddenly cleared up.

Edited 2025-07-03 03:01 (UTC)

Rumlow just sits back and watches as if it were a show. His favorite show, it seems. It's fucking unreal.

Is that flirting? Jesus christ. The Winter Soldier is flirting. Rumlow licks his lips as he watches that tongue clean off the fork in the same way he cleaned his dick last night- and so of course he takes the bait. How can he not with that tone in James' voice. It's like nothing he's ever heard before- and it's directed at him.

It's not just some small moment of clarity and rebellion. This is part of James' personality. His wants and needs. Rumlow is really in there. It's goddamn exhilarating.

"Maybe if you ask real nicely, sweetheart." Rumlow has called the Soldier that pet name many times before- but it was always in a much darker kind of way. Maybe it is now too, knowing that he can get away with it in a whole different context.

Sweetheart. It's a word he's heard purred in his ear, drawled sarcastically or dripping with possession as Rumlow pounds him in the ass or mouth and yet you wouldn't know it from the pleasantly surprised look on James' face. It's a completely different level of vulnerable compared to when he gets wiped in the chair or fucked stupid by his handler. Hearing him get called that has him blushing for a second, eyes averting.

"Well, uh, I can think of all kinds of ways to ask nicely," James recovers with a lop-sided smile, reserved just for the man sitting at his bedside. "How about I thank you properly after I'm free? Then I'm all yours."

He waves the fork at the four corners of his patient room - downright luxurious compared to the dismal quarters an asset gets, which is generally cold concrete walls and a floor for a bed - and then he pauses to tackle the rest of his lunch. He eats slowly, like Rumlow suggested, and maybe it's a good thing he listened to his advice after all because halfway through his stomach's gurgling a little, twisting and clenching on food he's not used to. It's slow going, James trying and failing to resist the urge to sneak glances at Rumlow lounging next to his bed, so close he could touch him, could run his hand across the dark stubble along his jaw.

Washing his vitamins down with a few sips of water, James eventually gets ready to tackle the carrot cake.

"You...sure you don't want a piece of the action?" James gestures at the slice. C'mon, Rumlow. He thought you were his best friend. Friends help friends bury bodies and dispose of the grossness that's carrot cake.

Rumlow can practically feel his heart drop into his stomach at that blush. That shy, vulnerable look that seems all too real, and- maybe it is. There's gotta be something of James here to be able to pull this off, right? They didn't program every word, every action into him. He's acting on his own, in a way, and so this? This is all James alone.

It's a dangerous thought to have, but Rumlow doesn't care. He doesn't care because the other dangerous thought he has is even louder- that he likes this sweetness, and he shouldn't. He's not this kind of guy.

He's never had love before. Just roughness and possession. It's all he remembers from when he was younger, too.

"You are all mine." His Soldier remembers. "Sounds like a good deal."

A quiet settles over them as James eats, and it's alright. James' brain is getting used to this programming, and Rumlow is getting used to this new James. He even chuckles softly when the carrot cake becomes the topic again. "Yeah, I'll help you out. Take one bite, though- you haven't had cake in a long time. I want you to at least try it, and I'll have the rest if you don't want it after that."

Ugh. Too soft. He doesn't give a shit.

He could point out that he technically isn't Rumlow's yet because he's still stuck in the hospital bed but one look at the other man and whatever smartass thing James planned to say fizzles. The way Rumlow has a little growl when he talks like that? It sends a shiver of anticipation up his spine, his hand tightening around his fork. All the more reason to behave, so he can get the hell outta without the doctors and nurses hovering over him like he'll shatter. If anyone's gonna do any hovering, he'd rather it be Rumlow and he'd rather the guy was wearing a lot less clothes while doing it.

James pauses at the suggestion, frowning a little. It's just one bite. It's not like he has to commit to the whole thing.

"Okay, fine."

Sighing, he cuts off a bite of the carrot cake, eyeballs it, and with his eyes on Rumlow like he's establishing dominance by seeing who blinks first, he closes his lips around the fork and chews. Almost immediately his nose crinkles in distaste, although he chews and swallows before giving that awkward, one-sided shrug. The carrot cake gets nudged back toward Rumlow.

"All yours."

Rumlow actually laughs when James' nose crinkles at the bite of carrot cake. Even after all this time- not having sweets or delicacies or cake for decades, the Soldier pushes it away. If he only know.

He pulls it closer to himself, snagging the fork and digs into a generous bite. "Alright, alright. You did your part. At least you tried." Making his own decision, as minuscule as it might be. It's all that's needed for this mission.

"You done with the rest of your food? Can I talk to 'em about getting you the hell outta here?" Rumlow's more than eager now, wanting to see just how far he can push this. It's good. Real good.

TABOO meme

How to Play

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timeskip to Deep Cover Bucky :D

:D

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