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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It doesn't take much - Rumlow's all up in his business showing him how it's done, his drawling words hot against his face and then his ear and that tongue, Jesus H Christ, that tongue is sinful how it slicks against his ear over the tingle of his bite, as if to soothe over the sting of Rumlow's teeth. Between Rumlow's hand steadily pumping along his hard-on, hot and throbbing, and the fact that he's rarely ever been allowed to come, and it's almost embarrassingly fast.

James tenses up in Rumlow's hand. His hip drive into that relentless grip with his cock twitching, his head hanging back to rest against the doorframe as his gasps take on a hungry and urgent air. Warmth spills onto Rumlow's finger and hands as he comes with a loud, wanton moan and his fingers curls into claws where he's got his wrist pinned to the doorframe above his head. Oblivious to a few wood splinters coming free, he jerks into Rumlow's hand.

Unlike the last time in HYDRA's shower there's a normal amount of seed: apparently there's a suppressant somewhere in the "vitamins" James is supposed to take every day and so he doesn't soak Rumlow's hand and his sleeve as he quivers to a stop, his chest heaving, forehead beaded with sweat. James sags forward as he struggles to catch his breath, still held upright by Rumlow's fingers circled around his wrist and his knee wedged up between his legs, the thigh of his pants splattered here and there with James' cum.

James drops his head back against the doorframe, and Rumlow knows he's well and truly done for. He lets the other man fuck into his hand, rocking his hips so insistently. It's the only chance he'll get, so Rumlow lets him have it. He looks so goddamn beautiful while doing so- it's hard to ask for anything else.

When James comes, Rumlow smirks and leans in to bite at his neck, not caring in the least what this might seem like. Whatever James wants, he'll let it happen.

And when James slumps forward, Rumlow catches him, squeezing before letting go completely to wrap both his arms around the other man. "You good?"

Pleasure's such a new, strange sensation that he's still trembling with it in Rumlow's arms and without thinking about it, he tries to do the same - wrap his arms around Rumlow's body, hug him to him, never let go. An awkward jolting motion from his left shoulder and its chrome socket before he remembers he can't hug like he used to; James gets his other arm looped around Rumlow from under his ribs so he can cradle the back of his head, fingers splayed against his short-cropped hair.

"Y-yeah," James murmurs into the crook of Rumlow's neck. "More than good."

Rumlow lets him have it. Lets him ride out this orgasm, because why the hell not. It'll feel good, it'll humanize him. It'll help all of this along. Plus- James looks goddamn gorgeous when he's reached his peak. Rumlow isn't going to deny himself of that either.

The surprise is when James curls his arm around him though, drawing him closer with such affection. It's.... different. It's good. Rumlow lets himself have this too.

"Good," he murmurs right back, tilting his head to nuzzle in against James's head, leaving kisses along his neck. He moves a hand to tuck James back into his underwear, not caring about the mess they've made. That is, not until the doorbell goes off, signaling their dinner arrival.

"Shit." Rumlow detaches himself quickly, wiping James' jizz off on his pants. "Stay here, cool off." He commands, then goes to answer the door, grabbing their boxes of pizza and burgers to bring back inside, setting it all down on the dining room table.

Still coming down off his high, thighs quivering a little like they're made of jelly, James leans back against the doorway and nods and even has the presence of mind to offer Rumlow a slightly shaky thumbs-up. He's not sure what he wants more right now: to keep hugging Rumlow to himself or let him go just long enough to get dinner so he can scarf it down his first meal as a man who just got freed from an extended stay at the hospital. Hunger wins out - or, more like, he was told to stay here. A direct order. But -

But that direct order conflicts with the earlier one to "settle in" while he's in this house. Listening to Rumlow trooping downstairs, the front door opening, he wars with the two orders. Stay here? But if he's supposed to make himself at home, why should he wait to be collected like a kid for dinner?

Faced with the conflicting orders, James makes the executive decision to compromise: he doesn't exactly barge into the dining room, instead coming down the flight of stairs with his hand on the banister, waiting on the very last step as he peeks his head around the corner.

"Hey, you need any help? I'm decent now, could grab some drinks or whatever."

Edited (typo -rewording) 2025-07-14 08:55 (UTC)

Rumlow doesn't realize the conflict, doesn't even really think about what he says. It's just an expression really. Something said offhand. Does he really want James to stay there against the doorframe? No.

So he doesn't think much of it when James heads down the stairs either, once he starts setting the food out. In fact, Rumlow wants him to. They're here together. They just had a real damn good time together and now it's time to eat. He glances over briefly, giving James a nod.

"Grab a couple beers from the fridge." James can do that while Rumlow grabs some plates. Pizza, burgers and fries aren't his usual. It's all garbage food. Junk food. They're gonna have a fucking treat tonight. Both of them. "And then come here and grab your food. I ordered a lot."

Just two regular guys hanging out, right? Why the hell not.

Heading into the kitchen James does his best not to immediately glance over at the sink by the window like it's a crime scene. Hard not to, though, when it'd only been a few hours ago since he'd been bent over it with his pants tugged down around his calves, Rumlow so pissed that he'd speared him with his dry fingers and zero prep. Looking at the sink serves as a reminder of how he'd fucked up bad, had thrown his friend's generosity back in his face with his ungratefulness.

Mouth pressed into a line, he veers toward the fridge. Six pack of beer; might as well grab the whole thing. Returning to the dining room he'll find that dinner's laid out and it's a lot - two large pizzas, burgers, fries (curly ones, thick ones, and garlic: Christ, did Rumlow think he was feeding an army?) and paper plates and napkins. Setting the six pack down, James heads over to what looks less like dinner and more like a mini buffet, eyes wide at the dizzying amount of choice Rumlow's presented him.

He waffles for a few seconds, not used to choosing. Mouth watering, James roams from the pizza boxes and opening each one - pepperoni, combo (does he like combo? He can't remember) - and then he'll pull with two fingers at each of the bags with the burgers and fries, giving them a test inhale and unable to help the little heady moan of delight. While he might not cum as much as the Winter Soldier, he still has an enhanced man's appetite.

He starts with a slice from each pizza, a beer, a double cheeseburger, and a handful of garlic fries, once he's figured out where Rumlow's sitting at the table and he can make sure to sit close to him.

"Think I'm gonna food coma after this," James beams, holding the very first slice of pizza he's probably had in decades.

Edited 2025-07-14 11:39 (UTC)

Yeah, so- he might've gone a little overboard, he doesn't care. It's on HYDRA's dime, and they might as well live it up while they're here. They. As if they're a unit. Together. Rumlow doesn't want to entertain the implications of that, so he puts it all in a little box in his head and packs it away.

Maybe it's like the VIP room. His Soldier does what he wants him to do, and he gets rewarded for it. Seems like a perfectly reasonable thing.

Rumlow snags just about the same as James. A slice from each, a burger and some curly fries, then sits with a beer in hand. He smirks when James comes to sit right next to him. Good.

"I know for a fact you haven't eaten any'a this in a real long time, so- take your time, but- enjoy." And he finds that he means it. How about that. He lets himself enjoy it as well, starting with the fries, then the slice of pepperoni. If he ate like this on the regular, he wouldn't be in the shape he's in, so it really is a treat. "What do you think? Like it?"

He shouldn't give a shit if James likes it or not, but he does.

Probably a good thing Rumlow reminds him to take his time, because James? He was about to really dig in and murder his way through his first helping of dinner and move onto his second with extreme prejudice. Keeping Rumlow's advice in mind he goes a little slower even if he demolishes the greasy slice of pepperoni pizza, finishes half the burger before moving onto the garlic fries (which don't stand a chance) and he's soon finishing off the slice of combo pizza, his tongue swiping out to lick a stray trail of grease from his finger.

"It's really good," James says. "Can't remember when the last time I had pizza like this, it's..."

He trails off for a second, that tiny little puzzled line furrowed between his brow as he frowns slightly. His eyes glaze over a bit and he stares down at the pizza boxes stacked on top of each other, maybe on the verge of vague, blurry glimpses of Brooklyn, of pizza with - with...

Giving himself a little shake, he glances sidelong at Rumlow and offers a smile and a shrug and reaches for his beer. The deep cover's programming holds. "I'm sure this's way better. You sure know how to pick 'em."

Slower is good. He doesn't want to deal with a sick Soldier, especially not now. He knows James can adjust, though- and if not, his programming will. Rumlow isn't worried.

"Months ago- last time I was on leave." Rumlow tries to fill in those gaps, even if he doesn't need to. He wants those moments to be in James' head. Did they ever sit around and have pizza like this? No. But this is all that really needs to stay with James.

"I always make sure you're taken care of," Rumlow reminds James. And it's true- maybe even more now than before, considering their situation.

Rumlow jogs his memory. Instead of some indefinite question mark, his words sink their claws into James' vulnerable mind and he nods and goes oh yeah, it was just a few months ago, wasn't it? and doesn't think it's weird that he can't remember where or even what pizza he had, only that he must've had pizza, must've liked it, and Rumlow was clearly there. Finishing off his combo slice, James goes back to his burger and he's got big a mouthful of it when Rumlow says something that's so...so sweet that he glances up, startled. And Rumlow acts like he couldn't get all romantic...

Chew. Swallow. Don't ruin the moment by flashing him with your food like a kid. He even runs his tongue along his teeth before he speaks.

"I know. You've always got my back," James repeating after Rumlow in his own way, reinforcing the obedience pathways that have been steadily carved into his brain. "You're too good for me."

He flashes Rumlow a grin to show that nope, this isn't him getting all maudlin again like the hospital room or the kitchen. They both know it and he's cool with it and he's happy to sit next to Rumlow and pig out over pizza and burgers with the guy.

It doesn't matter what James remembers, because the memories aren't really there. None of them are, except what they want to remain. Rumlow is one of those memories that remains.

The sweetness, though... he doesn't intend to put out there, and yet it is, and James is looking at him in a certain way, and..... Rumlow isnt going to stop it.

"I've got your back." Obedience, not the time to get all maudlin. James is still smiling and eating, and... it'll be alright.

Look at Rumlow, getting all romantic. "Thanks."

James busies himself with snagging another slice of pepperoni before he starts blushing again like he's around some high school crush or whatever. With the deep cover giving him the illusion of choice, he actually glances over at the paper plate where the condiments are instead of just eating whatever he's handed and he experiments by grabbing some packets of grated parmesan and red chili flakes: maybe it's muscle memory or maybe he's only observed someone in HYDRA do this, but he doesn't think twice about dumping some extra cheese and chili onto his pizza as if the thought's his own.

"Might crash after dinner, if that's okay with you," James says. "Been a big day: think I'm getting kinda tired."

Nevermind the Winter Soldier has plenty of experience with sleep deprivation, weeks of experiments with the lights either cranked up or sensory deprivation where he can't see for days on end, and that isn't counting the marathon fucking sessions. Apparently operating under deep cover's almost as exhausting, James not quite at the stage where he's dozing off into his food...but he isn't sure he could handle sucking Rumlow off again without falling asleep with his dick still in his mouth.

Edited 2025-07-16 09:40 (UTC)

Romantic, please. Rumlow swears he doesn't have a romantic bone in his body. Not that he's ever tried. Nothing for him has ever lasted more than a quick fuck.

This- is probably the longest relationship he's ever had.

Rumlow continues eating, watching James try different things. It's good he's taking advantage of it all. He'll probably never have this again. That thought.... it suddenly bothers Rumlow, so he downs his beer and snags another, so he can drown it away.

"Fine with me, yeah. I'll probably watch something on TV for a while, then crash." If he can even sleep. It's been rough lately. Not since the Soldier has been thawed out, though. Funny how that is.

Sounds like a plan.

They finish dinner in mostly silence - comfortable, the kind you fall into when you really know a guy - and while they don't finish everything, they get through most of it (or, more accurately, James finishes most of the pizza). There's no dishes to clean but he gets everything bagged up in the trash, manages to wander outside to look for the rolling trash bin and the fact he remains active while still on Rumlow's property line and that he doesn't run for it? That's all logged by the cameras and by the unmarked van across the street with tinted windows.

Leaving Rumlow to lounge on the couch and the glow of the TV, James heads back to the guest room. At first he'd thought the bed's too soft (too soft compared to what?) - but then exhaustion kicked in because today was a lot and it was light's out for a few hours.

The Soldier doesn't dream, usually. What scraps are there are usually dismissively called "latent hallucinations" by the HYDRA techs and they can be handled by restraining him so he doesn't hurt anyone in his sleep or dosing him with a healthy cocktail of drugs so he's just out cold. Maybe it's an issue with the deep cover programming or maybe it's the fact he's lying in a bed like a person and the cold concrete walls and restraints are missing...but tonight the Soldier has a nightmare.

The memory comes in flashes. Being tied down in a chair. Unable to move. Fear. Quivering, naked skin. He's sweating again - can they smell the fear...?

A man's shadow looming over him. Threatening, no, promising pain. Delivering it. Cold eyes and multiple people watching, but no one does anything to stop it. A burning sensation as brutally something shoves into him, over and over. A snap of electricity, the hum of lightning as it arcs over his head, getting closer and closer -

James jolts awake screaming. He would've made it out the guest room's door if it wasn't for the blankets and sheets getting wrapped around his torso and legs and dumping him onto the floor with a heavy thud. Dazed, sprawled in a tangle of bedding, it takes a few seconds before he realizes where he is. Home away from home. Rumlow's place. He's okay. He's safe. Just a nightmare. Wiping at his eyes, startled to find that he'd been crying, James untangles himself from the blankets. Maybe he should go back to bed. He's already bothered Rumlow enough, he should -

But he's already getting up and heading down the hallway to the master bedroom, following the dim light peeping through gaps in the drawn curtains so he doesn't trip in the dark. The door's cracked open and he pushes it open silently, eyes settling on a shadowy form on the king-sized bed.

"H-hey, could I...come in?" James hovers by the door, feels stupid all of a sudden, and he'll slip inside, heading to the unoccupied side of Rumlow's bed. "I mean, could I sleep in your bed? Just for tonight. I...uh, had a nightmare." That last part comes out in a sheepish rush.

Feeling embarrassed, James keeps his voice low as he prowls closer, coming to a stop next to the bed. There's just enough light peeking through the drawn blinds that he can see the outline of Rumlow's face and upper body, the glint of his dark eyes. He's awake; maybe he heard him screaming?

Rumlow packs the leftovers up, watches as James head up the stairs to the guest room, then sits on the couch and watches TV. He's not really watching, though. He's just letting all of this sink in to the point where he can't stand it anymore and he shuts the Tv off, heading up to bed.

He actually does fall asleep, until he hears it. The screaming- sounding more like the Soldier than James. He's heard those screams before. Is this already the end of it? Are they going to send in an extraction team? He finds himself hoping that they won't. That they'll get this for a little bit longer.

It's why he doesn't flinch at the sight of the--- of James at the doorway of his room. It's why he doesn't get angry or tell him to get the fuck out. Rumlow sighs heavily, shoving his blanket aside, shifting to make room. "Fine. C'mere. Lay down, don't fucking worry about it, alright? Just... C'mon."

The Soldier doesn't have nightmares. Apparently James does.

"What was it about?"

Thank God Rumlow doesn't point out how lame this is.

Relief surging almost strong enough to override the shame, the still fading tendrils of terror clutching at him, James immediately slips underneath the blanket and sheets so he can join Rumlow - if he happens to slide a little closer than normal so that he's almost nestling up against the other man, well, he figures it's fine. Rumlow's seen him drooling and sweating before, every inch of him buck ass naked. A little snuggling doesn't seem like it's that much more vulnerable. Without thinking about it, James settles so he's on his side, facing Rumlow and the dark glimmer of his eyes and his face in shadow, hiding his expression and forcing him to rely only on the rasping gravel of his voice.

For a second James doesn't say anything, just rearranges the pillow under his head as if it still needs rearranging. Now that he's lying with Rumlow in the same bed, the fear from earlier seems...smaller? Like not that important.

"Don't remember much," James says. To his humiliation, his voice wobbles a little, sounds small. "Pain. A chair, I guess? Wanted people to help but no one was, they were just staring and - and..." Angry at how he sounds, how he probably woke Rumlow up between the screaming and falling out of bed and now this, and he reaches out, groping around for Rumlow's hand, twining his callused fingers with his. "It's not a big deal. Just a dream."

Rumlow doesn't point out how lame this is. He remembers a time when he had nightmares too. It was so long ago- another life, it seems. He'd get nightmares so bad he used to hide in the closet to try and escape. He's always be found, but the illusion of safety would sometimes last long enough.

But now he's the one in control. And he's the one deciding if this is lame or not. It isn't.

James curls against him so close that Rumlow has to adjust himself some more. He pulls the blanket and sheets around both of him, letting it all cocoon around them. And then it's there- the nightmare. It hits him like a ton of bricks. The pain, the chair, the way he had watches it happen so many times.

James takes his hand, lacing their fingers, and Rumlow feels sick. He wants to pull away, to tell James to get the fuck out. He wants to grab his hair and slam his head against the wall over and over again until there's nothing but blood and guts painting the wall.

He knows why.

He swallows it down, bringing James's hand to his lips, kissing those fingers, then pulling his arm around him, Rumlow shifts in closer to tangle their legs. "It's not a big deal. Just a dream. It doesn't exist, alright? Only this does. Just you and me. Don't gotta worry about that other shit."

Sharing the bed, wrapped up - no, tucked in - with Rumlow and suddenly he feels much better even if maybe he's still shivering with the aftershocks of the nightmare, which is feeling less and less real by the second compared to the comforting firmness of Rumlow's body nestled against his and the warmth of his lips teasing against his fingers and knuckles. Stubble tickles against skin.

Rumlow's right. Just a dream, it's not like it can really hurt him. If anything, he should be glad he wasn't sharing the bed earlier or he could've risked punching Rumlow in the face when he was unconsciously flailing around.

"Yeah..." James presses in close, facing Rumlow, and he'll curl himself in so he can rest his face against the warmth of the other man's chest through his loose t-shirt. Big inhale. Fingers squeeze against Rumlow's, seeking reassurance, his familiar, comforting strength. Rumlow says it's not a big deal, so it isn't, he says it doesn't exist, so, obviously, it doesn't. It can't.

Exhausted by today, it doesn't take long for James to fall asleep again now that he feels better, feels safe. His breathing shallows out, grows even. His body relaxes against Rumlow with his legs still caught up in his, arm growing slack where he rests against the other man's body in a one-sided hug.

Edited 2025-07-17 10:23 (UTC)

He wonders if this is gonna be a thing now. Nightmares, night after night. Memories. How much longer till James sees his face in them? Will he ever? Rumlow can't even begin to know. If that happens, maybe he'll be completely fucked. He's frustrated with himself about how much he actually gives a shit about it.

He shouldn't. He hasn't gotten this far by giving a shit about anything else but the mission.

Right now, his mission is curled up in bed with him- practically clinging, because Rumlow is letting him. Encouraging it. This is what he wanted though, isn't it? James to want him, to need him, to be dependent on him. To know that he's the only one who can give him what he needs. His Soldier. It's why Rumlow gives into it, squeezing James' hand, his other sliding through long brown strands that are clean for once. He keeps himself awake until he can tell that James has settled and has fallen back asleep, and then he drifts off as well, hoping there are no more nightmares.

There aren't any, cause when Rumlow wakes to the sun streaming in through the shades, James is still fully pressed against him like a little spoon, having dragged Rumlow's arm around his middle and against his chest. It's.... not so bad waking up like this, really. It's different. Well, aside from the raging hardon trapped in his briefs, pressing against James's ass. Fuck, it would feel real good to be inside of him right now. He knows he can't just shove in like usual, though. He's gotta take his time and not freak James out. It's an exercise in patience, Rumlow tells himself.

Rolling his eyes, he shifts away for a moment, grabbing some lube from the nightstand, he coats up his fingers, then slowly and carefully snags the waistband of James' boxers and tugs them down off his ass. He's slow about sliding his finger down between those cheeks as well, teasing over his hole as he watches James' face to make sure he isn't gonna wake up just yet.

Even despite the nightmare James has a good night's sleep - he's out cold, falling into a comfortably dreamless chasm where there isn't any pain and he's safe and secure and nothing and no one can hurt him.

Rumlow's with him, after all.

It's why he doesn't wake up when dawn comes and the bedroom lightens and thin shafts of light filter in through gaps in the blinds to fall across the bed and his face propped up on the pillow, lashes dark against his cheek as he faces away from Rumlow, still curled up on his side. He doesn't bolt awake when Rumlow pulls his arm away from where it'd been slung around his chest and the other man sits up, jostling the bed when he lubes his fingers. Doesn't shift when slowly, carefully, his boxers are pulled down so they're around his thighs and the hard curves of his ass are exposed, glistening in places where Rumlow's lubed up fingers grazed against skin while he edged down his underwear.

So far he's compliant, still deeply asleep even as Rumlow's finger traces down from the divot of his ass and pushes through his cheeks down to his entrance, the ring slicking. Nothing out of the ordinary for James; he's had a lot of play down there and even as the Winter Soldier, getting felt up when he was semi-conscious or straight-up unconscious, like now, is about par for the course.

Glancing over at James' face will show that it's still relaxed, his lips slightly parted with soft, unhurried breaths that indicate that he's still asleep and unaware and available to be Rumlow's plaything. Given all the times that Rumlow's seen him unconscious, it's probably the most relaxed he's ever looked lying before him like this. The chrome socket where his prosthetic arm usually is gleams in the morning light, his good arm folded underneath him and propping up the pillow.

Edited (typo) 2025-07-17 21:46 (UTC)

His Soldier, always so compliant. Looking downright peaceful as he sleeps through Rumlow pushing a finger in nice and slow. He doesn't want James waking in fear. He wants him to wake feeling.... good. Or at least wanted, with Rumlow buried deep inside of him. So to get there he has to go slow with this, stretching him, for once. Rumlow wants to get him nice and wet, easy to slip into.

Rumlow can't help but get a good look at him like this. Even without the prosthetic, James looks strong- all hard muscles and lean lines. Rumlow knows that he could be crushed easily by this man. Being in control of all that strength only makes him feel more powerful.

He adds another finger soon enough, stretching him out, working him open, adding more lube. This is what he wants James to dream about. Not those bullshit memories last night.

It's not long till his own cock is leaking, and he's getting impatient as it strains against his underwear. This is the best it's gonna get, and James still hasn't stirred. His subconscious is probably used to this by now- especially with Rumlow at the helm. He only shifts away long enough to finally free himself, shoving his briefs down, then lubes himself up and pushes James's asscheeks open as he slides the head of his cock along that loosened up hole. He groans quietly, then rocks his hips forward, pushing inside. James is still so damn tight, but so much more pliant when he's asleep like this. It's easy to rock forward and bury himself deep inside the other man, pressing flush against his back.

He isn't having full-fledged dreams, exactly. But he seems to be enjoying it, as much as an asleep man can enjoy anything, his face tightening for a moment as Rumlow's head pushes past that ring of muscle and he'll relax with a faint sigh as he's slowly filled with the other man's familiar, comforting heat stuffing him from head to hilt.

Slicked inside and out, a little bit of excess dribbling along his valley to drip onto the sheets, James is easier than normal to enter. The last time had been the chair - the nightmare - but then he'd been busy having his brain fried and even when he'd gone limp on Rumlow, the kind of full body limp you go when your body simply gives out, it hadn't been like this. There had been a tension quivering in his unresistant frame as Rumlow had pounded his tortured ass still restrained to the chair; a general stink of animal terror and sweat and hopelessness hanging like a miasma cloud over the Winter Soldier. Now?

It's just the glow of the sun cutting through the blinds to soften the harsh lines of James' sleeping face, warming against his dark lashes and plush lips. His breath hitches slightly before he settles and relaxes into the pillow as if he could sink into the mattress. The room's quiet, broken only by the rustle of the bedding and the low, languid groan from Rumlow. It's just the two of them - at least on the surface, because there's still the glint of HYDRA's surveillance cameras in the corners of the rooms, drilled into the ceiling so that the red dot of the recording lights and their lens are just pinpricks. The only visual privacy Rumlow would get is if he keeps the blankets on.

But compared to the base - with its old legacy facilities, the rust and cracked concrete, the beeping of machinery - and this is a resort in comparison, right down to Rumlow getting exclusive access to its amnesties. Still lying on his side in a fetal position, filled to the brim with Rumlow's cock, James won't wake up once he starts thrusting: there's no accusing stare or fear or, maybe even worse, that blank, dead-eyed look the Soldier would get as if Rumlow's just another cock like all the others he has to ride out.

Rumlow is slow- tilted against James enough so he can watch his face, keep his eyes on the other man for any signs of waking. So far it's just little things here and there, and that gets Rumlow to smirk.

He lays a hand on James's bare hip, fingers curling into skin just enough to give him leverage as he slides almost completely out, then back in again, biting his lip to keep from moaning. James is so relaxed- it's a damn good feeling. The slowness of it is nice as well, as he slowly starts to set up a rhythm, rocking against the other man's body.

He doesn't care who's watching. He doesn't even think about that right now. All he's thinking is that this is a fucking brilliant way to wake up, all that tight heat around his cock as he thrusts in again. Rumlow wouldn't mind if it James started to wake up now so he could join in.

It's why he slides his hand down between James's legs, fondling his cock as well, wanting that arousal to start wake him. He nuzzles into the back of James's neck now, letting out a soft moan as he thrusts a little harder, deeper, jostling James's body a little more now.

He doesn't get fully rolled over onto his belly between Rumlow leaning over him and gripping his naked hip and slowly thrusting into him; mostly James gets tilted a little bit so his face is pressed into the pillow, lips parted further by its filling pushing against his nose and mouth, a few strands of his hair cutting across his face, no longer the disheveled tangles from before.

A feather soft, moan-like sigh. He doesn't start to show more signs of awareness until Rumlow's picked up the pace hard enough to jog his mostly-clothed body against the mattress, his head deeper into the pillow he's half-buried in, little squelches from the lube and his hot shaft driving in and out of James's pliant ass. His cock had been soft behind the fabric of his boxers. But it's like his body instinctively recognizes Rumlow's specific touch, understands that he should be hard if and when he wants, and it doesn't take long to start staining his underwear with precum. Arousal tightens in his groin, his balls, cock semi-hard in Rumlow's wandering hand.

Still in that semiconscious state, James groans a little louder then before, his hand shifting under his pillow. His visible eye flutters, disoriented, unaware of where he is but he doesn't flail, doesn't panic. His body rocks forward with each thrust filling his body, filling the ruins of his mind so that all's well.

"Wha...?" His voice husky and quiet, James's dark head turns almost drunkenly against the pillow, lifting slightly as he blinks in a foggy daze.

TABOO meme

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