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 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.

"It's alright, sweetheart- I've got you," Rumlow practically purrs into James's ear as he starts waking, shifting his head, his body. Rumlow tightens his grip on James's growing erection and strokes more insistently, wanting to distract him with the pleasure he knows the other man can feel, if he just lets himself.

That groan he pulls from James goes straight to his cock, and now that he's more awake, Rumlow thrusts a little deeper, a little more insistently. It's possessive, but also caring in a way he hasn't been before.

"Just let me fill you up. It's the best way to wake up." Rumlow shifts his hips, pressing a leg up against James's, trying to hit that sweet, sensitive spot inside of him so that James knows what true pleasure feels like. He wants it to come from him.

Disoriented and barely conscious enough to form actual thought, James defaults to what feels instinctive and right: he lets Rumlow do what he wants with him however he wants, because he ordered him to do it and it's easier to follow and obey than it is to think. There's another quietly confused sound as his body jolts with each insistent thrust, a familiar voice rasping against his ear.

The pleasure of a good night's sleep has steadily evolved into something more carnal, radiating out in waves matching each snap of Rumlow's hips.

He's been fucked a lot, but most people don't purposefully aim for his prostate. Pleasure for the Soldier is generally avoided if not outright forbidden, but Rumlow's a special case, a high-ranking handler who..well, he understands you can't drive in pain's lessons without pleasure to highlight them. Even semiconscious and still waking up, body moving sluggishly, James is still caught by surprise when he's assaulted on two fronts: his hand pumping his cock, now erect and curving slightly in his hand, and his head driving right into his prostate.

That seems to wake up James a little bit more. Mouth hanging open in a needy moan, his head lifts from the pillow, seeming to bow backward toward Rumlow. His ass quivers against - around - the other man's thick member, half-open blue eyes flickering underneath his lashes as they roll back for a second so there's only a glimpse of white.

James barely tightens up, even when he starts to wake. His body stays so pliant, practically offering itself up to Rumlow. James is pliant, but responsive, and it's everything Rumlow needs to spur on the arousal that is moving through his body so heatedly.

Once he knows he hits that spot, watching the way James arches his body to press his ass in closer, Rumlow grins, teasing him with it. He pulls out almost all the way before rocking into him shallowly for a moment, before he thrusts in deep to hit that same spot. He can't see the full look of pleasure on James's face, but he can feel his body responding to it.

James's cock responds as well, leaking precum against Rumlow's fingers to help slick his long, languid strokes.

James has been so good, and he still can't get that blowjob from yesterday out of his head. Surely James deserves a reward, and Rumlow wants to be the one to give it to him- while also getting exactly what he wants.

"That's right, sweetheart- does that feel good?" Feels good for him. It's the best morning he's had in a very long time.

Awareness slowly comes back in bits and pieces, timed with each drive of that heat stuffing itself inside him, that irresistible hand wrapped around his weeping erection so that he'll stain his boxers and the sheets under his body. One of the first things to register aside from the familiar feel of Rumlow filling him is the drawl of his voice, the way he purrs that special pet name. Sweetheart. It hangs in the air like a collar with a name tag reserved for him and him only.

Arousal and pleasure coils tight in James, heady, dizzying. Plunging to hit his prostate, holding there, it has his back arching again because that voice is right, it does feel good and he thinks he wants more, he doesn't want it to stop and it doesn't matter if it's hard to think and form sentences because Rumlow's here with him. It's safe. He moans, head falling back, his arm having shifted so he's managed to lift himself further, torso twisting around as if he wants to see Rumlow even as his eyes flutter, lids heavy, still fighting off the drowsiness.

"...Rumlow...?"

But it's more of a sleepy rhetorical, James pushing up from the bed as he tries to kiss Rumlow, his whole body shuddering with the pleasure he's typically denied. By now he manages to get his eyes open more often then not, blinking blearily at the other man's form as he leans over him, sunlight slanting across Rumlow's hardened features, his dark hair tousled with sleep.

Edited (i have all the typos) 2025-07-19 03:24 (UTC)

Sweetheart. James is right. It's only for him, only for his Soldier. Right now they are one and the same, and yet- James gets a lot more than the Soldier does. Maybe because there's a spark behind those blue eyes. There's something that Rumlow needs and wants- more than he can ever admit to.

James arches into him, pulling him in deeper, and Rumlow obliges. He doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to tease anymore. He starts rolling his hips forward so he can hit that spot over and over now, getting to hear those sweet moans from his lover as his body responds so nicely.

When James twists his body so he can look at him, Rumlow is right there, nipping at his jaw, "Yeah... yeah. Of course it's me. You're mine, remember? Always." He captures James's lips in a deep, searing kiss after that, claiming him completely.

Little stings of teeth teasing against his jaw toward his chin, each one dragging a little bit more of awareness out of the fog as he cants his head without thinking to the side to allow Rumlow even better access. Even still drowsy, it's been burned into the very fabric of the Winter Soldier's - of James' - being to submit at all times in all ways to his handler, to the man currently seated inside his channel so deeply, so thickly, that it's hard to think of anything else but him.

He doesn't get a chance to speak. Whatever he was going to say is stolen by Rumlow's kiss, a wordless mumble vibrating against the heat of the other man's mouth and tongue as James instinctively relaxes into the kiss, opening himself up to if he'd like to push in deeper or keep it (relatively) chaste.

His ass rocks with each thrust, each snap of Rumlow's hips that slap his groin and balls against his exposed, lube-smeared ass. With how hard James is in his hand it wouldn't take long for him to release...but even under deep cover, even thinking he's a different man, a real person instead of a human-shaped mirage, James is still waiting for permission to do something as drastic as indulge in pleasure. His moans take on an increasing desperate color against Rumlow's mouth, eyes rolling behind his fluttering lashes.

Rumlow wants James to feel something. To feel something good. Past the orders, past the conditioning. He wants his body to give into the pleasure he feels as Rumlow thrusts in against his prostate, over and over again. He wants James to feel that tingle down to his toes. He wants those nightmares to be on the backburner compared to this. To what he's willing to give him.

Rumlow deepens the kiss as he always does, practically devouring those plump lips between each and every moan.

He's so close now, James rocking back against him to try and get him deeper. He can feel the other man squeeze around his cock as if he wants to milk him- and that's exactly what he does. "Oh fuck.... oh god, I'm gonna come. I'm gonna fill you up so good. Want you to come with me." It's the permission James needs, because Rumlow needs it too.

He thrusts in deep, hard, his hand working James' cock so that he can't think anymore. Just pleasure all around, flowing between them.

Caught up in each sparking wave of pleasure, each jolt of Rumlow making damn sure to grind up against that special spot, and the nightmare is the very last thing on James' mind. In fact, there isn't much going on in his mind at all right now, not with this kind of overwhelming wake-up call. Not when he's filled with the heat of Rumlow's cock pistoning deeper, faster, and his voice weaves into the emptiness and all that matters is his handler's happy, that he comes and he does exactly what he wants so he'll remain happy.

He isn't sure if he comes with or before Rumlow.

There's only Rumlow's callused hand gliding up and down his shaft, cock burying itself over and over, his lips hot and seeking and demanding as James trembles and then stiffens where he's trapped between Rumlow's grip on his arousal and his shaft still thrusting into his ass. A jerk, a twitch of his hips. He's spilling all over his hand, the sheets, whatever sound of animal pleasure James makes lost in a messy kiss that has saliva glistening against both their mouths.

It's a hell of a wake-up call. Seemingly exhausted to the bone, James goes limp against Rumlow with his spent cock still throbbing and twitching and his body sagging down toward the bed, head bowed so that his dark hair hangs in his face while he gasps in little hitches, still coming down off this high Rumlow's gifted him with. His ass spasms around the other man's heat, as if trying to draw in every last drop.

James does come before he does, spilling over his hand, the sheets, his ass clenching around his cock so tightly that it's only a moment longer before Rumlow comes as well.

He cries out, thrusting hard as he spills inside his Soldier, then grinds in against him in short burst, reveling in the fact that James rides out his own orgasm while making sure he's well and fully milked dry. James is limp again after that, so Rumlow fucks into him as long as he needs to before it becomes too much, and he needs to stop, but he still nips and kisses along James' neck, his sticky hand sliding up along sweat slick abs.

He stays buried deep inside James, even when they come down from it all. There's no reason for them to pull apart just yet.

Spent and collapsed against the bed with the aftershocks of pleasure, James doesn't try to immediately roll over, which is just as well - he's the perfect receptacle for Rumlow to keep driving in for a little while longer, making sure he's thoroughly painted the heat of his channel with his release. It takes a little while longer before awareness really sets in. Rumlow, as always, guides him home with alternating soft kisses, rough lips and the scratch of stubble, and the little stings of his teeth trailing from his nape up toward the sensitive skin behind one ear.

Eventually the heaving firm muscle underneath Rumlow's roaming hands slows. James catches his breath, face partially mashed into his pillow damp with sweat. Feeling somehow both empty and not, a general sense of you feel great everywhere even as his shaft gradually goes flaccid, James blinks into his pillow, finally wide awake enough to understand what had happened. Rumlow's still seated inside him, softening too. He can tell from his breathing, the play of his hand against his stomach and occasionally wandering up to his nipples underneath his shirt that he also feels this good, this relaxed.

James shifts his head against the pillow so he can turn it sideways, good hand coming up so he can make a sloppy attempt at combing his long hair away from his face and out of his eyes. He has to lever himself up a little from the pillow so he can glance over what remains of his left shoulder, the metal socket there glinting chrome.

James aims a sleepy, well-fucked smile over his shoulder at the man still stuffed inside him. "'Morning to you too." If he was a bit more on his feet right now, maybe he would've had some snappy one-liner about there being such a thing as alarm clocks but he's nice and fucked and even those four words took a good chunk of effort.

Edited (typos) 2025-07-19 07:17 (UTC)

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