Random hydra/Strike team euphemism: "Transfered to R&D"
Hydra doesn't have long term disability coverage. Or, really, great short term disability. If you survive a mission but are too badly injured to be useful in a week or two, there are always a couple of entirely non-FDA-approved projects on rapid healing, synthetic flesh or just "what does this compound do?" that you can help out with. It might get you back into action, and if not, your contribution to the improvement of the human race will be honored. Hail Hydra or whatever.
Helmut clenched his fists to control the shaking. He hadn't meant… hadn't meant to…
Well. That’s a lie.
He had absolutely meant to upset Bucky.
He should have meant to placate him, to twist him against Sam, to keep his leverage but give them enough information to keep them both on his side.
But there's something about the way Bucky holds his jaw. The way his eyes flash with unchecked emotion.
Something about the heat that radiates off of Bucky when he's angry.
Fires under Helmut's skin like a pulse.
And that little outburst, looming over Helmut, ripping the tea cup from his fingers and smashing it against the wall. The cold fury…
Helmut needs to shake it off. This is not what he's here for. This is not part of his plan…
Bucky's beautiful rage, the way it clouds Helmut's judgements, his fixation on bringing it to the surface, is only going to make it harder for him to finish what he started.
It takes almost no time at all for Helmut’s resolve to crumble.
It takes only as far as their next argument, with Sam gone to speak with his sister, to buy himself some small peace, and Helmut fresh from a hot bath, Buky has been sitting too long on his own. Left too long with his own thoughts.
A well placed attack at Bucky’s restlessness, his currently unfulfilled need to be useful, and Bucky is up and at him in a second.
This time with no one to pull him back.
‘What is it that you actually want from me,’ Bucky says, his face so close to Helmut’s face, Helmut can taste the cherry blossom tea on his breath.
He wants to reach up and taste it for real. He wants to bite at that taste, sink his teeth into it. Into Bucky.
He also doesn’t know how to answer that question.
He doesn’t want Bucky to know that, though he’s taken so long to answer, stared so long at Bucky’s mouth… he might not be able to hide it now.
‘You don’t even know? Do you?’
‘I want to finish what I started.’
‘Kill all of us?’ Bucky’s eyes are blazing. His lips are pursed, his jaw is clenched. It throws his whole face into the kind of chiseled righteous fury that Helmut craves.
He shouldn’t push… he can’t afford to push him too far. He needs Bucky to help him find the others. But he needs… he needs to feed off this rage.
'No good will come of allowing super soldiers to live,' Helmut whispers, and it's not a lie.
'And you? You've done so much good with your life?' Bucky asks, whispered just as quietly, not moving back, not giving an inch.
'I've done what was necessary.'
Bucky’s eyes narrow at that. But he doesn't move. Doesn't respond.
'At least I've always done what I thought was right,' he closes the distance between them, speaks the words right into Bucky’s ear, 'At least I've never rolled over and let my enemies enact their evil through me.'
Bucky’s reaction is beautiful. He flinches at the words as if they've struck him. Helmut can feel him shaking. With guilt, or anger, or fear, he isn't sure.
But if Helmut knows anything about Bucky, he knows it will be some combination of all three.
Bucky steps back but Helmut follows him, reaches up a hand to cup his face. 'Such a perfect weapon, Bucky,' he says, tracing a thumb across the stubbled divot of his chin, 'Do you honestly think you can ever be free? So much capacity for death and destruction.'
'I'm more than what they made me,' Bucky fires back, ripping his chin out of Helmut’s hand, 'I'm more than what you see in me.'
'You might think so-' Helmut starts but Bucky cuts him off, stalking forward and pushing Helmut back with the force of his chest, his expression, his power.
Bucky stalks Helmut all the way back into the wall.
‘You want me to be a weapon,’ Bucky says, sneering now, menacing, as he crowds Helmut into the rendered brick of the kitchen wall, ‘you need me to be a weapon,’ he puts his hands on either side of Helmut’s head, leans his face in close, ‘I’m not the only one of us who’s broken, Zemo, I see the way you look at me, the way you land your blows to hit me so right.’
Helmut can’t move, he can’t find any words to reply that won't betray the mess of his feelings right now.
His breath comes faster and faster, his heart pumping blood to all the wrong places. He needs his head, he needs his mind, he doesn’t need his dick to do his thinking.
He doesn’t need for Bucky to be able to feel how broken he is, that this is working. That Bucky has him cornered.
‘You need me to be nothing more than what they made me, because then you can play with me all you want. Isn’t that right? Then you can break me more, you can push me over the edge, and you don’t have to worry that you are becoming everything you hate.’
‘I am nothing like what they made you,’ Helmut says, breathing faster, harder, his chest rising and falling and pressing up against Bucky’s on every inhale.
‘No, you’re not like me,’ Bucky says, and he smiles. Shark-like. Fiercely stunning. ‘You’re like them. You’re just like Hydra.’
And that catches at something jagged in Helmut, something he knows and pretends isn't true.
‘I am nothing like them!’ he snarls, pushes up into Bucky’s face, their noses almost touching.
Bucky lets him.
He doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t pull away.
He takes his vibranium hand off the wall next to Helmut’s face and he runs it down Helmut’s chest. Then he pushes him back into the wall. Holds him there.
‘You know you are,’ Bucky says, still smiling, ‘and you want exactly what they wanted.’ Bucky leans in, ‘You want to use me,’ he takes his flesh hand off the wall, traces a finger down to Helmut’s waist, ‘want to control me,’ pushes his robe aside and trails his hand across bare skin, ‘you want to own me.’
Helmut lets his head fall back against the wall as Bucky’s hand slips down to his dick. Presses on it, wraps his fingers around it.
Helmut means to shake his head, means to deny it, to lie again. But he can’t.
He wants it so much.
‘You want to own me, don’t you.’ And Bucky bites down on Helmuts ear.
Helmut can’t help the breath that escapes him. The way it drags out like a sigh, like a prayer.
‘You want to fuck me open, make me yours.’
It’s not a question. Bucky knows. Helmut hasn’t hidden anything. Hasn’t manipulated anybody but himself.
And even so, Bucky pulls back to look him in the eye. Raises an eyebrow at him, looks for confirmation.
Because despite everything they’ve done to him, at his core, Bucky is a good man.
Helmut wants to burn that out of him.
It's terrifying how dangerous Bucky is. The raw power, not just from the poison in his blood, but the vibranium in his arm, the force of his rage.
It's terrifying and it's magnificent.
He can't let Bucky get the better of him, he needs to take back his control.
The victory here belongs to Helmut.
He tests Bucky by pushing against his weight, and at first Bucky pushes back, but then almost immediately he relents.
'You okay?' He asks, voice shaking.
And it rings in Helmut’s ears, that affectation, the way he has rattled Bucky. He uses his sudden leverage to press even further forward, and he looks up into Bucky’s beautiful face.
'I'm never going to be okay,' he says, voice calm, using every measurable unit of control in his body to keep still. To keep steady. 'You and your Avengers made sure of it.'
Bucky's face closes over, but his stance loosens further, his shoulders slump, and Helmut seizes the opportunity to push Bucky to his knees.
And Bucky lets him - be it sense memory or innate supplication, whatever the reason - Bucky lets Helmut push him to the ground.
Helmut ignores his hesitation, focuses instead on the storm in Bucky's eyes, the rise of his chin. The way Bucky has made this his choice, even now.
Helmut mimics his movements from earlier to cup Bucky under the chin, takes his other hand and runs it through his hair, grips it hard and pulls, snaps Bucky’s head back.
'Open your mouth for me, like the good little soldier you are.'
And Jesus, Helmut has to swallow down his moan at the way Bucky does exactly what he's told. At the way Bucky opens for him. Never dropping eye contact.
As if this is exactly what he wanted.
Helmut should take that, should let it stop him. Should pause now. Not give him what he wants. But it's too late.
He's too far gone.
And Helmut is already sliding his cock into that open mouth with delicious abandon.
The slick wet warmth, so tight, so sweet, it draws him forward. He yanks at his grip on Bucky’s hair, uses it like a stronghold to keep Bucky in place (though he could never; Bucky is so much stronger) to pull out and then slam all the way back in.
He looks down into those steel blue eyes and catches the fire there. And it spurs him on, to pull out and push back, to slam his hips forward. To fuck Bucky’s face, to own him, and be owned, and throw everything away on the power, and the powerlessness of this feeling.
Of the way Bucky hollows his cheeks to keep that wet heat deliciously tight, an action that only exacerbates the sharp cut of his cheekbones, only intensifies the beauty of his supplication.
Every thrust brings Helmut closer and closer to a complete loss of control. And every thrust feels more and more like tipping over the edge.
'You are mine,' Helmut says, as much to reinforce that idea to himself as to Bucky. 'I own you.'
Bucky doesn't move to agree or disagree. Only slides his hands up Helmut's thighs to pull him closer.
'Oh god,' Helmut cries out, throwing his head back as Bucky sucks harder, as Helmut’s cock pulses. 'So good,' he looks down, pulls tighter on Bucky's hair, 'my perfect little soldier,' and he means every word to be a barb, but they miss the mark so completely. Because he feels it too damn much.
And Bucky… Bucky knows it.
Bucky is smiling around Helmut’s cock as he draws it in, as he takes every thrust.
It's too much. The smile, the fire in his eyes, the warmth of his mouth, the way Helmut’s cock hits the back of Bucky's throat.
The way he can put all of his force into yanking Bucky's newly shorn hair, and Bucky just takes it like it’s a gift.
It's too much. He can't hold on.
He pulls out just in time to feel his orgasm wash over him, to spray come all over Bucky's lips and chin.
And Bucky...
Bucky happily opens his mouth to it. Closes his eyes and accepts it, rapturous.
He chases the mess on his lips with his tongue, wipes at it with a vibranium thumb and sucks it clean.
Helmut doesn't mean to run his hands through Bucky's hair. Doesn't mean to trace a finger down his face, let it linger across his swollen red lips.
'Such a good boy,' he says quietly. And then he bends down to pick up his robe, turns around. And walks away.
Next time (926 words) by Neutralchaos
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Captain America (Movies)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Brock Rumlow, Steve Rogers, Jack Rollins, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Alexander Pierce
Additional Tags: HTP adjacent, Crack, Rumlow is a cocky asshole and gets exactly what he deserves, No Plot/Plotless, No one feels bad for him
Summary:
He had followed Pierce down here thinking that he was going to be able use Roger’s best buddy as a nice warm hole to get off in. Turns out, the Soldier when he was out of the ice box was really fucking horny.
