It's getting harder for the Winter Soldier to think, to focus, and for once it doesn't have anything to do with the chair's arcing electricity searing through his temples or cold IV drips or the needles digging into the crook of his elbow. Preliminary tests, he'd heard disembodied voices say, before trials proceed on the Captain. The Captain. The only other asset he's laid eyes on and somehow, deep in his bones, his gut, he still remembers him.
He thinks he'll remember this, too.
The Captain has his mouth on his cock, stubble tickling his naked thighs, and it feels weirdly right. That warmth encircling him. Lips wrapped around the heat of his stiffening shaft like they're made for each other. Physical pleasure is still an alien thing to the Winter Soldier and it shows from how at first he stiffens at the unfamiliar sensation, flinches at the hint of teeth, the exhausted lines of his features pinching at the bridge of his nose and at the corners of his eyes, how he sucks in a breath rattling through his parted lips when the other asset bodily drags him closer. His thighs throb where the Captain's powerful fingers dig into skin and muscle.
Don't take your eyes off the Captain. That's rule number one, a rule not officially taught by HYDRA, a rule he isn't sure he was supposed to come up with on his own without prior authorization from a handler, but it's a rule that, generally, seems just like common sense. Don't close your eyes, no matter how good this feels. Even as the Winter Soldier's head tilts back against the shelves, his mouth hanging wantonly open in a moan, he still has his eyes open - half-open - flinty blue-gray glittering through his dark lashes. The shape of the Captain, on his knees instead of towering over him on a training mat, his mouth full of cock, shimmers before him, foggy at the edges. Hypersaturated. Something in his head and along his neck pulses. Whatever that drug was, it's currently burning through his body, dismantling whatever shreds of control he still has left.
The Soldier's metal fingers tighten against the other man's scalp.
Something's missing. He can't remember if he's ever had someone - man, woman, whatever - with their mouth on him like this. If they did, he can't pull up the memory but somehow he has this vague idea that the Captain should be doing something more than he already is. Not just trying to swallow him whole, holding him heavy and hot in his waiting mouth. Frustration mounts. The Soldier's hips twist, thrusting up into the other asset's mouth, not caring if he gags or if he makes sounds of discomfort vibrating against his cock. He pushes away from the shelf to curl forward, right hand with the leash bracing against the floor, his titanium one gripping the Captain's short blond hair, the back of his head, and trying to pump him along his shaft and see if that'll fix what's missing.
"You need to do better," the Winter Soldier grunts. "I know you can do better, Captain."
He drags the other asset further along his almost fully hard shaft, watching how his lips are forced wider as it stiffens, how the Captain's body language and posture might change as he's forced to take more than he was prepared for. He pulls him closer, forces him to take him, all of him, to see when it almost seems like he's kissing his groin, his nose buried in dark hair. If it gets hard to breathe, so what? The Captain's probably had the same lung capacity training he did. He'll manage.
no subject
He thinks he'll remember this, too.
The Captain has his mouth on his cock, stubble tickling his naked thighs, and it feels weirdly right. That warmth encircling him. Lips wrapped around the heat of his stiffening shaft like they're made for each other. Physical pleasure is still an alien thing to the Winter Soldier and it shows from how at first he stiffens at the unfamiliar sensation, flinches at the hint of teeth, the exhausted lines of his features pinching at the bridge of his nose and at the corners of his eyes, how he sucks in a breath rattling through his parted lips when the other asset bodily drags him closer. His thighs throb where the Captain's powerful fingers dig into skin and muscle.
Don't take your eyes off the Captain. That's rule number one, a rule not officially taught by HYDRA, a rule he isn't sure he was supposed to come up with on his own without prior authorization from a handler, but it's a rule that, generally, seems just like common sense. Don't close your eyes, no matter how good this feels. Even as the Winter Soldier's head tilts back against the shelves, his mouth hanging wantonly open in a moan, he still has his eyes open - half-open - flinty blue-gray glittering through his dark lashes. The shape of the Captain, on his knees instead of towering over him on a training mat, his mouth full of cock, shimmers before him, foggy at the edges. Hypersaturated. Something in his head and along his neck pulses. Whatever that drug was, it's currently burning through his body, dismantling whatever shreds of control he still has left.
The Soldier's metal fingers tighten against the other man's scalp.
Something's missing. He can't remember if he's ever had someone - man, woman, whatever - with their mouth on him like this. If they did, he can't pull up the memory but somehow he has this vague idea that the Captain should be doing something more than he already is. Not just trying to swallow him whole, holding him heavy and hot in his waiting mouth. Frustration mounts. The Soldier's hips twist, thrusting up into the other asset's mouth, not caring if he gags or if he makes sounds of discomfort vibrating against his cock. He pushes away from the shelf to curl forward, right hand with the leash bracing against the floor, his titanium one gripping the Captain's short blond hair, the back of his head, and trying to pump him along his shaft and see if that'll fix what's missing.
"You need to do better," the Winter Soldier grunts. "I know you can do better, Captain."
He drags the other asset further along his almost fully hard shaft, watching how his lips are forced wider as it stiffens, how the Captain's body language and posture might change as he's forced to take more than he was prepared for. He pulls him closer, forces him to take him, all of him, to see when it almost seems like he's kissing his groin, his nose buried in dark hair. If it gets hard to breathe, so what? The Captain's probably had the same lung capacity training he did. He'll manage.