Can’t escape. A flex of the powerful arm locked around his back – a warning that if he doesn’t take the right tactical approach that he could end up semi-conscious and drooling on the floor and not only will he lose the exercise and rack up more punishment, the Captain can just do what he wants regardless.
The Soldier’s as rigid as his cock weeping between them.
With the taste of his blood streaking across his lips and the press of the Captain's hungrily claiming his mouth, tongue surging, the Soldier has to fight off an ingrained reaction to submit trying to well up. The other asset's aggressive, domineering because of course he has to be, and his assault on his mouth is disorienting as the Captain groans with a demanding kind of need and his breath washes hot across his face when he pulls back to slop another kiss on, to bite at his lips until they're either bleeding or swollen and tinged pink, tender to the touch.
It's a distraction.
Before the Soldier can use that split second opening when the other man's thighs shift, he's suddenly repositioning his body and locking him down even further. He's still pinned, stretched out now, ankles hooked so he can't easily worm away and maybe it's an even worse position because the Captain has control of his feet and his cock's still gripped tight enough that he only has to squeeze hard to incapacitate any fight out of him. Disoriented, unused to physical pleasure warring with the need to fight back, to maybe not submit because the Captain's not a handler, but just another asset like him, the Winter Soldier bares his teeth in a snarl as soon as his mouth's freed. His teeth are tinged red with his own blood, lips stinging and plumped from the Captain's possessive bites and nips.
...But he's also speeding up those strokes with his hand pumping faster. Pleasure pulses in waves threatening to overwhelm his combat readiness. Despite himself, the Soldier wavers, the aphro he ingested orally and inhaled vibrating along his body taut with need and concentrating in his cock trapped in the other man's merciless hand.
Without thinking about it, maybe without realizing he's doing it, he finally concedes.
He matches the Captain's energy. If he strokes harder along his engorged shaft dribbling all over their stomachs and chest, then in return the Winter Soldier fondles the soft heat of his balls that much more. Rolling them. Palming them, sometimes teasing that line where it could be painful. He tries to meet the other asset's gaze, knowing he's staring up at him with his blue eyes glinting and assessing, but it's been a while - a long time, maybe - since he experienced pleasure. At all.
And the aphrodisiac he got dosed with only amplifies it.
His mouth hangs open as he gasps and grunts with each tug and twist of the Captain's hand. Hips jerk toward him, thrust, the shaft slick and throbbing in the other man's grasp. The Soldier's steadily losing the plot as he gives into the aphro burning him up from the inside, his face growing slack with sheer pleasure. A few times his eyes will start to roll up into his head with a flutter of dark lashes before he seems to catch himself and his face scrunches, confused, nose crinkling, his tongue slipping out to wet his mouth as he gives his head a little shake. Rallying, maybe, for a second wind...if the Captain gives him that opening.
no subject
The Soldier’s as rigid as his cock weeping between them.
With the taste of his blood streaking across his lips and the press of the Captain's hungrily claiming his mouth, tongue surging, the Soldier has to fight off an ingrained reaction to submit trying to well up. The other asset's aggressive, domineering because of course he has to be, and his assault on his mouth is disorienting as the Captain groans with a demanding kind of need and his breath washes hot across his face when he pulls back to slop another kiss on, to bite at his lips until they're either bleeding or swollen and tinged pink, tender to the touch.
It's a distraction.
Before the Soldier can use that split second opening when the other man's thighs shift, he's suddenly repositioning his body and locking him down even further. He's still pinned, stretched out now, ankles hooked so he can't easily worm away and maybe it's an even worse position because the Captain has control of his feet and his cock's still gripped tight enough that he only has to squeeze hard to incapacitate any fight out of him. Disoriented, unused to physical pleasure warring with the need to fight back, to maybe not submit because the Captain's not a handler, but just another asset like him, the Winter Soldier bares his teeth in a snarl as soon as his mouth's freed. His teeth are tinged red with his own blood, lips stinging and plumped from the Captain's possessive bites and nips.
...But he's also speeding up those strokes with his hand pumping faster. Pleasure pulses in waves threatening to overwhelm his combat readiness. Despite himself, the Soldier wavers, the aphro he ingested orally and inhaled vibrating along his body taut with need and concentrating in his cock trapped in the other man's merciless hand.
Without thinking about it, maybe without realizing he's doing it, he finally concedes.
He matches the Captain's energy. If he strokes harder along his engorged shaft dribbling all over their stomachs and chest, then in return the Winter Soldier fondles the soft heat of his balls that much more. Rolling them. Palming them, sometimes teasing that line where it could be painful. He tries to meet the other asset's gaze, knowing he's staring up at him with his blue eyes glinting and assessing, but it's been a while - a long time, maybe - since he experienced pleasure. At all.
And the aphrodisiac he got dosed with only amplifies it.
His mouth hangs open as he gasps and grunts with each tug and twist of the Captain's hand. Hips jerk toward him, thrust, the shaft slick and throbbing in the other man's grasp. The Soldier's steadily losing the plot as he gives into the aphro burning him up from the inside, his face growing slack with sheer pleasure. A few times his eyes will start to roll up into his head with a flutter of dark lashes before he seems to catch himself and his face scrunches, confused, nose crinkling, his tongue slipping out to wet his mouth as he gives his head a little shake. Rallying, maybe, for a second wind...if the Captain gives him that opening.