Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Unholy hell-miracle achieved! Welcome to Bad Guys Do Bad Things To Your Faves 2: Electric Boogaloo. AKA the seamy sexual-violence-and-violent-sex underbelly of Captain America fandom, AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. As usual, BLANKET NON-CON AND NSFW WARNINGS apply: just assume going in that everything in this landfill is unfit for human consumption.

Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.

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Round 2 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 3.

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I'm kinda on a porn only reading spree atm (cough cough) so I haven't read the first parts but somehow stumbled into the last ones, and JFC, searingly hot. <3

Hey there, first-time prompt-filler. Anon, I hope this was what you wanted! :)

A shoutout to my lovely cheerleader and beta on trashchat (You know who you are!). Without her thoughtful feedback, encouragement and excellent critique this story certainly wouldn't have been as fulfilling or as enjoyable to write.

Also, I've read a lot of fic in the Cap2 fandom, and as such my writing is very much inspired by a lot of the great stories found in the HTP dumpster. For this story, I drew on both Magpirate's excellent fem!Cap stories and Shine's incredible "Blood from a Stone" in addition to my beta's advice.

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It was pandemonium when Rumlow rushed into the cell.

Five guards and two of the three bank vault techs were lying unconscious on the floor. Four of his men were trying to bring down a very pissed off Stella Rogers. Her arms were already manacled wrist-to-elbow behind her back and one ankle was already chained to the floor, but apparently, all you needed was one leg free to beat the shit out of everyone in the room when you were a fucking supersoldier. Conway had grabbed her from behind and was trying to restrain her while Halloway, Richter and Daniels were circling her, batons extended. Guns were a bad idea in a space this enclosed. Besides, the secretary had been pretty specific about her being “relatively unharmed” by the time he got the bank vault. Rumlow, remembering the complete disaster in the elevator a few days ago, sincerely wondered if he was getting paid enough to do the job.

Halloway launched himself at her first and she nailed him in the throat with a lightning fast kick from her free leg. From the way he crashed back to the floor, dropped his baton and gripped at his throat, sputtering, there was a good chance she’d crushed his larynx. She rapidly rotated into a spin kick and brought her leg across Richter’s face. He crumpled instantly. Two down in three seconds. As she brought her free leg down, Daniels saw a window of opportunity and charged her. She responded by brushing aside the baton and kneeing him in the balls with her chained leg. Daniels howled; he was lucky as her mobility was significantly limited by the length of chain – the damage was likely limited. However, the ball-busting took Daniels out of the game.

Rumlow had had his gun pointed at her face since he stepped into the room and he was shouting for Cap to stand down, but he hadn’t shot before, and she knew he probably wouldn’t shoot now. She knew they needed her for something and she was exploiting that knowledge to the fullest. Ridge, who had run in right after Rumlow, already had his hands full with a rapidly asphyxiating Halloway and was administering an emergency tracheotomy using a ball point pen that he had grabbed from one of the unconscious technicians. Fuck, where were the sedatives when you needed one?

As Conway struggled to hold her, she slipped her free foot behind his ankle and pitched herself backwards. She landed on top of him, elbow digging into his rib cage. The sound of breaking bone filled the room and Conway screamed.

“Out of the way.”

The hair on the back of Rumlow’s neck rose as he automatically dodged to the side. The Winter Soldier rushed forward, a blur of black and silver. Rogers was already on her feet again, but the soldier was fast, and she was still shaking off the effect of the tranquilizers that the asset had hit her with as she was making her way out of the bus. The asset sent a metal fist into her stomach, winding her and making her double over. With the same arm, he grabbed her face, and body-slammed her head-first into the concrete floor. Rogers went limp.

Rumlow was instantly shouting orders. “Ellis and Warren, we got six casualties! Mercer and Rollins, assist!” Daniels was their head medic and Ridge was the official backup, but the other four also had sufficient background in first aid. “Corle, Satre, tie her down.”

The asset held her down while his men worked double-time to secure her. The cell wasn’t large – it was a 20’ x 20’ x 10’ room with an eight foot diameter circle at the center, ringed with a series of large, closable metal hooks. It looked like Conway, who was grunting in pain, and currently being assisted by Rollins, had probably broken a rib or two on the protruding hooks when Rogers had slammed him onto the ground. Corle affixed an adamantium cuff to her free ankle. He then looped the each end of the chain to one of the hooks on the floor and closed them, making sure that the chains could not slip even if she struggled. Satre did the same with a collar around Rogers’ throat. Unlike the ankle cuffs, the collar had two chains, one on each side of the ring of metal.

“Make sure the chains have some slack.” The asset said, in heavily Russian-accented English, as they were working.
Matheson, idiot he was, boggled. “Are you fucking kidding me? After what she did?”

The asset fixed him was a dead-eyed stare. “The secretary wants room to work.”

Rumlow figured as much. The moment that Rogers had come out of the ice, alive, the HYDRA leadership had started crafting plans for her. Few of them had been naïve enough to believe that she would come over to their side, despite the strength of their cause. After the first year that Rumlow had served under her on the field he was able to confirmed their well-founded suspicions: HYDRA was going to have to drag her along, kicking and screaming.
Rumlow went over to assist Ridge with Halloway and saw the damage Cap had dealt him. Preferably with a whole lot of fucking screaming, he amended.

“He can’t stay here, Rumlow. He needs the hospital.”

Mercer, Ellis and Warren confirmed the same with their patients. “We can get them into a couple of vans, take them downtown.” said Mercer, rising, one of Conway’s arms over her shoulders. Matheson headed over to help her with Conway. “We should be back in a few hours.”

The hospital was probably in a panic right now, with the number of casualties HYDRA had racked up in broad daylight. They’d flipped over a full bus and destroyed several cars in their pursuit of Rogers, Romanov and their little winged friend. Speaking of which, Romanov and birdie were still in the air. A second STRIKE unit had been sent to hunt them down. It was by sheer luck that they had captured Rogers; they had to let Romanov and birdie go and focus on bringing down Rogers alone. It was a good thing that the asset had hit Rogers with the tranquilizer the moment she rushed out from the safety of the bus.

Rumlow nodded. “Operation Eve is in full effect, Agent Mercer.”

Understanding dawned on the faces in front of him.

“We need to get Rogers out of the country under cover of night; it’s only midday. We need to lay low for a few hours.”

Rollins looked around. “You have enough firepower to handle her?”

Rumlow looked back at the asset. “We do now.”

“What about him?” Ellis motioned to the only conscious technician who was in a state of shock. What a pansy. One would think that after years of handling the asset that he’d be used to shit like this happening.

“Get him out of here. He’s just going to be in the way.”

Daniels, face red and cursing, brushed Warren off. “They’re gonna fucking hurt for a while, but I’ll live.” He glared at Rogers’ prone form. “I’m not missing this for the fucking world. Gonna go get some ice.” He limped out of the cell heading to a small breakroom which held a stash of medical supplies. Daniels would likely find what he needed there.

The asset, Corle and Gregory stood guard over Rogers while the rest of the team carried the wounded to the vans. Rumlow watched as they drove off, allowing the remaining team members to head back to the cell; his team, once composed of five guards, three technicians, and twelve STRIKE team members, was now reduced to eight. He was pretty sure the asset could make up for the loss and then some, however.

As he walked back in, he heard the elevator leading to the underground vault chime, and he stopped and stood crisply at attention. The doors opened and Alexander Pierce strode into the room with an air of understated menace and confidence. As usual, Pierce looked impeccable in his light grey suit and perfectly coiffed hair. It made Brock unusually and suddenly self-conscious; he felt a bit like a microwaved dog shit having been on the job 24/7 for the last week or so.

“Agent Rumlow.” Said Pierce, striding past him towards Rogers’ cell.

“Sir.” Brock followed him.

They walked through two sets of biometrically sealed doors of before they reached the innermost cell where Rogers was being held. STRIKE had gathered around Rogers and was starting a round of taunting and insults.
“Heads up, boys.” Rumlow called, and his men turned and quickly formed two columns parallel to one another, opening the circle to reveal Rogers and the asset to both Rumlow and Pierce. The asset had her sitting up, knees up to her chest. The chains were slack, but tight enough that she couldn’t kick anyone standing outside of the circle without moving forward. The asset’s metal hand gripping the back of her collar forced her to sit still.

“Pierce, what a surprise.”

Pierce stood, looking down at her. “Hello Captain Rogers. I would say that it’s a pleasure to see you, but I’d rather not lie.”

“Well, that’s a change.” Rogers replied, sarcastically.

Pierce ignored her. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I have a few guesses, but I’m not too keen on sharing right now.”

Pierce smiled coldly; his smile did not reach his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t have guessed this. Spread her.”

Corle and Satre moved quickly, tightening the chains on her ankles. They looped an additional length of the chain under the hooks on the floor, forcing her to spread her legs. They barely managed as she pulled back. It was only after each man had an additional pair of arms join in did they succeed. Even the asset was straining a bit to keep her sitting upright. Pierce stepped into the circle and knelt down at the generous space between her open legs.

“Knife.”

Rumlow handed him his hunting knife; the blade had been recently sharpened. Pierce held it up to her eyes, letting the light of the fluorescent lights overhead catch on the sides of the blade. Rogers spit in Pierce’s face. He smiled, eyes hard, and slapped her, hard across the face. Her head turned with the motion although she remained silent.

“Keep her still.”

The asset re-positioned his hands, metal hand digging into her scalp beneath her braid. He pulled her head back, forcing Rogers chin upwards as he held a sharp blade to her throat, just over the carotid. “Don’t move.” Rogers stilled, breathing a little faster now. Pierce fished out a handkerchief and cleared away the spittle. He refolded it and put it back in his pocket.

“Now where were we?”

“You were just about to go fuck yourself.”

“No need to be crass, Stella. But,” Pierce took a hold of the cheap blue t-shirt at the collar and slashed it down the middle. “Then again, I suppose you are a little nervous right now.”

Her tone was cold and matter-of-fact. “You don’t scare me, Pierce.”

Pierce cut along the seams of the arms and the shirt fell away, revealing she wore only a white sports bra. Her entire left side was bruised. There were rapidly healing cuts running across her rib cage. Going through the bus headfirst had done a number on her. Her abdomen was also heavily bruised from the asset’s much more recent punch.

“I think the lady doth protest too much.” Pierce slipped the knife under the bottom edge of her bra. The blade sliced cleanly through the elastic and made a clean ripping sound as Pierce drew the blade up slowly but surely between her breasts. Freed, they bounced a little, full, round and rosy-nippled. Pierce cut through the straps of the bra more forcefully and let it fall to the ground, leaving her half-naked. He gripped one breast in a wrinkled, but strong hand and squeezed lightly. He released it and tweaked a soft nipple; it responded by peaking slightly. Rogers held his eyes, stone-faced. A smile tugged up one corner of Pierce’s mouth. “I can see why everyone was eager to volunteer for surveillance on your apartment.”

Pierce then turned his attention to her khakis. He gripped the beltline and shifted the edge of the blade under it, slicing into the cloth. Pierce ran the knife's edge down the length of the pant leg smoothly, cleaving the cloth in two. He repeated the action for the other leg. He pushed aside the ruined fabric, revealing pale, bruised legs and purple panties. He returned Rumlow’s knife.

“Lovely color on you, Captain.”

“They were all out of red, white and blue.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, Captain. You look quite fetching in these. And I’m sure,” he looked around himself before catching her eyes again, “Everyone will agree.”

Pierce stroked a hand up one long white thigh peppered with healing bruises and slipped it over the vulnerable join between her legs, eliciting a flinch from her. The soldier’s blade nicked her slightly, and blood started trickling down that pretty neck, over and under the collar.

“Pierce, if you’re trying to convince me what you’re doing for the greater good, I can assure you rape isn’t the way to go about it.”

“Oh, I’m afraid we’re well past negotiating, Captain Rogers. I offered you a chance in the new hierarchy. Now, you still have a very important place in it—” Pierce rubbed slowly and firmly. “But it’ll be at the bottom rather than the top. Both figuratively and literally.”

“However, I have a little chemical help to ease the transition.” Pierce motioned to Ridge. “Commander.”

Ridge stepped forward, his hands already rubber gloved. He stripped the patch of synthetic skin loaded with its drug out of its plastic cover and firmly applied the translucent material across her bared and leanly-muscled upper arm. He carefully disposed of all the materials, careful that it didn’t touch his skin. Whatever tech had loaded into it was highly concentrated, and there was a good chance if Ridge was exposed to it, he might end up in a hospital bed for a week.

Synth skin had been a miracle on STRIKE missions. The problem with oral doses and injections of drugs, in particular painkillers, was that the effective timeframe over which the drug worked was extremely limited. You had to be popping pills every few hours, and sometimes, it could become a matter of life or death. With a synth skin patch, the beneficial amount of drug could be released into the system over a lengthened period of time. Wear one of those things and you were good for up to twenty-four hours. Cap could burn through two of those in about six hours, because her metabolism was a fucking beast, but even she had thought they were pretty fucking great. “First time morphine’s actually worked on me.” She had said to Rumlow once.

“So,” said Rogers, conversationally, as if Pierce wasn’t molesting her in front of a roomful of his subordinates. “I suppose this is where you tell me your evil plan. You certainly seem like you’re in a mood to share.”

“Captain Rogers, I think that you’ve bought a bit too much into your own propaganda.” Pierce kept up his attentions. About thirty seconds after the patch had been applied, Rumlow noted a slight hitch in Rogers’ breath. “My, my, I must commend Banner and Stark, this technology is quite revolutionary. Captain Rogers, your teammates have been so kind to continue supplying us with weapons and health aids.”

Rogers gritted her teeth.

Pierce smiled, almost grandfather-like, which was pretty fucking sick when you considered the whole scenario. Pierce withdrew his hand and slipped it under the front of her panties. He re-started his ministrations. The cloth hid exactly what he was doing, but it wasn’t hard to guess from how his fingers moved under the fabric. Eventually, he drew a full-body shudder from Rogers as he manipulated her anatomy. “Well, I’d deem this little experiment a success, wouldn’t you?”

“Pierce,” Rogers spat, “You really think you can get me to cooperate?”

“As you can see, and feel, I imagine, we don’t need your cooperation to get what we want. However,” Pierce moved his hand in a way that had Rogers gritting her teeth. “I’m sure we can convince you to change your mind.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

The front of Rogers’ panties had already darkened. Pierce extracted his hand from them and wiped his hand on her thigh, leaving a light shine of moisture on her skin. “Unfortunately, my granddaughter’s first piano recital is today. I’m afraid that’s all the time I have for today to entertain you.” Pierce looked fond at the mention of Silvia, who funnily enough, was a huge Captain America fan. Rumlow had bought her a Cap Barbie doll a year ago when he had been invited to attend one of Pierce’s family gatherings – he’d actually gotten Cap to write a little message on the box. Pierce had mentioned in passing that to this day the doll still sat unopened, the box in pristine condition, as the crown jewel in Silvia’s steadily growing collection of toys.

Pierce stood. “Well, you all know the rules.” He gave the asset a look. “Have fun, but make sure she’s in one piece at the end of the day. She’s got a long trip ahead of her. Oh, and Rumlow.”

Rumlow looked up. “Sir?”

“Make sure she enjoys it just as much as you all do.” He winked and walked out of the room.

Brock grinned viciously; he knew how this would go. The bunch of them would have a spot of fun first and the asset would get the leftovers. Pierce had told him, “He’s quite creative. If you leave him to his own devices, you’ll find he puts on quite a display.” Rumlow expected no less; after all, Pierce had been responsible for training the winter soldier for over two decades.

Rumlow waited until he heard the door close with a click before turning towards Rogers. She was tense, steeling herself for the inevitable. Rumlow smiled nastily at her; this was pretty fucking awesome for an early holiday bonus. He knelt and examined Pierce’s handiwork and whistled. “Not bad at all.”

Rogers was unbelievably wet. Rumlow thumbed aside the soaked panties as he investigated the quivering flesh between her legs. As he pushed away the wet fabric, his fingers brushed over her clit and she jerked back into the asset with a choked off moan. They all had a couple of ideas for that pretty mouth, but having Rogers scream and whimper like a bitch in heat wasn’t a bad option. Besides, Fury was already cold on a slab and it was only a matter of time before they found Romanov and her newest companion. There would be plenty of other chances to entertain themselves with Hydra’s newest captive.

Rumlow leaned in close, cupping one of her breasts in a hand and giving it rough squeeze. He rubbed a finger over an erect nipple. Even sweaty and mad as hell she smelled good. Fuck, he was going to have to get in her fast if he didn’t want to make a mess of himself, and this was his last clean pair of trousers. Pierce had had STRIKE running around non-stop after the whole Lemurian Star incident, not much time to consider doing laundry.

“It’s okay, Cap, you can scream if you’d like.”

Even though her hands were manacled behind her back with the asset was holding her still from behind, and her thighs were chained open to the view of the entire room, the glare Rogers leveled at him was one that held deadly promise. If Rumlow had been a lesser man, it would probably have killed his boner. “You’re a sick bastard, Rumlow.” He couldn’t tell if the tremble in her voice was rage or arousal.

Rumlow grinned. “Compliments will get you everywhere, Cap.” He slipped a finger into her – so fucking wet - and felt his cock pulse and harden as she arched inward with a stifled cry. Now, Rumlow thought the tech team was a bunch of annoying pricks on the best of days, but goddamn, this little miracle drug was working wonders. He owed their team leader – Seth or something – a beer for this. Two beers, Rumlow amended as he forced another finger into her and watched her arch, as she threw her head back in a silent scream.

“Yeah, that’s it, Cap.” He motioned to the asset, who momentarily drew back the blade, allowing Brock to latch onto her exposed throat with teeth like a lamprey, hand moving from her breast to the underside of her jaw, holding her head in place as he bit until he tasted fresh blood. He stroked his ring finger along her labia before sliding it into her tight little pussy; he crooked his fingers slightly, the leather over his palm mashing up against her clit as he forced an unsteady stream of whimpers and bitten off cries from her.

“Always knew she was a slut.” Gregory said. From the gruffness in his voice, Rumlow knew that Gregory already had a hand down his pants. There was a thrill of anticipation in the air. Even though Rogers must have known what was coming the moment Pierce had stepped in between her open thighs, her eyes were still wide with rage and disbelief. Rogers’ body was begging for dick, but Rumlow could tell that a part of her still couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he punctuated the endearment with a slow, steady roll of his palm and was rewarded with a full body-shudder. “You’re going to get yours first.”

Cap had the gall the look him in the eye, even as she was dripping around him. “Christ, just get it over with.”

Rumlow sneered at that. “You’re going to be doing this for as long as we want you to, Cap. Fuck, you’re already begging for it now.” He twisted his fingers to emphasive his point.

She smirked and Rumlow felt a surge of irritation. Even as involuntary tremors passed through her body and her voice was strained, it was as if she was still looking down at him. Like he was a goddamn insect not worthy of her attention. “Rumlow, the only thing I’ll be begging you to do is to shut your mouth.”

“You ain’t nothing but a cunt for Hydra, Cap. And you’re gonna learn that lesson real well.”

Her smirk flattened into a grim line and her brows narrowed. Even though her face was flushed and sweaty, he could read on it the same determination on it that always imbued her when she walked onto the battlefield. “Maybe you weren’t listening when I was talking to Pierce: Don’t hold your breath.”

Rumlow snarled and turned his attentions towards exploiting her arousal, working his fingers deep inside her, forcing her open. The asset kept a tight grip on her, knife again pressed to her throat. It didn’t take long, not with a combination of that super-soldier sensitivity and an aphrodisiac running through her veins. She came with a choked-off moan – you fucking love this, Rogers – and a rush of wetness against Rumlow’s hand. As Rumlow extracted his hand from her heaving body with a wet squelch, he noted that her fluids had not only wetted the inside of her thighs but had sluiced downwards from her spread cunt and started to dampen the floor beneath her.

Gregory broke him out of his trance. “Goddammit, Rumlow. Will you hurry up? I’m going to fucking explode over here.”

“Who the fuck told you to start jerking it? Wait your goddamn turn.” Truth be told, Rumlow was getting closer to the edge every as every second ticked by. “Asset,” he snapped. The asset, who had been distracted by the proceedings, looked up. “I want her on her back.”

In a flash, the asset had pocketed the knife and sprung into action, grabbing her securely by the collar and hauling her back. He forced her head to the ground, and barked at Corle and Satre to tighten the chains at her collar. Rogers struggled fiercely, and the asset nearly lost his grip once or twice, but eventually the three of them managed to anchor her securely to the floor. She was forced to rest on her arms which had been manacled behind her back; it arched her lower back forward. Gregory and Matheson helped remove her destroyed clothing and left it a pile in the corner of the room. The asset kneeled at her head, hands on her shoulders, forcing her to stay in place. Brock stood, looking down. Goddamn. What a sight.

Just one more thing. Rumlow pulled out his knife and cut away her panties – she struggled and he left tiny bleeding cuts on her hips as he knifed through the elastic. He ripped away the wet fabric, the last thing shielding her from his gaze. Smirking, he tossed it next to her face. Cap had a ridiculously sensitive nose; there was no way she couldn’t smell herself. Rumlow unzipped himself; he was straining hard against the zipper. He almost forgot the condom in his haste; Brock might have been highly regarded by HYDRA, but they sure as fuck hadn’t ok’d him knocking up Cap.

Roger’s eyes flickered downwards to where his hands were working the rubber. “Well, I suppose I’m should thank you for being safe.” She panted through gritted teeth.

Rumlow moved forward, pressing his body flush against hers as he positioned himself. “Well, it’s nothing personal Cap. It’s not my baby batter HYDRA wants in you.” A flash of disgust passed over her face and for a moment it looked as if she was going to be ill.

And, goddamn, if that just didn’t make him hornier. She had redoubled her efforts to escape, but with the asset securing her there was a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening. Rumlow breached her with the head of his cock and relished in the feel of her tensing around the intrusion. Rogers’ breathing quickened slightly and she clenched her teeth. He forced himself into her, inch by inch, and when he was fully seated, he had to take a long breath because, fuck. Rogers was all pressure and heat; the clench of her muscles around his dick nearly had him coming there and then. It was as if her body couldn’t decide to force him out or pull him in deeper.

He started to thrust, slowly. Any faster and he would have gone off like the zit-faced teenager he used to be the first time senior Betsy Anderson put her hand down his pants. Rogers was still glaring at him, not making a sound except for her an occasional hitch in her remarkably even breathing. Then he shifted back slightly, and re-entered her at a different angle. She inhaled sharply and quickly silenced herself from making further noise by biting her lip.

“How is she?”

“Like a fucking vice.” Rumlow prided himself with the fact that his voice came out only slightly strangled. It was fucking heaven between Cap’s legs. The tightness was only a part of it, although fuck, that in itself was already amazing. God, it felt so fucking good to be giving this self-righteous pain-in-the-ass a taste of Hydra dick. Two goddamn years of being at her beck and call and this almost made it worth it. He rocked forward again and although she didn’t make another sound, he noticed that her lip was starting to bleed where she had bitten down.

He eventually picked up a steady rhythm, repositioning himself occasionally with the intention of catching her off guard as he thrust in. The strategy failed in that respect; didn’t manage to get another peep out of her. However, he noticed that at the very least he had gotten her to shut her fucking mouth. It was when she started tightening around him that he realized she was approaching yet another climax. Rumlow started pounding faster and as she arched again, he scratched his thumbnail across her clit. She came and clenched and the world went white.

“Fuck!” The cry was ripped out of Rumlow’s throat involuntary as his hips stuttered out of rhythm. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…”

When Brock’s vision finally cleared, he glanced down. Rogers’ body was heaving, and she was arched back, blood trickling down her chin freely with her eyes glassy and faraway. Brock grinned and wiped a slick-covered thumb over her bottom lip. She didn’t respond. “It was good for you too, doll, wasn’t it?”

DAMNNNNN perverted grandpa Pierce is MY JAM, and so is turned-on-in-spite-of-herself female!Cap in bondage. AWESOME.

Brock only had a fraction of a second to pull his hand back as Rogers reared forward, teeth snapping closed around thin air. In retrospect, having anything near that mouth was a poor idea; Brock had no doubt that he would have lost his thumb had her teeth closed around it. Brock snarled and backfisted her across the temple, rocking her face into pavement and forcing a grunt out of her.

Gregory was already standing at his side, dick out and condom on. “Hey, quit being a bitch, Rogers. You fucking loved it.” He snapped.

Brock withdrew, reluctantly. He would have loved to see that pink pussy dripping with his come, but alas, that wasn’t under his jurisdiction. Still, having Rogers’ squirm on his cock was one hell of bonus – he would be jerking off to this warm memory for months, fuck who was he kidding, for years to come.

Gregory, impatient bastard that he was, barely allowed Brock to zip up and move aside before he was in her. Rogers, still a little woozy from Brock’s precise backfist across her temple – a move that would have knocked an average person into unconsciousness – blinked once or twice, before realizing there was already another intruder between her legs. Gregory had caught her by surprise and managed to force a gasp or two from her before she steadfastly resumed her silence, looking up at the ceiling. Brock noticed that her gaze flickered towards the chains that held her down every so often, but it wasn’t as if she could do much about them. She had little leverage. The chains had once been used to hold the asset himself, so they were likely up to the challenge of restraining her. Should that fail, the asset was also there.

Brock chuckled a little to himself; Gregory was so consumed with his own hardon that he hadn’t noticed that Rogers had zoned out. The man hovered over her as he thrust away, uttering a stream of filth that would have had his proper Christian wife fainting. Lily Gregory might have been a little uptight, but Brock liked her. By all accounts, Gregory was a perfect husband to her and a wonderful father to a sickeningly adorable pair of twins. He helped his wife cook and clean and his children, Simon and Jessie, were the apple of his eye.

Brock, having no family of his own, wondered how Gregory managed to upkeep his devotion to both– everything STRIKE did was classified, so if wasn’t like Gregory could discuss this over the dinner table. Brock briefly allowed himself to imagine how that would go and the humor of the scene twisted the corner of his mouth into a lopsided smile:

“Hey honey, how was your day at work?”

“Not bad, sweetie, I got to participate in a HYDRA gangbang on Captain America. Can you please pass the mashed potatoes?”

It must have been an enormous amount of stress to live that dual life, some of which probably explained the brutal way in which he was screwing Rogers.

Gregory fucked hard and fast, and frankly, it was boring to watch, especially with Rogers not making a sound. Matheson occasionally called out a heckle or two. It made Brock’s fingers twitch for a cigarette. He hadn’t had one in a week. Brock didn’t indulge himself often – mind over body – but he figured this was a good time for it. He flicked one out and started smoking, inhaling contentedly.

Gregory took a while, eventually finishing with an explosive string of swears. Brock finished a couple of cigarettes in that time. As Gregory pulled out from her, he finally noticed that Rogers didn’t even deign to acknowledge him although he’d just had his dick in her. “Decided to be a good little cunt, huh, Rogers? Maybe you just need a cock in you to keep you in line?”

Roger’s tone bordered on annoyance. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to be paying attention?”

Gregory snarled and slapped her.

Rogers rolled with the slap and let out a long-suffering sigh. “Are you finished yet?”

“Gregory, just let it go.” Rumlow barked. He knew that Rogers could wind Gregory up like a pinball machine without breaking a sweat. “You’ve had your turn.”

Gregory slapped her again and snarled, “Little bitch,” but obeyed Rumlow’s command, saving himself and STRIKE the embarrassment, and stepped out of the away to allow Graham to come forward. The fact that he’d been throwing a temper tantrum because he’d been unable to get Rogers to come on his cock was pretty fucking childish. STRIKE had a reputation to uphold, goddammit. Rumlow made a mental note to pull Gregory aside one day and have another chat with him about his temper.

“Couldn’t get her wet, Gregory?”

“Fuck off, Matheson.”

Matheson chuckled. “I intend to. She’ll be screaming for more after I’m done with her.”

Of the team, Brock liked Matheson the least although he kept it well hidden. Matheson wasn’t stupid; Pierce always made sure he selected the best and the brightest for STRIKE. But Matheson had a kind of inflated ego that STRIKE had worked hard to break down; for some reason, it had survived intact despite all the trials that all of them had endured. It was a liability on missions, and they were all fortunate that it had never become a serious issue, thus far. However, Matheson was still one of theirs in the end. A dismayed shout broke Brock’s thinking and he looked down to see Matheson’s hips stuttering in Rogers. Rogers’ retained her unimpressed expression; hell she didn’t even need to say anything. The guys were going to give him shit for this.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Gregory asked, incredulous. “What was that, a minute, tops?”

“Fuck off, you assholes.” Matheson gasped, still breathless from coming.

Even Satre shook his head, before motioning to Brock for a bathroom break. Brock had a guess to what he was up to – Satre had some pretty special equipment he used for his lays. “You’re never living this down, Matheson.”

Corle, who typically quiet, snorted loud enough for everyone to hear. Brock was sure that the soldier’s face mask was hiding an ugly smirk.

Martin guffawed. “Who said that he was going to make Rogers scream? Fuck, look at her, I think she’s fallin’ asleep.”

Rumlow frowned. Rogers had been unusually quiet although part of it was probably that Gregory and Matheson had apparently zero idea of what to do with their dicks. Well, hopefully Graham and Satre – definitely – would force Rogers to pay a little more attention to what was happening.

“Graham, you’re up next.” Rumlow commanded, trying to take his mind off the uneasy feeling niggling at the back of his head. “You better make sure she comes on your cock. Christ, this is fuckin’ embarrassing.”

Matheson made noises of protests but laughter from the others eventually silenced him as Graham stepped up. Graham was STRIKE’s newest recruit, only been with them a year; kid was only twenty-four, but he was good at his job and learned fast. He also had a crush on Rogers a mile wide. Rogers had noticed and had made sure to keep the relationship between the two of them as professional as possible. Heh, Brock thought as he watched Graham position himself, professionalism is fucking overrated sometimes. Graham’s hands shook a little as he opened up his fly and put on the condom.

“You aren’t a virgin, are you kid?” Brock asked.

Graham shot a glare at him venomous enough to cover up any insecurities he might have about screwing his former leader and fantasy girl. “Go fuck yourself.” After a moment, he added, “Sir.”

“Graham, you don’t have to do this.” Rogers had caught onto his hesitation; that voice was pure Rogers, stern, commanding and sure.

Matheson cut in, jeeringly. “C’mon kid it’ll be a rite of passage.”

“Yeah, one that hopefully lasts more than a minute.” Gregory sneered back, still not over Matheson’s earlier insult.

Brock cut them both off. “Jesus, shut the fuck up. Graham, wanna give Rogers an answer?”

Graham returned her steady gaze, and held it as he lowered his mouth between her legs and gave her a long, slow lick. Rogers closed her eyes and breathed hard through her nose. Well, look at that.

“Holy shit.” Martin’s voice was strangled. Brock made a vague noise of assent.

Graham licked his lips and moved up and over her, lining up his hips with hers. He ran a hand down her side, nails digging and leaving furrows. She shuddered as he rubbed his cock against her swollen opening. “But I want to do it.” He ground harder, cock teasing her. She gritted her teeth. “And you want it.”

Rogers made a last ditch effort. “Don’t do this, Graham. It’s not too to back out of this.”

“You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

Rogers’s expression grew grim.

Graham shifted, pressing his thigh up against her opening. Slowly, he started to rub against her; the muscles in Rogers’ thighs tightened in response although she didn’t make a sound. He continued his steady motion and watched with fascination as Rogers tensed and arched under the friction. She came, wetting the fabric of his pants; the rest of the team filled the air with filthy comments. Graham, however, wasn’t satisfied with a single orgasm. He continued his grinding and was eventually rewarded with a second climax from Rogers. A shudder ran through Rogers’ body; it was a good look on her. The HYDRA leadership would definitely have no trouble getting their rocks off when she was finally under them.

Graham was a little out of breath and he tripped over his next words. “Now, now, I’m gonna give you what you need.” He scrabbled a little, to try and reposition himself between her legs when they all heard a *snap.*

Rogers had drawn her leg back and slammed her foot forward into Graham’s throat. She forced him off of her sideways, ramming him headfirst into the ground. Brock had immediate flashbacks of Halloway’s crushed trachea. Gregory, who was positioned closest to her free leg immediately started forward, but stopped short when Rogers’ scream ripped through the air. The asset had turned the stun baton on to the maximum setting and was holding it to her arm. He kept it on for another twenty seconds before finally switching it off. Rogers was still twitching as Gregory and Corle re-secured her leg.

Ridge and Satre – who had come running back in at the commotion – had already pulled Graham away from Rogers, and was checking his pulse and the condition of his throat. “He’s fine. He’s got one hell of a concussion though, and his airway will be bruised for a few days.”

“He need the hospital?”

“No, I can take care of him here.”

Rumlow jerked his head towards the exit. “Get him out of here.”

Ridge and Corle quickly slung Graham’s arms over their shoulders and headed to the breakroom where Daniels was still nursing his broken balls. Ridge glanced down at Rogers. “Hey, don’t fuck her up too bad. Daniels and I will come up with something fun. Maybe show her a good time first.” Rumlow smirked. Of the group assembled here, Daniels and Ridge were the more sadistic of the bunch. The asset, well, he was in a class of his own.

Rumlow returned his attention to the bonds that were supposed to secure Rogers. “What the hell happened?”

Martin held up the chain, showing a break in one of the links. “It was stressed pretty badly at one point. She just had to pull hard enough on it to snap.” Rumlow thought back – it must have been the single chain that the techs had used to secure Rogers when she first arrived. Gregory had already attached a new ankle cuff over the bruised flesh of her ankle and reattached the chain to the floor hooks. Christ, never a dull moment with you Rogers. Rogers’ eyes fluttered open a minute after they had re-secured her. Good. He wanted her to be awake for this.

Brock nodded to Satre. “Satre, you know what to do.”

Satre stood over her, making sure she got a good look at the piercings that dotted the head of his cock. Each of the four piercings was about a centimeter in size and roughened. Brock had seen the openings left by the ornamentation – when you were a tight-knit military unit, you tended to live in each other’s pockets – but he’d never seen Satre actually put the piercings in until now. Satre stroked himself steadily.

Rogers raised an eyebrow and croaked. “Am I supposed to be impressed by this?”

Satre smiled genially and knelt between her legs, palming her and occasionally slipping his fingers in between the folds. Light tremors passed through her body as she had not yet completely recovered from the stun baton. “I’m sorry your welcome to HYDRA has been unpleasant. Unfortunately, you’re making it extremely difficult for us to make this an enjoyable experience for you.”

Rogers snorted, incredulous even though her voice was still weak from the electricity. “You have to be fucking kidding me.”

Satre replied by sliding his cock into her and started fucking her raw. Satre was the only one besides the soldier who’d be allowed to come in her for this session. He’d had his vas deferens cut years ago – no pregnancy threat there. It took a while to get a reaction out of her. However, as he continued to thrust, she eventually squeezed her eyes shut and opened her mouth in unexpected pleasure. Rogers’ pussy had already taken a thorough pounding, but the drag of those rough surfaces against her inner folds had her wriggling under Satre’s clever strokes. The jeers started again.

His voice was roughened by pleasure. “You’re very wet, Rogers.”

“You should thank your- Ah!” Satre quickly thrust back in, catching her off guard. She was gasping but she finished her sentence anyways. “-scientists for their little rape drug.”

Satre pulled out of her completely and ran the head of his cock along the length of her cunt, dragging his piercings across her labia and clit. She squirmed, trying to get away from the sensation.

“Just enjoy it, Rogers.” He continued to tease her delicate folds.

“Like hell.”

He then slipped back into her and thrust a few more times before pulling out and caressing her outer folds with his piercings once more. Satre, like Brock, changed the angle of entry during penetration, reentering Rogers at a different angle each time he pulled out. Satre’s efforts were met with a much more overt response in the form of gasps. Then he slowed, holding her off from climax. Rogers mewled a little at the slowed stimulation.

“Stop using the drug as an excuse, Rogers.” Rumlow could see how much it took Satre to hold himself back from thrusting faster.

She ground out “Keep telling yourself that,” even as her hips kept twitching upwards towards Satre.

Satre sped up again, and had Rogers gritting her teeth to try to keep quiet. He slowed once more, and Brock could see a hint of frustration come over Rogers’ face as her body was still crying out for the rough penetration. However, Satre couldn’t hold off forever; after a few minutes, he finally gave in to the warm wetness around his cock and started thrusting fiercely into her. Rogers came with a moan, Satre with a grunt.

Satre stayed in for a minute, panting heavily, thrusting a little as if he were trying to mix his ejaculate with her secretions. He pulled out and a trickle of white followed. Brock saw him catch it with a finger and push it back into her. “You’ll serve HYDRA well, Rogers. You’ll come to see it. You’ll be a good soldier, just like the rest of us.”

Rogers, already breathing steady, looked at Satre and scoffed. “I’ve never been good at following orders. Especially not from goddamned bullies like you.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Cap. Just go with the flow will you?” Martin, who was next in line, was huge. It was the reason he was one of the last people in line. He unzipped himself and brought his cock out.

Martin’s package was admittedly porn worthy. In Brock’s opinion, however, it wasn’t how big it was that mattered, it was how you used it. Whereas Satre had operated with a significant amount of restraint and skill, Martin had a distinct lack of both. He just stuck it in and pounded away all the while commenting it was a good thing his dick was so big because Cap was already completely wrecked by the cocks that had come before his. The monologue was kind of embarrassing to be honest. Most of the others joined in with dirty insults, anyhow.

The door swished open, admitting Corle. Daniels limped in after, pissed expression on his face, plastic bag of melting ice pressed to his crotch. “Satre, you’re on Graham-watching duty. Ridge is coming back in a few.” Daniels called.

Satre, having done his duty, gave a sharp nod and exited the room.

Matheson whistled. “Fuck, gotcha right in the balls, did she now?”

“You sure you’re gonna be able to do your duty?” Gregory hadn’t taken his eyes from the lurid scene of Martin merrily pounding away at Rogers. The man did have an impressive cock although he apparently only knew how to use it as a fucking jackhammer.

Daniels rolled his eyes as he limped forward, still in enough pain that he wasn’t coming up with the most creative insults. “I fucking hate you guys sometimes.”

Martin finished with an explosive shout. He grunted as he thrust a few more times inside of Rogers, but she simply kept her eyes trained on the ceiling. After Martin had finally pulled out, he gave Daniels a smug look. “Don’t worry too much about it, this cunt ain’t good for anything else after I’ve been in it.”

Daniels glanced down. “So, maybe it’s time to tighten her up a little.” Martin moved away, zipping up his fly and Daniels claimed his spot. “Hey, Cap. Shouldn’t have done what you did out there.

“Daniels, you’re absolutely right. I should have broken your neck instead of kneeing you in the balls.” Cap’s voice was surprisingly conversational for the situation.

Daniels chuckled, mean and low. “Yeah, you definitely should have.” He looked down and whistled. “Damn, they did a number on you, didn’t they? Looks sore. Let me help your out a bit.” The bag he had pressed to his groin was now open; he extracted a piece of ice with gloved fingers and raised it so that Cap could see what was going to happen. The muscle at her jaw tightened. Well, shit. Brock was impressed at Daniels’ creativity. They all knew how much Cap hated the cold but no one else had thought to exploit it until now.

“Go to hell.”

“Nah, baby, you’re already in it. Why would I want to be anywhere else?”

Daniels pressed the ice against her cunt and watched with sadistic glee as she jerked back. “Hmmmm, doesn’t really seem to be working. Maybe if we just had a little more.” Daniels selected two particularly large pieces which almost covered his entire palm. He pushed her lips apart, and pressed them up against her open cunt and listened to her gasp and writhe as she struggled in vain to reduce the surface area of the ice in contact with her.

It was at that moment that Ridge walked in, carrying a large pitcher of ice cold water and a towel. Rogers as distracted as she was, noticed the new props and the look on her face hardened.

“Daniels, how you doing over there?”

“Looks like our patient is responding to the treatment.”

“I’d sue for malpractice.” Cap gasped.

“Good to know.” Ridge placed the pitcher at Cap’s side, and knelt, straddling her torso so that she could only see his backside. Ridge turned his attention to the melting ice pressed against the soft folds. He watched as Daniels held the ice there until both pieces had melted completely, the cold water joining her fluids on the concrete floor around her hips.

Ridge slipped a finger into her. The roughness and heat of Ridge’s callused forefinger must have startled her because she strained upwards against chained collar and the soldier who had been holding her down the entire time. The soldier, caught a little by surprise, slammed her back down hard.

“Still not as tight as I’d like.”

Martin snorted. “Ridge, if you didn’t have a pencil dick, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

Ridge ignored Martin and glanced behind him at Rogers straining on the floor. “No one’s tried her mouth so far?”

“Put anything in my mouth and you will lose it.” Rogers snapped.

Ridge motioned to Daniels, and the pair switched places. Looking down from between her legs, Ridge issued his ultimatum. “Here’s the deal Rogers, your cunt is fucking wrecked. So, Daniels and I have a little something to help keep you tightened up.” He motioned to the towel and water lying right at her eyeline. “Or, an alternative. You beg for my cock in your mouth all nice and pretty and we don’t waterboard you half to death.”

Rogers had the gall to laugh. “If you think you can get me to beg for your dick, I must really have knocked something loose in that thick skull of yours.”

Daniels already had the towel in his hands. “We’re only going to offer once more, Rogers.”

“Fuck you.”

Daniels drove a knee into her stomach, forcing the breath from her lungs in a gasp. Not a bad idea. Cap could hold her breath for up to ten minutes. He draped the towel over her face and the asset aided by holding it in place. He started splashing the water over her toweled face; it was a minute and eleven seconds before Cap started to struggle in earnest. During that time, Ridge had inserted two fingers into her, monitoring her tightness. About a minute and half after she had started struggling, he pulled out his cock, put on the condom and rammed it into Rogers’ spasming body. About seven minutes in, when Rogers started to seize, Daniels removed the cloth and Rogers choked, spitting out a good amount of water.

“Had enough, hunh, had enough you cocky little bitch?”

She gasped, and choked for a few seconds longer, before looking Rumlow straight in the eyes. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

Daniels barked at the asset to replace the cloth and her methodically poured the rest of the water over her face. It took another four minutes for Ridge to come as he raped her. However, even after Ridge pulled out, Daniels didn’t give the order to release the towel. He waited another full eight minutes before telling the asset to remove the cloth. During that time, Rogers struggles because more urgent as she was denied oxygen.

Daniels gleefully watched her futile fight. “Christ, the bitch was so hungry for a good fuck she chose a cock in her cunt over breathing.”

When Daniels finally gave the order to remove the towel, Rogers was choking and spitting, desperate for air. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her breasts heaved as she drew air back into her lungs and her body was shaking. Her lips were tinged blue. Daniels settled on her, not allowing her to catch her breath easily.

“Had enough yet, you little cockslut?”

She didn’t respond for a moment, still pulling air into her lungs. But when she’d partially regained her breath, she bared her teeth in a parody of a smile. “I can do this all day.”

Well, who was Rumlow to deny her? “Looks like you’re gonna get your wish, Cap. Asset,” Rumlow called. “It’s your show now.”

The switch in leadership in the room was palpable. The boys knew who was in charge for the remainder this little session. Daniels and Ridge obediently rose and gathered their props, leaving Rogers still heaving in a mess of slowly warming water. The asset let go of her and rose, looking down at her. She glanced up, stubborn look on her face. He looked at her, carefully, eyes flickering up and down her body and face, as if thinking of the best way to break her. Rogers didn’t say anything; she’d seen him in action and it looked like she was mentally steeling herself for the grotesque final act of her hours-long gangrape.

Then, the Winter Soldier, struck like a rattlesnake as he whipped out his stun baton and drove it into the edge into the puddle Rogers was lying on with a sharp smack. As soon as the baton hit the water, he thumbed on the on-switch. Rogers managed to bite off her scream half-way, but this was a completely different situation from the elevator. She had been covered in armor at that point and that repelled the shock to a significant degree. Here, now, she had no protection, as she lay naked and wet on the floor. When the soldier finally released the on-switch, Rogers was twitching. He walked over to stand between her legs, and knelt, waiting for her to regain her breath. Just as her breathing was starting to even out, he activated the stun baton in the water once again. Her body was forced to dance to the electricity’s tune, but this time, she remained stubbornly silent. The soldier’s head cocked and then he leaned forward in anticipation. Brock could read it in his body language: he was going to have fun breaking her.

The soldier drew the baton across different points of her body, applying erratic pulses of charge under her breasts, along the bruises on her ribs, and her inner thighs. The air was soon filled with the sharp sounds of her pained and surprised cries. He kept this up for some time, not allowing her a chance to recover. Then, he lined up the baton flush to her open pussy and thumbed the switch on.

Rogers shrieked.

The soldier, finally satisfied with the amount of noise Rogers was making, holstered the baton after half-a-minute. He pressed the middle finger of his human hand into her, and explored her, and seemed satisfied by her tightness. However, he seemed annoyed by the trail of white Satre had left behind. He picked up the ruined panties that Rumlow had parted from her and proceeded to wipe away some of the mess between her thighs. It was as if wanted a fresh slate to mark and soil. The asset’s possessiveness didn’t surprise Rumlow. The asset owned nothing, not his own body, not even his own mind. He was HYDRA’s.

“Rogers is a little gift for all his years of service; the Winter Soldier knows this.” Pierce had discussed this with Rumlow once. “I’m sure he’ll take very good care of her.”

A few minutes passed before Rogers stirred again. Her words were still shaky. “I suppose Pierce is letting his lapdog off the leash for once.” Her eyes flickered from the asset to Rumlow’s face.

“Well, you’ll forgive him for being a little uninhibited then, won’t you, Rogers? It’s been a long while since he’s had a woman.”

Matheseon sing-songed, “Not so long since he’s had a dick up his ass though.”

Rumlow rolled his eyes. For fuck sakes, now was not the time to be talking about what Pierce got up to with the asset. “Sweet Christ, Matheson, shut the fuck up.”

“Quiet. All of you.”

They started. The asset had spoken.

The Winter Soldier addressed Rogers directly. “You belong to me. You belong to HYDRA. You will obey us, unconditionally.”

That got a rise out of her. “And become a monster like you? No thanks, I’ll pass.” She spat disdainfully; her voice was beginning to regain a little strength.

The asset continued. “Your place in the new order has been determined. And you will obey.”

“I’d rather die.”

The asset paused for a moment. “That is no longer your choice.” He stated it a tone so matter-of-fact that Brock knew that the asset could only have made such a statement in that manner if he himself had been denied the release of death in the past.

The Winter Soldier removed his mask and Rogers froze. The blood drained from her face so rapidly, she almost looked like the supposed corpse that Nick Fury had pulled from the ice two years ago.

“Bucky?” Her voice was a whisper.

The asset’s brow twitched slightly at that and he responded with an automatic, “Who the hell is Bucky?” He went about the business of removing his leather top. It was a complex piece of armor that made the asset look menacing as hell, but was a pain in the ass to remove. And Pierce got pissy if you sliced it off. As if the secretary didn’t have enough in the bank to keep the soldier in rich supply of kinky armor for decades of top secret missions. The asset was a big boy that could dress and undress himself, but even he had to be patient while undoing the buckles of his armor.

“Quiet.”

Rogers, predictably, didn’t listen. Rage shook through her whole body. “Is this---is this some kind of sick joke?” When the asset didn’t respond she turned her head towards Brock and shouted, voice still recovering from screaming, “Is this some kind of sick joke you bastard?!”

Brock wisely remained silent; there was no way he was saying anything to jeopardize the mission – the asset could get pretty erratic when any hinting of his past might come up. This was the asset’s call and not his, although he wondered what the fuck Pierce was thinking by letting the asset take his mask off in front of Rogers. No way the soldier would have done it without Pierce’s ok. Brock already knew the secretary didn’t like Rogers, but after this little display he knew for a fact that he hated her. There was no other reason why he’d risk one of the greatest weapons that HYDRA had ever built for a brief session of torture.

The asset rose over her, armor hanging half open, exposing a slice of well-muscled chest. He backhanded her with the metal hand into stunned silence. He then freed the last couple of buckles on his armor, and rolled his shoulders back, peeling the leather from his skin. His opened leather top dropped gracefully off his back and caught on the inner crook of his elbows. He then transferred the top to one hand and tossed aside the armor. It landed with a heavy thud near Corle’s feet.

Rogers’ eyes automatically twitched to his bared forearm and from the second wave of shock that rushed over her face, Brock knew that she had seen the faint, almost imperceptible jagged scar that had never faded, confirming Barnes’ identity. Brock, when he was chosen to be one of the soldiers’ secondary handlers, was well aware of the marking: it was a scar that Barnes had had since childhood and Zola’s tinkering had never healed it.

The soldier might have been unmasked and half-naked, but there was no sign of vulnerability about him. He looked more like a wolf, finally set free from its collar and muzzle, ready to hunt. And Rogers, for the first time looking truly out of her depth, was the prey.

“Bucky, what did they do to you?” Her voice was an unsteady murmur. The asset ignored her query and moved over her, back muscles rippling in the lights overhead. Her voice quavered. “What did they do to you?”

The asset gripped her jaw and moved her head to the side, exposing her neck to him. He ran a tongue over the fading bite mark that Brock had left and started to nibble at her neck just above the collar.

“Bucky, it’s me, Stella, your wife.” A plea slipped into her voice and the sound went straight to Brock’s dick. “Bucky, please, don’t do this!”

Well, well, would you look at that. Five cocks and waterboarding and electroshock had done jack shit, but one glance at her not-so-dead husband and she was reduced to helpless begging.

Suddenly, the asset moved off of her. Brock’s hand instantly dropped to his gun; so did Corle’s. Shit, did we fuck this up?

“I said: quiet.”

The asset reached back and picked up Rogers’ torn panties in his metal hand. He forced her jaw open and shoved the soaked wad of cloth into her mouth, achieving two goals: silencing her pleas and forcing her to taste the evidence of her own arousal. Fuck, functional and hot. Brock released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. The asset’s programming had held firm.

“Gregory, duct tape.”

Gregory was out the door in an instant and returned in thirty seconds, duct tape in hand. He tossed it to the asset, who causally plucked it out of the air without looking. The asset stripped off an appropriate amount of tape, metal hand strong enough to rip the tape cleanly. He taped it securely over Rogers’ mouth, muffling her pleas. He started again at her throat, just under the collar, and worked his way down her body, leaving mix of welted flesh and bleeding bitemarks on her breasts, abdomen, and inner thighs. He rubbed his skin against hers, like a panther marking its’ territory, banishing the scent of the other men that had come before him.

The asset then pressed his face between her legs, licking and suckling. Rogers’ back arched and her body tensed. She was mewling through the gag. There was a desperation to her movements now, as she tried to raise herself off the floor, but couldn’t as the collar at her neck prevent her from moving up. The asset glanced up from his job and strengthened his efforts, this time coordinating his tongue with the fingers of his human hand. Rumlow didn’t have the best view, but he didn’t need to see anything to know that the asset had started steadily fucking her with his fingers, as the wet, squelching sounds of rhythmic penetration filled the room. Her body was tensing like a bow string and from very recent observation, Rumlow knew she was on the verge of coming.

The asset anticipated it, and in a flash, had repositioned himself, his hips pressed snugly against Rogers’ hips. He entered her in one quick, brutal stroke forcing her to orgasm unwillingly around his invading cock. Rumlow smirked as he saw a surprised look come over the asset’s face. Yeah, not a single guy in the room had been able to hold off blowing their load the moment Rogers came and clenched. It was as if she was pulling the orgasm from your body. The asset moved forward and leaned over her as he rode out his orgasm. The asset must have had a hell of a buildup because even from this angle, Brock could see the slow drip of white start to join the wet patch on the concrete floor. Rogers was dripping already, but from the way she jerked her head upwards, she must have felt him come in her.

Matheson had never seen the asset in action before. He snorted and sneered aloud with a laugh, “I didn’t realize that the hand of HYDRA was a fucking preemie.”

The asset inclined his head slowly and deliberately towards the sound of the disturbance and Brock had to bite back grin as Matheson blanched at the death glare the asset leveled at him. “Watch and learn, mozgoyob.”

The soldier’s eyes flickered back down towards Rogers. He saw Rogers still trying to talk through the tape and she was straining up towards him. He looked at her and smiled – surprisingly soft and gentle – as he raised a hand to her face and pressed his forehead to hers. Rogers leaned into the touch as much as she could. “Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

The look in her eyes went from fleeting hope to devastation. She jerked away. “Don’t worry, I’m going to give you what you need.” The soldier started steadily thrusting into Rogers. He placed his human hand on one breast, massaging it, as he laved the nipple of her other with a clever tongue. Her whimpers, as much as she was trying to silence herself, grew in number and volume as he guided her forcefully to her next climax. A shudder tore through her body as he forced her over the edge; Rogers took him with her again, but even after coming twice in ten minutes, the soldier was still hard and didn’t even pause in his pounding.

Now, the soldier was fucking talented when it came to the bedroom. This wasn’t the first woman he’d taken to bed. Once, Brock had been on watch detail for the asset one evening while he entertained one of Pierce’s buddies. Woman probably had the best night of her life. She didn’t stop wailing for hours, partly to Brock’s annoyance and arousal. Even when her wailing had petered off into quiet, breathy moans, the asset didn’t stop there – he continued playing with her willing body until she passed out from the pleasure. That wasn’t the only time Brock had seen the soldier put his sexual prowess to use, but it was the one that first came to mind because the woman had looked a lot like Rogers – blonde hair, great tits, nice ass.

The soldier sat back on his heels, changing the angle of penetration and stilled. Then, instead of thrusting he hefted Rogers’ hips and fucked her onto his cock. There was just enough give in the chains that collared her that the soldier was able to move her tight channel back and forth along the entire length of his cock comfortably. She squirmed, but Brock could tell she had little control over how the soldier was using her. As the soldier manhandled her, Brock noted a new flush reddening her cheeks and moans that were getting louder though she was desperately trying to stop it. A knowing smirk that crooked the soldier’s lips confirmed it. Rogers was getting off on being used. Five minutes passed. Then, she was wailing through the gag as she climaxed.

“Well, that was inspiring.” Gregory whistled softly; his eyes were a little wide after that display.

Brock didn’t bother looking away from the asset and Rogers. “He ain’t done yet.”

“What?”

Brock didn’t elaborate; Gregory hadn’t worked long shifts with the asset before in which he was either taking down marks, being fucked or in this case, fucking. The asset was always determined to get the job done. Make sure she enjoys it. Well, the soldier was going to make sure Rogers sure as hell would.

The asset reached down and undid one of the ankle cuffs. Rogers kicked wildly with the freed limb, but the asset gripped her leg and tucked it over his left arm, and rotated her onto her side while he was still in her. It gave Brock’s half of the room an amazing view; the asset was preparing to fuck her sideways. Rogers reacted to the repositioning with a muffled cry of protest. For the first time since her ordeal had started, Brock noticed there was a flash of humiliation on her face, although she quickly schooled it away.

Barnes placed a steadying hand on the curve of her hip, and almost completely withdrew. As he did so, his come, kept only inside of Rogers only by the presence of his cock, started to leak out. Then, he thrust back into her rapidly a few times, only to pause once again with his cock half-in and allow the rest of the room to watch both his leavings and vaginal fluids trickle from where he and Rogers were joined.

“Well, fuck me stupid.” Martin broke the silence. The soldier was putting on a show for them. Brock realized with a start why Rogers had looked humiliated at the treatment. Brock was betting that if wasn’t for Barnes, she would have just ridden out the entire gangbang with that fucking enraging, self-righteous stoicism of hers. Brock – and his dick, in particular – thanked the secretary for suggesting they use the soldier for this particular event.

Barnes started to thrust into Rogers, and all of them were treated to the sight of Barnes’ well-sized dick spreading that sweet pussy wide repeatedly. Rogers was also reacting; they’d only really done her missionary style so far – hell it wasn’t like they had super-strength to keep her in place, they’d had to rely on both the shackles and the asset. It limited options. The angle was completely new and extracting more undesired arousal from her traitorous body.

Then, about halfway out of his thrust, the soldier paused. He continued to grip her leg with the metal hand. With the other hand, he started to lightly trace the join between Rogers’ wet folds and his cock. Rogers gasped and tried to wriggle away from this newest humiliation, but Barnes patiently kept up his efforts. He was eventually rewarded with another orgasm as a shudder rippled through her body. Brock wasn’t looking at the soldier’s face at that point, but he watched as new semen started to appear where the pair was joined. Shit, at this point, Rogers must have been filled to the brim. Brock’s hypothesis was confirmed as the asset pushed pulled out fully, and a slop of semen and vaginal secretions followed, coating the crotch of the asset’s pants and Rogers’ inner thighs.

The soldier’s eyes flickered down, eyes examining his handiwork. He drew a finger through her soft, wet folds; it came away white and glistening. Rogers whined a little at the inspection. He motioned to Brock as he slammed Rogers’ free ankle back onto the pavement which forcing her onto her belly. “Rehook the cuff. Loosen it by five links.” He said in gruff Russian. Brock complied, curious to see what was coming next. The soldier commanded the same with the other ankle cuff, and the asset kept an iron grip on that ankle as well as the chain was loosened. Rogers, as soon as she had extra slack in the chain, had started struggling in earnest again; however, she didn’t have that new mobility for long.

The soldier knelt between her re-chained legs and forced Rogers’ ass up in the air and spread her cheeks. Rumlow’s gut tightened in anticipation, and he could feel any blood he had left in his body making a quick journey south. Now, Brock personally had no love for performing anal sex. Shit wasn’t as cracked up as it was all to be. Way too much prep time and well, it just didn’t feel as good as a wet, clenching cunt. But watching it was whole ‘nother fucking story. That that woman was Rogers and that man was her once-thought-dead sweetheart? Fuck, this was better than the hottest porn he’d ever watched; even though Brock was pushing fifty and he’d just come like a fucking geyser an hour ago, his dick was taking a renewed interest in the proceedings.

The sweet pucker of her ass was already stained with sexual fluids. The soldier slipped his human hand over her wet pussy, his hand coming away a mess. Taking a dripping finger, he started to open the tensed muscle of her asshole. It took a while. Slowly, but steadily, the asset added a second finger, then a third. She squirmed, and tried to move away, but the soldier ended her struggles by slipping the fingers of his metal hand into her still twitching vagina, anchoring her in place. The metal arm had no give, and he forced her to comply as he prepared her for his cock. While the stubborn ring of muscle was gradually giving way, the asset continued to tease her cunt with the fingers of his metal hand. Rogers’ feet scrabbled on the concrete floor, but there was so little give in the chains, her efforts came to naught.

“Fuck, I think she’s getting off on it.” Gregory whispered to Brock, eyes fixed on the metal hand. Rogers’ may have been struggling, but it was almost if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to get away from the touch or grind into it.

The soldier spoke, confirming Gregory’s observation: “You seem to enjoy my left hand more than my right.”

Rogers huffed, angrily, and cursed, even though it was muffled by the gag. It didn’t matter: a minute later she came. The asset seemed to radiate a smug sense of satisfaction, even though his expression didn’t change. He steadily worked both of her openings until he forced another orgasm out of her. Barnes couldn’t feel anything using the metal arm, but the close-up visuals of Rogers’ pussy contracting around those metal fingers must have been something to behold. A couple of lines of slick had traced their way down the asset’s metal forearm and trickled between some of the plates. She slumped a little, breathing a more rapidly from the orgasm and her struggles.

The asset removed his hand from her cunt, and leaned over her, gripping her collar. He commanded Corle to undo both of the chains at her collar. It was a mistake. She drove her head back, fast, slamming into his nose with an audible crunch. All of them started forward, but before they had even finished taking the first step, the Asset already had the situation under control. He had the collar in an iron grip, ending her small rebellion.

Brock twitched when he noticed that the asset had a tell-tale smirk on his face; it was the one that always reminded Brock of this: Barnes might not have consented to becoming the soldier, but now he didn’t just do the job willingly, he fucking enjoyed it. Brock had recalled it seeing that smirk, just once, years ago on a simple hit turned into a month-long mission. When the asset had finally caught up with the HYDRA defector and had skinned him alive, he had had that same expression on his face the entire time the man was shrieking for death. Fuck, Brock had a hardy stomach, but he definitely tossed his cookies that day in the jungle. He couldn’t eat meat for weeks after.

The asset darted out a tongue to taste the blood trickling down from his nose to his mouth. His smirk widened as he drew Rogers face closer to his own. Rogers, shockingly, glared back stubbornly. Everything in her stance, even as semen dripped out of her and bruises and scratches covered her naked body, screamed defiance.

Rogers had wetted the metal hand as the asset had prepared her; he re-lubricated his cock with her secretions and then positioned her over his lap. He breached her slowly at first, and then surged upwards, powerful thighs forcing the rest of his cock into Rogers unexpectedly. She screamed; and for the first time, tears of pain appeared in her eyes. The asset allowed a moment for adjustment – the clench of his teeth showed he wasn’t immune to the tightness that surrounded him.

“Corle.” The kid snapped to attention. The soldier spoke to him in Russian-accented English. “Are you ready for your turn? You’re going to teach her what her new place in HYDRA is.”

Shock widened Rogers’ eyes and she whipped her face towards Barnes. Holy shit. Barnes was educating his HYDRA protégé how to violate his wife and make sure she enjoyed the experience. Also, the soldier was using English, not Russian, which was what he usually spoke with Corle. He wanted everyone in the room to listen to and understand how he was going to degrade Rogers. There was also an extra twist to the proceedings: Rogers had no idea who Corle really was.

“Hail HYDRA.” Brock heard Gregory whisper. Hail Hydra indeed. Fuck, Brock admitted he was a sick puppy and there was still no way in hell could he come up with this shit on the fly. Then again, he saw what the asset went through on a regular basis. There were about a thousand and one reasons why Barnes was such a cold-hearted bastard and the most fucking effective agent that HYDRA had ever produced. Brock silently thanked whatever gods out there that Barnes was on their side.

Corle nodded, walked over and knelt between her and the assets’ open legs.

“Put your hands on her breasts.” Corle obeyed. “Massage them. Make her feel good.”

Corle started rubbing them, tentative at first as he gauged her reaction, and then more firmly as he heard her breath hitch.

“Put your mouth on her.”

Corle moved forward, suckling at her nipples as she tried to escape his attentions.

“Touch her.” Corle shifted a hand, downwards to the wet heat the asset was teasing, a human finger ghosting over her clit. Corle slipped a long finger in Rogers’ folds and watched. “Another.” Corle complied. “Another.” A third finger joined the other two. “Make her listen.”

Corle complied, teasing apart the wet folds with soft squelches that became quite noticeable in a room that that fallen silent. The asset occasionally thrust forward, forcing those long fingers deeper into her body with a wet shlick. Rogers had screwed her eyes shut, muscle at her jaw tensed.

“Make her moan.”

It took a few minutes, but soon enough, Rogers was making muffled noises against the gag as the asset worked her from behind and Corle explored her from the front. The asset’s smile widened as he listened to the reluctant noises that they coaxed out of her.

“Condom.”

Rogers tried to catch the asset’s eye as best she could from an angle. She whimpered, and Brock could tell she was pleading even though he couldn’t understand anything she was saying. He caught her eye, and said, clearly, “Steady, Corle. Make her feel it.” She closed her eyes and turned her head away. Fuck, that was cold. Corle watched in fascination as her breath stuttered as he slowly sheathed himself in her; it was obvious that Corle had become even more aroused by her unwillingness. It looked like sadism really did run in the family.

A tear made its way down her bruised cheek, and the soldier leaned in, and lapped it up slowly. He latched onto her ear, sucked it into his mouth and held it firmly between his teeth. With the lobe still trapped between his teeth, he whispered in a low voice. “Shhh now, be patient.”

The asset started to move, thrusting slowly first in long strokes. Corle followed. It took a few thrusts, but soon the asset and Corle were slowly moving in tandem. Rogers, trapped between the two of them, had little choice but to surrender to their attentions. If it hadn’t been for the gag and the chains and the bruises, it would have appeared that they were making love to her instead of violating her brutally.

The asset spoke which surprised Rumlow a little. He usually didn’t say too much. Apparently, he was in the mood to share today. “Shall I tell you about your newest lover?” Rogers’ eyes remained shut as if she could block out his words.

“His name used to be Johnathan Englebert.” Rogers’ eyes flew open at the revelation, and Barnes smiled, pleased at the recognition. “But he had to change it, for obvious reasons.”

“Being the great-grandchild of the Red Skull himself is a privilege; but he truly proved himself when he slit the throat of his traitor mother.”

Helena Englebert was the Red Skull’s biological granddaughter. However, as the black sheep of the family, she fought against everything that the Skull and his daughter, Sinthea Schmidt, fought for. Helena had been one of SHIELD’s greatest allies. She had served in a post at the WSC for many years and was brilliant and determined and principled. Had she still been around, there was a good chance that Project Insight would never have gotten off the ground. She wielded a substantial amount of influence within SHIELD upper ranks. Coupled with Peggy Carter, HYDRA found their hands tied in many respects even though they were able to force their plans for the world forward one slow step at a time. However, when Carter was forced to resign due to health problems and increasingly nasty internal politics, Englebert was one of the first people they eliminated. The official cause of death read as unknown because no body had ever been recovered. The four-person helicopter carrying Helena had crashed out at open sea and only the mangled remains of the pilot had been found and subsequently cremated. Both Helena and her only son, Jonathan, were victims of the tragedy.

Only STRIKE and the upper echelon members knew the full truth of Helena’s death. She had died on her knees in front of the Winter Soldier pleading with her son to stay his hand. Jonathan was already proving himself to the HYDRA leadership; but as a descendent of the Red Skull, and a possible scion of the organization one day, his final test needed to be special. The execution of his mother was proposed as a final test by Pierce. By killing his mother, Jonathan had proved that it was the HYDRA’s philosophy that he embraced and not his mother’s failed ideologies. The soldier had been insurance to ensure that the kills went through, should Johnathan falter, but he was also there as a witness should Jonathan succeed.

Now, Brock hadn’t been privy to all the details of that final encounter between mother and son, but when Pierce asked the soldier what he thought of the younger man, Brock had listened curiously. This wasn’t the first time that Pierce had asked for an evaluation of possible HYDRA recruits, and the Soldier’s response was generally, “adequate” or “terminated.” It was win-win either way; you either gained an ally or destroyed a potential enemy. However, the asset had said: “He will be a good soldier.”

Rogers recoiled the best she could from Corle, only realizing now that two monsters had her trapped between them. Having inserted the metaphorical blade, the soldier twisted the knife further, relishing in the panic shining clear on her face. “You will bear my children, and one day, his as well.”

Corle moved a hand down from her breast to over her womb and Brock saw on his face the same fervor of a new convert even though Corle had been with Hydra for a decade; the plastic surgery performed to hide his identity had left his eyes unchanged. The soldier rubbed his cheek against Rogers’ affectionately, a motion that would have been sweet if not considering the circumstances. He continued: “HYDRA will remake the world for them. This new world is what HYDRA’s children will inherit and that is what they will shepherd for generations to come.”

There was no way Rogers could disguise the sheer terror in her eyes. Knowing that you were going to be used as little more than a sex slave and a baby machine was already horrifying. But having your former husband and closest ally champion and follow through on your enemy’s vision with such conviction must have been mind-numbingly agonizing.

God, Brock fucking loved his job sometimes.

The asset laid a kiss on Rogers’ temple – she was shocked enough that she barely flinched. He looked at Corle. “Make her feel good.”

Corle nodded once, sharply, and refocused his efforts on Rogers’ sensitized body. He drew finger light touches across her skin, occasionally leaving scratches along it which had her flinching and gasping softly. The pair of them drove her to near climax twice, but the soldier left bleeding bites on her shoulders to prevent her from coming too soon. Each time he did so, she let out a muffled cry of pain. The asset warned, “You will only come when I tell you to.”

Rogers was gasping for air under the HYDRA pair’s dual assault. The combination of the visuals and the sounds – Rogers’ moans and the slap of flesh against her most private openings – had Matheson coming a second time with a dismayed shout. Brock and the boys would give him shit for it later, so much shit, but right now, no one was inclined to miss the show.

Rogers was teased with another orgasm and this time, as it was ripped away from her yet again, her gasps petered off into a quiet, choked-off cry. The sound left Corle with an unholy look of glee in his eyes. Brock privately applauded Corle’s performance; the asset had left humanity behind a long time ago, but Corle – as far as Brock knew – was 100% homegrown human. They dragged her back from her orgasm a fourth time, and Rogers responded with a full body shudder punctuated by a series of soft, broken sobs.

The soldier, finally satisfied with the response, growled into her ear, “You’re going to come for us.” Her eyes flew open and Brock heard her growl around through the gag. Fuck, what does it take to break her? Brock thought with grudging admiration. She clenched her teeth the best she could around the gag, resisting. The asset would not be deterred; he started to rub more vigorously at her clit while Corle drew a nipple into his mouth. He kept an iron grip on her collar with the metal hand. She started to shudder.

A minute passed, two, then, suddenly the asset and Corle started thrusting, harder, harder, and then she was coming again with her scream was muffled by the gag. Her two rapists followed suit with Corle stilling in Rogers’ cunt while the soldier finally ceased his thrusting into her ass. Rogers’ eyes were closed and her breath was still hitching. Tears ran down her face, dripping from her chin. Corle pulled out first, leaning back and breathing heavily but contentedly. The asset stayed in her for longer, giving her a final, possessive thrust before he finally extracted himself completely. A slop of semen followed his exit. Fuck there was a lot. Fuckin’ supersoldiers. Brock luckily hadn’t pulled the short straw on clean-up duty, so it wasn’t his problem anyways.

Brock waited about half-a-minute before approaching the soldier; he’d seen what happened to people if they surprised the asset. It wasn’t pretty. “All done?”

The asset didn’t bother looking towards Rumlow, still enchanted with his new pet. “For now. Once may not be sufficient.” Rogers flinched.

“Oh, trust me buddy, you’ll have plenty of chances to play with your new toy. Pierce’ll make sure of it.” Come to think of it, Brock was sure that Pierce would want to share as well. Pierce might have hated her, but the secretary was a practical man that wouldn’t pass up the chance of nailing such a sweet piece of ass.

A sharp crackle of static in Brock’s ear broke his line of thought; Rollins’ voice cut through the static. “Rumlow, we’re seven minutes out.” Brock unhooked his comm unit at his belt and replied, “Confirmed. We’ll be ready.” He glanced down at the asset who had already signaled Daniels to come forward with the sedative.

The asset’s grip on Rogers tightened and he said, gruffly, “Hold still.”

Rogers snarled and jerked away. Even chained up, drugged, beaten and raped multiple times by her teammates and her husband, she was still fighting. It didn’t matter in the end. The asset, Corle, and Ridge held her down as Daniels loaded the sedative into her vein. The drug took effect almost immediately. Rumlow watched her eyes flutter and close as it rapidly took hold of her. The entire process took less than a minute. The soldier, satisfied she was pliant enough for easy extraction, motioned to the Corle and Ridge to undo the manacles at her ankles and the collar around her throat. Corle got to work securing her legs, lashing them together at both the knees and the ankles with carbon-fiber reinforced rope. Yet another Stark invention. It was really too bad Stark was going to be one of the first people scratched out as soon as Project Insight went online; his little technological contributions had made it so much easier for HYDRA to operate their missions successfully.

While Corle was hard at work, the asset removed both the tape and sodden panties from her mouth, a move which surprised Brock. He would have expected the asset to just hoist her up like a sack of potatoes and be done with it. Instead, with the fingers of his human hand, he pushed back the hair from her face and glanced down at her face briefly. Rogers’ brow twitched occasionally, indicating that even though she was passed out cold, she was still resisting the effects of the sedative. Rumlow could almost see the gears in the asset’s recently wiped brain turning.

Rumlow opened his mouth to bark out a command, but the asset stayed his order by gathering Rogers’ prone form into his arms, standing and hefting her over his shoulder. The asset motioned to Corle to gather his armor and face mask. Corle obeyed and the asset took both them in one hand and re-secured the mask to his face, not bothering to fix his broken nose. Chances were that it had started to heal crooked already.

Satre, Ridge and Gregory set to work give the cell a full scrub-down. They opened up the cell door, and herded everyone out before they started bleaching and hosing down the floor, allowing the cleaning fluids to exit through the small drain near the center of the room. Satre unhooked and gathered the chains, placing them in a large metal briefcase. Because one of them had snapped during the festivities, all of them would need to be re-examined by tech at another site for flaws in their construction. All would likely be replaced with higher grade adamantium chains; Pierce seemed to have taken quite a liking to the vault, this room in particular. He’d disciplined the asset in it many times since they first acquired Barnes from the Wolf Spider Program back in the 80’s. For someone so practical, Pierce was quite nostalgic at times.

“Sure you gave her enough, Daniels?” Gregory asked, watching as a frown creased Rogers’ brow.

“I gave her enough to knock out a baby elephant. She’ll be out for about two to three hours. If we have to, a second dose can be administered when she’s on the flight.” Daniels replied professionally.

Rumlow’s comm gave another crackle. “ETA 1 minute.” Rollins announced.

“Let’s move.” Rumlow barked. The eight of them, plus the asset and his prize, filed out of the cell quickly and headed towards underground parking lot. Satre had slung the arm of a still groggy Graham over his shoulder. Mercer and Rollins were waiting for them out in the parking lot sub-basement.

“Sir.” Mercer called, her voice echoing across the lot otherwise empty for the two large black armored vehicles. She glanced at the asset climbing into the back of one of the vans with Rogers’ naked body. Ridge also climbed on – three other STRIKE team members were waiting for him in the back, and they greeted him was short nods. As the team’s back-up medic, Ridge would be heading with Rogers to her final destination – an abandoned oil rig in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

Mercer tossed Rumlow a look. “You boys have fun?”

Matheson, on his way to the other vehicle, overheard and cracked a laugh. “Cap has a fucking amazing pussy, Mercer. It’s too bad you don’t have a dick.”

Mercer raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think that I need one?” Her fingers tapped the stun baton at her hip once, twice.

Rumlow grinned. “Gotta say Matheson, you may wanna invest in that option, just in case your primary go-to fails.”

Rollins snorted and Ridge laughed, as Matheson grumbled. “Shut the fuck up, Rumlow.”

“Yeah, plenty of fun, Mercer.” Rumlow glanced into the transport at the soldier and Rogers. Hunh, isn’t that interesting. The soldier had brusquely brushed off aid from the other men in the transport and had wrapped Rogers in a fire blanket before belting her in securely using the vehicle’s built-in restraints. Pierce wasn’t kidding about the possessiveness; he was like a feral dog guarding a piece of meat.

“Asset.” Rumlow barked. The asset lifted his head. “You’re travelling with the rest of us. Pierce’ll keep her safe until you’ve completed your mission.”

Sullenly, the asset exited the vehicle, glancing at Rogers’ bowed head once more before he exited and closed the van doors with a loud bang. He shrugged on his armor and re-buckled it as he walked towards Rumlow.

The rest of STRIKE piled into the other armored van. Mercer and Satre got into the front two seats, and Rumlow allowed the rest of his team to climb into the back of the vehicle first. Matheson, Gregory, Daniels and Rollins sat on one side, while he, Graham and Corle sat on the other. The asset sat at the front of the back, belted in securely by Corle and Rollins. His face had resumed that blank, dead-eyed stare. They closed the van doors, and the van rumbled to life as it drove through the parking lot heading towards the Triskelion. Rumlow absently noted the time – 6:17 pm – and silently cursed. D.C. traffic was going to be horrible.

He turned his attention to Rollins. “Updates?”

“Romanov and Wilson” – so that was birdie’s name – “Got away. Chances are they had inside help.”

Well, fuck, that was inconvenient. It wasn’t catastrophic though. HYDRA and SHIELD had all of D.C. on lockdown and it would only be a matter of time before they caught up with them. Or Insight would wipe them off the map. There was very little chance they could stop its launch in the next twenty four hours.

“Hill?”

“Off grid. Can’t find her.”

Hill would be more of a problem; there was a very good reason why the great and late Nick Fury had named her deputy director. However, STRIKE would be there to stop her, Romanov and Wilson when it came down to it. Some of them may fall, but that was the price of ensuring a better world for the billions that lived in a society always threatening to tip over the edge into complete chaos. Rumlow settled down as he heard the van exit the parking lot, wheels going over the speed bumps.

“We’ll regroup when we get back to the Triskelion, see what the analysts have to say. Until then, we wait.”
Rollins gave a short nod. The rest of the group, sensing that business was concluded, started to talk. It was normal shit – office politics, why the Nationals sucked this year, the latest Game of Thrones episode. Besides the fact the van smelled like pussy, it was a day like any other. The asset, for as dominating a presence as he had been only ten minutes ago, remained silent and it was easy for them to forget that he was even sitting there. Rumlow breathed, relaxing and leaned back into his seat – he was among his team and there was no safer place in the world.

“Long day, huh?”

“It’s been a long fucking week, Jack.”

“Looks like you can take a nap.”

“Yeah, the Beltway is always a bitch.”

“It’s closed. Forget about today’s little adventure?”

The transport time had just doubled. “Ah fuck.” Brock’s eyes flickered towards the front of the van. “‘He’s a ghost,’ my ass.” Still, it was that delay that all gave them a little extra playtime with Rogers. Maybe he should thank Barnes for that.

“Eh, blessings in disguise. I’ll wake you up when we get there, Sleeping Beauty.”

A yawn cracked Brock’s jaw. “Fuck you, Rollins.” He said amiably.

Brock closed his eyes; might as well get some rest. He wanted to be wide awake as the world changed tomorrow.

END

Author!anon:

Thank you for the lovely comment! I'm glad the creepiness came through. Pierce is a complete sadist in the 'verse.

Also, OMG yes, Creepy!Pierce is one of my favorites. I have this strange desire for Pierce/Steve because it's such a messed-up dynamic. I also imagine that Pierce has a hate for Steve because Steve stole Nick Fury's loyalty from Pierce.

Congrats, nonny, this is the only het fic I've ever enjoyed. And I enjoyed most, um, thoroughly.

Creepy!Pierce/Steve is my jammmmm. Before the Hydra reveal, after the Hydra reveal, all so good.

Damn, now I'm all riled up. I gotta go reread Come Into My Parlor.

I did it, I did the thing! http://the-knitter-soldier.tumblr.com/post/130440511722/so-funny-story-sometimes-i-forget-that-not-all

Is it a bad sign that I feel more embarrassed about the quality of the scan than the fact that this is complete and unredeemable filth?

That's a very flattering comment. Glad that you enjoyed it. ;)

--Author!anon

Steve barely let him out of arm's reach for the rest of the day, although he kept his hands--and his mouth--to himself. He blushed when Bucky caught him staring at his chest, but he didn't stop looking.

He didn't say anything about it, so Bucky didn't either. He certainly wasn't going to complain. It was weird, staying so quietly and easily near each other--neither of them pushing, neither of them starting anything, even if the potential for it was there all the time. He could just lean on Steve, watching Star Trek on his tablet while Steve sketched, and know that he was exactly where he wanted to be, and Steve was exactly where he wanted to be, and neither of them was going anywhere.

Bucky didn't know how to do this--not his body, not his mind. He and Steve had never been quite like this before, broken open to each other without pulling apart to lick their wounds. But Bucky didn't need memory or instinct to guide him through this; he had Steve, and Steve had him. They could figure it out.

It was barely past noon when his chest felt full enough to ache, and Bucky texted Natasha to see if she was awake. Hungry?

Starving :( Natasha texted back, and Bucky snorted. She'd never stoop to using a frowny face if she were actually bothered about it, so she was feeling well enough to tease.

Bucky peeled himself away from Steve, stood up and stretched. "Lunchtime."

Steve stayed where he was, giving Bucky an uncertain look.

Bucky looked back at him, waiting for him to ask, or just stand up, but Steve stayed there, saying nothing.

"You shared last night," Bucky said finally. "You can share today, too. As long as you can be decent enough not to scandalize Natasha while you do."

Steve blushed the brightest he had all day, but he was on his feet before Bucky finished speaking. He leaned in and gave Bucky a kiss, soft and chaste and perfectly appropriate for company. Bucky leaned into him a little, already anticipating the pleasure of a half hour with Nat cuddled up against his left side and Steve on his right, feeding them both.

"I'll be good," Steve promised softly when Bucky pulled back from the kiss.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, not at all reassured. "I realize not scandalizing Natasha is usually a pretty low standard, but--"

Steve glared back and darted a hand toward his chest; Bucky slapped it down with his left hand, making Steve shake out his fingers. "I mean it, Buck. I will."

"As long as you promise," Bucky said, his sternness half joking and half serious.

Steve held up both hands in surrender. "I promise. Good as gold, Cap's honor."

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned on his heel. Steve fell in beside him.

"Were you..." Steve started, as they stepped out into the corridor. Bucky looked over at him, silently prodding. "This is--this is from when you knew Natasha when she was little. The Red Room. That's where this started?"

Bucky faced front and nodded, making for the stairs.

"And--it stopped, after that. This wasn't happening all the time. It started again when you came here. When you joined up."

Bucky nodded. "First time, Red Room, it was a side effect of the stuff they were using to keep me cooperative, but the hormones are naturally occurring, and I guess my body just... thought somebody needed feeding."

"Oh," Steve said. He sounded faintly apologetic. "Wanda."

Bucky glanced over at him, and realized that Steve hadn't taken her away on purpose the day before, and that he felt bad about it. Bucky tilted his head, silently deflecting an actual apology. "Yeah. I didn't remember at first, so I didn't even know what it was about, why I was paying so much attention to her. I just wanted--"

Bucky touched the sensor next to Natasha's door and it opened, and the words dried up on his tongue.

Natasha was sitting on the couch, curled up toward the right side. But the couch was already full: Wanda was sitting in the middle spot, curled up a lot like Natasha, and Sam was sitting on the other end. He was moving as Bucky's eye fell on him, straightening up from what must have been a comfortable sprawl.

Sam and Wanda were both staring at him--at his face, fixedly, like they were trying desperately not to look anywhere else. Bucky turned his gaze to Natasha, who looked amused and not at all sorry.

At his shoulder, Steve drew the same conclusion Bucky was drawing, and said in a very Captain America is disappointed in you tone, "Natasha."

"Well, once you knew, there was no point keeping it from anyone else on the team," Natasha said easily. She sounded like herself, and the lights in the apartment were barely dimmed, but she still looked tired and paler than she should be; she needed him, needed to be strengthened so that she could heal. "Anyway, I didn't say a word, I just let Wanda take a peek."

Wanda was watching Bucky in undisguised fascination; it made her look even younger, and Bucky's chest ached with longing to feed her. She knew what Natasha knew--not just bare facts, but Natasha's memories of it. She would know the way it felt, the reasons for it.

Wanda looked away first, saying, "Natasha said that way I would not misunderstand. And then--we did not want Sam to misunderstand, either. So I showed him."

Bucky's gaze jerked over to Sam, who was also looking fascinated, though with an edge to it that reminded Bucky of the way Steve and Sam fell into flirtation sometimes, like they didn't know any other way to talk to each other. Bucky swallowed hard.

Sam's expression changed to the same neutral friendliness he'd shown Bucky all the time when they were first getting to know each other. "We just hung around so we could let you know we know. We weren't trying to intrude."

But Natasha could have told him they knew, or warned him that they were there. She had wanted him to come in and see all three of them on the couch waiting for him. Bucky glanced over at Steve, but Steve kept his gaze on Sam and Wanda and didn't look back. Steve wasn't tapping out.

"Or you could stay," Bucky said. "If you want--"

Sam and Wanda got startlingly identical deer-in-the-headlights looks on their faces, and Bucky couldn't hold back a short burst of a laugh. Natasha was grinning, and he felt Steve's posture ease beside him, Steve's shoulder bumping gently against his. Sam and Wanda both eased up, relaxing again.

"You don't have to do anything," Bucky assured them, because just the possibility was almost enough, just the fact that they knew and could laugh about it. "These two might arm-wrestle you for their spots if you tried, anyway."

Sam snorted, glancing at Steve and then meeting Wanda's eyes conspiratorially. "I don't like our odds."

Wanda shook her head. "Anyway, clearly there is some skill involved, at first Steve didn't--"

"Nat," Steve said, in a slightly strangled voice hiding genuine embarrassment. "You had to show them that?"

"I didn't want them to be intimidated," Natasha said primly. "Speaking of which, if you two want to try it the easy way first--there's milk in the fridge, you can just put some in a glass, see how you like the taste."

Natasha gave Wanda an unsubtle nudge with one foot and Wanda shoved Sam with both hands. In another second they were both up off the couch and headed for the kitchen. Bucky took his chance to go where he was supposed to be, sitting down in the middle of the couch. Steve sat down next to him, knees aggressively splayed out like there was any danger of Sam or Wanda trying to squeeze in beside him when they came back.

Bucky put his left arm around Nat, tugging her in for a hug that also let him check the line of the bullet-track through her hair. It looked better this morning; the skin was knitting under the sprayed-on bandage, showing no signs of bleeding or infection.

"Sam already checked that," Natasha muttered, ducking her head to nuzzle against his chest. His milk let down, dampening the front of his shirt, and Steve leaned closer on his other side. "With Wanda to make sure I wasn't lying about any of my symptoms."

"Well now I've checked too," Bucky said, rubbing his fingers gently through her hair. "Steve, you wanna check?"

"I can see it from here. Looks good, Natasha."

"Thanks," Natasha said dryly, and she pulled back enough to look up at Bucky.

Bucky took a breath, hesitating. He could hear Sam and Wanda in the kitchen, sorting out what they wanted; they would be occupied for another few minutes.

Bucky elbowed Steve away so he could pull his shirt off. Natasha and Steve both curled in before he even lowered his arms, latching on without hesitation, and Bucky's breath caught at the double sensation. His milk rushed out for them and his arms curled around them, holding them close as they squirmed through the first few sucks, finding comfortable positions. They settled with their heads and shoulders leaning together, bracing each other across his chest as they each curled close against his side.

Bucky let his head fall back against the couch as they settled into a matched rhythm. Their mouths worked on him in perfect concert, and the little sounds of them nursing were loud in the quiet of the apartment. He turned his head to look toward the kitchen, now silent.

Sam and Wanda were standing in the doorway. Wanda was holding a mug and Sam had a glass of milk with a straw in it. Bucky felt warmed all over again, knowing he was feeding them too.

He took his hand off Steve long enough to beckon to them, and they came in quietly. Wanda went around to Natasha's side of the couch, tucking into the corner space Natasha had left. When Bucky shifted his left arm from holding Natasha, he could just touch her shoulder, and he tugged gently, encouraging her to lean on Natasha. Sam sat down on the floor in front of Steve. He leaned his shoulder against Bucky's knee and curled his left hand around Bucky's ankle; after a moment Steve shifted his leg in to rest against Sam's other shoulder, keeping him close.

Bucky let his eyes close, listening to the sounds of them drinking--Steve and Natasha nursing, drawing his milk out in steady pulls, while Wanda and Sam sipped tentatively, leaning closer as they relaxed. Their weight and their trust settled over him, a tangible abundance.

Still he found himself thinking, We need a bigger couch. If Wanda could make Sam understand, she could show it to Vision and Rhodes, and Bucky could have the whole team gathered in. What he had already, with Steve and Natasha in his arms, Wanda and Sam tucked in close, was more than he could ask for. Still, in this warm place, Bucky dared to want more. It was his turn to be greedy.

:D :D :D Thank you! I had a blast writing this Bucky, and arcing through all the nurturing to the porn. I'm glad that worked for you!

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Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Re: Fill: Drink Me, 10b/11

Eve, Part 1/7

Eve, Part 2a/7

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Eve, Part 2c/7

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Eve, Part 5a/7

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Eve, Part 7b/7 - END -

END

Re: Eve, Part 2a/7

Re: Eve, Part 7b/7 - END -

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Re: Fill: A Superior Man 2/3

Re: Eve, Part 7b/7 - END -

Fill: Drink Me, 11/11 - The End!

Re: Fill: Drink Me, 10b/11