Kane smiled, that same look on his face as he had whenever they’d ribbed him and called him a pussy.
Bucky really, really hated that look. He knew that look.
“Batter up,” Shankman said, laughing and pounding Kane on the back like they were both in on a good joke. Moss laughed, too.
What a joke.
Steve reacted violently, like he’d been shocked, kicking out and hitting New Guy in the calf, rolling his shoulders as if he could just break the cuffs – and now that Bucky really got a look at them, it was obvious that they weren’t going anywhere, not even for him.
After a few kicks he stopped, breathing hard, eyes shut tight.
“Oh, I think he needs it bad,” New Guy said. “Not surprised, ass that tight. Could barely get in there.”
“You heard him,” Shankman said, looking down at Steve curiously.
Steve was compliant again, lax under Moss’s boot now pressing him even harder into the floor. But the truly hateful look on his face, after the relative disinterest up ‘til now, seemed to take them aback.
And then it sunk into resignation, and he closed his eyes again.
“No, no, look up,” Kane said, tilting Steve’s chin up with his fingers. Steve flinched way from them before he caught himself. He squatted in front of Steve. “You know why they call me Homerun?”
Steve swallowed hard, throat clicking. A muscle in his jaw jumped. And he glanced, again, at Bucky. “No. Why.”
He stroked Steve’s side, lingering over the forming bruises. “It’s a good story.”
“I’ll bet,” Steve whispered, barely audible. His eyes were bright.
Bucky closed his eyes. He wouldn’t want Steve to see him like this, knowing what was about to happen. It was all he could offer Steve.
And this time, no one cared that he’d closed them. He wasn’t the freshest meat anymore. That was Steve, bleeding and tender.
That was Steve, and Bucky couldn't do a fucking thing.
FILL: not so unsullied anymore 3b/?
Bucky really, really hated that look. He knew that look.
“Batter up,” Shankman said, laughing and pounding Kane on the back like they were both in on a good joke. Moss laughed, too.
What a joke.
Steve reacted violently, like he’d been shocked, kicking out and hitting New Guy in the calf, rolling his shoulders as if he could just break the cuffs – and now that Bucky really got a look at them, it was obvious that they weren’t going anywhere, not even for him.
After a few kicks he stopped, breathing hard, eyes shut tight.
“Oh, I think he needs it bad,” New Guy said. “Not surprised, ass that tight. Could barely get in there.”
“You heard him,” Shankman said, looking down at Steve curiously.
Steve was compliant again, lax under Moss’s boot now pressing him even harder into the floor. But the truly hateful look on his face, after the relative disinterest up ‘til now, seemed to take them aback.
And then it sunk into resignation, and he closed his eyes again.
“No, no, look up,” Kane said, tilting Steve’s chin up with his fingers. Steve flinched way from them before he caught himself. He squatted in front of Steve. “You know why they call me Homerun?”
Steve swallowed hard, throat clicking. A muscle in his jaw jumped. And he glanced, again, at Bucky. “No. Why.”
He stroked Steve’s side, lingering over the forming bruises. “It’s a good story.”
“I’ll bet,” Steve whispered, barely audible. His eyes were bright.
Bucky closed his eyes. He wouldn’t want Steve to see him like this, knowing what was about to happen. It was all he could offer Steve.
And this time, no one cared that he’d closed them. He wasn’t the freshest meat anymore. That was Steve, bleeding and tender.
That was Steve, and Bucky couldn't do a fucking thing.