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

[trashmod]

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.

[Round 1] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by greenkirtle)] [Round 2 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

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

Comments

Rumlow/Pierce

[(Anonymous)]

I want sadist!Rumlow and Pierce. Either Pierce teaching Rumlow a lesson or Pierce bottoming.

Re: Rumlow/Pierce - part 1

[(Anonymous)]

So I decided to write it. Rumlow/Pierce. Rumlow top. Here is what I have got so far.

****

Rumlow spread the legs of the tripod, testing its stability on the wall to wall carpet far more than was necessary. As he put the camera in its place, fastening it by the clamp that held it, he paused. His hands froze on the buttons and he stared at the space he had cleared in the living room of his small apartment. The couch was pushed against the far wall and he had removed side tables. His eyes grew glazed as he pictured the next hour progressing in his mind. What the hell was he about to do?

It had started yesterday with a text from Secretary Pierce. Report. After hours. At Pierce’s condo. The order was a bit odd but not entirely without precedent. On at least two other occasions, the HYDRA members of STRIKE had gotten their orders standing around the island in Peirce’s kitchen. Yesterday though, when Rumlow had walked up and knocked on the door, he was alone. The rest of the team had not reported in.

Pierce had opened the door and had invited him in, all friendly-like. He had offered Rumlow a beer and asked about his most recent assignment with Cap. Unsure what he was doing here, Rumlow had stammered through the small talk. And then Pierce had said the impossible. “I need your help. Brock. I have a decision to make.” He had hesitated, his eyes focused on some distant point. “Order through pain, yes?” Rumlow had watched him through narrowed eyes. “I have seen how you handle the Asset, how you bring him clarity. Focus. I need that, Brock.”

Rumlow had stared at him. “And you want me to…” His mind had been running a mile a minute. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I want you do for me what you do for the Asset. Same rules.” Rules? Rumlow had thought wildly, his mouth slightly open in amazement. Pierce had laughed a little laugh. “Almost. I am not so sturdy.”

Rumlow had stared at the Secretary, his hands flat on the cool granite countertop, watching as their warmth made a ring of condensation around their perimeter. Slowly, an image had begun to form in his mind, an image that, despite sending shivers of terror through him, was strangely enticing.

Pierce had pressed him for an answer. He had hesitated, looking around the posh kitchen with more appliances than he could name. With a conviction he did not know he had, he had refused. He had refused! Flat out, he had said no.

The Secretary was not one to take no for an answer. Rumlow did not remember what Pierce had said next, but before long he found himself saying, “Not here. Not now.”

Pierce had nodded, thoughtfully. “I don’t have forever,” he said. “There is a deadline on this decision.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Rumlow had said. He had spotted a pad of sticky notes on the fridge and he pulled one off, writing his address on the yellow square and a time. “Don’t be late.”

He had left Pierce’s place with his head spinning. As something resembling sense returned, he wondered how in the hell he had just agreed to…but then in his mind he saw Pierce stripped naked, his hands bound and chained over his head. Pierce was not a young man - his body would not be hard and trim - but that did not matter. Even though the world did not know it, Pierce was one of the most powerful men in the world. It was one thing to have the asset helpless under his hands, but Pierce? By the time he got home he was rock hard and trembling.

Over the intervening day, Rumlow had gone back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. In the end, he had decided that what Pierce had asked for was really not all that complicated.

The knock on the door was right on time. Even so, Rumlow jumped. Taking a deep breath, he straightened and glanced around the room. Everything was in place. He was going to do this.

Rumlow checked his uniform before he opened the door. He was in full tac gear, with the familiar straps criss-crossing his chest, his baton and guns and knife stuck in their holsters.

Rumlow opened the door and he found Pierce dressed in an impeccable grey suit. That would never do, not at all. “Secretary,” he said, his eyes glancing over the man. Rumlow stepped aside and gestured towards the living room.

He saw Pierce’s eyes rove over the space. The couch pushed against the wall, the dents in the carpet where the couch and tables had stood, the TV on the wall.

Pierce was about to say something as his eyes settled on the camera, but Rumlow gave him a warning look and reminded him softly, “Same rules, Secretary.” Pierce opened his mouth and then shut it with click. He started to walk in, but Rumlow stopped him with an arm held in his path and waited, his eyes boring into the older man.

Keeping the façade was hard. Deep down, Rumlow knew he was more than a little terrified of Pierce. This was not like the Asset, not at all. Suddenly, Pierce’s eyes widened and Rumlow thought he was going to back out, but instead he spoke with that quiet, persuasive, cultured voice that slid like silk over his adversaries, tightening without warning like a garotte around their throats. With that voice, Pierce said, “Yes sir.”

The thrill that those two words sent through Rumlow was electric and he felt a slow smile curl his lips. This was going to be fun.

Re: Rumlow/Pierce - part 1

[(Anonymous)]

This is a very, very good start. *applause!*

Re: Rumlow/Pierce - part 1

[(Anonymous)]

Thank you!

Re: Rumlow/Pierce - part 1

[(Anonymous)]

I like where this is going. *opens box of pre-millennium mince pies and waits for the next part*

Re: Rumlow/Pierce - part 1

[(Anonymous)]

yumm.

Here comes some more. I am so predictable. I get a cold, I write hydra trash.

Re: Rumlow/Pierce Part 2

[(Anonymous)]

Rumlow shut the door, pausing for a moment, facing it. He took a deep breath, inhaling slowly, feeling the air inflate his lungs fully, like he had learned and practiced through hundreds of hours of martial arts training. Centered, he felt his feet press against the floor, the cool metal of the door under his hand. Letting the breath go, he flicked the deadbolt and turned.

Pierce was standing next to the camera, loosening his tie.

Rumlow’s face creased with a frown. He said softly, “What are you doing, Secretary?”

Pierce looked at him, his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. “I thought,” he started to say, “we were going to…”

Despite himself, Rumlow smiled. At the sight of that smile, Pierce’s words faded off. Rumlow thought to himself, Pierce does not get it yet, but he is going to. By god, he is going to.

Rumlow shook his head, taking three steps over and closing the distance between them. He put his hand on Pierce’s, guiding it away from the Windsor knot. “You are not here to think.”

Pierce opened his mouth, his eyes widening as he stepped back, his back coming up against the wall. He pulled his hand out from under Rumlow’s. “You…” he began. Rumlow noticed that Pierce’s hand was shaking. Not much, but he noticed details like that. He noticed the way Pierce was unbalanced, the set of his shoulders, the way he held his weight on his right leg, his non-dominant leg.

Rumlow stepped in closer so his face was just inches from Pierce’s and Pierce leaned back against the wall. “I think,” Rumlow said, his voice a low growl, “that you think too much, Secretary. Your mind is running on it’s little hamster wheel. Making plans inside plans. Secrets that have secrets.” He was wearing fingerless gloves and he reached up, running the leather back across the side of Pierce’s face. Pierce flinched. “The Asset, he doesn’t think, not like that. He feels. He reacts. He is.”

Pierce’s eyes narrowed and Rumlow ran his thumb along the creases that formed in the corners of the older man’s eyes. “That still what you want, Secretary? The Asset’s rules?” Abruptly, Rumlow stepped back, dropping his hand.

Pierce let out an explosive breath, watching Rumlow. Rumlow crossed his arms and waited, his weight tipped back on his heels. Then, Pierce pushed himself up away from the wall so he was standing firmly on both feet. Deliberately, he re-tightened the knot of his tie. Standing straight, he said, “I am disappointed in you, Brock. You aren’t usually one to question orders.”

Rumlow shook his head in amazement. The Secretary was un-fucking-believable. And still not getting it. With a bit of a laugh, he drew a baton and pointed at the space in front of the camera. “Then let’s get started, Secretary,” he said.

He watched as Pierce took the two steps over to where he pointed. Pierce was cocky and confident, the uncertainty gone. Rumlow was pretty sure that was an act, but he’d find out, soon enough. Casually, he swung the baton, hitting the Pierce in the back of the shins, making his legs buckle so he fell to his knees. Pierce looked up at him, startled, and for a moment the façade cracked. Rumlow thought he saw fear flicker there, but then the mask was back. Bringing the baton up under Pierce’s chin, Rumlow growled, “Let’s review the rules. There are just two. First, you mind your manners, Secretary,” he half spat out the title. “You call me ‘sir’. Comprendez?”

As he watched, Pierce nodded, but then he amended, “Yes, sir.” It was almost comical. Rumlow had seen recruits in Basic make the same mistake.

“Second. Eyes. I like eye contact. You look at me. If you can’t look at me, you look at the camera. Got it?”

“I’m not…you can’t…” There, the mask was cracking as Pierce’s eyes flickered between Rumlow and the camera.

Rumlow frowned, stepping closer to Pierce. “The tape is not blackmail, Secretary. When this is done, it’s yours.”

Pierce looked up at him. “You give your…”

Rumlow shook his head in warning, poking the baton in the center of Pierce’s chest, knocking him off balance and back onto his heels. “If you finish that sentence, Secretary, we are through. You are walking right out that door.”

Pierce licked his lips. The he looked directly into Rumlow’s eyes. “Yes sir,” he answered slowly, letting the words form on his lips. “I understand. I look at you or the camera.”

Reaching out with his left hand, Rumlow touched Pierce’s cheek. “Good boy,” he said with a smile. The word ‘boy’ almost caught in his throat. What the hell was he doing? Swallowing quickly to cover the wave of panic that boiled up from somewhere in his stomach, he turned away from Pierce and went over to switch on the camera.

Re: Rumlow/Pierce Part 2

[(Anonymous)]

You updated. *dances in the trash*

Re: Rumlow/Pierce Part 2

[(Anonymous)]

I did! :) yay trash.