“Hello, sweetheart.” The asset stalks closer, the predatory slink of his step at odds with the friendly drawl of his words. The dissonance sets the hair on the back of Jack's neck prickling.
“Rumlow? Get your ass back in here, something is definitely not right.” Jack backs slowly away from the asset, not breaking eye contact. He's volatile, not quite the ghost of Hydra but far from the quote-unquote normal human Pierce had ordered for the next mission. “Brock!”
“I'm right here, don't get your panties in a—now that's just fucked.”
“Ya think? Help me out here.” The asset had followed when Jack backed up; he now has the agent pinned against wall, twining around him almost like... lovers. Jack shivers in distaste.
“I dunno, buddy, looks like he wants to help you out with that.”
“I'm not a fucking homo.”
“Don't need to be a homo to get your dick sucked, huh?”
“Is that what you want?” the asset breathes into Jack's ear, one hand curving around his neck and the other sliding across his hip. “I can do that, I can make it so good for you, doll.”
“I swear to god, motherfucker, if I ever find out that you put him up to this—stop laughing, you asshole! It's not funny.”
“It really, really is though. C'mon, just let him. Look how eager he is.”
It's true. Unfortunately. The asset's face plays at shy innocence but the look in his eyes can only be described as hungry.
“Soldier! Stand down!”
The asset laughs, low and dirty. Jack imagines that to anyone else, it would sound seductive. “Me? I'm no soldier, I just haul crates. I can pretend if you want though... sir.” The asset is purring now, stroking across Jack's shoulders like he's never seen arms before, rubbing up against him like a cat in heat.
“Did you teach him to do this?”
Rumlow's laughter cuts off abruptly. “The fuck you trying to say? You think I taught him this gay shit? You think I'm some kinda faggot? A goddamn fairy? Is that what you're telling me?”
Jack isn't scared often, but when he is, it's usually because he unintentionally crossed someone who outranks him. Order is comforting; he doesn't like to buck it. “N-no, I just thought-”
“What's got your friend so worked up, huh? Maybe he thinks you're hogging all the fun. It's okay. I can take care of you both, I got plenty-a steam in me. I could do this all day.”
Jack can't help the shudder of revulsion that runs though him when the asset drops to his knees with deadly grace. “So, uh, this is maybe a weird time to tell you, but I don't really, you know, do this...”
The asset stops working Jack's fly and flicks his eyes up, smirking. “That's fine by me. You can pretend I'm a dame, call me someone else's name, turn the lights off, I don't mind. Long as I get that big dick in me, I don't care what you do.”
“No. I mean, sex. At all. I don't do... that.”
If anything, the asset's smirks widens. “Aw, this your first time, baby? You're in for a real treat. Not to brag or nothin', but I'm good at what I do. Real good. I'll make it extra special on account of it bein' such a special occasion. I can make you feel good, I promise.”
“No, I—it's not about that, I just-”
“Wow, you really are a homo.”
Jack yanks his gaze away from where his flaccid penis is disappearing into the asset's mouth to side-eye Rumlow. “Excuse me? Are you not hearing me turn down a blowjob from a dude? In what world does 'doesn't have sex' translate to 'fucks other dudes'?”
“Uh... in the world where not liking pussy makes you a god damn fairy. Duh.”
“It's not... I just don't like people. Not like that.”
Rumlow snorts but if he says anything else, Jack can't hear it over his own choked-off moan as he gets hard so fast he can feel the blood rushing south. He wasn't lying, he doesn't do this, hasn't even tried for years. The physical sensations are fine, but the closeness, the intimacy, they just make him uncomfortable. On the rare occasion he needs to get off, his hand has always been adequate.
Adequate, sure, but not like this. He's never felt anything like this. The dizziness fades as the pleasure ramps up and if he shuts his eyes and focuses on just the sensation—Christ, the sensation—he can pretend that there are no people involved at all, no touching, no Rumlow, no asset, no creepy holding cell with buzzing fluorescent lights, just the darkness behind his eyelids and the hot suction pulling his dick in deep, again and again. There's something firm and wet undulating against the underside, flicking against his slit, circling the head that has to be the asset's tongue—but no, don't think about that, don't think about anything, just feel. Just feel it, how good it is, setting his nerves on fire, making him harder than he's ever been.
He loses track of time, but he has a feeling it's not very long—and that Rumlow will be mocking him for that fact very, very soon—before the asset's flesh hand closes over his balls, one finger sneaking back to tease at his rim, and he shoots off, head knocking hard against the wall as he shakes his way through what is without a doubt the most intense orgasm of his life.
His eyes flicker open just in time to see the asset pull off with a loud slurp, lick his lips ostentatiously, swallow, and dive back in with a wink to start licking Jack clean. Sensitive as he is, it feels so good it hurts. “Fuck, no, god, it's too much, you gotta stop, shit.”
The asset hums in a way that must be intended to soothe. “It's okay, doll, I got you. Just lemme take care of you, okay? I'll be gentle. Get you nice 'n clean. Just 'cause we ain't at a bathhouse doesn't mean it's suddenly not rude to put a fella away sticky.” And then he swallows around Jack's softening cock; Jack can't help it, he sobs at the overstimulation as his legs give out under him.
FILL: To Be a Person 2/3
“Rumlow? Get your ass back in here, something is definitely not right.” Jack backs slowly away from the asset, not breaking eye contact. He's volatile, not quite the ghost of Hydra but far from the quote-unquote normal human Pierce had ordered for the next mission. “Brock!”
“I'm right here, don't get your panties in a—now that's just fucked.”
“Ya think? Help me out here.” The asset had followed when Jack backed up; he now has the agent pinned against wall, twining around him almost like... lovers. Jack shivers in distaste.
“I dunno, buddy, looks like he wants to help you out with that.”
“I'm not a fucking homo.”
“Don't need to be a homo to get your dick sucked, huh?”
“Is that what you want?” the asset breathes into Jack's ear, one hand curving around his neck and the other sliding across his hip. “I can do that, I can make it so good for you, doll.”
“I swear to god, motherfucker, if I ever find out that you put him up to this—stop laughing, you asshole! It's not funny.”
“It really, really is though. C'mon, just let him. Look how eager he is.”
It's true. Unfortunately. The asset's face plays at shy innocence but the look in his eyes can only be described as hungry.
“Soldier! Stand down!”
The asset laughs, low and dirty. Jack imagines that to anyone else, it would sound seductive. “Me? I'm no soldier, I just haul crates. I can pretend if you want though... sir.” The asset is purring now, stroking across Jack's shoulders like he's never seen arms before, rubbing up against him like a cat in heat.
“Did you teach him to do this?”
Rumlow's laughter cuts off abruptly. “The fuck you trying to say? You think I taught him this gay shit? You think I'm some kinda faggot? A goddamn fairy? Is that what you're telling me?”
Jack isn't scared often, but when he is, it's usually because he unintentionally crossed someone who outranks him. Order is comforting; he doesn't like to buck it. “N-no, I just thought-”
“What's got your friend so worked up, huh? Maybe he thinks you're hogging all the fun. It's okay. I can take care of you both, I got plenty-a steam in me. I could do this all day.”
Jack can't help the shudder of revulsion that runs though him when the asset drops to his knees with deadly grace. “So, uh, this is maybe a weird time to tell you, but I don't really, you know, do this...”
The asset stops working Jack's fly and flicks his eyes up, smirking. “That's fine by me. You can pretend I'm a dame, call me someone else's name, turn the lights off, I don't mind. Long as I get that big dick in me, I don't care what you do.”
“No. I mean, sex. At all. I don't do... that.”
If anything, the asset's smirks widens. “Aw, this your first time, baby? You're in for a real treat. Not to brag or nothin', but I'm good at what I do. Real good. I'll make it extra special on account of it bein' such a special occasion. I can make you feel good, I promise.”
“No, I—it's not about that, I just-”
“Wow, you really are a homo.”
Jack yanks his gaze away from where his flaccid penis is disappearing into the asset's mouth to side-eye Rumlow. “Excuse me? Are you not hearing me turn down a blowjob from a dude? In what world does 'doesn't have sex' translate to 'fucks other dudes'?”
“Uh... in the world where not liking pussy makes you a god damn fairy. Duh.”
“It's not... I just don't like people. Not like that.”
Rumlow snorts but if he says anything else, Jack can't hear it over his own choked-off moan as he gets hard so fast he can feel the blood rushing south. He wasn't lying, he doesn't do this, hasn't even tried for years. The physical sensations are fine, but the closeness, the intimacy, they just make him uncomfortable. On the rare occasion he needs to get off, his hand has always been adequate.
Adequate, sure, but not like this. He's never felt anything like this. The dizziness fades as the pleasure ramps up and if he shuts his eyes and focuses on just the sensation—Christ, the sensation—he can pretend that there are no people involved at all, no touching, no Rumlow, no asset, no creepy holding cell with buzzing fluorescent lights, just the darkness behind his eyelids and the hot suction pulling his dick in deep, again and again. There's something firm and wet undulating against the underside, flicking against his slit, circling the head that has to be the asset's tongue—but no, don't think about that, don't think about anything, just feel. Just feel it, how good it is, setting his nerves on fire, making him harder than he's ever been.
He loses track of time, but he has a feeling it's not very long—and that Rumlow will be mocking him for that fact very, very soon—before the asset's flesh hand closes over his balls, one finger sneaking back to tease at his rim, and he shoots off, head knocking hard against the wall as he shakes his way through what is without a doubt the most intense orgasm of his life.
His eyes flicker open just in time to see the asset pull off with a loud slurp, lick his lips ostentatiously, swallow, and dive back in with a wink to start licking Jack clean. Sensitive as he is, it feels so good it hurts. “Fuck, no, god, it's too much, you gotta stop, shit.”
The asset hums in a way that must be intended to soothe. “It's okay, doll, I got you. Just lemme take care of you, okay? I'll be gentle. Get you nice 'n clean. Just 'cause we ain't at a bathhouse doesn't mean it's suddenly not rude to put a fella away sticky.” And then he swallows around Jack's softening cock; Jack can't help it, he sobs at the overstimulation as his legs give out under him.