What he could tell, however, was that ordering Barnes to come had not helped matters any. Clearly, something else was required before Barnes's single-minded focus on serving him would stop.
So, sex.
"Let's use the bed," he told Barnes, withdrawing before the man could decide to be proactive about this. He finally stripped out of his soggy underwear, perfunctorily washing himself before exiting the shower stall. He grabbed a towel for himself and one for Barnes and told the man to dry himself off. To his great relief, Barnes easily followed the command. He may have been shivering a bit while he did it, but he got himself dried passably well without further incident.
They returned to the bedroom where T'Challa told Barnes to lie down on the bed on his stomach. This command, too, Barnes obeyed without hesitation. He even stopped trembling. It seemed they were finally moving in a direction Barnes approved of.
Of course, approval did not necessarily equal enjoyment, as the full-body flinch when T'Challa laid a hand on his flank attested to.
"Don't worry," T'Challa said quietly, trying to soothe Barnes's fear. "I will not hurt you." He had failed to prove his point before, but maybe if he tried again? He got up and went back to the bathroom to retrieve some multi-purpose massage oil.
When he re-entered his bedroom, Barnes was once again shaking and whimpering. It seemed he really did not react well to being left alone for any length of time in this state. Hot guilt stabbed through T'Challa at the realization that he had left Barnes to himself for several hours before finally deciding to act.
He had to make it up to Barnes.
"Shh, I'm here," he murmured as he quickly climbed back onto the bed. Barnes took a deep, shuddering breath and forcibly calmed himself. "Just try to relax," T'Challa said. A moment later, he noticed with dismay that Barnes had begun twitching all over.
It occurred to him that ordering a man to relax who was tense because he expected punishment for any failure to heed orders perfectly wasn't necessarily the best idea he'd ever had. The command to relax seemed to be warring inside of Barnes with the nervous tension this situation was rightly inducing, both feeding into it and trying to beat it into submission at the same time.
No wonder he was shaking.
"No, it's alright," T'Challa tried to calm the man down. "You are doing great, you're perfect, there's nothing to worry about. There won't be any punishment. I'd like you to relax, but if you can't that's fine. You're good, you are doing so well."
The shaking diminished a little. "I'm g-good?" Watery blue eyes stared up at him over Barnes's shoulder.
"You are great," T'Challa repeated. "You are doing so well, I am so proud of you."
Barnes gave him the tiniest shy little smile. T'Challa smiled back warmly. Without looking away, he blindly opened the bottle of massage oil and spread it over both hands. They were still warm from the shower so he wasted no time putting both hands flat on Barnes's shoulder blades.
Barnes moaned, the porn-worthy sound trailing off into a happy sigh as T'Challa began to move his hands, slowly beginning to massage Barnes's entire back one area at a time.
At first, T'Challa focused on the massage to the exclusion of everything else. But after a while, guilt started heckling him because he was once again putting off the inevitable. He wasn't usually a man to dawdle once his task was clear. Why was this so different?
And still, even though he knew he was stalling, he went on with the massage. Barnes was enjoying this, surely it couldn't be a bad thing?
Another five minutes passed, ten, half an hour. With every time he looked at the clock and found the hands had miraculously jumped stunning distances since his last look, he felt worse. Eventually, he could no longer put it off.
Not really wanting to look, but wanting to hurt Barnes even less, he made himself focus on the man's arse. One hand began massaging the left cheek and pulling it aside a little as the other hesitantly trailed down the crease.
Barnes froze.
T'Challa stopped, withdrawing the hand. Wasn't this what Barnes needed, then? "Do you want this?" he asked, needing to check despite the certainty that Barnes wasn't capable of informed consent at the moment. He couldn't not ask.
Unfortunately, Barnes's core personality was still disengaged. "I only want to please you," Barnes informed him in a throaty whisper. "I have no other purpose." Although... had there been a slight edge to the comment? T'Challa stared hard at Barnes, but the man was facing forward now and the back of his head really wasn't all that expressive.
"It will please me not to hurt you while we do this," T'Challa said, his low voice as calm and soothing as he could make it while still sounding sincere. "If you tell me what you like, I will listen."
Barnes relaxed fractionally, but T'Challa thought it might be from defeat rather than relief, going by his words. "I am here for you to use as you like."
"Right." Wishful thinking, then. Barnes wasn't being sarcastic and self-aware. He was probably just really on edge because T'Challa wasn't sticking to the script the Winter Soldier had been given, and in the Soldier's experience that most likely translated to unpredictable, large amounts of pain and humiliation.
Feeling a hundred years old, T'Challa once more warily put a well-lubed finger to Barnes's hole and began tracing very soft circles around it. Barnes was stiff as a board underneath him. And he stayed that way for the next ten minutes while T'Challa tried and failed to get the man's body to open up.
Slowly letting out his pent-up breath little by little to stop himself from huffing in frustration, T'Challa reclaimed his finger and sat back on his haunches. "Well," he said, "this is not working."
Barnes started trembling again. "Sir, there's no need for all this. If you're worried I'll squeeze you too hard, just put something else in first. You can use a... a plug, or a baton, or -" He raised his head, frantically looking around for a suitable tool "-that bottle of massage oil is looking real handy, or that scabbard there." He tried something that might have been intended as an inviting smile but only succeeded in making him look scared spitless.
"It's alright," T'Challa said, voice low and as calm as he could make it. Use whatever is at hand, was that what Hydra had normally done? What did Hydra agents usually have at hand when they raped their superhuman asset? Stun batons, weapons, medical equipment? Lady have mercy. And the bottle he was holding had a diameter at least twice the width of his cock. There was no need for such an extreme dilation. What was more, if he forced this in when Barnes was as tense as he was now, T'Challa was sure to cause immense damage. Was that what Barnes was expecting him to do? What was usually done to him after this trigger was activated?
T'Challa remembered how fiercely the Winter Soldier had fought even when injured. It had seemed like he didn't even notice his wounds. What did it take to make a man like that tremble and cower? What punishment was he expecting if he failed to service T'Challa? And how much was he expecting to be hurt even if he complied?
"I refuse to hurt you," he said slowly. "There has to be some way to get you to relax."
"Drugs will work," Barnes offered, sounding very unsure of himself.
I want to give Bucky some legitimate drug like Prozac or some such and have him suffer horribly from side effects... but I'm also extremely tempted to have him and T'Challa smoke pot. This might get really cracky really fast if I do that, though. Opinions?
Re: Touch-starved 6/?
So, sex.
"Let's use the bed," he told Barnes, withdrawing before the man could decide to be proactive about this. He finally stripped out of his soggy underwear, perfunctorily washing himself before exiting the shower stall. He grabbed a towel for himself and one for Barnes and told the man to dry himself off. To his great relief, Barnes easily followed the command. He may have been shivering a bit while he did it, but he got himself dried passably well without further incident.
They returned to the bedroom where T'Challa told Barnes to lie down on the bed on his stomach. This command, too, Barnes obeyed without hesitation. He even stopped trembling. It seemed they were finally moving in a direction Barnes approved of.
Of course, approval did not necessarily equal enjoyment, as the full-body flinch when T'Challa laid a hand on his flank attested to.
"Don't worry," T'Challa said quietly, trying to soothe Barnes's fear. "I will not hurt you." He had failed to prove his point before, but maybe if he tried again? He got up and went back to the bathroom to retrieve some multi-purpose massage oil.
When he re-entered his bedroom, Barnes was once again shaking and whimpering. It seemed he really did not react well to being left alone for any length of time in this state. Hot guilt stabbed through T'Challa at the realization that he had left Barnes to himself for several hours before finally deciding to act.
He had to make it up to Barnes.
"Shh, I'm here," he murmured as he quickly climbed back onto the bed. Barnes took a deep, shuddering breath and forcibly calmed himself. "Just try to relax," T'Challa said. A moment later, he noticed with dismay that Barnes had begun twitching all over.
It occurred to him that ordering a man to relax who was tense because he expected punishment for any failure to heed orders perfectly wasn't necessarily the best idea he'd ever had. The command to relax seemed to be warring inside of Barnes with the nervous tension this situation was rightly inducing, both feeding into it and trying to beat it into submission at the same time.
No wonder he was shaking.
"No, it's alright," T'Challa tried to calm the man down. "You are doing great, you're perfect, there's nothing to worry about. There won't be any punishment. I'd like you to relax, but if you can't that's fine. You're good, you are doing so well."
The shaking diminished a little. "I'm g-good?" Watery blue eyes stared up at him over Barnes's shoulder.
"You are great," T'Challa repeated. "You are doing so well, I am so proud of you."
Barnes gave him the tiniest shy little smile. T'Challa smiled back warmly. Without looking away, he blindly opened the bottle of massage oil and spread it over both hands. They were still warm from the shower so he wasted no time putting both hands flat on Barnes's shoulder blades.
Barnes moaned, the porn-worthy sound trailing off into a happy sigh as T'Challa began to move his hands, slowly beginning to massage Barnes's entire back one area at a time.
At first, T'Challa focused on the massage to the exclusion of everything else. But after a while, guilt started heckling him because he was once again putting off the inevitable. He wasn't usually a man to dawdle once his task was clear. Why was this so different?
And still, even though he knew he was stalling, he went on with the massage. Barnes was enjoying this, surely it couldn't be a bad thing?
Another five minutes passed, ten, half an hour. With every time he looked at the clock and found the hands had miraculously jumped stunning distances since his last look, he felt worse. Eventually, he could no longer put it off.
Not really wanting to look, but wanting to hurt Barnes even less, he made himself focus on the man's arse. One hand began massaging the left cheek and pulling it aside a little as the other hesitantly trailed down the crease.
Barnes froze.
T'Challa stopped, withdrawing the hand. Wasn't this what Barnes needed, then? "Do you want this?" he asked, needing to check despite the certainty that Barnes wasn't capable of informed consent at the moment. He couldn't not ask.
Unfortunately, Barnes's core personality was still disengaged. "I only want to please you," Barnes informed him in a throaty whisper. "I have no other purpose." Although... had there been a slight edge to the comment? T'Challa stared hard at Barnes, but the man was facing forward now and the back of his head really wasn't all that expressive.
"It will please me not to hurt you while we do this," T'Challa said, his low voice as calm and soothing as he could make it while still sounding sincere. "If you tell me what you like, I will listen."
Barnes relaxed fractionally, but T'Challa thought it might be from defeat rather than relief, going by his words. "I am here for you to use as you like."
"Right." Wishful thinking, then. Barnes wasn't being sarcastic and self-aware. He was probably just really on edge because T'Challa wasn't sticking to the script the Winter Soldier had been given, and in the Soldier's experience that most likely translated to unpredictable, large amounts of pain and humiliation.
Feeling a hundred years old, T'Challa once more warily put a well-lubed finger to Barnes's hole and began tracing very soft circles around it. Barnes was stiff as a board underneath him. And he stayed that way for the next ten minutes while T'Challa tried and failed to get the man's body to open up.
Slowly letting out his pent-up breath little by little to stop himself from huffing in frustration, T'Challa reclaimed his finger and sat back on his haunches. "Well," he said, "this is not working."
Barnes started trembling again. "Sir, there's no need for all this. If you're worried I'll squeeze you too hard, just put something else in first. You can use a... a plug, or a baton, or -" He raised his head, frantically looking around for a suitable tool "-that bottle of massage oil is looking real handy, or that scabbard there." He tried something that might have been intended as an inviting smile but only succeeded in making him look scared spitless.
"It's alright," T'Challa said, voice low and as calm as he could make it. Use whatever is at hand, was that what Hydra had normally done? What did Hydra agents usually have at hand when they raped their superhuman asset? Stun batons, weapons, medical equipment? Lady have mercy. And the bottle he was holding had a diameter at least twice the width of his cock. There was no need for such an extreme dilation. What was more, if he forced this in when Barnes was as tense as he was now, T'Challa was sure to cause immense damage. Was that what Barnes was expecting him to do? What was usually done to him after this trigger was activated?
T'Challa remembered how fiercely the Winter Soldier had fought even when injured. It had seemed like he didn't even notice his wounds. What did it take to make a man like that tremble and cower? What punishment was he expecting if he failed to service T'Challa? And how much was he expecting to be hurt even if he complied?
"I refuse to hurt you," he said slowly. "There has to be some way to get you to relax."
"Drugs will work," Barnes offered, sounding very unsure of himself.
I want to give Bucky some legitimate drug like Prozac or some such and have him suffer horribly from side effects... but I'm also extremely tempted to have him and T'Challa smoke pot. This might get really cracky really fast if I do that, though. Opinions?