(AA) I've mapped out four parts for this, all from different character's POVs. It's meant to take place during the events of TWS and afterwards, circumventing CW. Besides a blanket non-con/rape warning, there are also homophobic slurs in this.
I. Rumlow
He'd only wanted to check ESPN to see the highlights of the game he'd missed last night (thanks, now-assassinated politician from Bolivia). CNN had been the channel his TV blinked on to, and Steve Rogers' golden-boy face had been there. Misty-eyed as he talked about whatever bullshit he was there to spew for SHIELD. Truth, justice, the American way. If only he knew.
Brock's finger was poised on the remote to change the channel to something less vomit-inducing, but then he registered the words underneath Rogers. CAPTAIN AMERICA SPEAKS OUT ABOUT VICTIMS OF SEXUAL ABUSE. He paused. This might actually be good for a laugh.
"-and we have this preconceived notion of what a victim is supposed to be," Rogers was saying passionately. "Any variation from that, and you get the tired excuses we use to justify and ignore this evil. Like thinking that what a victim wears makes them responsible for their assault on any level. The normalization of rape-culture. The idea that men can't be victims of sexual abuse."
"Yeah, Cap," Brock jeered at the TV. "Take back the night!"
"You spoke earlier this week at a fundraiser for male abuse survivors," prompted a female reporter from off-camera. "You talked about a friend of yours who'd been assaulted. One of the famous Howling Commandos, Sergeant James Barnes?"
"Bucky," Rogers' voice quavered, and Brock snickered as he made himself comfortable on his couch. "Yes, and I- I wouldn't have told his story if he was alive today, but, uh, I really think he would want me to. I think he would've wanted to help other people who are going through the same thing. He was proof that this can happen to anybody, and it doesn't make you any less strong, or brave, or good. It doesn't make you any less of a man- "
Brock was starting to tune out Rogers' drivel, but then a new image flashed onscreen and he sat up straighter, his interest renewed. He'd probably seen the picture before, in one of the files on Rogers' history that he'd had to read before he took the assignment to work closely with the Captain. It was a black-and-white picture of a grim-faced young man sitting next to Steve Rogers in all his 1940-whatever splendor, but unlike the pictures in the file, this one was blown up, life-size and in HD. Brock squinted, trying to determine if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Because he knew that face in real life. He'd only seen it a handful of times, but he knew it. It was hard to forget the face of HYDRA's most-feared assassin.
"Well, I'll be a son of a bitch," he said out loud when he figured out that his eyes were working just fine. "Wait 'til Rollins hears about this."
*
"No shit, dumbass," Rollins scoffed at Brock later that morning while they stood with three of their teammates, waiting for their debriefing from the previous night. "You didn't know? I thought everybody knew."
"I didn't know," Johannson piped up, but his mouth snapped shut when Brock focused his ire on him.
"The Asset is Captain America's best buddy from the good old days," Brock turned back to Rollins to make sure the other man wasn't messing with him. "How the fuck was that not highlight number one on the need-to-know portion of this STRIKE team?"
Rollins shrugged.
"I figured it out pretty easily."
"Well, ain't you mister gifted-and-talented," Brock grumbled.
"Didn't know he was a fag, though," Rollins' lip curled. "That's disappointing."
"Hey, just 'cause he got raped doesn't make him a- "
It was Rollins' turn to glare Johansson into silence. Brock laughed.
"Rollins being a ‘phobe notwithstanding, I think you gentlemen are missing the opportunities this presents,” Brock licked his lips, thinking about the picture he’d seen on TV. Thinking about the Asset’s blank stare as he took orders. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. He’s got that pretty face, those pouty lips, and that hair. Goddamn."
"What are you talking about, Rumlow?" Morrison asked. Brock rounded on him.
"I'm talking about a living, breathing sex doll. I’m talking about literally sticking it to that sanctimonious fuckwad Rogers and his entire fucking legacy.”
“You want to fuck the Asset?”
“Yeah, Ramirez,” Brock turned to him. “I wanna fuck the Asset.”
“I saw him rip a man’s throat out with that arm of his,” Ramirez said with awe. “I wouldn’t let him anywhere near my dick. I mean, if I even swung that way.”
Brock rolled his eyes.
“Okay, but, you know why he ripped that guy’s throat out? Because he was ordered to, directly or not,” Brock explained as if to a child. “They got these words, and if you say them to him he’s gotta do whatever you tell him to. Whether that’s 'kill this guy' or 'get on your knees' is up to you.”
“But I don’t swing that way,” Ramirez repeated, a little too forcefully.
“Good, more for me.”
“Is he even really a man, though?” Morrison mused “I’ve always thought of him as more of a thing. Like an it not a he. Like, is it gay if you fuck a vacuum cleaner?”
“If it has a dick, yeah,” Ramirez said.
“All of this is pointless speculation,” Rollins interrupted. “Because none of us are a high enough level to know the Asset’s command codes.”
“Leave that to me.”
Brock spoke with more confidence than he actually had. He was committed now, though. The more he thought about it, the more he needed to feel the Asset’s mouth on his cock. The more he needed to hear him grunt while Brock fucked him like a whore. Thanks for the hot tip, Rogers.
He grinned idiotically.
“Pierce will kill you,” Rollins warned. “If you even get that far.”
Fill: Speaking Out (1/4)
I. Rumlow
He'd only wanted to check ESPN to see the highlights of the game he'd missed last night (thanks, now-assassinated politician from Bolivia). CNN had been the channel his TV blinked on to, and Steve Rogers' golden-boy face had been there. Misty-eyed as he talked about whatever bullshit he was there to spew for SHIELD. Truth, justice, the American way. If only he knew.
Brock's finger was poised on the remote to change the channel to something less vomit-inducing, but then he registered the words underneath Rogers. CAPTAIN AMERICA SPEAKS OUT ABOUT VICTIMS OF SEXUAL ABUSE. He paused. This might actually be good for a laugh.
"-and we have this preconceived notion of what a victim is supposed to be," Rogers was saying passionately. "Any variation from that, and you get the tired excuses we use to justify and ignore this evil. Like thinking that what a victim wears makes them responsible for their assault on any level. The normalization of rape-culture. The idea that men can't be victims of sexual abuse."
"Yeah, Cap," Brock jeered at the TV. "Take back the night!"
"You spoke earlier this week at a fundraiser for male abuse survivors," prompted a female reporter from off-camera. "You talked about a friend of yours who'd been assaulted. One of the famous Howling Commandos, Sergeant James Barnes?"
"Bucky," Rogers' voice quavered, and Brock snickered as he made himself comfortable on his couch. "Yes, and I- I wouldn't have told his story if he was alive today, but, uh, I really think he would want me to. I think he would've wanted to help other people who are going through the same thing. He was proof that this can happen to anybody, and it doesn't make you any less strong, or brave, or good. It doesn't make you any less of a man- "
Brock was starting to tune out Rogers' drivel, but then a new image flashed onscreen and he sat up straighter, his interest renewed. He'd probably seen the picture before, in one of the files on Rogers' history that he'd had to read before he took the assignment to work closely with the Captain. It was a black-and-white picture of a grim-faced young man sitting next to Steve Rogers in all his 1940-whatever splendor, but unlike the pictures in the file, this one was blown up, life-size and in HD. Brock squinted, trying to determine if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Because he knew that face in real life. He'd only seen it a handful of times, but he knew it. It was hard to forget the face of HYDRA's most-feared assassin.
"Well, I'll be a son of a bitch," he said out loud when he figured out that his eyes were working just fine. "Wait 'til Rollins hears about this."
*
"No shit, dumbass," Rollins scoffed at Brock later that morning while they stood with three of their teammates, waiting for their debriefing from the previous night. "You didn't know? I thought everybody knew."
"I didn't know," Johannson piped up, but his mouth snapped shut when Brock focused his ire on him.
"The Asset is Captain America's best buddy from the good old days," Brock turned back to Rollins to make sure the other man wasn't messing with him. "How the fuck was that not highlight number one on the need-to-know portion of this STRIKE team?"
Rollins shrugged.
"I figured it out pretty easily."
"Well, ain't you mister gifted-and-talented," Brock grumbled.
"Didn't know he was a fag, though," Rollins' lip curled. "That's disappointing."
"Hey, just 'cause he got raped doesn't make him a- "
It was Rollins' turn to glare Johansson into silence. Brock laughed.
"Rollins being a ‘phobe notwithstanding, I think you gentlemen are missing the opportunities this presents,” Brock licked his lips, thinking about the picture he’d seen on TV. Thinking about the Asset’s blank stare as he took orders. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. He’s got that pretty face, those pouty lips, and that hair. Goddamn."
"What are you talking about, Rumlow?" Morrison asked. Brock rounded on him.
"I'm talking about a living, breathing sex doll. I’m talking about literally sticking it to that sanctimonious fuckwad Rogers and his entire fucking legacy.”
“You want to fuck the Asset?”
“Yeah, Ramirez,” Brock turned to him. “I wanna fuck the Asset.”
“I saw him rip a man’s throat out with that arm of his,” Ramirez said with awe. “I wouldn’t let him anywhere near my dick. I mean, if I even swung that way.”
Brock rolled his eyes.
“Okay, but, you know why he ripped that guy’s throat out? Because he was ordered to, directly or not,” Brock explained as if to a child. “They got these words, and if you say them to him he’s gotta do whatever you tell him to. Whether that’s 'kill this guy' or 'get on your knees' is up to you.”
“But I don’t swing that way,” Ramirez repeated, a little too forcefully.
“Good, more for me.”
“Is he even really a man, though?” Morrison mused “I’ve always thought of him as more of a thing. Like an it not a he. Like, is it gay if you fuck a vacuum cleaner?”
“If it has a dick, yeah,” Ramirez said.
“All of this is pointless speculation,” Rollins interrupted. “Because none of us are a high enough level to know the Asset’s command codes.”
“Leave that to me.”
Brock spoke with more confidence than he actually had. He was committed now, though. The more he thought about it, the more he needed to feel the Asset’s mouth on his cock. The more he needed to hear him grunt while Brock fucked him like a whore. Thanks for the hot tip, Rogers.
He grinned idiotically.
“Pierce will kill you,” Rollins warned. “If you even get that far.”
“Please,” Brock scoffed. “He’ll probably wanna join in. He’ll probably promote me.”
“In your dreams.”
Brock thought he saw the flash of a hungry gleam in Rollins’ eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Brock promised him smugly. “Once you see how good it is, I’ll let you have a turn, too.”