I had to divide this part up in two pieces to fit.
------
There is pain in the Asset's left leg. It cannot move the limb. The air is cold and smells of blood, gunpowder and dirt.
In the darkness there is a voice that says, “I'm so sorry, Bucky!” It's Handler Rogers. “This is all my fault, I lost track of where you were and deflected that blast right at you! I'm so sorry, please wake up! The guys are getting you stitched back up. I-”
Another, gruffer voice interrupts Handler Rogers, “Steve, it's okay. We got him stabilized. Going by the way you two can shrug of bullet wounds to the chest, I'd say he'll live. Your tourniquet saved his leg though, Steve. You did good.”
“But I-” Handler Rogers begins to say, but gets interrupted again. The Asset has the faint urge to strangle that gruff voice.
“You made a mistake, Steve, We all do. You're human just like the rest of us, fancy powers or not. This is war, people get hurt and die, but you saved him.”
…...
The Asset wakes up, still in Handler Rogers's arms, curled into a tight ball. It's still wearing most of the safety gear, only the leash, muzzle and earbuds missing. They're inside the apartment though, so it's safe.
Handler Rogers is so warm and strong it stays still and quiet so the moment can stretch out a bit longer.
“You awake, Asset?” Handler Rogers asks.
The Asset twitches, caught in the act of stealing more of the touch than it deserve. It nods guiltily, getting ready to be dumped on the floor.
“Do you know who I am?” Handler Rogers asks instead, he doesn't sound angry like the Asset expects.
It licks its dry lips, blinks at the sofa they’re still sitting in. “Yes, Sir. You are the Asset's Handler, Steven Grant Rogers, codename: Captain America, Sir.”
Handler Rogers rewards the good answer by stroking the Asset's hair with a soft hand, the touch zings up its spine.
The Asset tries to suppress a moan as the steel between the Asset's legs bites down on a growing erection, though that does nothing to stop the member from trying again when the Asset realizes its body is yielding to Handler Rogers's will. Safe, secure, can't do anything wrong. The heat spikes, and the cage keeps it down. Like a pendulum.
The ebb and flow of pleasure is cut short when Handler Rogers asks, “Do you remember what happened before we got here?”
He still doesn't sound angry, but the Asset tenses up anyway. “Yes, sir.” It whimpers. “The Asset failed to be useful, Sir. It...it was ungrateful towards agent Wilson, and broke the rules…” Water is swimming in its eyes. ”...And it brought h-harm to Ha-andler Ro-gers...sir.” The Asset struggles to get out of Handler Rogers's hold, to get down on the floor where it belongs.
A hand gripping onto the back of the collar puts a stop to that. “No. You stay where I put you, Asset,” Handler Rogers says sternly, moving the Asset to sit upright in his lap. Its arms fold themselves behind the Asset's back, instinctively trying to be good.
A finger tilts the Asset's chin up so it looks into Handler Rogers's eyes. Eyes that aren't angry at all, eyes as blue as the clear and calm open sky.
“I am not angry with you, Asset,” Handler Rogers says firmly, “And here's why: You were useful, you always are to me.” The Asset mewls, but the gentle finger stops it from looking away again as the wonderful words just keep pouring over it. ”You weren't ungrateful, Sam just surprised you. I should have known better than to allow him that close without letting you know, okay. So, not your fault.”
The Asset can hardly fathom the extent of Handler Rogers's mercy. It should be used to it by now, not struck speechless by how kind Handler Rogers can be. The Asset can't move, can't hide from Handler Rogers's truth, because it's not allowed to. The Asset must show some measure of gratitude though, it needs to.
The finger at its chin is just close enough to risk it. The Asset warily leans forward to place a quick kiss to the strong digit, careful to keep eye contact with Handler Rogers, showing that it's still listening.
The blue eyes go a little soft around the edges like only Handler Rogers's can. He lets it know it has permission to continue by raising the hand to give the Asset better reach. The Asset places a feathery peck to each knuckle, then slowly starts to succle on the very tip of Handler Rogers's index finger. When it doesn't get any sign to stop it takes Handler Rogers a little deeper, and a little deeper still, tasting of salt skin and flowery sunscreen. When the Asset has the entire finger cradled in its mouth, Handler Rogers start smiling gently around his words.
“You discovered a flaw in the safety gear, and then you tried to prevent something bad from happening because of that, right? You tried to get away from Sam to protect him?” The Asset nods because it is true. “That is good, Asset! That's so, so good! I'm proud of you!”
The Asset blinks, shocked. Handler Rogers wipes the new beads of water from it's eyes with his free hand, and then cradles its face.
“You couldn't know the leash would snag on the chair.”- The Asset starts to tense back up. -”No, no! I'm fine, it didn't even really hurt, but it wasn't your fault, okay? Say it. ‘Not the Asset's fault.’”
It can't divert blame from itself, but it can't disobey Handler Rogers either. Forcing its lips to form the words around the finger, it stutters out an uncertain, “N...no-t...the Asset's...f-fault?” It can't quite hide the doubt.
“That's right!” Handler Rogers smiles reassuringly, so it must have done the right thing. It tries to smile back, Handler Rogers likes it when the Asset smiles. “Good job, Asset. Good job!”
The world goes warm and fuzzy again. Handler Rogers's words echo around the Asset. It did good. It's not going to be punished. Handler Rogers is happy. The Asset-
Is Good -
Is Safe -
Is Kept -
Is Happy -
…...
The Asset comes back once more, suckling on something different, smaller than a finger, tasting of more sunscreen.
It's Handler Rogers's nipple, perked nub rubbing the Asset's tongue. Handler Rogers moans. It's the most beautiful sound the Asset has ever heard.
Handler Rogers's hands hover over the back of the Asset's head, not gripping, not guiding, just permitting the Asset to move on its own.
Another groan leads the Asset to look up. Handler Rogers is flushing bright red all the way down to his collarbones, eyes closed, biting his lip. He pants and blinks up at the ceiling, a faraway look to his eyes.
The Asset let's go of the nipple, stunned by the glorious sight in front of it. Handler Rogers huffs and looks down at the Asset with a dazed expression. He smiles faintly and combs a hand through long dark tresses, scratching gently over the scalp. The Asset arches into the contact.
Unable to stop itself, it basks in the attention, greedy. The Asset knows it isn't supposed to, but it wants.
Bucking forward, chasing for pleasure in vain because of the cage, the Asset notices the hardness in Handler Rogers's shorts, tenting the thin fabric with a wet spot darkening the center of a white star.
The Asset pleased Handler Rogers, it made him blush, it got him hard. The locking plug has stretched the Asset, it's still wet with lube, it's ready for him. Handler Rogers could fuck the Asset right now. The Asset could give him such pleasure, it could show the gratitude that's holding ready to burst in its chest.
If only Handler Rogers would fuck the Asset.
“Let's-let’s save this for tonight, alright. It's still a such a nice day outside, 'be a shame to let it go to waste.”
Handler Rogers doesn't fuck the Asset. Instead the heat gets to coil in on itself even more intense than before. The Asset's dick doesn't stop throbbing with more want.
Handler Rogers takes the Asset off the couch and tells it to stay there while he goes to switch to a new pair of swim shorts, but not before the Asset spies an even bigger wet spot on his left thigh.
While Handler Rogers is away, the Asset thinks what might happen when they go up to the roof terrace again. Maybe the agents have left by now and freed up the grass area.
The Asset also notices that it won't stop leaking precome. Some distant part of the Asset's mind notes that the metal cage makes it look like a leaky faucet.
When Handler Rogers returns wearing a pair of light blue swim shorts he also has a nondescript box underneath his arm.
He crouches down in front if the Asset and puts the box between them, smiling reassuringly even though the Asset is pretty sure there's nothing bad inside. Handler Rogers wouldn't surprise the Asset like that, at least he hasn't done anything like that yet.
“While you were tuckered out, I had a talk with Tony about the safety gear.” The Asset looks up at the clock mounted above the living room doorway. It doesn't know how long they spent outside before the incident but it's approaching noon. Handler Rogers says, “You slept for just over an hour, I texted him because I didn't want to wake you up when I could see you needed the rest.”
The Asset doesn't understand why Handler Rogers would do that, but the Asset nods, grateful nonetheless.
“Right. Well, so I was thinking about an upgrade. After what we found out earlier about your arm we'll need to secure them,” Handler Rogers states tersely, flipping up the top of the box.
Fill: Asset Management 8a/?
I had to divide this part up in two pieces to fit.
------
There is pain in the Asset's left leg. It cannot move the limb. The air is cold and smells of blood, gunpowder and dirt.
In the darkness there is a voice that says, “I'm so sorry, Bucky!” It's Handler Rogers. “This is all my fault, I lost track of where you were and deflected that blast right at you! I'm so sorry, please wake up! The guys are getting you stitched back up. I-”
Another, gruffer voice interrupts Handler Rogers, “Steve, it's okay. We got him stabilized. Going by the way you two can shrug of bullet wounds to the chest, I'd say he'll live. Your tourniquet saved his leg though, Steve. You did good.”
“But I-” Handler Rogers begins to say, but gets interrupted again. The Asset has the faint urge to strangle that gruff voice.
“You made a mistake, Steve, We all do. You're human just like the rest of us, fancy powers or not. This is war, people get hurt and die, but you saved him.”
…...
The Asset wakes up, still in Handler Rogers's arms, curled into a tight ball. It's still wearing most of the safety gear, only the leash, muzzle and earbuds missing. They're inside the apartment though, so it's safe.
Handler Rogers is so warm and strong it stays still and quiet so the moment can stretch out a bit longer.
“You awake, Asset?” Handler Rogers asks.
The Asset twitches, caught in the act of stealing more of the touch than it deserve. It nods guiltily, getting ready to be dumped on the floor.
“Do you know who I am?” Handler Rogers asks instead, he doesn't sound angry like the Asset expects.
It licks its dry lips, blinks at the sofa they’re still sitting in. “Yes, Sir. You are the Asset's Handler, Steven Grant Rogers, codename: Captain America, Sir.”
Handler Rogers rewards the good answer by stroking the Asset's hair with a soft hand, the touch zings up its spine.
The Asset tries to suppress a moan as the steel between the Asset's legs bites down on a growing erection, though that does nothing to stop the member from trying again when the Asset realizes its body is yielding to Handler Rogers's will. Safe, secure, can't do anything wrong. The heat spikes, and the cage keeps it down. Like a pendulum.
The ebb and flow of pleasure is cut short when Handler Rogers asks, “Do you remember what happened before we got here?”
He still doesn't sound angry, but the Asset tenses up anyway. “Yes, sir.” It whimpers. “The Asset failed to be useful, Sir. It...it was ungrateful towards agent Wilson, and broke the rules…” Water is swimming in its eyes. ”...And it brought h-harm to Ha-andler Ro-gers...sir.” The Asset struggles to get out of Handler Rogers's hold, to get down on the floor where it belongs.
A hand gripping onto the back of the collar puts a stop to that. “No. You stay where I put you, Asset,” Handler Rogers says sternly, moving the Asset to sit upright in his lap. Its arms fold themselves behind the Asset's back, instinctively trying to be good.
A finger tilts the Asset's chin up so it looks into Handler Rogers's eyes. Eyes that aren't angry at all, eyes as blue as the clear and calm open sky.
“I am not angry with you, Asset,” Handler Rogers says firmly, “And here's why: You were useful, you always are to me.” The Asset mewls, but the gentle finger stops it from looking away again as the wonderful words just keep pouring over it. ”You weren't ungrateful, Sam just surprised you. I should have known better than to allow him that close without letting you know, okay. So, not your fault.”
The Asset can hardly fathom the extent of Handler Rogers's mercy. It should be used to it by now, not struck speechless by how kind Handler Rogers can be. The Asset can't move, can't hide from Handler Rogers's truth, because it's not allowed to. The Asset must show some measure of gratitude though, it needs to.
The finger at its chin is just close enough to risk it. The Asset warily leans forward to place a quick kiss to the strong digit, careful to keep eye contact with Handler Rogers, showing that it's still listening.
The blue eyes go a little soft around the edges like only Handler Rogers's can. He lets it know it has permission to continue by raising the hand to give the Asset better reach. The Asset places a feathery peck to each knuckle, then slowly starts to succle on the very tip of Handler Rogers's index finger. When it doesn't get any sign to stop it takes Handler Rogers a little deeper, and a little deeper still, tasting of salt skin and flowery sunscreen. When the Asset has the entire finger cradled in its mouth, Handler Rogers start smiling gently around his words.
“You discovered a flaw in the safety gear, and then you tried to prevent something bad from happening because of that, right? You tried to get away from Sam to protect him?” The Asset nods because it is true. “That is good, Asset! That's so, so good! I'm proud of you!”
The Asset blinks, shocked. Handler Rogers wipes the new beads of water from it's eyes with his free hand, and then cradles its face.
“You couldn't know the leash would snag on the chair.”- The Asset starts to tense back up. -”No, no! I'm fine, it didn't even really hurt, but it wasn't your fault, okay? Say it. ‘Not the Asset's fault.’”
It can't divert blame from itself, but it can't disobey Handler Rogers either. Forcing its lips to form the words around the finger, it stutters out an uncertain, “N...no-t...the Asset's...f-fault?” It can't quite hide the doubt.
“That's right!” Handler Rogers smiles reassuringly, so it must have done the right thing. It tries to smile back, Handler Rogers likes it when the Asset smiles. “Good job, Asset. Good job!”
The world goes warm and fuzzy again. Handler Rogers's words echo around the Asset. It did good. It's not going to be punished. Handler Rogers is happy. The Asset-
Is Good -
Is Safe -
Is Kept -
Is Happy -
…...
The Asset comes back once more, suckling on something different, smaller than a finger, tasting of more sunscreen.
It's Handler Rogers's nipple, perked nub rubbing the Asset's tongue. Handler Rogers moans. It's the most beautiful sound the Asset has ever heard.
Handler Rogers's hands hover over the back of the Asset's head, not gripping, not guiding, just permitting the Asset to move on its own.
Another groan leads the Asset to look up. Handler Rogers is flushing bright red all the way down to his collarbones, eyes closed, biting his lip. He pants and blinks up at the ceiling, a faraway look to his eyes.
The Asset let's go of the nipple, stunned by the glorious sight in front of it. Handler Rogers huffs and looks down at the Asset with a dazed expression. He smiles faintly and combs a hand through long dark tresses, scratching gently over the scalp. The Asset arches into the contact.
Unable to stop itself, it basks in the attention, greedy. The Asset knows it isn't supposed to, but it wants.
Bucking forward, chasing for pleasure in vain because of the cage, the Asset notices the hardness in Handler Rogers's shorts, tenting the thin fabric with a wet spot darkening the center of a white star.
The Asset pleased Handler Rogers, it made him blush, it got him hard. The locking plug has stretched the Asset, it's still wet with lube, it's ready for him. Handler Rogers could fuck the Asset right now. The Asset could give him such pleasure, it could show the gratitude that's holding ready to burst in its chest.
If only Handler Rogers would fuck the Asset.
“Let's-let’s save this for tonight, alright. It's still a such a nice day outside, 'be a shame to let it go to waste.”
Handler Rogers doesn't fuck the Asset. Instead the heat gets to coil in on itself even more intense than before. The Asset's dick doesn't stop throbbing with more want.
Handler Rogers takes the Asset off the couch and tells it to stay there while he goes to switch to a new pair of swim shorts, but not before the Asset spies an even bigger wet spot on his left thigh.
While Handler Rogers is away, the Asset thinks what might happen when they go up to the roof terrace again. Maybe the agents have left by now and freed up the grass area.
The Asset also notices that it won't stop leaking precome. Some distant part of the Asset's mind notes that the metal cage makes it look like a leaky faucet.
When Handler Rogers returns wearing a pair of light blue swim shorts he also has a nondescript box underneath his arm.
He crouches down in front if the Asset and puts the box between them, smiling reassuringly even though the Asset is pretty sure there's nothing bad inside. Handler Rogers wouldn't surprise the Asset like that, at least he hasn't done anything like that yet.
“While you were tuckered out, I had a talk with Tony about the safety gear.” The Asset looks up at the clock mounted above the living room doorway. It doesn't know how long they spent outside before the incident but it's approaching noon. Handler Rogers says, “You slept for just over an hour, I texted him because I didn't want to wake you up when I could see you needed the rest.”
The Asset doesn't understand why Handler Rogers would do that, but the Asset nods, grateful nonetheless.
“Right. Well, so I was thinking about an upgrade. After what we found out earlier about your arm we'll need to secure them,” Handler Rogers states tersely, flipping up the top of the box.
------