“Man, strike team really doesn't fuckin’ clean up after themselves.”
It doesn’t respond. The comment wasn’t directed at it, and honestly, it’s not sure if it even could with the metal ring still lodged uncomfortably in its mouth, propping its jaw open. The guy prods at him with the toe of a boot, and he squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for another round of pain. Fuck, it--, he, he thought it was gonna be over. Frozen back into numbness for another long while, before another mission starts and concludes, and the team decides they want to celebrate again.
A second set of footsteps follow. Shit. He doesn’t know why he even knows how to panic, he’s been out of cryo for too long, he shouldn’t feel fear, he’s--
“Holy shit. Is that the Winter Soldier?“
No. No, he thinks hysterically. It’s not the Winter fucking Soldier. If it-- if he was, is, his heart rate wouldn’t be climbing like this. The Winter Soldier wouldn’t be this weak, held in place by metal contraptions and passed around like a fucking sex doll. He feels raw all over, oversensitive and numb at the same time.
“Yeah, after a good mission they like to have some fun. Recreational activity, gotta blow off some steam, ya know?”
“What about bad missions?”
“They have even more fun. Don’t ask stupid questions.” The voice didn’t sound disgusted, just bland and disinterested. But that didn’t mean anything. He could still... if he wanted to. Grab his hips and drag him back upright, and it was just the three of them in the room and he was clearly the highest ranking here. If he wanted use the Asset’s secondary function, there was nobody here to stop him. Why would anybody stop him.
He can hear the footsteps draw closer. The crinkle of fabric, and fingers sweeps strands of hair out of his eyes. He’s checking for lucidity, Bucky knows, but he couldn’t help but shiver at the touch. It wasn’t soft, nothing like that, but it wasn’t cruel, and the perfunctory handling made some animal part of him sing for more.
“C’mon. Up, soldier. Let’s get you cleaned up.” The first man again. The other one had gotten rid of the metal bar propping his legs open, and was undoing the strap behind his head that held the gag in.
He rises to his feet fluidly, and feels a strange, detached sense of embarrassment at the low twinge in his gut and the ache in his ass. They’d also carved tally marks, he was pretty sure, on the inner thigh and lower back. Every step forward sends little sparks of pain shooting up his legs.
He follows the first man out of the room while the second one places the tools back into a closet. They clink together and it sounded familiar, and he has enough consciousness to wonder how many times this has happened before. The body had remembered, he knew. The faces were hazy and amorphous, but it didn’t matter who. Eventually they all wanted the same thing. Eventually they would all be replaced. Eventually they would all want to hurt the Asset, because he’s just so pretty when he’s suffering, aren’t you, doll?
One walks in front, and the other behind as they make their way out of the room into the open hallway. Bucky’s eyes landed on the hair of the man walking in front of him, the long strands of gold that looked almost brown in the cold light of the halls. It struck some chord of familiarity in him, and as they passed a particularly bright hallway light, individual strands of backlit hair practically glowed. Bucky missed him more than ever now, but couldn’t quite place a metal finger on who.
He’s dragged out of his spiraling thoughts with the dual tap of heels and combat boots. A high ranking officer, by the way she held herself and the air of indifference. He ducks his head, flushing with embarrassment. But he wasn’t sure what for, he did his job as an asset, as a weapon, and as a reward for the team. He followed orders. As he walks behind the guard, he felt a drop of something, spit or blood or come or some combination of all three slide down his thigh. He feels another hot flash of shame, but he’s not sure why. The man’s gaze was simply disgusted, but the woman’s eyes held something almost predatory in them that reminded him of Rumlow.
[FILL 1/?] Re: Trash aftermath boners, how embarrassing
It doesn’t respond. The comment wasn’t directed at it, and honestly, it’s not sure if it even could with the metal ring still lodged uncomfortably in its mouth, propping its jaw open. The guy prods at him with the toe of a boot, and he squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for another round of pain. Fuck, it--, he, he thought it was gonna be over. Frozen back into numbness for another long while, before another mission starts and concludes, and the team decides they want to celebrate again.
A second set of footsteps follow. Shit. He doesn’t know why he even knows how to panic, he’s been out of cryo for too long, he shouldn’t feel fear, he’s--
“Holy shit. Is that the Winter Soldier?“
No. No, he thinks hysterically. It’s not the Winter fucking Soldier. If it-- if he was, is, his heart rate wouldn’t be climbing like this. The Winter Soldier wouldn’t be this weak, held in place by metal contraptions and passed around like a fucking sex doll. He feels raw all over, oversensitive and numb at the same time.
“Yeah, after a good mission they like to have some fun. Recreational activity, gotta blow off some steam, ya know?”
“What about bad missions?”
“They have even more fun. Don’t ask stupid questions.” The voice didn’t sound disgusted, just bland and disinterested. But that didn’t mean anything. He could still... if he wanted to. Grab his hips and drag him back upright, and it was just the three of them in the room and he was clearly the highest ranking here. If he wanted use the Asset’s secondary function, there was nobody here to stop him. Why would anybody stop him.
He can hear the footsteps draw closer. The crinkle of fabric, and fingers sweeps strands of hair out of his eyes. He’s checking for lucidity, Bucky knows, but he couldn’t help but shiver at the touch. It wasn’t soft, nothing like that, but it wasn’t cruel, and the perfunctory handling made some animal part of him sing for more.
“C’mon. Up, soldier. Let’s get you cleaned up.” The first man again. The other one had gotten rid of the metal bar propping his legs open, and was undoing the strap behind his head that held the gag in.
He rises to his feet fluidly, and feels a strange, detached sense of embarrassment at the low twinge in his gut and the ache in his ass. They’d also carved tally marks, he was pretty sure, on the inner thigh and lower back. Every step forward sends little sparks of pain shooting up his legs.
He follows the first man out of the room while the second one places the tools back into a closet. They clink together and it sounded familiar, and he has enough consciousness to wonder how many times this has happened before. The body had remembered, he knew. The faces were hazy and amorphous, but it didn’t matter who. Eventually they all wanted the same thing. Eventually they would all be replaced. Eventually they would all want to hurt the Asset, because he’s just so pretty when he’s suffering, aren’t you, doll?
One walks in front, and the other behind as they make their way out of the room into the open hallway. Bucky’s eyes landed on the hair of the man walking in front of him, the long strands of gold that looked almost brown in the cold light of the halls. It struck some chord of familiarity in him, and as they passed a particularly bright hallway light, individual strands of backlit hair practically glowed. Bucky missed him more than ever now, but couldn’t quite place a metal finger on who.
He’s dragged out of his spiraling thoughts with the dual tap of heels and combat boots. A high ranking officer, by the way she held herself and the air of indifference. He ducks his head, flushing with embarrassment. But he wasn’t sure what for, he did his job as an asset, as a weapon, and as a reward for the team. He followed orders. As he walks behind the guard, he felt a drop of something, spit or blood or come or some combination of all three slide down his thigh. He feels another hot flash of shame, but he’s not sure why. The man’s gaze was simply disgusted, but the woman’s eyes held something almost predatory in them that reminded him of Rumlow.