hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

Welcome to the latest, greatest, scummiest iteration of

hydratrashmeme. Come on in and please check your sense of shame at the door.

Rules in brief: Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because this is emphatically not a safe space. Link your fills on the fill post. Unprompted fills: make a prompt or a header comment and reply to it with the full text. Continuations of fills from earlier rounds: just make sure you link in both places.

What's on-topic: Filthy and perverted twists on all the quality whump served up by Cap: Winter Soldier. Noncon, aftermath, uncomfortably sexualized violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves.
What's off-topic: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, shippy/romanticized noncon, MCU heroes repurposed into OOC or edgydark delivery vehicles for your fave's suffering. If you've got a prompt for one of those burning a hole in your brain, head on over to

mcu_trash.

[Rules in full] [Round 1] [Round 2] [Round 3] [Round 4] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive] [Round 5 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

“Steven. Steven.”

Steve didn’t want to wake up. He’d learned how to more or less sleep through the bell and the light, and none of the regular procedures required his participation, or even that he be conscious. And he was so tired.

“Please don’t,” he tried to say around the gag. They should just let him rest. He was giving them everything they wanted already. What else could they possibly expect from him?

“Steven.”

He felt hands on his face, fumbling with the gag. The leather came loose from the buckle at the back of his head, and then the rubber phallus was pulled from his mouth, trailing saliva. He pried his eyes open, anxious to see what might be disrupting the daily schedule, and saw Peggy Carter staring down at the damp, phallus-shaped gag in her hand, mouth open and eyes wide.

Steve tried to swallow despite a very dry mouth, and rasped out, “Agent Carter?”

Her eyes snapped to him, and she seemed to shake herself a little. “Good. You’re awake. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” Steve looked beyond Carter to see Howard Stark badgering a bewildered Private Davies into handing him the day’s charts and paperwork.

“Let’s move, son. Come on, hop to,” Stark said with a grand gesture. “Equipment off, restraints off, double time.” When Davies tried to form a protest, Stark clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a gentle push towards Steve, then stepped up to the control panel and began flipping switches.

“Steven,” Carter said gently. “Do you know where you are?”

The constant whir and click of the machines spun down to nothing even as Davies pulled the mechanical phallus out of Steve with a wet squelch.

“How did you get here?” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper. His throat was so dry.

“Yeah, hey Rogers, we’ve got to hit the road,” Stark said as he appeared at Carter’s side. “Very important SSR orders. We’ll do the chit chat later. Carter, a little help here/”

The two of them began releasing the straps from Steve’s legs as Davies fiddles with the hydraulic suction machine, tugging at various knobs and dials until Stark shoved him out of the way, muttering about amateurs.

“Private, go retrieve a uniform from Captain Rogers’ quarters,” Carter said briskly. “While you’re at it, pack up his spare uniforms and any personal effects and bring them back here.”

“He, uh… he doesn’t have quarters anymore,” Davies said. At Carter’s incredulous look, he hurried on. “He didn’t really need them, and the base has been so crowded, and--”

“Find his things and bring them here.” Carter’s voice was clipped and precise. “Or find a spare uniform, quickly. Be back here in ten minutes.”

“Yes ma’am, sir,” Davies stuttered, and hurried out of the room.

“Think he’ll squeal on us?” Stark asked as he kicked the hose from the suction machine out of his way.

“I think we shouldn’t dawdle,” Carter replied. “Steven, are you with us?”

“I’m not a captain,” Steve said, stuck on the one thing he’d picked out of the conversation.

“It’s a long story,” Carter said. “We need to get you standing.”

Once they’d removed the straps up to Steve’s waist, Steve found that his legs could barely support him, even with the rest of him still firmly held up by the remaining straps. His cock was still achingly hard and unbearably sensitive where it came into contact with his skin, making it hard to concentrate on stretching any feeling back into his extremities. His balls hung heavily between his legs, unsupported for once and throbbing with denied release. The muscles of his ass clenched against the unaccustomed emptiness as he moved, making him squirm and throwing off his balance.

When Stark released the last of the straps around Steve’s chest, Steve’s legs collapsed under him. He curled between his splayed knees, pulling frantically at his cock until a flood of semen rushed over his fingers and spattered on the floor. He stared at the small puddle, a wasted and contaminated sample now, dirtying up the freshly-scrubbed tile.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, wiping his hand ineffectually on his thigh. He hadn’t meant to do it, not in front of Carter and Stark, when there was no scientific purpose to it, even. But now the ache in his balls had eased significantly, and he could think more clearly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Stark said quickly. “Nothing we ain’t seen before. Can you get up?”

“Of course.” With a concerted effort, Steve was able to get his feet under him and lever himself upright, though he then had to brace his hands on his knees and breathe deeply, partly from the head rush that came from standing for the first time in weeks, and partly from the pain of his still-heavy balls being jostled.

“I’ve got the spare uniform you wanted sir, ma’am.” Davies came cautiously towards Carter, bearing a stack of clothes. “No personal effects, or at least I couldn’t find any.”

“Right.” Carter shook her head. “Clean up this workspace immediately. It needs to be ready for inspection before the others get here.”

“Others?” Davies’ eyes widened. “But ma’am--”

“Hop to, Private. We haven’t got all night,” Stark snapped.

Davies scurried over to the corner to retrieve a mop and bucket. While he was busy filling his bucket with water, Carter said, sotto voce, “That ought to keep him busy, but we should hurry.”

Between bracing himself on a workbench and an occasional hand from Howard, Steve managed to wrestle his way into the uniform and skivvies the kid had brought, while Carter scrawled a note on a discarded piece of paper.

“There.” She appeared at Steve’s side just as he was buttoning his shirt. “No one can say we didn’t give the proper notifications. We ready? Steven?”

Steve looked down to see the front of his pants bulging as his hard cock pressed against the fabric. He looked back up quickly, blushing. “Ready as I’m going to be.”

Carter led the way out, chin up, walking briskly. She paused to hold out the folded note to Davies. “Private, deliver this to Colonel Hanes at the end of your watch. This place had better be shipshape by that time, I mean absolutely spotless, or he’ll know the reason why. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, saluting sharply.

Carter led them through the hallways of the base with Steve leaning heavily on Stark’s arm. Through a thick steel door was a large garage with row after row of jeeps and trucks, with one shining Pontiac Torpedo with a stylized S as a hood ornament.

“Does this one fly?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, still working on that,” Stark muttered.

Carter glanced over the rest of the garage and, apparently satisfied that no one was observing them, popped open the drunk of the car.

“So the thing is,” Stark said as he helped Steve forward, “we need you to lay low on our way out of here. We don’t exactly have permission to take you with us.”

“You’re stealing me?” Steve pulled up short, making Stark stumble.

“Redistributing,” Peggy said crisply. “Mr. Stark is politely requesting a location transfer for a bit of technology he’s helping to develop. Get in the trunk.”

Steve looked from the open trunk to Peggy, to Stark, his sluggish mind trying to sort through the ramifications of going AWOL with these two.

“Best not to argue with her, I’ve found,” Stark said with a shrug.

Steve found himself smiling for the first time in recent memory, and that decided him. He wedged himself into the trunk, wincing as the cramped position put pressure on his still-hard cock and increasingly sensitive balls. Stark arranged a few small boxes to block Steve from view.

“You must be absolutely silent while we pass through the gates, understand?” Peggy said, leaning down into the trunk so she could just see him. “We’ll stop for a breather as soon as we reach a safe spot.”

“Carter, let’s go,” Stark hissed from somewhere near the front of the car.

The trunk closed, and Steve was left in darkness.

Rescue, YES!

Love that the unflappable Peggy Carter was shocked by what they've done to Steve (and quickly snapping herself out of it). And poor Steve, his balls so swollen and aching for release, having to jerk himself off in front of them and being so embarrassed about it. I'm continuing to adore this fill!

I LOVE IT! The Asset deliberately hiding his injuries to fuck with the STRIKE team is the best part of it. Bucky is still in there, resisting in any way he can!

OP: The Asset, privately, making eye contact with a bewildered, irate, and belligerently erect Rumlow while getting pushed through a door to the OR: No, fuck YOU.

Belligerently erect. That is a fabulous turn of phrase. Very evocative. Captures the mood perfectly.

Bad guys capture Steve and lock him in a magic cock cage. He can neither get off not get it off even after being rescued.

“Belligerently erect Rumlow” is a concept that I a) can imagine very easily and b) desperately need more of in my life

I also like the idea of Rumlow drawing the short straw himself and then talking/manipulating/bullying his way out of it. (Or trying to and it not working...)

ahhhhh i love this

As soon as the purring engine of the Pontiac started up, Steve knew he was in trouble. The vibrations travelled through his body, and his attention was drawn unwillingly to his tender genitals. The scientists had eliminated the vibrating feature of the mechanical phallus weeks ago, after testing determined it had no discernable impact on collection efficiency. That didn’t mean it wasn’t pleasurable.

Steve pushed his face into his shoulder to stifle a groan. It had been so long since he’d gone for more than a few minutes without coming, and he hadn’t forgotten Dr. Keller’s dire warnings about the possibility of permanent damage if his balls weren’t drained on a strict schedule.

He cupped himself through the borrowed uniform pants and nearly moaned with relief. He’d have to take care of this himself, without any mechanical intervention. Perhaps if he did enough to empty his balls, he wouldn’t need to do it again for a while, and could hold out until they got somewhere private. Though Carter had already seen him hooked up to the machines, Steve didn’t want to impose on her any further.

Moving as quickly as he could, Steve turned so that his back was to the opening of the trunk, then unbuttoned his uniform pants and wriggled around until he could shove them down along with his skivvies. Once his hand was on his bare cock, however, he stalled. All of this had become so automatic in the lab, he wasn’t certain he could do it on his own. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself back there: the flat colors under the harsh lighting; the ozone and oil smell of machinery; the stale taste of recirculated air; the pressure of the leather straps against hist skin; the gentle rocking as the mechanical phallus thrust into him, never quite leaving his body; the gentle fullness of the gag filling his mouth; the delicious friction of the machine squeezing his cock. He bit back a startled gasp as he spurted over his hand, pumping out enough spunk to run down his fingers and pool on the floor of the trunk.

Steve couldn’t see in the complete darkness of the confined space, but he could well imagine how he must look: pants around his knees, desperately jerking himself off not fifteen minutes after he’d already come. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks, shame creeping in where he hadn’t felt it so keenly in weeks, maybe months. That didn’t mean his hand wasn’t already stroking his cock again.

Steve’s hand stilled on his cock as he heard voices-- perhaps they were passing through a checkpoint? He wasn’t certain how much longer they would leave him in the trunk, so he would have to make the most of this opportunity to relieve the pressure. His cock had barely hardened at all, which shouldn’t have been surprising given the near-constant stimulation he was used to. A few slow strokes had him teetering on the edge again. The car rumbled back to life, sending stronger vibrations through Steve’s body, and he spilled into his hand again.

He lost track of how many times he brought himself to climax during the drive, but his balls still felt swollen and tender, as if he’d made no progress at all in solving his overproduction problem. No matter how efficiently he tried to come, his natural abilities were no match for the technological capabilities of the setup the SSR had devised.

At last, the car eased to a stop, and the engine fell silent. At the sound of footsteps on gravel, Steve frantically pulled his pants back up and buttoned them. He shifted, turning a bit so he could see what was happening, but hopefully still blocking the cooling puddle of semen from view, and wiped his hand hastily on his pant leg.

Then came a jangle and a creak, and Stark was squinting down at him in the pale light of the moon. “You ok, Rogers?” He wrinkled his nose. “What’s that--” His eyes widened in realization. “Oh. You need a rag or something?” he asked as he lifted the crates out of the way to let Steve clamber out.

“It’s fine,” Steve said, glad the low light hid most of his blush. “Any trouble getting us out?”

“Uh, no.” Stark gave the inside of the trunk a quick glance, then slammed it shut. “And no followers, either.”

Steve looked up and down the road, a tree-lined blacktop expanse with no buildings in sight. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so far from civilization. The crisp fall air swirled around them, carrying dry leaves in little eddies along the road and, Steve hoped, blowing away any lingering smell of sex.

“We’re headed for a private airfield 40 miles north of here,” Carter explained as she shifted some gear around in the back seat of the car. Steve’s eyes widened as he realized that would mean being confined in a car with her for an hour or more. He glanced at Stark, who looked back at him and sighed.

Then Stark clasped his hands behind his back to hide his fidgeting. “Ms. Carter, I’m starting to think you shouldn’t come along.”

“The hell I won’t.” She whirled on Stark, hands on her hips. “Were you planning to leave me on the side of the road here?”

“It’s not like that,” Stark muttered. “I just don’t want to trip to get uncomfortable.”

“Am I taking up too much room in your vehicle?” The venom in her voice made Steve flinch, and he knew he couldn’t let Howard take all the blame for what he was trying to do.

“Agent Carter… It’s my fault,” Steve said, and faced the full force of her suspicious glare. “I’m… That is, I’ve…” He clenched his fists at his side to keep himself from reaching again for his dick, now aching in the too-tight confines of his pants.

“Listen.” Stark stepped closer to Carter, lowering his voice. “They’ve been pumping him full of experimental drugs for weeks now, and they’ve got him on a strict schedule. To make sure he doesn’t hurt himself, he may have to, uh, produce some samples during the trip.”

“Oh.” Carter’s glare subsided into a thoughtful silence. “I see. Well, it’s no worse that what I’ve seen before. My sensibilities are not offended.” Then she looked at Steve. “Though, Captain Rogers, if you’d rather have the privacy--”

“It’s fine, Agent Carter.” It wasn’t fine, of course, but Steve didn’t see an alternative. They certainly couldn’t leave her here alone in the middle of nowhere. And she was right, after all. She and Stark had seen him in the lab more than once, naked and trussed up like a Christmas goose, so a little discreet relief shouldn’t be too much of a violation of Carter’s dignity. “It won’t be a problem.”

“Suit yourself.” Carter wrenched open the door of the car and gestured inside. “We had best get moving.”

“Faster,” Bucky ordered, dodging Steve’s imbalanced punch at his side. “Faster!”

Steve sidestepped and tried to hit him with the Shield again, staggering slightly. His suit was drenched in sweat. They’d been at it for hours, going round and round in circles, each one trying to gain the upper hand in a play fight.

In the beginning, Steve had pulled his punches, expecting his partner to be slow and vulnerable with his recent injuries and the emotional trauma of the assault. Bucky taught him a better one. He didn’t seem to mind a little forceful touching. In fact, he welcomed it, reveling in the close proximity of Steve’s body and the intimate touches that came with sparring.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Come on, I know you can do better,” he sighed and countered effortlessly, kicking Steve in the chin. He hadn’t bothered with a suit, going for a light T-shirt and loose fitting jeans instead. “You’re already stronger than him but you gotta be both.”

No, Bucky loved a challenge, thrived on it, compensating for his missing arm with agility like it was an advantage he had over Steve instead of a handicap. Maybe it was. He was harder to catch, rarely distracted and not giving an inch. Steve learned his lesson quickly: Holding his own and coddling his boyfriend at the same time wasn’t working

While Bucky had gone through a terrible ordeal at Hydra’s hands, he still benefitted from the intense focus and concentration of the Winter Soldier, his unbound strength and tactical thinking. The disturbingly high pain endurance handelnd the rest. Steve, in his naivety, was letting Bucky wipe the floor with him.

“You’re not making this easy,” Steve grunted.

“Nope.”

Bucky tackled him, barefoot, kicking Steve’s stupidly exposed legs out from under him as he went. It worked like a charm. Steve tended to forget about his own cover when he had the shield, concerned with the offense rather than his defense, hard-hitting and always with an element of surprise. Typical for him. He tried to win every fight by giving his all without a proper exit strategy - which was usually where Bucky came in.

This time, Steve got lucky. He instinctively grabbed Bucky’s ankle as he fell to the ground and held on, taking his boyfriend down with the momentum. They landed on the sun-burned grass together in a tangle of limbs, breathing heavily.

“The damn shield is a weakness when it comes to hand to hand. You know that right?” Bucky panted, hair fanned out around his face like a halo.

“I know,” Steve groaned, holding his ribs where Bucky’s right knee had landed. “So you keep keep telling me.”

He stayed down where he was, chest heaving with exhaustion. “But I don’t wanna miss out on the satisfaction of smashing Ward’s face in with it.”

Bucky snorted sarcastically. “For that you’d have to beat him first.”

Steve rolled over onto his side and into a sitting position. He smudged the dirt on his face with the back of his hand which... Made him look strangely attractive. Bucky decidedly didn’t stare.

Steve pushed to his feet, extending one hand generously, like he wasn’t such a sore loser. “I think it’s time we took a break, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re tapping out already? Lazy ass...” Bucky grumbled but he took Steve’s hand gladly and let himself be pulled upright.

As he went inside, Steve murmured something that sounded suspiciously like ‘thank fucking God’ thrown in with something even more blasphemous along the lines.

“Hey!”

Steve ignored Bucky and patted his sweaty face with a fluffy white towel, inhaling its fresh soapy scent like it was an oxygen mask.

“Stop taking the Lord’s name in vain,” Bucky scolded, smacking the back of his big head slightly, as he followed him inside. “What would your mother say?”

Steve gave him the finger.

In truth, neither one of them could really speculate what Sarah Rogers would have thought about their behavior, especially about the cohabitating and questionable sexual practices under their roof. She never found out about the nature of their relationship, taken before her time by an illness she was exposed to at the hospital, but Bucky hoped she might have understood it somehow once she learned about it from the afterlife.

There was more space in the hut now with the tub back outside where it was supposed to be and the new table Steve had built after demolishing the old one in a fit of rage, or guilt, or whatever Steve had been feeling at the time. It was about half the size, just big enough for two.

Bucky couldn’t handle guests right now anyways. The few children who were still aloud to come over unsupervised (like T’Waki, Arih and Tamia) waited outside the hut politely when they came to play with him. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement between Bucky and the kids. Maybe they were scared of his home now with everything that had happened there or maybe having them here brought back too many memories for Bucky. Steve didn’t ask him about it. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to complain about the new privacy. Not at all. He just wished it had come under different circumstances.

Relieved about the break, Steve unzipped his tight combat outfit at the back and freed his sweat-drenched body out of its cevlar prison. He let the suit fall to the floor and stepped out of the pant legs at his feet, completely naked.

Bucky watched him from a distance as a drop of sweat made its way down his lover’s back slowly. He had the sudden urge to lick the salt from his skin.

“Underwear is mission imperative you know?” Bucky heard himself utter, throat strangely dry.

“It’s too hot outside for that,” Steve retorted and turned around.

Bucky’s eyes widened. He felt himself blush and straightened his back, watching his partner’s intimate area in appreciation. Steve’s cock had filled out significantly during their little exercise, standing at half mast. It wasn’t unusual for him to get excited in combat situations, all those pent-up hormones and adrenaline.

It was different for Bucky. He still had the serum enhanced libido but had painstakingly trained himself not to get hard. Not visibly at least. It had never ended well for him during his time in captivity.

Steve watched him nervously, scanning Bucky’s face like the cover of a book. Suddenly, he turned away and covered himself with his towel, looking apologetic. “Sorry, I’m gonna go change real—”

“Don’t!” Bucky squeaked, maybe a little too high and forceful to keep his dignity.

Steve froze and turned back towards him deliberately. Without taking his eyes off of Bucky, he placed the towel on the counter and cocked an eyebrow, watching the hungry look in his boyfriend’s eyes. He swallowed hard. “You really want to?”

Bucky licked his lips, arousal and nerves fighting for the upper hand. “Yes,” he said.

Steve looked conflicted. He didn’t move from his spot yet, waiting still, sizing Bucky up and searching his face. “Are you sure?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Bucky stepped closer, close enough to touch if he just reached out. “I’m sure.”

His hand found Steve’s. Summoning all his courage, he looked deeply into his partner’s eyes. “Kiss me.”

Steve’s nervous expression changed into something softer. He smiled warmly and reached out. With one hand on Bucky’s good shoulder, he bridged the distance and kissed Bucky full on the lips, first chaste then with more confidence when he didn’t flinch or pull away.

“Like this?” he asked, alternating between real, hungry kisses and soft affectionate presses to Bucky’s lips, and nose, and cheeks.

Bucky sighed and bit Steve’s lips in warning, returning the kiss heatedly. “More. Don’t overthink it.”

Steve oblidged. He kissed Bucky with everything he got and walked them backwards slowly, presumably angling to get them to lay down on their makeshift bed to the right. He never stopped touching Bucky and sucking on his tongue, moaning like a drowning man. It had been a while and although Steve was clearly holding back, his desire was imminent.

Bucky let himself be moved until unexpectedly, the edge of something hard dug into his spine. Cold and relentless. Too familiar.

His breathing stopped.

“Wait,” Bucky said panicked, pushing at Steve and keeping him at a safe distance with one hand against his chest. “Don’t...”

Steve froze immediately and took a careful step back, showing his palms in surrender. “What? Did I do something?”

“No. Just... Not on the table, alright?” Bucky whispered, feeling silly for getting hung up on such a thing.

Steve’s face fell. He nodded, expression pained, and reached out tentatively. He took Bucky’s face in his right hand with a gentleless fit for cracked porcelain and caressed his lover’s cheek reverently with his thumb.

“Of course not. We’ll do whatever you want, Buck. Nothing else. You’re in complete control here.”

It was weird. Bucky knew that Steve would never pressure him into anything he didn’t want to do, at least not in the bedroom (their professional relationship was more complicated than that), but he felt strangely relieved at his words nonetheless. Steve wasn’t like Ward and the others. He’d never hurt him like that. Now, Bucky’s body needed to accept that, too, and get with the program.

He breathed in deeply and hugged Steve close, chest to chest, feeling the familiar warmth of his skin until the misplaced fear and anxiety went away.

Bucky gave his partner a loop-sided smile and rolled his eyes. “Moment’s over, Stevie,” he retorted shakily. “Don’t kill the mood. Take me to bed already.”

Steve shook his head fondly and did just that. He picked Bucky up without hesitation, going slowly but touching him with a firm grip, certain that he could take his weight. Steve’s strong arms supported his boyfriend’s muscular thighs as he lifted him in the air.

With Bucky’s legs still covered by the rough fabric of his jeans and wrapped around Steve’s body, Steve strode to the other side of the room and lowered Bucky down on the soft blankets, careful not to drop him.

Bucky turned his head and looked at the rumpled bedding. The fabric was a washed-out green color now, like the grass outside. They had thrown the old ones with the dirty footprints, and the blood, and the bad memories out as fast as they could.

Steve joined him on the floor. “How do you want—”

“You want it wet or dry?” Ward’s heinous voice whispered in his head. An echo of the same damned question they had made him answer like it was all Bucky’s choice before they— Before they...

“...Bucky? Are you alright?”

Out of reflex, Bucky placed his hand over Steve’s mouth and shook his head vehemently. The other man searched his eyes, brows drawn together. Then he nodded, understanding and horror dawning on his face.

“Sorry, I’m—” Bucky took his hand away at once and shrugged his shoulders apologetically. “Just don’t say it like that, ok? I want you inside me. I’d like that,” he said with a slightly desperate edge to it, “it’s ok if you don’t though. I’d understand it if you’d never—”

Steve, bless his heart, didn’t let him finish. Instead, he pulled Bucky closer and shut him up with a passionate kiss, laying everything he couldn’t say into the intimate press of his lips.

“I want you. I’ll always want you. You know that.”

“Good,” Bucky murmured, suddenly teary eyed, his voice sounding a little higher than normal and rougher, too. “That’s good. Will you get the slick for me?”

Steve kissed him one last time and went to find their hidden bottle of lube in a cupboard by the sink.

Bucky wiped his eyes, thankful for the short interruption to gather his thoughts. He removed his shirt and jeans which were probably ruined with grass stains by now unceremoniously, feeling self-conscious in his own skin. It was still hot outside but Bucky felt cold in his nakedness without Steve there to distract him, goosebumps rising on his skin.

His mind began to wander. Staring up at the ceiling he thought about everything that could go wrong.

What if he panicked again? What if Steve looked at him down there and saw the scars? What if he was disgusted with them? What if he couldn’t get it up anymore? What if penetration still hurt too much to keep going? Could he keep that from Steve?

The answer was yes, Bucky could take a lot of pain. He was certain of that. It was a proven fact after all he went through but when he thought about the way it had hurt when Ward had spread his fingers, too many and too fast...

“Ready?” Steve sat down on the mattress bedside him. He settled under the blankets and flicked off the cap of the half-empyy bottle of lube in his hand, the one they had frequently used before all of this, watching Bucky’s face like a test.

“Yes,” Bucky said again, still wanting to do it but feeling a hell of a lot less sure than he let on.

Edited 2019-01-16 13:09 (UTC)

Steve kissed him again. Then he hesitated, biting his own lip.

“Bucky, are you sure you're healed enough yet? I mean... You're not gonna bleed if we do this, are you?”

Bucky closed his eyes briefly and refused to think about his wounds and how bad it had looked at first. All torn-up and bloody, painful fissures around his abused hole which refused to close on its own... Steve didn’t need to know the gory details.

“I don't know,” Bucky replied honestly. “We're not gonna find out if you keep acting like a virgin. I've shit showered and shaved down there several times this week. We should be fine.”

Steve frowned mock-disapprovingly, catching up on Bucky’s attempt to infuse an awkward situation with humor and cover for his own insecurity about it. “You couldn’t have put that a little more... I don’t know, Buck. Inviting maybe?” Steve quipped. “Sometimes it’s best to leave a little to the imagination.”

“What, too crass for you?” Bucky reached for Steve’s cock and squeezed, laughing at his startled moan. “Don't lie to me. You're still hard.”

“Fine you got me,” Steve said with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m always up for it.”

“That’s right.” Bucky snorted, then he looked at him more seriously. “All I know is, I'm done letting Hydra dictate my sex life. I want you and I don't care about a little blood.”

Steve smiled. “Then I don't either. Just tell me when it’s too much, ok? We can stop at any time.”

Bucky agreed. “Let's do this.”

Steve took it as a challenge. He spent the better part of an hour worshiping Bucky’s body with his fingers and his mouth, licking and sucking at his filling cock to amp-up his arousal before he got even close to his boyfriend’s hole. Getting hard didn’t turn out to be a problem.

Finally, when Bucky was about ready to blow, Steve squeezed his thighs and spread his legs.

“Breath, Buck,” Steve said, monitoring him for any signs that would tell him to back off in case it got too much.

When Bucky didn’t tell him to stop or tense any more than had to be expected, all things considered, breathing through the nervous flutter in his belly that warned him some sort of bomb might go off, Steve shifted his gaze and looked at the damage there.

Discovering the scars, faintly white and pink around Bucky’s entrace in the shape of fractured lightning put a dent in things for a while.

Steve stopped all of his attempts at seduction and just looked at the new skin which had grown over the tearing Ward and his men had caused so carelessly. Their cruel sadism only reassured Steve of the righteousness of his plan to kill them all without remorse as soon as he got the chance. They had it coming. Steve had seen the blood. He remembered it.

How Bucky had managed the initial pain without a doctor despite of his injuries was beyond him. The tearing looked like it must have been in a desperate need for stiches and Steve wondered if Bucky had taken care of it himself somehow when he wasn’t looking. He didn’t dare to ask about it, afraid what Bucky’s answer might be. It couldn’t have been more than a field job anyways, with a regular needle and a thread.

Thankfully, the serum wasn’t too picky about hygiene and finesse in the way it worked. It had mended everything back together in the best possible way, and Steve saw the work of it with equal parts of love and grief.

“I wonder if you're ever gonna look at me without thinking about it,” Bucky said in a hushed tone. He wouldn’t meet Steve’s eyes, gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Steve bowed down and kissed him there briefly, lips brushing over the sensitive new tissue. Bucky jumped a bit at the initial contact before he remembered to relax. It didn’t hurt. Not physically at least.

“I don't know but when I do think about it, it's about how strong you are, how brave and how I'll never let anyone hurt you like that again. Ever.”

Bucky shivered. He felt strangely vulnerable like this, all laid out and broken open on an emotional level. It remembered him of the first time Steve had made love to him, the way he would ‘to a woman’ as they called it back then, in their little apartment in Brooklyn...

Bucky had been giddy all day, unable to sit still at work, thinking about their grand plans for the evening. Some guys at the docks had told him that it hurt. A lot. Even with the vaseline. Maybe Bucky was a pervert but he was certain that he’d still enjoy it as long as Steve was the one doing the hurting.

When he was finally home, lying naked in Steve’s skinny arms, he was a little tense after all, overwhelmed by this feeling of weightlessness, and trust, and a little bit of shame when Steve put his hands where he knew he was clean but still...

Bucky’s ass grabbed onto Steve’s delicate artist fingers so hard he thought he might never me able to let go again. He felt so small under the other man’s gaze who seemed to know exactly where to touch and how to press to make Bucky come apart at the seems. It was terrifying.

“Hey, Stevie? Don't hurt me,” he said without thinking.

“What?”

“Just... Don't hurt me,” Bucky whispered.

Steve chuckled lowly. “It's only gonna hurt if you don't start relaxing,” he quipped. His words had no bite.

He patted Bucky’s thigh reassuringly, unconcerned with the effect every twitch of his fingers had, seeming amused rather than irritated by the over-excited jump of Bucky’s cock and his nervous clenching.

People never guessed it but between the two of them Steve was the more experienced one. He knew what he was talking about. Bucky hadn't gone beyond second base with anyone - girls or boys. He didn't want to when the people who threw themselves at him never quite looked like a certain blonde boy he’d been in love with since middle school.

Steve didn't have the same reservations with men that he had with women. Good girls went to church on Sunday and got married young, boys fooled around a bit first. They didn't call it love. They didn't call it anything. It wasn’t like that.

“I mean, my heart, ok? I couldn’t stand it.”

“Bucky, I'd never,” Steve assured him, laying a hand over his own chest like he was swearing on the Bible. “Never. You’re my best friend in the whole world.”

After that, Bucky kissed him like it was the last time he’d get the chance. When Steve kissed back, he let go of his fears and relaxed, enjoying the most wonderful experience he’d ever had in his young life. Steve felt wonderful inside of him and he craved the intimate connection of two bodies joined together in ecstasy. It made him want to do it again and again...

“I should have been here for you,” future Steve murmured, cutting Bucky’s reminiscing short. His voice wavered with emotion, looking back and forth betwen Bucky’s scars and his face.

Bucky shook his head, unwilling to have another discussion on the matter while Steve fondled his ass. Thankfully, Steve seemed to get his meaning without further words.

“OK. I’m sorry... Moving on. Sorry. Does this hurt?” Steve asked before he gently swiped over his hole with the pad of his thumb.

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath. Finally, he looked away from the ceiling and down to his partner. “No. It’s just... A little tender. Don’t worry about it.”

Steve caught his eyes again. “I’m gonna do something,” he announced lowly, almost a whisper, “if you don’t like it or it feels wrong you tell me, ok?”

“OK,” Bucky confirmed.

Steve bowed his head, disappearing between Bucky’s spread legs where he was so intimately on display and licked over his hole in a broad swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck!” Bucky cursed, arching off the mattress. Yes, the tender skin was delicate but sensitive enough that the soft touch of Steve’s tongue felt like he was lighting something up inside in him. In a good way this time - not like the sharp bite of the stun baton.

Steve picked up his head. “That a no? Talk to me.” Judging by the smirk on his face he wasn’t really concerned about the verdict, reading Bucky’s body like an open book.

Ward and the others would never have done something like this for him. It had been brutal and animalistic, full of pain and dominance instead of tender love and care. If Steve wanted to show him how different he was, how good he could be for Bucky, he was doing a perfect job.

“Bastard,” Bucky sighed shakily. “You know damn well it isn’t.”

Steve grinned wolfishly and dove back in.

It went smoothly for a while. Bucky got really close to coming just from a little rimming and Steve’s thoroughly lubed finger in his hole but when Steve tried to use more, attempting to insert a second finger along the first, Bucky tensed up terribly. He wasn’t sure if it was purely physical or a psychological side effect of the trauma but there was no give. None at all. No way Steve was gonna fit his dick in there without blunt force and reopening most of Bucky’s injuries. He was a little bigger than three at least.

Bucky was going to stop him and apologize for offering something he couldn’t follow through but it seemed as if Steve had already given up on the prospect. He’d gone back to one finger unprompted. Penetrative sex was out of the question.

“It’s alright,” Steve said and kissed the inside of Bucky’s upper thigh while his finger stroked over his prostate again, gently. The feeling was still a little dull, possibly muted by internal scaring as well. “We’ve got time. It’s only been a little over a week. Don’t stress about it.”

Bucky tried not to wallow in his own disappointment. “I just... I don’t want them to be the last people with their dicks inside of me, you know? I want you.”

Steve nodded understandingly, then he frowned. “But I am inside of you. Right now.”

“Not with your dick.”

Steve winked. “Only metaphorically...”

“What?” Bucky asked and laughed shakily. “What does that even mean?”

Steve looked at him with a bad pokerface, like he was dead-set on convincing Bucky how serious he took the issue. “My feelings. My metaphorical dick, Buck. Didn’t they teach you anything but skirt chasing?”

Bucky shoved his face away, laughing enough to dislodge Steve’s finger. “God, I’m glad you’re stupid.”

“Well,” Steve grinned. “I’m only stupid for you.”

Edited 2019-01-16 13:18 (UTC)

They talked about it afterwards, lying safely in each other’s arms.

“They made you ask for it didn’t they?”

Bucky blew out a breath and pulled the blanket all the way up to his chin. “Yeah. They did. I really... I made a real show out of it, you know? I was hoping they would— do it outside if I was good enough. Somewhere the children wouldn’t see.”

“But they didn’t?” Steve supplied, eyes filled with hurt.

Bucky huffed darkly. “I begged them for it. No one would listen.”

“I’m sorry, Buck—”

“Not your fault,” Bucky cut him off.

“Maybe not. But still...”

“It wasn’t easy, you know?” Bucky went on undeterred. “Not that there’s anything easy about it but... With the children there— They were screaming and crying. It was tough. And Ward told me to make them stop or else...”

“How did you?”

“I played a game with them when it happened. The quiet game. Do you remember it?”

Steve frowned. “The one your mother always wanted us to play when she put Becca to bed? To shut us up?”

“That’s the one.”

“Yeah, I remember it. Wait... Is that what— What’s her name again? Shia?”

“Shila,” Bucky corrected automatically, used to his role as the mediator between Steve and the Wakandan people.

“Is that what she meant?”

“Yes,” Bucky sighed and them there was an awkward pause with neither of them knowing how to fill the silence.

“Arih told her. Ward wanted me to keep them quiet because it... You know, distracted them, and I remembered the game,” Bucky continued eventually. “I taught it to them so we could go to the king’s inauguration together and then we kept playing it sometimes so they wouldn’t interefere with my memory exercises. Shuri wanted me to try them at home.”

“Did it work?”

“The memory exercises?” Bucky asked evasively, already expecting a different answer.

“The game. You know what I mean, Buck. You don’t have to tell me about any of that if you don’t want to. I just want you to know that you can.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind telling you. It’s just— I think I won. They uhm... The kids always do as I do, right? Which is good because... I didn’t scream a lot. They gagged me after the first guy.”

Steve inhaled sharply and looked away.

“Was it worth it?” he asked after a while. “Not fighting back?”

Bucky shot him a dirty look.

Steve raised his hands in surrender. “I don’t wanna pick a fight, I swear. I just wanna know how you feel about it. Honestly.”

“Why?”

“I care about you. That’s why.”

Bucky’s expression softened. He fiddled with the edges of his pillow, lost in thought.

“I mean... Worth their lives certainly but...” he trailed off. “I don’t know.”

“Do you regret it?”

Bucky looked at him gravely. “They could have shot me between the eyes instead but I'm still here, aren't I?”

It was clear from the self-depricating twist of his mouth that it didn't feel like a triumph. “I wasn’t gonna leave you behind after everything you did just to get me back.”

Steve took Bucky’s hand in his, holding on tightly.

“Then I’m glad you survived. I know it’s horrible that you had to go through all of that to do it but... I just want you to know, I’m glad. That you’re still here with me.”

He pressed a tender kiss to the back of his lover’s hand.

“Me, too,” Bucky said, starting to feel less and less like a liar. “Me, too.”

Edited 2019-01-16 13:10 (UTC)

I'm living for Steve's shame at having to masturbate in front of Peggy...

This story keeps getting better! Loving the aftermath!

Also, this:

“My feelings. My metaphorical dick, Buck. Didn’t they teach you anything but skirt chasing?”

Made me laugh out loud. Loving their banter!

Here's a prompt from the HTP Discord server!

Let's say the Winter Soldier was sent out on a lot of honeypot missions. Post-CATWS, with Steve or another partner, nobody realizes that Bucky still has a trigger remaining for “kill them when they orgasm” until things Get Ugly with Bucky's current lover. They're fucking, the lover comes, and suddenly it's Choke Time!!!!
+ If Steve/current lover finds Bucky's murderface/choking kinda hot, resulting in shameboners and maybe miserable self-loathing jerk-off sessions remembering the attack
++ The solution to the problem? They can only fuck if Bucky is immobilized in bondage, at least until they extinguish the trigger
+++ Bucky frantically trying to escape his bondage after consensual sex because part of him thinks he has to complete his mission, panicking because that part of him thinks he's going to be punished by his handlers
++++ Bucky coming was never part of the protocol, so Bucky hasn't come in Years and isn't used to the idea that his pleasure is anything but an incidental side-effect of some missions - and isn't used to coming at all. How does he react to orgasms now?

If you wanna go cracky with it it and say that Bucky's orgasm derails the protocol and have it play out as "It’s a race against time! Get him off before he offs you!" then go for it!

I love this XD I'd love to see someone fill this!!

“Whatever you need to feel safe, Buck,” Steve had promised, his voice all honey-soft and gentle. So Bucky tells him.

Just keeping the lights off isn’t enough. There’s too much of a chance that the light from the window, or Steve’s enhanced eyesight, mean that he could still see Bucky.

He’d suggested Steve fuck him from behind, with Bucky on his knees so that he can hide his face in the pillow, but it turns out that position won’t work for him for reasons he prefers not to dwell on. He might have tried to hide the terror, but apparently he’s not quick enough—right away, Steve notices how tense this position makes him, the way he flinches when Steve touches him, and vetoes it indefinitely.

Which all adds up to him having very little choice other than to bring up the thing he specifically was trying to avoid asking for. He knows how weird it is, knows it will probably make Steve get all tense and quiet the way he always does when Bucky mentions anything that makes it impossible for him to avoid thinking about the more horrible aspects of his time with HYDRA. He tries not to bring up anything that will make Steve do that.

But there’s no way to do it other than to be straightforward, so he tells Steve he’s gonna need a bag over his head or something to hide his face.

Steve doesn’t ask any questions. Maybe it’s obvious why he needs it. Maybe he secretly appreciates Bucky asking for it so he doesn’t have to.

Of course, being Steve, he won’t just grab a pillowcase from the closet or a paper bag from the kitchen and shove it over Bucky’s head, even though Bucky would honestly be fine with that (at least it’s not a trash bag, or dirty underwear, or any of the other things he’s had his face ground into by HYDRA). Instead, Steve goes off and does a bunch of research and finds some company that custom-makes sex masks. Bucky doesn’t want to ask exactly what it costs, since the process involves taking about two million minute measurements of Bucky’s face and he figures that’s probably a sign that the whole thing is gonna be fairly pricey. He knows that wouldn’t change Steve’s mind, anyway.

The thing, when it arrives, reminds Bucky of nothing so much as the muzzle he used to wear when he was out on missions. It’s black leather, delicately curved and sturdily made. There is a comfortably molded piece that sits over his nose, with holes so he can breathe easily, and two zippers over the mouth and the eyes.

“This way… I don’t know, I wasn’t sure what you’re comfortable with, if this is about being restrained for you, not being able to see or speak, but if you want, you can have the mask on and still we’ll be able to talk, or you can see me, or we can kiss, if you’re okay with that…” Steve trails off, like he’s kind of embarrassed, which Bucky finds enchanting because Steve isn’t the one about to try on his custom-ordered sex mask and thus should probably not feel that he’s the one with anything to be embarrassed about.

“We can try with them open,” Bucky concedes. You never know, that might end up being okay, and he knows Steve would be happy about it. And obviously he wants Steve to be happy, that’s the whole point of the exercise.

It’s put a lot of strain on Steve, this whole thing where Bucky is convinced that he’s disgusting. Steve wants to try to fix it with words and gentle touches and sweet kisses, wants to tell Bucky a thousand times how gorgeous he is and how much Steve wants him, and Bucky wants to let him do that but it makes his stomach churn bilious and red-hot and his jaw clench like a fist and he just can’t even stand to hear it.

He’d sort of thought Steve would give up around the first time that Bucky told him to get lost, that he wasn’t worth it, that if Steve didn’t have the balls to call it off and admit that Bucky was too far gone to be worth saving and no one would ever want him like that again, Bucky would do it for him.

Instead, Steve had shrugged (shrugged!) and said that sex didn’t matter that much to him, as long as Bucky was back and safe, but any time Bucky wanted to give it a shot, he just had to let Steve know what would work for him.

And so, through a long series of trials (Steve’s) and errors (Bucky’s), they’d arrived at the mask.

Bucky lets Steve strip him first, since this part doesn’t usually freak him out too badly, though touching has to be kept to a minimum. Only then does Steve fix the mask over Bucky’s face.

Bucky relaxes almost immediately, because he’s safe under here. He can make whatever faces he wants and Steve won’t see how fucked up and ugly he is, won’t be disgusted and have the fun ruined for him. And Bucky can relax, and imagine.

As Steve starts to kiss his way down Bucky’s body, as he carefully rims him open, Bucky closes his eyes under the mask and remembers cruel, cold hands tearing him open, and the laughs of disgust, and the spit and piss splashing on him.

It’s over, he reminds himself. He’s with Steve now. He’s safe and hidden and Steve wants this, wants Bucky like this, disgusting as he is.

Bucky has to give it to him. He forces himself to relax, his face invisible, his body ready to serve its purpose.

“And so, through a long series of trials (Steve’s) and errors (Bucky’s), they’d arrived at the mask.”

This is beautifully written! It hurts and soothes my heart at the same time! Glad the mask works.

That ending is so bittersweet. Things come bleeding through, don't they.

i love how steve has been conditioned to come only under the circumstances of the lab environment... and the possible ramifications of that when he's with peggy... who has an awfully close resemblance to nurse rathjen...

Extremely late but Bucky being revictimized and blaming himself is my kink so thank you so much for this. I love how it focused on his despair and his absolute sense of being 100% over everything. Poor Bucky :/

The experiment is a sucess. He more vicious and effective than ever before. His reaction time and reflexes unparalleled. With the asset programmed this way his own body is churning out record amounts of testosterone and he is nearly unstoppable. 'It won't stop. It won't go away.' He thinks in trance like state of mind. He knows now no matter what the rage transformed into lust will never end.

He holds the pillow down pumping his hips ferociously, his pace nearly inhuman. His skin is irritated all over his glans and corona. The skin is red from the almost non stop friction. He is grunting in a voice like a growl but no words come out. They stay inside now and he gets in less trouble because of it.

'This is the eighth time today. It feels so awful... so good... so wrong... so right. What am I to do with this? How is this to be utilized in combat? All it does is make me... Oh, god uuunff~! It makes me a fire that can't be put out.' He shudders from head to toe as he cums again, fluid spilling out onto the already soaked pillow.

He throws himself back on to the mattress and not five minutes later he is desperately hard again. Panting he thinks about what to do and the answer is easy. Do 'it'. Do it again and again and again.

As big as he is with 40% more muscle definition now he remains flexible and skilled in acrobatics. He assumes halasana, easily achieving a shoulderstand and raising both legs above his head planting his feet on the wall at the head of his stiff now too small bed. He uses them for leverage and begins fucking his own mouth, gagging and choking on the head of his own dick. His shaft stretches his lips wide almost painfully so.

'So I think this is how it will befrom now on. I will fight kill and obey then when I'm alone I'll burn. In every position possible untill this fire goes out.' He thinks. 'I wonder if I am infringing on a command by doing this? Do I really care?'

The asset's smokey turquoise eyes smolder at no one as he takes his cock fucking as hard as physics will allow him to. Tears leak from his eyes and he growls into the meat of himself. He bites as it drags in and out of his mouth, his teeth delivering in a way his lips and tongue can not. Accumulated saliva pours out of the corners of his mouth like a slobbering dog. He imagines seeing himself and he thinks dazedly 'Yes, like dog. Fucking like an animal. Pushing my penis deep inside as if hiding something, a secret sticks fast where they can't find it.'

Then he is cumming again. True to his condition peramiters, he likes it. The flavor, the texture, the idea of how it comes into being all delicious concepts he is allowed to know so he doesn't sicken when STRIKE runs a train on his mouth. Him confusedly puking up pints of the stuff on the last guy was only funny to them for a while. They had a game to see how much semen he could swallow before it came back out. It was well and good until the idiots realized they were training his body to reject it so soon the appearance of any milky or clear substances caused him to vomit violently instantly. So they fixed his programing and now he can never have enough cum.

He is still sucking hard on the head of his own dick when the door to the room he is kept in for resting before and after a mission swings open. He doesn't even stop when he hears Rumlow saying "Welp, looks like there really were indeed some behavioural side effects." with a nasty laugh.

The asset only halts because he needs to catch his breath which speaks about how vigorously he had been working to cum again.

But it's not just orgasm he hungers for. It's everything and anything. He wishes to be fucked until he prolapses. Strapped down for a five hour urethral sounding. Fed the ejaculate of every Hydra member in the compound, all 2500 of them. Have his nipples clamped hard enough and long enough to cause deep bruising. Smothered in the soft cold bodies of the female agents and crushed under the hard hot bodies of the males. He would recieve everything from every other gender possibility, whatever they individually can give to feed the flames.

(AA) I'm glad you liked it! Poor Bucky, indeed. Thanks for the comment!

Oh yes, I am so here for auto-fellatio!

While it's not an exact match, I wrote my first fic a while back and it was about Bucky's time in his shitty apartment masturbating. Please accept this offering of stale biscuits wet with garbage soup from the bottom of the dumpster:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12021462

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Page 57 of 68

Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

Fill: Good to the Last Drop (9/?)

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Re: STRIKE-on-STRIKE Dubcon Gangbang, Drawing Straws

Re: STRIKE-on-STRIKE Dubcon Gangbang, Drawing Straws

Re: STRIKE-on-STRIKE Dubcon Gangbang, Drawing Straws

Steve Rogers, cock cage

Re: STRIKE-on-STRIKE Dubcon Gangbang, Drawing Straws

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Good to the Last Drop (10/?)

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WS trained to kill marks after seducing them

Re: Rape as Maintenance, reluctant Hydra goon x WS

fill 4/4

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Re: Fill: Just Like He Was Meant To Be

Fill Depending On One's Position... (1/?)

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Re: Sad masturbating in the sad Romanian apartment, with bonus sad notebooking