Work Text:
Barnes walks into the room. In the middle is Rogers, trussed up according to his specifications.
His men have removed most of Rogers’ clothing, but left his undershirt and briefs. Barnes, himself, is dressed in regular workout gear. His men had been concerned about his lack of protection, should Rogers somehow break free. Barnes told them that he’d rather be comfortable than have his cock squeezed behind layers of unforgiving tactical gear.
Besides, he secretly knows that he deserves a kick to the nuts for what he’s about to do. It seems unjust not to allow Rogers that possibility.
Rogers turns to him as he enters. He’s blindfolded with a real leather blindfold, completely cutting off his sight, but Barnes’ men hadn’t put in earplugs. They also hadn’t gagged him. Given the Noble One’s penchant for clenching his jaw in Righteous Indignation, Barnes doesn’t blame them. They’re only poor henchmen, after all. He’d be a bad boss if he let them take unnecessary, finger-endangering risks.
“This is a little unorthodox, even for you,” Rogers says. He actually seems to relax when he realizes that Barnes is his captor. It’s incredibly insulting.
“We all like to get a little creative at times, don’t we?” Barnes replies.
“At least it’s more comfortable than the usual chained-to-a-wall nonsense,” Rogers says.
“I’m a fan of the classics,” Barnes says, “but sometimes a man just needs to express his vision. You cooperate so perfectly, what with your weekly attacks on my base. It’s almost like you want to share artistic credit.”
“That usually depends on me knowing what I’m creating” Rogers says. “Maybe you could remove this blindfold and I’d help you out.”
“I think you misunderstand a crucial part,” Barnes says. He’s standing right next to Rogers by now. “You’re not the artist. You’re the sculpture.”
He grabs Rogers’ crotch with that last sentence, adding just enough pressure to get a nice grip. Rogers jolts hard at the touch, but Barnes’ hold is steady.
“What-,” Rogers says, “What are you doing?”
Barnes rubs Rogers’ junk with confident strokes. The goody two shoes is already getting hard, and a blush has spread from under the blindfold.
“Like I said,” Barnes replies, “I’m creating a masterpiece. I’m going to take this block of pristine Americana and chip away at it until I achieve my goal.”
He continues rubbing. There’s already a wet patch on the front of Rogers’ cute little briefs.
“I have very good informants, Captain,” he says. “They give me copies of your medical records, stating you can go for twelve rounds without breaking. They follow you to your home, send me pictures of you filling your greedy hole with whatever you can get your hands on. They go undercover at clubs, watch you leave with the first meathead who looks at your ass. They break in and send me disgustingly cheap handcuffs, used to hold you in place without really knowing what you were.”
He stops and takes a breath.
“I will break you,” he says.
Rogers cums.
Barnes looks down at the rapidly-growing cum stain, surprised by how fast that was. He recovers quickly enough to hide it.
“Well, someone’s eager,” he says. Rogers looks like he’s trying to make an excuse, but Barnes won’t allow that. He pull out his favorite knife and slices through Rogers’ briefs, using the ruined fabric to wipe away the cum.
Rogers has a nice-sized cock. Bit of a shame for someone who appears not to use it much. He’s clearly trying to hide it from view, but Barnes’ men knew what they were doing with the thigh restraints.
“Oh, don’t get shy on me now,” Barnes says.
“Call me old-fashioned,” Rogers says, “but I just don’t relish the thought of putting on a peep show for you and fifty of your closest associates.”
Barnes frowns at that.
“You think I would let some underling watch me take you apart?” he says. “No, I took out all recording equipment in here. It’s just you and me, pal.”
Rogers looks relieved. It’s enough to spur Barnes back into action.
He follows Rogers’ happy trail right up to the edge of his T-shirt. His goal is the blindfold. He wants to see Rogers’ baby blues while he’s torturing him.
Two little peaks, however, stop his ascent.
“Goodness, Rogers,” he says, “it’s like you’ve got little skyscrapers right here.”
He pinches them as a joke, but Rogers stiffens and actually moans at that.
“Really?” Barnes asks, too surprised to act cool.
Rogers bites his lip. Then he tries nonchalance.
“Pain,” he says. “I was groaning in pain. Because it hurt so much.”
“Uh huh,” Barnes says. He glances at Rogers’ dick, which is very much not in pain. Then he grabs both nipples between his thumb and forefinger and twists.
Rogers arches his back, groans even louder, and cums all over his recently-cleaned crotch.
“Pain,” Barnes says, watching the hard nubs rise and fall with Rogers’ breathing. “Right.”
Rogers turns away from him, so Barnes uses that opportunity to undo the blindfold. He sets it on the table behind him. Rogers is still looking away when he comes back.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know,” Barnes says. “Plenty of people like having their tits played with. It’s a very common kink.”
Rogers turns to glare at him.
“They’re not tits,” he says.
“Whatever,” Barnes says, flicking one. It jiggles.
Barnes once more draws out his knife, slicing Rogers’ shirt open. He leaves the tatters under Rogers as a bit of a cushion. Rogers doesn’t even flinch when Barnes has a massive knife millimeters away from important arteries. Barnes doesn’t know if he’s stupid or just really bad at self-preservation.
He grabs the lube from the counter near Rogers’ head. Rogers watches him do it, so Barnes flicks his nipples on his return.
“I’m sure you’ve been dying for me to get down here,” he says, stepping between Rogers’ legs He opens the stirrups a little more, giving himself plenty of space to work.
Rogers doesn’t reply, but his cock rises a little in anticipation.
“Lets begin with something simple,” Barnes says.
He squirts some lube in his palm to warm it. Rogers’ hole is right in front of him, all rosy and puckered. He teases the surrounding little blonde hairs, and the hole clenches.
Barnes slicks up his index finger and slides it to the first knuckle, wiggling it around.
“If you’re going to be a tease, maybe send in someone else?” Rogers says. He actually looks annoyed, as though Barnes is some schoolgirl getting curious on prom night.
Just for that, Barnes withdraws his finger, then pushes two in all the way.
Rogers groans something that sounds weirdly like “yes.” Barnes harshly rubs his prostate, hoping it’ll elicit the proper reaction. Does the man not know that Barnes is assaulting him?
Rogers cums.
Apparently not.
Barnes sighs. He really should have expected this. Apparently being tortured into submission is fine, since Rogers seems like the world’s biggest masochist. It figures that Barnes’ brilliant plan would once again be foiled by this idiot.
He rubs Rogers’ prostate all throughout his orgasm and beyond. It ought to be painful, even with Rogers’ shorter refractory period, but the jerk gets hard almost immediately after cumming. Barnes keeps pushing, and even adds a third finger, making Roger cum a second time soon after.
The next step is going to take a little setting up, so Barnes grabs a couple of oversized bullet vibrators and crams them into Rogers’ hole. Once they’re all in, he turns each one on a different vibration pattern and lets them go to work.
While he has his back turned, Rogers goes through at least two orgasms. It might actually be three, since his voice breaks in the middle of one of his groans. In either case, there’s a soupy mess surrounding his cock when Barnes turns back to look at him. Barnes tuts and wipes it off with a washcloth.
Rogers is breathing a little heavy and his eyes are partially closed, but he manages to watch while Barnes cleans him. After making sure his work area is spotless, Barnes reaches down and pulls the vibrators out, one by one. He doesn’t switch them off until they’re completely out, giving Rogers a last goodbye from each.
“Now,” he says, “I know that you normally prefer to ride your little motorcycle around town, but I’ve got a machine that I think will suit you a lot more. I even had it custom fitted, specially for you.”
He rolls the fucking machine closer to Rogers’ table. It’s a thing of beauty. The controls not only allow for forward motion, but also for slight rocking, making him able to change the angle whenever he wants. The cock can alter the girth and length in the middle of a cycle. Barnes can even program in weird shapes, nonhuman dicks or dicks of unnatural size. Rogers loves a challenge and is that much of a cockslut, so Barnes knows he’ll appreciate it.
Rogers is cautiously eyeing the machine. Barnes wonders if he’s thinking it has a more sinister use. The machine certainly resembles a laser more than it does a traditional fucking machine. Does Rogers think he’s going to sear a hole in him, ass to mouth?
Barnes quickly generates a medium-sized dildo and Rogers eyes get big. That’ll show him not to judge.
He locks it into place and aims it at Rogers’ hole, using the tracking system to be completely accurate. He activates it, smoothly pushing into Rogers. Rogers groans as it enters. The thrust is just deep enough to make him full without truly hurting him. Barnes adjusts the angle slightly so that the dildo rubs Rogers’ prostate with each stroke.
The machine does its job wonderfully. It seems to have found the optimal speed for teasing Rogers without letting him get off too quickly. Rogers doesn’t seem too happy about this because he keeps pushing up, trying to fuck himself on the dildo. Barnes takes pity on him and lets him cum, fixing the controls to prioritize quick orgasms over prolonged pleasure. Rogers’ libido appears to finally be slowing down, as it takes him a good couple minutes to cum after that.
For the next round, Barnes attaches a little sensor right under the head of Rogers’ cock. It quickly spreads over the rest of his cock and down to his balls. Barnes knows Rogers prefers getting fucked, but the extra stimulation will help keep him going now that he’s losing sensitivity. Barnes programs the machine to simulate a blowjob, complete with ball fondling, to make Rogers feel like he’s being toyed with from both ends. He adds pulsating nipple covers after two more orgasms and increases the dildo’s girth after the fourth.
Rogers is a mess. There’s a swamp of sweat and cum sitting in his crotch. His eyes seem to be permanently glued shut from exhaustion. The nipple covers wiggle with every rise and fall of his chest, punctuated by occasional jabs as the machine fucks him, squelching at every thrust.
Rogers mutters something, but Barnes is too far away to hear. He walks over to the bench. There’s tear tracks all down Rogers’ face, probably from the overstimulation. Barnes wipes away one tear and licks it off his thumb.
“Bu-cky,” Rogers murmurs.
Barnes stumbles back a step. It’s that stupid nickname; the name that Rogers insists belongs to him. Barnes gets a migraine every time he utters it. Usually, Rogers follows it up with something reckless, further exacerbating his headache.
“Bucky,” Rogers mutters again. His eyes open, staring at Barnes.
“Stop it,” Barnes says.
“Bucky, please,” Rogers says. “I need you.”
Rogers’ eyes are too bright, tears making the blue stand out against his red cheeks.
“I need you,” Rogers repeats. “Need you to fuck me.”
Barnes shakes his head, stepping away.
“No,” he says. “You don’t want that.”
“Want it,” Rogers says. He tries to push himself up, but the bonds tug at his wrists.
“Stop that,” Barnes says, but Rogers continues to do it. Barnes eventually has to walk back over and push him down.
“Fuck me,” Rogers says. It’s softer this time, as though they suddenly need to be secretive. “I want you. Fuck me. Wanted it since we were kids. Used to rub one out after Coney.”
Barnes tightens his hold on Rogers’ wrists. Those stupid words are bringing up false memories again, imaginations of salt and sand and chilled skin. He pushes them aside before they can get too painful and overlays them with pictures of Rogers beneath random men, moaning with pleasure.
“You’ll get out of here eventually,” he says. “Why not just go back to one of your clubs, get some gym rat to fuck you?”
He’s annoyed that he sounds angry. Rogers is a prize. Nothing more.
Rogers looks at him. Barnes gets the feeling that he’s studying him, and can read him better than he’d like.
“They weren’t you,” he says. “Looked like you, but they weren’t. Just a substitute.”
Barnes stares. He thinks back to the men he’d seen fucking Rogers, big, beefy men with dark hair. Sometimes they’d be leaner, neatly pressed into suits, but most of them looked like Barnes does now. He straightens up, disbelieving that he never noticed. His focus had always been on Rogers, never the men fucking him.
“Bucky,” Rogers whines. He cums again, and Barnes realizes that the machine is still fucking him. He hurries over to the console and turns it off, disintegrating the dildo, cocksleeve, and nipple covers. Rogers seems more naked after the machine’s been rolled away. His bare skin is the only thing that’s still on display.
“Why?” Barnes asks. “Why do you still do this? Why don’t you give up?”
Rogers doesn’t answer. His eyes are closed and his chest is moving with a series of deep breaths. Barnes grabs a water bottle and props up Rogers’ head to make him drink. Rogers leans against him, putting his weight on Barnes’ stomach. All of Barnes’ training is telling him that this is the perfect position to break Rogers’ neck. Rogers knows this and shouldn’t be so relaxed.
In that moment, Barnes makes a decision. He leans over Rogers and loosens all the restraints.
“As soon as you get your strength back,” he explains, “go to the closet across the hall. There’s extra uniforms in there. Nobody comes this way, so you won’t be seen. I recommend sneaking out the Northwest loading dock, but you probably already know that.“
Rogers stops him. “Bucky,” he says. “Bucky, I want you.” He’s looking at Barnes with those big blue eyes, the ones that demand attention no matter on a poster or newsreel.
“Steve,” he says. “Stop it.”
“No,” Rogers says. “I won’t. I want you to fuck me. You were always the one. It’s only been you, Buck. Make sure that you’re the last.”
Barnes really wants to hide how much he’s affected by that, but Rogers can see right through him.
“Fuck me,” he says, spreading his legs. “Right now. Or do you want me to find someone better to do it?”
Barnes can’t even stand to put that into thought. He pushes Rogers back down, intending to shut him up, but Rogers just ends up looking smug.
“Obviously, I didn’t do my job correctly,” Barnes says. “You’re still coherent enough to talk shit.”
“Why don’t you fix that?” the bastard asks.
Barnes glares at him and pushes his pants down to release his cock. He’s been hard for a while now, but ignored it in favor of focusing on Rogers. Not anymore.
He lines up his cock and pushes into Rogers. It’s warm and wet, loosened by the fucking machine but still snug enough to squeeze him. Barnes actually groans at the feeling. It takes more discipline than he’d like not to shoot off like a teenager.
At least Rogers doesn’t appear to be doing much better. Despite being at the end of his tolerance, Rogers is groaning and whimpering like this is his first time. Barnes regrets not fully removing his pants, since the added leverage of spreading his legs would give him some extra power. He leans down, putting himself in the perfect position for Rogers to choke him. Rogers grabs him and, for a second, Barnes thinks he’s going to do just that, that Rogers has somehow outwitted him and is now going to kill him. What a way to go, though.
He was wrong. Instead of killing him, which any smart man would’ve done, Rogers pulls him down and kisses him. Barnes hesitates for a second, but it’s too good to pass up. He licks into Rogers’ mouth, possessiveness closing over him. Rogers smiles when he bites his lip, and actually groans as Barnes latches to his neck and bites hard. He sucks, hoping it’ll mark.
Barnes knows he isn’t going to last long. There’s just something about the totality of Rogers that sets him off. He speeds up, going a little rougher like Rogers seems to enjoy. Rogers clenches around him, liking it even when Barnes squeezes a little too hard with his metal hand.
Despite his best efforts, Barnes cums first. He refuses to be completely out done, so he starts jacking Rogers off while he’s still hard inside him. Rogers grabs his shirt and yanks him down. Barnes kisses him, claiming his mouth even when Rogers is too distracted to reciprocate. Finally, Rogers cums. His ass tightens, a little too harshly around Barnes’ sensitive cock, but damn any thoughts of pulling out. He continues to work Rogers’ cock, only stopping when he lets out a whine.
Barnes pulls out, wiping his hand on Rogers’ thigh. He tries to straighten up, but Rogers pulls him back down, almost knocking heads in the process.
“Leave with me,” he says.
Barnes looks at him. This close, he’s just a blur of blue and blonde.
Rogers speaks again, but this time it’s barely a whisper.
“Please, Bucky,” he says.
It’s a reckless, stupid thing to request. Only an idiot would agree. If Barnes did that, he’d have a country-sized bounty on his head and probably an order to kill on sight. So, he does the only thing appropriate for the situation.
“Ok,” he says.
After all, his dick always comes first.