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Thirty-Six Dollars

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They were in a cell. It was dark, and there wasn’t much for them to look at besides each other. Sam was sitting on the floor, Natasha on the cot, and Steve was by the bars, handcuffed and on his knees.

Rumlow came in first, smirking and cool as a cucumber, looking them over. The guys with him kept their guns on Steve, right at his head, so close that even Natasha couldn’t have possibly taken them all out before Steve got a bullet in his brain.

“So, you’ve got options,” Rumlow said, folding his arms over his chest. “Not going to make you draw straws or anything, that’s no fun. Gonna tell you exactly what’s going to happen, and you’re going to decide among yourselves which of you’s gonna come with me. Sound fair?”

They looked at each other. Sam and Steve seemed bound and determined that it was not going to be Natasha. Natasha was mildly annoyed by this assumption, as suffering through interrogations was her specialty, but then Rumlow opened his mouth again.

“See, I’ve got about a dozen agents who did a very good job bringing the three of you in today, and they deserve a reward. I don’t care which one of you gives it to them- though Cap would obviously be the best. He’s got that mouth, you know. And Romanov- no offense, but you’re covert ops. You’ve probably done it before. It wouldn’t bother you as much.”

Sam started to growl and Natasha’s face went carefully blank. Steve, though. Steve bit his lips together, dropping his eyes to the floor. His shoulders gave the tiniest shake, and Natasha wondered what that meant. It was almost-

Why would he be laughing? She couldn’t ask, not when the Hydra agents were everywhere.

“I’ll do it,” Steve said, low and firm, his eyes moving up from the floor to meet Rumlow’s by the time he fell silent again. “You knew I’d volunteer, Brock. Let’s go.”

Rumlow chuckled, two of the men lowering their guns and hauling Steve to his feet.

“I’d hoped so, Cap,” he drawled, shoving the middle of his back to get him moving. “That bottom lip alone belongs in a goddamn porno.”

Sam made a strangled noise, but Steve didn’t look back at him, or Natasha for that matter. He let Rumlow lead him out of the holding area and down the hall.

 


 

“Cuffs or no cuffs?” Steve asked, low, brusque and completely businesslike.

Rumlow raised an eyebrow. “Think we’d trust you uncuffed?” he asked. “You’re bad enough with one hand down.”

“And you’ve got guys with guns in the next room watching my friends,” Steve said. “I’m not going to do anything stupid, Brock.”

“You’re not,” Rumlow agreed. “Even cuffed, we’re going to have guns on your head the whole time. Serum won’t help you there. And then we can cut you up and see what made you work when nobody else did.”

Steve didn’t say anything.

They shoved him to the floor again in a room where one wall was a two-way mirror, and he landed on his side on his shoulder before he pushed himself up to his knees.

“It’s a hard call,” Rumlow murmured, walking around him, “Whether I want you first, when you’re not broken yet, or last, when your jaw’s gone slack and your face is a mess.”

Steve’s shoulders shook again, the tiniest quiver, and he gave him a flat stare. It wasn’t angry, defiant or surprised, and Rumlow’s own expression shifted for the pensive as he shifted his tactical belt out of the way and undid his fly.

“Maybe both,” Rumlow said, smirking. He came in close, patting his cock against the side of Steve’s face. “Bad part is, without a show to warm me up, you’re gonna have to work for it. Get it hard and get it done, Cap. Your teeth so much as graze me, I’ll kick you in the balls.”

Steve’s expression bothered him, and Rumlow couldn’t say why. He drew in a deep, slow breath as he visibly prepared his nerves, and then his lips parted and he swallowed Rumlow’s half-limp cock to the base.

“What the fuck,” Rumlow frowned, staring down at him, but Steve ignored him as his tongue worked against and around Rumlow’s cock in steady, pulsing undulations, and even as Rumlow got harder, longer and thicker, he just took it, all of it, even when it reached the back of his throat.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Rumlow grumbled. Steve wasn’t even blushing. He didn’t seem to need air. Rumlow decided to test that, making a fist in Steve’s short blond hair, grabbing his neck, and starting to fuck his face. The rougher he got, the angrier he was. Steve wasn’t even breaking a sweat. He was drooling, sure, but that was helpful, and his tongue was still moving. He lasted all of seven minutes before he shot off in Steve’s mouth, the head of his cock wedged so deep in Steve’s throat that he ought to have coughed, choked or drowned on it.

He swallowed. It barely made a sound. Rumlow pulled his dick out and slapped him in the face.

“Yeah, okay,” he huffed. “See how long you can keep that up.”

Steve’s shoulders shook again, a little longer this time. Rumlow frowned harder. Something wasn’t right.

He shifted out of the way and dropped back to watch. The next agent was already hard, and he didn’t even bother with a show. He cracked his big hand across Steve’s face so his jaw dropped open, grabbed him by the hair and started savaging him right away. Within a minute and a half, the grunts of effort and irritation had turned to startled sounds of pleasure, and he finished up even faster than Rumlow had.

“What was that, six?” Steve asked, his voice barely any more hoarse than when he’d begun. “Huh. Pretty quick.”

The Hydra agent, flustered, backhanded him again before being shoved out of the way by the next guy.

“You want somebody to go a little longer?” he said, trying to menace Steve with his big shoulders and long, throbbing dick. “Let’s go for a ride, Captain.”

After three minutes, it got wet, sloppy and obscenely loud. They could see Steve’s adam’s apple bobbing with effort, his pink lips starting to get a little swollen, his eyes, startlingly, partially open. When the guy only lasted about a minute longer than Rumlow, somebody snickered.

Steve’s shoulders shook in response even as another erection was stuffed into his mouth, this one thicker and contrastingly dark against his fair face. Wide didn’t seem to bother him, either. His lips stretched luridly, taut and strained, but his cheeks and throat were moving and he bobbed his head as best he could until the guy grabbed his head, too.

“I’m on a roll,” Steve muttered, scraping his lips with his teeth. “I’ll bet you a second turn none of you lasts more than nine minutes.”

His shoulders shook even longer when the fifth guy shut him up by stuffing his mouth again.  

The seventh guy pulled out and came on his face. It was the first time they saw him flinch, and even that was somewhat marred by the fact that the flinch came in the form of a startled bark of laughter.

“Christ,” he said, and his voice was finally starting to show some wear. “That’s kinda filthy, isn’t it?”

“Come shots are a thing now,” the eighth guy said, and he used his cock to smear the mess around Steve’s face, holding him still by the hair to do it. “Facials. Maybe we should all do you like that, Cap, since you seem to gulp it down easy enough.”

“Whatever you want,” Steve said, sounding genuinely indifferent, and Rumlow scowled harder, glaring at the two-way mirror. They hadn’t anticipated he’d be able to stand it. He was ninety goddamn years old. He was supposed to be humiliated. He was laughing at them.

After the eleventh guy barely stuck out for seven, Rumlow was feeling too annoyed to even want a second round. Come was dripping down Steve’s cheeks, glistening and getting sticky in his hair. There were even smears of it on his clothes- his jacket was ruined, it was all over his chest and the shoulders, a slowly cooling puddle on his stomach. He wasn’t broken, though, wasn’t even shaken. The quivering shoulders had turned into wheezy, gutteral laughs. They still weren’t in his head at all. Rumlow figured he could change that pretty quick.

“Maybe we should swap in the Asset for the last round,” he suggested. “Since you two seem to have a history.”

The reaction that got was even more unexpected. Steve grinned at Rumlow. It was an ugly smile, frightening and feral, full of such quiet hate and bleakness that it didn’t belong on his wholesome, pretty face, even as brutalized and messy as it was looking at the moment.

“Don’t bother. It’d just be embarrassing for everybody,” he grated. “You guys take effort because kids these days are all cut. Relic like him? I could do it in four.”

There was a crash against the other side of the glass, like someone had slammed a fist against it, and Rumlow empathized. This was infuriating. The last guy slid his cock into Steve’s mouth slow, determined to make it last, and the rest of them exchanged moody stares.

Rumlow and his strike team checked their watches. As quick as Steve had been, they needed to be at the Triskelion for the launch. They left him with the five remaining guys, with four guns pointed at his head and one cock pointed at his mouth.

 


 

 The crash repeated itself a few minutes later, and within seconds of the last guy painting Steve’s goddamn eyelashes, the two-way mirror shattered. Hill, Natasha and Sam had the whole pack of agents neutralized before anyone got off a single shot, and Steve was shaking silently, his eyes on the floor.

"Steve!" Natasha ran over to where he was staggering to his feet, putting an arm around his waist and trying not to wince at the sour, salty smell coming off of him, at the state of his face, his hair, his clothes. Hill and Sam had less luck hiding their horror.

He waved her off, shaking his head fiercely, a hard smirk on his face. “I’m okay.”

"What did they-" she began, but then stopped, biting her lip. It was obvious. His mouth was swollen, he was dragging the back of his hand over his lips.

"It’s all right," he assured her, his voice hoarse and rough. "I’m okay. Don’t worry about it."

"We’re gonna have to get you a counselor or something," Sam said, also looking worried. "That had to be really-"

"Traumatizing? Nah," Steve was shaking his head again. "Two glasses of water and a toothbrush, I’m good."

"What the Hell, man?" Sam asked.

"You don’t have to act tough," Natasha said, quietly. "Not with us."

"I’m not acting," Steve smiled at her, his eyes narrowed in dark amusement. "I’m really not. It’s 2013, thirty-six dollars ain’t a big deal."

Hill, Natasha and Sam blinked at each other, then gave him matching questioning looks. Steve just shrugged. His posture was back to normal. His smirk was tight, but it wasn’t without humor.

"Used to get three dollars a pop. It's nothing. I'm all right, I promise."

Sam’s mouth dropped open in shock. Hill’s eyebrows went up. Natasha stared at him pointedly.

Steve shrugged again. “How does anybody think I paid the rent while Bucky was in Basic? In the Navy Yard, on my knees, like anybody else. People really don’t know a damn thing about Brooklyn history, do they?”

 

Chapter Text

Crossbones lay on the ground, which wasn’t worthy of comment, but to see Captain America crouched over his unconscious body, rifling through his wallet, was.

“Steven.”

Natasha was the most prone to calling him that when he was in trouble. Bucky was more of a-

“Goddamn it, Stevie, what the Hell are you doing?”

“Collecting,” Steve said, helping himself to three twenties.

“Collecting,” Natasha repeated.

Bucky smirked. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“As a goddamned heart attack,” Steve said, kicking Crossbones in the kidney as he stood up, tucking the twenties into one of the pouches on his belt. “DUMBO boys don’t work for free.”

***

“I’m a little hazy,” Rumlow said, his hands cuffed behind his back. He was squinting up at Steve from the chair in the interrogation room. Ostensibly, Natasha was conducting the interrogation, but Rumlow had perked up when Steve had come in to bring her coffee. “They said you cleaned out my wallet?”

“You owed me fifty bucks,” Steve shrugged. “Kept a tenner for a tip.”

“I don’t follow,” Rumlow said, shaking his head. “We make some drunk bet I forgot about?”

“My goin’ rate was three dollars,” Steve said, smirking. “Inflation. Do yourself a favor, next time you think you’re gonna intimidate somebody? Do your fuckin’ research.”

He slipped out the door, and Rumlow blinked up at Natasha. “Did Cap just cop to bein’ a rent boy?”

“Cap’s full of surprises,” Natasha acknowledged. “Don’t know why you thought you ever had a chance.”