The Russian crew flanked me and took away my weapons. I handed over the rifle. The pistol, mini machine gun and spare ammo came off my back and thighs. They took my knives from the sleeves along my arm, the hidden pocket along my waist, and the spare from my boot. They even took the folded multitool from my belt.
I climbed into the back of one of three vans. Rumlow and four others followed. They were all armed. Not that it would help them. I could take them all apart without taking a single slug. But hey, whatever made them feel better.
Rumlow sat towards the end of the bench and looked up at me. I still had on the goggles and mask. They said it was for my protection. Bull; it was so I wouldn't be recognized. If they were concerned about my welfare, they'd have put me in a helmet. They were hiding me from someone. And I think I knew who. There was a blonde man in my dreams. I woke yesterday almost able to remember his name - almost able to remember MY name - but it fell apart, burned away in the daylight like fog and fear.
I always remembered more than I let on.
Like Rumlow. I remembered him. He was older now, and I knew exactly what he would do with me - after part one of the mission, during downtime, before the second or third. These things usually had three acts. But he wouldn't see more than a flicker of recognition in my eyes. I'd let him think this was new to me. It was more fun that way, pretending to fall under his thrall all over again.
It was dark in the van now, but I wouldn't take the mask off until ordered to do so. Let them think I needed the orders for even that much self direction. Rumlow gave a wave; the weapons lowered, and the men sat. The engine started, and I shifted my weight to stay standing while the van moved.
"Take off your mask and goggles."
I did, and looked at Rumlow as if we'd just met that morning, not years ago. Like he was a brand new handler.
I knelt on the floor, watching him with a gaze that was wary, attentive, but unafraid. He reached for me, and I curled my lip, snarling like a dog, ducking my head away just an inch or so. He stopped.
"Easy, Winter," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you. We're long acquainted, though you don't know it." The hell I didn't. "You did good today. Hell, amazing. You're fuckin' poetry to watch when you're unleashed." This was true. "So I'm here to reward you, not punish you. I know you only remember pain. And life is pain, for the most part. But there's pleasure too, when you're good. Lemme show you." I closed my mouth and let an uncertain expression come over me, looking between his face and his hand. "I promise, Winter, I know just how you like to be touched."
I let him touch me. I loved this part, when I let him think he'd won a little trust from me, slipped inside my defenses. I'd just gotten him to touch me how I wanted, his hand stroking my hair, pushing it over my ear, brushing the shell of my ear, scraping my scalp. I’d been looking forward to this all day. I relaxed my shoulders, let my head tilt forward a little and sighed, like I was surprised at how relaxing and arousing it felt.
I edged over to him little by little as he coaxed me on. He moved his hand down to the nape of my neck, rubbing my muscles, slipping his fingers under my collar. I made little noises in my throat, barely audible. He liked that. He patted his knee.
"Do you want to rest your head on my leg?"
"Yes," I said, sounding incredulous, like I was surprised he would know what I wanted. I laid my cheek right above his knee. The canvas cloth smelled of gun oil and baby powder scented detergent. He unbuckled the straps across my back one by one, touching more of my skin, little by little, and I relaxed my body a little more with each one, leaning more heavily against his leg like a contented dog.
"Do you like this?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered. Of course I did.
"Tell me," he purred, happy with our progress.
"It feels good," I said, letting a touch of pleasant surprise come into my measured, militant voice. "All over. I'm ... warm. Really warm."
"Do you want more?"
"Yes." I was plastered against his leg now, my head practically in his lap, a puddle where there had been a ball of violence only minutes earlier.
One of the Russians cursed and said, shaking his head, "It really IS trained to you."
"He," Rumlow said, a gentle correction. "I assure you, gentlemen, the Winter Soldier is thoroughly male. I should know." He had both hands on me now, one trailing down my exposed back, the other in my hair. "I've been handling him for two decades now. I know him."
Not as well as he thought. He respected my combat and tactical skills, but he always underestimated my mind.
The safe house wasn't far. He had the rest of my shirt off of me, the Kevlar and leather body armor discarded. He stood up; I made a faint noise of protest, and let him silence me with the slightest look of reprimand. He took a cotton t-shirt out of a supply case overhead and handed it to me. "Put that on," he said. Still kneeling, I did so.
An armed man opened the back of the van when the engine stopped. "You have the asset under control?" he huffed.
"Yeah, we're good here," Rumlow said. I spared only the faintest looks for the armed man, keeping my eyes on Rumlow, like he'd inspired new and interesting feelings of trust and arousal in me. He cupped my jaw and ran the pad of his thumb over my cheek. "You got a room ready?"
"Last one on the left down the main hall," the armed man said. "Has its own facilities, locks from the outside, steel all around."
"Not necessary" or near enough "but thank you. I'm sure we'll be comfortable."
A pause. "You're staying in the room with that thing?"
"You still talkin'?" Rumlow gruffed.
The man shrugged and led the way to the room.
I remembered the place. It had no windows, one door, and the bathroom was little more than an alcove with not even a curtain for privacy. They needed to keep me in sight at all times. There were cameras, little bitty things, in the corners. I inspected the room as if I’d never seen it before, stalking unknown threats like the animalistic hunter he supposed me to be. Rumlow let me look, circling back to him when I was satisfied.
“My mission is complete,” I said. “What will be expected of me as we return?” I wouldn’t be expected to remember anything about past missions. For the most part, I didn’t. But I remembered that they came in sets. They rarely brought me out of cryo for just one job.
“Don’t worry about that right now,” Rumlow said. He pushed my hair out of my eyes. “There’s another mission coming up. We’ll be getting orders as soon as we’re out of enemy territory. I’ll tell you as each step comes along. Right now, all we gotta do is relax and wait for the extraction team. And that will take a day, maybe two.” He removed his shoulder holsters and boots. “For now, Winter, we got all the time in the world.That means making sure you’re under my control. And between you and me? This is my favorite part of any mission.”
I let a furrow appear between my eyes, like I didn’t understand. He gestured to the bed.
I did, flat on my back, rigid. He laid beside me and started touching me, openly, brazenly. No soft touches disguised as comfort or massage now. This was groping, running his hand up my ribs, thumbing my nipples through the thin shirt. I stared at him, not looking afraid yet, but definitely unsure.
“Relax, baby,” Rumlow purred in my ear. He sucked on my earlobe and slid his hand between my legs. Nope, too far; if I didn’t remember him, I wouldn’t have let him do it. So I had to pretend he’d crossed a line, even though all I really wanted at that moment was sex. The Winter Soldier he was expecting wouldn’t allow it. But I could still have fun with this.
Before he even knew I was moving, I snatched his wrist and rolled on top of him, snarling, pinning him with both weight and strength. I let every bit of savage fury show, my muscles quivering with unspent violence. Rumlow’s eyes flew wide as he realized his misstep, fear mixed with arousal. He might be in danger, but this was a little bit different, a variation in our usual dance, and it excited him. He swallowed, and said in a voice that betrayed none of the fear in his eyes, “Winter Soldier. Part of your mission is accepting my orders.”
“You gave me no order,” I said, each word a gutteral growl.
“Then obey me now. Lie down. On top of me, this time.” I feigned uncertainty as I lowered my body against his, obeying in spite of myself. I loved the feeling of his muscular chest against me, my legs on either side of his. I couldn’t let on how much I wanted it, though, not when the Winter Soldier was supposed to be somewhat ignorant of the end game.
“Let go of my wrist.”
I let go. I left red marks in his olive-colored skin. He deliberately, slowly, pushed my t-shirt up so he could touch my naked back, keeping eye contact so he could see my apprehension and confusion give way to relaxation and arousal. He was back to stroking me the way I liked it, gentle caresses that almost tickled. I dropped my eyes a couple of times, and he raised my chin to bring my gaze back to his. He wanted to watch me surrender to his touch. It was fucking hot. I made him wait for it, but eventually I let my eyelids droop and my muscles relax. He guided me to lay my head on his chest.
“There you go, baby,” he purred. “That’s better. God your weight feels good. Just relax.” I could feel his hard cock against my belly. I knew he wanted to roll me over and take me. Heh, he’d have to work for it. He kept talking to me while he stroked my back. “Orders can take the form of body language, gestures, even a look. You’ll relearn that. Anything that comes from me, you can take as an order. No more acting out, okay? No more saying no. You get that?” He raised my head to look at him again. “You understand? You don’t get to say no to me, Winter.”
I let a touch of tension come back into my expression. “But,” I said slowly, as if the gears in my head were having trouble turning to process it, “what if I want you to stop?”
“Ohhh, baby,” he purred, petting my hair, “you can always ask. I’ll hear your requests. But it’s up to me to make the decision. You get that? You don’t have to make any decisions. But you can ask.” He touched my lower lip with his thumb. “Would you like to ask for something?”
I gulped, as if summoning up courage. “Will you warn me before you put your hands on me in an unexpected way?” I paused, as if unsure. “Please?”
The please was a nice touch, because Rumlow nodded. “Yes. I will absolutely do that. Good boy, see, that wasn’t hard, was it? Good boy.” A ghost of a smile touched my mouth. I liked being told I was good, and he knew it. “Take your shirt off.”
I pulled the t-shirt off, tossed it aside and settled back as I had been, looking at him for the next set of instructions. He ran his hands over me, murmuring appreciation. He bit my shoulder, hard, and I jumped, but didn’t pull away. That apparently earned me a small brownie point. He knew I really liked having my sides touched; he watched for the familiar reaction as he felt my ribs, the soft skin of my waist, and I gave it to him. My breath hitched as he grazed his nails up my ribcage, and my head fell back just a touch.
“You like that?”
“Yes sir,” I repeated, and he smiled, watching me struggle to process the stimulation. Internally, I just revelled in it. I had so much more control than he gave me credit for. But it sure was fun this way.
“I’m going to help you with these,” he said, and reached between us to unbutton my pants. He pulled the zipper down. He pushed my pants down over my narrow hips, slid his hands over the curve of my ass and made a thrumming sound in my ear like an eager stud horse.
“I’m going to touch you between your legs,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you. It’ll feel good if you’ll just relax.”
I knew it would, so this time I allowed it when he touched me. He pushed my pants down farther and slid a finger against my ass, pressing against the tight rim of muscle. I held very still, hardly breathing. He retrieved a small tube of ointment from his pocket and put some on his finger. He pushed the tip of his finger inside me, making me jump, as if in surprise.
“Hold still,” Rumlow purred. “You’re doing so good, baby.”
“Why are you doing that?” I demanded, voice strained.
“Doesn’t it feel good?”
“It feels strange,” I said.
“It’ll start feeling good soon. Besides,” he practically growled in my ear, “you need to be stretched and wet before I put my cock in there.”
“Oh,” was all I said, but I put a damn lot of bewilderment and fear into that one syllable. It was crazy difficult to do, since I was aroused as hell.
He bought it. I could feel it in the sudden swell of his cock, and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. My fear turned him on. “You’ll enjoy it too, baby. You always do.”
“You’ve done that to me before. We’ve done that.”
“I keep telling you, we have a history. All this has happened before and will happen again. Trust me, Winter. I know what you want more than you do.”
Not fucking likely. After a minute I let myself relax, and he smiled against my cheek. I nuzzled his neck, kissed his ear, touched my tongue to his skin, as if experimenting with touch. He murmured encouragement and added a second finger to his slow, shallow penetrations. I was hard now, and moved my hips a little in time with him. He ghosted his mouth over mine and added a third before I was strictly ready. I tensed and he slowed down, until my muscles relaxed.
Once he could easily push three fingers inside me, he said, “Roll over, Winter.” I did so. He pulled my boots off of me, then my pants, and for a moment he stood at the edge of the bed, looking at my naked body, a pale, disjointed array of muscle, metal, scar and muscle. He shook his head.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said. “I never get used to seeing your body, you’re unlike anyone else. Beautiful.”
I bit my bottom lip, eyebrows raised like I wanted to say, ‘You really think I’m beautiful?’ But I didn’t. I knew damn well what he thought of my body. Even if I thought I was a mess.
He stripped, no finesse or seduction, just practical. He moved over my body like a lean jungle cat, hunting, predatory. His erect cock was as big as I remembered. Bigger than me in girth, though I had him beat in length. He pressed his forward knee up under my balls, just enough pressure to stop short of hurting.
"Spread your legs, Winter Soldier," he said, lust giving his eyes a mad gleam. He smiled as I opened my legs for him, and he pushed my knees farther apart still. He loved seeing me vulnerable like this, his to take, a powerful, dangerous man but helpless to stop him. I hoped my expression was a mix of fear and naive bewilderment. In reality, I could hardly wait for him to fuck me.
He sank down on top of me, chest to chest, and began moving his hips back and forth, rubbing our cocks against each other. I gave him the reaction he wanted - I let my head loll back, eyes rolling up in my skull, moaning in pleasure. I lifted my hips to press against him harder. He put his hand between us and moved his cock lower. I heard the click of the top of the lube. The head of his cock pressed against my ass. He lifted up on one elbow so he could watch my expression.
"I'm going to put my cock in your ass now," he said.
"Can I ask you not to?" I said, voice quavering like a youngster. If he said yes, I'd regret asking, but I had to make a show of resistance. This was supposed to be new to me.
He shook his head. "Gotta go this way. Gotta make sure you're under my control, completely, for the next phase of this mission. But I'll make sure it feels good. I know what you like. You trust me?"
I stared up at him, my eyes raw with unshed tears. It was easy to dig up enough loss and grief to cry when I wanted to. Inside, I was cackling with glee, watching him be soooo careful to toe the line of consent and orders with me. He was so much fun.
“Yes sir,” I said softly.
"Then relax," he whispered in my ear, "while I fuck you."
I did relax. He felt me with his fingers, moaning when he felt the tension in my muscles give. That was enough submission for him. He removed his fingers, and replaced them with his slicked-up cock. He was big, and the pressure was intense. He started moving in me immediately, rubbing in and out slowly, grunting with every thrust. He went deeper every few minutes, until he was fully sheathed in me. He started fucking me in earnest then, pulling out to nearly his full length before pushing back into me. I knew exactly how much pressure he wanted on his cock, and I kept it there. I loved being on bottom, having a cock shoved up my ass, but I made sure my noises sounded like protests and pleas of pain.
"Oh God, Winter," Rumlow snarled, "You feel so good. Nobody else feels as good as you do.”
“It hurts,” I managed to say. It didn’t hurt at all, of course. It felt fucking amazing. If anything, I wanted to tilt my hips up and ask him to go faster, to fuck me harder.
“Relax. It’ll feel good if you just relax, baby. You’re being so good, letting me fuck you through the pain. You’re showing me how obedient you are, how far under my control you are. That’s good. You give it a few minutes, you’ll be rewarded with pleasure, too.” He worked in me, his hips rocking hard. He took my cock in his hand and stroked me in time with his thrusts, and I cried out, gripping the sheets. He wasn’t hitting my prostate, though, and I was sure it was on purpose. He knew that would bring me to climax, fast. He wanted me to last longer than that.
He hit the right angle when he had me roll over, and took me from behind. He knew I didn't like to be on all fours as much, my ass in the air, but he liked it, so he at least made it good for me. He pushed my head against the mattress with his hand, like he was pinning me, and I let him. He withdrew from me several times, just so he could feel the renewed pleasure of entering me again. I couldn’t pretend not to like it now. I made incomprehensible noises as he stroked in and out of me, hitting that wonderful spot deep in my body that sent waves of pleasure through me every moment. I still didn't climax, though. He wouldn't let me touch my cock, or stroke it for me. I howled in frustration, wavering on the edge of an orgasm I couldn't quite reach.
"Please," I said, "please, sir, I - I - "
"I know you want to come", he said, slowing down so he could address me. He deliberately pushed his cock into me, slowly. "But I have not finished pleasuring myself in you."
"I'll be good," I said. "For as long as you want. I've been good today, haven't I?"
"You have," Rumlow said, "but I want you to wait. Unless you're so eager you'll take another cock in you. Or three, or four."
I went rigid. I couldn’t speak. My mind flashed back, unbidden, to terrible incidents in my past. My training, my breaking. Every muscle in my body, metal and flesh alike, tensed as I struggled to close the door on those memories. No no no, I thought, I don't want to get dragged down into those. I'm enjoying myself here, dammit!
Rumlow knew immediately that something was wrong, and withdrew from me. He pushed me onto my back, tried to get me to look at him, engage him, but I was panicking inside. The memories were there, lurking beneath the surface, loaded and waiting for a trigger. The smells surfaced in my mind - filth, rotted vegetation, bloodied leather, piss and burned hair. Pain humiliation, horror, fear, retching, sobbing, over and over - I folded in on myself, talking fast in Russian. I was vaguely aware of Rumlow's arms around me; he drew me against his chest and stroked my hair. Then he did something he almost never did - perhaps at a loss for anything else to snap me out of it, perhaps to test me, or maybe, just maybe now, out of sheer emotion.
He kissed me. My eyes flew wide. He cradled my jaw in one hand, so gentle a touch I might have called it loving. I kissed him back, and we sank against each other, both of us making little noises in our throats, pleading and pleased sounds, and my mind reeled, wrenched away from my own memories, suddenly back in a place that, by comparison, was warm and happy and peaceful. The door in my mind slammed shut, and locked. Thank God. I was back in control.
He tasted so good. I opened my mouth and let him swipe his tongue against mine. His lips were soft, surprisingly so. Kiss after kiss, and me swooning like a teenager at the touch. When he pulled back enough to catch his breath he said, "You remember more than you let on."
"Some," I lied. There would never be complete truth between us. "I remembered Cuba."
His eyes flashed with sorrow. "Oh," he said. "Well, I am sorry for that. I wasn't even alive then - I forget how far back you go, how you've had other handlers."
"They were not always so kind as you," I said, leaning my face into the touch of his hand.
He barked a laugh. "Some would say what I do with you isn't kind, either."
I gave a half-shrug. "It could be worse. It HAS been worse."
He touched his forehead to mine. “You know, in telling me this, that I’ll have to report it. They’ll have to wipe you.”
“I know.” They’d have wiped me anyway.
“Kinda sorry you won’t remember this moment. Damn it, I’m not supposed to get attached to you. Jackass.”
I brushed my mouth against his. “You’ll just have to remember for both of us.”
We kissed again, and it was wonderful, all over again. I hooked my leg up over his hip to press our bodies as close together as I could. He smelled good, like metal and Kevlar and that scent that was unique to him, just his skin, his hair, his breath. Suddenly he pulled back, with a sharp intake of breath and laughed.
"You son of a bitch! You let me think you were naive about my intentions, but you had the same end in mind the whole time, didn't you?"
"Mmmmmaybe," I purred against his throat
"And here I was enjoying dominating you in your innocent state."
"Can't rape the willing. Sorry."
He trailed his hand down my side and groped my ass, his large hand feeling me boldly. We were both hard again. "And you're willing, Winter?"
"For you?" I leaned up to whisper in his ear. "Yes. Always yes. You are my handler, and I submit to your command."
He swallowed and said, "Then roll over, and lemme make you my bitch."
I grinned and rolled to face away from him on my side. He scooted up against me, and I once again felt the long, rigid shaft of his cock pressing against me. He renewed the lubrication on us both, and pushed inside me once more, in one smooth motion. He moaned in my ear as he slid his cock in and out of my ass. I moaned, too, because finally, he was hitting that spot inside me that felt so good, so unbelievably good.
"You want it, baby?" Rumlow growled.
"Yes," I managed to say. "I love it like that, god, you're so big, mnmmn, right there - "
He took ahold of my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. "Mine. You're mine. You're for my pleasure." With his spare hand he reached down to grasp my cock. "But I don't mind giving a little back, when you been good. And you have been. You lied, but you did so to keep me happy, to let me think I was forcing you. Let me tell you though, I think I like it better, knowing you remember my cock up your ass, even through the mind wipes. Makes more of an impression on you than violence. You remember it, and you want it again."
"But it feels good," I whined, trying to stay still for him and not buck into his hand, which was stroking my own cock expertly, in rhythm with Rumlow's anal thrusts.
"You didn't think so the first time."
"I don't remember that. All I remember is wanting it."
"Oh God," Rumlow cried, his thrusts becoming almost vicious in their speed and intensity. He pounded me, bit my shoulder until I bled, fucked me so hard it really did start to hurt, then he came inside me, nearly screaming, filling my ass with his spunk. I'd have to clean myself up later. I didn't care, because a few strokes later, I came too, my spine curling involuntarily. The pleasure rocked through me, making me cry out and buck my hips back and forth. I loved the feeling of his hand around my cock, fingers grazing my balls, his callouses and fingernails scraping the delicate skin ever so slightly. He knew just how to touch me, even though I barely remembered him doing so. As far as I knew, he’d done this a hundred times. He knew our steps, even if I didn’t.
We lay panting on the bed for a few minutes, catching our breath. He reluctantly withdrew from me, and sent me into the shower to clean myself up. I didn’t take too long, and I brought him a warm, soapy towel.
He grinned up at me. “Good boy,” he said. “Now how’d you know to do that?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think about it. Just seemed like the thing to do.”
He shook his head. “The things your brain retains.” He wiped himself down then handed the towel back to me. I threw it back in the bathroom, and hesitated as I hovered at the edge of the bed.
“I’m to sleep here,” I said, only half inquiry.
This was difficult to ask. Better to make it a statement. “I would find it easier to remain calm if you stayed.”
Rumlow gave me a look. “You’re not really supposed to make requests, you know. You get what we give you.”
I dipped my head in acquiescence. “I made no request, I simply stated a truthful assessment of the situation, and made a tactical recommendation. That is absolutely within the bounds of my training and purpose.”
Rumlow rolled his eyes. “Fucking literalist. Sure, I’ll stay tonight. Better to keep an eye on you anyway.”
I was overjoyed - I rarely got to sleep in an actual bed, and hardly ever with another person. Most of the time - I was partially theorizing, my memories were so fragmented - Rumlow established his sexually dominant role with me before the mission began. Sometimes he reinforced my submission at some other point, my reliance upon him, but rarely were we so long in the field that an overnight stay away from a Hydra facility was necessary. It made me want to ask questions. Why hadn’t he led with that this time, going straight into the field instead? Why the long period before extraction? What was the next phase of the mission? I didn’t ask. I took what I could get. I pulled back the thin blankets and slid between the sheets. He slid in next to me and laid on his back. I cozied up to his side, my metal arm slung over his chest.
He pulled my leg up, so that my inner thigh lay across his crotch. He was semi-hard again, and ground against me with a little shiver of pleasure. “Gonna have to wait till the morning, I think,” he said. “I’ll have to get after you a little more ferociously. Make sure you know who’s in charge here.”
“You are,” I said, pressing my mouth to his throat, just under his ear. “Your weapon to wield. Yours for the taking. You command and I obey. Gladly.”
Rumlow made a thrumming sound in his throat. “You sweet little fuck. You shouldn’t have the wherewithall to put together thoughts as complex as that. But tonight? I’ll take it. Get some sleep, Winter. Tomorrow’s gonna be rough.”
I smiled against his skin and purred, “Just the way I like it.”