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The Fist of HYDRA

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They fuck him sloppy.

There's no other word for it. By the time the STRIKE team is done with him, he's covered in their filth, and every fucking inch of him hurts.

He's never been so violated in his life. They had made a game of it; how much could the body of a super soldier take?

Evidently, a lot.

The entire STRIKE team, leering over him, cutting his uniform off of him, not caring how deep the knife scores into his flesh. Denying him any dignity by cutting away the fabric from his dick and his ass, two lewdly cut holes over his nipples. The star between them is painted in cum.

Some hero.

The gag in his mouth is already soaked through. At least with it, it's been easier to keep in each sound of pain, each hitched breath. Harder is hiding the betrayal in his eyes. This was his team, men and women he trusted to have his back, not fuck him over the first chance they got. They might be getting their rocks off, but they won't get any tears from him.

He hates bullies.

Rumlow grabs a fistful of his hair, pulls him up so he can look directly into his eyes. "How we feelin', Cap? Still good?" He drawls and Steve can only glare hatefully back at him. His betrayal had been the worst of all; he'd thought there'd been some sort of a connection, some camaraderie. Brock had seemed like the kind of guy who'd watch your back, not come all over it.

But then this is a new era, how could a relic like him even begin to think he'd fit in? Everyone in this time has only ever used him.

He misses having friends.

"You're lookin' pretty wrecked back there. You sure that super serum's gonna fix that?"

Steve winces. It's hard to assess the damage to his body when he's mag-cuffed wrists to ankles with his ass in the air. He can feel his hole twitching and someone behind him laughs. Then, the telltale snap of a camera phone. Technology. So damn useful.

Someone tosses Brock the phone, and he pushes it in front of his face. He winces away from the screen.

"Come on Cap, don't be shy." Rumlow murmurs, and ruffles his fingers through his hair. "It's a good look on you."

He keeps his eyes firmly shut, and the other man exaggerates a sigh. "Well, if you don't want to look, I'm sure that a stun baton or three could fit in there quite nicely. . ."

Steve opens his eyes to glare up at the other man. There's cruelty there, but he can also see the determination of a man just following orders. Whatever orders they were. Most likely, 'break Steve Rogers'. Exhaling softly, he looks at the screen.

His ass is gaping wide, covered in white. It looks disgusting as all hell, the pink of his insides pulsating and covered in other men's spunk. It doesn't look natural, the rim of his hole swollen and thick. Again, he closes his eyes.

He can hear Rollins snickering behind him. He's never really liked the man, but the reedy laugh makes him hate him even more. Not to mention the violation he's been through.

"What, you don't like your pretty little pussy, Cap?"

Steve's eyes flicker open, fire in his gaze. If he could talk, he'd let Brock know exactly what a sick piece of shit he and HYDRA are for their handiwork. But he won't reduce himself to muffled noises behind the gag.

Brock looks up past him, and the smile on his mouth widens, turns malicious. "Y'know, I bet we could fit something much bigger up there."

A couple of the men around grunt and laugh, and Steve wonders what they have planned. It can't be any worse than what he's already been through.

He can hear someone step up behind him and he glances up, heart sinking.


Of course. He's enraged that they would make his friend be a part of something like this, but realistically, Bucky has gone through much, much worse.

His eyes widen in horror as Bucky kneels behind him, blank eyes assessing the damage. He can see that metal arm glinting in the light ominously.

"I don't think your dick is gonna fit in there. Maybe something else will though?"

Bucky stares blankly up at Rumlow, as if awaiting orders. Steve hopes despite the lack of recognition, somehow, Bucky will remember him, won't do this.

Rumlow sighs. "Gotta tell you how to do everything. Come on man, use your arm."

Steve tenses at the words, and looks incredulously up at the other man. Brock just smiles grimly down at him. That's when he feels the first cold touch on his ass, metal fingers probing his rim. Sucking in a breath, he bites the inside of his cheek.

He won't break for them.

"Man, that's going to make a mess." Rollins states, and Cap doesn't know how much worse his this can really get.

Rumlow laughs. "Fuck tech. I don't give a shit what they have to clean out of these gears, it's worth it." He states coolly, and Steve can feel more and more of Bucky's fingers slipping inside him, the cool metal kind of soothing the burn of his insides. He must not be healing yet, because it doesn't quite hurt.

Then, that hand is in up to the knuckles, and the added girth is way too much. Bucky presses on, until Steve takes him up to the wrist.

He's breathing heavily now, those fingers deep inside, stretching and exploring. The sensation is odd, like he's completely full to the point that he might vomit. Fleetingly, he remembers a Thanksgiving when Bucky'd worked enough overtime on the docks to afford a small turkey. He'd gutted it patiently, hand sunk in to the wrist to scoop all of the innards out. He breathes harshly through the gag at the thought of being trussed up like something for dinner.

Did Bucky even remember that? Would he even remember this? He hopes that he won't. Those fingers feel around inside of him until they stroke against his prostate, and Steve cries out through the gag. He's managed to stay unaroused through all of this, but now with those fingers stretching and brushing against him, he has to fight it.

Rumlow laughs, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut. "Like what you're feeling, Cap?"

Of course he doesn't. It's not even made to feel better just because it's Bucky; that fact might make it even worse. He breathes in short little huffs as that hand works in and out of him, stretching him without hurting. He's shocked that it doesn't.

Looking over his shoulder, he searches his friends face for any recognition, but there is none. Just blank focus on the task at hand. Bucky doesn't even meet his gaze, just continues to work him open. Another dig into his sweet spot makes him groan.

Rumlow chuckles above him, hand reaching out to stroke his chin. "I take it you like the soldier's touch more than ours. Or else you're just a freak that likes getting fisted."

Steve doesn't respond, just clenches his eyes tight and fights the impulse to give in to this torture. He can't think that the Winter Soldier if Bucky right now. This isn't something that the brunette would ever do to him. This is wrong, terrible. . .

And yet, there is something undeniable curdling in his belly, a heat growing from being filled so completely he can't deny the effects on his body. At least, he never will out loud.

"He's getting hard!" Another STRIKE agent sneers. Sounds like Jenkins, or Marlowe. He can't be sure. There are just too many of them, so many HYDRA agents that had rooted deep into SHIELD and bred like flies. It makes his blood boil.

"Awww, not quite so pure and virginal now, are you, Cap?" Rumlow asks, that calloused hand still rubbing his cheek as the soldier's pace picks up inside him. It's always so ridiculous to him that so many people think such things; of course it's the Captain America image. Nobody wants to think about the things that their country's military mascot has done between the sheets. Still, the misconception gets irritating after awhile. While he's never had a fist up his ass before, it's stupid to assume that he's never had any kind of sex. Very stupid, as the first person he ever messed around with is the one with his hand shoved in him. Grimacing, he pulls away from that touch, and Brock barks another laugh.

Someone laughs behind him. "The asset's not getting any action."

"Yeah, well someone's greedy ass ain't gonna take such a tiny little prick. The fucking Hulk could probably pound him and think it's loose." Rumlow jokes, and Steve winces at the thought.

". . . what if the asset jerked himself off? Inside Rogers?"

Steve stiffens, the thought of any more going into his hole almost too much to bear. Weakly, he struggles, but Rumlow's boot comes down hard on his back, pushing him into the floor.

"You heard him asset. You've been a good boy. You deserve a treat." Rumlow drawls, voice dripping with smugness. The soldier's fingers flex inside him, and he can hear a zipper being unzipped behind him.

He's really going to do it.

The first push inwards is not so terrible, it just stretches him farther than he could have imagined. A moan slips from behind the gag, the feeling indescribable. As Bucky pushes further and further in, the stretch becomes maddening, opening so wide he feels like he's going to split in two. A violent tremor wracks his body, much the the HYDRA agent's amusement.

"Faster." The command comes from Rumlow's mouth like a whip crack, and suddenly the soldier is slamming into him relentlessly, fingers massaging his walls as he jacks himself with a fervor. It hurts, but lacing that pain is a sweet feeling bubbling deep in his core every time Bucky pushes flush to his gaping hole. Despite himself, he whimpers.

Brock leans conspiratorially closer to his ear. "You know Cap, the asset won't come until we tell him to. He could fuck you all day and he wouldn't stop. I wonder what you'd be like at the end of that?"

Steve picks a point on the floor to stare at, trying to find some calm within him, something to help him power through this. He can hear whispering behind him, then laughter. Bucky shifts behind him.

The soldier's hand clamps on his dick, and he cries out through the gag, a touch he hasn't felt in more than seventy years nearly pushing him over the brink. Tears brim behind his eyes. This wasn't the kind of reunion he wanted.

"I think we'll go a little easy on you, this being your first time and all, Cap." Rumlow states glibly, boot still crushing into his back. "Asset, make him come. Then you can have your release."

It doesn't take long after that. Those skilled fingers on him know exactly how to make him explode. He can feel the telltale clench of his balls seconds before he comes. He sees stars, and feels the Winter Soldier's own release coat his insides.

Just like old times. Except for the fist buried in his ass.

Tentatively, he looks over his shoulder, and stills. Those eyes are looking down at him in confusion, looking at him for the first time without a blank gaze. Somebody's home.

He grunts softly behind the gag, as close to the word Bucky that he can form, and the other man's eyes widen. Definitely a flicker of recognition.

"Asset." Brock snaps, and those eyes gaze up to meet Rumlow's gaze. "Get your hand out of there and go have the techs clean you up. сейчас!"

Bucky's face falls again and Steve's heart drops. That blankness is back, the perfect soldier yet again. He slips out of him, then pulls his hand out, none too gently. Steve winces as the metal scraps against his rim. He desperately looks after the other man, but Bucky doesn't look back as he leaves the room.

He can hear Rollins snapping another pic behind him, but he doesn't care anymore. He hurts all over, cold starting to permeate his skin. Rumlow chuckles. "Take a little rest, Cap. You'll find that being HYDRA's personal fuck toy makes you high in demand."