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Party Games

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1993


The band starts up with another smooth jazz number, saxophone notes settling in behind the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Lengths of silk in Hydra red and black drape down, keeping the mellow music from echoing off the reinforced concrete, and dimmed lights hang around the ceiling to replace the harsh glare of the usual fluorescent lights.

Councilman Pierce takes it all in, enjoying the transformation of the bunker while he idly swirls his glass of deep red wine. The whole reorganization business in Russia had prevented these little get-togethers for a time, but Bellman’s people had done an excellent job on this one. He’d have to thank them later.

Pierce’s eyes wander again to the back of the room and he holds the wine glass to his lips, contemplating for a moment before nodding to himself and draining the rest of the wine. He gives the empty glass an appreciative look before setting it down with a soft clink.

Beside him, Agent Rumlow raises his eyebrows, questioning, and Pierce gives him the smallest of nods. Rumlow’s eyes light up and he also knocks back the rest of his drink, pushing his chair back and starting to stand before he even finishes. Pierce puts a hand on his arm to pull him back down to the chair.

Rumlow frowns, but Pierce removes it to reach into his own jacket pocket to pull out a business card case. He pulls out the cards and flips through the stack. Rumlow’s face breaks into a wide grin.

“Oh, it’s been so long since we played this one,” he murmurs, practically purring with delight. The very corner of Pierce’s mouth turns up into a smile, but he’s looking back across the room for another moment before nodding to himself again. Yes, it was time. He stood up, tapping against his glass with a knife, and the guests fell silent at their tables.

They had been expecting this.

“Now that we’ve all had some time to get acquainted, I thought we’d play a little party game,” Pierce says, holding up the stack of cards. The assortment of Hydra’s leading figures breaks into excited whispers, looking over their shoulders toward the figure at the back of the room. Some men grin, others laugh nervously, and the few women attending put their hands up to cover demure smiles that don’t touch their eyes.

Piece gives them all a wide, indulgent smile before gesturing towards the back of the room. The shadowy figure jerks into motion, gliding across the room with a deliberate and powerful grace. The guests whisper more, watching with wide eyes as the Winter Soldier strides past their tables to stop in front of Pierce’s seat, awaiting orders.

Pierce nods, and the Soldier turned to face the crowd.

“I assume I don’t need to explain the rules to you,” Pierce tells the guests as the Soldier began to remove the clasps of his leather jacket, fingers of his left hand clinking against metal clasps. The crowd chuckles on queue, still watching the Soldier with hungry eyes.
“After all, “Pierce smiles as the jacket falls to the floor, “this is everyone’s favorite game.”

 



“Okay, Jensen, let’s see you have a try!”

“Yeah, it’s your first time, see if you can get him out of his pants!”

Urged by his friends, one of the new technicians stands up from his table, shrugging off his suit coat with a shy smile. Someone hands him a card and the crowd leans in to see what the Soldier will do. The first few cards had gotten them the Soldier’s mask, a knife thrown across the room and into the center of the ice sculpture swan’s eye, and a string of hilarious Russian insults about one participant’s mother.

It was all good fun, but the heads of Hydra are interested in a little more action than some pretty knife tricks or parroted name-calling.

This time, they are not disappointed.

“Prachechnaya-ayotmat,” Jensen reads, chuckling, but his smile dies as the Solider moves. As soon as the phrase is read, the assassin drops to his knees so fast that they thud against the floor. The Soldier doesn’t wince, but at the raised table beside him Rumlow’s lips curve into a cruel smile. Jensen just stares down as the Soldier presses his face against the front of his pants, rubbing his cheek against the Jensen’s rapidly hardening cock and looking up at Jensen’s face with wide blue eyes.

“Fuck,” Jensen whispers, finally understanding why everyone loved these parties so much. No one had ever looked so desperate for his cock before. It was exhilarating.

“You scared, Jensen?” someone in the audience yells, and everyone laughs.

“Yeah, take your cock out.”

“He’s gagging for it, Jensen, why don’t you give it to ‘im?”

Jensen jolts back to his senses and fumbles at his zipper, ignoring the crowd’s laughter as he manages to get his erect penis out of his dress slacks. The Soldier is on it instantly, swallowing it down until it hits the back of his throat, caressing it with his tongue the whole way down.

The crowd laughs again, probably at Jensen’s shocked face, but he’s too distracted to care. He struggles to not close his eyes as the Soldier’s tongue – god, what a mouth – runs up and down his cock. He wants to remember this, how the Winter Soldier looks on his knees with his red lips wrapped around Jensen’s cock, head bobbing and cheeks hollowed like he’s getting paid for it.

“You must like that, huh?” Jensen whispers. “You suck cock like a cheap whore, you must have practiced.” Some of his friends at the table overhear him and cheer him on.

“Yeah man, louder, we want to hear it!”

“You gotta share, Jensen, that’s the game.” More laughter.

Jensen glances up at them and grins, starts moving his hips to thrust even farther into the soldier’s hot mouth.

“Yeah, you little slut, how’s my cock feel in your throat? Good? You want some more?” Jensen reaches down and grabs a handful of the Soldier’s hair, pulling him closer to get his cock deeper down that sinful throat.

The wet noises coming from the Soldier’s mouth are taking Jensen closer to orgasm faster than anything has before, the tiny tears forming in the assassin’s bright blue eyes as Jensen’s cock hits the back of his throat are the biggest turn-on Jensen’s ever seen. That wicked tongue keeps working mercilessly up and down, and behind the involuntary tears the Soldier looks almost determined.

Those eyes stay locked on Jensen’s as the Soldier’s tongue circles the tip of his cock and like that Jensen’s coming, groaning as he grabs the Soldier’s head in both hands and jerks his cock in and out of that wet mouth. Jensen forces his eyes open again so he can watch the assassin take his come, so he can picture it sliding down that throat as the Soldier takes it all. The Soldier keeps sucking, eyes still on Jensen’s face, getting every last drop until it becomes too much.

“Whoa, okay, that’s, uh,” Jensen stammers out, taking a step back towards his table. The Soldier leans forward at first, following, but he stops as Jensen’s cock is pulled out of his mouth with a filthy pop.

Pierce watches the tech stumble back to his seat, smiling weakly as his friends slap his shoulders and grin at his disbelieving expression. The Soldier is still kneeling, hands clenched around his thighs, looking utterly unaffected except for the bright red of his lips and a smear of saliva on his cheek that Pierce knows he’s too well-trained to wipe off without permission.

Rumlow shifts in his seat, glancing over at Pierce. Pierce ignores him, eying the brawny bald agent approaching his table.
“Agent Ivanov,” Pierce greets, handing a card across the table with another generous smile.

The agent smirks back, one hand already unzipping his pants as he saunters over to the Soldier. The crowd jeers as Ivanov pulls out his half-hard cock and jerks himself a few times, rubbing its length across the Soldier’s cheek. The Soldier keeps his eyes locked on Ivanov’s, motionless as the tip of the agent’s cock pushes between his lips.

“You ready for another, big boy?” Ivonov croons, and some of the other guests throw back their heads in laughter. The world’s deadliest assassin at this joker’s mercy, on his knees with a dick in his mouth? The crowd is in stitches.

Ivanov’s smirk grows at the sound of laughter, and he licks his lips before reading the card.

“Ochistka na prokhode tri, ha, that’s-”

The Winter Soldier surges to his feet, grabbing Ivonov’s neck and lifting him off the ground in one smooth motion. He keeps looking Ivonov in the eyes, even as the Soldier’s metal arm twists and there’s the loud snap of a breaking neck.

The Soldier’s hand releases and Ivonov’s limp body falls to the ground. Feet apart, arm falling back to his side with a soft whirring sound of readjusting machinery, the Soldier silently awaits his orders.

The crowd goes wild.



Several rounds later and the party’s really started.

Suit coats and pants hang from chairs, the tables abandoned as the leaders of Hydra stand in a circle to watch the festivities. Agent Rollins is lying on his back, grinning as he watches the Winter Soldier crawl up to straddle his hips. The Soldier braces himself with his metal hand on the ground, using his other hand to hold Rollins’s dick up as he crouches.

Slowly, the Soldier sinks down, only a sharp exhale proving that he’s even felt the hard cock entering him.

The metal hand moves off the floor and lands on Rollins’s neck, tightening just enough that Rollins can feel his own pulse against it.

One of the guests swears and moves toward the back of the circle, hand frantically working at his own erection as he slips through the crowd.

The metal hand remains as the Soldier begins to move, dragging himself slowly up and down Rollins’s cock, eyes never leaving the agent’s face. Rollins is transfixed.

“Hey, you gonna fuck ‘im, or just let ‘im do all the work?” One of his friends kicks at his feet.

“Ain’t that the point?” Rollins grunts, relishing the slow slide of his dick up into the Winter Soldier’s ass. Who wouldn’t? Those sharp, unblinking eyes are getting a little weird, though. Rollins begins to thrust up into the Soldier, hoping to distract him enough to look away.

The Soldier does not look away. As Rollins’s pace increases, the tighter the metal hand’s grip on his neck becomes. The Soldier keeps staring, looking right into Rollins’s eyes as he grinds his hips up and down, matching every thrust.

“C’mon, man, do something more.”

“Yeah, slap his ass!” yells an encouraging voice from the crowd.

“Tell him he’s pretty,” someone in the back hollers, and even Rollins has to grin at that, grabbing hold of the Soldier’s muscular ass and giving it a few solid smacks that turn into bright pink handprints. He speeds up his pace, using his hands on the Soldier’s hips to pull down and force his cock in further.

The Soldier’s grip on Rollins’s neck tightens again, forcing the agent to face those hard, empty eyes. Rollins thinks of the dead bodies they’d pulled out of the circle already and feels a stab of cold fear run through him.

His pace falters. The Soldier uses the grip on his neck for leverage to pound down on his cock harder, more deliberately, and Rollins is terrified.
He’s also desperately hard.

The Soldier comes down again, taking every inch of Rollins’s cock, and Rollins is suddenly filling that ass with come right then and there.
The crowd of Hydra agents cheers.

When one enterprising young woman steps in and grabs hold of the Soldier’s hair, dragging him back and then shoving his face down onto Rollins’s dripping cock, the crowd cheers even louder.



“Yes, we’ll have to do it again soon,” Pierce chuckles, shaking the Russian ambassador’s hand. The other man smiles and shakes his head is disbelief again, looking back across the room as he turns to leave.

Some wet gagging sounds drift across the bunker, but Pierce ignores them. So do most of the other guests.

“You do good work, Councilman. You take care now.”

Another senior operative approaches him, and Pierce is occupied with pleasantries for a few more minutes before a sharp slap interrupts the sharply dressed woman before him.

Pierce follows her gaze to where Rumlow stands above a kneeling Winter Soldier, holding a gun to the assassin’s temple as he buries his cock deep in his throat. Tears leak from the Soldier’s eyes as Rumlow pulls him down by his hair, teardrops mixing with the come several other agents had left on his face during the festivities. One of the other remaining agents pushes the Soldier forward, lining his cock up with an ass turned bright pink from slaps.

“Hm,” the woman grunts, uninterested, turning back to ask about operations in Chile.

Business as usual.



2014


The first time Steve says anything suggestive to Bucky in public, they are at the grocery store. They’re wearing nondescript sweatshirts and Steve’s got a baseball cap on, trying to buy some produce like normal people for once, and Steve goes and makes some innocuous comment about how large bananas are nowadays.

Like that, Bucky’s on his knees, reaching for Steve’s pants zipper and looking up at him with wide blue eyes and parting those beautiful lush lips.
Steve quickly crouches down, pulling a confused Bucky to his feet, loudly joking about how clumsy he is and furtively looking around to see if there were any witnesses.

“What the hell was that?” He hisses, dragging Bucky towards the cereal aisle.

“What, sir?” Bucky’s eyes are still wide and Steve eyes are definitely not drawn to those red, red lips.

“What do you mean, ‘what’, you looked like you were trying to blow me in a public grocery store!” A middle-aged woman looks up at that and Steve smiles politely at her, grabbing Bucky’s arm and pulling him farther down the aisle.

Bucky looks up at him, looking lost and helpless, and Steve is only slightly aroused.

Slightly.

“But,” Bucky stops, licking his lips and looking away for a second before continuing. “Isn’t it rude of us to keep doing it in private where no one else can watch?”

After a second of shocked silence Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, petting his hair and whispering that it’s all right, that’s not how things have to be with him, but his mind is somewhere else. Bucky nods slowly, processing, still a little confused.

They leave soon after that. When they get home, Steve locks himself in the bathroom and comes after just a few strokes, muffling his cry with one hand.
He’d never been able to resist Bucky when they were younger, no matter what he asked, but now that he could say one order and have Bucky practically begging for his cock?

Steve is going to hell.



A few days later, when Bucky comes into his room, Steve casually says something about bananas being larger nowadays, still not sure if even wants this to work.

Bucky drops, knees banging against the floor, eyes suddenly wide and begging. His lips part. They look plush and moist, absolutely sinful.

Steve steps forward, and Bucky’s hands are reaching to pull down Steve’s zipper and unbutton his pants. Steve holds back for a second, just out of reach, but Bucky’s face looks so desperate and needy that he takes one more step so Bucky can reach.

Steve is definitely going to hell.

Bucky had Steve’s pants down in seconds and eagerly wraps his lips around Steve’s stiffening cock. Steve gasps as his dick hits the back of Bucky’s mouth, surrounded by wet warmth and a skillful tongue. Bucky’s head bobs, cheeks sucking in as he enthusiastically takes Steve all the way down.
After a few moments, Steve reaches down to tangle his hand in Bucky’s hair, holding him back. Bucky struggles to reach Steve’s cock, straining forward even as tears spring to his eyes from the pulling on his hair.

Bucky whimpers, turning his gorgeous eyes back to Steve’s face, perfect lips pouting.

“Open up,” Steve orders and Bucky quickly obeys, holding still as Steve slides his cock into that clever mouth.

Steve wraps a little more of Bucky’s hair into his fist and begins to move, pulling Bucky’s head forward with every thrust of his hips.

“You love this, don’t you? You’ve wanted this so badly,” Steve grunts, driving his cock down Bucky’s throat. Bucky tries to nod, unable to speak around Steve’s dick.

“Little slut. Dirty little slut.” Steve yanks on Bucky’s hair, forcing his head back even further.

More tears spring from Bucky’s eyes, but he looks so damn happy about it that Steve finds his hips snapping forward with more force than he intended and now Bucky’s gagging on his cock. He’s never heard a more beautiful sound so he keeps going, savoring how Bucky’s tongue struggles to keep up and how even that metal hand is fluttering against Steve’s hip, torn between encouraging the vicious thrusts and stopping them.

When Bucky’s eyes finally squeeze shut Steve comes, holding Bucky’s head still and jerking his hips until every drop has been swallowed down Bucky’s raw throat. He pulls out with a groan, stumbling back a few steps on shaking legs to collapse onto his bed. Bucky stays kneeling on the floor, looking dazed with saliva dripping from his chin.

“Oh, fuck, c’mere, we’re done for now,” Steve pants, gesturing, and Bucky blinks a few times. He shakes his head, then reaches up to wipe the mess off his face. He stares at his wet sleeve for a moment before shaking his head again, clearing it, before getting up to join Steve on the bed.

Bucky sits down, carefully sets his hands on his legs, and looks up at Steve with a serious expression.

“Thank you, sir.”

Steve feels heat start to pool in his cock again at that, so he reaches down to jerk himself a few times. Bucky’s eyes go wide and needy again as Steve stands up, still fondling his own half-hard cock.

“This time, get on all fours.”

“Yes, sir.”