Work Text:
“Gentlemen, have a seat,” General Ross said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. “This will be brief; we have a situation brewing just outside Budapest, and the Council would like your eyes on it.”
Barnes flipped through the pages Ross passed over, skimming them. “This looks a little out of our wheelhouse,” he said after a moment. “Can we bring Zemo? I know he’s likely to have contacts in the area, and he’s due for a hit of fresh air.”
Sam shuffled his own papers back into a neat pile and nodded in agreement. “He would make this process a lot smoother, General.”
“No, I have him occupied with another task at the moment.” He met Barnes’ eyes, cool as anything. “He’ll do his job, and you’ll do yours. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” Sam said, standing and saluting, crisply correct. Ross continued to stare at Barnes, who took his time getting up and did not salute.
“Are we clear, Barnes?”
Barnes just narrowed his eyes a fraction. “Yeah.”
Ross watched them leave, briefing packets in hand, off to save the world again. Fighting the good fight against the bad people. He leaned his chair back, looking down at one of those bad people, currently naked and cuffed and warming his cock.
“Overplayed your hand, General,” Zemo said, flicking his eyes up to Ross before lowering them again. He lapped slowly up the shaft, taking his time the way Ross liked it, hating that he knew the man well enough to know what gave him pleasure. Hating even more that he knew it was in his best interest to give him that pleasure. “Quite sure James knew I was in the room.”
Ross stroked the back of Zemo’s head as he sank down, sighing deep when the spongy head pushed past his tonsils and descended into his throat.
“Of course he did, you think I’m an idiot?” He hummed in satisfaction when Zemo began to choke, and kept his hand firmly on Zemo’s neck, holding him down, smiling as the irritating little terrorist convulsed. “I wanted to see what he’d do. And do you know what he did, Colonel?” Ross purred, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking Zemo up, relishing the wet, gasping coughs. He leaned down, lips brushing Zemo’s ear.
“Not one. Damn. Thing.”
He smiled at the helpless fury burning up at him, and shoved his cock back down his prisoner’s throat.
~ ~ ~ • ~ ~ ~
Ross didn’t use him often, all things considered.
Hayworth, however…
Zemo ground his teeth, hands white-knuckled on the bars of his bed as the bulky guard pounded inexpertly into his ass. The man fucked like it was on a to-do list.
- 8pm, Check Cameras.
- 9pm, Bang Prisoner B24.
- 10pm, Take a Piss.
He knew Ross let this happen on purpose. If Ross was the only one using him, then Zemo might get it into his head that he was special. That he could manipulate Ross, get favors, lull him into a false sense of security. Instead, Zemo was the pillow princess of cell block B, nearly every guard getting a… how did Latimer put it? A ‘taste of his peach,’ yes, that was the horrid phrase.
At least Latimer knew what a prostate was. Hayworth continued to mindlessly piston away, churning Zemo’s guts into a smoothie at the rate he was going. Zemo rolled his eyes when the grunts began turning high-pitched. At least it meant this was going to be over in approximately thirty seconds.
Yes, there it was. Three or four juddering thrusts, then a long groan. He was glad of the condom—the last thing Zemo wanted was to feel the evidence of his rape slithering out and making a mess.
The men didn’t acknowledge each other with so much as a glance as pants were pulled up and clothing put to rights; Zemo flopped back down on his bed and returned to his book, and Hayworth exited his cell, the magnetized locks on the door hissing closed behind him.
That’s how his rapes went, more often than not. Casual, routine, impersonal.
Too impersonal. Zemo stared unseeing at the text running across the page. Was it odd to wish his rapists would kiss him sometimes? Fuck face-to-face instead of pounding from behind? Look at him while he sucked them off?
Like Ross did.
That thought jolted him slightly. Ross enjoyed watching Zemo work his cock. He preferred having Zemo facing him when he got fucked. He maintained eye contact in a way that made Zemo feel even more naked, the humiliation burning over his skin, unable to hide how Ross’ cock made him feel, because the General actually knew how to hit the angles that made Zemo moan.
Like the way he moaned now, palming the cock that had been soft while Hayworth hammered away, but now hardened to think about Ross.
Fuck.
He hated Ross. Hated him.
Hips rolled upwards, sliding against the hand firmly held down.
Smug little fucker. Always knowing the worst thing to say at the right time.
Cockhead weeping from the tip, palm smoothing the moisture down in a slick glide.
Or the right thing to say at the worst time.
Fingers gripping just a little too hard, making it so painful… so good.
He hated the way that gravelly voice made demands, knowing they’d be obeyed.
Stroking faster, waiting until the pleasure rose and stopping before it peaked.
He hated the way Ross made him feel shame for getting off at all. Like Ross had nothing to do with it, it was just Zemo being a fucking horny slut for his rapes.
Fist jerking hard under his pants, letting it crest…
What if he kissed me—
Zemo gasped, the unbidden, unwelcome thought sending him arching off the bed, spilling his release over his hand, feeling it splatter up his belly. His toes curled, chest heaving… and then he turned, cradling the softening mess of his cock in his filthy hand, unbidden tears soaking his pillow as the shame and self-hate flooded in.
Getting off to your rapist? Seriously? You fucking piece of shit…
Nauseous, he silently cried himself to sleep, as he often did these days.
~ ~ ~ • ~ ~ ~
“Ross is fucking Zemo.”
Sam spit his coffee. “Jesus, warn a guy before you start tossing that shit out.” He wiped off the tablet in his hand. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Bucky shrugged. “Ross is fucking Zemo, what else do you want me to say?”
“How do you know this?”
“He was under the desk at our last briefing, sucking Ross off.”
“WHAT.” Sam looked equal parts baffled and horrified. “How… what… how do you…”
Bucky took a bite of his bagel and shrugged again. “Fooperfoldier hewin.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, what did they teach you in the twenties?”
He swallowed. “Sell your stock before October 1929?”
Sam snickered at that. Then he sobered, brow furrowing. “So you heard Zemo giving a blowie? That’s… specific of you.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “Does it make it better or worse to say I could smell him too?”
“La la la la I don’t need the gory details, fine, I believe you.” Sam picked at his croissant. “So… what do we do about it?”
“Do we need to do anything about it?” Bucky asked quietly, adding milk to his coffee with studied concentration and not looking at Sam.
He sighed. “You wouldn’t have told me if you didn’t think so,” he answered, just as quietly. “What’s your plan?”
Bucky pulled out his notebook.
~ ~ ~ • ~ ~ ~
“They really want you out of here,” Ross mused, cupping the distended cheek below him. He held up a piece of paper. “This is the fourth request in a month for your presence on their latest op. They keep insisting you would be a valuable member of their team.” He slid the edge of the paper over Zemo’s temple, opening up a line of red. The pained moan was muffled, but it provided a delightful vibration to his cock so he made another, longer cut on the man’s forehead. “I think we will need to disabuse them of that notion, hmm? You’re much more valuable right here, aren’t you.”
He stroked Zemo’s hair with a fond tenderness that he knew would get under his prisoner’s skin. Yes, there was the first tear, sliding down a cheek now hollowing out with exquisite suction.
“So good for me,” Ross murmured, swiping the moisture away with his thumb. “This is where you belong, isn’t it? Look at you, you’re a natural at being on your knees.”
Zemo looked up at him with murder in his reddened eyes; clearly wanting him dead but unable to stop worshipping the cock in his mouth. He bared his teeth, digging ever so slightly into the flesh they surrounded. Ross tilted his head, mildly curious at the insubordination, almost daring Zemo to carry out his threat.
He watched Zemo slowly lose the battle of wills, the murderous fire subsiding down into burning coals, the unpleasant knowledge that he was not the one with the power in this situation poisoning his resolve. Lowering his eyes, he went back to laving the thick, throbbing veins on Ross’ cock with his tongue.
“There’s a good boy.” He savored the minute wince flashing over Zemo’s face, the smallest clench of impotent fists. “Is it time for you to bend over for me, Colonel?”
Zemo lapped kittenish licks at the split on his glans. “As you so often tell me, General, it’s cute you think I have a choice in the matter.”
“Mm. It is, isn’t it.” Ross gripped Zemo’s arm and hauled him up, shoving the man backwards over his desk. Zemo leaned up on his elbows, soft belly rippling and clenching with the effort to balance on the edge of the wood.
“I think it’s maybe time for you to start asking for it.” He stood calmly, stroking the inside of Zemo’s thigh, but not making any movements to push him open. He nodded at the flushed, stiff cock rising between them, bobbing slightly with Zemo’s heartbeat. “You clearly want it, so let’s hear you ask, Colonel.”
Zemo lay back and spread his thighs silently, hooking his fingers behind his knees to keep himself open. Ross reached into a drawer and pulled out a cigarette, watching the display with detached interest. After a moment of no reaction, Zemo huffed impatiently, pulling himself wider.
Ross shook his head, blowing out a stream of smoke. “I can’t hear you, Colonel,” the General barked out.
“Please,” Zemo muttered, half choking on the word.
“Please what?”
Ross smiled at the growl. The fury in those brown eyes was delicious. He shrugged and waved his hand in a go on gesture. For good measure, he took himself in hand and slowly nudged his cockhead under the soft ballsack, pressing to Zemo’s perineum. “Come on, use your words, Helmut.”
God, it made it so much worse to hear his given name on Ross’ lips. Colonel was bad enough, Colonel made him painfully aware of his status as a prisoner of war that Zemo did not. But to hear Ross say Helmut soft and gentle like that, like he was a fucking child…
Cool fingers wrapped around his blood-hot cock and his hips jerked up automatically. The grip was too loose to accomplish anything, but tight enough to be unignorable.
“Please,” he gritted out, hating how tight his chest felt, how close to tears he was. Please stop asking me to ask and just do it.
“Look at you,” Ross said again, slowly dragging his fingers up and down Zemo’s cock, teasing it with the promise of a hand job without really delivering one. “I can see how desperate you are, so why not just ask me for what you want?”
When a thumb caught on the sensitive rim of his hole, something inside Zemo snapped.
“Fuck you,” he growled, and kicked out at Ross. Briefly satisfied when his foot connected with the man’s stomach, Zemo flipped himself off the desk and stalked to the door.
He knew it was stupid; he was fucking naked, where the hell did he expect to go? So he allowed himself to be wrestled to the floor by the two guards immediately rushing through the door as soon as Ross hit the panic button under his desk.
“Mr. Latimer, Mr. Keller,” Zemo said coolly, nodding at them as they wrenched him to his feet, securing his hands behind his back and chaining his ankles together for good measure. The calm, smug little smile on Ross’ face made Zemo want to scream. Asshole. It was all the worse as he stood naked and disheveled while the man he knew still had his cock out sat primly behind his desk. “You will escort Prisoner B24 back to his cell—unless he would like to complete his extremely simple task?” Ross tilted his head in a way that made Zemo understand just why it irritated James so.
“Fine.”
“Very well, make your request.”
He tensed. “They don’t need to be here for this.”
“The only people here you need to concern yourself with are you and me, Colonel. So say it, or else you will have company tonight.”
Zemo could hear Keller inhale slowly near his ear, and shuddered. Annoying enough to be humiliated in private, but infinitely worse with an overly-eager audience. Especially those two. Most guards just fucked him because he was a freely accessible hole and they either missed their significant others or were bored of their hand. But Keller and Latimer fucked him like it was their life’s dearest mission to be his punishment detail.
He shuddered again to think Ross was the kinder option.
The General just kept looking at him with that same mild expression.
“Say it.”
Zemo briefly imagined a gun in his hand, a spray of blood decorating the wall behind Ross’ chair as the corpses on either side of him dropped to the floor. “Please fuck me.”
“One more time, Colonel. Properly, please.”
“Please fuck me, Sir, I would love nothing more than to be filled up,” Zemo snapped, unable to get a salute off with his arms being held, but clicking his heels and standing at attention anyway.
Ross let the ensuing silence stretch on for just a little too long, then smiled, nodding at the guards.
“Well, you heard the man, gentlemen,” he said. “Have the rest of the night off and enjoy your evening with him.”
The look of humiliated betrayal bursting over Zemo’s face as he was manhandled out of Ross’ office was almost as satisfying as the orgasm he might have had inside Zemo’s ass. Roars of anger echoed off the halls as he was dragged back to his cell, bare cock wobbling between freckled thighs and not as soft as he was sure Zemo wished it were.
Ross looked at the paper in his hand, smirking. He turned on his shredder and poured a shot of bourbon as the harsh grinding of gears destroyed the heartfelt, well-spoken plea to let Zemo join an op he would, Ross had to admit, be perfect for.
He flipped on the camera to Zemo’s cell and leaned back in his chair, giving his cock a long, slow stroke as he waited for the show to begin.
“I’m afraid he’s much too useful to me here, gentlemen,” he murmured after a few minutes, listening to the sounds of a terrorist getting what he asked for.