Commander Rumlow
@precise-desolation has sent in a meme: ☠
“I’ve got a party tonight. I want you to be the
‘special entertainment’, if you get my drift.”
The words are sharp, a darker tone to the mans
voice that showed some form of pleasure rising
deep in his gut, one that would probably make
things worse for the soldier. The tone usually
signified odd work, work that would take, take,
take, and never give.
It was a tone of authority, a voice that would take
everything in its wake and not ever give more than
a pat on the head and maybe a shower if the soldier
was lucky enough.
“and? What do you say, huh?”
The tone is gone, like it had never been there, completely
disappeared from him, like a dream. Or a nightmare.
A hand is raised, reaching to take a handful of unwashed
hair, yanking back and exposing the meaty throat of the
soldier at his feet.
“louder. I wanna hear you.”
He could feel it from the thrusts Brock was giving off that he was going to be DONE soon, which only encouraged the asset to be better. His tongue kept swirling around the tip before he sucked,
so so eager to please, glancing up when the other announced his peak. Suddenly his mouth was empty, head pulled away and for a second he was worried he’d done something wrong before he felt the warmth on his face, eyes closing as he waited for the commander to be done. The moan formed a small smile, eyes opening again to see the aftermath relaxation on his handler.The asset obeyed immediately, moving to his feet and pulling the pants DOWN along with his underwear, settling them by his ankles. His eyes drifted down to Brock’s manhood, licking his lips to get the last bits of the taste it left in his mouth. ❝ Do you want me to turn around and bend over? ❞ he spoke, voice raw as it hadn’t been used for long, eyes returning back to the man’s face as his hand absentmindedly reached out to brush his fingers along Brock’s jaw, a sort of a mimic of the previous gentle handling.
Fingers run along his length slow, just barely touching
the hot, achey member there, trying to coax it to hardness
again. Eyes drop to the hands pushing down clothes and
they move back up with the sound of his raw voice, a
small smirk pulling at his relaxed features.‴you been stretched out today?‴
His hand comes up to catch Winter’s, eyes sweeping
over his face, hand closing around his.‴I ain’t gonna fuck ya unless you’ve been stretched out today.
You know I hate hurtin’ ya.‴His voice is a little softer now, hand bringing the soldiers
ow hand down, urging the weapon to stroke Rumlow’s
member.
The Asset stilled lightly when he felt the TIGHT GRIP on his hair, moving slightly more obviously to let the handler pick up his pace. His mouth was wrapped tight around him, teeth hidden not to hurt him until he heard a n o t h e r praise. He wanted to bring Brock to the edge, hear him moan, even if he shouldn’t. Somehow, he enjoyed not being the one to break the rules, yet being the one who caused the other to go over the line.
Once his hair was free, the Asset leaned BACK so his lips were only around the tip, sucking hard as his hand made up for the lack of his mouth along the shaft, staying like that for a while before he took him in whole again, letting the tip hit the back of his throat for a few times before repeating the whole act ALL OVER AGAIN.
The Asset was goin’ at this like a goddamn
race against time. And fuck, he was making
it good even then. The more he kept it up, the
more he was sure he was gonna fucking BURST.
Groaning, Rumlow dips his head back, hips moving
along with the rhythm the Asset set for him, just rocking
to the oddly quick beat.
‴fuck—fuck, kid….I’m gonna fuckin’ come.‴
His voice is low, his tone beginning to get harsh as he
nears the edge of his release. That motion killing him slow.
It’s only a few more motions and Brock yanks the soldier back,
hand taking a tight GRIP of his hair. Hand on his cock, he jerks
himself a few times, come spurting over the soldiers face in wet
streaks. A prize for being good.
But fuck, he would have to clean this up…
Huffing and panting, Brock releases a soft moan as little
aftershocks run down his spine from the pleasure, his body
leaning back against the door.
‴Stand up. Pants down.‴
He huffs, shifting for a moment and stroking himself to get
hard again, little bursts of pain happening from being so
oversensitive now.
‴I want ‘em down around yer ankles, along with yer underwear.‴