Chapter Text
The backhand sends him stumbling to the floor, blood dripping out of the cut on his cheek. He touches it numbly, feeling it already swell from the impact of his father’s ring.
“Useless,” Heinrich rages, pacing the office in a towering rage. “Absolutely useless. An omega? What am I supposed to do with an omega for a son?”
Zemo stays on the floor, unsure if standing up would be better or worse. He hadn’t thought about his gender much, but clearly his father was expecting an alpha son like himself. When Zemo had presented as an omega earlier today, he hadn’t been ready for the derision and near hate in his father’s eyes.
Heinrich continues pacing, muttering and yelling to himself about Zemo’s absolute failure to be born an omega as if Zemo had anything to do with it. Zemo watches him apprehensively. It’s not like he can magically become an alpha, no matter what Heinrich wants. The way he’s throwing back whiskey makes Zemo want to escape the office, but much like a prey animal he’s frozen on the ground.
The sudden silence when Heinrich stops dead mid-mutter only ratchets up Zemo’s tension. Heinrich smiles. Nothing good has ever followed that smile, and Zemo chews on his lip as his father grabs his phone.
“I’ve found a solution,” Heinrich says into the phone without greeting whoever he’s talking to. He eyes Zemo like he’s an object he’s suddenly found a use for. “Bring it over. This will keep it under control.”
***
Zemo slips out of the office under Heinrich’s watchful and possessive gaze. His father suddenly seems pleased with him. His cheek is still smarting from the hit - it’s far from the first time Heinrich has hit him, but he doesn’t usually go for the face. This’ll definitely bruise, even with the ice Zemo holds to it.
Cars rumble up the drive and Zemo hides in the hall above the foyer, curious who his father called. It has something to do with him, and he needs to know what, or at least needs to see some of what’s happening. Doors slam, loud voices bark orders that he can hear even through the closed door. Heinrich strides out of his office and swings the doors open, greeting the officers outside. They sound pleased, maybe even excited, and Zemo’s stomach sinks a little more.
They file into the hallway, heading for the library and Zemo recognizes most of them. Everything looks normal until the last two silhouettes step into the hall. One is an officer he’s never seen before, which isn’t that strange. What is strange is what’s on the other end of the leather leash he’s holding. A man, big and strong and wearing black leather combat gear. His hair is dark and greasy, shoulder length and hiding his face from Zemo. His left arm looks like it’s armored, but it shifts as the man follows his handler and Zemo realizes it’s his actual arm. This stranger has a metal arm, and he’s completely docile following the much smaller officer yanking him along by the collar.
There’s a muffled sound behind him and Zemo barely starts to turn when something stings his neck and he blacks out.
***
The world takes its time coming back into focus. He blinks, the blur sharpening into his own room. Zemo groans and tries to shake his head clear, but he can only tip it to the side. Metal digs into his wrists painfully. More of his situation registers. He’s on his belly on his bed, his arms stretched out in front of him and handcuffed to the bed frame. He tries to rattle them and his fingers barely twitch.
The air is cool against his bare skin and goosebumps run up his back. He’s been stripped while he was unconscious, laid on the bed and his legs are slightly spread. He’s not sure if it’s on purpose or just how they dropped him, and he’s not sure which is worse. The low voices in the room come closer, surrounding him and he can only see some parts of their uniforms from where his head lies.
“Ah, he’s waking up, let’s get on with this before it wears off entirely,” one of the men says.
“He’ll stay put,” Heinrich says confidently, and Zemo’s not sure he’s right this time.
“Regardless, it’ll be easier if he can’t move.”
There’s a chorus of agreement and a flush of anger and embarrassment builds on Zemo’s face. They don’t seem to care though, he’s a tool for some purpose that he still doesn’t understand.
“Get the soldier on him,” one of them barks. “We need it under control now.”
Zemo can feel a little more of his head and neck now, and he manages to shift until he can see the group of officers and the man in black standing silently. Half his face is obscured by a muzzle-like mask, and his eyes seem disturbingly blank and empty. If this is out of control, Zemo doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen.
The soldier's handler orders him to strip in Russian - Zemo’s still learning Russian, but he knows enough to understand those commands. The man strips efficiently, leaving his mask on and not disturbing the collar or leash. His body is heavy with muscle, pale and unscarred except around the joint of his metal arm. Zemo’s eyes are pulled unwillingly to his cock hanging between his legs, soft but still large.
“It’s not reacting,” one of the officers says irritably. “Fix it.”
“I’m not jerking it off,” the handler snaps.
“Shouldn’t it react to the omega?” another wonders. “Is it broken?”
“Slick will probably get it interested,” Heinrich says briskly, his voice nearing the bed next to Zemo’s side.
Zemo can’t move his body, but he can feel every single inch of it. The roughness of his father’s hands pulling his legs wider, the fingertips digging into the meat of his ass and pulling him open. The dry and painful shove of a wide finger inside his untouched hole, twisting and pushing deeper, business-like and invading and so much worse for how impersonal it is.
Heinrich makes a pleased noise and Zemo can’t stifle a sound of surprise when the finger drags against something inside him, sending a strange not-quite pleasurable bolt of electricity up his spine. The finger rubs the spot ruthlessly and Zemo’s hole feels like it's getting wetter and easier and loosening up around it. Heinrich shoves a second finger into him and Zemo’s ass opens up so easily for it and he’s filled with sudden hate for his body’s betrayal. He can’t do anything, the pressure and stimulation makes him leak more and more until the slick is coating his thighs and the bed under him.
“Is that good?” Heinrich asks, not stopping his movements.
“Yeah,” the handler says. “It’s interested.”
Zemo blinks his eyes open, not sure when he closed them. The soldier swims into focus, fully hard and something nearly alive in his blank eyes as he stares hungrily at Zemo on the bed. His father pulls his fingers out of Zemo and Zemo hates the empty feeling he’s left with, unwanted but desperate. He’s not hard at all, not turned on, but his hole continues leaking at the scent of an aroused alpha nearby.
He doesn’t hear the orders the handler snaps, too focused on the way the bed dips and creaks under the soldier’s weight as he climbs between Zemo’s spread thighs. He tries fruitlessly to move again, but all he manages is a slight twitch of his fingers. The drug is wearing off slowly, but he knows that even if it wore off completely, he’s not going anywhere. He’d still rather be able to fight instead of lying here helplessly.
His thighs are nudged even wider by the soldier’s knees, and the large hot body blankets him. The silver arm blocks the rest of the room from his sight and he’s not sure if it's a blessing or a curse. The soldier’s cock nudges against him, sliding up and over his hole a few times without finesse before catching on his loosened rim. The soldier groans and shoves into Zemo in one strong thrust, his sharp hips digging into Zemo’s skin. Zemo barely bites back the noise of pain at the way he’s spread over the far too large cock.
The soldier doesn’t seem to register him, fucking him like a machine and chasing his own orgasm at the orders of his handler. The experience is nearly surreal, like a nightmare he might wake up from at any minute but Zemo knows it’s far too real. The soldier’s hands fist in the sheets, tearing through them like tissue paper. His knot is swelling and catching on Zemo’s rim and the soldier hesitates with it just outside of his hole.
“Knot him,” the handler orders.
The soldier whimpers and shoves it into Zemo, nearly too big to make it into him but the power in his thrust forces it in and locks them together. Zemo had thought he’d been spread wide before, but the knot is even bigger and still increasing and Zemo has no idea how it’s going to fit inside him without tearing him in half. He hides his pained noise in the sheets, and only the soldier on top of him notices. There’s the barest pause in his movement before he resumes grinding into Zemo, filling him with so much cum it’s nearly painful.
“Bite him,” the handler says.
Zemo tries to fight at that, tries to do anything but his body still won’t respond, and he’s completely pinned and knotted by the overly strong alpha on top of him. Hot breath brushes his nape, teeth skimming lightly over the skin.
“ Bite him, ” the handler orders again, anger at the soldier’s hesitance promising punishment for disobedience.
The soldier whines and Zemo cries out as teeth sink into the back of his neck, breaking the skin and forcing him into the permanent mate-bond. He hadn’t had any illusions of being able to choose his mate, but he’d expected something less brutal than this.
A finger runs across his neck and the soldier’s teeth release.
“Good,” the man says appreciatively.
Zemo waits for more terrible orders, not sure what’s left to take from him but sure they’ll manage something. The officers and the handler are talking and laughing and ignoring him and the soldier, voices getting more distant until they’re cut off with the slam of the door.
The room is silent other than the soldier’s heavy breathing against Zemo’s neck. The tongue gently cleaning the mate mark makes him want to throw up but he still can’t move. He’s not sure how long he’s trapped there, knotted and paralyzed and pinned, but it feels like forever until the pressure inside him starts to lessen.
It’s another eternity until the soldier softens and slides out of Zemo’s hole along with a gush of cum, still nosing at his neck. Zemo can finally feel his body again and he twists, trying to throw the soldier off and yanking at the cuffs until his skin breaks.
“Get off,” he snarls desperately, and is startled when the soldier rolls off him immediately.
He looks up and the soldier is staring at him blankly, only the smallest flicker of thought in those flat blue eyes. It’s unnerving, and Zemo wants to get away and hide and wash the filth off of him and pretend this never happened. He struggles with the cuffs again, starting to panic when he can’t get them off.
The silver hand wrapping around the chain startles him to stillness. The fingers flex and the chain breaks easily, Zemo’s hands dropping to the bed. He stares at the soldier who stares back, eyes focused on Zemo like he’s waiting for something. Zemo scrambles off the other side of the bed so fast he falls on his back. The soldier is suddenly there, reaching for him and Zemo kicks at his hand.
“Get away,” Zemo orders, high pitched and scared of what the soldier is going to do to him without an audience.
The soldier flinches and steps back, hands hanging at his sides. Zemo stares.
“Stay there,” he says mostly firmly, levering himself up with the bed and creeping along the wall towards the bathroom.
He watches the soldier the whole time, and the soldier just looks at him, standing exactly where Zemo told him to stay. Zemo slams and locks the bathroom door behind him, knowing the soldier could get through if he wanted, but right now the space is what he needs. Everything has gone sideways so fast and he’s scrambling to keep up. He turns the shower on so hot it burns his skin cherry red, scrubbing hard as though he can erase the touch of the soldier and the memory of the past hour.
Zemo doesn’t leave the shower until he’s sure every molecule of scent is off of him, doing his best to wash all of the cum out of his ass. He dresses carefully, hiding the fresh bite under a high collared shirt. Everyone knows it’s there, they all saw it happen, they all watched him get raped and forcibly mated to this automaton, but he doesn’t have to let anyone see the actual mark.
The soldier is still standing in the same spot Zemo left him, naked and messy. He frowns.
“Get dressed,” he says.
The soldier immediately pulls all of his combat gear on, adjusting the numerous buckles and straps until he looks exactly like he did before Zemo’s life went to hell. There’s something interesting about this rising in the back of his head, but it’s too formless for Zemo to identify it. He lets it settle and grow, knowing it’ll coalesce eventually.
***
He starts to hate the soldier, not only for biting him, but for how unrelentingly pathetic he is. He trails Zemo like a lost puppy, eyes big and wounded when Zemo snaps at him or ignores him. He’s entirely helpless, and Zemo resents that he has to order the soldier to do everything all the time. Someone - HYDRA - did a number on him, and Zemo doesn’t understand why they want such a helpless creature. It seems worthless to him.
Zemo orders him to stand by the wall in rooms to keep him away, otherwise the soldier has a tendency to lean in closer and closer until Zemo has to shove him away. Heinrich doesn’t care at all. He watches Zemo’s interactions with the soldier and seems neutral or pleased depending. Zemo’s not sure what he’s looking for, but he’s glad he doesn’t have to deal with his father in another rage as well as the soldier.
“Finally you’re useful,” Heinrich says one day when Zemo forcibly parks the soldier by the wall again with just a look. “I’m hosting a dinner tomorrow. I expect you to attend and keep the soldier under control.”
“Yes, sir,” Zemo says, hiding the depths of his hate under faux complacency. He hasn’t figured out his revenge yet, but he knows one day he’ll get it. He can be patient.
At the dinner, he’s talked over and ignored like a dog, and the soldier standing silently behind him similarly. Zemo hates them all, even more than he resents the soldier. The way they talk about the soldier actually lessens his resentment, and piques his curiosity. As far as Zemo’s aware, the soldier is weirdly useless, but the way these officers are talking, he’s a deadly weapon that they lost control of. Zemo is the method they decided to control him through. He makes it through the rest of the insufferable dinner with thoughts and plans whirling in his mind, new doors opening by the second.
It’s late when the officers finally leave to discuss their business in Heinrich’s study, leaving Zemo and the soldier behind like they’re nothing more than furniture. Zemo leans back, tapping a finger against his lips in thought. He turns and looks at the soldier.
The soldier is looking at him again, like he always is, big blue eyes desperate and body tilted subtly towards Zemo. Zemo eyes him speculatively. He’d been so bound up in resenting and hating the soldier for what his father did to him and for how helpless the soldier is, that he’d forgotten to look at the bigger picture. He’d forgotten to consider why they were so desperate to force this bond between him and the soldier.
He stands abruptly and the soldier leans back automatically, ready for Zemo’s usual command to back away. Zemo doesn’t give it and the soldier nearly stumbles uncertainly.
“Come,” he says, more invitation and less command.
The soldier follows him immediately, just as obedient and perfect as when he’s barking orders. More possibilities bloom in his mind on his way to the kitchen. He hums tunelessly as he digs through the fridge to feed the soldier. He never eats with the family, Zemo hadn’t even considered it before but Heinrich would never stand for it either. Zemo has a better idea.
He sits at the table with the plate next to him.
“Down,” he says, tapping his foot on the floor next to him.
The soldier drops to his knees immediately. Usually Zemo tells him to feed himself, but the way the soldier is looking up at him so needily makes him even more sure of his idea.
“Open,” he instructs and the soldier opens his mouth so obediently Zemo has to blink for a second.
He feeds the soldier slowly by hand, letting him press tentatively into his leg like a favored hound.
“You’re quite dangerous, aren’t you?” Zemo muses quietly.
The soldier looks up nervously, trying to shrink in on himself.
“Mmm no, kitten, I like it,” Zemo reassures him with a pat to the head. “I want to know just how dangerous you are.”
The soldier nearly purrs under Zemo’s fingers, eyes fluttering shut and food forgotten.
“Tell me what they use you for,” Zemo says, continuing to finger comb the soldier’s long hair.
He realizes with a start he hasn’t heard the soldier speak before.
“I am the Soldier,” the soldier rasps. “They use me for assassinations, or anything that needs to be dead. I am a weapon, the Fist of HYDRA.”
It sounds partially rote, partially stumbling. Zemo hums in thought.
“But you are mine now, aren’t you,” he says after a long pause.
“Yes,” the soldier says immediately. “You are my mate.”
Being mated to the soldier is starting to look more and more beneficial to Zemo, regardless of the original circumstances. The soldier looks hesitant and Zemo frowns until the soldier continues.
“They have control words,” he says reluctantly, like it’s his fault that HYDRA has wiped and controlled him. “I think the bond will override them, but I don’t know for sure.”
“You won’t hurt me,” Zemo says, absolutely certain. “Not even if they try to force you. Nothing supersedes mate bonds.”
The soldier relaxes and sighs in relief at Zemo’s declaration.
“Are you still hungry?” Zemo asks once the plate is empty.
The soldier shakes his head slightly, not dislodging Zemo’s hand. He looks hesitant again, chewing on his lip and Zemo is curious. This is the most initiative he’s seen out of the soldier yet.
“What is it?” he asks, nudging the soldier’s face up with a finger under his chin.
The shiver that runs through the soldier is intriguing, as is the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He lays his flesh hand on Zemo’s leg just above his knee, the heat burning through Zemo’s pants.
“Can I,” he starts, and swallows nervously, pleading with his eyes. “Can I make you feel good?”
Zemo isn’t sure what that means exactly, but the way the soldier’s steadily darkening eyes are flicking down to his crotch paints a pretty clear picture. Zemo leans back and spreads his legs. The soldier scrambles between them, looking up at Zemo through thick dark lashes. He starts to run both hands up Zemo’s legs before flinching and hiding his metal one.
Zemo catches his hand. “Use it,” he says softly, and the soldier melts under his words, staring up at Zemo adoringly.
The hands sliding up the inside of his thighs sparks a low burn of desire in his belly, something he hasn’t felt since before he presented. The soldier undoes his pants deftly, pulling out his still soft cock and taking it into his mouth immediately. Zemo groans and fists his hand in the soldier's hair automatically, the soldier moaning around him.
The hot, wet suction and clearly skilled tongue brings Zemo to full hardness in seconds, the soldier humming contentedly as he takes Zemo’s entire cock into his throat without pause. He swallows around the head and Zemo swears at the ripple of the soldier’s throat. His inexperience and the soldier’s talented mouth brings him to and over the edge in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Zemo droops back against the chair, trying to catch his breath as the soldier licks his cock clean smugly and tucks him away again.
“Fuck, you’re good at that,” Zemo pants. The soldier looks even more pleased.
“C’mon,” Zemo says, standing up. “Need sleep. We have a lot to plan tomorrow.”
He wobbles his way to the bedroom, legs still weak and shaky from the blowjob and the soldier follows nearly flat to his back. Zemo suddenly finds his heat and muscle comforting instead of oppressive.
The soldier automatically goes for his sad little blanket nest in the corner, but Zemo tsks. The soldier stops, looking back at Zemo hopefully.
“Here,” Zemo says, patting the foot of the bed. “More comfortable for you.”
The soldier climbs onto the bed with another cautious look at Zemo, curling up like a dog. Zemo tosses his blankets over him, and strokes his head a few more times until the soldier looks boneless with joy.
Zemo smiles indulgently, flicking the lights off and crawling into bed with the secure weight and warmth of the soldier at his feet.
***
It’s only two weeks later the HYDRA officers show up again. Zemo didn’t need two weeks to plan, but he doesn’t mind. It’s very thoughtful of Heinrich to collect so many valuable heads of HYDRA all in one spot. They ignore him again, like he’s as much a statue as the soldier, and Zemo doesn’t even mind this time. They’re so foolish in their false superiority. They handed their greatest weapon over without a single thought as to who holds the leash now.
“Helmut!” Heinrich barks, not even getting up to summon Zemo in.
He walks in, smiling politely at these little parasites as the soldier trails him perfectly a step behind.
“Hello,” Zemo says to the room. “And goodbye.”
They stare at him, but it’s too late and the soldier tears through the room, killing them before they even have a chance to do more than struggle to draw a weapon. The soldier isn’t even out of breath, standing on the other side of the room and waiting for more orders. Zemo looks over the broken bodies.
“Good boy,” he says with a satisfied smile.
Chapter Text
Zemo taps a finger against his lips in thought, sprawled on his bed while the soldier showers off the blood of HYDRA. The soldier has gotten a bit more independent and capable of functioning since he and Zemo were forcibly bonded, but there’s no doubt in Zemo’s mind that the soldier will always be subservient to him.
The soldier comes out, damp from the shower and only a towel around his narrow waist. Zemo eyes him speculatively. His opinion of the soldier and what their connection means between them has undergone a distinct shift since that fateful dinner a few weeks ago. Since the soldier had crawled so willingly between his legs and swallowed Zemo’s cock down like a professional.
He taps his foot on the end of the bed when the soldier heads for his clothes. The soldier hesitates but obeys, coming to a halt next to the bed and staring at Zemo uncertainly. He’s always so desperate to obey and please Zemo, and Zemo finds it positively delightful after being so powerless under Heinrich’s fist for so many years.
He nods to the end of the bed again, sliding his bare foot against the sheets. His robe is loosely tied and slides open a little along his thigh, the soldier’s eyes running down his leg rapidly before he climbs onto the bed in his towel. His muscles ripple and Zemo watches shamelessly - the soldier is a work of art between that smooth strength and lethal metal arm. The life slowly coming back into his icy eyes helps too, no longer such an unsettling blank slate.
The soldier curls up carefully at the foot of his bed, eyes fixed on Zemo’s face. Zemo can smell his arousal though, and he’s responding to it for the first time. It hadn’t truly been the soldier’s fault, the way they’d been forced together after all, and now they’re permanently bonded. Zemo isn’t going to let that first time keep him from enjoying all his mate has to offer, not when he’s such a good, responsive servant.
He trails his bare foot over the soldier’s arm, watching the soldier’s eyelids flutter and his cock harden through the towel.
“Go on,” Zemo says softly.
The soldier looks at him hopefully, and Zemo nods, curious what the soldier will do with the permission. He’s not afraid of being forced, not anymore. The soldier is completely under his thumb, and with how skilled his mouth is, Zemo is very interested in finding his other hidden talents.
The soldier shifts to his knees, the towel parting along one strong thigh and tented around his sizable erection. Zemo’s cock is hardening too, the first trickles of slick forming inside him and he doesn’t hate it as much this time. The soldier catches his extended foot, gently wrapping his metal fingers around his ankle. The strength and size in that metal hand against his slim ankle makes Zemo even harder, knowing that he’s entirely in control of it. The soldier lifts his leg slowly, watching Zemo to make sure he’s not going wrong and Zemo encourages him with a smile.
He runs his nose up Zemo’s instep, hot breath ghosting across the sensitive skin. Zemo shivers, strangely turned on by the reverence the soldier is showing his foot. His soft lips brush across his forefoot, the soldier’s breath tickling his toes and he flexes them slightly. The soldier groans, kissing his foot more firmly, open mouthed and wet.
Zemo’s other leg falls open instinctively, the slick soaking the sheets underneath him with every brush of the soldier’s tongue against his toes. The soldier looks like he’s in heaven, grazing his teeth along Zemo’s foot and lightly sucking on his toes one at a time. Zemo had never known his foot and ankle could be such erotic areas, but the tiny movements of the metal against his ankle and the soldier’s hot breath combine into something positively obscene with how good it feels.
He lets his robe slide open more, the soldier’s hot dark eyes devouring his body. He slides his other foot down the soldier’s cock behind his towel, rubbing it lightly and reveling in the way the soldier moans and bucks into his foot, humping it like a dog.
Zemo tilts his legs open more, the soldier pausing briefly before kissing and licking his way up the inside of Zemo’s leg slowly, eyes still focused on Zemo’s face for his approval. Zemo can only manage to pant and shiver under that hot mouth, working ever closer to his cock and needy, empty hole.
The soldier’s towel finally slides off him, baring his leaking cock and sharp hips between Zemo’s spread legs, tensing with every small movement he makes up the bed. His stubble rasps against Zemo’s inner thigh, tongue darting out to lap up some of the slick Zemo’s been steadily leaking. The soldier moans, licking his skin clean hungrily, hips jerking a little in the air. He’s on all fours now, bent down like a supplicant between Zemo’s legs, hands fluttering against Zemo’s skin.
Zemo catches his hand, pushing it firmly into his thigh and the soldier clutches him tightly like he’s the only thing anchoring the soldier to the bed. He pauses at the join of Zemo’s thigh and ass, eyes flicking up to Zemo for permission. Zemo nods and strokes the soldier’s hair, tugging lightly until the soldier moves up those last few inches.
“Good boy,” Zemo rasps as the soldier’s tongue drags across the thin skin behind his balls.
The soldier whimpers under the praise, licking his slick up feverishly. His hand slides under Zemo’s thigh and pushes on it until Zemo lifts it to his chest, baring his hole to the soldier. The soldier moans, and then Zemo loses all coherent thought with the soldier’s tongue circling his hole and hot breath against him. His free hand buries itself in the soldier’s damp hair, pulling him harder against Zemo’s desperately empty hole. The soldier doubles his efforts, sliding his tongue into Zemo with ease and flicks unerringly across a spot inside him that sends heat and electricity through his body.
He gasps, rocking his hips down against the soldier’s face and the soldier works him over fervently, hungry little noises muffled against Zemo’s skin. His pale back is arched and gorgeous between Zemo’s legs, and Zemo wants to feel all that muscle working around him and for him. He pushes against the soldier’s shoulder with his foot, pushing him back and the soldier obeys reluctantly. His eyes are blown black and his face is shiny with Zemo’s slick, lips red and parted on his short panting breaths.
Zemo slides his foot up the soldier’s neck and behind his head, pulling him forward with a soft nudge. The soldier’s eyes flutter shut in pleasure at the touch of Zemo’s foot before scooting forward cautiously.
“Fuck me,” Zemo orders.
The soldier freezes and looks near panic at the order.
“Yes, kitten, I mean it,” Zemo soothes him, stroking his hair with his toes. “That first time wasn’t your fault, not truly.”
The soldier relaxes and the nervous look in his eyes shifts into something near worshipful. He crawls slowly across Zemo’s body until his cock is nudging against Zemo’s slick hole, loosened from his tongue. Zemo hooks his free leg around the soldier’s waist, inviting him in and moaning at the slow stretch. It’s so different from the first time, the soldier moving so slowly it’s almost frustrating but the care and obedience is touching.
The soldier bottoms out finally and Zemo feels so satisfied and full at long last. He strokes the soldier’s cheek with his foot, and the soldier whimpers and turns his face to kiss his sole again. The soldier rolls his hips, face still nuzzling Zemo’s instep. His cock stretches Zemo open but this time it’s positively delicious and Zemo pushes down against his length. The soldier moans again, sitting back on his heels and pulling Zemo into his lap to fuck into him more aggressively.
The angle is perfect, the soldier’s cock dragging across that sensitive spot inside him until Zemo feels like he’s going to dissolve from the heat building inside him. He gasps, moans and meets the soldier’s thrusts with his own movements, chasing that high just out of his reach. The soldier’s tongue winding around his toes is another point of sharp need and he claws at the sheets, near tears from the overwhelming sensations.
“Ah, more!” Zemo cries out finally, frustrated with what’s just beyond him.
The soldier groans and the base of his cock starts to thicken against Zemo’s hole, forcing his way inside and swelling rapidly. It doesn't hurt this time, it feels like nirvana the way Zemo’s ass is being spread open and the knot grinding against his prostate until he’s coming on a choked off scream. His hole clenching down around the soldier’s knot drags another soft noise out of the soldier, his hips rocking slowly into Zemo’s ass and filling him with cum.
He collapses across Zemo’s body, finally releasing his foot and blanketing Zemo in a wall of hot solid muscle. Zemo strokes his back, the weight oddly protective and satisfying at the same time. The soldier purrs under his hands, still locked inside of Zemo.
Zemo smiles against the soldier’s skin. He could get used to this kind of obedient and eager service from such a powerful creature. Heinrich had had no idea what he’d set in motion with that phone call. Maybe Zemo should leave him some flowers on the pile of ash he’d burned the HYDRA officers into as a thanks for his surprisingly useful mate. He won’t, Heinrich doesn’t deserve that much recognition. Besides, Zemo has plans to make for the rest of the organization.