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Bucky barely spared a glance at the guard as he let the limp body drop to the floor; he had heard the man’s neck snap.
His attention was focused on the figure of Baron Helmut Zemo, who was bound hand and foot to the wall of this cell. He faced the wall, stretched long by the handcuffs which connected to a chain near the ceiling. He was stripped to the waist, and his trousers hung low on his hips. Bucky admired the freckles and moles on the baron’s pale flesh, the flex of muscle and fat as Zemo rocked his hips to hump the concrete.
A memory tickling his brain, Bucky ripped the handcuffs away from the chain, then frowned at the bruises purpling the fair skin of the baron’s arm: the marks of rough fingers on his upper arm and forearm, framing an injection site with a blown-out vein on the inside of his elbow. He glanced up at Zemo’s red-rimmed eyes and wet lashes. “I’ve seen this before.” Chest heaving, Zemo met his gaze. “The only way out is through.”
Zemo’s lids fell closed for a moment, then opened. “Uncuff me,” he panted.
Bucky flipped over the guards carelessly , each in turn, and began to rummage through their pockets. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zemo shuffle into the corner and struggled to unzip his trousers. Bucky tried to make more noise as he searched for the keys, but there was no covering up Zemo’s groan and the dull, arrhythmic crunch of the cuffs against the concrete wall.
“Any luck?” Zemo asked, in a tone that was shockingly conversational for the circumstances.
“I can’t find the keys,” Bucky gritted out.
“Then break the cuffs.”
Bucky shook his head and returned to the first guard in case he had missed something. “They’re soldered directly together. I’d break your wrists.”
“Then break my fucking wrists.”
Bucky looked up at both the volume and the desperation of Zemo’s voice. The baron had turned to face him. Bucky took in the wildness of his gaze before allowing his eyes to travel down and perceive the awkward cant of Zemo’s hands where they seemed to be trying both to hide and stimulate his erection simultaneously.
“I can’t get a good angle,” the baron moaned. He cursed in what Bucky assumed was Sokovian and then abandoned all semblance of modesty, taking his surprisingly thick length between the ring and pinky fingers of his left hand in a wild bid for relief.
Bucky knelt less than a meter away, frozen, watching. There were actual tears streaming down Zemo’s cheeks now as he whimpered and rolled his hips desperately against his fingers, which were clearly inadequate against that painful engorgement.
As if in a dream, Bucky crawled forward and pushed Zemo’s hands out of the way, curling his own right hand around the baron’s taut aching flesh. Zemo’s breath shuddered out of his body when Bucky began to stroke him, quickly setting up a firm rhythm. “Is that too hard?” he asked cautiously.
Eyes closed, Zemo shook his head wildly. He began to rut into Bucky’s fist. Almost clinically, Bucky leaned forward and tasted the fluid that was leaking from Zemo’s reddened tip. The baron let out a strangled wail at the sensation. Bucky rolled the fluid around in his mouth like a sommelier considering a sip of wine; the odd metallic taste was unmistakable. “It’s prevanin, like I thought. We’ll have to get it all out of your system.” Bucky shook his head ruefully, his hand maintaining its work. “I can’t believe they’re still using this stuff.”
Zemo banged his head back against the wall and groaned in frustration. “I can’t-“
“Sshh,” Bucky gentled, “I know. It’s part of the drug. It’ll happen. Trust me.”
Honey-brown eyes stared down at him from a face twisted with effort. Zemo rutted faster, groaning with strain. “Please,” he begged mindlessly. “Please.”
“Yes, like that. Just like that,” Bucky urged. “You’re doing so well.”
Zemo roared, and Bucky kept encouraging him as thick cum spurted from his cock, splattering Bucky’s hand and arm.
“Is it out?” Zemo gasped hoarsely. “Is that it?”
Bucky shook his head. “No, but we’ll get it all out. Don’t worry.”
Zemo hummed with exhaustion and overstimulation as Bucky tugged the baron’s trousers down to his ankles with his left hand, noting that the man was wearing sock garters (but ignoring the twitch of interest from his own dick in that unusual fashion choice). Keeping up the pace with his right hand on Zemo’s still-hard cock, Bucky slid the first two fingers of his vibranium hand into his mouth. Zemo’s jaw dropped at the sight. When Bucky’s fingers were as slick as possible, he reached around Zemo’s body and worked his fingers between the man’s muscular buttocks. He would ordinarily have been gentler with such a tight asshole, but, under the circumstances, he penetrated the baron without too much ceremony. The process was made slightly easier by the abandon with which Zemo was still rutting into his right hand. Bucky was fairly certain that he had found the baron’s prostate, and Zemo confirmed it by cursing loudly and rocking back against Bucky’s fingers.
Nevertheless, Bucky found himself purring, “Right there?” as he fucked his fingers in and out of Zemo’s hole.
“Yes!” The word emerged in a whine that called forth a soft answering moan from Bucky. He slid his right hand down to encircle the thick base of Zemo’s erection and then took the baron’s cock in his mouth.
“James?!?” Zemo wailed, trying to tangle his fingers into the supersoldier’s hair.
Bucky pulled back long enough to explain, “It’s the only way to know when the prevanin is totally out of your system. I have to taste it.”
“You have to-“ Zemo repeated, shocked. “But the prevanin…it doesn’t affect you?”
“Someone else? Sure. But not me.” Bucky produced a lopsided, rakish grin that likely hadn’t seen the sun in 60 years, and suddenly he felt like that young man again, that young man who knelt before beautiful men with beautiful cocks and smiled up at them before giving them the time of their lives. And he must not have forgotten all the skills he used to have, because Zemo was soon climaxing again, legs shaking as he unloaded into the supersoldier’s mouth.
“James! James, I can’t take anymore,” the baron whimpered, although the way he continued to fuck Bucky’s face belied his words.
“It’s not all out yet,” Bucky managed around Zemo’s thickness, that metallic taste still flooding his mouth. He increased the pace of his thrusting into Zemo’s ass, and the baron scrabbled at Bucky’s head with his cuffed hands, sobbing incoherently in Sokovian. Bucky reached up with his right hand and pinched Zemo’s nipple.
“Harder!” Zemo wailed, and Bucky squeezed the little nub harder, twisting slightly, and Zemo’s whole body arched as if in excruciating pain, but he was shooting jet after jet down Bucky’s throat, so much and so fast that the supersoldier nearly choked trying to swallow it down. The baron screamed, his voice raw, as the orgasm continued, his body emptying more and more of the poison into Bucky, who sucked it down greedily until he tasted nothing but the salty flavor of Zemo’s own spend.
When Zemo collapsed, shivering violently, Bucky caught him and gathered him into his arms to warm him with the heat of his own body. He would dress the baron again and wipe away all trace of the previous hour before carrying the still-shaking Zemo to safety.