#winterrumrollins

The Soldier gets blown up on a mission. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but the timing was a little too perfect, the placement leaving severe wounds but nothing that the serum can’t heal, and Rumlow thinks that maybe, just maybe, Pierce was testing the Soldier’s abilities in the field. It had seemed like a suspiciously easy mission, too, something that they could have done without the Soldier’s help.

The Soldier comes limping up to Rumlow when the target’s been taken out, whimpers as he clutches his bleeding and still slightly smoking arm, sleeve and pants leg in tatters around it’s torn up limbs.

“Please,” Winter says softly. It’s the first time Brock’s ever heard him speak, and he’s suddenly aware that he has no idea if the serum comes with an enhanced pain tolerance or not.

“It’s okay, medical will get you all cleaned up,” he says, starting to turn away, but Winter shakes his head, grips Brock’s hand so gently in his metal one that Brock would almost think he was holding a kitten’s paw.

“Please?” He repeats, eyes darting down, and Brock looks, thinks there might be something wrong with the Soldier’s leg, but finds the remains of his pants tented instead.

“Huh,” he says, for lack of a better response. “Jack, get over here!” He calls.

Jack comes up, frowning. “Something wrong? That explosive did come in pretty fucking close to him,” he says, stopping dead when he sees the situation. “Huh.”

“Soldier, do you know what’s wrong?” Brock asks finally.

Winter shakes his head. “Please,” he tries again, and Brock and Jack trade a look.

“You think they trained him to-”

“-With pain? Yeah, I think they did. Don’t think he even knows what’s going on, either.”

“... Does that mean-”

“Yeah, it’s probably rape. But are we gonna let him just stand there like that?”

A pause. Then Jack grabs Winter by the flesh arm, ignores the pained and needy whimper, and drags him towards their designated convoy vehicle, Brock hurrying to join them.

“You’re moving to the other vehicle,” he snaps at the agents sitting in the back of theirs, and they scatter as Jack and Brock haul Winter in, shutting the doors behind them.

The van starts moving, and Jack and Brock get to work, pulling down Winter’s pants and pushing him to his knees, Jack sitting down in front of him and unzipping his own pants, already half hard.

“No teeth, just suck. Got it?”

Winter nods, sucking Jack down in one fluid motion while Brock strokes Winter’s cock. Winter hums softly, and it must feel good because Jack’s head thumps back against the side of the van as he moans.

“Jesus, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing and he’s perfect at it. Bet they trained it, just didn’t explain it,” he gasps out, and Brock nods.

“Would make sense. Like using some kind of toy, right?”

Jack gasps, burying his hand in Winter’s hair and holding him in place as he comes, pulling him off a few seconds later.

“Better than a toy,” Brock amends, and Jack slides over, gestures for Brock to take his place.

“Try it out for yourself,” he says, breathless, and Brock sits down, unzips and gives Winter the same warning.

Winter sucks him down, just like he did with Jack, and Brock gasps, one hand gripping his seat and the other tangling in Winter’s hair.

“Jesus christ,” he gasps as Winter’s tongue swirls around the head of his cock, as he hollows out his cheeks. “I’m not gonna last long,” Brock says between moans, and Jack nods.

“Good, we’re probably almost back to base anyway. Besides, we gotta reward him, that was the whole point of this anyway, right?”

Jack kneels down beside Winter, wraps one hand around Winter’s cock and digs his fingers into the burnt flesh of Winter’s arm with the other. “Come,” he says, and Winter moans around Brock’s cock, setting off Brock’s own orgasm.

Jack hauls Winter to his feet and zips Winter’s pants back up as Brock catches his breath.

“We’re doing that again sometime,” Brock says finally, and Jack nods.

“Oh, abso-fucking-lutely. Winter, any complaints about that?”

Winter shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“Did you even look at what your master got you?” Jack asks, and Winter shakes his head, watches Jack hold the object up. it’s a small rubber disc, painted with a red and blue stripes and a star. Winter looks at the star curiously, then glances toward the star on his arm.

“That’s right, good boy,” Jack praises, ruffling Winter’s hair, and he barks, sits back to look at the toy expectantly.

Jack tosses it down the hall, but Winter stays facing Jack, well trained by now. A long pause, Winter wiggling with anticipation, before Jack finally gives in.

“Okay, fetch,” he says, and Winter bolts down the hall, brings the toy back just as Brock sits down beside Jack.

Winter jumps up, jerking his head to the side to toss the toy at Jack before plopping himself in Brock’s lap, licking Brock’s face.

“Gross,” Brock groans as Winter barks and yips at him, slobbering all over Brock’s cheek and ear. “How come he only does this to me? Why doesn’t he slobber on you?”

“Because he knows I’d beat him senseless if he did it to me,” Jack says calmly, and Winter whimpers softly, curls slightly closer to Brock.

“Point taken,” Brock concedes, pulling Winter back by the hair. “Win, if you can settle down for just a few minutes, I’ll give you a treat.”

Winter perks up at that and stops his attack on Brock’s face, slipping off the couch to lay with his head on Brock’s feet and his hip against Jack’s feet.

“Thank fuck,” Brock says, and Jack laughs.

“C’mon, let’s get the business talk out of the way so the pup can have his treats.”

“Mission report?” Brock asks.

“Success,” Winter replies, then holds a hand out to Brock, something clearly in Winter’s closed fist.

Brock frowns, holds his hand out and stares at the empty soda can Winter deposits there.

“Soldier? What is this?” Brock asks, and Winter looks down at the can in Brock’s hand, eyes narrowing like he’s frowning.

“A can,” Winter replies finally, and Brock shakes his head.

“I can see that, why did you hand it to me?”

Winter tilts his head, looks at Brock, but doesn’t respond.

“Great,” Brock mutters, tossing the can on the floor of the van. This isn’t important, he has to be ready to take the Soldier back to the chair when they stop.

——————-

“What the fuck?” Jack says, and Brock turns, sees Jack holding up an empty Cheetos bag, Winter standing silently behind him.

Brock looks at the bag, shrugs. “It’s a Cheetos bag. That’s weird, he normally only brings me trash,” he says, and Jack frowns.

“Are you telling me this is normal?”

Brock shrugs again. “Yeah. Rollins, we work with an enhanced super soldier who’s from World War Two but looks like he’s thirty. None of what we do is normal.”

Jack huffs a laugh, shrugs. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Alright, whatever.”

——————-

They’ve been on mission for the last 96 hours when Brock asks again, motivated by increasing boredom.

“Winter, why do you bring me and Rollins trash all the time?” he asks, and Winter looks over his shoulder from where he’s laying behind his rifle, shrugs.

“Gift,” Winter says, then turns back to check through his scope.

“Gift?” Jack echoes, perking up at the idea of anything to relieve the boredom of waiting here, and Winter shrugs again, doesn’t turn. Jack shares a look with Brock, then turns back to Winter. “Why gift?”

Winter turns. “Good handlers. Gift.” Winter turns back to his rifle, adjusts grip, and lets out a slow breath as he pulls the trigger. He watches, confirms the shot’s success, then disassembles the weapon, placing it back in its case and standing.

“Mission success.”

The Soldier is left with Rollins for the last few hours of the mission, something that Rumlow has to do alone, and despite the Soldier’s best efforts to sit calmly on the bed by the door and watch the tv Rollins is focused on, it can’t help the way its gaze constantly drifts to the door, looking for Rumlow even though it knows that Rumlow won’t be back for a while.

Rollins notices from where he’s leaning back against the headboard of his own bed, snorting. “What, are you some fucking puppy with separation anxiety? Can’t wait for your owner to come home and give you a scratch behind the ears and call you a good boy?”

The Soldier barely contains its flinch, because it’s ashamed of itself. It knows it’s supposed to listen to whatever handler it’s with, but it really has become kind of attached to Rumlow, the soft way Rumlow sometimes interacts with the Soldier if it’s done really well.

Rollins sighs. “Okay, okay. Get over here.”

It sounds like a command, but it also sounds like a reprimand, and the Soldier hopes its hesitation isn’t obvious. It curls up against Rollins’ side, and when Rollins starts to run a hand through its hair, it buries its face in Rollins’ shoulder, whining softly.

They stay like that for a while, long enough for the Soldier to finally relax, when the hand in the Soldier’s hair turns from soft petting to a tight, painful grip, and the Soldier whimpers as Rollins pulls the Soldier’s head back by the hair, forcing the Soldier face to face with Rollins.

The Soldier tries not to make eye contact, but Rollins just grips its jaw hard enough to bruise until the Soldier looks at him, wide eyed.

“There you go. I don’t know why Rumlow spoils you so much. Clearly you need a firmer hand, don’t you?”

The Soldier doesn’t know what the right answer is, and it’s still trying to formulate a response when the hand on its jaw moves to backhand it across the face, the movement tugging painfully on the Soldier’s hair still in Rollins’ grip.

“Don’t you?” Rollins repeats, and the Soldier nods, even if it hurts, because that must be the correct answer, compliance and agreement is the answer. Rollins releases his grip, kicking the Soldier off the bed. “Kneel in the middle of the floor, hands behind your back, eyes closed.”

The Soldier complies, and it hears Rollins make a noise of approval. “Good boy. Stay. No noise.”

The Soldier tries to ignore the warmth in his chest from the praise, focuses on his orders. Rustling noises as Rollins digs in the bag they’d brought for the mission, clinking sounds as he brings something over. The heavy metal cuffs lock in place around the Soldier’s wrists, the Soldier’s muzzle clasped over its face.

The Soldier’s hair is pulled back and tied with something, presumably a rope, which is tied to the cuffs, the rope taught enough that it rips at the Soldier’s hair. The Soldier tips its head back to ease the strain, only to have Rollins tighten the rope again, leaving the Soldier off balance, chest thrust forward and eyes watering.

Rollins pushes the Soldier’s pants down around its thighs, and the Soldier is confused until it feels something cold, hard, and stiff pressed against its hole, and the Soldier jerks in its restraints, whimpering at the pain the movement causes.

“I thought I said no noise. Guess you’re going to need a much firmer hand, if you can’t follow basic orders,” Rollins says, shoving what the Soldier assumes is one of the stun batons into the Soldier’s ass without any preparation.

The Soldier cries out, tears leaking from its eyes as it smells and feels the blood dripping from its hole. Then Rollins turns the baton on, and the Soldier screams into the muzzle, writhes in a desperate attempt to get away.

“We don’t have much time, so we’ll have to see what we can do,” Rollins says, and the Soldier hears the clink of metal and the rustle of fabric and leather as Rollins takes off his belt. The belt comes down on the Soldier’s ass, metal buckle first, and the Soldier cries, whimpers and pleads into the muzzle as Rollins beats him, pausing occasionally to fuck the Soldier with the baton, turning it on and off at random, sometimes leaving it on while he continues beating the Soldier.

At some point, Rollins starts carving words into the Soldier’s body with a knife, and the Soldier just sobs as it feels the blood dripping down its back, chest, arms, and legs, almost no part of the Soldier’s body unmarked.

The door to the room opens, and the Soldier perks up at the thought that Rumlow is back, and Rumlow takes care of it, there’s no way Rumlow will be okay with this, Rumlow will help the Soldier, of course he will.

“Rollins, what the fuck did you do?”

“Just reminded your favorite pet of its place.”

There’s a sigh, and then there’s a hand cupping the Soldier’s cheek, and the Soldier whines, leans into the touch even if it hurts to move, because it would recognize that hand anywhere.

“Here, let’s get you out of this, hmm?” Rumlow says softly, untying the rope and undoing the cuffs, sliding the baton out of the Soldier’s ass and taking off the muzzle. “There you go, good boy,” Rumlow says, and the Soldier sobs, throws itself into Rumlow’s arms and shakes as Rumlow holds it, running a hand through its hair gently.

“Good boy Winter, there you go. You’re going to keep being a good boy, aren’t you?” The Soldier nods frantically, and Rumlow laughs. “Okay, alright. Stand up, compose yourself, it’s time to go home.”

When the Soldier is back in cryo, their initial reports are filed, and they’ve both showered and changed, Rumlow takes Rollins out to dinner, then they go back to Rollins’ apartment, Rollins hooking his phone up to the tv and playing back the video of the Soldier while they drink beers on the couch.

Because of Rumlow’s (and more recently, Rollins’s) clear authority over Winter, and their ranking as Winter’s two best handlers, Rollins is given Spider as his asset after Spider has been given the serum and brainwashed, all of his memories repressed deep within him and his trigger words programmed.

The four of them make one hell of a team; Winter and Spider’s lethality and enhanced abilities make them perfect for difficult missions, and Rumlow and Rollins’s control over them is spectacular. The more they work together, the closer they get, and with Rumlow and Rollins already having used Winter together before, it only makes sense to add Spider to the mix.

So after one particularly long day of nothing but meetings, with all four of them itching for something more to do, Rumlow and Rollins take Winter and Spider back to Rollins’ place for the night.

“Undress each other,” Rumlow orders once they’ve reached the bedroom, and both assets comply, undressing the other efficiently until they’re both naked, turning back to face Rumlow and Rollins and wait for further orders.

Rollins is the one who laughs. “Jesus, I knew he was a kid, but look at him, his cock is so tiny,” he says, and Spider shifts uncomfortably. Rumlow just shrugs.

“Well, it’s not like he was going to be topping anyone anyway, he’ll just be even more fun to fuck because he’ll probably come really quick, I doubt he’s ever seen any action.”

Rumlow takes the gun out of the holster on his hip, popping out the clip. He walks over to Spider, gripping the boy’s chin. “Open your mouth,” he says, and Spider complies, gags as Rumlow fucks Spider’s mouth with the gun.

“Make sure you get it nice and wet, because I’m planning on fucking you with this,” he says, and Spider whimpers around the barrel, nods.

Rollins grabs Winter by the hair, takes the blade off his belt and trails it lightly down Winter’s chest and stomach. “And you, sweetheart, are going to finger Spider open while I carve your back up all nice and pretty, how’s that sound?” Winter moans, nodding. Winter’s played this game and similar ones with Rumlow and Rollins in the past. He puts two of his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them and coating them in saliva before shoving both into Spider roughly.

Spider cries out around the gun in his mouth, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. It’s nowhere near safe or gentle, and it hurts, but Spider does not get to complain. Neither of the assets do. So Spider just whines and whimpers around the barrel of the gun, gags when it hits the back of his throat.

In the meantime, Rollins starts to carve up Winter’s back, digging the knife in deep as he puts words into Winter’s back, some of them on top of words from previous nights; “SLUT” is carved over the word “WHORE,” and blood drips down Winter’s back and shoulders, pooling on the bed beneath him. “HAIL HYDRA” is carved in the same spot as previous times, and the mass of scar tissue bleeds profusely as Rollins digs the knife into it.

Winter’s movements stutter, already getting weak from blood loss, and Rollins sighs, pats Winter’s back on top of the fresh wounds, causing Winter to flinch.

“God, I though you were supposed to be a professional, Winter, but you can’t even handle a couple little cuts. Pathetic. Well, since you’re bleeding and useless anyway, use the blood to lube your fingers, at the very least you can make this nice for Spider.”

Winter lets out a hiccuping sob, but he reaches back and coats his fingers in his own blood, then uses them to continue fingering Spider open.

“I want Spider’s mouth,” Rollins says, and Rumlow nods.

“Hold on, I want to try something.” Rollins watches as Rumlow cocks the gun in Spider’s mouth, and Spider’s eyes go wide. Rumlow grins. “I never checked the chamber. What do you think, Spider? You think there’s a bullet in there? Shall we test it?”

Spider shakes his head, but Rumlow just shrugs, pulling the trigger.

Spider flinches, eyes squeezed shut, but nothing happens, and after a moment Spider opens his eyes, sobbing as he realizes that he’s fine.

“Okay, all yours,” Rumlow says, taking the gun out of Spider’s mouth and tossing it aside. Rollins grins, takes Rumlow’s place on the bed and unzips his pants, taking out his cock.

“I know you don’t have any experience since no one would fuck someone with such a tiny little prick, but that’s fine, I’m planning on fucking your face so all you need to do is keep your teeth out of the way, alright?”

Spider is still sobbing, but he nods, opening his mouth for Rollins to push in.

Rumlow taps Winter’s shoulder. “You get to fuck Spider. Make sure you hit his prostate, I wanna see if that little cock of his can manage to cum. And be rough with him.” Rumlow grabs a bottle of lube from the nightstand, slicking himself up. “I know you’re a slut, so you don’t need any prep for me to fuck you.”

Rumlow waits until Winter has started to fuck up into Spider, Spider whimpering around Rollins’s cock as Winter’s long, thick cock fills him up, and then Rumlow fucks into Winter, Winter crying out, his metal arm reaching up to grab Spider’s throat in a desperate attempt to hold on to something. Spider chokes, Rollins’s cock and Winter’s hold on his neck too much for him to be able to breathe properly.

Winter leaves hickey’s trailing down Spider’s neck, collarbone, and chest, and Spider just thrusts up into the air, desperate for release. As predicted, Spider cums first. The vibration of his moan sets Rollins off, and the way he clenches around Winter gets him off, too. Rumlow’s not far behind, filling up Winter before pulling out, all four men collapsing on the bed in a mess of limbs.

“We’re doing that again,” Rollins says after a few minutes, and Rumlow laughs.

“Oh hell yes we are.”

They discover the change because at first, Winter started harming himself, using a knife to stab his own flesh arm, and when Rumlow had reached out to put a hand on Winter’s shoulder to make him stop, Winter had reached up and grabbed Rumlow’s wrist with the metal arm, shattering the bones there with the close of his fist.

With Rumlow, normally Winter’s best handler, being in the infirmary, they’d sent Rollins and a team to go get Winter back to the chair so they could wipe him and try and get their obedient Asset back.

They wiped Winter, but that only made it worse. The second the restraints were off he had lunged at the nearest doctor, grabbing the man by the neck and throwing him up against the wall so hard that the doctor was lucky he wasn’t paralyzed.

So the plan changes, and Rollins is sent in with a straitjacket to restrain the Asset until further notice. They already have Winter sedated since the incident with the doctor, but with the serum, time is running out and they need to get Winter restrained quickly.

Rollins walks over to where Winter is curled up on the floor, yanking the jacket over Winter’s head. He tightens it more than is strictly necessary in his own spite about Winter breaking Rumlow’s wrist, because sure, Rumlow always favored Winter over Rollins, but Jack still loves Brock, and no one hurts his boyfriend, not even his other boyfriend.

So Rollins tightens the straps down Winter’s back until it’s practically suffocating Winter, forces Winter’s arms through the loops and pulls the strap between his legs, and secures Winter with his arms behind his back until he can’t move arms almost at all.

Rollins is just checking the straps at the top of the jacket when Winter turns his head, biting down on Rollins’ arm and ripping off a small chunk of flesh, spitting it out and baring his teeth at Rollins, mouth covered in Rollins’ blood.

Rollins swears, looks at the damage done to his arm, then glares at Winter, grabbing the Asset by the hair and dragging him to his feet. “You want to act like a rabid fucking dog? Fine. I’ll muzzle you like a fucking dog,” Rollins spits, dragging the Asset growling and snapping to the storage room for Hydra’s dogs.

He grabs one of the metal basket muzzles from the counter, then shoves Winter to his knees, wrestling the muzzle over the Asset’s face and clasping it behind the Asset’s head, connecting the strap that goes over the top of the Asset’s head to the strap in the back, securing it in place.

Winter still turns and snaps at him, but Rollins just hauls him up by his restrained arms and starts marching back to the doctors he’s supposed to deliver the Asset to, gripping Winter’s hair in one hand and his bound arms in the other. Winter stumbles and falls on the way there, and Rollins just keeps walking, dragging Winter into the room full of doctors by the hair.

“Here’s your fucking bitch, I’m going to go get my arm looked at,” Rollins says, throwing Winter into the middle of the room, and then he turns and leaves without a word. He has an arm that needs fixing and a boyfriend he needs to check up on, and he doesn’t have time for this bullshit.

Rumlow went on a mission yesterday and hasn’t come home yet, and in the meantime, Winter has been acting up in anyway he can think of. Rollins knows that he isn’t Winter’s preferred handler, that he’s been Rumlow’s asset for a longer time, but come on.

Rollins rolls out of bed, follows the sound of the bell down the hall to the dining room, where he finds Winter perched on the table in nothing but his collar, batting all of Rollins’ paperwork off the table and pouting.

“Hey!” Rollins calls, and Winter pauses, meets Rollins eyes, face devoid of all emotion, and Rollins is pissed. He’s pissed because he knows, knows, that Winter can move carefully enough not to make the bell on his collar jingle, that Winter could hear him coming from the moment he started walking down the hall, that Winter is well aware that he’s being an asshole.

“You gonna get off the table and take your punishment, kitten, or are you going to keep making things worse?” Rollins asks, and Winter stares at him and, without breaking eye contact, swipes the last of Rollins’ paperwork off the table and hisses.

Rollins is too tired for this. “Come here,” he says, walking towards the table, but Winter just leaps out of reach, landing on the floor across the table from Rollins and meowing loudly, eyes narrowed.

Actually, scratch that. Rollins has fucking had it. Rollins jumps the table in one smooth motion, tackling Winter and grabbing him by the collar, dragging him hissing and clawing to the living room. Rollins forces Winter to his knees and takes his dick out of his boxers, fills Winter’s mouth as soon as Winter opens it to hiss again.

“You want something to do with your mouth? You want some fucking attention? Focus on this, and I swear to god if you act up again, if you so much as move before Brock gets home, you will not like the consequences.”

Winter, for his part, seems to get the message. He lets Rollins maneuver him so he’s deepthroating Jack’s cock, nose pressed against Rollins’ stomach, and he stays there, breathing steadily through his nose.

Winter doesn’t move the entire time, Rollins putting on the tv at low volume for something to do while Winter keeps his cock warm. At some point, Rollins had grabbed the blanket on the couch and tossed it over himself, covering Winter in the process, but Winter didn’t move, just closed his eyes and focused on staying put.

When Rumlow comes home, he doesn’t see Winter at first, just notices Rollins on the couch and frowns. “You’re awake early,” he says, and Rollins nods, moving the blanket to reveal Winter, eyes open and looking up in Rumlow’s direction.

“Someone missed you, and took it out on my paperwork.”

Rumlow sighs, walking over and dropping himself onto the couch beside Rollins. “Figures. Either of you cum yet?”

Rollins shakes his head. “Honestly? I’m not in the mood.” Rollins taps the back of Winter’s head. “Okay, you can move.”

Rumlow watches as Winter pulls back, working his jaw and whimpering softly. “How long has he been there?”

“Three hours? Give or take?”

Rumlow hums, thinking. “Winter, you thirsty?”

Winter nods, and Rumlow pats his thigh to call Winter over, unzipping his pants and pulling himself out. “Then come get some milk, sweetheart.”

Winter crawls over, bell jingling, and starts licking and sucking at Rumlow’s cock, hands partially curled to mimic paws and resting on the cushion between Rumlow’s thighs as he works Rumlow over.

He has his lips around Rumlow’s cock when Rumlow cums, and Winter swallows everything, then carefully licks Rumlow’s cock clean after. Rumlow tucks his cock away again, zipping up his pants as he looks down and sees Winter’s cock curved up against his stomach, hard and leaking.

“You want some help with that, kitten?” Rumlow asks, and Winter nods, meows and looks up at Rumlow with pleading eyes. Rumlow just shrugs. “Too bad. You want to cum, you don’t act up next time, you understand?”

Winter whimpers, but nods.

“Good. Well, I need a shower. Jack, you coming?”

Rollins shakes his head. “No, I’ll make breakfast.”

Rumlow nods. “Okay. Come on, Winter, you’re getting a bath first.”

Winter’s stomach sinks, because he knows his bath is going to be a lot colder than Rumlow’s shower, but he also knows that it’s his fault. He crawls behind Rumlow to the bathroom, climbs into the bath when told, and does everything Rumlow tells him, even as his teeth chatter and his body shivers.

When his bath is done and Rumlow’s dried him off and put his collar back on, he crawls out to where Rollins is cooking in the kitchen, rubs his head against Rollins’ leg, purring when Rollins scratches him behind the ears.