Fic: Honey
Fic: Honey
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Brock Rumlow/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov/Original Male Characters
Word Count: 1,970
Summary: Rumlow pretends to be sympathetic when a mission goes horribly wrong for Natasha.
Warnings: rape, double penetration
Note: Written for Consent Issues Exchange.
"You are a beautiful woman, Natalie," croaked the old bastard.
"You're not so bad yourself, sugar," Romanov replied huskily.
Rumlow watched the monitor, bored. He wondered idly why female agents didn’t insist on getting hazard pay or some other kind of compensation for honeypot missions. If it was him, he'd demand serious compensation for cuddling up to fat old fucks like Dragoti.
Romanov came into view on the screen as she crawled across the stretch limousine to Dragoti.
Literally fucking crawled. Rumlow chuckled. He was going to give her so much shit over this later.
Romanov crawled into Dragoti's lap. "I find that mixing business and pleasure enhances both."
"Ah, if only you came into my life fifteen years ago," Dragoti sighed, caressing Romanov's hair.
"I'm here now," Romanov murmured, before she began kissing the old bastard.
"Can't they turn that damn music off," Rollins exclaimed in annoyance.
Rumlow glanced over at him. Neither Rollins nor any of the other S.T.R.I.K.E. operatives were paying attention to the monitor.
"An ice-cream truck is more conspicuous without its music," the tech guy said to Rollins.
They were packed tight in the van. It wasn’t one of the fancy new mobile surveillance vehicles cleverly disguised as an ice-cream truck; it was an actual goddamn ice-cream truck modified for surveillance. It only barely managed to contain the computers, the tech guy to operate the computers, and half a dozen armed men in full gear.
"Tune it out," Rumlow advised Rollins, in a tone that should remind him he was a S.T.R.I.K.E. - and H.Y.D.R.A. - operative and he was supposed to be above petty bitching.
Rollins was chastened, but the other men began to suggest crass lyrics to accompany the ice-cream truck melody. Rumlow tuned them out, listening instead to Romanov moaning over the comms. With his earpiece in, it was like she was moaning in his ear.
Rumlow turned back to the monitor to see Romanov's blouse unbuttoned and Dragoti sucking on her tits. Lucky old bastard. Romanov's tits were magnificent. Her ass was magnificent, too. Hell, all of her was magnificent. The Russians probably surgically sculpted her to look like every man's wet dream made reality.
"To be young again so I could enjoy you properly," Dragoti said, sighing. He pressed a button on the door and the window in the partition opened. He shouted a command in his native tongue.
"What's wrong, sugar? We were having a good time."
"Anything to worry about?" Rumlow asked.
The tech guy frowned. "I'm not sure yet."
Words from a translator sitting safe and comfortable in S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters half a world away finally appeared on the main screen. Dragoti: "Park the car and let's see to this American whore."
"Shit," Rumlow swore. He instructed his men, "Get ready."
The limousine turned left abruptly - trailed dutifully by the SUV carrying more of Dragoti's men - and sped down a boulevard. Then it turned right and finally came to a stop on quiet-looking residential street. Dragoti's driver and Dragoti's bodyguard got out of the front and went into the back of the limo.
This was not good.
"You're scaring me," Romanov told Dragoti, sounding frightened.
"Zoran and Arif are just here to help us have a good time. It's good to mix business and pleasure, yes?"
"I want to be with you and only you," Romanov said, clinging to Dragoti, as if seeking protection from his men. Rumlow assumed she was preparing to take him hostage to make his men stand down.
Dragoti chuckled. "Sweet Natalie, I am an old, fat man. A woman young and beautiful like you needs big, strong men. We all have a good time, then we conduct business."
Rumlow readied himself for action as soon as Romanov gave the code to summon backup. The ice-cream truck came to a stop two hundred yards from the limo. It was the closest they could get without arousing suspicion.
"Rollins, you, Blake, and Lopez take the security detail. Chin and Martin, you're with me."
But Romanov didn't utter the code. She just said, "Please, no. I don't want it like this."
"Just enjoy yourself," Dragoti told her.
One of Dragoti's men folded Romanov's arms behind her back and began massaging her already exposed tits. The other removed her sexy 'fuck-me' high-heeled shoes and reached under her skirt to carefully peel her stockings down her legs.
No tearing of clothes, no cutting. They'd done this before. Rumlow swore aloud. How did their intel miss this? Unless their intel hadn't missed it, unless Fury knew and had chosen to send an agent on a honeypot mission anyway. Rumlow didn't know whether to be horrified or impressed.
"Is she wet, Arif?" Dragoti asked.
Arif held Romanov's thighs apart, careful not to block Dragoti's view of her spread pussy. "No, she's dry, boss."
"Make her wet."
Arif dutifully began to lick Romanov's pussy.
Romanov was writhing in the imitation of a feeble struggle. "No, stop. Don't. Please stop."
"Zoran, work those sweet tits harder," Dragoti ordered. "Women like a little pain."
Zoran pinched Romanov’s nipples, then grasped one and twisted it.
"Ow," Romanov exclaimed.
Rumlow couldn’t tell whether her reaction was genuine or whether she was still acting and giving Dragoti what he wanted.
Dragoti tossed a tube to the opposite limo seat. "Prepare her ass."
Arif uncorked the tube and squeezed lubricant onto his forefinger.
"No, no! Not there!" Romanov pleaded, but Arif was undeterred.
Dragoti clapped his hands. "It's time. Show her how real men fuck, not like her weak American men."
Arif unzipped his pants and took out his cock. He slammed into Romanov's pussy unceremoniously, then he pulled her down on top of him. Zoran began working his cock into Romanov's ass.
Romanov was making sounds of pain and moaning, "No, no, no."
"We have to do something," the tech guy said.
"She doesn't want to abort the mission. She hasn't given the code," Rumlow reminded him. Romanov was the Russians' best agent before she defected; there was no way she'd ever forget the code words to call in operatives to extricate her from a mission gone sideways.
Romanov's moaning no longer sounded pained. It sounded like she was starting to enjoy getting double-fucked. Rumlow's cock had never been harder in his life. He wished he was there to shove his cock in Romanov's mouth and make her air-tight.
"That's it," Dragoti said. "Fuck her hard. Make her scream."
Dragoti's men rearranged themselves so that Romanov was suspended between them and they could both thrust powerfully into her.
"Oh," Romanov shouted. "Oh, oh, yes!"
It was so obviously fake, but Dragoti bought it.
"Fill her with your seed," he ordered.
Dragoti's men practically came on command. Then they deposited Romanov in Dragoti's lap. Dragoti slid two fat little fingers into Romanov's pussy and scooped out some of his men's semen.
When Dragoti brought his semen-coated fingers to her face, Romanov opened her mouth and meekly accepted the load. She sucked the old man's fingers like she was sucking his dick.
Rumlow had heard rumors about how well the women of the Black Widow program were trained, how thoroughly. He'd dismissed the rumors as mere salacious gossip-mongering, but now he wondered if perhaps the rumors were true.
"You are a good girl, Natalie. Tell your boss I will do business with you anytime," Dragoti said. He pushed her off his lap to sprawl at his feet.
"You'll make the introduction to your supplier?" Romanov asked coolly, as if she wasn’t lying naked and pumped full of Albanian thug sperm.
"Yes, yes." Dragoti sounded impatient, as if he wanted to be rid of Romanov now that he'd had his fun. "Zoran, paper."
Zoran passed a small notebook and a pen to Dragoti. Dragoti tore off a sheet, quickly scribbled something, and handed it to Romanov. "I will let him know to expect your call."
Dragoti's men exited the back of the limo and returned to their seats in front. Romanov put her clothes back on, and she and Dragoti sat in silence as the limo headed downtown.
"What the fuck," the tech guy exclaimed. "That's it?!"
"The Russians aren't like us," Rollins opined. "She could have killed them before it happened. She could have killed them after she got the information. It's just another mission to her. That's one stone cold pot of honey."
Dragoti dropped Romanov off in front of a cafe. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Natalie. Come see me if you ever need anything else."
"The pleasure was mine, sugar," she purred.
Inside the van a couple of Rumlow's men whistled, the tech guy shook his head in disbelief, and Rollins muttered, "Stone cold."
Romanov went inside the cafe, ordered a cappuccino, and then sat at one of those absurdly tiny tables to drink it. After a good fifteen minutes, she left the cafe and began walking towards the hotel where Natalie Robbins was staying.
They were due to rendezvous in two hours at another hotel across town where they'd set up their base of operations, but Rumlow thought that S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Brock Rumlow needed to be a good friend and team leader and check on Romanov right away.
He was waiting for her when she arrived at Natalie's hotel room. "You alright, Romanov?" he asked, putting just the right amount of concern in his voice.
"Sure," she said flippantly. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Why didn't you call for backup?"
"What for?" she asked, kicking off her high-heels.
Rumlow stared at her meaningfully.
"A good agent does their job," she said flatly. "A good agent doesn't panic. A good agent doesn't terminate the mission and destroy a valuable contact unless the mission is endangered."
It sounded like she was reciting something she’d memorized.
Rumlow carefully moved closer and slowly put his arms around her. "No one would have thought you’d fucked up if you'd aborted this mission, Natasha. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't expect their agents to go along with getting raped."
"A good agent does whatever is required to successfully complete the mission," she said, but her voice sounded brittle now and her body was stiff.
"You're not working for the KGB anymore, you've got rights. You can say no."
She tried to break away from him, but Rumlow held her tight.
"You didn't have to let them do that to you," he told her gently.
And she broke.
Her body slumped and her breath hitched. He could feel her start to cry.
"It's okay, sweetheart," he murmured. "You're okay now."
She clung to him and sobbed.
Rumlow rubbed her back and stroked her hair. He was thrilled to have succeeded in breaking her composure. And her tits felt great pressed against his chest. He wondered if she'd noticed if his hand 'accidentally' cupped her ass.
After a few long, wonderful minutes, Romanov's tears ran their course and she regained her self-control. This time when she tried to pull away, he let her go. Any longer and she might have noticed his cock getting hard.
"Thanks, Brock," she said. "You're a good guy."
He almost laughed, but he managed to smile instead. "You, too, Romanov."
She smiled back.
If he was younger and more brash, he would have taken his chance. He’d offer to help her clean up and take advantage of where things led from there. But he was older and smarter, and he had patience.
He nodded towards the open bathroom door. "You get cleaned up, and I'll see you at the debriefing."
And he left.
He knew he'd get Romanov in bed eventually, and when it happened, she'd think it was her idea.
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Brock Rumlow/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov/Original Male Characters
Word Count: 1,970
Summary: Rumlow pretends to be sympathetic when a mission goes horribly wrong for Natasha.
Warnings: rape, double penetration
Note: Written for Consent Issues Exchange.
"You are a beautiful woman, Natalie," croaked the old bastard.
"You're not so bad yourself, sugar," Romanov replied huskily.
Rumlow watched the monitor, bored. He wondered idly why female agents didn’t insist on getting hazard pay or some other kind of compensation for honeypot missions. If it was him, he'd demand serious compensation for cuddling up to fat old fucks like Dragoti.
Romanov came into view on the screen as she crawled across the stretch limousine to Dragoti.
Literally fucking crawled. Rumlow chuckled. He was going to give her so much shit over this later.
Romanov crawled into Dragoti's lap. "I find that mixing business and pleasure enhances both."
"Ah, if only you came into my life fifteen years ago," Dragoti sighed, caressing Romanov's hair.
"I'm here now," Romanov murmured, before she began kissing the old bastard.
"Can't they turn that damn music off," Rollins exclaimed in annoyance.
Rumlow glanced over at him. Neither Rollins nor any of the other S.T.R.I.K.E. operatives were paying attention to the monitor.
"An ice-cream truck is more conspicuous without its music," the tech guy said to Rollins.
They were packed tight in the van. It wasn’t one of the fancy new mobile surveillance vehicles cleverly disguised as an ice-cream truck; it was an actual goddamn ice-cream truck modified for surveillance. It only barely managed to contain the computers, the tech guy to operate the computers, and half a dozen armed men in full gear.
"Tune it out," Rumlow advised Rollins, in a tone that should remind him he was a S.T.R.I.K.E. - and H.Y.D.R.A. - operative and he was supposed to be above petty bitching.
Rollins was chastened, but the other men began to suggest crass lyrics to accompany the ice-cream truck melody. Rumlow tuned them out, listening instead to Romanov moaning over the comms. With his earpiece in, it was like she was moaning in his ear.
Rumlow turned back to the monitor to see Romanov's blouse unbuttoned and Dragoti sucking on her tits. Lucky old bastard. Romanov's tits were magnificent. Her ass was magnificent, too. Hell, all of her was magnificent. The Russians probably surgically sculpted her to look like every man's wet dream made reality.
"To be young again so I could enjoy you properly," Dragoti said, sighing. He pressed a button on the door and the window in the partition opened. He shouted a command in his native tongue.
"What's wrong, sugar? We were having a good time."
"Anything to worry about?" Rumlow asked.
The tech guy frowned. "I'm not sure yet."
Words from a translator sitting safe and comfortable in S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters half a world away finally appeared on the main screen. Dragoti: "Park the car and let's see to this American whore."
"Shit," Rumlow swore. He instructed his men, "Get ready."
The limousine turned left abruptly - trailed dutifully by the SUV carrying more of Dragoti's men - and sped down a boulevard. Then it turned right and finally came to a stop on quiet-looking residential street. Dragoti's driver and Dragoti's bodyguard got out of the front and went into the back of the limo.
This was not good.
"You're scaring me," Romanov told Dragoti, sounding frightened.
"Zoran and Arif are just here to help us have a good time. It's good to mix business and pleasure, yes?"
"I want to be with you and only you," Romanov said, clinging to Dragoti, as if seeking protection from his men. Rumlow assumed she was preparing to take him hostage to make his men stand down.
Dragoti chuckled. "Sweet Natalie, I am an old, fat man. A woman young and beautiful like you needs big, strong men. We all have a good time, then we conduct business."
Rumlow readied himself for action as soon as Romanov gave the code to summon backup. The ice-cream truck came to a stop two hundred yards from the limo. It was the closest they could get without arousing suspicion.
"Rollins, you, Blake, and Lopez take the security detail. Chin and Martin, you're with me."
But Romanov didn't utter the code. She just said, "Please, no. I don't want it like this."
"Just enjoy yourself," Dragoti told her.
One of Dragoti's men folded Romanov's arms behind her back and began massaging her already exposed tits. The other removed her sexy 'fuck-me' high-heeled shoes and reached under her skirt to carefully peel her stockings down her legs.
No tearing of clothes, no cutting. They'd done this before. Rumlow swore aloud. How did their intel miss this? Unless their intel hadn't missed it, unless Fury knew and had chosen to send an agent on a honeypot mission anyway. Rumlow didn't know whether to be horrified or impressed.
"Is she wet, Arif?" Dragoti asked.
Arif held Romanov's thighs apart, careful not to block Dragoti's view of her spread pussy. "No, she's dry, boss."
"Make her wet."
Arif dutifully began to lick Romanov's pussy.
Romanov was writhing in the imitation of a feeble struggle. "No, stop. Don't. Please stop."
"Zoran, work those sweet tits harder," Dragoti ordered. "Women like a little pain."
Zoran pinched Romanov’s nipples, then grasped one and twisted it.
"Ow," Romanov exclaimed.
Rumlow couldn’t tell whether her reaction was genuine or whether she was still acting and giving Dragoti what he wanted.
Dragoti tossed a tube to the opposite limo seat. "Prepare her ass."
Arif uncorked the tube and squeezed lubricant onto his forefinger.
"No, no! Not there!" Romanov pleaded, but Arif was undeterred.
Dragoti clapped his hands. "It's time. Show her how real men fuck, not like her weak American men."
Arif unzipped his pants and took out his cock. He slammed into Romanov's pussy unceremoniously, then he pulled her down on top of him. Zoran began working his cock into Romanov's ass.
Romanov was making sounds of pain and moaning, "No, no, no."
"We have to do something," the tech guy said.
"She doesn't want to abort the mission. She hasn't given the code," Rumlow reminded him. Romanov was the Russians' best agent before she defected; there was no way she'd ever forget the code words to call in operatives to extricate her from a mission gone sideways.
Romanov's moaning no longer sounded pained. It sounded like she was starting to enjoy getting double-fucked. Rumlow's cock had never been harder in his life. He wished he was there to shove his cock in Romanov's mouth and make her air-tight.
"That's it," Dragoti said. "Fuck her hard. Make her scream."
Dragoti's men rearranged themselves so that Romanov was suspended between them and they could both thrust powerfully into her.
"Oh," Romanov shouted. "Oh, oh, yes!"
It was so obviously fake, but Dragoti bought it.
"Fill her with your seed," he ordered.
Dragoti's men practically came on command. Then they deposited Romanov in Dragoti's lap. Dragoti slid two fat little fingers into Romanov's pussy and scooped out some of his men's semen.
When Dragoti brought his semen-coated fingers to her face, Romanov opened her mouth and meekly accepted the load. She sucked the old man's fingers like she was sucking his dick.
Rumlow had heard rumors about how well the women of the Black Widow program were trained, how thoroughly. He'd dismissed the rumors as mere salacious gossip-mongering, but now he wondered if perhaps the rumors were true.
"You are a good girl, Natalie. Tell your boss I will do business with you anytime," Dragoti said. He pushed her off his lap to sprawl at his feet.
"You'll make the introduction to your supplier?" Romanov asked coolly, as if she wasn’t lying naked and pumped full of Albanian thug sperm.
"Yes, yes." Dragoti sounded impatient, as if he wanted to be rid of Romanov now that he'd had his fun. "Zoran, paper."
Zoran passed a small notebook and a pen to Dragoti. Dragoti tore off a sheet, quickly scribbled something, and handed it to Romanov. "I will let him know to expect your call."
Dragoti's men exited the back of the limo and returned to their seats in front. Romanov put her clothes back on, and she and Dragoti sat in silence as the limo headed downtown.
"What the fuck," the tech guy exclaimed. "That's it?!"
"The Russians aren't like us," Rollins opined. "She could have killed them before it happened. She could have killed them after she got the information. It's just another mission to her. That's one stone cold pot of honey."
Dragoti dropped Romanov off in front of a cafe. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Natalie. Come see me if you ever need anything else."
"The pleasure was mine, sugar," she purred.
Inside the van a couple of Rumlow's men whistled, the tech guy shook his head in disbelief, and Rollins muttered, "Stone cold."
Romanov went inside the cafe, ordered a cappuccino, and then sat at one of those absurdly tiny tables to drink it. After a good fifteen minutes, she left the cafe and began walking towards the hotel where Natalie Robbins was staying.
They were due to rendezvous in two hours at another hotel across town where they'd set up their base of operations, but Rumlow thought that S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Brock Rumlow needed to be a good friend and team leader and check on Romanov right away.
He was waiting for her when she arrived at Natalie's hotel room. "You alright, Romanov?" he asked, putting just the right amount of concern in his voice.
"Sure," she said flippantly. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Why didn't you call for backup?"
"What for?" she asked, kicking off her high-heels.
Rumlow stared at her meaningfully.
"A good agent does their job," she said flatly. "A good agent doesn't panic. A good agent doesn't terminate the mission and destroy a valuable contact unless the mission is endangered."
It sounded like she was reciting something she’d memorized.
Rumlow carefully moved closer and slowly put his arms around her. "No one would have thought you’d fucked up if you'd aborted this mission, Natasha. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't expect their agents to go along with getting raped."
"A good agent does whatever is required to successfully complete the mission," she said, but her voice sounded brittle now and her body was stiff.
"You're not working for the KGB anymore, you've got rights. You can say no."
She tried to break away from him, but Rumlow held her tight.
"You didn't have to let them do that to you," he told her gently.
And she broke.
Her body slumped and her breath hitched. He could feel her start to cry.
"It's okay, sweetheart," he murmured. "You're okay now."
She clung to him and sobbed.
Rumlow rubbed her back and stroked her hair. He was thrilled to have succeeded in breaking her composure. And her tits felt great pressed against his chest. He wondered if she'd noticed if his hand 'accidentally' cupped her ass.
After a few long, wonderful minutes, Romanov's tears ran their course and she regained her self-control. This time when she tried to pull away, he let her go. Any longer and she might have noticed his cock getting hard.
"Thanks, Brock," she said. "You're a good guy."
He almost laughed, but he managed to smile instead. "You, too, Romanov."
She smiled back.
If he was younger and more brash, he would have taken his chance. He’d offer to help her clean up and take advantage of where things led from there. But he was older and smarter, and he had patience.
He nodded towards the open bathroom door. "You get cleaned up, and I'll see you at the debriefing."
And he left.
He knew he'd get Romanov in bed eventually, and when it happened, she'd think it was her idea.