Blood Debt - The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Bucky x Zemo)

Chapter 7

When Bucky had imagined - when he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to be with Zemo, it had been an explosion of pent-up energy. It had been rough, combative, and a contest of wills - something akin to their verbal sparring. He wasn't expecting how much the Sokovian yielded . There was still that clash of masculine energy that made sex with another man so distinct, but he felt welcomed in, drunk in, like the sex was a cool drink on a hot day.

It made sense, really. It was possible that was the first time Zemo had been with anyone since the death of his wife. Even if he had been with someone after that, he had never been part of a prison general population or been allowed conjugal visits. In that context, the other man's hunger was understandable.

It was, right from the start, very intimate. Zemo spoke to him, coaxed him into pushing deeper or harder, to go faster or slower. He murmured little compliments in Bucky's ear in Sokovian, knowing that he would understand. His native tongue was more fluid and almost poetic compared to his English.

If they continued their tryst, Bucky had little doubt that Zemo would become combative, or fight him for dominance. He could feel that potential. But for the moment, he was a man starved for sex, intimacy, and human contact, and he yielded to Bucky.

It was incredibly sexy.

This man, who had controlled and manipulated the fates of some of the most powerful people in the world, gave up his need to be the chessmaster, and gave it up freely, almost joyously. And Bucky was happy to take all that he was given, letting out his own pent-up frustration and desire.

After it was over, both collapsed in a sweaty haze. The practicalities of body weight meant that Zemo rested his head against Bucky's shoulder, one arm draped across his torso. They were quiet for a few moments as breathing returned to normal.

Zemo traced his fingers over Bucky's abdomen, sliding sweat-damp fingers along the ridges of his muscles. "I may detest all that the serum stands for, but it is also capable of creating something beautiful."

Bucky watched the other man, searching his face, examining the lines and the soft crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. At this distance, he could see little kisses of silver in the dark mess of his hair and his beard. He was aging well, and he could picture him with salt and pepper or streaks of silver. He would look regal.

He let the silence ride for a long moment, before asking the question that had been on his mind for years.

"Why don't you hate me?"

Bucky didn't mean personally. Zemo had gone after all the products of the supersoldier program and its legacy programs with a zealot's fury. But he had never felt that bile from Zemo. He was used as a weapon, yes - but a weapon to take down the Avengers.

Zemo's hand stilled and he shifted to look at Bucky. His eye contact lingered, and then he smiled a little sadly. "James, you are not a product of the supersoldier program. You are a victim . I know exactly what they did to you. I may, in fact, know more about what was done to you than even yourself." He sat up more now, and leaned over him. "I have a theory. The soldiers in Siberia, they were out of control, yes? Their HYDRA masters could not control them the way they controlled you."

Bucky's memory flashed back to the facility in Siberia, and the unstoppable fury of the other Winter Soldiers. The air was thick with rage, but also glee as they revelled in their power. He remembered feeling a spike of fear, despite his own programming that taught him to suppress his own fear and subsume it for the mission.

When Bucky didn't answer, Zemo continued, taking silence for confirmation. "You were an accidental success. And they never replicated you, because in their arrogance and hubris, they did not realize what they had done right with you." He reached up and ran his fingers gently through Bucky's hair, slicking back sweat-damp strands. "It is far easier to force a good man to kill than to make a bad man stop."

Bucky wasn't sure how to take that. He could feel his face knotting up in distaste and incredulousness. But at the same time, he knew Zemo was right.

"It seems a natural thing to pick your best and brightest. Those who will carry out their orders. Who seem loyal and strong and brave. But as we know, the serum amplifies everything about someone. You did not choose to take the serum, therefore you did not seek the power. Which made you far less likely to be corrupted by it. The soldiers in Siberia wanted power. They were already killers. So when they were given the power, they felt as gods. You..." Zemo slid his hand down to cup Bucky's cheek. "The things they had to do to you before you'd hurt anyone. And the things they had to keep doing to you to make you comply. You slipped so easily back into yourself, into the good man, the brave man who desperately did not want to be a tool of death. And this was their success. And their great crime."

Bucky felt his breath catching as Zemo reminded him so vividly of his trauma. But he focused on his breath, to the meditations and exercises Ayo taught him to find his centre and calm the panic that threatened to bubble up.

"I've upset you," whispered Zemo as he shifted down again. He rested his cheek on Bucky's shoulder, then shifted to kiss the curve of his jaw. He kissed again, sweetly. He sought Bucky's human hand and interlaced their fingers, squeezing firmly. It was calming. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Bucky whispered hoarsely. He turned his head and kissed the other man on the forehead.

"But I can ask the same question of you," said Zemo. "I framed you. I used you. Stark could have killed you and Rogers."

Bucky was quiet a moment, as he often was. But this time he actually filled the silence before Zemo could speak again. "You wouldn't have had any ammunition if Steve had told Tony the truth. And he deserved to know. But Steve felt that Tony would come after me, and at the time I hadn't found myself. I was still capable of being a monster."

Bucky's memory flashed again, this time to the night he ended Maria and Howard Stark. He remembered every second, remembered killing them both with brutal efficiency and no mercy. He knew he did it, but it also felt like someone else. There was a moment in the fight with Tony in Siberia, that he wished the Iron Man would kill him. Only a desire to protect Steve kept him fighting. If Tony had come at him while he was alone, he probably would have let him kill him. The guilt of what he'd done weighed heavily on his conscience, no matter how much people assured him he wasn't responsible.

"We speak of heavy things after such a nice evening," said Zemo. He shifted closer and squeezed their interlocked hands. "I admire you greatly, James. You are the strongest man I have ever met. I admired you when I first read your files and understood how much they had to unmake you. And how much you had to endure. I believe...that if you had taken the serum willingly, you would have been a second Rogers."

Bucky wasn't a blusher, but that was, in his estimation, an astounding compliment. He felt uncomfortable with the implications, but also flattered. "Are you angling for more sex or something?" he drawled.

Zemo laughed. "Do I need to shower you with compliments for that?"

In spite of himself, Bucky smiled.

"How handsome you are when you smile," said Zemo. "Not that I don't enjoy your grumpy face as well." He leaned in and kissed gently, then again.

Bucky returned the kiss, eyes closing. When he opened them again, he felt something in the pit of his stomach when he looked into the other man's eyes. Something that made him warm and scared him at the same time.

"We should get some sleep. The sun's already up."

"As you wish," said Zemo. "And after we rest, we need to arrange transportation. We must go to Monaco."