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Steve’s next visit got right to the point, a fist in Zemo’s hair the second he stepped in through the doorway, already clawing his clothes off as he pinned him against the wall. It was a ragged threat of a kiss, lashings of tongue and hard fingers pulling his turtleneck over his head. With his pants shoved down past his hips, Zemo responded to it with just as much urgency as he could, but found himself challenged, beat back, one broad hand moving to pin his own to the wall above his head, naked and writhing as Steve took him up into his fist.
“Where’s your pet?”
“Sleeping,” Zemo lied, groaning as his hips jumped to chase Steve’s hand. “But let’s not wake him. I want you to myself.”
“Of course you do. You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you, Helmut?”
Zemo groaned his approval, and made no resistance as Steve used his wrists to pull him away from the wall in a vicious, burning pirouette before pinning him face forward against the flocked wallpaper. It felt soft against his cheek, a contrast to Steve’s free hand which poked and pushed inside him with rough, wanton fingers.
Dry fingers.
“Steve… Fuck , what’re you–”
“The friction’s better like this, baby, and I know you like the stretch and the burn.”
It most definitely was not, but what could Zemo do? The ruse under which he and Bucky had assumed their respective identities in this hellverse required that he not risk his cover over small disagreements. There were signs that the Zemo of this universe did like pain - he certainly didn’t hesitate to inflict it, apparently - and so refusing Steve’s advances based on his discomfort might be too much of a red flag that something was wrong.
Enduring it made more sense, but god it was a brutal exploration, deep and probing with Steve exerting impossible force with his fingers to stretch him open. It felt almost vindictive, which wasn’t improved much by Steve introducing the head of his cock to the fray, huge and broad and also much too dry, pushing into him inch by inch as Steve held him in place with one powerful hand.
During all those years in prison, Zemo had occupied himself with fantasies just like this one. He’d had a very long time with not much to entertain himself with but the cell block radio, a handful of books and his own fist. The latter was what afforded him the most enticing options for escape. Fantasy. Inventing narratives where he found himself passed between the Avengers, or required to make up for his transgressions on his hands and knees. Imagined visits of Steve Rogers coming to punish him, holding him by the hair and fucking him dry, just like this.
But reality was much more painful than fantasy. Reality stung, and it ached, and Steve didn’t give him room to adapt, he just started pounding into him viciously fast, hitting so hard at the apex of his thrusts that it felt very quickly like he was trying to fuck him right through the wall.
The fantasy began to fray at the edges, and Zemo groaned his complaint, shoving with his hips and his knees to try and push himself toward Steve and relieve the pressure, or somehow ask for him to relent. Steve’s answer was to lift him two inches higher, his toes not quite able to touch the floor, dangling from his wrists and pummeled cruelly by Steve’s cock, and Zemo just couldn’t tell what was happening anymore.
Was this something he wanted? Was it being given in the spirit he thought he’d been expecting it to be, just a little sadistic fucking between old friends?
The answer came with Steve’s growl into his ear thirty seconds after he’d filled him with his come. A dirty, filthy snarl that pressed up close and turned Zemo’s blood to ice:
“I knew there was something wrong with you the first time you kissed me.”
The next few minutes were vicious. The floor came up to meet him, then the edge of the table, then the table was gone and Steve had a knee on his chest, shoving him on his back on the floor and crushing the air out of his lungs.
“Where is he?”
When Steve threw a fist, it was hard enough to make Zemo’s teeth rattle. His mouth was already bloody from the previous strike, copper on the tip of his tongue and a windy sound in his right ear that he could only hope wouldn’t be permanent. Considering a super soldier could throw a punch that was lethal in about four hundred ways, however, Zemo was considering himself lucky that Steve’s anger hadn’t progressed beyond a brutal fuck and trying to ply him for more information on Bucky’s whereabouts.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Zemo purred through a frothing mouthful of blood, before spitting it right into Steve’s face. He received a jarring backhand across the mouth for his efforts.
“When we find him, we’re going to reprogram him. You get that, right? But not the nice kind of reprogramming with the electric shock and cryostasis. We’re going to do it right this time, and kill every ounce of spirit he has to be anything other than the Winter Soldier.”
“Because that’s HYDRA’s answer to everything, isn’t it?” Zemo laughed, and he shoved with the most futile effort he had at Steve’s knee, glowering up at him. “If there’s opposition to your world view, simply crush it until it’s too broken to even try to resist.”
“Look around you. HYDRA has already won. We own this world, and now we own you.”
Zemo hummed, tilting his head back very slightly. “You think I’m afraid of that? You know him. He can move faster on his own, stay better hidden, do more damage. But I’m here , aren’t I?”
The knee lifted away from his chest. If anything, Steve looked that much more angry than he had before, and he proved it by wrapping a fist around Zemo’s throat, pulling him off the ground by just a few inches. “You planned this?”
“He’s been gone for three days, right out from under your noses. If we’d both disappeared, no doubt he wouldn’t have gotten so far. But perhaps he’s already found allies amongst your enemies, hm? That will make it worth it; worth whatever it is you do to me as punishment.”
Zemo narrowed his eyes, pushing himself just the few inches off the ground he could manage so he could press his face in closer to Steve’s, threatening in his own way as his voice dropped lower.
“Because fuck HYDRA, fuck the Supreme Leader, and fuck you . You’re all going to hell, and I get the distinct pleasure of letting you know that the Winter Soldier will be the one sending you there.”
This time Steve’s fist made everything go blissfully dark, but not before the Captain smiled at him, a sinister expression that promised Zemo would live to regret his threats.