These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume.14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp2E3dTZDoZ
A peculiar scent fills Steve’s nose as he wakes slowly. He knows that scent, it is one that still haunts him, that whispers his failures in his ears like prayers. It is the reminder that when all he had to do was hold on, he still managed to lose the only person he truly cared for. The only person he ever loved. But that time has long since passed, there is no conceivable way for that scent to be present anywhere other than in his hopes and dreams. He can feel all of his limbs but there’s a crick in his neck, the result of lying on the cold linoleum floors at an awkward angle. Steadying his breaths, taking deep inhales to mimic the subtle rise and fall of his chest while sleeping, he takes stock of himself. His head feels like it’s been put in a blender and his body aches. It feels as if his limbs have been stretched like a rubber band, pulled taut, before snapping back into place. He feels wrung out, like his muscles have been worked until they have become a liquified soup within the bounds of his flesh only for them to resettle into something strong and familiar. It leaves a million thoughts to run rampant in his mind. What the fuck happened on the star? The last thing he remembers is the grenade and crashing through glass to reach safety with Natasha tucked under his arm. Shifting slightly, the clinking of metal on metal brings his attention to the handcuffs that are shackling him to a chain connected a few feet in front of him. It’s bolted to the floor. Testing the strength of the cuffs, he abandons the pretense of slumber and settles on his knees to yank on them. A searing sensation radiates from his wrists and up his arms. What the fuck is this? There is no time to contemplate what is happening when a click and a flood of light brings his attention to the other side of the room. Once his eyes adjust, he notices that there's a table with strange attachments binding another prisoner in place. That scent brushes against his nose again as he notices that it’s a naked man lying there, unmoving. The sound of clanging metal hitting the linoleum brings his gaze down to his hands. He has just been freed.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Captain.” A voice crackles over the speaker in the ceiling, one he recognizes immediately as belonging to Secretary Pierce. Steve stands shakily to his feet, rubbing his wrists to soothe the marks that will fade in a few hours. “I apologize for all that unpleasantness on the Lemurian Star last night but there weren’t many ways to ensure your cooperation in our little experiment.”
“Where is Natasha Romanoff?” Steve asks, trying to keep his voice level, rolling his shoulders as he tries to get used to the way his muscles seem to be writhing beneath his skin. That scent from earlier continues to seep into his senses. Hints of wood simmering in a campfire mixing in with the crispness of a cool winter breeze cause his tac pants to tighten. It’s the minute notes of burning sugar, reminiscent of molasses, that catch him off guard but still send electric currents through his blood. Such sweetness causes sweat to bead on his brow, he doesn’t remember this scent having this particular aroma. “We were both hit in that blast.”
“She’s with Clint Barton, he’s taking care of her as we speak.”
“What exactly are you doing, Mr. Secretary? Why am I here?”
“Our great nation is at stake, Captain, and we believe you are the only alpha that can help make a change to create a better future.”
As if on queue, the sound of a door opening brings his attention to a few faces he recognizes from the ship. He watches warily as Agent Garrett walks in first, followed by Rollins, Rumlow, and Ward from the STRIKE team. His eyes narrow as Rumlow is the only one to strut into the room with a shit-eating grin pulling at his lips.
“If you’ll take a look, we’ve gifted you a present.” Pierce’s voice crackles through the speaker again.
Steve doesn’t move, he’s rooted to his spot staring at Agent Garrett. There’s a small pin on the agent’s collar with an insignia he hasn’t seen since World War II. It’s bathed in scarlet and that becomes all he sees. He lunges toward the man, intending to throw a punch, when his right arm becomes encased in a black, viscous, fluid. It feels almost cold as it slithers up his arm, binding itself to his flesh. The shape settles around his hand giving him sharp claws. He doesn’t have time to comprehend what that means because his other hand is now equally encased, fortified, and the agent’s neck is in his grasp.
“WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?” Steve rasps out, his voice coming out gritty and deep, not entirely his own.
“Where do you think, Rogers?” Agent Garrett gasps, pulling at Steve’s hand but his grip is too strong. “Hail Hydra!”
A crack rings out and the agent crumples to the floor. Steve registers the crackling from the speaker coming alive again, it momentarily breaks up the red in his vision.
“Well that certainly is not how I wanted to reveal our continued existence to you, alas.” Pierce’s tone rankles Steve, making his blood boil.
“I destroyed Hydra when I crashed that plane.” His voice is quiet, it betrays how he truly feels as his body trembles in anger. Was his sacrifice truly worth nothing?
“And yet, here we are. You merely cut off one head, your death allowed many more to grow in its place. Gentlemen, restrain him.” Steve barely has any time to react before Rollins, Rumlow, and Ward are on him. They are dragging him toward the other side of the room, using his confusion to their advantage. “Like I mentioned earlier, we’ve prepared for you a gift. I’d like you to meet our greatest asset. We call him the Winter Soldier, Hydra’s very own fist.”
Steve stops struggling when he sees the asset. It’s the naked prisoner from earlier, it’s clear that the man is an alpha from the knot fully blown between legs that are strapped into stirrups. It’s odd though, the stirrups are positioned so that the prisoner’s legs are spread wide and bent toward his chest. The scent of that burning sugar hits him at full force then, he looks down below that knot to see a reddened cunt. It glistens with slick, exposed to him and all the other alphas in the room. Transfixed by the sight, he steps closer and inhales deeply. The simmering wood on cool winter winds grows into a roaring fire that only enhances the sweet molasses that penetrates his senses. The combination has his chest rumbling with want, has his muscles shifting and bulging beneath his skin. The hold the three STRIKE team members have on him lessens as he ambles ever closer. It’s at this moment that the small wisp of a whimper catches his ear. It causes his head to snap up. There, looking up at him with bleary and unfocused irises, the color of tumultuous ocean sprays, is the face of the man he thought he lost to time.
"Bucky?” Steve can’t believe his eyes, even the changes in scent make it difficult to truly understand. Another whimper slips from the alpha on the table, bringing his attention to the gag protruding from red, spit-slick, lips. His vision zeroes in on the shimmer of saliva dripping down a dimpled chin.
“Surprised, Cap?” He whirls around to find Rumlow smirking with his arms crossed, Rollins and Ward flank him on both sides. “Hydra found him all those years ago, made him into what he is today.”
“Rumlow speaks the truth, Captain. But right now, we’d like for you to mount the asset and breed him.” Pierce’s crackling voice seems to grate on his ears, he itches to turn back to Bucky but something is wrong. His blood is boiling in a way he’s not used to, his pulse is racing faster than what is normal for him. His palms grow clammy with sweat and his vision swims. The bitter tang of distress and sorrow clashes with the building rage in his scent. His blood burns with his want for vengeance. “He has a fully functioning, unsullied uterus and vagina now, it should make using your enhancements on him easier for the both of you. Should you break anything during this testing period, I encourage you not to worry too much about it. After all, order does come through pain.”
“Enhancements? Uterus? What the fuck have you done to me?” Steve shakes his head, backing away from Rumlow and his cocky smirk. “What have you done to him?!”
“You should be happy, Cap. You’ve got your pal, your Bucky, back.” Rumlow cackles. “I, for one, am excited to see the show. He screams real pretty when you slap him around a bit, maybe you can do that when you fuck him.”
"No.”
“No?” Pierce’s voice in the ceiling sounds disappointed but not shocked at Steve’s response.
“No. I refuse to force myself on him, on anyone. I won’t do it.”
“Well, if you don’t, we have three willing volunteers ready to take your place.”
“What’s the matter, Cap, can’t get it up?” Rumlow teases. Chuckles from Rollins and Ward slither their way into his ears, mocking him, taunting him. “Don’t worry, we’ll make your Bucky into our sex slave in no time.”
His muscles pulling tight like a rubber band and bursting forth from his skin is the only warning Steve gets before his vision is consumed in a sea of black and red. A tar-like substance, black and viscous, covers his entire body as he grows several inches taller, destroying his stealth suit in the process. His already excellent eyesight is sharper and his sense of smell, acute. Looking down, he sees that his entire being has been fortified by the strange fluid, he feels even stronger than he did when he first received the serum. His razor sharp claws slash through Rumlow’s chest before he lunges, ripping a chunk of flesh right from his neck. Blood and sinew fills his mouth and he moans at the taste before diving back in. The savor of human flesh doesn’t even phase him as he continues to devour an unsuspecting meal. A sharp pop and an irritating pinch in his back shifts his attention to the other members of the STRIKE team, Rollins and Ward. They’re standing with their guns pointed directly at him, there’s a glint in their eyes that puts him off. The wisps of smoke wafting into the air from Ward’s gun makes that pinch he felt all too clear. Inhaling deeply, Bucky’s scent seems to pour down his throat. The souring bite of distress subtly permeating the still burning sugar flays his thoughts, sears his already boiling blood. It makes his cock thicken more and it hangs freely, too heavy in this new form but that doesn’t deter him from his new quarry. A manic grin that pulls at his mouth, exposes what feels like multiple rows of jagged teeth. He can see the moment Rollins and Ward’s fear takes over, deep cackles rumble in his chest.
They will wish for death, Captain. A voice he doesn’t recognize rattles around in his thoughts. It’s distorted but bass-like and gurgling as if something is caught in its proverbial throat. Give it to them.
Steve doesn’t understand what comes over him or who it is that resides in his subconscious now, but he finds that he simply doesn’t care. Lashing out with his newfound claws again, he tears into his adversaries. The scent of blood makes his heart race in excitement, the sickening crunch of bones being crushed plays in the background as he pillages through Rollins and Ward’s bodies. He bites through their flesh, ripping their arms from their sockets. All manner of bodily fluids spills from them as he leaves bloodied and gaping holes where their hearts should be, it makes his mouth water. He pouts when there is no more to eat.
A new scent catches his notice, it’s almost like lavender but the sweetened edge makes him roll his shoulders in anticipation. He lifts his head to the ceiling to catch the sight of purple flurries fluttering in the air. The particles remind him of snowflakes, the shade reminiscent of hyacinths. When the flurries touch his skin, he begins to sweat anew. The adrenaline pulsing through his veins from the slaughter that just took place leaves his belly somewhat unsettled. He isn’t hungry for food anymore. The scent of hyacinths mixing in with the still burning sugar wafting off of Bucky’s body makes his cock fill anew. His gaze hyper focuses on the still glistening cunt between Bucky’s legs, on the knot that looks angry red, and like a predator stalking its prey, Steve stalks toward the table where his old friend lies.
His focus is only on the wetness between those thick thighs, the cunt that is steadily dripping slick into a large puddle that seeps off of the table and onto the floor. Steve pays no attention to the way Bucky’s legs tremble, he neglects the grating sound of metal cuffs clanging against the metal from Bucky’s arm as his prey begins to violently shake. The burning sugar, the roaring fire on a midwinter’s wind war against expiring molasses as fear takes hold. It’s the scent of Bucky’s fear that makes his cock pulse, that makes his blood heat with want. Taking the last few steps toward the table, he rests his heavy cock next to Bucky’s. It’s still covered in black fluid and the difference in size is large. A distressed whimper rings out, loud, in the room. He looks up to see the fear written plainly in those expressive eyes. The purple flurries are still fluttering about the room, they settle on Bucky’s skin, more settle on his own. They’re making it difficult to focus. His body wants to ram his cock in the nearest hole and rut until his knot pops. Looking down at the glistening cunt before him, he realizes that it’s entirely too small. Inhaling deeply, he tries his level best to calm his heart rate. It takes awhile but the telltale sensation of his muscles shifting beneath his flesh alerts him that his form has changed. Taking stock of himself, his body no longer holds the shade of pitch liquid that moves fluidly on its own. With a feral grin, he takes hold of his cock and places the tip just inside a pair of perhaps the prettiest set of lips he’s ever seen. Almost immediately, he meets resistance, he cannot move any further. He pays no mind to the fearful whimpers playing in the background, to Bucky’s thrashing beneath him. He merely tightly grabs hold of one thigh and shoves his cock inside. The wail that splits his ears much like his cock is splitting Bucky’s cunt in two, sears his thoughts. It almost breaks the hold the lust has on him but Steve finds that he is being reduced to a sex slave himself with the vice grip Bucky’s pussy has on him. It’s sucking him in, causing him to release a guttural growl. Pulling back so that the head is resting just inside, he sees that his cock is covered in blood. Reaching down, he swipes a finger against it before raising it to his lips. The moan he lets out is sinful, if he had known Bucky tasted like this he would have taken him ages ago. Slamming back in, he relishes in the scream that comes from Bucky’s muffled throat.
Bucky’s cunt is so tight Steve loses all manner of control. He fucks Bucky at a brutal pace and releases a howl of triumph when Bucky finally stops thrashing. His pulse picks up again, his muscles begin to shift, his eyes widen as his body becomes covered in black fluid, as his cock begins to grow inside. As the resistance grows, Steve continues to force himself inside. When Bucky’s cunt finally gives way again, the tearing of flesh rings out in the space between them. To the music of slapping flesh, wails, and whimpers, Steve renews the fervor of his thrusts. He looks down to watch as the result of his fucking leaves trail of blood and black fluid gushing onto the table.
You are a special breed, Captain. I am going to enjoy possessing you.
Steve’s thrusts don’t falter at the voice that rings out in his thoughts, he is enjoying himself way too much for that. Instead he leans over Bucky, to use his lengthening tongue to lick away the tears that are profusely falling from his unwilling lover’s face.
Who are you?
It matters not who I am. Just know that you and I? We are Venom.
“Steve?” A battered and raw voice catches his attention, it causes him to look up and see that Bucky has broken through the gag.
This one is strong, we like him. We’ll keep him.
Yes, we will.
Steve picks up the pace again as barks of laughter rattle in his head. The wails and whimpers evolve into pained moans before pleasured gasps slip into the mix. Those breathy gasps are what does him in. He slams inside of Bucky’s cunt one more time before his knot pops. A satisfied growl rings out in the room as Steve is victorious in the taking of one Bucky Barnes. Leaning over, a rumbling emits from his chest at the wetness he encounters there. To know that he brought his lover to release as well causes that rumble to simmer into a purr and he nuzzles the mating gland on Bucky’s neck.
It’s the answering purr that causes him to bite down hard on the gland there like a reflex. His eyes roll into the back of his head at the clench he feels on his knot, at the yelp slipping from Bucky’s lips. The bond snaps into place in his soul and another heartbeat settles next to his own. Releasing the gland, he laps at the bite mark and lets a predatory smile stretch his lips. Looking into glassy, ocean grey eyes, he whispers into bloody lips. “You’re mine.”
“Yes, Steve, I’m yours.”
He watches as Bucky’s eyes close, smiling at the realization that he has successfully worn his new mate down to the point of exhaustion. When he looks up at what he figures is one-way glass a few yards in front of him, he gets the distinct feeling that he is staring directly into the gaze of Alexander Pierce. His lips curl into a devious grin, half of his face transforms, and manic laughter rings out again in his head. It makes a giggle slip past his lips. The giggles evolve into full on guffaws mirroring that villainous cackling in his thoughts. He keeps laughing as he destroys the harnesses keeping Bucky in place. He keeps laughing as he wrenches his knot out of Bucky's bloody pussy and picks up his beloved in a bridal carry, before turning toward the sole door in the room. His laughter tapers off slightly as he is met with ten members of a STRIKE team he doesn’t know or feel like dealing with. They all appear wary and Steve smirks at the supposed display of Hydra’s power.
“I’m sorry, Captain. We cannot allow you to leave.”
Another bark of laughter erupts from his chest as he feels his muscles shift again, his body growing in size and only stopping once he is fully transformed. His claws grip securely onto Bucky, his teeth elongate into fangs, his tongue lovingly caressing them.
“Who’s going to stop me?”
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