Come across you lost and broken

[puncheshitlerforjustice]

Rogers, I've got a job for you.

Yes, ma'am? I need to run some tests.

You'll help me out, won't you?

That's how it started. A simple request for help that Steve couldn't deny. If he really wanted to, he probably could, but saying no to Stark was near impossible. There was always something she would say or do to get him to her side. A flick of her hair, a curl of her finger, a sharp smile, practically anything would work on the blond.

He had tried to keep it professional. Tried to set that boundary between military personnel and consultant. Of course they had worked together. Hazel helped him win the war. Sure, her methods were a little questionable, but the war was won. Freedom prevailed, and Steve was able to bring most of his men back in one piece. While there were celebrations, he'd kept their relationship platonic regardless of what she would do. She'd drape herself over his arms, ask him for a dance, or ask him to go out for drinks. Every time she would push their boundary just a little more.

Every time he'd nearly give in. 

That was how he found himself in the lab the first time. She wanted to check his healing rate. See how fast most wounds would take to heal. Of course he agreed to it. He had suffered worse it the war. This would be nothing.A simple cut, a bruise, a scratch, none of it bothered him too much. Sure, it hurt, but it he knew it wasn't life threatening.  Plus, he was helping Hazel out, which was more than worth it to him. However, he didn't expect to like it.

How could he like the feel of the metal slab against his skin or the restraints that chafed his wrists? How could he enjoy feeling of the flogger, or knife, or whatever instrument Stark decided to use on him? How was that normal? And how could he let her ride him when he was hard? It wasn't normal and it wasn't <I>right</i>. But the thing was, he couldn't say no. Every time she would make an appointment in her little black book, he would be there on the dot. Every time he would tell himself he wouldn't show up, but come 8:30 pm, he'd knock on the lab door.

Today was no different. He had no idea what was planned, but it was 8:30 again, and he was as prepared as he could be. He took a breath and knocked softly on the large wooden doors.

Comments

[flyingcars]

Saying that it had started innocently enough didn't seem fitting for what it was, yet in some ways it had. It hadn't meant to be sexual, when Hazel had asked him into her office the first time. It had been with the full intent to experiment on him, and that was why she had kept it quiet at first. It was controversial. People would ask questions. Human experimentation was a heated debate with all that had been revealed by the nazis, let alone HYDRA. Part of her had even felt guilty asking, but on the other hand, it was important. Steve was unique, there was no one like him in the world, and Erskine hadn't left the formula to the serum for her to recreate. And then of course there was the issue whether or not it actually did matter who you gave it to, as he had theorised. That it, in a way, attached itself to part of the soul, where good became better, and bad became worse.

Part of it was curiosity, another the desire to prove herself, but that was something she had been trying to do her whole life. He was, in some ways, her greatest creation, even if she had only helped in part. She wanted to understand it fully, him fully, part of her wanted to try to recreate it, though that was something she hadn't even shared with him. But how could she not? Her whole life she had been fighting to prove that she was good enough, smart enough, creative enough. That she could do anything a male counterpart could do, and more. The fact that it was her weapon designs, her contributions to the Manhattan Project, her help creating Captain America that had helped win the war, too often she was still brushed aside. Sure, there were those who believed in her, but the general tone was still that she was a woman, and so she couldn't know best.

Steve was one of those who believed in her, and maybe she had used that to her advantage, if she was honest. Maybe she had used the fact that she was a woman, too, she had batted her eyelashes, let her hand linger on him, smile at him like he was the only man in the world. She hadn't expected him to fall for it. Maybe that was why she sometimes still felt guilty when he was laid out in front of her, on the metal table, or when he was kneeling in front of her with his hands behind his back, the wire digging into his skin.

This was part of it, she claimed. He had to be able to withstand torture. She wanted to see what his body could take, and if his mind had been strengthened as well. The first time she had whipped him she hadn't expected to come to face him again, only to be faced with tenting in his pants.

Since it had been a slippery slope, the two of them together. It had become more than she had planned, more than she had wanted, but now she couldn't imagine it as anything less, and wouldn't want it as anything less either.

She wouldn't admit it, but she was waiting for him, for the knock, but still she took her time answering the door, as if she was busy and had other work she could be doing, he was just another appointment. But she gave him a small smile when he arrived, stepping aside to allow him in and closing the door behind him.

"How is the cut on your chest healing?"

[puncheshitlerforjustice]

He stepped in and allowed her to close the door. Of course she was a busy woman-she was always busy. But the small smile she gave him was something he noticed and he ducked his head a bit to give her a smile back. Those didn't come too often from her, so it must have been a good day. He was sure that wasn't just because he was there.

"It's fine. Mostly healed, now."

He glanced down at his chest. The cut that she had inflicted had been deep, deeper than anything that Steve ever had inflicted on him since the war. Even cuts from enemy soldiers hadn't been that deep or brutal. Of course nothing vital was hit, but it was still deep and if he was a normal person, he might have been down for at least a few days. Fortunately, he happened to be a super soldier and the cut was now nothing more than a red slightly tender mark on his chest.

The thought of it made him almost want to lay right on his back of that table and have her do it all over again. That was a problem, right? He shouldn't want her to do that to him, but the thought of her shackling him down and having her way with him again was enticing. She could tie him down and demand that he pleasure her with his tongue and there wouldn't be anything he could do about it. He...shouldn't like that, right? It wasn't right.

But he was with her, and he knew that that was right, even if the circumstances were questionable.

And even if he sometimes thought that it would be nice to share a bed like a couple of normal people, he was still okay with this arrangement. It was all under Stark's control, and he was more than happy to let her take the reigns of this... arrangement. She had the control she wanted, and he was able to see her another night. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for him, at least for the meantime.

"I think if we leave it alone for a while it'll heal in a few hours."