Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2779832.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Marvel_Cinematic_Universe, Captain_America_-_All_Media_Types, Captain
      America_(Movies)
  Relationship:
      Brock_Rumlow/Original_Male_Character, Jack_Rollins/Original_Male
      Character
  Character:
      Brock_Rumlow, Jack_Rollins
  Additional Tags:
      A/B/O, omega!Rumlow, Alpha!Rollins, Hail_Hydra!, HYDRA_Trash_Party,
      STRIKE_Team_Alpha, dubcon, Child_Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, in-universe_sexism,
      Prostitution, background_pedophilia, Non-Explicit_Non-Con, background
      rape, Hydra_culture, Whatever_is_necessary_to_get_the_job_done, Blow_Job,
      public_blow_job
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-12-16 Words: 3064
****** Loyalty, in a mirror dark ******
by Andartha
Summary
     The thing is this:
     Hydra will use their agents for whatever is necessary to advance
     their purposes.
     For a young omega Agent, who has been burned by an Alpha's fickleness
     in the past, this creates a lot of good opportunities to prove his
     worth to himself and to his masters.
     Unfortunately, things don't always go as planned.
Notes
     While spitballing about the culture within HYDRA, as well as Brock
     Rumlows' and Jack Rollins' past in the 'verse for Weirdlet's
     absolutely gorgeous "Fools Rush In", we came to the conclusion that
     a)
     Sex is a versatile tool, whether for bribery, distraction or
     blackmail purposes, and if you pretty much OWN the people you assign
     to those jobs, it's also dirt-cheap.
     So HYDRA, being cost-effective, probably makes a habit of whoring out
     it's agents.
     b)
     In all likelihood, HYDRA trains and indoctrinates its' agents so
     loyalty and usefulness are core qualities every HYDRA agent must
     possess.
     An incompetent agent of questionable loyalty is a dead agent. It's a
     kind of natural selection, really.
     As a result, the credo HYDRA agents live (and die) by is "Whatever it
     takes to get the job done".
     In that sense, Hydra agents are taught to calmly accept that, if a
     the mission demands it, they can and WILL get left behind.
     c)
     Given Rumlow's backstory in "Fools Rush In" , as a young agent, he
     totally would try to prove to himself that he's over what happened by
     screwing around to his heart's content
     d)
     HYDRA wouldn't hesitate for even a second to make use of this
See the end of the work for more notes
  This work was inspired by
      Fools_Rush_In by Andartha, Weirdlet
The thing is this:
Hydra will use their agents for whatever is necessary to advance their
purposes.
They largely operate in an environment where sex is just another form of
currency, something versatile and cost-effective, that can be used to distract
a mark, bribe an official or blackmail a key figure in a particular gambit.
Brock's....enthusiasm....doesn't go unnoticed and one day, he's pulled into the
office of the local head of Human Resources.
"Strip." she orders him with a brisk voice, and Brock watches her with a cocky
grin as she inspects him with a clinical eye from top to bottom.
He obediently opens his mouth as she checks his teeth, bends over so she can
run her hand over his ass and between his legs, holds still as she runs her
fingers through his hair.
Once she's done, she leans back against her desk, looks at him over the top of
her wire-rimmed spectacles and quirks one eyebrow at him.
"Kid, for what I have in mind for you, you have the body and, as a little bird
tells me, the inclination to match. Your new set of assignments will see to it
that you participate in a diverse range of OPs. It’ll be good for your career
to expand your horizon beyond your usual work. However, it will require you to
hone and improve the necessary skill set. Right now, you're no more than an
ambitious amateur. For our purposes, we need you to be a well-trained
professional."
He's not sure what exactly he expected when he got called into her office, but
as she explains HYDRA's plans for him, he has to work at keeping that cocky
smile on his face as unwelcome memories from back home intrude, memories of how
he used to run hot and cold and then grit his teeth helplessly when he heard a
whispered “slut” behind him as he pushed his shopping-cart through the aisles
of the supermarket, well-knowing he couldn’t afford to start bashing in teeth
with a baby on the way.
Funny how things change.
Three months of spreading his legs and of keeping his mouth nice ‘n open as he
learns the tricks of the trade in a VERY expensive brothel and he discovers
that there is a certain power to be found in the word “whore”.
When he comes back, he's learned how much he can drive another person wild with
just his tongue.
He knows how to map out people's most sensitive spots and how they'd like you
to touch them in under 5 minutes and how then to use that knowledge to make
them beg.
He knows how to apply his battle-won strength and flexibility to wrap himself
around another person's body in over thirty kinds of highly pleasing manners
and boy, does that bring all the Alphas to the yard.
Forget about milkshakes, really.
He's gotten not half-bad at applying some make-up to accentuate his features
either, which is damn useful when it comes to switching between personas,
playing either the femme fatale or the ingénue, whatever his marks are more
into.
He also no longer has a gag reflex and he doesn't flinch anymore when groped
painfully in delicate places, no matter how sweaty, bony or nicotine-stained
the hand doing it is. He has even learned to smile sweetly as it happens and
say "Yes daddy, please, just like that."
The missions he goes on because of his newly acquired skill-set ARE as diverse
as promised, with great variation in terms of type of target, mission
parameters and mission objectives. He likes the ones best where he gets to slit
his mark's throat as messily as possible, after.
On rare occasions, they're solo missions, though more often than not, he plays
the honeytrap some team needs to meet their goals.
Tonight's special though, because he might or might not end up as a bribe and
Rollins is tagging along, so if the prospective associate turns out to be NOT
as interested in him as anticipated (and that's entirely possible, the guy's
preferences were listed as very variable), there's a good chance him and
Rollins can go clubbing together, celebrate their STRIKE team making "Rho" a
week ago. And hey, it's not like they aren't already dressed for the occasion
or anything.
Jeff Hanson, a senior special agent with the Arm of Acquisition and Allocation,
is in the process of negotiating a contract with a weapons-dealer in Innsbruck,
a lengthy process that involves a lot of "getting to know you" meetings and
apparently the man has shown a taste for blond little omegas on several
occasions. So Brock's not usually blond, but hey, whatever is necessary to get
the mission done.
Grinning in front of the restroom mirror, Brock adjusts his too tight t-shirt,
applies an almost imperceptible touch of pink lip-gloss and musses up his hair
a bit before heading back into the club where their little conference is taking
place in one of the private booths at the back.
As he makes his way across the dance-floor, twisting and turning his body to
the beat, sliding past all those deliciously gyrating bodies, he can't help but
chuckle, because man, his team is SO going to rib him about going goldilocks
once he and Jack get back stateside.
He slides past Rollins, who is standing in front of the booth, a little to the
left, playing "tough security type", winking at his STRIKE brother as he does
so, Jack glaring back all disapproving, half in character and half for real.
Looks like Jack is still a bit pissed because Brock used the VIP pass to that
Diamondbacks game Rollins got him as a birthday gift to sneak into the locker
room after the game and give No. 41, No. 45 and No. 84 a very special thank-you
for winning the game. But hey, wasn't him having fun the point of getting a
birthday present?
Rolling his eyes a bit at Rollins' back, Brock sidles up to Hanson on the soft
leather seat and snuggles up to him, preening and displaying his wares.
Steinmann, the weapons-dealer, gives him a short grin and salutes him with his
gin tonic and Brock licks his lips slowly and suggestively.
Sliding back in his seat, Steinmann's expression turns all sharp teeth and
hungry anticipation and his gaze flicks downward, to his crotch.
Brock knows this song and dance, and in one fluid motion, he slides beneath the
table and up between Steinmann’s thighs, who is already wrestling with his belt
buckle with fat fingers.
It takes just a second to gently nudge the man’s hands aside, stopping for a
moment to suckle on the guy’s fingertips and lick the palm of his hand, and
then deftly opening the weapon-dealer’s pants and baring his dick and balls.
As Brock runs his lips over the Steinmann’s rapidly engorging cock, ducking
down low so he doesn’t bump into the man’s beer-belly, he sighs inwardly.
On one hand, he’ll probably be free to go partying with Jack after this
evenings’ negotiation is over, since Steinmann looks too fat and too easily out
of breath to go more than this one round tonight….on the other hand, the funky
smell around this guy’s nether regions could take down an elephant and Brock’d
rather get fucked by the guy, with hopefully a nice condom between them.
Ah well….his orders are clear and it is not his place to bitch about minor
annoyances like this.
Hail Hydra.
It takes Steinmann ages to come and Brock really has to work for it, putting
his tongue and mouth in places he’d much rather he didn’t have to. His scalp
smarts, because fuck, of course the jackass is REALLY into hair-pulling, and
his mouth now tastes like a nest of slugs died there and he can’t wait to hit
the next bar together with Rollins. Fuck, he needs a drink. A whole bottle of a
nice Irish Whiskey if possible.
At least listening in on the negotiation was interesting. Hydra’s offer isn’t
half-bad, but Steinmann really did his homework and is a skilled networker, so
he has a cushy little BATNA to fall back on if his demands aren’t met. Hanson
isn’t willing to fork over more money, but he’s offering a few nice perks that
almost nobody else would be able to supply.
Brock slips back up into his seat, resuming his position at Hanson’s side,
making sure to throw a long, slow, wanton smile in Steinmann’s direction before
he settles down. Never hurts to flatter his marks a bit.
Steinmann doesn’t bother to smile back. After all, the “cute omega Hooker” that
Hanson brought along has fulfilled his purpose.
Instead, Steinmann seems a bit distracted, trading some final pleasantries with
Hanson, his gaze fixed…..on Rollins.
Now, Jack is a well-trained black-ops operative.
His focus is on the room and the people beyond their private booth, but yeah,
he’s also keeping an eye on the people talking in the booth he's guarding and
like most trained soldiers, he also has an instinct for when somebody is
watching him.....and here and now, there’s a subtle tension in the way that his
STRIKE brother is holding himself that does not bode well and that wasn't there
before.
Fuck….there’s been stuff going on up here that Brock didn’t catch because he
was blowing Steinmann under the table, and this looks bad.
There’s not much that will faze Rollins, who is usually the epitome of being
chill and keeping your cool under fire, but something Steinmann has done where
Brock couldn’t see has rattled the tall soldier. No, not good at all.
Brock glances at Steinmann from underneath his eyelashes, a languid smile on
his lips, trying to find a hint that will tell him what the weapons-dealer has
been up to, while determined not to betray his worry. And yeah, the shark-like
expression that has sprung up on the weapons-dealers’ face, all fish-cold eyes
and bared teeth, is by no means reassuring.
Steinman turns to Hanson, pointing in Jack’s direction with his Cohiba, almost
smoked down to the stump, and grins nastily.
“You know something Jeff? Bringing a sweet little omega like yours to heel,
fucking them hard and knotting them as they cry and try to squirm away is one
thing…..but you know what I’ve always wanted? To fuck and knot an Alpha like
that one. One that could break your neck in a second, but who won’t because
he’s been told to be a good little boy. A fighter with blood on his hands, and
just for you, he has to lie there and take it, whichever way you want him to.
Now THAT’S a power-rush.”
And Hanson grins, secure in the knowledge that he just cinched the deal.
“Gee, Max, why didn’t you say so right away. Just sign the contract, and he can
be yours for a week.”
Steinmann and Hanson start haggling about the details and Brock feels like he's
gonna puke all over the table.
Jack doesn’t have many hang-ups, none of them do, HYDRA either beats them out
of you or kills you if they become an obstacle…..but this? Yeah, this is about
the biggest hang-up Jack still has.
And he knows, because when Brock met Jack for the first time, it was in a
supervised living group home for young delinquents, where people's past was a
secret about as deeply buried as the fact that Santa isn't real.
Brock was fresh out of prison, his parole come early on the word of one John
Garrett, and Garrett had dropped him off here, told him to heal up and train
hard, get himself into a good starting position for greater things, and to keep
his eyes peeled because there were others like him here, other potentials ("No
kid, not telling you which ones, wanna see just how good your observation
skills are.")….and then Brock had been shown into the common-room by the house-
mother, sauntering in, the battered pack with his meagre belongings slung over
his shoulder and acting like he owned the place, and he’d looked at the young,
lanky Alpha who’d parked his behind in the middle of the thread-bare couch
while he was re-taping a hockey-stick…..and both of them had just known.
Hail Hydra.
Turned out Jack’s stint in prison had been a lot longer than his own. Jack was
18, just like himself, but he’d been behind bars since he'd barely turned
thirteen.
Rollins’ mom died when Jack was just seven, and apparently, his step-dad had
felt that the brat he’d been settled with, and which wasn’t his own, should
earn his place in the household by doing more than just the dishes.
And yeah, the fucker had regularly knotted the young Alpha, got his rocks off
real good from holding down Jack as he cried and writhed in pain, stretched
beyond bursting around the bastard’s cock.
When Rollins was 12, dear ol’ step-dad forgot to lock the gun-cupboard. Jack
got out his mom’s Colt M1911 and shot the asshole when he came in through the
door after work.
Regardless of the circumstances, the local judge and jury had put Jack behind
bars, making nasty noises about "premeditation" and "excess of force", but
despite this, just like Brock, Jack had gotten out on early parole.
For both of them, breathing air that didn’t come filtered through iron bars for
the first time in too fucking long was a damn blessing, and they both had
Garrett to thank for that.
Here and now, standing guard in front of a private booth at a fashionable club
in Innsbruck, Jack's holding it together remarkably well, considering, but
Brock can see the fine tremors running across Rollins’ back, which started up
the moment Steinmann made his proposition, and yeah, it's not like his STRIKE
brother was deaf or anything.
Fuck. Brock would do anything, even a week back in Hydra’s SERE training, if he
could just pull the Osborne Folder knife he’s got tucked away in a sheath on
his ankle and spill Steinman’s guts over the floor.
But that’s not an option, is it?
Because they are HYDRA and they will do whatever it takes to get the mission
done.
They have spilled innocent people’s blood for the purpose of bringing about
order and peace in the chaos that is the world today.
Complaining about it when it’s their own blood being spilled would make them
hypocrites.
And they might be liars and con-men and killers, but hypocrites they ain’t.
So this?
This is nothing.
Steinmann might decide to get kinky enough to send Jack into surgery, with
maybe a week or two in recovery, but the man has an established business and
he’s about to close a contract with HYDRA.
He won’t risk the nice cushy get-up he has going here by disrespecting their
organization and violating the terms of use that Hanson is setting up right now
for Jacks upcoming little tour with the guy.
THIS is a nice and easy way for Hanson to get a good deal for HYDRA, Brock
knows it and Rollins’s knows it, so yeah……..Jack will be doing this.
Or rather, will spend three weeks getting done by Steinmann, as it turns out.
Brock brushes Jack’s hand as he leaves with Hanson, a brief touch that might
just as well have been an accident, and he doesn’t turn around to look at
Rollins as they leave, instead whispering “You don’t know what you’re missing,
sweetie” in Steinmann’s ear as he passes him and then laying on thick the
sensuous swish of hips as he and Hanson head for the exit.
He prays that Steinmann will come to regret his choice, will find an Alpha a
less satisfying choice for a bed-companion than an Omega……and fuck, Brock can
play wounded and scared and crying with the best of them if he has to……but he’s
felt Jack’s hand tremble beneath his as he touched it and he knows Steinmann
will keep Rollins for the full three weeks.
While writing up his report for the mission later on, he upgrades Steinmann’s
profile in the “Sexual preferences” category from “very variable, with a slight
preference for blond little omegas” to “degradation of others, the higher the
challenge, the better. Has an instinct for homing in on vulnerabilities even
with unlikely targets.”.
The same day, he goes and buys the booze Rollins’ likes, cheap Kentucky
bourbon.
The day Rollins’ gets back from Steinmann and goes straight to medical, just as
expected, he gets cooking: mac ‘n cheese, sour cream noodle bake, muffin melts
and mocha brownies….all of Rollins’ favourites.
He puts all of it in the freezer, save for one mocha brownie, which he takes to
Jack as he goes for a visit.
Jack’s trading raunchy jokes with the nurse as he comes in, but won’t look
Brock in the eye or say more than three words when Brock sits down by his side
and takes his hand.
The day before Rollins is due to get released from medical, Brock cleans his
apartment until everything is fresh and pristine, and then burns some
delicately scented candles, mainly vanilla and cinnamon, nothing too strong, so
the comforting scent will linger a bit for a few days without being too
obstrusive.
The day Rollins is cleared, Brock picks him up at the base and brings him home.
The moment he pulls Jack inside, across the threshold of his apartment, and the
door clicks shut behind them, Jack huffs quietly, brokenly, as if his throat
were stuffed with thorns and glass, but he lets Brock tug him down onto the
large, well-worn couch and wrap himself around Jack’s shaking form.
It’s a good thing Brock saw to it that his living quarters are well insulated
and that he unobstrusively jammed the bugs this morning, so none of the awful,
choking sounds Jack makes in his arms get out.
It takes hours.
They both know they will be o.k. and live to see another day when Jack, his
head buried at the crook of Brock’s neck, mumbles more than whispers “Hail
Hydra?” and Brock chuckles and ruffles his bond-brother’s hair, the answering
“yeah…….Hail Hydra” light on his tongue for the first time in weeks.
End Notes
     Concerning the A/B/O dynamics in this fic:
     All male presenting tend to have knots, regardless of their status as
     Alpha, beta or Omega, but the size and shape of the knot varies.
     In rare cases, Alphas might let themselves be fucked.
     In even rarer cases they might let themselves be knotted.
     It's a HUGE sign of trust and affection if they let you do that
     though.
     The most degrading thing you can do to an Alpha is to rape them and
     knot them against their will.
     Rollins' background story is based on stories like this one:
     http://news.google.com/
     newspapers?id=U7QSAAAAIBAJ&sjid=cfkDAAAAIBAJ&hl=de&pg=7172%2C1621666
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