#like case aside vasquez just keeps getting embarrassed up there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

purge-that-urge-rhackathon · 5 years

Note

Prompt 53 from the list; if you dont want to you dont but I'd love Vasquez saying it to Rhys just b4 Jack comes in and saves the day Afterwards sexytime Rhack is always great too ;D

This was like, the best goddamn prompt anon, both in terms of substance and ooey-gooey tropes BLESS YOU. Also, Vasquez doesn’t survive this one folks LOLOL Nothing too horrible happens to Rhys here; ya’ll know my content and I’m not ready to get into total non-con area juuuust yet xD You can check the tags on ao3 if worried tho ^___^

From this prompt list :) 53 was “Do you think you can keep quiet for me?” This labeled as The Executive Treatment. My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here. Also found on my ao3 here.

–

“I know how much you’ve wanted this, Rhys.”

He didn’t want it, though. Maybe that was the whole point. And maybe Vasquez knew that, too.

The blackmail he had over Rhys could destroy him. And it’s what currently had him bound by the wrists over the bigger man’s wide desk in Hyperion-made tech with his pants around his ankles. He couldn’t back out even if he wanted to; both from the manacles and fear of a fate far worse than letting Vasquez do whatever he wanted to him.

“Y’know, men like us shouldn’t have to put up a front for what they want,” he continued on, not at all perturbed by Rhys’ silence or red-faced glares, and why should he be? He was fully clothed after all and not bent over a desk, after all. “You gotta just reach out and take it without shame. That’s what power really is, Rhys. I can appreciate the theater of it, of course; all bark and no bite,” Vasquez said as he stroked down Rhys’ lower back to caress the bare cheeks of his ass. “Never took you for the dramatic type. Though, I’ve gotta say, you’ve got bigger balls than I thought.”

Figuratively, of course, though it was courage bought from fear that had him bent over against his will. Rhys would never be here and never offering up his ass to his hated rival if not for the very real threat of a live-flaying. This was hardly about sex and everything about power. And Vasquez knew that, of course; peppering in reminders of why Rhys was here in case he thought to give Vasquez trouble.

“…Or is it just the circumstances that made you brave? Either way, I win.”

Rhys didn’t answer, and he was pretty sure the other man didn’t expect a response, either.

It didn’t stop him from bringing his hand down on Rhys’ ass, though, wrenching out a surprised yelp that echoed in the large office and brought further shame-red to Rhys’ face. Vasquez did it again, harder this time, that damn golden pinky cutting through the sting of the smack to almost make Rhys jump at the firmer pain as he bit his lip to stay quiet.

His legs he could’ve closed but for the foot Vasquez kicked them apart with, but he couldn’t move much more than that, prone over the desk with Vasquez’ other hand lazily pushing him down. The restraints were well-made by the company after all, and the hard steel didn’t even protest against Rhys’ cybernetic arm as he tried to curl in on himself even the smallest bit. He wondered if this would actually be worth his life, and if just the once would do it. Vasquez had implied that this was his price, after all, but there were no explicitly-stated terms between them; just the threat that the bearded man’s silence came at a high-price, and right now, that price would be paid or else.

“You’re being rude,” Vasquez’ deep voice almost sounded pouty, the hand coming to rest gently above one of Rhys’ asscheeks not lulling the bound man in the slightest. “It’s almost like you don’t want to be here…”

Rhys snorted and turned his head what little he could manage. It was enough to catch the smirk on Vasquez’s face, and the glint in his eye that said he thought he was far better than Rhys even now. Though Rhys was full of shame at the corporate secrets he’d passed along, he still had personal pride, and he was ready with a sarcastic response. “Shouldn’t you be used to this? I’m pretty sure this is the only way you ever get laid.”

Vasquez huffed, the pout on his face turning into a thinking frown. He glared down at the other man, but that confident gleam to his eye remained. “Well, if you don’t like it, Rhys, I can let Handsome Jack know he’s got a spy in his midst…” He chuckled at the genuinely-terrified gasp that Rhys let loose, and the easy smirk on Vasquez’ face came back. “How do you think Handsome Jack would feel to know his personal assistant has been feeding Maliwan information, hmmmm? I’m pretty sure that would be professional suicide. Or at least, that’s how they make it look. Or so I’ve heard.”

Rhys’ whole body went tense at the reminder of how much Vasquez actually knew. The files he’d accidentally sent to an incorrect echo frequency were enough by themselves for him to be airlocked. That the files had been intercepted by Maliwan, however, was a guaranteed painful death if Jack ever found out.

Yeah, Jack liked him as far as bosses liked their personal assistants, but the information had ultimately resulted in a lost negotiation for Hyperion– a direct correlation, Rhys knew, as Maliwan had contacted him to mockingly thank him for the heads’ up on what was to come, and expected continued insights if he didn’t want their CEO getting wind of it.

Jack was still irked by it, enough to mention it even months later, whenever the rival company came up in conversation. Maliwan’s price hadn’t been too steep, actually. Rhys was good with numbers and chose his losses carefully, and so far his paltry offerings of tidbits of information here and there had kept a sort of stalemate going for a miniscule advantage. He hadn’t wanted to get drawn in deeper, but by now he’d handed over multiple pieces of information and had no idea how to get himself out of this mess.

That it had to be Vasquez of all people who picked up on the fact only added insult to injury. Small mining deals he knew he could reassign Jack’s soldiers to enforce for him shouldn’t have taken much notice. And sending a few ‘bonus’ products in trade deals with weapons not yet released to the public gave Malian a heads-up, perhaps, but truly didn’t impact Hyperion’s bottom line. It was little, potentially-harmless things like that that he’d hoped no one would notice, but somehow, Vasquez had.

Rhys had been controlling the situation the best he could, and was managing a happy stalemate while he still tried to figure out his exit-strategy and hide what he’d been doing from Jack.

Vasquez though… As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, Vasquez was not someone he could control. Not since he’d beaten the other man out of the very position he now held as Jack’s right hand man; something Vasquez had taken as a mortal offense and personal theft. After all, Jack was the most powerful man in the universe. It was a power that extended to those who worked directly under Jack, making them normally untouchable out of a fearful respect for the CEO.

And it was a power that Rhys was terrified of being turned against him. Maybe he hadn’t been thinking straight when he agreed to this little ‘meeting’, but the bluntly-stated proposition that Vasquez wanted Rhys crying on the end of his cock– or he could cry from the torture Jack would subject him to- had Rhys indignantly dropping his pants and leaning over the desk with as much furious poise as he could muster.

Vasquez demanded he submit to being bound for this exercise in humility; he knew what Hyperion cybernetics were capable of, and he wasn’t going to allow Rhys to fight him on this matter when he was balls-deep inside of him. Rhys would take exactly what Vasquez would give him until he was totally satisfied that Handsome Jack wouldn’t be needing any anonymous info packets the following morning.

“You know, Rhys, I’ve always been fond of your voice, but this office isn’t entirely sound-proof, I’m sure. Do you think you can keep quiet for me? Wouldn’t want anyone walking around at this hour to know why you’re here, would you?”

Rhys refused to dignify that with a response, his whole body tensed while he kept telling himself– begging himself- to relax. For his own good.

Vasquez ironically huffed at being ignored, and his hand came down across Rhys’ ass again, hard, and Rhys’ legs kicked out on reflex. He caught Vasquez across a shin as the bigger man cursed and stepped back, rubbing the area and muttering in pain.

The quick steps towards him told Rhys that Vasquez wouldn’t take that for the accident it was, and he backhanded him across the face. It made Rhys bite his own lip, his tongue immediately searching out the sting to soothe it. He tasted copper and tried to focus on that; remind himself that the alternative to this was being tortured before his body eventually gave out. This was nothing to being experimented on by R&D. Being a traitor was almost worse than embezzling from Handsome Jack himself; he could endure this to save himself from that.

“I was gonna go easy on you at first,” the bigger man said as he grabbed a handful of Rhys’ hair to look at him properly. They glared at one another with open hate. “Regardless of what you might think, I’m actually a considerate lover. But I Get the feeling you wouldn’t much appreciate that, would you?”

“Fuck you,” Rhys muttered pathetically, embarrassed at the strength of his own voice; the helplessness he was definitely feeling in both situation and action.

“That’s the whole point, but still, rude.” Vasquez dropped his hold on Rhys’ hair unexpectedly and Rhys dropped a bit faster than he’d have liked back to the cold of the desk. Vasquez’ hand found its way back to his lower back, and he kicked Rhys’ legs aside again so they were spread enough that he wouldn’t get inadvertently kicked.

Though he was still fully clothed, Vasquez grabbed the smaller man by his naked hips and ground himself against his ass, and Rhys valiantly stayed absolutely silent, not making a nose to the cloth erection being ground against him. Vasquez groaned appreciatively and cocked his head to try and look at Rhys’ face during this particular humiliation. “You know, I’m less inclined to share your secrets if you act a little more enthusiastic, Rhys.”

Rhys felt a lump form in his throat at the combination of fear and the indignity of what Vasquez wanted. As if being fucked by him wasn’t already bad enough, he wanted Rhys to show appreciation for being dry-humped? Rhys wasn’t sure he could pretend that, and he realized as his cybernetic arm tugged in vain on the metal holding his wrists to the desk, that it must’ve been a reinforced alloy of some kind and not steel. He was truly and utterly at Vasquez’ mercy, and furthermore, he had no guarantee that Vasquez wouldn’t just leave him here to go and report him even after he was done.

There were some muted sounds from outside the office doors as Vasquez was really working himself up against dry-humping Rhys’ ass, followed by a kick that was loud enough not to just be passing janitors. Vasquez was mid-stride to see what the hell that was when the locking mechanism was shot out, electric-sizzling and the smell of ozone in the air before the security system was totally disabled, and in strode Rhys’ savior and terror all wrapped up into one gun-toting CEO.

Rhys laid prone where he was, not moving and knowing any attempt at hiding himself was entirely in vain. Vasquez stood where he was halfway between the office doors and the desk, hard-on still protruding from the front of the pants he wore. Jack took one quick sweep of the situation he’d just walked into, lingering on Rhys’ terrified face a moment, and twirled his gun in his hand playfully.

“I have been calling and calling my hot little PA’s number for over an hour now and I just had to track down his comm and see what was so goddamn important he’d ignore me over. And I really gotta say– what’s happening here?- Not super impressed right now.”

“S-sir I can explain… Rhys-” Vasquez started expectantly, looking down at the half-clothed man forcibly bound to his desk with slapped-red asscheeks and his chin stained with a fine line of crimson from his bitten lip.

Rhys knew an opportunity when he saw it, and didn’t speak or come to Vasquez’ defense. Instead, he locked eyes with Jack– very aware of his own defeated body language- and the look in the CEO’s eyes made his heart speed up all the more. He looked away quickly, biting his lip and wincing as the movement made the cut there bleed anew.

Whatever Jack saw in Rhys’ own eyes had worked, because as Vasquez’ stuttered denials turned into pleading and bare accusations, there was a second shot of Jack’s gun, and a shocked inhalation followed by a muted thud some steps away from the desk where the bearded man had tried to quickly flee.

Jack whistled lowly, moving towards Vasquez as the man was in the throes of death, and quickly searched his pockets until he found what he was looking for. He left the still body as he approached the desk once more, and Rhys was still laying there, silent, barely registering the fact that Jack was uncharacteristically silent as well, and he was still strapped down.

Did Jack already know? Was this a coincidence? …were the dirty fantasies on the echonet fanboards actually true?

No, this wasn’t some fantasy. Jack had just killed Rhys’ longtime rival, and he himself had committed base corporate treason and was strapped down half naked at the mercy of the most powerful man in the universe. Any arousal he had at the idea was suddenly drowned in anxious fear.

Rhys felt his heart pounding in multiple areas; the side of his neck that Jack could break so easily; against the desk from within his chest that a bullet could easily pierce.

The rush of blood in his ears, and his vision going in and out, completely distracted from the older man’s approach, and only the smell of the gun discharge in his nostrils finally drew Rhys back enough to his senses to realize that Vasquez was most certainly dead on the floor, and he could very well be next.

Rhys turned his head dumbly towards Jack, dazed and confused and frozen with fear. The frown on Jack’s face wasn’t indicative of anything good. Rhys feared for his life.

“Y’know,” Jack said as he reached into his pocket and leaned against the desk, shooting Rhys’ ass a pointed look the younger man could see, “I’ve had an awful lot of fantasies that have started this way…”

Rhys found his voice, licking his split lip with a wince. “Jack I–” He was struck mute as the restraints binding him clicked with a mechanical whirr, and everything recessed back into the desk without a trace. Jack tossed the unlock mechanism back towards Vasquez’ body but otherwise stayed leaning on the desk right next to Rhys.

Rhys rose up just a little– slowly, as if to test how free he really was- and exhaled shakily as he curled his palms into fists, fighting his renewed fear of the man at his side. Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire. Just because he’d been freed from Vasquez did not mean he was safe. He was scared to lift himself further, but slowly, slowly stood.

“Buttercup… Not that I don’t think it’s kinky as fuck, but just what the hell do you mean by bending over for that asshole? Ever? I mean, I’m all about hate-sex, but Wallethead himself?”

Rhys could feel his heartbeat pick right back up into a terrified tatoo against his ribs. Could it be possible Jack didn’t know the things he’d done? Was there a way out of this? Jack didn’t suffer traitors easily. He’d seen people dropped down the hatch in Jack’s office for way less.

“Hey…” Jack’s voice turned serious. “Rhysie… Talk to me here, baby.”

If he could just play it cool long enough to get his ass off this space station, maybe he could disappear somewhere… Somewhere beyond the reach of the companies. Though that idea was hardly realistic, unless–

“Fuck. Hey, you freakin’ out in there or what?”

–he could fake his own death? He was good at programming… if he survived this encounter here, then maybe hacking security footage and using an O2 mask–

“Rhys.” Jack’s hands found their way to his shoulders, and Rhys’ eyes finally snapped to his own, widening a bit as if he just remembered where he was, who he was with, and that his pants were still around his ankles. Jack cupped the younger man’s cheek in his hand, stroking with his thumb as he studied the pallor on his face. He gave Rhys’ shoulder a reassuring squeeze with his other hand. “It’s okay, pumpkin. I was just teasing. What the hell did he do to you? I thought I got here in time but maybe I killed him too quickly now,” Jack said with a disappointed look at the still-warm body.

“I-I’m alright,” Rhys stuttered, lifting a shaking hand to Jack’s wrist and holding it there. He couldn’t help it; even terrified of what might be his last few moments, he still wanted Jack; craved the comfort he was offering. Rhys genuinely liked Jack, and they usually got along so well, too. Jack often complained after meetings that Rhys was the only one on this space station he could stand. It was only going to cut that much deeper when Jack found out.

It’s not like it was his choice to betray Hyperion, but he knew the CEO well enough by now to know it didn’t matter. But he wanted what few moments of comfort were given before the final shoe dropped, and relished in the warmth of Jack’s thumb stroking his cheek. “I’m okay.”

Jack huffed a little, lips twitching into an uncertain smile. “How’d he ever get you here, kiddo?” the older man asked with real concern, his question obviously referring to being trapped against a desk. “Why didn’t you call me on your echoeye? …that wasn’t consensual right, Rhysie?”

“He was blackmailing me,” Rhys stated simply, an answer to all Jack’s questions.

“Yeah, yeah I gathered that when he was calling you a traitor moments before I blew his brains out.” Rhys wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Jack correctly guessed the source of his distress. “This about that Maliwan shit, ain’t it, princess? Unless your sordid little life is more interesting than I ever thought.”

Rhys’ jaw dropped and all the blood fled his face. “How did you–”

“First of all, I’m all-knowing,” Jack bragged with a haughty smirk. “And second– you sent those messages from my desk that day, remember? When I took a nap on the couch?”

Rhys would remember that day for the rest of his life as it had ultimately gotten him in the exact situation he was in right now. It had been a Friday, and Jack had taken apart Rhys’ monitor as it kept having compatibility issues with his echoeye and the personal patches Jack had done to help him be more efficient.

Jack had had Rhys do his work from his desk while he customized the younger man’s workspace to better suit him, and Rhys had handled multiple communications that day. It had been in a moment of distraction at a lame ‘data-size’ joke Jack had made that Rhys had sent the detailed plans to the incorrect address, and had only noticed it the next day because that address had contacted him and told him exactly what he’d done and what he’d continue doing to buy their silence.

“We got lunch that day, remember? I sent you home early and I didn’t go back to the office until Monday morning. You left your mail open at my desk, buttercup. I’ve known what’s going on the whole time. You’ve been handling it like a pro, so I’ve only been keeping an eye on things from a distance.”

Rhys was close to hyperventilating, but Jack still stood there as nonchalant as he had, as Rhys tried to meet his eyes. “A-Are you going to kill me?”

“Hey, I saved you, if you don’t recall,” Jack grumbled with a dismissive look at the still-warm body. “Why would I kill you? For fucking that asshole? I mean, I won’t lie, I am jealous as hell, but talk about unne–”

“I never slept with Vasquez….” Rhys trailed off weakly, realizing how stupid he felt saying so as he was still standing there with his whole dick and balls out for anyone to see; though he didn’t want to draw further attention to that fact by pulling his pants back up. It wasn’t like Jack was looking anyways, though that might’ve been because the CEO was preoccupied with the obviously-spooked expression on the younger man’s face, and giving his shoulders reassuring squeezes.

Rhys looked up a moment from his pondering as his brain suddenly processed the fact that Jack said he was jealous over the idea of Vasquez fucking him…. Even with the idea Rhys thought he’d been selling Hyperion out.

The look Jack was giving him was somewhere between the pout the older man liked to pull when asking Rhys to cancel meetings for him, and the playful smirk he usually reserved for poking fun. He clearly wasn’t teasing right now with the way he occupied Rhys’ space. Rhys dumbly repeated his denial of involvement with Vasquez, any other words currently escaping him.

“Then what’s the problem?” Jack’s hands were gentle on him, but Rhys knew what the older man was capable of. Jack’s eyes kept jumping all about him, as if he could see what was making Rhys so cagey if he only looked hard enough.

“I don’t understand… Not that– Don’t take that to mean I want to die,” Rhys quickly got out, afraid to accept that he was possibly going to get out of this alive. “But why aren’t you, like, shooting me? You bring up that deal we lost all the time…”

“Seriously, kiddo? One, I’m brilliant, and that would be a huge waste. And yeah, I like to win so I’m still annoyed at those assholes thinking they won that time, but you’ve given me an opportunity I haven’t gotten anyone to pull in a long time.”

Rhys looked at him blankly, and Jack just smirked and gave him a gentle pat. “You’ve got those idiots to trust you. They think they’ve got you by the balls. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you cherry-pick what intel to give them.” Jack grinned as if all the information and access Rhys had been giving to business rivals was somehow a good thing. The CEO rolled his eyes as Rhys clearly wasn’t getting it; as if anything about this conversation was normal. “What I’m saying here, princess, is that they know your information’s been good, and they know you haven’t compromised them by telling me. Otherwise ‘Big Bad Handsome Jack’ would have blown you out an airlock already.”

Rhys was still confused how any of this was good news, but Jack still didn’t seem upset with him. If anything, he seemed pleased. Rhys really wanted to pull his pants back up right now, but he didn’t want to break the spell of whatever this benevolent mood was.

He also didn’t want to have Jack let go of him to make such a movement, drawing strength from the hands on his shoulders.

“What I’m sayin’ is, you’ve opened up the perfect opportunity to sabotage them from the inside. Once I’m ready to give the word, we’re going to feed them bad intel and really take ‘em apart. Hoooo that almost gives me a stiffy, I can’t wait for those dickbags to realize what we did.” Jack chuckled to himself with a grin for the younger man.

“You’re… really okay with all of that?” Rhys asked seriously, watching Jack with a hanging hope as the older man smiled at him.

“Not only okay with it, but I want you to keep it up. If you have trouble deciding what info you wanna give those losers, we’ll make something up, okay? I’ve got enough money lying around to throw those idiots a bone if they still think you’re working for them. It’s an investment I’ll collect on when the iron is hot, or however that shit goes.”

It was strike when the iron is hot, Rhys knew, but didn’t want to give Jack any ideas about striking anything while he was still pantsless. “I seriously cannot believe you’re okay with this,” Rhys muttered with something of relieved shock. “The last person who sold company secrets got sent down to R&D, and they still haven’t come back.”

“Yeah, put ‘em in the hybrid breeding program or something, I don’t know. Anyways, pumpkin, even if that wasn’t the case, I still wouldn’t kill you. You are way too damn cute and that would put a huge damper in my chances of someday getting laid,” Jack said with a half-joking tone, though the look in his eyes smoldered a bit as he smiled in implication.

Rhys couldn’t believe things were going completely his way. Jack wanted to… to fuck him? Even after all of this? Jack found him attractive? Like, yeah, he wanted Jack, but who on Helios didn’t? That Jack was genuinely interested… Well.

“I’m just… I am so relieved you found out, actually,” Rhys laughed a little, unhinged at just how perfect everything had gone. His rival was dead, his attractive boss didn’t want to kill him, and apparently, all his jerk-off fantasies were going to come true if Jack was to be believed.

“What, kitten? You think I don’t keep regular tabs on anyone close to me?” Jack purred dangerously into his ear. “What’s that saying? ‘Keep your friends close but hop into bed with your enemies’?”

That made Rhys’ heart give a little fearful lurch, but he couldn’t help the snort it got out of him, either, as he decided he believed the older man. “I don’t think that’s the phrase, Jack,” he said softly with a little smile growing on his face as Jack grinned shamelessly. “And I’m hardly your enemy.”

“Hardly, huh?” the older man teased as he somewhat crowded against him in correctly reading the signals. “Heh, get it Rhysie? ‘Cuz your pants are down, and it’s making me hard.”

It had to be one of the stupidest things to have ever gotten a laugh out of Rhys, but he could blame that on the adrenaline still running through him, and the sheer relief that he wasn’t about to be murdered.

“There’s my little princess,” Jack said with a grin, boxing him in with hands on either side of the desk. Rhys was still chuckling, cheeks red, as Jack wasn’t through. “Or maybe I shouldn’t say little anymore, hm? …Grower, not a show-er, sweetheart? This guy finally getting in the game? What did it? The talk of screwing over Maliwan, or the part where Jack got to play the big hero?” he teased.

“It’s adrenaline,” Rhys discounted quickly with a smile, though he supposed Jack about had it right; who in their right mind would get a boner for their boss when moments before he thought said man would murder him? Let alone get aroused with a body in the room? He wasn’t even ashamed of it to be honest. Chalk it up to the thrill of still being alive. “And my dick size is– Why are we talking about that right now?” Rhys genuinely laughed, about ready to reach down and pull his pants over the semi he had going anyways, but loathe to break the proximity of Jack’s nearness.

Warm puffs of breath went over Rhys as Jack lightly chuckled and moved in just a tad closer; either teasing or testing, Rhys wasn’t sure, but the hand the younger man wrapped about the outside of Jack’s shoulder gave an encouraging squeeze, and Jack’s smile widened.

“You’ve got two choices here, buttercup,” the older man said with a smirk that did nothing to quell the plumping of Rhys’ cock, “And I’ll respect whatever you choose. We can cover that up,” he said with a quick glance down between them so Rhys knew his meaning, “cover that up,” he said with another look in the direction of Vasquez’ useless shell, “and you can go back to being the best damn PA I’ve had in a long, long line of unprofessional idiots, and I won’t press it any further, or,” Jack said with an edge of uncertainty Rhys wouldn’t have caught if he didn’t know the older man so well, “you can let me show you just how irreplaceable you are on a less than professional level, and how very much I don’t wanna kill ya. Whaddya say?”

Rhys’ heart rate picked right back up from where it had been finally calming, but this time he wasn’t afraid. The exact opposite, actually. “You mean–”

“I guess I did cockblock you, right?” Jack joked with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Technically, I mean,” he mocked a little, then smirked, emboldened by the squeeze Rhys’ hand gave his arm. “And here you are all… pantless with no dick-being-sucked. It’s a travesty is what I’m saying, kitten; dicks being out, left un-sucked. It’s un-Hyperion. Goes against everything my brand stands for.”

Rhys couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him, and it was a small movement to lean the top of his head on Jack’s shoulder, shaking with laughter and relief and holding tight to the older man to try to reign it in. Jack himself couldn’t have been more delighted by that, and Rhys could feel the smile against his skin as Jack turned and spoke, lips just barely kissing his jaw.

“Whaddya say, pumpkin? How would you like a little executive treatment, hmm?”

Jack’s lips pressed chastely against Rhys’ jaw as the younger man pressed into the gesture, and Rhys stood back up to smile, allowing Jack to take his chin in his hand and press their lips together. The action stung where he’d bit himself, and Jack licked his own lips as he pulled away, wrapping both large hands around Rhys’ hips and smirking expectantly.

“…Please?” Rhys asked, wanting the comfort, the ironic safety the older man represented, and everything else he had to offer.

Though he’d alluded to it already, Jack still surprised him by dropping to his knees in front of Rhys, hands on the younger man’s thighs as he came face to face with his cock, and wasted no time getting himself quite acquainted.

Rhys was learning a lot about himself today. Namely, that he probably wasn’t as good a person as he thought he was if he was able to get fully hard and enjoy one hell of a blowjob with a body in the room, but also that he’d been willing to go a great distance to protect his own interests– which he was a little proud of- and that his little crush on Jack, along with his hero-worship of the man, was definitely not going to change any time soon… even when potentially fearing for his life.

None of that mattered right now though, because as great and as varied the skills that Jack was rumored to have were, it didn’t prepare Rhys for the reality of the CEO on his knees completely taking him apart with his mouth alone.

That was okay though. He had a feeling that Jack was going to be there to put him back together again, too.

–

kofi | ao3

#rhack #borderlands fanfic #handsome jack #rhys the company man #tftbl #there's rhysquez if ya squint i guess? not NICE rhysquez tho LOLOL but goddamn i really love vasquez xD #i almost wish this was a rhysquez prompt because i was having a lot of fun xD Vasquez going to town on rhys' ass aaag THE THIRST #LOLOL i might continue this in the future when i have more time. I had a LOT of fun writing it anon :D #literally started it right after opening your ask yesterday morning hehehhe GOOD SHIT thank you!! :D

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astarryon · 6 years

Text

Hard Feelings Part 2

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Warnings: None

A/N: inspiration hit me heavy for this update, and I think I’ve finally decided on the direction I wanna take this series. I hope you like this one! A bit angsty toward the end, but I promise the fluff will be rolling in soon Until then, enjoy!

Part 1

Aside from the very specific case of Bucky Barnes, you seemed to be excelling at making friends in the tower. Steve had taken the initiative to call a group meeting among all of the people residing in the tower for the time being in order to introduce you, which pretty much meant that you were now acquainted with all of the Avengers. And to think you’d been star struck when you had met Steve just a little earlier that morning.

“So which one of us are you here to babysit?” Clint, who was reclining against Natasha’s side, lightheartedly questioned you. “It’s not me, is it? I’d hate to be on Fury’s shortlist of ‘misbehaved individuals’.”

“Sorry to say, but I think everyone in this tower is on that list,” Tony Stark quipped, walking over from the counter he’d been standing at for several moments and depositing a glass of water into your hands. You smiled at him in thanks, sipped from it for a moment, and then set it down on the coffee table in front of where you and Steve were sat.

Sam Wilson, who was perched on the arm of the sofa beside you, scoffed. “Speak for yourself, tin man. My behavioral reputation is spotless.”

In an effort to put a stop to the bickering, Steve raised his voice above all of the chatter. You smirked a bit, unable to keep from chuckling at the fact he seemed like a father chastising his misbehaved children. “Y/n isn’t here to babysit anyone, guys, come on. She’s been assigned to Bucky’s, uh, therapy detail.” Conveniently, Bucky happened to be the only person missing from the room; you got the sense that hadn’t been an accident on his part.

At the sound of Steve’s words, a hush had fallen over the large group before you. Wanda, her wide eyes glancing at you in sympathy, sheepishly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; the main emotion you were currently getting from her seemed to be one of sympathetic surprise. Bruce Banner’s predominant emotion was one of outright panic, and the rest of the group’s feelings seemed to complement the tone.

Well, everyone’s emotions aside from Tony’s.

“Rest in fucking pieces, you poor soul,” he muttered from under his breath, unable to help the guffaw which escaped him directly after. “Fury seriously didn’t get the memo after the last one?” That earned a couple of snickers from the group around you, and you found your interest piqued in a morbid fashion.

As an agent of SHIELD, you had obviously heard some details about what happened to those who were assigned to Winter Soldier duty; it was why you’d been so hesitant to agree to this so called promotion in the first place. Nobody would say so out in the open, but everyone regarded being given this particular assignment as a form of quiet punishment from Nick Fury. There had been many days when you and your colleagues had sat and laughed together at your lunch time, discussing the small tidbits of gossip and knowledge you had all managed to glean from your superior officers. Lena Vasquez, your closest friend, had been the one who always managed to gain the most information, and somehow always won the bets you and the rest of your group would place on how long the next psychologist who was sent to stay at the tower would last. As hard as you tried, though, you couldn’t seem to place who the last assignment had been, or what had become of them.

“Oh my god,” Natasha laughed. That was a little weird to see; each time you’d pictured Natasha Romanov, you thought of her has someone to be feared. Of course, she was definitely intimidating, even if she was currently casually cuddling Clint. It was just, on the list of things you had expected to witness in your life, seeing Black Widow in blue jeans and a messy ponytail hadn’t been something you’d deigned to pencil on. “Morgan was here for like what, three days?”

“Yeah, and then Farrah Fawcett Hairspray threw the biggest tantrum this side of the country,” Tony muttered. The irritation which must have been tied to the memory bubbled up to the surface, extending out from Tony’s words and seeping into your skin. “Took me three weeks to get that glass replaced. Insurance doesn’t exactly cover somebody getting thrown from a 93rd story picture window; that shit came out of my pocket.”

“Your name is plastered on buildings all over the city, Stark,” Sam quipped. “I’m sure you can afford a damn window.” You might’ve laughed at all of the chuckling and grumbling going on by everyone around you if you weren’t suddenly so concerned for your own survival, and at the casual mention of an attempted murder.

“He… he threw someone out of a window?” What had you done? What had you done to make the universe become this dead set against you? Scratch that, actually; who the hell had outed you to Fury and when was going to be your next available chance to sock them in the jaw?

“It was fine,” Clint offered, the fact that he was attempting to do damage control coming across as mildly insulting, considering the fact that he was still laughing. “The guy only fell one story, okay? The balcony broke his fall; Buck knew it would.”

“Great,” you muttered, blinking and raising your eyebrows. “Glad to know I’m safe, at least.”

“I mean,” Wanda chimed, staring off thoughtfully. “No matter what, it could never be as bad as the time that Bucky blew up—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Steve interjected, his embarrassment rising, punctuated with a spike of stress. The flavor of it left a sour taste in your mouth. “You guys are gonna scare her off, and that’s the exact last thing I need.” Offering you a tentative glance, Steve placed a hand on your shoulder to provide you with some sense of comfort. “I know it sounds bad, but you’re the first agent with a superpower to be assigned. And I promise I’m not gonna let Bucky throw you out of a window, if that helps at all.”

Confusion suddenly took over as the predominant emotion in the room, in addition to wonder and curiosity. You would need to tune out of your gift soon, if the emotions of the others kept swaying back and forth so drastically. That was something you had learned to do at a young age, and it was a skill necessary to maintaining your sanity. Your emotions were something you could easily get into check, but the heightened sympathy your power forced you to hold for others and their feelings possessed the ability to send you over a mental cliff, which was something you weren’t interested in in the slightest.

“Whoa, wait,” Bruce began, “you’re a super?” When you nodded, he looked around at the others in the room, pleasant surprise etched onto his features. “I mean, Bucky hasn’t had anyone with powers try to treat him since Wanda.”

“Because powers that can manipulate mental aspects are hard to come by,” Steve agreed. “Yeah, trust me, I know. That’s why I’m hoping Bucky won’t be so quick to turn y/n away, like he did with all the others.”

You shook your head, a humorless laugh escaping you. When Steve glanced at where you sat beside him, you said, “You remember what he said this morning, right? Said he didn’t care who I was or what my powers were, then called me a mood ring, and pretty much told me to go fuck myself after that. Guy definitely already wants me gone, Steve.”

“That’s kind of just how Bucky is with new people?” Sam tossed out.

“Correction,” Tony quipped, taking a swig from the glass of scotch he’d acquired while pouring your water. “That’s how he is with everybody.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he just… doesn’t like you,” Wanda chuckled. Maybe it was because Wanda was the closest to you in age, but you liked her. She seemed like someone you’d be able to hang out with, maybe watch stupid movies and stay up entirely too late with.

Tony waved his hand, flippantly dismissing the words. “Semantics, Maximoff. What I wanna know is what this kick ass power is. What do you have, y/n? Mind reading? Super guilt tripping? Or, wait, you said Barnes called you a mood ring? Holy shit, do you change color?”

You laughed, shaking your head in pure amusement. You got the feeling you would at least be able to enjoy your time in Avengers Tower, no matter how long or short a period that was fated to be. “No, I don’t, but I…” You were suddenly very conscious of the many eyes focused on you, and you involuntarily blushed. God, why were you embarrassed? You’d never spoken about your power out loud or so casually before, sure, but this was ridiculous. “I can read emotions, and I can also influence them. It works better if I’m able to touch the person who I’m working with, but it’s not actually necessary. Like, uh…” You allowed yourself to tune into the emotional climate of the room a bit more thoroughly, latching on to the first set that caught your attention.

Tony.

“What’s the project you’re working on right now, Tony?” you asked him, tilting your head to the side. “You’ve got a lot of excitement going on in your head, and it feels like it’s linked to creativity. You feel annoyed about it too, though, so I’m assuming it failed a test of some kind? But, then, it’s like… oh, okay I see. Your prototype failed, so you built a new one. That one failed too, but you’re pretty sure you have a workaround. Is that why you were all annoyed and uppity when you walked in here? Steve called the meeting and it interrupted you fixing the prototype of whatever you’re working on?”

Tony’s jaw dropped, genuinely caught off guard and impressed. “Did you just read my mind? You’re sure you aren’t actually a mind reader? Rogers, am I being punk’d?”

You’d spent the rest of the afternoon entertaining everyone, reading their emotions separately and announcing to the group what was on each individual’s mind. They all seemed to be getting a kick out of it, and for that you were grateful. Part of the reason you’d never been willing to share your power with anyone was because you’d been deathly afraid of judgement, of being called a freak of nature. That was less likely while working in a place like SHIELD, of course, but you found it difficult to let go of your worries.

If anything, you were just happy to know that you had friends in Avengers Tower, even if the one person who was your entire reason for being there seemed to want absolutely nothing to do with you.

Whatever. You would deal with it later.

—

It was about your third night in the tower that you’d begun taking part in some pretty risky business, and you were sure that your well being now depended on your ability to keep said risky business a secret.

Because if Bucky found out what you were getting up to, if he even suspected you in the slightest, you were pretty sure he would do a lot worse than throw you out of the 93rd story window.

It had started that morning, when you’d walked over to Bucky’s door and rapped a decisive knock againt the wood. You knew he was awake, because you had heard him come and go from his room several times while taking your morning shower, and you knew he was in his room now because you could sense his familiar emotions, only becoming more and more potent as he neared the door to open it. Annoyance, irritation, and the tiniest drop of fear which had been present the very first time you had met him. That was, perhaps, the part about Bucky which perplexed you the most. The man could probably bench twice your bodyweight without a second thought; what reason did her have to be frightened of you?

The door was wrenched open before you could ponder about it much further, revealing Bucky’s scowling face. He was clad in sweats and a plain black tee, but the simplicity of the clothing did nothing to disservice his physical attributes, but that wasn’t really surprising. Everyone in the tower seemed to be unfairly blessed in the looks department, though Bucky was especially. Everything about him was sharp angles and muscle, topped off with a voice that would probably make you weak in the knees if it weren’t constantly being used to insult your character.

“What are you staring at?” Bucky demanded, voice breaking you from your reverie. The metal of his left arm gleamed in the light of the hallway, whirring quietly as he shifted to lean his weight against it, and you blinked several times. You couldn’t even defend yourself against him because you had, in fact, been staring.

“Um, s-sorry,” you stuttered. Oh, damn it all. You’d been so confident when you’d strode over to his door, so sure of what you wanted to say. Why were your words failing you now? “Good morning, by the way.”

“Not anymore,” he muttered under his breath.

You let it go, not really having the wherewithal to be witty at the moment. “Listen, I was wondering if maybe we could try, like, an emotion reading today? It won’t take long, and I’m gonna have to start sending Fury updates any day now, so I just figured—”

“No,” Bucky told you plainly.

Not one to give up easily, you tried again. “Look, I know it’s sort of an uncomfortable situation for you, and believe me, I get it, but I really need to—”

He cut you off, and you wondered if Bucky ever let anyone finish a sentence before going completely postal on them, or if this behavior was specifically for you. “You don’t understand shit,” he barked at you, looking for all the world like there was no one he hated more. “You think just because you can tell if someone’s happy or sad that you somehow understand what I’ve been through? Uh uh. No dice, sweetheart. I already told you we weren’t playing this fucking game. Stay in this tower for as long as you like, but you’re wasting your time if you’re hoping to get anything out of me.”

Overwhelmed and unsure of what to do, you dropped your eyes to the floor and tried to ignore the embarrassment in your chest. That was something Bucky was good at, it seemed. Making you feel embarrassed. “I’m just… trying to help you,” you offered lamely. “I’m only here to help you.”

“And I didn’t ask for it,” Bucky shot back. “I don’t want it. So why don’t you do the both of us a favor and stop trying to make yourself useful, okay? Because it’s not working.”

The hostility rolling off of Bucky was so thick and potent that you could’ve choked on it. He meant what he was saying about not wanting help; he was being sincere. This assignment really was just the most impossible one, wasn’t it?

You shook your head, unsure of what to say. You glanced up at Bucky, decided that was a mistake, then began to turn your back to him, content to walk back to your room. “Guess I’ll just go fuck myself then,” you muttered sarcastically, still in shock at the sheer hostility rolling off the man behind you.

“Yeah, why don’t you?” he egged you on. “Least that way one of us gets to be a little less than miserable.” The slamming of his bedroom door let you know that he’d removed himself from the situation.

For Christ’s sake. How were you meant to help someone who clearly didn’t want your help and couldn’t manage to be civil to you for more than five seconds?

“Give it time,” Wanda had advised you later on in the day as the two of you ate lunch together. “Bucky will come around to you eventually. He wasn’t thrilled about me rooting around in his head at first either, for the few weeks that we tried to go that route.”

“Yeah, but you’re his friend,” you’d told her, shrugging a shoulder. “Even if he wasn’t happy about it, he didn’t hate your guts.”

“He doesn’t hate you, y/n,” she repeated. It was sweet of her to say, but she couldn’t feel what you did. She might have a guess at Bucky’s emotions, but you had a concrete handle on them, and they weren’t pleasant.

You’d gone about the rest of your day normally. Or, as normally as you could, having to adjust to living in the tower with a number of new roommates. They were all lovely people, save for one very stubborn super soldier with a disregard for your feelings, but you were beginning to feel disenchanted. Was the field agent position really worth all of this? Fury had basically said you would be staying in this tower as long as it took to correct Bucky’s emotional issues, and it was a testament to how awful you were doing that you weren’t even sure what exactly those issues were. Bucky had declared more than once that you really shouldn’t bother to hold your breath, because he wasn’t going to entertain you.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, it seemed.

You had retired to your room early that night, not very inclined to people please for the time being. Distantly you felt everyone’s individual emotions from the few floors separating you, but eventually you tuned them all out, ignoring reality in favor of reading a few chapters in the book you’d picked up last week. Only, a few chapters had quickly become many, minutes had turned to hours, and suddenly you had read the ending sentence of the last page and all you could see when you looked out the window of your bedroom was the inky blackness of the night sky.

“Hey Jarvis?” you called out, yawning and stretching your arms toward the ceiling. “What time is it?” Had to be late; you could feel the sleep dust forming in your eyes.

“Half past one, ma’am,” Jarvis answered immediately.

“Thanks,” you murmured. Okay, so a little later for you than usual, but it wasn’t like you had any plans tomorrow morning. You stood, stripping off the clothing you’d been wearing and switching them out for pajamas. You’d been just about ready to ask Jarvis to switch the lights off as you crawled into bed when something gave you pause.

Reading your book had been a good way to tune out everyone else in the tower and their emotions, but now that you were no longer distracted you were feeling… agony. Terror. Desperation. And just as you were about to write it off as you simply being tired, as your mind and ability playing tricks on you, you heard it. Plain as day, you heard it.

Someone was screaming.

Without thinking practically or having the sense to grab a weapon in the event that you would need to defend yourself, you raced to your bedroom door and threw it open, the strength of the complete and utter pain growing tenfold as you did so. Listening intently, you concentrated, trying to pinpoint the location of the screams and bristling as your body and mind recognized the direction in which both the noise and the pain extended from.

Bucky’s room. It was all coming from Bucky’s room.

You ran to his door, unsure of what exactly you should expect but completely unwilling to let Bucky fend off whatever was causing him this amount of harm by himself. The quality of emotions, the taste and tang staining your tongue, the essence of what Bucky was projecting? It felt like he was being murdered. It felt like he was dying. Bucky might not have been the nicest to you and you might have had only the most basic form of self defense training, but you’d be damned if you condemned him to suffer through whatever was trying to kill him alone. You could at least assess the situation and have Jarvis call for backup. Ruching to throw the door open without having time to work up the courage to do it, you burst into Bucky’s room with shaking hands and a heart full of anxiety, unsure of what to expect. Only… what you could see made no sense whatsoever.

Bucky was still screaming, still in enough agony to prompt your emotion sensors to believe that he was on the verge of death, but he wasn’t being attacked or physically harmed at all. He was laying in his bed shirtless, entangled in the comforter and thrashing wildly, the dim illumination from the window casting just enough light into the room to allow you to see the pure fright and pain contorting his face. Bucky wasn’t being attacked. Bucky wasn’t dying.

Bucky was dreaming.

Unsure of what to do and unable to help yourself, you walked forward until you stood just a step from the edge of his bed, the volume of his screams growing louder and the intensity of his pain becoming almost unbearable. He was moving, struggling, fighting whatever it was that terrified him so. This wasn’t… no, this wasn’t okay. In all your time as an emotional telepath, you hadn’t ever felt anything this specific or concentrated. It was like each of your nerves was being individually electrocuted at the highest wattage possible, your mouth running dry and your hands beginning to shake. Nobody should have had the capacity to feel this much grief and hurt. It was debilitating; it was life ending.

You weren’t able to stop yourself as you reached forward, pressing a palm to Bucky’s chest as gently as you could. His muscles had tensed at the contact, but you’d subconsciously been prepared for it. You weren’t sure what it was you were doing, but you were sure that he couldn’t be left to feel that way anymore. Not if he wanted to survive. The anger had to be pushed out, the hurt and the shock and the discomforting presence of cold, all of it needed to go. Bucky needed happiness, not pain. He needed compassion, not torture. He needed warmth, not iciness. He needed love, not terror.

And so, you gave him what he needed and took what he didn’t.

It took a few moments, but it had worked nonetheless. His thrashing had been first to cease, and his screaming followed quickly after. That heartbreakingly expressive face had smoothed into content, and the blue tone which had been corrupting all of Bucky’s unconscious emotions had faded out, a bright pinkish red now coloring them. He was still and calm now, and you weren’t sure where he was in his dream now, but you hoped with all your might that it was somewhere sunshine filled and comforting.

Cautiously removing your hand from Bucky and waiting a moment to make sure he wouldn’t need you to influence him again, you marveled at what you had just done. You didn’t believe in making people feel what you wanted them to against their will, not unless it was an emergency of some kind. You figured it had to be some form of immoral. But, what Bucky had just been feeling, the very miniscule amount of what you’d picked up from it? That seemed like a pretty intense emergency.

Fuck, did he always feel those things while he was sleeping?

Once it became clear that Bucky’s dreams would hold nothing but serenity for the rest of the night, you slowly turned, exited his room, and returned to yours, unable to shake the magnitude of what you had just been made to feel. You crawled into bed, asked Jarvis to turn the lights off for you, and laid there, hugging yourself as you continued to play over what you had just felt and done.

“Jarvis?” you whispered after a few moments of laying in the dark.

“Yes, Miss?”

You were beginning to hiccup, and you wondered if Jarvis understood what crying was and what it meant. “Will you… will you let me know if Bucky starts having a nightmare again, please?”

“Yes, Miss,” came his simple reply.

“Will you let me know every night, if he has a nightmare?” you clarified, eyes burning with the tears brimming in them. “You, um, you can’t let him know.”

A pause.

Then, “Yes, Miss.”

“Thanks,” you choked out.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you were sure you’d done it sobbing.

—

Part 3

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