"No!" Bucky panicked.
The children all screamed in terror. Some of them cried for their parents but there was no hope of rescue. The hut was secluded and Bucky was known to fire blanks on his property as a part of his training. No one would come.
"No! No, listen to me! I'm the one you want, ok? They're just kids! They never did anything to nobody—"
Number 2 cut him off abruptly by full-on kneeing him in the groin from behind. Bucky legs buckled. "Ah!!! —Fuck!!!" His vision swam around the edges.
The pain was excruciating. In other circumstances, he might have passed out right on the table, and gladly, if he wasn't so determined to save the children from watching him get raped in technicolor. He simply couldn't take that.
"I said shut the fuck up!" his assailant hissed. "Otherwise I'm gonna do one of the little ones instead if that's what you want."
"No..." Bucky groaned miserably. "No. Don't touch them! Don't you—"
"Convince me." A dry finger circled Bucky's hole and then stopped, waiting.
This was hell.
There was no other way. Bucky swallowed hard. "I'm begging you, man... Whatever you wanna do, you do it to me. Not them. I— Jesus... I can make it good for you, ok?"
Bucky knew he was grasping for straws now but with his dignity thrown out of the window, he thought anything was worth a try if it spared the children somehow. He purposely stopped struggling against the hold on his hair and let his body go limp, resting his entire weight on the table.
"I promise. You know me. You know I'm good for it. No one needs to touch the kids. I'm right here."
Bucky relaxed against the prodding finger, to show them that he would make good on his promise, that he meant it. Instead of ripping the guy apart, as he probably would have done if the children had been safe, he just lay there and let himself be inspected, skin pulled this and that way by the man behind him with a burning face.
Number 2 slapped his ass cheek like Bucky was a price horse, making him jump, and exposed his hole some more. Then, he aimed and spit on him, only barely missing his mark. The cooling wetness landed on Bucky's thigh instead, trickling down on the inside of it like semen.
Bucky was mortified. It didn't matter.
"That's good. Real soulful."
"I mean it..." Bucky said, hating himself for it. "If that's what you came here for, just do it. You can have your revenge. I'm game. I'm not gonna stop you."
"That's better. Go on." They laughted again.
"I— You wanna do some fucked up shit, yeah? I'll do whatever. I'll do anything. You can all have a go, but you let the children wait outside and then you leave us the hell alone."
"Huh," Ward sighed, "I don't think so. The children are leverage and you know that. So no. But if you're well behaved, maybe we'll let them go after. In one piece even if you make it worth our while." He snapped his fingers at the guy behind him. "No time like the present. Get to it."
Number 2 unbuckled his belt and Bucky closed his burning eyes again, wishing he was anywhere else but here. For now, he couldn't even leave his body to cope like he used to. He had to moderate himself, control the sounds he made, so one day, when the children had grown up, they wouldn't be as messed up about the whole thing as he was. This was something he could do for them. They would all remember it for the rest of their lives.
He didn't think about Steve and what he would say about putting his own needs first. If he did he'd only want to die again, and he didn't want to imagine what these animals could do to the children if he wasn't there to take the brunt of it.
"You want it wet or dry?" Ward asked conversationally.
Bucky buried his face in the table, colored in shame, hoping that he wouldn't have to look at anyone while they did it. The less he screamed the better.
"...Wet."
Number 2 spat in his palm. A horrible squelching sound. Bucky counted his own breaths.
When the man unceremoniously positioned himself at Bucky's entrance and shoved into him in one long thrusting motion, Bucky bit on his bottom lip hard enough to bleed, barely suppressing a pained shout.
It was like getting fucked with a red-hot iron.
Of course they hadn't bothered with actual lube - or a condom. Why would they? This was supposed to be revenge and Bucky felt like his insides were scraped raw with every punishing thrust. The guy was huge and didn't hold back at all. It was pure agony. A white-hot pain.
Number 2 groaned like a stuck pig every time he pushed out slowly, probably taking skin with him as he went, judging by the ripping feeling the movement left inside. He pulled almost all the way out only to slam back in with a low moan.
"Oh yeah."
Bucky could feel the insides of his thighs getting slick with blood and refused to let himself cry about it. All he gave them was a high whimper.
"You're hurting him!" N'boku said.
"You can't do that!" One of the other children, probably his twin brother, Bucky couldn't tell their voices apart anymore, joined in.
"Thula..." Bucky tried again. "...Please."
They didn't listen. "Don't hurt him! You're bad! Bad!"
Ward was beside Bucky suddenly, staring down at his tortured expression and the fresh tear tracks on his face with unmasked glee. His hateful eyes widened every time Bucky's body was shoved forward by a particularly brutal thrust that made him want to scream. He clearly enjoyed the view.
"Shut them up or I will. Last warning."
Bucky gathered what strength he had left, doing his best to ignore the pain and the humiliation, and raised his voice.
"Hey, little ones? Remember that game we played... When they did the ceremony... The one with the... Where they brought the... the baby animals to show the king? Do you remember?"
The children nodded. Their little faces were wet with tears.
"They were scared, right? Because of the—"
Number 2 gave him the hardest thrust yet, forcing himself as far inside as he could with singular focus, and came.
Bucky had to turn away and bite his tongue to suppress a miserable cry to something more like a cough. His chest was heaving. He felt sick.
The rapist laughed like he had accomplished something and did it again, thrusting, steadily easing the way with his own semen this time.
"—the noise," Bucky continued, several deep breaths later, his voice high and horse from the unbearable sensation. "They were scared of it. Just like you are now. So... lets play the game. Let's try and be... be real quiet, ok? Just like we did last time."
The children didn't respond to Bucky's words like he'd expected. Maybe they hadn't understood. Maybe they'd simply forgotten about the game and the baby animals in sight of this horror show. Some were staring at the floor, others still watched the guardsmen with fearful but determined eyes.
I'm not worth your lives, Bucky thought.
"Kids?" he addressed them again, trying to get their attention. He couldn't help but notice that his voice had a slightly hysterical edge to it. "Thula... The game? Please?"
"OK, Bucky," T'Waki, the youngest of them said in a small voice.
"Great... That's— great," Bucky managed. "Good job, T'Waki. We're all playing. Last one to make— to make noise... wins. Starting now."
Number 2 slapped him on the ass before he pulled out, hopefully putting his bloody dick back in his pants where the children couldn't see the mess. Bucky flinched but stayed right where he was, because he had to, despite wanting nothing more than to run away and hide, or curl up and die. It wasn't over yet. It couldn't be. Hydra wasn't merciful.
Ward squatted down besides the table by Bucky's head, until they came face to face. Then he whispered to him under his breath, inaudible to the children, like it was also part of the game. "Choose one."
"What?" Bucky panted miserably, trying to keep his voice down.
Ward pointed towards the little group. "I'll let you choose one of them to take your place if you want."
"No. I can't—"
"If you choose one we'll let you go," Ward said. "Otherwise we'll go again, and again, and again. Order through pain and all that, do you remember?" He grinned, ugly and twisted like evil personified.
"No. Never. I'm not chosing. I won't let you. Take me, ok? Just me..." Bucky pleaded.
Ward smiled coldly and wiped away a silent tear on Bucky's cheek that had escaped without his permission, ignoring Bucky's startled attempt to get away from his hand. He tasted the salt on his finger like a treat and turned away.
"You're gonna regret this."
When Number 3 came up behind him, stuffing a small piece of Bucky's ripped Shuka in his mouth like a mercy, Bucky asked himself why he had survived the fall in the Alps at all. What for? He longed for the cold, the calm and quiet of it all that would stop the constant screaming in his head and the agony in his body. He just couldn't catch a break.