Chapter Text
After what happened with Valentina and the declaration of the New Avengers, Yelena, Alexei, Ava, Bucky, and John were in charge of the new missions that endangered the city and the world. The missions were risky, and Bob stayed at the tower because he couldn't be Sentry without letting the Void emerge from his being, which would make him a danger. That's why while the others were out, Bob was in charge of cleaning the tower, even washing dishes, making beds, and doing his teammates' laundry. The rest weren't happy about this; Bucky preferred to do his laundry separately because he ironed it himself, and Yelena and Ava also didn't like Bob doing something they felt was their own responsibility. However, he convinced them that it was the least he could do after they were out on missions.
Yelena handed him her clothes on Tuesday—it was just t-shirts, sportswear, and socks, as the blonde refused to let the brunette wash her underwear. Ava did the same, only giving Bob what was necessary on Wednesday. Alexei gave him his bag, including enormous clothes because the man was large, and Walker gave him his bag right after training at the gym. Everyone except Bob left for a mission in another city. The young man took the women's clothes and put them in separate wash loads. Alexsei's clothes were sweaty, so they went in next. John Walker's clothes were in a small gym bag. Bob took them out and searched: sports shirts, pants, jerseys, and suddenly he saw a plastic bag containing the dirty underwear. Bob untied the knot, and a strong scent filled his senses: dirty, stiff socks, dark on the soles, and some boxers, one white one that was slightly yellowish, catching his attention. The smell was strong. Bob should have felt nauseated, but he didn't. In fact, he had a secret fetish for the scent, but only from men he found attractive—and yes, John Walker was everything Bob wanted in a man: tall, handsome, strong, that masculine beard, and that confident attitude.
"Shit... this is not right," he told himself. He looked around as if he felt watched and suddenly brought the garment to his face. He took the first inhale, and a musky, potent, testosterone-filled stench flooded Bob's nostrils. It pulled a sharp moan from him. His face was red with shame, and he pressed the stinky garment to his face again, inhaling several times. His pants tightened, and arousal completely dominated him. His body trembled, and he pulled down his pants, letting his penis out. He began to masturbate while smelling the boxers.
"Mmmmhh John, yes..." he groaned loudly.
The idea of John dominating him was his dirty fantasy, and he'd had it since John pushed him against the wall in the warehouse where Valentina held them. Bob looked innocent, but he was completely perverted. He had fetishes no one imagined, but he was clearly going to keep them to himself. Bob sat on the laundry room floor with the boxers still on his face. He continued his masturbation, his breath ragged in the room. The strong aroma made him come in record time; he'd never had an orgasm so fast before. He felt a kind of regret because it wasn't right, but his hunger for the blonde super-soldier was too strong. Bob continued washing the clothes, still in the clouds with his fantasy. Although he would never admit his taste for the soldier out loud, he knew John was heterosexual and didn't want to add another impossible love to his already fragile self-esteem, much less with such dirty fetishes.
After his impulsive reaction in the laundry room, looking John in the eye was torture. The man was too imposing, although they had grown quite close; the blonde wasn't like he was at first, but he still maintained that enviable confidence despite everything. Bob had learned to observe John Walker, his features, physique, and routines. He trained harder than anyone, spending hours in the gym always looking better. In fact, his small belly had disappeared. He seemed to be handling the divorce better as his relationship with Olivia wasn't bad anymore; she allowed him to spend time with the child. In fact, everyone in the tower, including Bob, now knew the little Walker. The missions didn't stop, and as was customary, Bob took charge of washing the majority of the group's clothes. However, the brunette used the solitude to steal a dirty pair of the blonde's boxers and touch himself while smelling them. This became a habit; he did it every chance he got. It was his new addiction. He didn't care how stinky they were; he'd smell them and even lick them, tasting John's juices impregnated in the fabric.
Bob knew what he was doing wasn't right, but what the hell. He didn't have drugs anymore, and he spent all day in that tower for fear of harming someone with his powers. Didn't he have the right to a guilty pleasure? Maybe it was the only fun thing in that place, locked up, he wouldn't meet anyone. Yelena had been nervous all morning for a mission in the city center. Everyone got ready and went. Apparently, it would take them all day. Walker entrusted a small load of laundry to Bob—it was just sportswear and some boxers. The brunette was distracted almost all day reading an interesting science fiction book, prepared something to eat, and stayed in a relaxed mood, when he suddenly remembered the blonde had given him a load of clothes to wash. He opened the bag with the name John F Walker embroidered on it and separated the clothes. He looked for the dirtiest, most aromatic boxers. This one was intense; it even had something stuck to the front that Bob assumed was urine with some sweat and pre-ejaculate. He lay down on the living room sofa and intensely sniffed it. He didn't want to touch himself yet; he wanted to enjoy the intense aroma more since he tended to orgasm too fast with John's stench. He looked at the time and noticed the guys probably wouldn't return to sleep. Maybe the mission would take longer, and that, plus interviews, usually took them a day or two.
The mission had been short—a bank robbery with hostages. Valentina wanted interviews, so Walker gave the first one because Olivia had told him their son wanted to see him, and the blonde was dying to spend time with the little one. He remembered all his clothes were at home, so he'd go get some of them and organize the missions with the group before his trip. He drove to the tower; luckily there was little traffic, so it didn't take him long to arrive. Bob would probably be reading or something. John arrived early because he had things to do; he had to go see his son in Georgia for a couple of days. It seemed Bob wasn't around. He walked through the corridors stealthily like any soldier, and when he got to the living room, he saw him. He never thought he'd see anything like this. John had seen strange things, but never on this level. Bob was lying on the sofa, his bag on the floor—the same one he'd given the brunette earlier—and his dirty underwear on his face. Yes, those were his boxers Bob was intensely smelling. The right words came out of his lips.
"What the hell are you doing with my clothes?" John asked with a mixture of disgust and surprise.
Bob froze like ice. His face turned red, and he jumped off the sofa. He lowered his face as a sign of fear, the same fear he had when his father beat him.
"Joh... John, please forgive me, I didn't mean to. I beg you to forgive me," he pleaded, scared, kneeling on the floor. The blonde noticed how submissive Bob could be.
"I didn't know you were a goddamn pervert, but what you're doing is unacceptable, and you need to be punished for it," he said with a virile, demanding voice.
Bob kept his head bowed, knowing a beating was coming. He deserved it for being a pervert; John was right. Suddenly, he felt a strong grip on his hair. The blonde made him look him in the face. John's eyes were different; they had fire in them, radiating lust. Then the brunette saw the enormous bulge in John's super-soldier suit. The blonde then spat in his face. John's warm, moist saliva on his face made him snap out of the trance and realize what was happening.
"Open your mouth, you disgusting slut," John demanded with a voice that sent a shiver down Bob's entire body. He obeyed the order, timidly opening his mouth and showing his pink tongue.
"Good boy," the soldier told him before spitting at him again, this time directly into his mouth. Bob savored John's saliva, enjoying it like a cheap whore. His own pants were tight, and his underwear was damp with excitement. A slap went to Bob's face. It hurt, but he liked it.
"I... I'm sorry," he managed to say before receiving a much stronger pull on his hair than before. The blonde leaned in to get closer to his face, his eyes full of anger and lust.
"You say, 'Excuse me, Sir' or 'Master,' understood?" he warned, maintaining the strong grip on his hair while Bob now clearly understood the game.
"I'm sorry, Master. Forgive me for stealing your underwear and smelling it, but I couldn't help it," the brunette confessed with fear in his voice.
"You're a needy bitch, aren't you? Well, I'm sorry to tell you that you'll receive your punishment. Now, take off my boots," he ordered while sitting on that sofa across from the younger man who was sitting on the floor with adrenaline pumping from all this. He brought his clumsy, trembling hands to the military leather boots the blonde was wearing. He took off the right one first, a strong stench reaching his nose. He did the same with the other. John's feet were in dirty white socks.
"Ready, Mr. Walker," he said, still looking at him with fear because John had a very strong dominant aura. Then the blonde brought his right foot to his face, pushing and rubbing it on his face. The stench was potent; it smelled of sweat and a kind of cheese. Far from disgusting Bob, it only made his cock harder in his pants. He groaned, smelling the foot. His unsure hands went to Walker's leg to grab it, but the blonde slapped his hands.
"You're forbidden to touch me, faggot. Remember you have to receive your punishment," the taller man warned, seated on the sofa.
John looked really attractive. He still had his beret on. His new suit looked really good on him; it highlighted his muscular body, his military appearance, and his dominant look. The brunette continued smelling the blonde's foot, inhaling the aroma. John put both feet on Bob's face, rubbing his feet on him.
"Mmhhh... Mmmhhh," he groaned desperately, highly aroused by the degrading treatment he was receiving. It was humiliating, but he was enjoying it like never before.
"Take off my socks," he demanded without more. Bob obeyed, removing one and then the other. John's right foot went to his face. The aroma was more intense, although the foot was wetter. This time John allowed him to touch it. The brunette massaged it slowly while smelling it. The blonde rubbed it forcefully on his face, impregnating him with that intense aroma.
"Clean it, I want it shining," the taller man ordered, waiting for Bob to follow the commands. Bob timidly stuck out his tongue, licking the sole of the foot. A salty taste filled his mouth. He moved his tongue up and down, moving slowly. John pushed his toes against his mouth. The brunette sucked the toes hungrily. The blonde smiled, feeling the moisture of Bob's tongue, who was on his knees enjoying being dominated by him. John began to fuck Bob's mouth with his foot. The brunette let out a choked moan, his mouth full of that delicious manly foot, the foot of a real man.
"I want it clean. Lick the whole foot, slut," he ordered with a strong voice. Bob licked between the toes, on the sole, and went over every part of the blonde's enormous foot until he left it covered. He took the other foot, massaging it. John's feet were huge, worthy of a man like him. The soldier swapped the right foot for the left, pushing it onto Bob's face. The brunette was less shy this time and sucked the foot desperately and hungrily. This time he made eye contact with the blonde, who was looking at him with a face full of perversion.
"Well done, slut," he commented, smiling, then grabbing Bob by his hair and pulling him toward his legs. The brunette couldn't stop looking at John's enormous bulge in the suit. He felt his mouth water anxiously, willing to give anything to suck that huge cock.
"Master, please..." he said in a weak, needy voice.
"What do you want, bitch? Ah, I see..."
John could see Bob's dark blue eyes fixed on the enormous bulge in his pants. The blonde gave a mocking, perverted smile. He pushed Bob forcefully into his crotch. Bob felt the hardness on his face. The aroma was even felt through the fabric. The brunette felt John's cock moving, contracting against his face. He let out a sharp, almost feminine moan. He squirmed with the soldier's strong grip. Bob timidly stuck out his tongue, wanting to lick the bulge. The brunette's hands grabbed the blonde's strong legs. The soldier pushed Bob back. The brunette made a sad face and sat back on his own feet.
"What a needy slut you are, Bobby," John mentioned, taking his belt and lowering the special zipper. He put his hand in his underwear and pulled out his enormous cock. Bob's eyes widened when he saw it. He never thought he'd have the chance to even see it. It was huge. He didn't remember ever seeing such a large cock. Although Bob had some experience experimenting and even sucking cock for drugs, John's cock was imposing, thick, and long. He calculated it was at least over 20 centimeters, the same color as John's skin, a shiny pink glans. John began to masturbate slowly in front of Bob. The foreskin moved up and down, listening to the sound of the friction. Bob wanted—no, he needed to put it in his mouth, to show him he could suck it better than his ex-wife, better than any whore he could ever fuck.
"Please... I need it," he said in a pleading tone, hoping John would have mercy on him and let him suck it. He desperately needed it.
"Ha... you're dying to eat it, aren't you, slut? It's big, a real man's cock, but you won't be able to. First, you'll have to earn it and work for that prize, and today you were a bad bitch for stealing my underwear without permission, so you'll only be able to look at it," he sentenced, his virile voice harsh. John continued to masturbate in front of the younger man. The brunette was suffering the worst of tortures: having that enormous cock in front of him and not being able to touch it, not even being able to smell it.
"No... I promise I'll do whatever you want, that I'll make your bed, that I'll make you breakfast, but please let me suck it," Bob was too needy and yearned for it like never before. However, John didn't allow it and enjoyed seeing him so pathetically needy as he was now.
John collected the pre-ejaculate on his fingers. It looked sticky and shiny. The blonde put his fingers in Bob's mouth. When Bob tasted it, he became desperate, almost tearing his fingers off with the suction. The soldier felt the delicious and hungry suction, causing a spasm in his own cock. Without a doubt, Bob would suck it like no one else, but he wanted to control him, to dominate him and have him in his hand, so he would go slow with him. John took one of his dirty socks and shoved it into Bob's mouth.
"Leave it in there, so your slutty moans won't be heard so loudly," he said simply, continuing his self-massage on his own cock. Bob was kneeling, his eyes completely fixed on the blonde's huge cock, which he was now masturbating more forcefully. The brunette was submissive, right where John had left him, with the taste of the fabric inside his mouth, almost choked by it. His own cock was hard in his pants, secreting pre-ejaculate. He was immersed in a goddamn torture.
"You're dying to have your lips around this alpha male cock, aren't you, faggot? You're so pathetic, look at you, being a goddamn queer, a desperate slut begging to eat a superior male's cock."
"Mmmmnnhh... agggghmmm..." Bob only emitted choked moans. The insults only made the situation hotter, dirtier, and more exciting.
They were in the middle of the living room where everyone sat to eat or chat, where if the others arrived, they would see him as a needy slut, a pathetic being who needed to be dominated, used, and humiliated. He focused his eyes on John's hand movement, the foreskin moving up and down, the glans releasing a thread of pre-ejaculate falling onto the sofa.
"Shit... I'm close. You're a... dirty slut ahh..."
John's moans and breathing became heavy. The movement in his hand became faster. Bob could see how John's enormous cock was getting rigid, throbbing with every movement. John stood up and grabbed Bob by the hair and masturbated in front of his face. The brunette felt like he would faint from excitement, and then the blonde let out a final grunt that stopped for a breath and came, splattering Bob's face, hair, and chin. The streams of semen dirtying his face made the brunette reach his climax, and he came in his pants, trembling like jelly. John maintained the grip on his hair while with the other hand, he continued grabbing his cock, releasing the last remnants of his load over Bob's face. He let go of the grip and then smiled, giving him a few small slaps, followed by saying in a deep voice, "Good slut, but you must be thirsty."
No one prepared him for it. John, taking his hair again and guiding his cock, waited a few seconds before a stream of warm urine covered Bob's head, face, and chest, still with his clothes on. The urine fell, cleaning the semen. Bob felt the sock in his mouth moisten with the salty taste of the super-soldier's urine. The yellow liquid ran down his face until it stopped. The floor was full of urine. Bob's pants were also wet with urine. The brunette was trembling due to his orgasm and everything that had happened.
"Good boy. Clean up this mess. That's all for today. Get ready for the next session," John warned, putting his cock away in his pants, then turning around and leaving, leaving a trembling Bob on the floor, full of perversion. The brunette now had a new mission: to be John's slut and please him like no one ever would.