ZemoClone in the Alps
Part 1
Zemo woke up slowly, lazily. He was warm and peaceful. He was at that point where his eyes were still closed and he felt boneless, adrift. As his senses came back on line, he felt the soft ache in his muscles, smelled her perfume on the pillow.
That’s right. Of course. He was in the hotel penthouse in the Swiss Alps. With his beloved Constance.
He rolled over, opening his eyes, reaching out a hand - but the other side of the bed was empty.
He could hear her moving about outside the bedroom, smell cooking, smell coffee.
He flopped his head back on the pillows, stretched out a bit. His muscles needed it.
God, that woman could fuck. She was insatiable. Even on his honeymoon, he hadn’t had sex this often: every day, multiple times, in multiple - and quite inventive - positions.
Not that he was complaining. Far from it. He felt incredibly lucky to have her in his life. She was his match in every possible way. Sexy and intelligent. Strong and supple. During their sparring matches, he didn’t have to pull his punches. She gave as good as she got.
And she could drink him under the table.
He’d met that kind of personality before, back in his army days. Whip-smart people who just liked to drink and fuck. Usually, they were under some kind of heavy duress. And that correlated with his Constance. She was under enormous stress being a Hydra double agent. But you would never know to look at her. She kept it all controlled. Only he got to see this other side of her. Only he got to see her vulnerabilities. He was the only one she let in. He was constantly amazed by her.
Yet, he couldn’t remember exactly how they met. It was on the tip of his tongue…
No matter. It would come to him eventually.
The bedroom door opened and she walked in holding a huge breakfast tray. The dishes were covered. She knew he sometimes didn’t like to eat straight away.
She was a vision in a burnt orange lacey camisole set, barefoot, her hair piled up in a loose bun, a few wayward tendrils falling to frame her face. No makeup, no jewellery. She was breathtaking.
He propped himself up on one elbow as she manoeuvred the tray onto the little side table.
“Good morning, my darling,” he whispered in his husky accented voice, reaching out his hand for her.
“Good morning, baby,” she purred back, stepping away from the table and unclipping her hair, so that it fell about her shoulders in soft waves.
She slipped into bed beside him, and he wrapped his arms around her, inhaling her scent.
“Are you hungry, pookie?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes.
“Not yet, my dove,” he said.
She nestled against him, idly running her fingertips through his chest hair.
“Pumpkin,” he asked, “I have a strange question?”
“Mmmmm?”
“How exactly did we meet?”
She looked up at him for a long moment, considering. Her eyes were so green. He could see layers within the irises. He could lose himself in their depths.
She raised her hand to place it gently on his head, just behind his ear.
“Is that concussion still affecting you, dear heart?”
What concussion? “I d… don’t think so.”
“We met on assignment, remember? You had developed that extraordinary cloning lab and I was stealing the plans for Hydra.”
“Ah. Of course.”
“What were you cloning again?”
“I remember that I had the bizarre notion to clone Sgt Barnes,” he mused. “With a cat.”
“A cat?”
“A panther, to be precise.”
“And what came of that?”
“Nothing, I think. I don’t think anything ever came of it.”
“You are funny,” she said, smiling up at him. “That would be a delicious revenge. A super soldier cat.”
“Indeed.” He hugged her to him, thinking. What had happened to his plans to splice James with that pedigree panther? What a ridiculous idea. A moment of madness. What had he been thinking?
“Still, the lab would have been a marvellously useful technology for Hydra to absorb,” she continued.
”Quite. Were you aware of their plans for it?”
“Well, since the serum is no longer available, Hydra liked the idea of manipulating soldier DNA. Imagine splicing humans with… oh, I don’t know… wolves or lions… to make super strong hybrid soldiers without the need for serum? I mean, it’s a game changer.”
“And I was the cause of that?” he mused, sadly.
“Ah, but no, my love. Don’t fret. Remember. I have destroyed the lab, all the equipment, all the plans. I have killed all the technicians, all the people involved. In fact, the only person left who has any technical knowledge about the lab, is you, kitten.”
“That’s good, then,” he smiled, “because I have absolutely no technical knowledge about it at all. I left all that to Philby and the scientists.” He paused. “Oh. Scheiße. Does that mean Philby is dead?”
“I’m afraid so, my dearest.” She stroked her nails down his chest. “No more cloning.” And no need to go after the real Baron Zemo, if he has no technical knowledge. That made things easier. She’d erase her Zemo’s memories of that time, and this conversation, later tonight.
Zemo sighed. “That is probably for the best. They do say just because you can do something, doesn’t mean that you should.” He smiled down at her.
She moved her hand beneath the blankets, towards his groin.
“Let’s change the subject, amoré. Do you want to eat first, or fuck?”
“I am yours to command,” he said, eyes flashing.
“I know,” she said, leaning to kiss him on the nose. “Answer the question.”
He raised his hand to cup her cheek, smirked that devilish smirk of his and said, “Oh. Fuck, I think. Decidedly, fuck.” And he moved to kiss her.
*
Part 2
Bucky woke up slowly, lazily. He was warm and peaceful. He was at that point where his eyes were still closed and he felt boneless, adrift. As his senses came back on line, he felt the soft ache in his muscles, smelled her perfume on the pillow.
That’s right. Of course. He was in their holiday villa on the Amalfi Coast. With his beloved Lucrezia, Marquise of Trieste.
He rolled over, opening his eyes, reaching out a hand - but the other side of the bed was empty.
He could hear her moving about outside, talking on the phone. His enhanced hearing made out her conversation with Florian. Something about … … He didn’t need the details. He zoned out.
He flopped his head back on the pillows, stretched out a bit, put his hands up behind his head, grinning.
God, that woman could fuck. She was insatiable. He was glad of his super soldier stamina. Even as a Hydra operative, he hadn’t had sex this often: every day, multiple times, in multiple - and quite inventive - positions.
Not that he was complaining. Far from it. He was besotted. She was incredible. Sexy and intelligent. Strong and supple.
And generous to a fault. Because of her he no longer had a prosthetic arm.
Lucrezia had, somehow, liaised with Florian to regrow his own arm, and now he felt complete. His super soldier strength was still up to par, of course, but since Riga, he had always been a bit mindful of the fact that the Dora Milaje could just stick some fingers in his shoulder and the whole arm would fall off. Well, not now, bitches!!
No, that was unfair. He greatly respected the Dora Milaje. He’d found peace and healing in Wakanda. He’d be forever grateful.
The bedroom door opened and she walked in: a vision in a bright yellow sundress, barefoot, hair piled high, trailing curling tendrils he wanted to wrap around his fingers.
She lay her long body on the bed, face close to his, legs bent, ankles crossed. He loved how her toes curled.
“My darling. My immortal beloved. I hope I didn’t wake you.” She smiled up at him softly. Her eyes were the most amazing viridian green. Almost hypnotic.
He smiled back and shook his head, content just to gaze at her.
She leaned forward to kiss him on his stubbled cheek.
“We’ll be breakfasting on the yacht shortly. And I’ll be hosting a party there tonight.” She shrugged. “Oh, just a few close friends. I want to show you off.”
He lifted his hand to wrap a strand of her hair around his fingers, switching effortlessly into Italian. “Ti amo. Mi sono perso nei tuoi occhi. Farei qualsiasi cosa per te. Ti amo da morire.”
I love you. I’m lost in your eyes. I would do anything for you. I love you to death.
She patted his hand, affectionately. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, amore.”
He blushed fetchingly.
She moved off the bed, her hair unwrapping from his finger, and he felt a momentary loss.
“I’ve asked the tailor to come up in half an hour,” she said, looking in the mirror, fixing her hair. “I want to put you in dark blue this evening. My jeweller will be with him. She’s very pretty and I want you to flirt with her outrageously.” She looked at him through the mirror. He was doting. She smiled.
He nodded and began to get out of bed. Lucrezia was applying lipstick, but paused when Bucky stood. He was naked and semi-hard. She turned to him and looked him up and down, then gestured for him to get back in bed.
“Let’s make that an hour,” she purred. She walked to the intercom and told her PA in rapid Italian to reschedule the tailor and jeweller. As she spoke, she unhooked her dress at the shoulder and let it fall to the floor.
*
Part 3
At the Lodge
Muzzy was up in Bucky’s room, face down between Bucky’s legs, lapping at his genitals.
He had decided that this afternoon was the time for him to try out his new throat purr.
“Ohhhh… Holy Cow… Aaaaaaah… Fuuuu-uuuck!”
They heard the screams downstairs.
Zemo had never heard Bucky squeal like that before. He felt concern and scrambled to his feet. He turned to go to him, but Jamie stopped him, grinning, eyes shining.
“No, Mo.” He giggled. “Muzz is doing the thing.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
He cocked his head, ears flicking.
“S’OK. I hear them. Bucky is sleepy now.”
“The thing,” smirked Zemo, sitting back on the couch, splayed legs, arms by his sides. “Remind me.”
Jamie laughed, showing his sharp, white canines. He stalked over to Zemo and flicked out his talons.
***