He would have smiled over the question, if he had been physically able to. He remembered that look in Bucky's eyes the first time he'd growled those words at him. He'd been wild and hostile and unbelievably attractive. Zemo hadn't been afraid. He'd been fascinated, captivated by that burst of anger.
But Bucky wasn't angry now. Fired up, maybe, but not angry. Zemo let out another moan, suggesting yes, he very much wanted to see what Bucky could do with his leverage. And Zemo would not be disappointed. He let out another noise of approval as Bucky pushed himself deeper, urging him to do it again, and again. Zemo even reached out, holding on to the footboard to the bed in order to brace himself. He tried to keep up, sucking and groaning, wanting Bucky to use him as he pleased. And whenever those watering eyes opened to look up at Bucky, it wasn't to get him to stop. Very much the opposite, a silent choke me gleaming in his pupils.
His own cock ached for attention, but Zemo would ignore his own needs for now, far more interested in getting Bucky to come. He didn't care if Bucky left his throat bruised and sore, didn't care if he couldn't breathe. He wanted this just as badly as Bucky did, and Zemo refused to stop until his dear soldat released inside him. Or on him. Anywhere. A strangled, muffled sort of sound rose from him, communicating an eager, Yes, James, yes.