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In Any Language

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It wasn't often Bucky and Steve got this, an entire evening that was all theirs. No mission, no appearances, nothing and no one taking an hour or two of their time. When they could shut out the world and escape into each other, fall onto their bed and stay until the next morning. When obligations and duty and a million other demands took them away from each other, even if only for the day, weren't there as a distraction.

Bucky cherished these nights for the rare and precious gifts that they were, the times when he could block everything that wasn't Steve's body pressing him into the mattress, Steve's lips warm and firm against his, the clean sunshine smell of him when Bucky buried his face in the crook of Steve's neck on the next push, Steve's cock thick and hard inside him, driving out everything that wasn't more and please and Steve.

The sheets were damp underneath him, the small lamp on the bedside table providing the only light, but Bucky could see everything he needed to. Could feel Steve over him, in him, scraped nails down a slick back to grab Steve's hips. Deeper. He needed deeper, needed more.

Every stroke was steady, sure, just this side of what Bucky desperately needed, and if he could just get Steve to ramp up the action, he could –

"Verdammt, Steve, ich brauch - ich... komm schon..." Words spilled out of Bucky's mouth as he tugged at Steve's hips, urged him to move faster.

"What's that?" Steve (the gorgeous fucking bastard) slowed down, thumbed droplets of moisture from Bucky's forehead. "I'm sorry, I don't..."

Bucky blinked, dazed and so close, he was right there, if Steve could just...

Then what he'd said filtered into through the miasma of want, and he froze in place. He'd done it again. Lapsed, when he'd sworn to himself he'd never do it. It was bad enough he could still remember every language that had been poured into his head for various assassinations (and that's exactly what they'd been), but to taint this, what he had with Steve, the one decent and pure thing he had, with that brush?

He couldn't. He wouldn't. The Winter Soldier could have everything else, could infiltrate every other part of his life and psyche and burrow his way down so deep there'd be no escape (not that Bucky ever thought he could), but not this. Not Steve. Steve was Bucky's and no one else's.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Steve stilled completely and ducked his head, brushed a kiss across Bucky's lips. "I don't mind, it's's hard for me to know what you want if I don't –"

He couldn't listen to Steve fumble out a misguided attempt of an apology, when it should be Bucky begging forgiveness. "It won't happen again." He'd do a better job this time. He owed it to both of them.

"That's not what – dammit, just let me –" Steve slid out of Bucky entirely, but before Bucky could even mourn the loss or protest that he was fine, everything was fine, Steve had rolled to Bucky's side and put a hand on his chest, effectively pinning him in place with nothing more than a touch.

Bucky shoved at Steve with his metal arm. He'd killed far better people for far less provocation than this. "I can't believe you just stopped."

Steve didn't so much as flinch. He met Bucky's glare with one of his own, eyes flashing with disappointment and annoyance. "I can't believe you think there's anything you could ever say to me in any language that you'd need to be ashamed of. I don't mind, alright."

"I'm not –" He blew out an impatient breath. A rare night to themselves and the dumb jerk wanted to spend it arguing stupid shit, instead of going for a world's record in epic sex. But then, Steve was rather like a dog with a bone when it came to making a point. "I wasn't ashamed of what I was saying."

He reached for Steve, hoping he'd catch the hint, but no. Steve still didn't budge. "Then what is it? This isn't gonna work if you don't talk to me."

"Well, maybe I don't want it to work, okay," he bit out, peevish and horny and feeling the dull edges of a headache starting to blossom behind his eyes. He hated it when Steve got like this, hyper-determined and bullheaded about not taking no for an answer. Especially when it was focused his way.

"Yeah, no dice. Try again."

Yeah, he should have known that wouldn't fly, either. Steve knew better and always had. "I'm not ashamed of what I was saying," he repeated, then shifted, hoping Steve would take pity on him. He was still hard and Steve was definitely still raring to go, and if he could just get them both back to where they'd been five minutes ago, with Steve over him, in him, blocking out all thought, they'd be –

The space between Steve's brows wrinkled. "Then what was that –" He stopped. His face cleared. "Oh. Is it because you were speaking German? You think I'm upset about that?"

Bucky winced. Things were always simpler when he had a weapon in his hand or orders to carry out. This...navigating the tricky areas where the darker aspects of his past butted up against what he was trying to rebuild with was like tip-toeing through a minefield blindfolded. "I know, it's –"

"Unbelievable," Steve muttered, then louder: "It's fine, is what it is." Then he gave that stupid little half-smile he got when he was trying to be all reassuring and charming. Bucky'd seen variations of that smile since he was just a kid, and it still never failed to make his heart clench. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep Steve smiling just like that, amused and whole and full of enough light for a thousand stars. There was nothing Bucky wouldn't do to keep this, what they had, the only thing he'd always been able to count on. "All those languages you know, I mean, they're part of you, right?"

"Wrong." His fists clenched at his sides, and it took a considerable effort on his part to relax them. "They're part of the Winter Solder. Not me. Not when I'm with you." He didn't want that part of him debasing what he had with Steve. Couldn't Steve see that?

"Buck, we've talked about this." Steve's smiled turned patient. He dipped his head, bestowed the lightest of kisses to Bucky's lips. "I want you. All of you. Bucky Barnes, Sergeant Barnes, the Winter Soldier, covert operative, all of it. And if that means learning more French than what Dernier taught me or German that's not, I dunno, all military, or any other language, so I know what you're saying in bed so I can better please –"

"You don't, okay. That's not what I want." Fuck this, and fuck Steve for insisting on talking about it. Frustrated, head now throbbing, Bucky employed a quick counter-move and reversed their positions, used speed and momentum to pin Steve on his back and under him. Sure, Steve could probably break the hold. But Bucky knew he wouldn't.

And the fact that Steve still trusted him after all Bucky had done... It was worth everything.

He took a deep breath, and gave Steve the only thing he could, the only thing that he knew Steve cared about and wanted from him, the only thread that bound them together as a unit. The truth.

"I have almost a dozen languages in my head," he confessed, staring down at Steve, falling, as always, under the spell of those too-blue eyes. The air around them seemed to shimmer, cocooning them in this small, safe bubble. Everything would be alright as long as he had Steve by his side. "Every language up here –" he tapped his temple " – they were all for missions. For targets. And most times, I can push them back, tamp them down, but when I'm with you, sometimes..." He shrugged, helpless. A dozen languages, and he still couldn't explain himself for dick when it came to Steve. Story of his life. But then, Steve had always been the articulate one. "And I don't want you to...what I mean is... You're not a target, alright."

Steve shifted under him, but it was only to cradle Bucky's weight in the vee of his thighs. He ran light fingers down Bucky's arms, metal and flesh, treating both with equal care. "If you want to recite Russian poetry to me in bed or talk dirty to me in Italian or German or whisper romantic French nothings into my ear or...whatever it is you want, I don't care. I really don't. It's kinda hot, actually."

"Steve, c'mon, don't..."

"I'm serious." Those same fingers ran down his back, tracing over muscle and scars and skin, set fire to sensitized nerves. "In fact, let's try a little something."

"Let's not. I don't need one of your harebrained schemes, alright," he sighed, because he knew that look. And that look always spelled trouble. "You don't gotta prove anything to me."

"This isn't about that. I promise." Steve lifted his head in invitation. And Bucky, who really was as dumb as a box of rocks when it came to Steve, met the kiss halfway, because saying no was never really an option. "I want all of you. I accept all of you. So...let's...I mean, if you think you can handle it, I wanna start over again. Lay you out and touch you all over and give you everything, and all I want is for you to lay back and talk to me, tell me anything you want, confess anything you want, in any language you want..." He trailed off, gave Bucky an expectant look, like Bucky was supposed to know what the hell he was talking about, and just –

Wait, wait.

"Hold up, are you –?" Bucky waited a beat. Two. Steve didn't move, didn't say anything. There was no way in hell he wanted "You're fucking kidding me? Oh my God, you're not...fuck. No. Absolutely not, I –"

"I want this." Steve rotated his hips in emphasis. Bucky's eyes glazed over as a fresh wave of need swept over him. Cheating bastard. "C'mon, you can do it," Steve wheedled. "Unless you don't think you're up for it..."

"Fuck you, I know what you're doing." Bucky pitied the poor saps that thought Steve was some virginal paragon of old-fashioned virtue and morals, and for whoever he'd managed to fleece with those dimples and that shy, coquettish smile, because Steve had always been the dirtiest fighter of anyone Bucky'd ever met, himself included.

"C'mon, it'll be fun. An experiment." Once again, Steve rolled his hips, his still slick cock sliding along the cleft of Bucky's ass. His teeth raked Bucky's jaw. "I could do this all day..."

Bucky groaned in frustration, but rocked back. "I am going to kill you."

"Yeah, you tried that already and sort of failed," Steve replied, and licked the shell of his ear. "Say yes."

Bucky shivered. "Seriously, Steve..."

"Say yes."

Steve was going to be the death of him, all there was to it. "You're an evil man, anyone ever tell you that."

"Yeah, you, all the time. Funny that," Steve said, and grinned, wide and wicked enough to tempt a saint into sin. "And I'm just gonna take that as a yes." Then he nudged at Bucky's hips. "C'mon, on your back, soldier."

"You're an asshole," Bucky grumbled, but did as ordered and laid flat on the bed. This was a terrible idea. There were so many ways this could go wrong, blow up in Steve's face, and it would serve him right if it did. But Bucky was still a sucker, and Steve was still Steve, and everyone - from Nick Fury on down to the kids in the neighborhood - knew what that meant.

Steve leaned over him and smiled. "Just remember, alright, you can say anything, tell me anything..."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Such a terrible idea. But he had Steve right here, all sleek muscle and sun-bronzed flesh, naked and hard and looking at him like he was dessert, and Bucky would have be to be a much better person and much less selfish man to say no to that. And Steve knew it, too. Knew it and had no problems taking advantage of it when it got him something he wanted.

Волк в ове́чьей шку́ре.

That was Steve all over. That aw shucks, ma'am helpful exterior housing the most dangerous man Bucky had ever known. A man Bucky would follow until the world ended or into the abyss or wherever Steve needed him, no second guesses, no questions asked.

"Look at you," Steve marveled, running a light hand down Bucky's chest. "I know you don't like hearing it, but you're gorgeous, Buck. Gorgeous and mine and I dunno how I lucked into you, I really don't."

Which, no, that was Bucky, and they both knew it. But he knew what Steve was trying to do. And it wasn't gonna work. He wasn't going to cave that easily. He was stronger than this.

Steve stretched out beside him and bent his head, touching soft lips to the scars on his left shoulder, where his metal arm met flesh. He could feel Steve's smile against his skin as he moved down, peppering butterfly kisses across his collarbones and chest, every caress as light as air, as ephemeral as mist. Each touch a tease, a slow seduction, meant to drive him wild, get a reaction.

But he could do this. He was a sniper, an expert in the art of patience, of stillness. He was used to going days, weeks, without saying a word. He was silence, he was stealth incarnate, he was –

Then, Steve moved lower, scraped teeth along his ribs, hard and sharp, exactly the way Bucky liked it, and the words fell from his lips, unbidden.

"Sì, lì, così è perfetto..."

"I'm gonna take that to mean I should keep going," Steve said, and went further south, mapped out every bit of sensitive skin, exploited every shift and sigh. He spaced out more kisses along Bucky's hips and thighs, made his slow, tortuous way down Bucky's legs, did exactly what he'd promised. Worshipped Bucky's body with slow sweeps of his hands, with the flat of his tongue and sharp nips of his teeth, like he was executing a mission in the field. This was Steve the way Bucky loved him the most: relentless and assured and using Bucky's body however he wanted, taking control and leaving Bucky no choice but to ride out the waves.

"Non ti merito... Ti prego non fermarti, non fermarti mai... "

Steve flashed a smile at him, like he understood (and maybe he did - he'd always been good at reading Bucky's mind), and moved back up until he was stretching his lips over Bucky's cock. Bucky tangled hands in Steve's hair and his hips snapped up to meet the warm, wet oblivion of Steve's mouth.

"C'est ça, suce ma bite, Seigneur, ta bouche..."

Steve kept a steady, maddening pace, stroked his tongue along the underside and it wasn't enough. Bucky needed more, needed Steve inside him, needed the ecstasy only Steve could provide –

He yanked at Steve's hair, hot, urgent, too far gone to be gentle. "Komm her. Ich will dich. Jetzt –"

And Steve, bless him, got the message, slithered up his body and kissed him, hard and possessive, as he fumbled for the lube that had rolled, at some point, on the floor. "Pośpiesz się," Bucky urged, biting on Steve's lower lip as Steve quickly coated his cock. "Potrzebuję cię."

"Gimme just a sec, I need –" The both groaned as Steve sank back inside him, thick and hard and совершенный and finally, thank fuck, started to move.

"Schneller, komm schon, beweg dich, " Bucky bit out, desperate and raw, wrapping muscular legs around Steve's hips to push him even deeper. "Ich halt das schon aus, komm schon -"

Mercifully, Steve shut him up with a kiss, pushed his tongue past Bucky's teeth and swallowed whatever else he'd been about to say. Every thrust was wild, uncontrolled, desperate, and Bucky matched him note for note, beat for beat, gave himself over entirely to the press of Steve's cock and the heat of his body and the dance that the two of them had perfected decades ago, before the serum and war and death and rebirth and too many conspiracies to count had torn them apart.

"Vsegda ty," he gasped, as Steve reached between them, took his cock in a sure grip and stroked up. "Tol'ko ty, ya tvoy, Steve, navsegda – "

It didn't matter that Steve didn't know what he was saying, because he knew Bucky on a level beyond words, beyond language, beyond thought.

There was only this, only them, Steve gasping his name like a refrain to a well-loved song, only the way Steve moved, frantic and deep, taking Bucky apart with every thrust, Steve, beautifully undone, debauched in a way that no one else ever got to see, and completely Bucky's –

Then Steve bottomed out again as his wrist twisted and everything went hazy and dark.

He came back to himself in slow degrees – the tangled sheets at the foot of the bed, the stickiness between his legs and on his stomach, the sheen of sweat prickling his skin –

He blinked into awareness and shivered as cool air from the fan overhead swept over him. Then hissed out a pained breath as Steve slowly pulled out of him. The emptiness was almost unbearable.

Steve paused in the act of reaching for the washcloth on the nightstand. "Ty v poryadke? Ne sil'no ya tebya?"

Bucky blinked. Had he passed out or something? Was he dreaming? "Did you just...? Did I just hear you...?"

Steve quickly cleaned them both up and tossed the washcloth aside. He rolled to his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows. His look was sheepish, shy in a way that he only got when he was embarrassed about something. "Uh, yeah, so. Um, Natasha's been teaching me Russian. It's still early going, but she says I'm picking it up pretty fast."


"All of you. Tol'ko ty, Bucky. Navsegda." Steve's eyes were so blue it hurt to even gaze at them, but Bucky couldn't look away. Hearing his own words repeated back to him, hearing Steve say it, and knowing that he knew exactly what they meant...

"Navsegda," he echoed, a whisper, felt the vow settle somewhere deep inside him, in the space that Steve had always occupied, one that had never needed words.

Steve nodded once, and reached down, laced their fingers together, the touch grounding Bucky into the present, into who he was now, who he was trying to learn how to be. "I'm right here," Steve said. "I'm not going anywhere and there is nothing you could do or say to push me away, and if I need to learn how to say that to you in every language there is for you to believe me, then I'll do it."

"Yeah, you probably would, too," Bucky conceded. He would never be worthy of this, of the trust and love and faith Steve had always had in him, no matter what. But he'd do his best to keep earning it, every day, every minute. He lifted his head off the pillow long enough to give Steve a quick kiss. "Overachieving Boy Scout."

"Hey, that's not fair, you know I was never a Scout," Steve grinned, and the next kiss wasn't nearly as quick or chaste. "Feel like hitting the shower?"

"Sure," Bucky replied and let Steve pull him to his feet. Then he wrapped his metal arm around Steve's waist and hauled him close, and dragged his teeth along the stubble on Steve's jaw. "Aber sobald wir in der Dusche sind, bin ich auf meinen Knien und du hast meine Zunge so tief in dir - solange bis du kommst. Und dann fick ich dich, bis mein Name die einzige Sprache ist, die du noch beherrscht. "

Steve's breath hitched and he flicked a quick tongue to moisten his lower lip. "Really? You couldn't have said all that in English or French or, y'know, a language I really know?"

"Not a chance," Bucky grinned, and started nudging Steve towards the bathroom. "But I'll be happy to demonstrate the basic gist of it, if you want."

"Fair enough," Steve replied, and it was almost comical how eagerly he started tugging at Bucky's arm to move him along.

Yeah, Steve got him alright. He knew the language of Bucky, and that was the only thing that mattered in the end.