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Across the Universe

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bucky space tentacles

Night in Brooklyn is never truly dark. Streetlights, office buildings, headlights from passing cars... They shown through the tiny kitchen window of Steve Rogers’s apartment, lighting up the limited space and the mess that filled it--past the kitchen table, past the messy bed in the corner, past the giant red, white, and blue decorated shield leaning by the foot of the bedside table. Art supplies, note papers, and canvases of various sizes piled in the corners to make space for an easel, where a half-finished oil painting stood drying. The clothe meant to be covering the painting lay on the floor. Paint brushes scattered around a upturned palette. The artist seemed to have left in a hurry, leaving the indigo paint to shine in the city light.

Indeed, Steve had hurried out of his studio in the dead of night. It wouldn't be safe to be wandering the streets at this odd hour for most people, but the man sprinting down the streets at full speed was Captain America, a man used to far worse than street gangs and common muggers. He didn't even have his famous shield with him. Even if he wasn’t a superhero by profession, safety would remain equally far from his mind this night.

The light had shown up again, and he must find out what it was. Images haunted his dreams by night, and hues of blue dominated his brushes by day. Strange sea creatures were all that he could paint for months. Before that--well, before that he had been preoccupied with world events and the fallout with a friend that’s practically family. Thinking about his fight with Tony and the divided Avengers made Steve sadder and lonelier than ever. The consequences of their fight were great. He knew Tony was still angry, but Steve stand by his belief. Giving up the power to decide their own actions to others will inevitably turn them into another set of pawns played to fulfill agendas--agendas that doesn’t necessary put innocent lives as priority. He cannot allow that. Tony didn’t agree. The government didn’t agree. But Tony was graceful enough to pull a few strings to keep federal agents off Steve’s back. Thanks to him, Steve wasn’t on the run. But he better keep his nose clean for awhile. Keep out of trouble, as his ma would have told him.

Then the dreams started, and he picked up his brushes again. The colors exploded in his dreams night after night, driving away nightmares and worries. He still kept a lookout on what was happening in the world, but his brushes couldn’t stop. If he did, he would be overwhelmed by the images that he must put down on paper. So it started, day after day, tentacles with shining lights lining the edges, flashing on his canvas as they have shone like beacons in his dreams. He believed them to be merely dreams until a about week ago, when he woke from another seabreeze-filled dreams to find the same lights blinked and disappeared from his window. He dashed across the room and looked out, but the shadow was gone. No trace of it could be found. Steve figured he had imagined it.

This particular night, something kept him up painting all night until the small hours of the next day. He felt as if he’d lose inspiration if he stopped. He was frantically smearing more paint around a patch of star shaped marking when he saw two spots of light reflecting off the paint. He thought he imagined it. That, or one of the lightbulbs has overheated again. He blinked and the lights disappeared. Steve stood up so rapidly he knocked the stool over and turned around to the window just in time to see a dark shape dashing out of sight. He didn’t even stop to think what time it was or what he was doing. With a determined mind, he ran to the window and jumped out onto the fire escape. It was two floors up but he flipped himself over the railings without a second thought, landing on the pavement below with nothing more than a soft thud. He had to know what this creature from his dreams was doing here. What was it doing out of the waters?

Steve’s heart pounded wildly as stood on the streets looking both ways. He didn’t see the creature anywhere. Blindly, he followed a pull, or a kind of intuition, and turn east towards Prospect Park. He hardly registered the fenced-off gardens and what few stores still open that he dashed pass on the way. No, the only thing on his mind was the shadow and the lights that kept calling to him. He didn’t stop when he got to the park to find the gates closed. Without hesitation, he jumped and pulled himself over. Picking up speed again as soon as he landed on the other side, desperate to get to the lake.

It wasn’t until he was finally standing at the water’s edge that he registered the rashness of his actions. What was he doing standing in the deserted park at 2 am, out of breath, and in search of a shadow of an illusion? What made him so sure that the thing was here, if it was even real to begin with?

He turned to go. But from the corner of his eye, the waters stirred. Steve jumped back so quickly he tripped over his own foot and landed on the ground. Ripples flow towards the edge from where a shape disappeared under the surface.

Probably just a fish. Steve shook his head and breathed out a sigh. He should really stop this nonsense and go home. But he couldn’t make himself get up off the ground and go. He watched the waters until it stilled, as if expecting something to happen.

Seconds ticked by.

That something, as it turned out, was the light below the surface, growing ever brighter. Steve stayed vary still this time, afraid that if he blink, it would disappear again. A head broke the surface. Two eyes, deeply set and rimmed with glowing blue markings were peeking out at him curiously. Steve couldn’t breath. They were the exact same eyes that watched him from every corner of his dreams. The markings flashed in variant brightness, like tears about to fall. But there were no sorrow in the eyes, only cautious curiosity. Mirroring the look on Steve’s face.

“Um. Hi?” Steve tried.

Immediately, the head disappeared under the waters, but the lights didn’t go out this time.

Ever so slowly, the strange man poked his head out of the water again.

“Hey.” Steve tried again.

Neon markings flashed nervously, and the water around the man (Creature--Steve reminded himself. Remember he might not be as friendly as he looks.) rippled as if he was about to move away but forced himself to stay. When Steve made no move to get closer, he got out of the water more. The waterline dropped below his chin, showing a glowing lower lip on an otherwise very human looking pair of lips. They are thin, but with beautifully well-defined points and cupid's bow. The corners looked as if they can smirk and poke fun at you and still not offend. But the man wasn’t smiling now, he looked ready to bolt if Steve turned out to be hostile.

“Um…. I’m Steve.” Even as he said it, Steve started to wonder if the man even speaks English. The Arial did, right? Oh wait, she lost her voice in the beginning. Okay, he should really stop equating the current situation to a fictional mermaid encounter. Anyway, it doesn’t hurt to try to communicate. “What’s your name?”

The creature hummed, but otherwise said nothing. Steve inched closer. Mr. Silent got bolder and swam right up to the edge, and propped himself up, both arms on the side and resting his chin on top, still inspecting Steve with interest.

Steve inched closer. Kneeling on all fours, his fingers were as close to the strange man's arms as he dared to be. Their eyes met, the man staring at Steve unblinking until Steve finally looked away, choosing to focus on his glowing lips instead.

“I, um, I think it was you at my window earlier.” He could think of nothing to do other than continuing the one sided conversation.

To his surprise, the man responded with a brief nod. Oh, so he does understand English!

The man reached out, his figures growing with the same cold luminance as all his markings. He touched Steve's paint-smeared finger--ET style. Steve was transfixed. Finally, the strange man spoke. "You paint beautifully."

Steve blushed. He wasn’t expecting that. Of all the things the man could have said, he complimented on Steve's painting. Most people don't talk about that anymore, now that saving lives is what usually gets Steve media attention. He doesn’t have that much down time to paint anyway. It's only a hobby to help him wind down nowadays, and he doesn't exactly go around showing people his work (even though Nat and Sam kept encouraging him to do so). He was at a lost for a proper response.

“My friends call me Bucky.” the man offered after it became clear that Steve wasn’t going to say anything else.

“Bucky…” Steve repeated.

In the silence that follows, Steve was suddenly aware of the cool breeze on his exposed neck. It was already late Spring, but the night can still get chilly. The pond water must be freezing! Steve felt guilty he that he didn’t notice this earlier. He was about to say something to convince Bucky to get out of the water, but something in his expression must have alarmed the man.

Bucky pulled his hand back as if he got electicshocked. His muscles were tense, ready to escape into the waters again. He was looking at Steve with concern.

“Don’t go!” Steve said it much louder than intended.

Cautiously, Bucky swam back. “You look like something was wrong.”

“I was thinking you must be cold in the water.” Steve explained hurriedly. “Do you want to come out? Come back home with me. Maybe, you want something to eat?"

What was he doing inviting a strange man to go home with him?

Bucky frowned. "I don't get cold. But thanks for the offer."

The declination disappointed Steve more than he thought reasonable. He cleared his throat. "Um, okay. If you change your mind, you know where I live."

Bucky smiled for the first time, although he seemed more apologetic than happy. "Sorry, Steve. I didn't mean to intrude. I thought--Well, I was curious about Captain America." He made a face after the sentence left his lips. "That sounds creepy, doesn't it?"

Yes. Yes it does. That was what Steve should've said. "Not at all." he replied.

Steve Rogers simply cannot lie.

“Earth is lucky to have you.” Bucky continued. "You should go home. Can't have you sleep-deprived and catching a cold out here because of me."

He's chasing me away. Steve thought sadly. But Bucky's words have a finality to them so Steve obeyed. He stood up, ignoring the loneliness that was creeping on him. "Alright then. Visit me sometime? I hope I'll see you soon."

"Sure Steve." came the uncommitted reply.

The trip home seemed much farther than it really is. Steve couldn’t forget the face with the strange luminescent markings, so cautious yet curious. He was so sure Bucky wanted to get to know him better, yet he refused to have any more interaction than a meeting in the park. Steve sighed. Perhaps seeing him up close was all that Bucky wanted. He turned around to look back the way he came. Already Prospect Park come to mean something quite different than a daily jogging route. He was beginning to associate everything on the way with Bucky. Water for him to swim in, shadows for him to hide, breeze through the leaves that he can hum to.. Steve realized he was looking at all the shadows, expecting to see the strange man in one of them, following him ever at a distance. But it was just his imagination running wild again, keeping him from getting home too quickly lest closing the front door meant ending what possibility he had of seeing Bucky again. Steve shook his head for the last time that night, forcing himself to be logical and get a move on home.

By the time he opened the front door and replaced the spare key under the carpet, Steve had made up his mind to stop fantasizing about meeting Bucky again.

Across the street, a dark shadow emerged took form under the London planetree. Two tear-like fluorescent markings lighted up, framing the sea-grey eyes that gazed up to the second floor.

Chapter Text

NSFW Bucky Color

Steve closed his apartment door and turned to find a very naked Bucky standing in front of his open window. He jumped, back hitting the closed door. Instinct told him to find cover. His combat training helped him to calm down and recognize the lack of threat in the small studio. It was only the friendly strange man. There were no visible weapons, Steve noted. He scanned the full length of the man standing in front of him once more.

Apart from the luminescence markings that ran all along his torso, he looked human enough from the waist up, but from the waist down--here Steve averted his gaze quickly as soon as he caught himself staring--many octopus-like tentacles sprouted from where the legs should have been. What got Steve brushing hard, however, wasn't the inhuman limbs. Between the nervously twitching limbs, lay a male genital that closely resembles that of a human penis, but much better endowed, and covered in glowing blue markings like the rest of his body. The head of the penis was also blue, but unlike the rest of his markings,  it wasn’t flashing bright like neon signs.

Steve swallowed and forced himself to behave like the host he should be.

"Please, make yourself at home."

Markings flashed. The merman didn't move from the spot. He cocked his head slightly to the side, clearly analyzing his thoughts before speaking. "I startled you. I'm sorry."

"Oh." Steve had almost forgot about that. "I just thought--well, I thought you didn't want to come."


Why? Steve thought. Because it seemed too good to be true.

But he couldn't pinpoint why having a handsome human-fish hybrid in his apartment is good. He shook the thought away and focused his attention on Bucky once more.

Oh my god he's completely naked .

The silence stretched on until he realized that Bucky was still waiting for an answer.

"I don't know." he answered truthfully.

Desperate to keep the conversation going, he gestured at the dining table. "You can sit down if you want. Can I get you anything? Water? Juice? And--" He hesitated, but decided that he couldn't avoid a situation that bothers him forever. "--I can get you a shirt too."

Finding fitting pants would be difficult though, he thought, but was too polite to mention it.

Bucky looked down at himself. "You're bothered by my state of undress." There was no accusation or abash in his voice. It was merely a statement about his observation. "In that case, yes, a shirt will be much appreciated; and pants, if you don't mind. I can hide my limbs too."

He thinks I am uncomfortable about the tentacles… Steve felt terrible for having mentioned anything about clothing even though Bucky doesn't seem bothered by it at all. He was about to apologize when the merman's limbs retracted and left in their place two normal human legs. The markings remained, so did the unusually endowed penis. Steve gulped.

"Humanoids are the most common form that intelligent species take across the universe, it seems." Bucky said it as if that explained everything. "My ancestors evolved shape-shifting to fit in."

Not merman but alien?

Steve swallowed the questions welling up in him. "I'll see if I can get something that fits."

"Thank you, Steve."

Bucky gave him a lopsided smile and Steve felt himself melt inside. That is a smile he would like to see more often, he decided.

Steve was searching for a proper pair of underwear (This is no more different than taking care of rescued war prisoners, mundane details can make impactful difference to comfort.) when he heard a soft hum starting behind him. The sound didn't surprise him this time. He had gotten used to Bucky's presence in a surprisingly short time. He didn't turned around until he had all the essential clothing in his hands.

Bucky had pulled a chair to the window and was finally seated. In his hands-- Steve gulped again when he realized how easily he had let his guard down--was Steve’s shield. A tentacle was rubbing the edges, making the shield sing like a crystal wine glass. The attractive alien was humming a strange tune to it. There was no obvious procession to the song that Steve could make out. The notes are mostly long and deep, with an air of ancientness and melancholy. Whatever it was, it was easy to the ear.

Carefully, Steve set the clothes down on the table behind Bucky, not wishing to disturb the captivating song. He didn't know how Bucky managed to move things around without making a noise, but he know he wouldn't be able to do it. Opting out the other dinning chair that was pushed up neatly against the table and the stool that's still lying on the floor, Steve tiptoed to his bed and set down. Bucky's song seemed to be penetrating him down to his very core. He felt an unfamiliar calmness washing over him, the sensation was almost dreamlike. All his worries were gone. He was still Steve Rogers, but he seemed a different man, a completely different species even. The world no longer weighed down on his shoulders. The heaviness he felt was comforting rather than suffocating. Steve didn't feel it when his eyelids drop. He didn't feel it when he landed softly on the comforter…

He had the vague feeling that he was floating, but he couldn't make out if it was in water or in air. Everything was just… warm. He saw nothing but navy blue at first. And then, gradually, stars blinked to life one by one like they do after sunset. They were all around him.

Something smooth slithered up one of his legs. Looking down, he found Bucky's neon decorated lower limb wind itself upward, first around his calf then around his thigh. Instead of feeling alarmed, Steve wanted to encourage it. He knew what he wanted, but he won’t ask. He could only hope. Closer, please…

More tentacles appeared. But their owner was nowhere to be found. Steve didn't think to look. It made perfect sense to his mind that Bucky simply was all around. A few of the thinner tentacles reached up and caressed his face. Eyes closed, he let the sensation wash over him. He felt some of them climbing up his arms, gentle successive suckers kissed the serum-enhanced muscles. Suck, release, suck, release, suck, release…

He was writhing under the intimate sensations. More, he thought. Please, I need more.

His prayers were answered. He let out a sob of thankfulness when he felt pressure from tiny tentacles landing their touches on his dick. The caress was particular and foreign. He was too curious not to inspect them a little closer. It was, in fact, one single tentacle that was determined to pleasure him. Blue with luminescent markings like its counterparts, it differ from the others only at the very end. It consisted of several dozen much thinner tentacles, each about two inches in length. They lit up neon bright all the way to the very tip, where a single tiny suction cup was situated. These suckers were the ones currently turned towards Steve’s rock hard penis, holding onto him like numerous tiny fingers, massaging him lovingly. He sighed with every squeeze, and bucked his hips into the touches even though there was nothing to thrust into.

He was so focused on the overwhelming sensations on his dick he didn't notice the other tentacle sneaking up his behind and up his neck until the tentacles added a tad more force to catch his attention.

They're asking for permission, Steve realized. This was somehow slightly surprising, but the action had gained his additional respect and approval. He felt complete confidence in letting himself up to the tentacles' mercy.

"Take me. Choke me. Do what you want with me."

The words left his lips like a prayer. Gladly, the tentacles obeyed. The ones resting at his behind sprayed slippery fluid all over him. Steve still couldn't tell which side was up. The fluids got everywhere--dripping off his buttocks, flowing around his balls and onto his dick, mixing with his own precum. Some flowed along his inner thighs, relaxing him like a hot bath. He was so ready he knew he'd start begging again if they don't take him soon. But the tentacles were as merciful as they were gentle. One pushed in smoothly and without much resistance.

"Ah!" was all Steve could say.

It worked in and out of him at a moderate speed, testing out his capabilities. When it found that Steve seemed never quite get satisfied with what it did, a second tentacle suddenly came up and whipped his behind, chastising him for being greedy. The shock and force shot though Steve like electricity, traveling along the length of his dick, forcing out sprouts of precum.He cried out and instinctively tried to move away, but all the tentacles held fast. The whipping tentacle caressed the spot on his behind that was starting to throb. It added three light taps to the same spot. Its meaning was clear: misbehave again, and you'll be whipped.

"Please." Steve sobbed. "I need more."

A tentacle took pity on him. It pulled on his balls a few times before wrapping around them and continuing its way between his legs and up to the entrance. It entered, this time deliberately putting on pressure to open him up. Steve jerked, but dared not beg for more. The first tentacle found his prostate and set to work, relentlessly simulating the spot, making sure that Steve won't be able to stop sobbing.

The tentacles had gotten bold now that they know for sure that Steve’s capacity for sexual stimulation was much much higher than all that they had been doing so far. The tentacle that held on to his neck tightened, momentarily cutting off his airflow mid-gasp. He tried to pry it off with both hands. Immediately, tentacles shot out from nowhere, wrapped around his wrists, and pulled the arms away. Even as his struggled, his groin felt the building pressure of an oncoming orgasm. He wanted this. He was enjoying the loss of control over his body, to be at complete mercy of these alien limbs. He is now bounded immobile, spread-eagled and venerable, still choking from lack of air. The tentacle only released him long enough to give him a chance to protest against the tiny tentacle that circled the opening at the tip of his dick. It did a test wiggle to try borrow inside. Its intentions were clear.

Steve only sobbed for more.

The chokehold tightened once more, and the tiny tentacle slithered right in through the tight opening on his dick. It worked at a steady rhythm. In. Out. In. Out. Careful lest it tears the delicate tissues there. In contrast, the ones taking him from behind had picked up a brutal pace, pounding on the bundle of nerves and making him cry out whenever air was grunted to him.

Steve felt as if he's on the border of being overwhelmed by stimulation, but they were far from done with him. One tentacle slid across his chest as if it want to cocoon him up for a hug. He was wrong about that. Two of the many suckers had positioned themselves right  on top of his nipples. The tentacle muscles contracted, creating a powerful vacuum on the sensitive nibs. He tried to scream, but there wasn't enough air in his lungs. The tension on his neck stayed for one second longer before easing up to let him gasp and gulping for air in great lungfuls.

None of the fucking eased up while Steve tried to catch his breath. They were letting him rest only because there were more to come. Small tentacles crawled into along the back of his head and took a fistful of what short hair they can held on to. With determination, they turned his head so that he was looking dead into the tip of a tentacle with its end shaped like a human dick. Its head was glowing brilliant blue, and it came up close to his face. Steve knew what it wanted, and obediently, he parted his lips and relaxed his throat to prepare for entry. Its skin was full of texture on his tongue. The weight was welcoming and addicting, and Steve knew he will forever hunger for it in the future. Sweet liquid trickled down his throat, and Steve drinked it all down like a thirsting man. There was a metallic twang to the taste, mixed with a hint of earthly, nutty fragrance, and a subtle flavor that reminded Steve of cascara.

It was too much. His body tensed. Steve could hardly register that he was at the brink of orgasm, but the tentacles picked up on the cue. They all stopped. The tentacle in his dick stiffened, holding still and keeping him erect and strained uncomfortably. The one on his balls tightened. No more pounding on his sensitive prostate. The tentacles holding his head pushed, forcing him to take the dick-like tentacle deeper and cutting off any possibility for breath. The orgasm subsided and tears trickled down Steve’s face. It was too much. He tried to wiggle, tried to protest. The attempt earned him another hard wrack on his behind. The tentacle between his lips pulled away to let him gasp and sob and catch his breath again. The choke hold on his neck eased, and the tentacle slithered up to his face to wipe away the tears.

“More.” Steve whispered, still weak from the shock of orgasm denial.

The hold on his balls did not ease up as the brutal fucking resumed with increased intensity. One more tentacle joined the original two that was holding him open. Although, by this time, Steve could hardly feel the difference. They were there solely to keep the pressure up.

His body was sticky with sweat and cum. The tentacles had to use their suckers to hold on to him. Whenever they move to a new spot, they left behind faint hickey-like bruises in their wake. Some of them seemed to be deliberating sucking on his inner thighs, marking the skin blue and purple.

They continued like this. Steve lost count of the number of times they brought him right to the edge and denied him release. At some point there were tentacles that seemed to be licking up the liquid on his face, abdomen, behind, and along his dick, but he couldn’t be sure anymore. He only faintly remembered the dry and rough texture of a kitten’s tongue on him. There were other things he was too busy trying to do. Once, the dick-tentacle pulled away suddenly, and Steve tried to chase after it. Praying and begging not to be denied the sweet fluid. The grip in his hair tightened, and a tentacle slapped him hard across the face. He had misbehaved again. He whimpered and muttered a “I’m sorry.” that was quickly followed by “Please. I’ll be good.” So the dick-tentacle came back, glowing as bright as ever, and he eagerly took it back in his mouth. Any coherent thought he had after that was quickly replaced with “Oh. Ah. Please. More. Please…I’m so close.” and then, just as his pleasure got to the tipping point, everything would froze and he would silently cry. Tentacles would wipe the tears away and they would start over.

It was when he finally felt exhaustion creeping on him, his arms and legs already numb, his insides sore, and his dick swollen and angry with tension, that the sweet torture finally ended. His eyes were shut tightly to keep alien come from dripping into them. Some had already dried and caked in his hair. There were suction marks on his face, on top of the parts that were still stinging from multiple slaps. For the last time, he deepthroated the dick-tentacle. Down below, the tentacles in him retracted to leave the first original tentacle there. It swelled to fill up the emptiness left behind by the others, and if Steve thought that was it, he was dead wrong. There was a wiggle, and he felt something squeezing its way up his anaus, and then one more, and then another. He would’ve gulped hard had there not been a dick in his throat. Those were alien eggs! They were laying eggs inside of him! He tensed at the thought, and the tentacles on his balls chose this moment to release him. Its suckers tugged on him with one last lingering suck. With a violent jerk, he felt the contraction in his balls, and his orgasm overtook all his senses. Come leaked out from the gap between the stiff tentacle that was still sounding him. It retracted a moment later, finally allowing the cum to squirt out in strings. The tiny suckers massaged every last drop of sticky fluid from his penise before moving away and disappearing into the starry darkness around him. A final pulse of sweet alien cum poured down his throat. Steve drinked them all up. It made him drowsy and sleepy. He went limp, completely worn out from the orgasm. Satisfied of the effect it had on him, the dick-tentacle retracted along with all the others. One by one, his arms, legs, and chest was freed.

Suddenly, he was falling.

He didn’t even have time to scream. Steve woke with with a start, gasping, the sweet taste of cascara still on his tongue.

It was just a dream.

The thought gave him a slight sense of loss. He closed his eyes and tried to recall all that happened in his crazy wet dream. He want to remember it all: What happened and what it felt like. But already some of the details were slipping away. The realization that all that happened in the dream won’t happen in real life… It made him empty. Except that--here, Steve was slightly surprised--he was never really one that gave much thought about sexual activities. There never was much time, no right partner, more important things on his mind… He never seemed to feel the urge or need for sex. So how come he was so desperate to keep these memories? How did this massively sinful dream even came about? And what was that part about alien eggs? He definitely recall feeling more than thrilled to have them inserted in him, but now? The idea was bizarre though not alarming. Aliens--


Steve sat bolt upright in his bed. The comforter fell off his chest and landed in his lap. The weight caused him to groan. Gosh, he’s got a painful hard-on early in the morning! And he’s got a guest in the room! It’s even more embarrassing since the hard-on was clearly caused by dreamland sex with said guest. He looked around for his object of out-of-control urges.

Bucky was at the dining table, his arms tucked under his face. He had put on all the clothes Steve picked out for him the previous night. Both his legs were tucked up on the chair under him. No tentacles was in sight. He appeared to be fast asleep.

I’m a terrible host. Steve thought. How could I have not given him the bed and slept in the sleeping bag myself?

He recalled that he had fallen asleep listening to Bucky’s strange song. Afterwards, Bucky must have tucked him into bed. Steve was surprised that Bucky was still there. He felt guilty for not taking care of his guest better, but that didn’t stop him for feeling glad that his guest stayed.

Hoping not to wake said guest, Steve tried to move to the bathroom with as little noise as possible, but the moment he drew the converter away and swung his legs to the side of the bed, the alien’s eyes opened a crack, and looked straight at him.

“Oh, good morning Bucky.” Steve greeted him, trying to keep the tremor from embarrassment out of his voice.

“Good morning Steve.”

Bucky glanced down at Steve’s lap, and an amused grin spread over his face. Steve looked down to find an obvious bulge in between his legs. Oh God! Save me some dignity please!

The apartment was way too small. In two steps, the alien was by his side. Steve backed away from him quickly, and knocked his head on the headboard.

Bucky looked at him with the curious expression again. “Steve, I can help you with that.”

The alien, clearly eager to help, was already reaching out, ready to tug Steve’s pants off. He pulled his legs up to keep little Steve out of Bucky’s reach. Oh, how he wished he could just say yes to the offer. Pushing down the protesting voice in him, he composed himself, stealing his heart and tried willing the morning wood away. It didn’t work. It did, however, gave him enough mental strength to say what he felt was appropriate in this situation.

“Are you hungry Buck? I can make scrambled eggs and pancakes.”

The alien’s eyes lit up at the mention of food. “Yes. I would like that very much!”

Steve was thankful that his guest didn’t mention anything about his anatomy again that morning. Bucky did, however, watched him with interest as he hobbled around the kitchen awkwardly. He was just determined to fix his hospitality by at least making good breakfast. By the time he set the plates down in front of his guest, it had mostly subsided. He was almost able to sit down and eat with Bucky like he planned to. But then a thin tentacle clambered over the edge of the table and poked at the food cautiously. It kept to the shadows, as if trying not to call attention to itself. Even so, Steve couldn’t help noticing it. The sight filled him with images of what he fantasized it could do. Blood instantly rushed back into his groin, and Steve had to suppress a pained groan. He excused himself to the shower. The last thing he saw before the bathroom door closed, was his guest picking up the fork and poking at the pancakes and testing the consistency of the maple syrup with focused interest.

Chapter Text

In the days that followed, Bucky hang around Steve’s place. He usually disappears during daytime, and peeks in through the window when the sun has gone down and the shadows has stretched across the streets, providing some privacy to the fire escape. Steve kept the window open so that Bucky can slip inside whenever he wishes to. (Nick Fury would’ve had a heart attack if he knew how loose Steve is with security.) Although Bucky still asks first every time.

It wasn’t until Steve started leaving cookies and tea on the table that Bucky felt comfortable enough to come inside unannounced. The alien usually stays for the night, and eagerly appreciates the breakfast that Steve cooks for him in the morning. He had gotten increasingly close to Steve, yet there were many things that Bucky simply wouldn’t yield to. Sleeping on Steve’s bed was one of them. Steve tried convincing him that the bed was too soft for an old soldier anyways, but his new friend threatened to not stay the night if Steve doesn’t let him simply huddle in the corner. So Steve brought out the sleeping bag and let the alien do what he wanted with it. Bucky would lay it out and curl up on top like a giant blue cat. He would hum his strange tune, and Steve would fall right back into the same crazy kinky tentacle dreams. In the mornings, Bucky would fold everything up neatly, even army generals wouldn’t be able to find fault in the way he folds the sleeping bag and blanket. Steve always wondered, for an alien unused to human lifestyles, Bucky seemed incredibly apt as an upstanding model citizen. His good manners extended to every aspect, and to Steve was thankful that his new friend never offered to take care of the inconvenient morning wood since the first morning. Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t a morning he’d get out of bed without a raging hard on. Morning showers had became his boner-saving asylum.

Bucky seemed perfectly content in wearing Steve’s clothes. It was clear that he had been running around without before he met Steve. Where the alien had be hiding was anyone’s guess. He couldn’t have been here for too long, judging by his constant surprise and curiosity at most mundane human tools and objects. He had taken particular liking to some of them as well. One being the shield, (“It sings so prettily, Steve!”) and his friend’s old service cap Steve kept from the time before he went into ice-cold hibernation.

The cap had been sitting in the corner of his closet. Steve saw it when he was looking for yet more clothes for Bucky. (Who knew dressing up your favorite alien would be so fun?) He stared at it, memories of his friend from the old days flooding back to his mind. James Barnes: handsome face, cocky smiles, all too eager to be helpful. James was good with a gun, but never enjoyed violence. And he--he looked like Bucky. Suddenly, he wanted to see his new friend wear it very badly. Cap in hand, he turned to the alien.

“Hey, Buck. Here’s something I think you’ll find interesting.”

Bucky poked at it suspiciously with one glowing blue finger from his left hand. “What is it?”

“It’s a hat.”

“Doesn’t look like no hat to me.”

Steve sometimes forgot how much Bucky talked like the boys back in the days. Exactly like James. Instead of bring on more melancholic memories, there was something especially endearing about that. Perhaps it was the way he could make Steve not feel like the oldest person in the room like nobody else could. He wondered where Bucky learned human speech. But that’s a question for another time. He was busy introducing “the hat” to Bucky.

“It’s an army service cap from World War II.” Steve explained. “It was the last big war where many countries fought each other.”

All Bucky’s bright markings dimmed. He sighed sadly. “War.”

Steve sensed something was stirring in Bucky’s mind. It was the same kind of quietness Steve himself fall into when he thought of James and Peggy and his buddies in the Howling commandos. He wondered if Bucky also lost somebody.

The alien took the cap carefully in his hand and inspected it. He traced the inner rim with one finger. "You were in that war?"

"Yes. I was sickly, but they made me strong so I can fight for them."

“But this is not your hat.”

Steve stilled. He thought he wasn’t ready to share that part of his past with his new friend yet. But then, why would he show him the cap without wanting to tell the story?

“It was my friend’s hat.” Steve replied quietly. “He--”

A tentacle wrapped around his waist, pulling him in. Bucky wrapped both arms around his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me now.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky held him tighter. "What were you fighting for?"


Steve could see Bucky turning the word over in his head. He turned the hat over and tried to put it on his head. Steve reached it over and turned it around to the right side. That hat looked good with the alien's sharp jaw bones and straight nose. Steve smiled. Bucky would have made a fine soldier back in the days. The alien hesitated, and then smiled back.

Just like James. It’s like he couldn’t stand my idiotic ass and wangled a second life from God at heaven’s gate.

"There are some war worth fighting for, isn't there Steve?"

"I s'pose so Buck."


Bucky has taken a liking to checking himself out in the mirror. ( James used to do that for the ladies. Steve remembered fondly.) He’d stand in front of it naked, testing out all the possible tentacle arrangements, and finally put on Steve’s clothes and try to fix his hair.

Steve was distracted from washing the breakfast dishes when he saw Bucky retracted the last of his tentacles one morning. He still couldn’t refrain from staring at the alien’s crotch and wishing he could kneel between those muscular thighs and do something to it. With an effort, he pulled his mind away from the arising fantasy and focused on scrubbing the plates clean. He felt he had to ask the question that had nagged him for days.

“Buck, can I ask you something?”


“I can’t help noticing your level of comfort with nudity. Do your people not wear clothes at all?”

The alien looked down at himself. “Humans go out shirtless too.” he said, confusion clear on his face.

“Never trouser-less, though.”

Bucky thought about that for a few seconds. “You dress for modesty? Then I don’t see how any parts of the body is less modest than one another. My people? We have battle armors. Utility over comfort, you might say.”

Steve frowned. “Is clothing uncomfortable then? I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have--”

“I like your clothes.” Bucky cut the apologies short. “They are soft, and they reminds me of you when you’re not around. And, I like the hat.”

Indeed he did. Bucky had taken to putting James’s service cap next to the nightstand and singing to it at night. The shield, as always, his instrument of choice. Those nights always ended the same for Steve, he fell asleep before the song ended. He never knew what Bucky did after he slept. All he knew were dreams of tentacles and sex, and he wakes up hot and bothered. His morning routines got longer. A quick jerk in the shower was no longer enough to quench the fire. Cleaning takes time, but he could no longer stand the emptiness after a full night of fantasy anal sex. Steve did with an urgent sense of necessity, hoping the shower would muffle his pants and groans. It would be most awkward if the sounds passed into the rest of the apartment, where Bucky constantly look through the fridge for interesting food.


Despite the change in morning schedules, Steve keeps up with training and jogs. Prospect Park is a wonderful place to run around, but he still missed teasing Sam at every lap. That was the compromise he had to make by not being an Avenger, and moving back to New York. It was therefore understandable when he got so excited with Sam’s unannounced visit, he forgot he had an alien friend that drops in randomly at his apartment.

Sam hopped right out of his seat and pointed behind him at the window mid-conversation, hitting his knee on the underside of the table.

"Ow!" He howled, while still pointing at the window in panic.

Steve's face paled. He turned around quickly, blocking Sam from the window. But there was nothing there.

"I swear, Steve, I saw something big and blue just now."

"Um. Yeah. I believe you." Steve replied, distracted. He was straining to see if Bucky was still around.

“You do?” Sam studied Steve’s behavior critically. “Steve?”


“You’re not paying attention.”


Sam frowned. “What are you not telling me, Steve?”

“Um--” Steve looked over his shoulder. “Well…”

“Well?” Sam sounded like an angry grandmother.

“I forgot to tell you that I made an alien friend and he visits me around this time of the day.”

Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest, unimpressed. “Steve Rogers. Do you know how ridiculous that sounded?”

“I would’ve introduced you two, but I think you’ve frightened him.”

Steve turned back to the window in aspiration. “Buck? Bucky? Hey. It’s just my friend from work.”


“Com’n Buck. Don’t make me look stupid.”

“Who knew I’d frighten a big blue alien?” Sam shook his head.


Sam arched an eyebrow.

There was a knock at the door. Reluctantly, Steve stepped away from the window. Sam was still glaring at it like it would come to life at any moment and eat him alive. He didn’t look to see who was at the door until he heard the guy speak.

“Sorry Steve. Didn’t mean to startle your friend.”

“It was my fault. I should’ve warned him that you were coming.”

“How do I look?”

“You look good, Buck. Will you please come in now?”

“You sure? Um… Hey.”

Steve turned to find Sam at his shoulder. He pushed the door wide, revealing Bucky standing in the hallway. He was wearing Steve’s maroon sweater (one size too big for the him, but fuzzy and quickly turning into his favorite article of clothing after the service cap) and a pair of jeans, but no shoes. He had both hands in his pockets, and none of the marking were lighted up. He could’ve passed for a decently handsome human being on the streets of Brooklyn.

Like the well-behaved kid he was taught to be, Steve introduced his two friends to each other. “Sam, this is Bucky. Bucky, meet my wing-man Sam.”

Bucky stepped forward with a disarmingly charming smile and shook Sam’s hand. “I’ve heard about you and Redwing from the birds.”

That was how Bucky forced his way into the softspot of Sam’s heart one second after officially meeting him. A man that Steve likes, who talks to birds, and have a honest smile--who’d wonder about his mysterious alien history? To add to the impressive first impression, Redwing chose that moment to fly in through the window and settled on Sam’s shoulder. He cackled a greeting at Bucky. Bucky made a similar noise, and nodded his head respectfully.

Sam’s eyes widened. “You actually use bird speech! Not, telepathically, like I do.”

“It’s actually both.” The alien smiled, happy to talk about something he’s familiar about. “More efficient this way.”


As it turns out, Sam’s visit wasn’t purely casual. There was something he thinks Steve would be interested in looking into. Unusual activities in Queens: it could be linked to recent chain of terrorist attacks, or it could be nothing. Tony and co had their hands full on overseas operations, except for Natasha. She's working the case from American soils. Sam and Clint were technically still a fugitive after the incident at the airport. Dr. Lang… Well, it’s better to keep him out of private, low-key missions.

"It's unusual to leave Nat behind." Steve commented after Sam explained the situation. "They think something big is happening here."

"Or, she needs to come and convince the tough guy to help." said a silky voice from the window.

Quick as a flash, Bucky stepped in between Steve and the newcomer, his marking all lighted up.

Sitting at the window, her red hair in contrast to the simple view behind her, Natasha Romanoff, a.k.a. the Black Widow, held up both hands. "Whoa. Sorry to startle you gentlemen. Who is your new friend, Steve?"

Steve put a hand on Bucky's shoulder, and the alien visibly relaxed.

"Bucky, this is Natasha, she’s also a friend."

She didn’t wait for Steve to finish. "Nice to meet you, Bucky. Call me Nat." She hopped off the windowsill and walked over to shake Bucky's hand. "You seem like quite a fighter too. How did you meet?"

Steve blushed hard at the question, but Bucky was unfazed.

“I was in the neighborhood. We met in the park.”

Sam snorted. “Did he humiliate and impress you with his superhuman strength too?”

“You were slow Sam!” Steve protested.

Bucky simply smiled at the little scene in front of him. It was nice to see Steve interacting with his fellow human friends.

“Boys! Knock it off. There are worlds waiting to be saved! Are you coming or not?”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve and Sam said in unison.


The shady lead turned out to be a underground laboratory. It was stacked high with arsenal and explosives. It was nothing more than another ring to a misguided terrorist chain, filled with kids that thought they were there for a noble cause. This made Steve’s heart ache. They are reflections of a society breaking down and its people in discontent. Feeling oppressed for too long, the need to make their voice heard in anyway possible became an overwhelming force, leading to violence against the innocent. The oppressed became the oppressor, the bully… And when they do, Steve have no choice but to fight them. And try as he does to knock them out without killing anyone, casualties most often cannot be avoided.

What would you think of me Bucky?

He found his thoughts wandering to his new friend as he hid behind a corner, planning out the best action to prevent more people from getting hurt.

You trusted me so easily.

With a start, he realized he was missing his friend intensely. The alien had assured him that he would be fine without his human around for a few days. Still, Steve couldn’t help but wonder where Bucky was that night, what he was doing, whether he was singing his strange tune, and if he have anything to eat without Steve cooking for him in the morning. He also thought--although surely he was flattering himself--whether Bucky would wonder the same about him. Bucky did express his concern when Steve suited up and took the shield with him. “You don’t have guns.” he had observed. “I can go with you.” But Nat had assured him that she will have Steve’s back. They also don’t want to risk exposing Bucky to the people of New York, or worse, anyone who might be interested to take advantage of the intel. Reluctantly, Bucky let them go. He hugged Steve once, hard, muttered “be careful” in his ear, and melted into the shadow of the night.

As it turned out, it would only be one night away from the apartment, yet Steve was already aching to see the blue alien glow, the strange tentacles poking at things and catching stuff Bucky accidentally drop. (Bucky has a habit of just letting go of things mid-air, forgetting that gravity exists. When he does, a mass of tentacles would frail around frantically, trying to prevent anything from breaking. He was always quite successful, but would still look at Steve sheepishly and apologize, making Steve smile.)

His earpiece buzzed. Nat’s voice came through. “Steve? Please, don’t tell me you’ve fallen asleep on a mission.”

Steve refocused on the task at hand. Sooner this is over, sooner he gets to go home.


“You want to do what?”

“Draw you.”

“But you already did, my human.”

Steve swallowed down the warmth he felt inside when Bucky called him his human and resolved to carry on the conversation normally.

“I did, from memory, and from my dreams--” Dreams filled with sexual desires and inaccurate fantasies , he thought, but kept this to himself. “--I want to get you right. Have a proper drawing of you. To keep me close to you when I’m far away.”

Well, he didn’t meant to sound so needy, but Bucky seemed fine with it. In fact, he was smiling like the sun has finally showed its face after a week of storm.

“Like Da Vinci? He kept a drawing with him wherever he went.”

Steve wondered where he got that piece of information from.

“Yes, I think.” Steve answered carefully. “I just… I missed you last time I was away. And it was only for a night. What if the mission takes longer?”

Tentacles sneaked around him and hugged him tight. “Don’t be sad, my human. Draw me if you need to, but do not fear. If ever you miss me too much, look to the sky, and know that I will watch over you like the stars. And I will come to you if you call.”

The comprehension of one’s own mortality is a heavy burden. Perhaps it was the way Bucky spoke, or the serious nature of being honest about one’s emotions, that gave Steve a sudden overwhelming understanding of the nearness of death. Life doesn’t last forever. Everything is changing. Like flowing water down the river, ever similar, never the same. Eventually, he will be gone, and most likely, so will Bucky. The tentacles that wrapped around him, they will have to retract and move away. And Steve didn’t want that. He wanted to stay there, rooted on the bare floorboards of his apartment forever, no more missions, no more going away, no more change.

No more change.

“Draw me Steve. Draw. Everything that happened is a blessing. Fear not the ending because I will be with you till then.”

It was as if Bucky knew his mind, and knew precisely what to say. Steve recovered from the melancholy musings of life, squeezed Bucky tight one more time, pulled away, and nodded a thankful acknowledgement to the wisdom of the alien’s words. Before he turned away to get his tools read, a tentacle tapped his fingertip and sneaked up his finger. He looked up to find his friend smiling at him reassuringly. Steve found that everything felt right again.

He set about preparing the canvas, and brushes. Bucky sit down on the bed, watching him work with the rims of his eyes glowing bright blue.

Steve looked at him when he was ready, and realized he hadn’t asked the important question.

“Will you let me draw you nude?”

It was redundant inquiry. Bucky laughed. “Of course, Steve.” he said, already squirming out of the clothes he was in. Tentacles sprawled across the neatly made bed and pooled over the edge. They extended and relaxed the same a human would stretch after staying in a position for too long.

Steve made a mental note to let Bucky know that walking around naked in his apartment is welcomed.

“How do you want me Steve?”

On top of me and fucking me a million ways to tomorrow. Steve’s brain offered. He ignored it.

“Anyway you’re comfortable Buck. Let me know when you need a rest or a drink or anything.”

Steve went around to turn on the bedside lamp, lighting up his subject from behind. Typically he would prefer side light instead of downright back light for a portrait, but the Bucky with all his fluorescent markings defined his features better than any other light ever could.

The alien hummed happily as his human worked, his markings lighting up like Christmas lights. Steve made sure he was comfortable keeping the flashing lights going for a while. “They’re very pretty,” he explained. The alien laughed again, and asked if Steve would like to see them in different colors.

He did. Bucky showed him how he can light up a sequence of markings in different colors. He can also make the edges pinkish-purple while keeping the center blue. His skin also changes color. He can create jagged lightning-bolt strips and line them with yellow, or he can merge into his surroundings. Steve was fascinated, but in the end, they sticked with the blue hue. It seemed to hold the underlying character of who Bucky is, or at least, how Steve always saw him as.

The sketching process was quick. Steve had never been more familiar with another subject. He had thought about Bucky night and day, drew numerous sketches and experimented with many angles before they even met. And after that fateful night at the park, it was impossible for him to not make countless studies of every single detail of his friend’s features.

They talked about everything while Steve painted. Bucky asked about the everyday things of human life, its history, economy systems, and current events. In return, he chatted about traveling among the stars, staying on the spaceship for months (as counted by humans) on end, and the alien society he used to be in.

“What happened? Why did you leave?”

“I heard about Captain America.”

The alien made no indication that he was going to give any answer more than that. Steve knew not to ask.

After a short silence that followed, with only the soft rustling of Steve’s brushes and Bucky’s gentle humming, the alien tapped into Steve’s train of thoughts with a soft whisper.

“I’ll be with you till the end of the line, Steve.”

The brushes didn’t stop, but the artist smiled.


Steve walked in one day to find Bucky hugging his shield. More tentacles than he had seen since they met had sprout everywhere. And instead of the usual blue, they have become darker, with shades of red and purple decorating them up. It looked like Bucky had interstellar clouds trapped in his limbs.The alien didn't even look up at the intrusion. He continued to rock back and forth with the shield held tightly against his body. Sticky, whitish-blue fluid was everywhere: on the floor, on Bucky, and covering the the shield in a layer of goo. It glowed faintly in the same alien luminescence of Bucky’s markings. It also sparkled like it was mixed with children's glitter glue. Strong smell of petrichor filled the small space.

Steve was alarmed at first, thinking something was wrong. When his mind finally registered what the alien was doing. He quickly backed out of the room and leaned on the closed door.

He is jerking off to my shield!

Steve never thought he’d be so embarrassed yet so turned on at the same time. He couldn’t stay in the hallway forever. It would be difficult to explain to passing neighbors about the obvious bulge in his pants. Besides, he could hear Bucky’s familiar humming coming from inside, accompanied by the resonance of the shield from rubbing tentacles. The music clouds his reason as bad as ever. He was getting uncontrollable urges to drop his pants and beg for a tentacle up his anus. If he didn't get inside now, a raging hard on would not be the only thing he needed to explain to his neighbors.

He ducked back into the apartment. Bucky was still rutting against the shield. Steve could see his genitals now, glowing fiery blue and being dragged roughly against the edge of the shield. One of the tentacles were creating the crystal resonance that the alien was singing--no, moaning --in tune to. He had several tentacles wrapped tightly around his torso. And, by the looks of their twitching motion, they were massaging all the sensitive locations.

Steve was completely mesmerized. Even though he knew it was rude to barge in on what was clearly a private time, not to mention watching the whole act with great interest, he couldn't turn away. He looked at the many tentacles, some grabbing the window sill, some wrapped around furniture, and some--well, several of them disappeared underneath. Steve just knew that what he was seeing was the alien equivalent of fingering oneself. He could help sighing shakingly at the thought of what those tentacles would feel like inside himself. His first wet dream came back to him. He remembered how full he felt; how the pace was brutal; how it hurt despite the unfamiliar alien liquid was massaged into him beforehand by a much smaller tentacle; how he craved for it to hurt, to feel everything and be reminded that he was owned for days to come; how he was denied orgasm time and time again until he was right at the breaking point…

He groaned. His pants were choking his dick. It was incredibly improper, but Steve's left hand reached down, and he squeezed the bulge hard. He groaned again, much louder than expected.

Bucky finally looked up and saw him. His pupils were blown wide, blue and completely without whites. “Steve!” he moaned. And seeing Steve’s on his dick, he grinned happily.

Steve stammered, not quite remembering what he wanted to say. "B-Bucky?"

At that moment, the alien’s body tensed. The markings on his body flashed, one after another, giving the illusion that little bursts of light was all traveling towards his groin. Bucky moaned Steve's name, low and soft. Sparkling blue come shot out, covering the shield, and dripping in plentiful along tentacles and onto the floor. For a body that lacks visible testicles, it sure has very well plenished glens hidden somewhere.

Steve watched as Bucky relaxed and hugged the sticky shield to his body happily. The reds and purples on his tentacles faded back to navy blue. Several tentacles retracted and disappeared.

A thin tentacle reached out towards him--an invitation.


Steve's resolve to not get naked finally broke. He walked closer, and the tentacle wrapped around him. He was left with one hand free. With urgency and more than some difficulty, Steve tried to pull his shirt and pants off. The tentacles made quick work to help. Impatient ones squeezed through the band of Steve’s underwear and went straight for the target. Sticky and slick liquid from the alien’s previous activity got smeared all over Steve. In a tangle of limbs and clothing, Bucky reached for Steve’s face with both hands (also sticky with fluid) and pulled him in for a long kiss, dragging him onto the floor and on top the mass of squirming tentacles. Even with serum-enhanced lung capacity, Steve was left breathless.


Before he could say more, Bucky flipped them around and slammed Steve onto the floor, flat on his back. He could overpower the super soldier easily if he so wishes. Instead of filling Steve with worry, the realization sent a thrill down his spine.

He reached to touch Bucky, but was quickly pinned down spread eagle. The alien held him immobile and towered above him to stare right into his eyes.

“Tell me you want this.”

“Bucky, please.”

“I want to hear you say the words.”

“I want it Bucky! Quit playing games and just take me!”

The alien cocked his head to one side, inspecting him. “Tsk. Tsk. You are very rude when you’re impatient. I can’t ‘just take you’, you know? You’ll get hurt.”

Steve struggled. “Well then, do what you must and be quick! You’re torturing me, you jerk!”

“Whatever you say, punk.”

Blue lights exploded around him. The tentacles that was holding Steve down relented. With surprising speed and fluidity for a creature that filled up half the apartment, Bucky flipped him around, face down. Fingers ran through Steve’s short hair from his neck and along his scalp. They closed into a fist where his hair was longest. Bucky pulled his head back. Steve propped himself off the ground instinctively to lessen the pull on the roots of his hair. His shield was pushed pushed under him. It was covered in alien jizz--sticky, sparkly, and glowing slightly. He saw the shadow of his reflection and the glowing ring of Bucky’s eyes looking back at him from the debauched surface.

Bucky pecked him quickly on one cheek and whispered in his hair. "Look at you, all needy. Too bad you never dream about these hands. They have a few good tricks of their own. It’s okay, I know exactly what you want. You dream so loudly.”

Steve whimpered. “You knew…”

“Every little detail down to the eggs. I'm afraid I can’t make that happen, though. We don't breed like that.” Bucky chuckled. “You sure have an imaginative mind, Steve.”

Steve didn't have the brainpower to be embarrassed about having his wet dreams eavesdropped on. Tentacles were teasing Steve's entrance, the less than enough pressure made his frustration worse. He used all his might to bump the alien on top of him with his behind. “What happened to being quick, Buck. You talk too much!”

Obediently, one slippery tentacle pushed into Steve without much resistance. Sure it was mostly the alien lube--or whatever you should call it--that did the trick, but those numerous morning preps Steve did by himself in the shower must have helped. At least he was thankful he learned to clean himself properly a long time ago. He groaned and tried to push back onto the tentacle.

“Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir.” Bucky joked.

Steve bumped him in what he hope was Bucky’s groin again.

Bucky caged him in with one arm for support on one side, and several tentacles on the other. He pinned Steve’s hands to the floor with tentacles that sprouted hands with webbed fingers and long, glowing dragon claws. The claws digged into the floor, trapping Steve’s hand under warm and soft palms. More tentacles wrapped around Steve’s balls and testicles, providing the exact pressure he had been dreaming about every night. Except, the real thing felt far better than anything he ever dreamed up. The touch was solid, relentless, yet gentle and careful at the same time.


Steve’s plead was soft and undemanding, but the fist in his hair tightened.

“You are a very greedy human--”

That ticked him off. “I’ve waited too long for this!” Steve retorted unapologetically.

“--and you talk too much. I’ll give you something to do.”

Tiny tentacles crawled along both sides of his face from behind and hooked themselves over his lips, holding his mouth open like a dental gag. The suckers on their undersides prevented any slipping. They pushed and pulled him forward, forcing him to look down at his shield. In the fuzzy reflection of the drying alien come, he saw the shadows of his debauched face and the various lights that surrounds him, holding him right where they wanted to be. Saliva dripped from his open mouth. He couldn’t do anything to stop it.

As if taking pity on him, Bucky pulled his head up with the fist still holding him fast. He was facing the innocent wall of his apartment once again. One tentacle rose up into view and faced him like a rattlesnake, showing off it’s textured ridges and tongue-like tip. Dotted lights lined both sides of the tentacle. It rotated around once to show his human every angle of its exotic appearance. And then, very slowly, it puffed up soft, feather-like spines--one row at each quarter of its perimeter. Now Steve knows exactly what he was getting into. Or rather, what was going to getting into him.

He managed a needy whine in his throat.

The tentacle traced Steve’s lips and entered, ever so slowly. Steve met it with his tongue. Like flipping a switch, the contact turned the tentacles aggressive. It fought Steve’s tongue for dominance, very quickly pushing it down, while the rest of it arched and the spines brushed the insides of Steve’s mouth. It learned of the shape of all Steve’s teeth before moving further and slithered down his throat. It tested the depth with such Steve can handle without gagging. Add data acquired, it ramped up a steady pumping, dragging its underside over Steve's tongue while it pulled out just enough so the tip cleared vocal chord and saved in once more.

Bucky was considerate enough to leave just enough airway for Steve to breath without difficulty. Even so, the stretch made him tear up.

Meanwhile, behind him, two tentacles had made good work opening him up. Liquid dripped down his thighs and made it slippery where his knees braced against the hard floorboards. Steve tried closing his legs a bit to gain more leverage but found that he couldn’t. Bucky was keeping his legs spread with thick, powerful tentacles. A solid, blunt tip probed Steve’s hole, but went no further.

“Ready?” Bucky finally asked. “Oh, I forgot, you can’t speak now.”

Steve would’ve kicked him if he could move.

At long last, what Steve have been waiting for slipped home. His groans around the tentacle in his throat was echoed by Bucky’s raspy gasp. Holding himself up with only tentacles now, Bucky reached under Steve and milked his dick with his hand, his figures alternating the pressure on from base to tip, again and again in rhythm with his thrusts. Wet sounds of pistoned fluids and the sound of skin on skin echoed in the small apartment. Steve could feel each push stretching him, stimulating every nerve endings on his insides.

His orgasm hit without warning. Steve’s hands pushed against the palm that held him down. His body arched and pressed into Bucky’s sweaty chest, and his feet trembled and would have given out had the tentacles not held on. His throat tightened on the tentacle that still had not pull out, making him choke. He could feel the contraction in his balls. It was as if it’d never end.

Bucky’s thrusts didn’t break rhythm. The fingers continued to kneed him, massaging every last drop of his ecstasy out of him.

Steve was out of breath when Bucky leaned in and hugged their body close together. He explained in a gentle voice, as if to a child, “I’m afraid this one in you won’t be able to fill you up tonight Stevie--”

In his tired state after the orgasm, Steve still managed to protest with a goran.

But the alien wasn’t finished. “Think you can drink for me tonight?”

And that was the only warning he got before sweet, nectar-like come shot down his throat. The tentacle pulled out enough to get the liquid on his tongue. There was a hint of bitterness and spice that made the sweetness addicting. Steve drank it all down hungrily. The pressure in his groin subsided.

The last thing he was aware of was the weight of Bucky on him, and the soft, musical call of “My Steve. My human.” before he passed out from bliss.


He woke to the buzz of his cell phone on the bedside table. Bucky must have tucked him in bed after their barbaric love-making on the floor. Steve smiled at the memory despite the annoying sound near his head.

He didn't notice the enormous weight on him until he tried to move. Half of Bucky's body mass was on top of him. The tentacles sprawled over Steve. The upper half of the alien was curled up on the tiny, unoccupied space next to him, barely keeping from falling off.

Oh, so Bucky’s tucked himself into bed as well.

Steve tried shifting to give him more space. Several tentacles crept up and wrapped around Steve's arm, asking him to stay put.

Like an idiot, discovering sweet company in bed was making him hard again. Quickly he focused on the blaring rattle of the phone and the task at hand. Blindly, he felt around for it and picked up the call.

“Hello? Steve Rogers speaking.”

He set up straight. Tentacles slid off him with the comforter. Beside him, Bucky protested sleepily. Several tentacles crawled around Steve’s lower body to try and drag him back under. Steve cocked his head to hold the phone between his face and shoulder. He pushed the tentacles crawling up his chest back onto his lap with both hands.

“I’ll see what I can do, Secretary Pierce.”

Chapter Text

Battle Armor

“This is a matter of great delicacy to the US government, Captain. I’m afraid I can’t show this to you unless you agree to help. Believe me, I don’t like this either, but if you don’t take the job, a lot of people is going to get hurt.” Director Nick Fury kept his hand firmly on the documents, waiting for Steve’s answer.

Steve ignored the unspoken request. “An emergency the government wants keep the UN from knowing doesn’t exactly sound legal, Fury.”

Fury’s expression remained neutral. It was too bad the Avengers were tied up by the Sokovia accords. The Secretary of Defence, Alexander Pierce, has specifically instructed that the matter should be kept as quiet as possible. Steve Rogers was the only individual with the right skills that that still operates unsupervised by higher ups. Unfortunately, dealing with Captain America and his perfect morals can be tough. For Fury, that translates to "constantly wants to bang his head on the wall”. He knew Steve won’t accept the job without knowing what it was first. Baiting him with the serious consequences should he turn it down didn’t help matters. If he continues to refuse to show him the files, the captain will just walk away and take it upon himself to find out what the matter was. And there will be no one to stop him. At least it didn't hurt to try.

“It is a delicate matter, as I’m sure Secretary Pierce would have mentioned.”

“He did.” The Captain was still unimpressed. “Forgive me, Director, but I cannot make promises before knowing what I’m agreeing to first.”

Fury sighed and pushed to documents across the table. It didn't hurt to try, but it sure increased the frustration level.

“Our labs in Arizona was broken into last night. The intruders made off with several crates of chemical specimens. Nothing else was touched.”

“They knew what they were looking for.”

“Government-funded research are pretty much free for the taking.” Fury scorned. “You’d think the DoD would know better than to hire riffraffs they knew next to nothing about.”

Steve leafed through the documents, examining photos and documentations of the lost research, along with stills from the surveillance camera. The photos showed liquid poisons of various colors and textures. However, according to the records, the toxicity wasn’t what made them so deadly that the Secretary wanted to keep it quiet. It was the range of destruction. The components in the substance will initiate nuclear fission upon contact with air. The elements are much lighter than uranium, and the number of emitted neutrons won’t sustain a chain reaction for long, therefore the blast radius is expected to be much smaller. But the horrors will come after. The product of such reaction, in addition to the typical radioactive residue, it sustains its toxicity and lingers in water and air, and can cause corrosive effects to most known substances to man. There will be no disaster relief if these substances were ever used. And now they are stolen by people who knew precisely what they want it for. Steve didn’t have to make too much guesses to know their intent.

“So S.H.I.E.L.D. is developing WMDs for the state unbeknownst to other world governments.” He sounded more impassive by the minute. “Presumably because they knew it wouldn’t be approved otherwise.”

“You know the argument as well as any of us, Captain. The threat of overwhelming destruction will deter states from waging war.”

“Threatening violence is not the solution to peace. And now these weapons has fallen into the wrong hands.”

Fury hates it when he knows the Captain is right. He felt like a child being scolded by his parent--a fucking perfect parent. He groaned internally. “That is precisely why it is so important to guarantee success on this mission.”

“And S.T.R.I.K.E. is not enough?”

“The cargo in question is delicate.”

“So the files say.”

“I need someone who can handle matters without a gun. Take the job, Captain. Keep it discreet and don’t break the crates.”


“It’s real good to see you back, Cap!” Rumlow clapped Steve on the shoulder when S.T.R.I.K.E. met at the helipad. The quinjet was already fired up and waiting. Everyone else were busy making a last supply check.

“Life is so much harder without your help. I guess now’s the time to apologize for all the times I've taken you for granted?”

Steve smiled. “You give me too much credit.”

Yes. It felt good to be in proper action again. The only thing that was different this time, was the little hollow in his heart reminding him there was someone waiting for him to get home soon. He wondered where Bucky was. He worried for the alien even though he had assured him that there is a place he can go, and he knows how to take care of himself.

“I’ll know when you’re back in New York.”

“I’ll miss you, buddy.” Steve hugged him hard, and soon found himself entangled in tentacles. He wanted to stay there forever.

But eventually, Bucky pulled away. He looked at Steve hard.”Sure you don’t need me to watch your back?”

Steve shook his head. “What I do is dangerous. I won’t want you to get caught in the crossfire now, would I? The shield will keep me safe.”

Bucky smiled lovingly and knowingly at the mention of the shield. Steve blushed.

“You’re a man who can take care of himself.” The alien hugged him. “Thing is, you don’t have to do it on your own.”

Just like what James used to say to him--

“--He’s a man who can take care of himself.” A gruff voice interrupted his thoughts.

Steve blinked. Realizing the others are talking about him.

Rumlow gave him a thumbs up. “Right, Cap?”

“An army needs more than one soldier.” He replied and returned the smile.

One by one, they boarded the jet. Steve unclasped the shield from his back and set it between his legs. The cool metal reminded him of Bucky once again. Soon. He’ll be back home soon.

“Woah Cap, you’ve been taking good care of your shield!”

That was McKay, the life in a team of serious soldiers. He is as good at setting up a bomb as he is at defusing them. Good at following orders until it comes to keeping his mouth shut.

“I swear it’s almost going to glow in the dark.”

Steve dropped his head and blushed.


Location: Somewhere in the outskirts of Puebla, Mexico

“Boss, we got visual.” The guy behind a pillar of a rundown storefront turned away from the scene and spoke quietly into his mic. The broken glass of store rattled as three dust-covered trucks rolled by, several heavily armed men on motorbikes trailed behind, on high alert for potential attackers. “We got six bikes. Armed security on trucks as well.”

“How many?” came the static-distorted reply.

“Two each. Maybe more.”

“Good job, Bradley. We’ll take it from here.”


Bradley counted out five SHIELD-issued EMP buttons on his gloved hand. The Captain’s instructions were “strictly no explosives”. These EMP buttons will generate enough electromagnetic pulse to cripple the AKs their enemies were carrying--one for each cyclist. And yes, he can count. Steve Rogers would be taking out the first of the cyclists. Bradley was counting on it.

He waited.

The last of the wheeled party passed by. The rumbling of the motors slowly died down...

Suddenly, the dull clang of metal on metal rang across the desolated dust road! Semi-automatic gunshots erupted. That was the cue he was waiting for. Bradley sprang into action, jumping over broken floorboards and fallen debris. He ran to the scene of action, coming up behind the unsuspected targets. They were all too busy shouting at the giant red, white, and blue painted target. Two of the rifles died before their owner even registered what happened. Three to go.

Bullets exploded around his feet. He jumped out of the way, threw one of the buttons at the source and ran for cover. He managed to disable one more rifle before ducking behind another broken down building. There he found Morris, S.T.R.I.K.E.’s best marksman, with his back pressed against the wall, reloading a handgun.

“What happened to the rifle?”

“Well, I needed one hand free.”

“So you can hide here and jerk-off to the sound of guns?”

“My love-affair with firearms is none of your business.”

“Right, sorry.”

Bradley twiddled the last of the EMP buttons between his fingers. He peeked at the battlefield. The gunman was nearly in range. He pulled his head back to wait for the guy to get close enough. Morris was frowning at his hand.

“How many guys have you dropped?”

“Four. Why?”

“Don’t tell me that’s the last one. I thought you reported six bikers.”

“Well, I only needed five. Or are you telling me Cap didn’t take out one for me.”

Morris shrugged. “Typical of you to bring no more than what you think you need. You got no love for them at all.”

“So did he or did he not take out a guy?”

Morries rolled his eye. “He did. But you should really not count on the guy all the time. Super Soldier serums can only do so much, you know.”

“Rumlow would disagree.”

“Fuck Rumlow. Hey, I think you should take out your guy soon or he’s going to get away.”

Bradley peered over the wall in time to see his target backing into throwing range. He took out the weapon with the last button. Let the others knock him out.

The guy dropped to the ground, dead.

Yeah. Or killed by bloodthirsty Morris.

Outside, the rest of the team was busy with the trucks and their armed escorts. Wheels on the lead truck was busted, mooring it diagonally across the road, blocking passage of the rest of the party. The driver was slumped over the wheel, most likely dead. Below him, Rumlow was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with one of the escorts, having no time to pull out his gun. Besides Morris, three other S.T.R.I.K.E. hitman kept an eye on any opening for a shot of the enemy that was using their allies as cover in combat. Like a ghost among them all, Cap took out enemies quietly with a throw and few bounces of his shield. The fight will soon be over.

Or so they thought.

It happened when Rumlow caught his guy by the arm. A fast and powerful twist awarded him with a satisfying crack and a pained scream. With a grunt, he drove his elbow into the exposed neck and broke the windpipe. A shadow rushed by in the corner of his vision.

Rumlow whipped around to face the newcomer, but before he could take a good look, he was knocked backwards by a powerful blow to the stomach. He landed heavily on his back. Rocks digged into his elbows but he hardly felt any of it with the adrenalin pumping through his bloodstream. Bracing his back on the ground, he lashed out at the shadow near his legs, hoping to get a chance to get off the ground.

He would have succeeded and caught the guy in the groin with his heel if only it was a guy at his feet. Instead, his feet hit nothing but empty air, and the next thing he knew, a tentacle had wrapped itself around his leg with bone-crushing strength, dragging him brutally across the street. It was all Rumlow could do to try and keep the back of his head from getting scraped bloody by jagged stones.

Somewhere near him, gunshots erupted. The monster turned and and shielded itself with its armor. Bullets hit their mark but bounced off, clanking on the ground harmlessly. The STRIKE gunmen were trying to help their leader out from a safe distance. No one came near.

Rumlow shifted his weight and threw himself sideways. It hurt his arm, but he was at least able to pull his concealed dagger from the boot on his free feet. He slashed at the tentacles with the dagger, it seemed to do nothing more than a paper cut to the monster. And now the tentacles had shifted from black to angry red, and the grip tightened. Rumlow’s leg protested painfully and pitifully. Ignoring the pain, he tried once more to cut at something--anything--of the monster that was coming at him.

It was no good. Soon his knife arm was also bound; his neck locked in a choke hold. He managed to slide his arm above the choking tentacle and slammed down on it with all his might. It must have surprised his attacker, and the tentacle at his throat let go of him.

Rumlow finally getting a good look at the monster. The sight stricken him with unreasonable fear. He wished he hadn’t lay eyes on it. It looked like a man in battle armor from the waist up, but that was where the resemblance to humanity ended. From the waist down, the monster had black tentacles that looked like it belonged to a kraken from hell. Red glows emitted from lines that ran down along the length of each tentacle. The monster was wearing some sort of outlandish mask, it seemed. The goggles grow red against the completely black outfit. The sound of its breathing was husky but unlabored, accompanied by the loud whirring of machinery whenever it shifted position. Its body was covered in a complicated armor, blocking off any bullets that landed on him. Only one of the arms wore arm guards. The other, the left arm, was exposed. A strange red star shimmers and blends with the dark skin around it. Rumlow was slightly relieved to note that that arm bleeds. Dark bluish liquid oozed out of wounds where Rumlow’s gunmen hit the mark.

At least he bleeds...

That relief didn’t last long. Almost as soon as he noticed the blood trickling down the alien arm, he realized the monster didn’t slow down, nor did it show any sign of registering pain. Instead, it reached into its armor and produced several weird-looking throwing knifes, all black with red licking at the edges like flames. Rumlow forced himself not to close his eyes in fear. But the knifes were not meant for him. With a whip of its arms, they went flying in the directions of the gunmen.

Taking advantage of the moment of distraction, Rumlow pulled himself up close and drove his dagger into the unprotected flesh of his enemy. It sliced through the skin and hit something solid.

The blade broke at the helt.

Stupid! Should’ve known there was a reason that arm doesn’t have armor!

But it was too late to lament his error. The cut had enraged the monster. It swang and hauled Rumlow into the concrete wall of a nearby building, and charged after him like an angry bull. To Rumlow’s dazed perception, it seemed to grow in size, becoming more terrible and more massive, blocking out the sun. The monster from hell had came out of the underworld to engorge in human flesh, starting with the STRIKE team leader in front of it… This time, Romlow did close his eyes and awaited his death.

Clunk. CLANK .

The monster reeled back. Sunlight flooded onto Rumlow, burning his vision. Through the crack of his eyes, he managed to see the iconic shield bounded back into the gloved hand of Captain America. Exactly like the icon he was, he stood tall and proud against the bright sky, a figure of hope to those in need. Rumlow dropped to his knees and let tears of relief run down his cheek.

Steve walked to him and offered his hand. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks Cap.”

He blinked the tears away, angry at himself for showing a sign of weakness. But Rogers wasn’t really paying attention to him. He was looking that the distance, presumably where the black monster had disappeared to, and was frowning.

“It didn’t even put up a fight.” Rumlow stated, trying to brush off the embarrassment that was creeping up on him now that the thrill of the fight was over. He was crying like a baby for Captain America, for God’s sake! “Fancy that. Your name must have traveled far and wide into the monster realm.”

The Captain turned to him. Rumlow held his ground as the patriotic blue eyes watched him thoughtfully.

“Yes. It is strange.” the captain replied simply. And went off to check on the rest of the team.

They all servived, some with more serious injuries, but nothing life-threatening. Steve ordered inspection on the cargos.

They were in for a surprise.


Location: Somewhere in the outskirts of Puebla, Mexico, heading south by southeast

Steve was isolated himself on the way back to camp. He had sitted himself in the cargo container with the WMDs. Staying away from the rest of the group wasn’t hard after that. Most were reluctant to go as near as driving the vehicle with these crazy dangerous cargos, let along be in the same enclosed space--on a bumpy ride.

Distressed animal noises emerged from the clothed-covered crates around him whenever they rolled over a particularly deep crack on the ill-maintained road.

They were one of the reasons Steve had to be there. He needed to think.

Nowhere in the report Nick Fury gave him did it mention the WMDs were, in fact, alive. It was heavily implied that they were chemical weapons. It reported massive detonation radius, water contamination, and surprisingly low payload mass for the destruction power each unit contains. The photos show test tubes of diluted green liquid and controlled detonation aftermaths… Nothing about dog-sized, purple-haired creatures that looked like offsprings of a hellhound and giant tarantula. The first guy to flip open a lid of one of the crates had jumped back in shock and disgust. An unearthly set of teeth was just short of tearing his fingers off. The creature pressed itself up against the metal net of its cage, screaming and spitting out sickeningly green fluid.

Steve hates being lied to. Unfortunately, this has happened far too often. He glared holes at the back door of the cargo container. He needed to have a word with Fury, and maybe even Director Pierce. What is America planning to do with these alien-looking creatures anyways? How did SHIELD got hold of them? Where do they came from? If the reports were true, these creatures are most likely best returned to their home planet.

They drove over a nasty bump. A sharp, demonic shriek echoed around the small enclosure. Steve cringed.

What if they weren’t aliens, but man-produced monsters… What then?

And then, there is the question of the mysterious monster-warrior. Who was he? Assuming it was a he. What does he want? He was clearly easily overpowering Rumlow and no doubt the rest of STRIKE had Steve not showed up. But it was weird for him to just bolt at the sight of the shield. He left the throwing knifes, which were all accurately aimed at skimming the wrist of the shooters and no more. He wasn’t here to hurt or kill. No doubt that he was there for the cargo, but why?

And those tentacles… Steve couldn’t help but replace the red with blue in his mind, and try to picture what his out-worldly friend would look like in the battle armor.


Location: 18.92, -98.06

He was still quiet in camp, mapping out his next course of action. Turning in early just to lie in his personal tent and stair at the ceiling. He was never so thankful of the perks of out ranking everyone around him. Rumlow was the only one that disturbed his musings. He called out to him respectfully before coming in, one hand slicking his close-cropped hair back.

“Cap? The men are complaining about the animals. They seemed restless. The noises they’re making is getting on everyone’s nerves.”

“Set up a nightwatch if you want. Make sure no one touches them. I’ll try to get hold of someone who knows what’s going on.”

But he made no calls when Rumlow left. He was still thinking about the creatures’ many eyes, each one a glowing blue marble, when his mind was filled with images of blue stars and tentacles decorated by rows of blinking blue lights. He turned around to find exactly who he expected.

Bucky stood before him, his tentacles spread out under him on all sides, squirming nervously. But Steve had never seen him like he was then. He was wearing some sort of black armor, it protected all his upper torso but the left arm. The unprotected arm showed old cuts and bullet wounds, but none of which seemed to bother the alien. His skin tone was black. His markings were still blue, but no longer shining like christmas lights.  

“Bucky? What are you doing here?”

At the sound of his voice, ripples of electric blue blinked along the alien’s limbs. Bucky gave him a weak smile.

“I didn’t expect to run into you either.”

Steve looked down at Bucky’s wounded arm, his brows furrowing with concern. His suspension that morning has been confirmed. “It was you fighting this morning.”

The fidgeting tentacles stopped all at once, tensing as if ready to bolt. Steve resisted the urge to step forward. Bucky was nervous. It was best not to give him any reason to think that he was being threatened.

Steve raised his hands slowly, “I’m sorry I threw the shield at you Buck.”

Bucky shrugged. “I was attacking your friend.”

“They're all fine. I’m more sorry that they hurt you.” Steve apologized again, recalling the events earlier. He gestured at the alien’s arm. “Can I take a look at that?”

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t worry. They didn’t hurt me. Not with those toys they had in their hands.”

But he moved forward and let Steve take his arm for a closer look, probably as an attempt to soothe his human’s worries. Contrary to Bucky’s intentions, however, a detailed inspection of the arm only increased Steve’s concern exponentially.

The state of the arm looked frightful to Steve. Some cuts appeared to have healed. Steve would have guessed they’re several weeks old if he hadn’t ran his fingers down the exact same spot only nights before. Other wounds were more serious, the deepest cut had exposed the bone. Although no blood was flowing, that certainly didn’t count as “not hurt” in Steve’s book. The bullet wounds were extremely ill-treated. Most of the metal were still lodged inside, some were already healed over.

“Bucky, this--This is not okay.”

The alien tried to pull away, but Steve tightened his hold.

“Stay here. I need to clean the bullets out.”

Bucky did as he was told when Steve got up to get the first aid kit. Although he started explaining rapidly about the workings of his arm, trying frantically to soothe Steve’s troubled mind once again.

“That’s not bone under here, you know Steve? It’s a biohybrid shell. It generates this skin. We took out the nociceptors. There’s no need for pain when nothing you do to it would be fatal. I don’t feel a thing. Really, Steve. I was going to dig the metal balls out myself. You don’t have to do that.”

Steve was applying alcohol and topical anesthetic onto the bullet wounds. He wished he had lidocaine injections, but this would have to do.

Bucky tried to pull away again. “Steve, I don’t feel pain there. If you want to dig the metal balls out, you can just do it.”

“They’re called bullets, Buck.”

“Whatever. Just… don’t bother with the liquids, whatever they are. I don’t like it. It makes my skin cold.”

Steve sighed. After making double and triple sure that Bucky really can’t feel pain, he started methodologically cutting open the wounds and taking the bullets out, dropping them one by one into a tray next to him.

Changing the subject, he started asking Bucky the burning question on his mind that was almost completely forgotten when Bucky showed up.

“Buck, do you know what those trucks were carrying?”



Bucky seemed agitated that Steve appeared clueless about the situation he was in. “They are Elurians. From Elurysis. They’re merchants that got lost and stranded here. Unfortunately for them, humans contact will cause them violent allergic reaction. And I’m not talking about rashes or respiratory difficulties. They will release explosive and highly toxic chemicals. They die, you die. So others of their kind can stay safe. Except… There are not much more of them left.”

“My god.”

“I need to get them out quick Steve. Will you help me?”

This was a side of Bucky that Steve had never seen. He was in charge and sure of himself. He was a warrior on a mission. Steve wondered why he ever saw it before. Bucky is just like James. They fight with deadly accuracy for the things they believe in, and they disarm you with their big eyes and charming smiles, There was a fierce fighter beneath the loving angel that looked curious and innocent in a human living space. And he was asking for Steve’s help.

Steve would have hesitated if he wasn’t furious with Nick Fury lying to him. Again. But even if he did, a quick analysis of the situation would have gotten him to the same conclusion. Steve had dealt with alien affairs before, and in his experience, they know best. Human didn’t even know they existed a decade ago, let alone knew anything about their dealings, cultures, and intent. And by the sound of it, if someone’s getting the Elurians off of Earth to prevent mass chemical poisoning, he’s in.

“What do you need, Buck?”


Bucky instructed Steve to first get everyone away from the trucks. They were lucky there wasn’t any accidental contacts--at least everyone’s instinct was correct about staying as far away from the creatures as possible. When all was clear, Bucky slipped into the trucks and “spoke” to the Elurians. (He later explained it was more of a telepathic exchange of emotions.) That calmed them down considerably, and finally everyone can go to sleep in peace. There wasn’t much more Steve and Bucky could do that night. There is a time window for Bucky’s form of space travel, which Bucky explained but Steve was still having trouble grasping the concept. They will have to wait for tomorrow.

Back in Steve’s tent, the two were bent over a map--just like Steve used to do with James back in the war. The alien looked almost human with all the lights of his markings dimmed. Pushing the thought out of his mind, Steve focused on what Bucky was telling him.

“--over here. This will give me the most time to get the ship ready and send them on their way. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay away for this one, keep the others away for me. I don’t want you getting hurt. The Elurians are good people. It is unfortunate that they left their planet only to find out their fragility against the many things outside of their simple world. So many of them died unnecessary deaths, others were used, just as they were by the bad humans. It is strange, is it not? They meant no harm, yet they are feared and used for destruction. Instead, they deserve so much better. They shouldn't be feared."

Unlike me… Bucky thought, but kept it to himself. Steve already knew what he’s like fighting, there is no need for him to know just how deadly he is. No need for him to know about the things he used to do.

I don’t do that anymore... he reminded himself, hoping to gain a little consolation. None came.

Something must have shown in his expression, or Steve was just that connected to him. The human touched his arm, soothing his troubled thoughts. It must be the come, Bucky decided. They did have quite a few intimate chances for the emotional link to be established. Bucky smiled to himself a little at that. He really should tell Steve about that--That some of the fluids his lover had been drinking wasn’t for reproduction only… He let a tentacle wrap around Steve’s waist, drawing the human closer.

The contact recharged the air with lust and desire for each other.

Steve turned in the tentacle’s embrace and touched Bucky’s face. "They’re just like you."

The alien frowned at that, but Steve's touch felt good, so he didn't protest. Instead, more tentacles reached up, some turning bluer and started to glow. They wound their way up Steve’s torso, arms, and legs, wrapping him into a ball of twitching tentacles.

Steve was thrilled to find that Bucky lifted him easily. The alien took him to the bed and set him down. Some of the tentacles slithered away while Bucky climbed on top to look down at his human. The edge of his eyes glowed blue.

"You are wrong. I am a creature to be feared," he said. "But you, my human, you won't ever have to fear me."

He leaned down to kiss Steve. He met no resistance, and so much more forcefully than he ever did before, Bucky claimed everything he desired. He explored the shape of Steve’s teeth, the way his tongue greedily tried to gain more contact with him, and he pulled on the human’s lips with his teeth when he came up for breath.

Steve’s fingers were busy tracing the exotic armor Bucky was still wearing. There were too many buckles and straps, and he couldn’t find the right one that would release his lover to his hungry touches. Bucky, noticing the distraction, pulled his hands away with his tentacles and pinned them down on the bed.

“Forget the armor, Steve. They don’t come off easy. Let me.” And he let Steve watch with fascination as he reached down with one hand to remove a piece of metal guard of some sort between two tentacles. The penis-tipped tentacle extended gracefully out of the smooth skin beneath the metal guard. Blue illuminance lighted up at the tip, and rapidly spread towards the alien’s body and down all the other tentacles, turning the last of the black skin from to the familiar ocean blue. Bucky was turned on.

“Combat, my human, is the only time the genitals should be kept away and safe. We do not hide them as if it is a shame to show the life-bringing organs.”

Steve blushed, suddenly feeling overheated everywhere. He would never get used to how open and straightforward Bucky is with these things.

Bucky ran his fingers through Steve’s hair. That was when Steve saw the various cuts and remembered that they were still in the camp, and that not long ago, his man were shooting at his lover. He kissed Bucky’s palm when the alien pulled his hand away.

“I’m sorry for what they did to you this morning.”

Bucky frowned and looked at his arm. He shook his head. "Like I said, your men cannot touch me."

And it was Steve's turn to frown, the way Bucky is so easy going with having his arms shot into swiss cheese was unsettling. He wanted to say something more, but a tentacle pressed down on his lips, its suckers holding on to his face firmly.

Bucky kissed his forehead and laughed. "Stop worrying, I want to undress you."

The tentacle released his face to tug at Steve’s uniform. Impatient little tentacles slithered in from beneath the shirt while the big one tried to pull it over his head. They teased him with touches and pulls on his nipples.

He was already moaning without shame, but when he felt a tentacle forcing its way into his pants, already dripping wet with fluid, he gasped out loud. The loudness of it surprised even himself, and cleared his head of the crazy feeling of lust long enough for him to think straight and try to do the right thing.

"Buck wait--Maybe, we shouldn't."

His voice isn't convincing even to himself.

Tentacles unbuttoning his buckle and zipper stopped. So did the nipple-kissing tentacles. Bucky pushed himself away from where he was sucking and licking his neck with blossoming bruises and looked at him curiously.

"Why not?"

Steve’s body protested about the unceremonious time-out. He groan with frustration. Bucky took that as a cue to continue, and a tentacle wrapped itself around Steve’s hardening cock in his pants and squeezed mercilessly.

"P-people all around. They'll hear. They’ll--Oh, yes! I mean, no."

"Do you want me to stop?"


Tentacles pulled Steve’s legs up and finally removed the offensive boots and tights. Bucky shuffled in closer, using his shoulders to prop the legs up. He looked down smiled when he saw the precum beading at the head of Steve’s dick. He reached down, and with one finger, smeared it over with satisfaction. The dick pulsed eagerly in response. Steve’s hips jerked.

“You are so eager, Steve. Look at you.”

Steve barely suppressed a gasp at the touch. He breathed heard before answering.

“Bucky, If they found out--”

"You should stay quiet then."


Bucky smirked at that. “Then you need something better to do with that mouth.”

The tentacles finally coordinated and tugged the shirt off over Steve's head, flinging the red, white, and blue carelessly to the floor, leaving the human completely naked. A tentacle wound itself up Steve’s neck like a snake, cradled his jaws, and finally reached his cheek. It traced Steve’s lower lip. Automatically, Steve parted his lips and moaned. He couldn’t move his head, so he begged for it to get inside instead.

Having something to suck on was effective in keeping Steve busy and quiet. He was grateful for it. With all the alien liquid that was dripping down his legs and coating his lower body wet with slimey goo, he didn’t think he could not cry out over the sensation. The slime cooled rapidly while the newly produced liquid were warm. Add that to the temperature difference to the rhythmic sucking from the tentacles, and it was a delicious sensory torture.

The slime was not purely for fun either. The alien’s reproductive system, having sensed its owner’s hyper-stimulated desire, was preparing its mate for the most comfortable intrusion. It knew the intrusion was going to be rapid and numerous. The human was in for a ride.

Tentacles released Steve’s arms, slithering back downwards to part his legs wider. Immediately, Steve reached up and tug Bucky lower by the straps of his armor. Bucky kissed him on the cheek, keeping out of the way of the tentacle diving deep into his human’s throat.



That was all the confirmation Bucky needed. Steve tensed as two tentacles parted his hole and a third one dived in. It was widening him up almost too quickly. He felt his balls contracting. But orgasm did not come, for at that moment, they got choked off by the tentacles tightly wound around them. The tentacle around his penis also tightened.

“Not yet, my love. Not yet. You’re getting a load of my seed tonight before you can come.”

Steve had never heard Bucky so in command before this night. In fact, no one was ever so in command of him ever before, and he found he was delighted to let go, to let another call the shots like this. Even if it meant an achingly hard dick and very frustrated balls. He didn’t even realize Bucky really meant "many” loads of ejeclation. The alien meant to cover him in fluids--everywhere, inside and out, from top to bottom.

The first load came soon enough. Bucky had braced his hands on Steve’s shoulders and was pushing into him repeatedly. One of Steve’s arms were held down to the side by a tentacle. He was jerking off another tentacle with his free hand. It stiffened suddenly. Before Steve could turn away, and without Bucky losing a beat in his thrusting, light bluish liquid hit Steve’s face. The tentacle in his mouth pulled back and followed suit. Steve tasted the sweet liquid and was ready to pass out with bliss. The tentacles pulled away and Bucky slapped him lightly across the cheek to keep him awake.

“I’m not done yet, Steve. Nor are you. Stay with me.”

Steve swallowed, and tried to speak. His voice was raw. “Bucky.” was all he can manage.

Bucky held his jaw with the biohybrid hand, and he leaned down and kissed him brutally, his tongue mixing his own seman with Steve’s saliva.

Steve was still moaning and groaning when there was a call from outside the tent. It was Rumlow.

"Cap? Sorry to bother so late, but we got an issue."

Steve stiffened. Bucky frowned, but Steve put up a hand over his mouth to ask him to keep silent.

Steve knew he's going to sound horse before he even started to speak. His face was sore. He tried his best to sound normal. It was difficult with the number of tentacles currently filling him up.

"Rumlow? Take care of it if you can. If not, I'll come take a look at it later."

Let Rumlow imagine what he's doing in here, Steve thought. It can't possibly be more shocking than that's really going on.

Except Steve wasn’t prepared to get a shock himself after the deed. He took a considerable amount of time looking crossly at Bucky while the alien sit back and tried hard not to laugh out loud. Disheveled didn’t even begin to describe his state. He wanted to make Bucky clean up the mess he made. But it was impossible to be stern when you’re standing naked, dripping from glittery cum from head to toe. It was everywhere. On his uniform, on the bed sheets, in his hair… And he knew from experience that there was no way he could clean them away completely by the morning.

To Bucky’s credit, he handed him a wet towel without being asked.

Chapter Text

Bucky with flowers

Location: The outskirts of Krebs, Oklahoma

“So how do we do this?”

Steve looked around the empty field they were standing in. There was no spaceship in sight. He had expected to see one when Bucky said he was on the mission to take the Elurians somewhere safe. He couldn’t see how the truckload of aliens that were still back in the camp half a mile behind them can be moved here and send off to space unnoticed. They had made good progress driving through Mexico and Texas that day. In another day and they would have made it back to the S.H.I.E.L.D. lab in D.C.. The pair had to move now if they want to get the aliens out of there. They were unworried. STRIKE team Alpha was a confident group with Captain America back on board, and no hostiles were expected in any case.

Beside him, Bucky was dressed in his battle armor again, looking like a demonic force atop a sea of dark tentacles. He didn't put on his mask this time. Instead, he wore back face paint around his eyes, covering the light patches of marking there. He smiled and put a tentacle on Steve's shoulder, assuring him that everything is going as planned. Steve put his arm around the alien and turned to the alien with a smile.

To Steve's horror, Bucky had drawn a knife and was picking at his own arm. His face was emotionless, only concentrating on the task at hand.

Steve grabbed the alien’s wrist.

“Buck! Stop!”

Bucky looked at him and frowned, clearly not understanding what the humans concerns were about.

"I got to get the transport ready."

The matter-of-fact explanation surprised Steve enough that Bucky got to yank his knife hand out of Steve's grasp and was digging at the skin about an inch below the inside of his elbow again.

"Transport? No. No! Stop it!"

At Steve's desperate shout, the knife stilled. Quickly Steve grabbed hold of the hand again. The alien actually gave his lover an amused look. He gestured to his now bloody arm. A piece of flesh was peeled back, showing the metal underneath. Several blood vessels intertwined with what looked like cables. Together, they disappeared into the metallic bone.

"It's going to heal back soon. Let me finish it in one go or I'd have to do it all over again."

Steve frowned and held on.

"What? Why do you have to hurt yourself?"

Bucky tried to yank away again. This time, something in his desperate attitude made Steve let go. The human clenched his fist to keep himself from reaching out and stopping the knife from digging at bloody flesh again. He thought about blood occult blood rituals and his stomach churned. But the explanation Bucky gave him was far more outlandish than his wildest imaginations. The alien worked methodically as he talked.

"The chip can generate signals to create resonance in nearby particles, changing them into matter that we need. This one was designed for easy carry. It's in here, you see, so I wouldn't lose it. From there the signal is enough to create a ship for me. But all matter absorbs and dampen the signal. We need a lot more range for a ship big enough for you, me--”

“You mean you can make anything with that chip?”

“--and our merchants. And no, I can only make things if I have the blueprint. A complicated thing like the ship I want was designed and programed into the chip by highly capable engineers of our--well, engineers on my planet. Now, please let me take it out, Steve. And stop worrying. This arm doesn't feel pain."

Steve's frown deepened. He had to remind himself that the alien in front of him was much more than a cuddly, curious creature that was fantastically skilled in bed. Bucky was also an experienced soldier, as was evident after his performance at bringing Rumlow down the day before. Steve wondered where and when he got those experiences. The way he did what was needed to do without hesitation was chilling to observe. At that moment, he looked more like a war machine than living and breathing being.

Against all his instincts, Steve watched as Bucky pulled out cables and blood vessels. Thankfully the vessel ended in a plug-like device, otherwise Steve would have an heart attack just thinking of the amount of blood loss it would involve. Quickly, the alien pried open a metal flap with the knife, and with his fingernails, dogged up a thumbnail sized chip. He handed it to Steve with a smile, and turned to head back to camp when Steve took it.

Steve stopped him. His hand was firm on his lover's shoulder. His gaze flickered briefly down at Bucky's wounded arm before shifting back up for eye contact.

"You are not going anywhere until you let me patch that up."

Blue lights flickered on along the tentacles. The rippled around Bucky like a nervous child that wasn't sure where to put his hands. Obediently, he let Steve take his arm and wrapped it up with a clean piece of cloth. All the while, the tentacles inspected Steve with curiosity, as if trying to understand the human's thoughts. They stroked Steve's face and arm, never lingering in one place for long.

"Thank you," Bucky whispered softly when Steve finished. He sounded like he couldn't believe anyone could be so gentle and careful with him. The tentacles continued to look for their answers all over Steve.

For the second time that night, Steve wondered about Bucky’s past. But before he could ask, however, the alien snapped out of his dazed awe, and turned his mind to the task at hand once more.

"We'll be piloting the carrier, and they will be taking the spacecraft. This way we can prevent you from getting into contact with them. We'll pull them into Earth orbit, point them in true right direction, and give them the boost needed for warping. After that, they're on their own until they rendezvous with my friends at the destination. That'll leave us with enough energy for reentry. Ten minutes is sufficient."

Steve nodded. Their plan was simple, a quick sneak-in and sneak-out. Steve will make sure no one intrudes on Bucky while he gets the other aliens ready for their journey home. They will meet again at the clearing. Bucky gave no reason why he insisted on having the human along for the spaceship ride.

He gave Bucky one last pat on the shoulder and strolled back towards camp alone.


Back in camp, or was simple work for Steve. As per his advice, Rumlow had stationed the guards far enough from the trucks, much to the relief of the whole team. Rumlow himself, however, was never too far away. He is a careful man and a good soldier. If Steve had any regrets about betraying the mission objective in favor of what he was going to do now, it was letting the good man down.

Jack Rollins was with Rumlow, talking quietly, when Steve found them. They smiled and nodded respectfully at the captain, although Rollins was cradling much more nervous energy than his friend. He glanced back at the trucks from time to time anxiously, clearly uncomfortable to be in close proximity with their cargo.

“Evening gentleman.”


Steve had hoped he’d find Rumlow alone. He would only have to keep the guy turned away and talking for long enough and his job would be done. Now, he had to get Rollins back to the others first, and fast.

“It’s a quiet night to be away from the rest of the team off shift.”

Rollins hid it well, but the shift of unease in his shoulders didn’t escape Steve’s sharp eyes. Whatever that was about, however, Steve will let it go for tonight.

Rumlow nudged his friend. “Cap’s right, we got a long day ahead tomorrow. ‘Sides, you’re taking the watch at dawn. Get some rest.”

That was a bit easier than Steve had hoped. He turned to Rumlow.

“How are the wounds?”

In the dim light, angry red marks across Rumlow’s neck was still clearly visible, not to mention the bandage around his forehead keeping steady pressure on the wound on the back of his head where Bucky had dragged him across rough concrete.

Rumlow shrugged. “I’ve taken worse.”

“You should get some rest too.”

Steve hoped he wasn’t being too obvious. However, he soon found that his fears were unnecessary. They were an effective, trusting team. There was no reason for Rumlow to doubt that he had anything other than concern for his men’s well-being in mind. At the very suggestion of rest, Rumlow smiled gratefully, bid goodnight and went on his way towards the tents, oblivious to the silent thud of a truck door being lowered to the ground.


Everything went as planned. Except, Steve had misjudged the trust in Rumlow’s eyes.

Instead of getting the rest he claimed he wanted, the STRIKE leader had doubled back and headed carefully towards where the captain went, carefully keeping the super soldier just out of sight.

He soon found himself crouching behind bush and rock at the edge of a dusty clearing. The extraordinary events in front of him held him transfixed. A hoard of the monsters they found in the trucks were gathered around in the center of the clearing. Out of their confinements, they looked much bigger and hairier. Their eyes gleamed in the moonlight, like some hybrid between boar and spider. Rumlow shuddered, remembering the disgusting drip of saliva from their tongues and overlong tongues. His men were smart to keep their distance. If he wasn’t personally responsible of ensuring the safe delivery of the beasts, he’d get the hell out of there too. And look where that still got him! All of them still out there in the open, no doubt ready to get away. Fuck Steve Rogers! Fuck Captain America!

He shook himself out of his anger and kept on watching. Standing a distance away (Ha! So even the great Captain America is afraid of furry aliens!) was the tall and straight silhouette of the captain, as disgustingly righteous as ever. He was watching the circle of waiting monsters. In the center of which was the dark, shadow of a kraken. No--

Rumlow groaned. It was the terrible monster from his encounter with it the day before. He gulped down sticky fear. If he was thinking about intervening and confronting Cap about letting their cargo loose before, he hesitated to do so now. He knew better than to get in the way of a group of spider-boars, a murderous land kraken, and a legendary American icon on steroids.

While he was struggling with his fears, the kraken held out its arm straight out in front of him like a magician on stage. The air around them bent what little light there were around them. The ring of monsters became distorted and faded away as some kind of metal surfaces solidified around them. It materialized into a sort of tailless fighter jet of some sort. Where there should be glass windows for the cockpit, however, the panels were made of reflective metal. It then elongated and fashioned from behind it a cylindrical chamber with two separate chambers mounted on wings on either side. The winglet curved further than any human aircraft Rumlow’s ever seen or would think practical for flight. It had three engines: two under the wing and one dead center on top. It looked like there could be more behind, but there was no way to tell from Rumlow’s angle.

The thing powered up with only the dimmest shimmer of lights along the side. Blue neon lights traveled from the nose of the spaceship (for now Rumlow was sure it was a spaceship) to the tail. The engines lighted up with a silent cold glow. One has to marvel at the perfectly stealthy flight vehicle.

A door dropped down and became a ramp in the front section of the spaceship. Exactly as popularly depicted in movies, the kraken stroll out of it with majestic ease. (What’s with all this show? Or does one just automatically look cool walking out of spaceships like that?) The ramp closes as the monster stepped off and turned to meet Rogers who had finally approached now the spider-boars were safely inside.

They were very clearly on friendly terms. Rumlow couldn’t help the anger swell inside of him. Fucking Captain righteous America was supposed to be on his side, and he is friendly with this monster that almost killed his teammate?

What happened next had him gaping in disbelief. Not only was the two beings friendly. They fucking embraced and kissed! Kissed! What is this? His head hurt. This has got to be a joke. The American Icon has an xenophilia fetish? Where is a video camera when he needed one?

Ugh. He hates his job when weirdass things like this keeps happening.

Before he could properly process what he was seeing, the couple walks back to the spaceship, the kraken’s tentacle leading the human by the hand like lovers in a twisted fairytale. The went under the midsection chamber, where there must be a trapdoor. The monster jumped and pulled itself up with both arms and tentacles. Rogers followed suit by climbing up the ladders let down by the alien. The hatch closed and the engines fired up, still silent as ever.

The important cargo was getting away, but Brock Rumlow knew his own strength. Sometimes, a little patience goes a long way to change the outcome of a fight. He needed a well-informed team.

Besides, he decided a change of plans were in order. He went back to camp. His hands were still shaking as his pulled out his phone, but his voice was steady and serious once the personal line to Secretary Pierce got through.

"Sir. Forget the chems. We've got something better."


Location: Earth orbital, inclination 2.255 o , readying for orbit transfer

Steve was floating around the giant spaceship chamber alone, waiting for Bucky’s return. There wasn’t much that he could do except marveling at the exotic alien technology while he waited. He had to stay an airlock away from the Elurians, and he couldn’t communicate with them anyway. Bucky was the only one busy getting everything ready to send these aliens on their way.

He drifted idly from one end to the other. Occasionally amusing himself with various spins and flips made possible by the weightlessness. He had not had so much fun in a very long while--since 1939, to be exact--when he went to the New York World’s Fair on the double date with James... It was a lifetime ago. Time changes, things happen. Who would’ve imagined the crazy things that happened to him afterwards? He did a sloppy backflip and continued inspecting his environment.

The chamber was lit with soft blue glow from streaks that lined the walls from one end to the other. The space was cylindrical and covered completely with dials, controls, monitors, and handlebars but for one quarter of the wall. That part consisted of smooth windows with the views currently obscured by the metal shades from the outside. The window was a luxury for the otherwise purely practically designed spaceship, according to Bucky. Their kind loved the infinite universe too much to not see it for months on end during long flights. It is also designed to help manufacture a sense of day-to-day cycles. The blinds will open automatically for simulated nighttime. Steve had yet to see the view. They way Bucky talked about it with tentacles flying in all directions and colors dancing on his skin had peaked his curiosity and interest by ten folds.

He was still experimenting with controlling the force with which he pushed himself away from one wall to achieve the speed he wanted to travel across the room when tentacles sneaked up on either side of him from behind. They grabbed onto him and pulled him flush against Bucky’s solid armor. The alien kissed him on the back of the head.

“Having fun, my love?”

Steve smiled, glad of finally having company, and maneuvered himself clumsily in the tentacle embrace to face his lover.

“I thought you still have work to do?”

Before Bucky could answer, the lights around them flickered. There was a click of locks falling into place. A red light above the doorway behind him, from which he had entered the room lighted up.

“That’s the merchants leaving for their transfer orbit.” Bucky explained. The corner of his lips twisted upwards in a playful smile. “It’s just you and me now.”

Steve caught on immediately. So this is why Bucky want him here? To have fun? He smiled to himself in slight disbelief. He knew Bucky is fun-loving, but to use a mission to get them to be alone together is too out of sync with the alien that has an important mission of saving stranded merchants from accidentally blowing up a whole planet. Then again, he couldn't say he wasn’t fond of all this. He grinned back.

“What do you have in mind?”

Bucky pulled himself forward by the handle above his head. His biceps flexed, instantly attention-grabbing. In the weightlessness of space, the alien moved gracefully, even more so than he had been on Earth.

It was an incredible sight: All the strength and speed Bucky displayed back on the planet was but a fraction of what he really is in space. Steve only realized then that his lover was a creature born to soar in the great emptiness of space. He was utterly mesmerized as Bucky swung forward, balancing his motions effortlessly with the swinging of his many tentacles. He let go and used the momentum to guide him towards his beloved human. The two collided in mid-air. Immediately, tentacles sneaked up behind Steve to keep him from floating away. Steve gasped as they drifted as one towards the wall. Bucky took his hands and guided them towards his waist. His fingers closed around the leather straps of the alien’s armor, and he found comfort in the solidness in this foreign environment. He felt Bucky’s hand on the back of his head, pushing him forward with unyielding determination, closing the gap between them. Their lips met with surprising gentleness.

Unlike Bucky, Steve’s human body was still getting use to the weightlessness. While the tentacles held onto him and kept him from bumping unceremoniously into the spaceships controls and monitors, he let himself go, simply focusing on the incredible sensation of the loving touches and let the alien take control. Bucky kept the kiss chaste and gentle, enjoying the moment as they floated backwards. With a soft thud, Steve felt the tentacles cushioning him from the hard wall behind him. More tentacles reached behind him to protect his head. Realizing he had closed his eyes, Steve opened them to look at his lover.

Bucky dwell on the kiss a moment longer before pulling away, smiling fondly. “Space is very different, isn’t it?”


He was already feeling breathless in a way that had become unfamiliar since the he got used to the super solider serum. Instead of alarming him as it would back in the days, the feeling of variability was a welcome one. It made him feel like himself again, like the real Steve Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn. He closed his eyes for a second, and he thought about James. He wished he had said it then. If only James knew how he daydreamed about this. How often he had wanted to have him close like he has Bucky in his arms now. James was a charmer, not just for the ladies, but the fellas as well. He didn’t know that, and he never will. Steve wondered if James would’ve been disgusted with him if he knew. No. Not sweet James. He would be more concerned about how well Steve was keeping his secrets. He would be worried sick about Steve getting himself arrested. There was no way James, kind-hearted, James would be disgusted. Shocked, maybe, but not disgusted.

His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle tugging at his shirt.

"The hard part is undressing." The alien’s laugh was musical, more relaxed than Steve had ever heard him. "Luckily for us, I'm determined and got lots of capable tentacles."

Steve couldn't help smiling wide with him. "Well, hurry up buddy. What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing. I can't wait." Bucky breathed on his neck.

Before Steve even registered what happened, there was a clang as Steve’s belt hit the side wall where the alien had flung it, and Bucky had pushed himself away from the wall, taking Steve with him. The human had to fight the urge to protest. Microgravity wasn't his element, and he had to trust the alien to do what needed to be done. He felt himself drifting, and instinctively put his hand back to hold on to something. Instead of solid metal, he felt the solid muscles of a tentacle. He held on gratefully.

The alien, in the meantime, was rolling the red, white, and blue suit up over his abdomen with both hands while he himself to the wall they were fast approaching with powerful suckers. They were at the closed viewing window, and there were no handles to hold onto. He pulled himself in gracefully, re-orienting them against the new surface. He caged his human in with tentacles on either side and dropped to kiss the newly exposed skin, sucking on Steve’s abs hard before pushing away again. The tentacles strained to keep him from floating too far. He smiled down at Steve's panting form; taking pleasure in knowing the he was the reason the human was sprouting a full body blush. One of the tentacles balled up the corner of the shirt once more and pulled it upwards. The tentacle Steve was still clutching for dear life wiggled and tried to slither free, but the human held on tight.

"I'm tugging it over your head, Steve. Let go of the handle or I swear I'm going to rip your shirt to shreds if I get impatient."

Steve did as he was told. He carefully, he put up one hand. The moment his other hand loosened its grip, the tentacle he was holding on to wrapped itself around his wrist punishingly tightly and tugged his arm up above his head. The shirt was pulled clear of his head, but Bucky tightened his grip right after the bundle of cloth moved past his elbow, efficiently trapping his arms. He was floating freely, with nothing to hold on to but the tentacles around his arms. This was still going too slowly for his liking, and Steve decided to change that. He kicked away from the wall, and locked his legs around Bucky’s waist, surprising the alien for a moment.

But Bucky recovered from the surprise quickly and laughed. He let go of everything that he was holding on to, and together the two of them tumbled through the air. Tugging blindly behind him with his tentacles, he unlaced Steve's boots with a little difficulty and finally tugged the offensive clothing off. They drifted off and were lost from both their thoughts.

Their lips were locked together once more, this time in a messier, sloppier kiss. Bucky was going for the dominance when Steve got him one step ahead, the human’s tongue pushing past his lips hungrily. Gladly, the alien relaxed his jaw and take everything that was given to him.  They finally broke away from the kiss when they reached the other wall, breathing heavily to regain some oxygen.

The alien grabbed hold of Steve's ankles that were still locked against the small of his back.

“Let go Steve. You're not helping."

Steve grinned at him like a challenge.

"Make me." said the swollen lips.

So Bucky launched them from the wall with much more force than before, toppling them into a dizzying spin. The tentacles spread out when they were near the center of the room, effectively slowing their erratic motion. He pulled Steve’s locked ankles apart forcefully and pushed the human off of him, at the same time freeing the man from the confinement of his shirt. They went in opposite directions, and the alien made good use of the chance to start dropping his armor. He still didn’t think Steve with only two hands can handle the complexity of a battle ware designed by beings with numerous appendages that can change their functionality according to their every whim. Still tumbling with grace in a solo-waltz, his many tentacles busied themselves with the buckles and straps. Finally, the vest-like armor was carelessly left floating in the air. He was naked but for the strap across his chest that was used to hold his last line of weaponry--knives and daggers he rarely had to use but carefully kept in prime condition.

Across the room from him, Steve hooked onto a nook in the wall upside-down from Bucky’s perspective. He did a fine job keeping himself in place while unzipping his pants and pushing them off his legs.

Bucky was unhooking the last of his knife strap when he got ambushed from behind by Steve's flying form. The human bumped into him heavily, and climbed on with an arm around Bucky's neck. He buried his face in the alien's hair and kissed the back of his head.

Despite the element of surprise, Steve was still at the mercy of the alien’s inborn wrestling tactics. Tentacles crawled up Steve’s now naked legs. They slithered across his torso, relentless despite his efforts to squirm out of their grasp. Suction cups pulled away with tiny popping sounds whenever they released their grip, and left behind a trail of angry red marks in their wake. They reached up and forced the human's arms off from the inside, holding them with unyielding force.

They seemed to be in a locked-in of tentacles when Bucky tensed and maneuvered so that they flipped around together. The tentacles twisted and slithered in complicated motions. They ended up facing each other once more before Steve could figure out how the whole maneuver was done. The alien held Steve spread eagled by all fours in front of him and inspected the human critically, completely at ease with the momentum waltzing them through the room. Steve blushed and Bucky tutted.

"Steve, Steve. You're so eager for me you came back to me completely forgotten that you still have your undergarment on." One tentacle unsheathed the knife he was still wearing on his belt, and brushed it along Steve’s thighs. Steve shivered with anticipation, and Bucky inserted the knife carefully underneath. The cold metal felt dangerously close to the Steve's balls. He shivered, feeling himself getting hard and straining against the fabric.

Bucky kissed him along the jaw from chin to ear. He nibbled the earlobe before whispering in Steve's ear. "What did I say about making me impatient?"

Steve's eyes widened at the realization of what his lover had in mind, but it was too late. A ripping sound echoed in the giant chamber. Steve whined when the fabric tightened against his ass and external organ. He felt the knife sliding over his overheated skin, pressing down on his rapidly hardening dick threateningly. With another rip, it cut through the waistband.


They had reached the wall once more. Bucky landed on the hard surface and quickly twisted to get into open space and pinned Steve down against the wall.

Steve didn't even notice that the window is behind him once more until he's head and shoulders were shoved roughly against the cold glass. Bucky returned to kissing him, this time taking full control of the kiss. He allowed Steve one quick gasp of breath, before diving in again. As Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head, he got a glimpse of a colorful tentacle carefully putting the knife away.

This blissful moment didn't last long. Suddenly, Steve felt tentacles gripping his leg, several of them slipped under the ragged remains of his underwear. They pulled hard. The fabric bit into Steve's muscles for a moment before it was torn apart and thrown away.

Steve frowned and glared at Bucky in his best responsible parent face.

“That was very rude of you Bucky.” he chastised.

The alien grinned at him.

Steve would have said more, but the sight before him stopped him short.

Suddenly, Bucky’s markings brightened. But unlike any other time Steve had seen him, the flashing lights didn’t stop there. He skin seemed to have darkened, and tiny lights were flourishing across every inch of it. Most of them white with a hint of blue, others were various hues of pink and purple. Bright clouds of color also drifted into the scene. The alien is painting the universe on his skin.

“Look!” he said with delight. “The sun shield has retracted!”

Steve wouldn’t be able to turn away from his beautiful lover had the alien in question didn’t flip him around and pressed him front-first against the glass. His hardness touched the glass and he groaned. In the glass, he could clearly see the reflection of the glowing alien behind him, the colors still shifting and the stars sparkling. He glanced up and met Bucky’s eye in the mirror. The lights shimmered a second longer, illuminating Bucky’s encouraging smile, and went out.

Steve gasped. On one side of the window, Earth was gently turning, orange lights mapping out the vast humanity on the planet, occasionally obscured by streaks of gray clouds. The thin atmosphere crowned the planet like a green halo. But what held him transfixed, was the sea of stars beyond the blue planet. They were few and scattered near the brightness of the great planet. Only as his gaze drifted away towards the blackness of space did they began to shine through, the belt of stars dazzling and magnificent.

He felt Bucky’s chin resting on his shoulder. A happy sigh tickled his ear.

“This is my world Steve. I wanted to show you.” He kissed Steve just below the ear before continuing. “This is a part of me. I left a piece of my soul with the stars when I opened my eyes to this view as a hatchling.”

“So have I.”

“I know.”

Steve turned his head to catch the lips hovering near his face, and felt Bucky the movement of Bucky’s smile. Below, tentacles were stroking Steve’s back, behind, and legs. They were getting slippery with alien lubrication. Purposefully, he bumped his behind against the exploring tentacles. They got the hint, and started to get more serious with business, parting his cheeks and lubing him up properly. When the first tentacle finally ventured past the ring of muscles, both lovers sighed. Steve slumped against the glass, grinding against the cold surface in hopes of getting more friction.

He reached back to grasp at where Bucky’s buttock would’ve been but for the mass of tentacles. He desperately wanted to pull him closer. But instead of feeling the soft tentacles leading away from the alien’s body, he felt a jolt and realized the tentacle in question was turned back towards Bucky, and was grinding hard into an orifice.

Realization dawned on him.

"Buck? I could take care of that for you, you know?"

Immediately, all movement from the alien ceased. Bucky pushed himself away from the glass, giving Steve room to turn around. His lights darkened to a dull blue. He was nervous, watching the human carefully for signs of displeasure.

Steve thought back to all this time they were together, and wondered how there was still so much he didn’t know about his lover. He had always let the alien lead him confidently in bed, and all this time, he never thought that maybe Bucky has needs too. Now that the idea got into his head, suddenly it was the only thing he could think about: to have Bucky writhing and squirming beneath him, to feel the alien from the inside, to hear him moaning and begging for more… His dick twitched with interest.

It was too late to be embarrassed about his thoughts. Steve didn't even bother to hide it. Sure enough, Bucky picked up on the little twitch of interest between this lover's legs. The lights on the tentacles brightened, several pink lights replaced the blue ones. His confidence came back, and Bucky’s lips carved up.

“You want me.”

"Yes, so get over here and let me feel you."

Tentacles took hold of Steve's wrists as Bucky pulled himself back towards the window, embracing the human and landed him a crushing kiss. Steve's hands, guided by the tentacles, found the tight bundle of muscles already slippery from alien fluids. Circling the edge with his fingertips, he soon found that Bucky's anatomy was much more different than he had foolishly assumed. Just a short way within the soft rim if the hole, his fingers found hard shell-like structure. When he touched it, they pulled back and disappeared into the soft flesh and Bucky moaned.

“I promise I won't bite.” he sighed into Steve's ear.

It took a moment for Steve to realize that the alien was referring to the hard shells. He feel them extending outwards again slowly as the alien's body relaxes. Assured by Bucky's promise, he bravely slipped two fingers past the rim and inside.

The sensation was different from what Steve had expected. Something latched onto his fingers and he pulled back in surprise, a little too quickly than intended. But the alien only moaned louder. Getting used to the initial surprise, Steve ventured to try again, this time more carefully. Once again, something or somethings latched onto his fingers as soon as he pushed in. When he didn’t pull away, they pulled him in hungrily, tugging and massaging.

Tentacles... on the inside too?

Steve couldn’t think too much about it. At the thought of tentacles, all he could think of was how they would feel when they are actually on his dick.

But Steve was raised a gentleman and know better than to mindlessly shove his dick up anyplace he wishes. He wants to take this slowly, give Bucky a good fingering first. He set up a rhythmic motion, all the while keeping track of what makes Bucky tick. It seems to be mostly--well-- everything. He could hear ever pant, sighs, moans, and groans loud and clear with his chin resting on the alien’s shoulder. The tentacles holding them flush together also puts on more tension when something Steve did was particularly pleasurable.

Bucky reached back with his hands and squeezed Steve’s butt hard, pulling them closer together. Tentacles didn’t forget to keep the pleasure going either. They resumed their previous activity as soon as the human relaxed into the new position.

“Please Steve. I want to feel you inside me.”

Steve didn’t need telling twice. He pulled out his fingers. The internal tentacles held on with a little more reluctance before letting him go. Bucky’s groans were loud in his ears when he hugged the alien around the waist. Ever so carefully, he pushed in. What he had imagined it would feel like was nothing compared to the real thing. The sensation of being eagerly tugged in was overwhelming. He grunted into the back of Bucky’s neck. But the alien body wasn’t done with him yet. He felt the tentacles blindly groping around, feeling up his cock like they wanted to get to know every inch of it. He soon found that they were doing more than that. They were looking for an opening. More specifically, that opening in which it could get into. Steve’s arms slipped when one wiggled its way inside.

“Oh God. Bucky, give a man some--oh--warning next time.”

The alien responded Bucky pushing back against him and moaning.

“Sorry, I have no control over them.” He sighed and tensed when Steve pushed in deeper. “Oh yes yes, Steve! I hope--”

“Don’t you ask if this is okay. It’s more than okay!”

“It’s going to get more intense.” Bucky warned.

The alien said it as if anything could possibly scare Steve away. If there were one thing his stubborn personality couldn’t resist, it was a challenge. He didn’t even care what sort of intensity his lover meant.  

“Bring it on! I can do this all day! Oh God!” Steve couldn’t help snapping his hip forward. It was all too much yet still not enough.

As if hearing his thoughts, one more tentacle joined the first one that was pumping in and out of him in sync with his motions within Bucky. It provided enough burn that Steve was seeing stars and forgetting for a moment about the tentacle currently sounding him. The alien squeezed his butt once more with his hand and reached over to find his--up till now neglected-- balls. Steve didn’t even know he needed this. His body tensed, balls contracting, ready for the most intense orgasm of his life--

He sobbed into Bucky’s back as he realized the orgasm wasn’t going to happen. The tentacles within the alien was making sure of that, keeping him sounded as well as squeezing hard at the base of his shaft in the precise moment he was about to fall over the edge.

“Oh. God. Bucky! How? Oh….”

He had to keep going, keep pumping, keep chasing the orgasm he couldn’t get. Once he tried pulling out, and the tentacles wouldn’t let him go. He had no choice but to go on. It was wearing him out. It was frustrating. And he was thrilled about every moment of it. This was a challenge, and he was not going to give in. His hands on Bucky were slipping. Instead of trying to hold on, he reached up and fisted a handful of the alien’s floating long hair. All the while his hips never broke rhythm.

Beneath him, Bucky moaned and sighed in ecstasy, completely giving in to everything he was feeling. His fingers, now pressed flat on the glass in front of him, keeps slipping as he tried in vain to grab onto something for leverage. He grunted once more and tensed. His tentacles held on to the human behind him with bone-crushing strength. The tentacles inside Steve pulled out and shot streaks of sparkling liquid into space. They formed a wobbly mass of liquid ball before the force from their own momentum pulled them apart and they become separate droplets going every which way.

As the alien’s body relaxed, his tentacles also released their grip on the human. One after the other they drifted away. The merciless internal tentacles finally eased up enough for Steve to pull out. His dick was stinging from overstimulation. One touch from Bucky’s fingers and he was dropping headfirst into a screaming orgasm, wetting his lover’s back with strings of come that didn’t have room to escape into the weightlessness. In that blissful moment, with his entire grip on the alien loosened, he drifted off away from the window where Bucky had kept them anchored all this time.

He was only vaguely aware of the tentacles that reached out after him not long after, pulling him back into the warm and familiar embrace. It cuddled him until in front of the gigantic window. He hear the low humming of his favorite alien tune. The skin his fingers were resting on grew warmer. He smiled as exhaustion finally overtook him, and he drifted into sleep facing the starlight in the safe embrace of his lover.