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Dangerous Intentions

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Steve Rogers parked his classic Mustang convertible outside the townhouse—ignoring the cries of “Hey, you can’t park here!” from the concierge—and pocketed his keys before heading upstairs to the penthouse apartment.

When he arrived inside, he could hear voices from the living room. He recognized one as being his stepbrother, Brock, and another as being the odious and obnoxious Mrs Wilson. Mrs Wilson hated Steve, thinking that he was bad news, which wasn’t terribly far off the point. Steve had a habit of seducing every attractive person he saw. It was all fun—not his fault if they had morning after regrets and cried to their parents about how he had tricked them. Tricked nothing. They were just upset that they wouldn’t be able to wear their chastity rings any more.

The door was slightly ajar, and Steve shamelessly put his ear to the crack. “Not like that brother of yours,” Mrs Wilson was saying. “Honestly, here you are, heading for valedictorian of your college class, while he seems to be going for college bicycle.”

“Yes, Steven is a bit of a handful,” Brock said smoothly, not that he’d know, the fucking tease. “Although he does make good grades.”

“Good grades are nothing without a good reputation, and I’m afraid that is one thing your brother does not…”

She trailed off as Steve pushed open the door, smiling at Mrs Wilson as he entered. She looked a mixture of embarrassed and furious. Good.

Beside her sat her son, the adorably innocent Sam. He was wearing a ridiculous ‘Australia’ t-shirt, and baggy jeans. Steve, in his tailored suit, barely suppressed a shudder.

“Look who it is,” Brock said, his tone snide. “Ears burning?”

“Always. Hello, Mrs Wilson,” he said loudly in her ear.

Mrs Wilson cleared her throat. “Hello, Steven. You remember my son, Samuel.”

Steve nodded. “And might I say, that is a delightful shirt.”

“Thanks!” Sam said cheerfully. “I got it when I visited.”

“And how are things down under?” Steve asked with a sly grin. “Blossoming, I hope?”

Sam smiled, obviously not understanding, but Mrs Wilson flushed, her face pinched. “Anyway, we had better go. We have to get Samuel’s books for starting. Thank you for offering to show him around, Brock.”

“My pleasure,” Brock said, smiling, and Mrs Wilson practically dragged Sam out the door.

As soon as they were gone, Brock’s face dropped and he rolled his eyes. “Ugh,” he said eloquently. “Well that was a nightmare.”

“She really is an awful woman.”

Brock took the large cross he wore as a necklace and unscrewed the top, revealing white powder on a small spoon. He sniffed a spoonful up his right nostril, then delicately wiped his nose. “You say that because she doesn’t like you.”

“No, I say that because it’s true.”

“You know what would be fun? If you seduced Samuel. That would show her. And also Sam is dating my ex, Clint, so you’d be killing two birds with one stone.”

“Clint? The guy who dumped you?”

“The very same. He’s now dating Sam, ergo Sam must go down.”

Steve made a face. “No thanks. He’s cute, don’t get me wrong, but I have bigger fish to fry.” He took a magazine from the top of the piano and threw it on the coffee table next to Brock.

Brock raised an eyebrow. “Reading teen magazines now? How the mighty have fallen.”

“Shut up, and turn to page twelve.”

Brock flicked through the magazine until he reached the correct page, then looked up at Steve in disbelief before reading aloud.

“‘Why I’ll Wait—An Essay On Virginity.’ Ugh, what is this?”

“His name is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, and he’s intending to remain a virgin until he falls in love. True love, no less. Can you imagine how my reputation will soar when I seduce him?”

“Okay, Steve, but he’s in Indiana.”

“Au contraire, mon frére, his father has just taken the Dean’s position at our college, and he’s moving here. Not only that, but he just happens to be staying with my dear Uncle Tony while their house is being renovated before college starts.”

“You’ll never do it.”

Steve smirked. “You doubt me so much? I’m hurt. We both know I can do this if I really want to, and I really do.” He sprawled back on the chaise lounges and stretched his arms above his head. Brock got up and sat between Steve's spread legs, leaning back against him.

“Okay. How about this. You try to seduce your little virgin, but also Sam Wilson as a favor to me. And we make a bet.”

“A bet? And what terms could you possibly offer that could interest me?”

“Well…” Brock began moving his hips languidly, ass sliding sensuously against Steve's cock which began to take notice. “If I win, I get that gorgeous little car of yours.”

“And if I win?”

“If you win, then you get me.”


“Oh come on, Steven. I know you’ve been lusting after me since before our parents got married. It drives you crazy that you can’t have me, that I’m the one person immune to your charms. But if you win, you get me for one night, and you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Whatever I want?” Steve said hoarsely, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he tried to keep his reactions in check.

“Anything.” Brock twisted his head to bite lightly at Steve's jawline. “Anything at all.”

“I believe you have yourself a deal,” Steve managed.

“Excellent,” Brock replied briskly, standing and straightening himself out. “See you later, then. And look after my car for me!”

“What? Are you seriously going to leave me like this?”

Brock blew him a kiss, and Steve threw himself back against the back of the chaise lounges in frustration. Definitely time for a cold shower, where he could work on his plan of seduction for Bucky Barnes.


The following day, he drove up to his Uncle Tony’s house in the Hamptons, only to be told when he arrived that his uncle was out riding with the new arrival. To pass the time, Steve did a bit of clay pigeon shooting. After about half an hour, he heard a familiar voice call his name.

“Ugh,” he muttered to himself, before plastering on a smile and turning around. “Uncle Tony!”

“Steven, my boy, how are you?” his uncle asked, dismounting and hugging him.

“I’m great!” If Steve smiled any wider his cheeks were going to crack.

“How rude of me! Steven, this is Bucky, who is staying with me for a while. Bucky, this is my nephew Steven, an absolute darling.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Steve murmured, helping Bucky off his horse.

“Likewise,” Bucky replied, though there was something wary in his gaze which Steve didn’t like.

Steve turned to his uncle. “Uncle Tony, why don’t you go and whip up some of your amazing mint julep for us? I’ll keep Bucky company.”

“I think I will. Leave you boys to get acquainted.”

His uncle out the way, Steve grinned at Bucky. “So, Bucky, I read your manifesto.”

“You did?” Bucky looked both surprised and pleased.

“I did. I’ve got to say, I found it somewhat… appalling.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “That’s… that’s a first. Most people praised me for it.”

“Most people are sheep,” Steve said decidedly. “Who are you to criticize something you’ve never experienced, or the people who have experienced it?”

“I wasn’t criticizing anything,” Bucky replied hotly, and Steve hid a grin. If he was already getting under Bucky's skin at this early stage then that boded well for him. “I just believe that people shouldn’t experience the act of love until they’re in love. People our age aren’t mature enough to experience those emotions.”

“How condescending of you,” Steve murmured.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect a man of your experience to understand anyway.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

“I know all about you. I’ve been very well informed about your reputation,” Bucky replied, looking smug.

“What have you heard?”

“That you promise people the world to get them into bed.”

“Who… who told you this?” Steve refrained from clutching his chest. That would be a little bit much.

“A friend wrote me all about you.”

Steve frowned. “Well. That’s a little tacky.”

“Why are you so surprised, anyway?” Bucky asked. “It’s all true, isn’t it?”

Steve gave Bucky a level look. “If you say so.”

He turned his back on Bucky and strode into the house, not waiting to see if Bucky was following. Damnit. This was going to make things a little more complicated.


“I can’t believe someone ratted me out,” Steve fumed to his friends Pietro and Wanda as they sat around drinking martinis a few days later. “I can’t think who it could have been!”

“Where’s he from again?” Wanda asked.

“Indiana. Who the hell do I know in Indiana?”

Pietro smirked. “Vision.”

“Vision? The squeaky-clean college quarterback? Ugh. He hates me.”

“Not so squeaky clean,” Wanda replied with a grin. “There’s a guy who likes a little two on one action, if you know what I mean.”

Steve stared at them. “You filthy dogs. Are you saying you’ve had a threesome with him? What would his girlfriend think.”

“More than one, my friend.” Pietro’s lips twitched.

Steve looked at his friends thoughtfully. “What if he was caught on camera?”

“Pretty sure he’d hate that,” Wanda mused.

“And you guys?”

“Like we’d care,” she scoffed. “He’s back tonight and already messaged us about meeting up.”

Steve grinned. “Shall we say the, uh… stroke of midnight?”

Wanda and Pietro both laughed, and Steve left. He was going to make that fucker pay.


That night, at midnight, Steve stood outside Pietro’s dorm room, phone in hand ready. He waited until he could hear moaning, then barged in, taking multiple snaps.

“What the fuck?” Vision spluttered, trying to pull a sheet over himself.

“Oh, Vision, haven’t you been naughty?” Steve said, tutting. “That’s just terrible.”

“Please, please don’t show anyone the pictures!” Vision begged. “I’ll do anything!”

“Well, you see, it’s not so much what you could do, it’s what you have done,” Steve said slowly. “You wrote a letter to Bucky Barnes warning him about me.”

“I didn’t, I swear I didn’t!”

Steve frowned. “Well, that’s a twist. Are you sure?”

“I swear it!”

“But you know him?”

“Yeah, I know him. He’s a close friend.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to tell Bucky that I just have a bad rep and that it’s not true and I’m a great guy blah blah blah, and you find out who sent him the letter, you got it?”

Vision winced, but nodded in agreement. “Okay, okay, fine. Just please keep those pictures to yourself?”

“You do your part and I’ll consider it.” Steve smirked. “I’ll, uh. Leave you three to it.”

Steve left the room, face grim. He had to find out who had written that letter, and soon. But first, he needed to do some damage control.


As soon as he was back at his uncle’s house the following day, he went straight to Bucky’s room. Bucky opened the door, eyebrow raised as soon as he saw Steve.


“Um, hey.” Steve sighed, just the right side of dramatic. “Look, I know you don’t like me or whatever, but, uh, here.” He held out a bag, and Bucky took it, looking suspicious.

His eyes widened when he saw what was inside, and he took out the beautiful leather backpack with an air of awe. Steve thought that having Bucky’s initials put on it had been a particularly nice touch.

“Steve, I…”

“It’s stupid, you hate it,” Steve said, suddenly feeling mildly nervous. He could have laughed at himself. He had nothing to be nervous about.

“No, I love it. Thank you.” Bucky paused. “It’s amazing that someone so generous could be so manipulative.”

“Are you still on that letter nonsense?” Steve asked with a sigh.

“What was my favorite part? Oh yeah, ‘Even more treacherous than he is attractive, he has never uttered a single word without some dishonorable intention. Everyone he’s successfully pursued has regretted it. Stay away from him’.”

Steve frowned. “At least have the decency of telling me who’s badmouthing me so I might have the opportunity to confront them.”

“No way,” Bucky replied, shaking his head.

Damnit. Time for a different tack. “You’re right, you know.”

“About what?”

“About what you said yesterday. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of in the past.”

Bucky’s expression softened. “I wasn’t trying to give you a hard time.”

“I just… I see you, with your firm belief in your morals and values, and I guess I envy you. Honestly,” he added, seeing Bucky’s disbelieving look. “You're smart, you’re gorgeous, you're determined. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in someone.”

“You know I’m seeing someone.”

“Yes, I read as much in your manifesto. The lovely Scott. Funny how you’ve neglected to mention him until now.”

“He’s backpacking through Europe. He’s great, and I really miss him.”

“Okay,” Steve said with a shrug.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said slowly, “but you’re not my type. ‘You’re smart, you’re gorgeous, you’re determined’? Listing my qualities won’t get you anywhere with me. The most you can hope for is my friendship, and you’re walking a pretty fine line with that.” Bucky gave him a piercing look. “Anyway, I’ve got to get ready to meet a friend.”

He closed the door, and Steve walked away, frowning. This was going to be harder than he had first imagined.


A couple of hours later, his phone buzzed. When he answered it, it was with anticipation. “Vision, how did it go?”

“I know who wrote the letter.”

“Good man. So?”

“Mrs Wilson.”

“That bitch! Are you serious?”

“That’s what he told me. They met at orientation.”

“And what about the rest. Did you do everything I asked?”

“Of course. He bought every word.”

“Thank you, Vision. Your service is greatly appreciated.”

Steve ended the call, anger bubbling. No way was Mrs Wilson going to get away with this.


Steve stormed into the penthouse, and Brock looked up from his laptop, eyebrow raised.

“What’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe this,” Steve spat. “I’ve discovered who sent the letter to Bucky, telling him to stay away from me. Mrs Fucking Wilson.”

“Interesting,” Brock responded languidly.

“It is. So now I will be devoting all my energy into destroying that absolute douchebag. I’ll help you.”

Brock grinned. “Good to know, but there’s more. Sam has fallen for his piano teacher, T’Challa.”

“Oh, Mrs Wilson will love that. Her son falling for someone who isn’t of our class? Priceless.”

“It is. Unfortunately, our Don Juan is moving at the speed of a sloth.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Brock smirked. “I have letters. I rat Sam out to mommy. Mommy goes nuts and ends the relationship. Oh no! Whoever will they turn to for help?”

“Who indeed?” Steve said with a grin.

“Sam is going away with Clint next week,” Brock continued. “I need you to speed up his sexual awakening.”

Steve bowed. “I’m at your service.”

“Good.” Brock got up and crowded into Steve's space, their lips a hair’s breadth apart. “And how goes it with your little virgin?”

“Things are… progressing nicely,” Steve murmured, swaying slightly.

“Have you succeeded in your task?”

“Not yet.”

“Well,” Brock said, lips brushing slightly against Steve’s as he spoke, “let me know when you do. Until then…” He walked away, leaving Steve standing in the middle of the room with a cock hard enough to pound nails. Fucking Brock.


Knowing he needed to up his game, Steve called Bucky that night.

“Hey, it’s Steve,” he said when Bucky answered.


“Uh, I was just wondering if I left my glasses there?” His glasses were currently on his face, but Bucky didn’t need to know that.

“I don’t think so?”

“Oh, okay.” Steve made his tone as despondent as possible. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Is that really why you called me?” Bucky sounded suspicious but fond and if he’d been at all dorky Steve would have pumped his fist.

He sighed. “No. I called because… because I missed talking to you.”

“A moment of honesty.”

Steve could hear Bucky’s smile over the phone and his stomach did somersaults. Weird.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I’m really not enjoying it very much.”

There was a brief pause, and then Bucky said hesitantly, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Steve grinned. “I’m going out with you.”

Bucky’s laugh was music to his ears.


The following day, Brock knocked sharply on Steve’s door before entering, not waiting for Steve’s reply. Steve closed his journal, laying it on the side.

“Can I help you?”

Brock smirked. “I dropped the bombshell with Mrs Wilson today. She was… less than impressed. She fired T’Challa. T’Challa is on his way here now to talk about his options. You should be there.”

Steve shrugged. “Fine. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He took his time, and had only just sat down when T’Challa arrived. When Brock told T’Challa that Sam was devastated that T’Challa had been fired because he was in love with him, T’Challa was astonished.

“I never knew he had those feelings,” he said in awe.

“You’re a lucky guy,” Brock said, smiling.

“What should I do?”

“You should tell him you love him,” Brock replied.

T’Challa stared at Brock incredulously. “Are you kidding me? Mrs Wilson will have me shot if I go anywhere near him. His mom checks his phone messages and his emails.”

“T’Challa, why are you talking phones and emails? Be romantic. Write him another letter. We’ll make sure he gets it.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Steve nearly snorted. If it had taken this long for the man to become suspicious he obviously wasn’t that smart.

“Because,” Brock said patiently, “we want to see Sam happy. And we know that you’d make him happy. You’d make any guy happy.” Brock smiled flirtatiously at T’Challa, who squirmed uncomfortably.

“Can I have some privacy?”

“Use my room,” Brock said. “It’s right across the hall. Make yourself at home.”

As soon as T’Challa had left the room, Brock picked up his phone.

“Who are you calling?” Steve asked.

“Sam.” Steve grabbed Brock’s phone, and he glared at Steve. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Before you do this,” Steve said, his tone a warning, “I want you to be fully aware of the damage we’ll cause if we do this.”

“I’m aware,” Brock said, making a grab for the phone, but Steve kept it out of his reach.

“Are you really? We’ve done some pretty fucked up shit before, but this… you realize that we’re destroying an innocent guy for kicks?”

“Look,” Brock said, face like thunder. “Clint Barton is going down. If you won’t help me, someone else will. Have you any idea how fucking stressful it is when everyone expects you to be perfect all the time? So what if I get my kicks where I can. Fuck you for judging me. So are you in, or are you out?”

Steve sighed, and handed the phone back. “Call him.”

Brock grinned at Steve and called Sam. “Hi, Sam? Calm down. No, calm down.” He sighed, then glanced up. “You know what? Hold on for Steve.”

Brock handed the phone to Steve, who took it. “Hello, Sam? No, calm down. I need you to listen to me very carefully. I have a letter from T’Challa. He asked me to give it to you. I can’t bring it to you because your mother despises me, so here’s what we’re going to do…”


“Finished!” Sam announced, waving his letter to T’Challa at Steve from his position on his front on Steve’s bed. He took a sip of his drink then belched quietly. “This really doesn’t taste like an iced tea.”

“It’s from Long Island,” Steve said dryly, taking the letter and looking through it.

“Is it good?”

“Yes,” Steve replied distractedly.

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

Steve could have laughed at Sam’s wide-eyed innocence. “Oh my god, he’ll love it, are you kidding?” He lifted his camera and pointed it at Sam, snapping a few shots.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked bashfully.

“I’m taking your photograph,” Steve explained. “You know, you could be a model.”

“Really?” Sam looked pleased.

“Mhm. It’s just a shame you’re not sexy.”

“I can be sexy!” Sam protested, posing in various ways that were not at all sexy.

“Oh, yes, very sexy,” Steve lied, continuing to snap photos. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Sam immediately went into a yoga pose, and Steve sighed.

“Come here,” Steve told him, and Sam got up obediently. Steve pulled down the zip on Sam’s hoodie all the way, revealing a rather appealing bare chest and stomach. Sam gasped and Steve grinned. “Now that’s sexy.”

He took more snaps as Sam posed with a sudden new-found confidence, then paused.

“You know what would be really sexy? If you took all your clothes off.”

Sam gave him a disgusted look. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve lied. “That was pretty out of line.”

“I should go home,” Sam said, going to zip up his hoodie.

“Okay, I’ll just call your mom to come pick you up.” Steve reached for his phone, and Sam dived for him.

“You can’t call my mom!”

“That’s right! She doesn’t know you’re here.” Steve sighed. “I’d better not call her then.” Sam looked relieved and Steve smiled. “But… can I give you a kiss goodbye?”

“A kiss?”

“Just a kiss.” Sam puckered up, and Steve ignored him, hands going instead to Sam’s sweatpants.

“What are you doing?” Sam squeaked.

“You said I could kiss you.”

“So then why…?”

Steve sighed impatiently. “I don’t want to kiss you here.” He touched Sam’s lips with his finger. “I want to kiss you… there.” He pointed to Sam’s crotch.

Sam’s eyes widened. “Um… is that…?”

“It’ll be good, I promise.”


Steve hid a grin, and pulled Sam’s sweatpants down. He knelt in front of Sam and began mouthing kisses up his already half hard cock. When he took the head of Sam’s cock into his mouth and started to suck, Sam groaned loudly.

“Oh my god. Oh that feels… What are you…? Hnnngh oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” Steve tasted bitter liquid filling his mouth as Sam moaned out his orgasm, then tucked Sam back into his sweatpants. Sam’s shoulders were slumped languidly, and he looked blissed out. Steve bit back a laugh.

“Good kiss?”

“Nnrgh,” Sam managed.


That afternoon, Steve was having coffee with his uncle and Bucky when his uncle received a phone call. When he got off the phone, he looked concerned.

“What am I going to do?” his uncle asked with a sigh.

“Is everything okay?”

His uncle looked at him. “That was Mrs Collins. They need volunteers at the retirement home, but I have an experiment that I can’t leave for that long.” His face brightened suddenly. “I have an idea! Why don’t you two fill in for me?”

“Of course!” Bucky said quickly, too quickly for Steve to make excuses.

When he managed to escape his effusive uncle, Steve sighed. That was his afternoon ruined.


Steve drove himself and Bucky to the retirement home, and they were shown inside by one of the care workers. Bucky was taken into a room with an elderly gentleman, while Steve was taken to an old lady’s room.

“Mrs Sugarman? This is Steven. He’s going to spend some time with you.”

The old lady gave him the vague smile of someone with severe dementia, and Steve shot her a calculated look. He could work with this.

Two hours later, he was almost finished his crossword and had managed to convince Mrs Sugarman that they’d played backgammon and she had beaten him three times, which she immediately told the care worker when she returned to let Steve know it was time to go.

When they got in the car, Bucky turned to him. “So?”

Steve shrugged as he started the engine and drove away. “It’s strange. I actually feel good about myself right now. Mrs Sugarman was cool.”

Bucky snorted inelegantly. “Oh come on. ‘Mrs Sugarman’s cool’? You must think I’m a total idiot if you think I’ll believe that.”

“Okay, fine.” Steve sighed. “I hated it. I was bored out of my mind. I hate doing charity. Are you happy?”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said with a smile. “It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“It really kinda does. I mean, look at you. I bet you had loads of fun with that old man.”

“It doesn’t make you a bad person that you don’t like spending time with the elderly,” Bucky said patiently. “You know what your problem is? You take yourself too seriously.”

“I do not!”

“You do. You should lighten up.”

“I am lightened up. Can we drop this?”

Bucky shrugged. “Fine, I’ll drop it.” A moment later, Steve saw Bucky out the corner of his eye, making ridiculous faces.

“What are you doing?” Bucky continued to make increasingly bizarre and hilarious faces, and Steve couldn’t hid his smile. “Stop that! It’s distracting! I’m serious!”

“Are you smiling?” Bucky looked delighted, and Steve immediately straightened his face. “It’s okay, you can laugh. I won’t tell anyone.”

Steve couldn’t help himself. When Bucky made another face, he laughed out loud in a way he hadn’t for as long as he could remember. It suddenly occurred to Steve that he was in very real danger of genuinely falling for Bucky, and it gave him pause. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to have feelings. But there was just something about Bucky.


When Steve arrived back in the city, Brock grinned at him.

“You’ll be getting a visit from Sam tonight. God, do you realize he’d never even had an orgasm before you blew him? How does he not jerk off? I’d go insane.”

“Huh.” Steve couldn’t help but agree. Even with the amount of sex he had, he still jerked off. The thought that Sam had got to college age without ever discovering that was astonishing, to say the least. “So why will he be visiting me?”

Brock gave Steve an impatient look. “So he can practice having sex with you. Jesus, keep up.”


“For T’Challa.” Brock grinned. “I told him that everyone sleeps around, but no one talks about it. He totally bought it.”

Something about the whole situation didn't sit quite right with Steve, but he thought about what Mrs Wilson had done and hardened his heart. “Okay, fine, I’ll fuck him. Whatever. Was there anything else?”

“Your mother called. You know she’s a douchebag, right?”

“And your asshole father is somehow magically perfect? Let’s face it, they’re perfect for each other. A perfect couple of fuckups.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Any word on when they’ll be back from China?”

Brock shrugged. “They’ve decided to explore the north so fuck knows. Who cares.”

“Good point.” Steve rolled his shoulders. “I’m gonna take a shower. I might even teach Sam the finer points of ass eating.”

He left the room on a wave of Brock’s laughter.


That night, as he and Sam lay together in Steve’s bed, Steve filled in another entry in his journal.

“Is it supposed to feel kinda uncomfortable?” Sam asked, squirming.

“That’s ass sex for you,” Steve murmured distractedly. “It’ll pass.”

“I liked it best when I was riding you,” Sam said, aiming for sultry as he climbed onto Steve's lap. Steve looked up at Sam over his glasses.

“This is what I like to call ‘quiet time’, when we reflect on what we’ve done.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Sam looked at him curiously. “Something the matter?”

“Why would you think that?” Steve asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“It’s that Bucky guy. You love him, don’t you?” Steve stared at his journal. “That’s okay,” Sam continued. “I don’t love you either. I love T’Challa. God, I can’t wait to see him again.”

Steve sighed, squeezing his eyes shut briefly before putting his journal over on the side table. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Want company?”


“Want a blow job?”

“Goodnight, Sam,” Steve called over his shoulder as he left the room.


The following day, Steve was at his uncle’s house, watching Bucky from an upstairs window, when the door opened behind him.

‘What are you doing?” Brock asked, and Steve looked away.


Brock glanced out the window. “Is that him?” Steve stayed silent, and Brock smirked. “Oh no, is he crying? Is the little baby upset by that big, bad book?”

“Shut up,” Steve snapped, surprising even himself.

Brock’s eyes widened. “What’s up your ass?”


“Huh.” Brock gave him a searching look. “He’s really getting to you, isn’t he?”

Steve tipped his head back and sighed. “If you must know, yes, he is. I can’t stand any of that ‘holier-than-thou’ bullshit he’s got going on, yet I find myself completely infatuated.” He paused, before continuing quietly, “He made me laugh.”

Brock raised an eyebrow. “Is this why you're losing our bet?”

“I’m not losing our bet,” Steve shot back. “It’s just taking a little longer than expected.”

“Do you mind if I take my new car for a ride?” Brock asked, his tone nonchalant but the expression in his eyes was a challenge.

“The only thing you’re going to be riding is me,” Steve retorted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

He swept out of the room, cursing himself. He knew he was slipping deeper, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He went out to the garden where Bucky was sitting and sat down beside him. As Bucky opened his mouth to speak, Steve leaned in and kissed him, before pulling back. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

“Me too,” Bucky responded softly, and Steve took a deep breath.

“You know what? I’m not sorry,” he said angrily. “I don’t take it back.”

“I thought we were just going to be friends.”

Steve looked into Bucky’s helpless face. “Yeah, well, I can’t handle it. I can’t keep my feelings bottled up like you. Can you honestly tell me that you feel nothing for me?”

Bucky looked at the ground. “I have feelings for you,” he said quietly.

‘Then what’s wrong? You don’t have a husband. Unless you’re married to Jesus.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Then why can’t we be together?”

“You want to know why?” Bucky said, his voice almost a shout.

“Yes, I want to know why!”

“Because I don’t trust myself with you.”

Bucky stood and walked quickly across the garden towards the house. To Steve, it looked like he was running away. His plan was working, so why did he feel so hollow?


Steve went straight to Bucky’s room when he knew Bucky would be getting ready for bed. Sure enough, when Bucky answered the door, he was wearing soft looking sweatpants and nothing else. Steve only just managed to keep his reaction in check because for a bookish virgin Bucky was ripped, possibly even more than Steve was himself.

Bucky looked at him for a moment, then stood to one side. “Come in,” he said quietly, and Steve did so, shutting the door behind him.

“I just came to say goodbye,” Steve said, tying to keep his eyes on Bucky's face.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked, and although his expression was neutral there was something in his eyes that said he was more emotional than he was letting on.

Steve shrugged. “Back to the city. I may go to the south of Italy. I just can’t take your games any more.”

“What games?” Bucky looked genuinely confused, and Steve laughed harshly.

“Oh, come on. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been blowing hot and cold with me for a while, and it’s making me feel inadequate.”

Bucky’s expression shuttered. “Well, if that’s how you feel, then I guess it’s best that you do leave.”


Bucky looked at his feet, then back at Steve. “I really don’t want to part on bad terms.”

“Sorry,” Steve shrugged. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice here. You’re a hypocrite. I don’t associate with hypocrites.”

“How am I a hypocrite?” Bucky asked, aghast.

“Because! You spend all this time preaching about how you’re waiting for love, you want to be in love, and here it is! Right in front of you! And you’re just going to dismiss it and ignore it. So I guess that’s that. I’ll move on, eventually. But you? You’ll spend the rest of your life knowing you turned your back on love. And that makes you a hypocrite.” Steve paused, and took a deep calming breath. “Have a nice life.”

He turned to go, but then felt a hand on his arm.


Steve turned, and Bucky frowned, then kissed him. The kiss deepened quickly, and Steve felt his stomach swoop. Bucky pulled back, then led him over to the bed, lying down and drawing Steve in to kiss him again. He took Steve's hand and pressed it against his chest, and Steve…

Steve couldn’t do it.

He drew back, looking down at Bucky's trusting face, hating himself in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I can’t.”

He stood and fled from the room to his own. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he flung himself down on his bed, grabbing his journal off the bedside table and writing furiously.

“Fucking get it together,” he muttered to himself. But it was too late. He had fallen for Bucky.


The next morning, after an interrupted night of sleep, Steve went through for breakfast, to find Brock sitting at the breakfast table.

“Morning,” Steve muttered.

“So how did it go last night?” Brock asked.

“With who?”

Brock rolled his eyes. “Well, I know how it went with Sam, he won’t shut up about it.”

“If you’re asking if I nailed him, the answer is no.”

“He shot you down?” Brock asked with a grin.

“Actually… actually, it was the other way around.”


“I don’t know!” Steve said helplessly. “He was lying on the bed, ready to do it, but I was… I just didn’t feel right about it.”

Brock looked disgusted. “You had the chance to fuck him and you didn’t? Boy, are you a chump.” Steve got up to go and look for Bucky, but Brock called from behind him, “If you’re heading to his room, he’s not there.”

“Where is he?”

“You don’t know?” Brock smirked. “He left twenty minutes ago. He apologized to your uncle, and told him he was going to stay with friends. Face it, Steve. You blew it. That boy has come to his senses and he’ll never see you again.”

Steve stormed out, thinking hard. Who would possibly know where Bucky was?

He took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts.



“Hey, it’s Rogers. Is he with you? Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you should just leave him alone.”

“Where is he?” Steve shouted.

“Okay, okay! He’s with his friend’s parents. The Romanoffs. He caught a train to Penn Station ten minutes ago.”

“Thank you.”

Steve looked at his watch. He had just enough time to drive down and meet the train.

He waited at the top of one of the escalators, and when Bucky came up it, Steve was the first thing he saw. Bucky stepped off of the escalator, and stood in front of Steve.

“I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve said, smiling, “I’m in love.”

He kissed Bucky deeply.


They drove in near silence back to the penthouse, occasionally exchanging knowing glances, until they reached Steve's bedroom. Then Bucky leaned in and kissed Steve, and Steve could almost taste the nervousness on his tongue.

“We don’t have to…” he began, but Bucky interrupted him with another kiss.

“I know.”

Bucky pushed Steve's jacket off his shoulders onto the floor, then began unbuttoning his shirt. Steve stood patiently until Bucky was done, then shrugged out of it, letting Bucky's hands roam over his chest.

Bucky went to undo his own shirt, but Steve shook his head. “Let me?”

Bucky nodded, and Steve unbuttoned his shirt with care, bending to kiss each inch of skin as it was revealed. When Bucky stood in front of him, shirtless and bashful, Steve's heart clenched in his chest. He was in deep, and he knew it.

They kissed again, reaching for each other's pants, and Steve hissed as Bucky's fingers pressed against his hardening cock. He felt Bucky start to pull back but responded only by kissing him more fervently. As Steve pushed down Bucky's pants and underwear in one go, Bucky moaned into the kiss, driving Steve higher.

Of course they got tangled up in their pants as they tried to kick off shoes and socks, and they laughed together before untangling themselves and kissing again. It was the most joyous that Steve had ever felt about sex. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to live without this feeling.

Finally they were both naked, and Steve stepped back to look his fill. Bucky stood awkwardly, blushing as he looked at Steve’s naked body, and Steve smiled softly.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, and Bucky’s blush deepened.

“I’m not.”

Steve shook his head. “You really have no idea just how amazing you are.” He leaned in to kiss Bucky again, guiding him back towards the bed, then lying down beside him. “What do you want?”

Bucky shrugged shyly. “I want you to make love to me. I want to feel you inside me.”

Steve's breath caught in his throat. “Are you sure? Be sure.”

Bucky kissed him softly. “I’m sure. I love you, Steve.”

“Okay.” Steve sat up and reached into his bedside cabinet to take out the lube and a condom, and as he turned back Bucky spread his thighs invitingly. Steve smiled down at him, settling between, and kissed Bucky's inner thigh, moving slowly up to his groin before nuzzling his already hard cock. Slicking up his fingers, Steve reached down and began lightly stroking at Bucky's asshole as he took Bucky's cock into his mouth.

Bucky gasped, hands coming down to tangle in Steve's hair, tugging just a little as Steve pushed the first finger inside. Steve began to carefully finger Bucky open, taking his time, learning the sounds that Bucky made as Steve opened him up. Beautiful groans and whimpermoans that made Steve's own cock twitch and leak on the sheets.

By the time he added a third finger, Bucky's hands were fisting in the sheets. He was so responsive. Steve pulled up off Bucky's cock, sucking kisses up the shaft.

“You ready?” he asked softly, and Bucky nodded.

“I need you.”

Steve smiled at him, drawing out his fingers. He rolled on the condom and covered his cock in the lube, then positioned himself. He bent down, kissing Bucky as he began to push inside, swallowing the gasps and moans that Bucky made as Steve pushed in deeper.

When his hips met Bucky's ass, Steve paused, looking down at him. “You okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Bucky responded quietly. “Don't stop.”

Steve smiled, and began to gently move his hips. Bucky moved his to meet Steve, and they soon found a rhythm that set Steve's blood on fire.

They moved slowly together, neither of them in a hurry to finish, fucking—making love—languidly for what felt like hours. But then Steve shifted his hips, and Bucky cried out.

“Oh my god, Steve, do that again!”

Steve laughed, unable to remember when he'd last been so happy, and did as he was told, hitting that spot inside Bucky over and over. Bucky began to fist his own cock in time with Steve's thrusts, as Steve watched the interplay of emotions on Bucky's face. Then suddenly Bucky was gasping, “Oh my god, Steve, Steve!” and coming, muscles squeezing Steve's cock. Steve paused, kissing Bucky through it, then Bucky drew back. “Come on, Steve,” Bucky murmured. “Want to see you come for me.”

Steve nodded and began to thrust again. Bucky bit his lip, no doubt oversensitive, but Steve was close, he was so close…

“Oh my god, Bucky!” Steve cried, coming as hard as he ever had in his life. He ducked his head, panting, then felt Bucky's hand on his cheek. He looked up into Bucky's eyes, seeing the soft look there, and couldn't stop himself from leaning in for a languid kiss.

“I love you,” Bucky muttered against his lips.

“I love you too.”


After dropping Bucky off at his friend’s parents’, Steve returned to the penthouse. As he passed Brock’s door, he heard moaning and groaning from inside. Amused, Steve knocked lightly on the door. He heard cussing from inside, a flurry of activity, then Brock called, “Come in!”

When Steve entered the room, Brock was sitting on the bed, shirt open and hair askew. Steve smirked. “Bad time?”

Brock shrugged. “Kind of.”

Steve only just managed not to roll his eyes. “Well, you obviously wanted me to witness this little tableau, otherwise you wouldn’t have invited me in. I wonder, who is the person who brings you so much pleasure? Where could they be?”

Steve lifted the dust ruffle around the base of the bed to reveal none other than T’Challa lying underneath, naked aside from his underwear and holding a lubed buttplug in hand. He waved sheepishly at Steve, who raised an eyebrow.

T’Challa rolled out from under the bed and grabbed his clothes, looking between Steve and Brock. “Some fucked up shit goes on in this house,” he muttered as he made his escape.

“Call me!” Brock called after him, then grinned at Steve. “You don’t get to have all the fun, after all. I assume you’ve come here to make arrangements?”

Steve snorted inelegantly. “Some other time.”

“Excuse me?” Brock looked incensed.

“I’m not in the mood,” Steve replied dismissively.

“I wanna fuck!”

“And I don’t. Good afternoon, Brock.”

Steve left and took a deep breath. He knew that had probably been unwise, but really, what was the worst Brock could do?”


Steve had been on the phone to Bucky, and they were saying their goodbyes when Brock came into the room in time to hear Steve say,”I love you too. Bye.”

Brock raised an eyebrow. “‘I love you too’? My god, you’re whipped.”

Steve gave him a look. “Stop it.”

“What happened to us? Everything has changed. You don’t love me any more, you love him. Bucky.”

“Oh, come on, Brock, it’s just a bet,” Steve said weakly, not believing himself in the slightest. “This is ridiculous.”

Brock sneered. “What’s ridiculous, dear brother, is you. Look at yourself! Look at what you’ve been reduced to! Have you thought about what happens when college starts again? You’re dating the guy who said in a magazine that he was a twenty one year old virgin waiting for love—and the Dean’s son, no less. Before you know it, you’ll be giving campus tours together.” Brock paused. “Oh, wait… Bucky’s daddy doesn’t know about your checkered past, does he? I doubt he’d let his pride and joy be seen with the likes of you. It’s so disappointing to see that Bucky’s manifesto was a total sham. Hmm. I should probably warn him.”

Brock picked up his phone, and Steve glared at him. “Put the phone down.” As Brock smirked at him, Steve took a deep breath. “You know what? I don’t care what you say. I was planning on telling Bucky everything this afternoon.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. You’re so in love. Do you honestly believe that you’ve changed so much in the few days you’ve known him? Let me tell you something, Steven, nobody changes like that overnight. You and I are two of a kind. At least I have the guts to admit it. You would have gone through college a legend. Now you'll be a joke. And not only will you ruin your reputation, but you’ll destroy his when people find out. And they will find out.”

Steve looked at Brock before storming out of the room. He had some serious thinking to do.


Eventually, mind made up, Steve went to see Bucky. Bucky showed him through to his bedroom, and smiled shyly at Steve. “Do you think we can be quiet?”

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Steve took a deep breath. “This isn’t working out for me any more. It’s not you, it’s… it’s me. I’m completely fucked up."

Bucky took a step backwards, staring at him. “What are you saying?”

“I thought I was in love with you, but it was just a lie. I wanted it to work, but unfortunately, I feel nothing.”

“Why are you doing this?” Bucky asked in a whisper.

“I just wanted to see what you were like in bed,” Steve told him, and the look on Bucky's face sent a chill through Steve's heart.

“You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that.”

“Oh, because you know me? You know nothing about me. Nothing. And the fact is, there is someone I love. You don’t even compare to him.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Steve gave a hollow laugh. “I don’t know how I can make this any clearer to you. You mean absolutely nothing to me. You were only a conquest.”

“You… you fucking coward,” Bucky spat. “Look at yourself, you’re shaking. What the fuck is wrong with you? Is that what you came here to tell me? Well you can just leave.”

Steve tried to stop himself from shaking, to stop the tears spilling over, but he couldn’t. “I’m sorry, I’m completely—”

“Yeah, you’re completely fucked up. Well you can get out, now.” Steve reached feebly for Bucky's hand, and Bucky smacked his hand away. “Get out! Get out! Don’t fucking touch me, just… just leave.”

Steve nodded, and left, feeling as though his heart had broken into a million pieces.


Once the tears had finally stopped, he put on his sunglasses and waited in Brock's room for him to return. When he came in, he looked surprised to see Steve there.

“What do you want?”

“I thought you’d want to know what happened between Bucky and I,” Steve said thickly. “It’s over.”

“Really?” Brock asked, his expression amused.

“You were right. I can’t change. Nobody changes that much overnight, right? So I thought we should have a celebration.” He gestured towards the bottle of champagne and two glasses on the desk.

“I’d love to," Brock said insincerely, “but unfortunately I’m expecting company.”


“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”

Steve held up a letter. “From T’Challa. I haven’t read it—heaven forfend I read your personal mail—but I’m pretty sure it’s something along the lines of ‘blah blah, you mean a lot to me, but I’m in love with Sam, hope we can be friends, etcetera’. I expected your bullshit so I took the liberty of arranging a little meetup between Sam and T’Challa, who I discovered is actually secretly a prince studying at Juilliard in secret. Mrs Wilson, as you can imagine, is thrilled that her son is dating a prince.”

Brock nodded. “Well done.”

“Thank you.” Steve poured the champagne. “Now, where will we? Oh yes, a celebration. To what should we toast?”

“To my triumph,” Brock said smoothly.

Steve raised his eyebrow. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it’s your call. To your triumph over Bucky.” Brock began to laugh, and Steve looked at him curiously. “What’s so funny?”

“Silly Steve. My triumph isn’t over him. It’s over you!”


“You idiot. You were so very, very in love with Bucky. You still are, that much is obvious.” Steve froze, unable to believe what he was hearing. “But I thought I’d make you ashamed of it for kicks. You gave up the first person you ever loved, just because I threatened your reputation. It’s pathetic. Don’t you understand yet, Steve? You’re just a little toy for me to play with. That’s all you’ve ever been. And now you’ve completely blown it with your first love. That’s pretty much the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Cheers!” Brock took a swig of champagne as Steve tried to process what Brock had just told him.


“And I assume that you’ve come here to make arrangements, but honestly? I don’t fuck losers. And that’s what you are.”

Maybe it’s not too late, Steve thought desperately, and ran from the room.

He went to his bedroom and grabbed his journal from its secret hiding spot, then drove to the park around the corner from where Bucky was staying. He wrote furiously, everything that had happened, his feelings, how Brock had tricked and betrayed him. He hoped it would be enough.

He wrote a letter to go with it, choosing each word carefully.

Dear Bucky,

I don’t know what I can say to make this better, given how much I hurt you. The truth is, the time spent with you was the only time I’ve ever truly been happy. My entire life has just been a joke. I prided myself in taking joy in hurting others. Well, now I’ve succeeded in hurting the only person I’ve ever loved, and I don’t know what I can do to make it right. Enclosed is my most prized possession—my journal. For the longest time, I’ve considered it a trophy; a record of all my conquests. If you want to know the truth, please read it. No more lies. Please give me another chance. I’m a wreck without you.

With all my love,


He took the journal and letter and put them in an envelope, taking them up to the door of the apartment. The woman there refused to let him in, claiming that Bucky wasn’t there, and Steve's shoulders slumped. He should have known that Bucky wouldn’t want to see him.

“Well, will you please make sure he gets this? It’s imperative that he gets this,” Steve said desperately.

“Okay,” the woman said shortly, taking the envelope before closing the door in his face.

Steve wandered aimlessly nearby for a while, not wanting to go back to the penthouse yet and face Brock. As he walked along the sidewalk, he heard a familiar voice calling his name. He turned to see T’Challa bearing down on him, his expression tight and angry.

“I just got off the phone with Brock. Did you really hit him? Did you really fuck Sam?”

Steve sighed. “Don’t tell me he got to you too. Look, if you give me five minutes I can explain everything.”

“You sonofabitch,” T’Challa spat, and pushed Steve hard. As T’Challa went to take a swing, suddenly Bucky was there, pulling him back. T’Challa pushed Bucky away…

…Right into the path of an oncoming car. Steve threw himself into the road, pushing Bucky out of the way just in time as the car ploughed into him.



Steve opened his eyes to see Bucky’s face hovering over him, smiling.

“Hey,” he croaked, and Bucky frowned, taking the up of water from by Steve's hospital bed and putting the straw in Steve's mouth. Steve sipped gratefully at the water before pulling back.

“The whole college is in an uproar,” Bucky said softly, and Steve smiled.

“So it worked?”

Bucky nodded. “I passed around the copies of your journal, and my father found the cocaine in Brock’s cross. He’s been kicked out, effective immediately, and everyone hates him.” Bucky paused. “T’Challa feels so bad about everything.”

Steve shrugged, wincing as the movement stretched his painful muscles. “If I’d been him I’d’ve done the same thing.”

“People are viewing you as quite the hero,” Bucky said, lips twitching. “The guy who exposed an evil genius for what he really was. They think it was really brave of you to let me use your journal to bring things to light. Even Sam sends his best wishes.”

Steve sighed. “There goes my reputation.”

“Do you really care about that?” Bucky asked seriously.

“No,” Steve replied, shaking his head. “I really don’t.”

Bucky smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly. “My father wants to meet you to thank you for saving my life.”

“He does? I mean, does he know about…?”

“He knows I love you. He knows that you’re not as bad as you were made out to be. And he knows that you saved my life and almost died in the process. That’s enough for him.”

“Then I guess I’ll meet him.” Steve bit his lip. “I’ve never done that, you know. Meet the parents.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. Unless…” Bucky looked at Steve nervously. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“For you?” Steve said softly. “Bucky, for you I’d do anything.”

As Bucky leaned in and kissed him again, Steve figured that maybe a new start wouldn’t be so bad. After all, he had learned to love. The rest? Well, he could just figure that out as he went along.