Actions

Work Header

Touch As Sweet As

Work Text:

Bucky simply couldn’t believe that Steve wanted to touch him, any part of him. Ever. He was disgusting. A monster, a thing.

But that touching was so, so good. He shuddered into it. Craved it like a drug. What did it matter if it stirred up uneasy things inside him? So what if each increasingly more intimate sensation left Bucky distant and compliant for longer and longer?

He needed it, and he hated himself for wanting it. For forcing Steve to debase himself by touching something so ugly.

It left him feeling slimy, used, but he loved it so much. Steve’s touch was, and should be, the best thing in his life. To be loved and cherished, undeserving though he was, that feeling was everything to him. But he couldn't help but shiver with fear and shame each time.

Memories tickled in the back of his head, but Bucky couldn’t place them. Something about sex, about being treated softly. Every once in a while he’d get a flash of blond hair. Rarely he’d have a flash about glasses. He assumed it was Steve during the war, though why they’d bother to dress up with spectacles was beyond Bucky.

Steve was so happy, too. Every needy noise and choked off grunt that Bucky made just made Steve smile and love on him more. So what if Bucky lost a little time when they touched? His brain was probably just whiting out with how good it all felt, and the upset and filthy feeling afterwards was just his own inability to accept nice things.

So what if, more and more, Bucky couldn’t decide if he loved or hated Steve touching him?

--

Steve rolled his hips into Bucky, fucking into him slow and easy. Bucky was always so tight and sweet, so perfect under him that Steve was nearly crosseyed with trying to keep from coming right away.

The way Bucky shoved his ass up in the air and just clutched the sheets, like he was holding on for his life. Fuck, it made Steve just want to ravish him. But he refrained. After everything Bucky had been through, he deserved every sweet and gentle touch Steve could give him.

So Steve took his time, and took Bucky apart inch by inch.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Steve said, gripping Bucky’s hips tightly and grinding them together. “You’re so good for me. Perfect.”

Bucky sobbed into the sheets and tried to shove himself farther back onto Steve’s cock. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The first time Bucky had called him ‘sir’, Steve had worried a bit. But Bucky never demanded anything from him, never wanted anything other than more of what Steve was already doing to him. It took a little research, some of which Steve wasn’t fully comfortable with, but he’d found out that wanting someone to be in charge during sex wasn’t unusual. They’d never been like that before the war, but, well, people’s needs and wants changed over time, and Steve understood that.

Steve found that he didn’t mind. It sparked something hot and possessive inside of him. No one would ever hurt Bucky again because he was Steve’s.

Sex wore Bucky out now days. He’d lie there, limp and panting like they’d been running all day. Steve always took extra care to clean him up and make him comfortable, because soon enough Bucky would pull away. He’d drag himself to the corner of the room or the bed and just curl in on himself and shake.

The first time that happened, Steve tried to hold him, comfort him with whatever he was going through. Bucky had scrambled away, terrified, tears leaking down his face. Steve never tried again after that. He just laid down nearby and talked him through it.

Eventually Bucky would come back to himself. Every time, he would crawl over to where Steve lay and apologize for being dirty and wrong, over and over. Beg to be touched again.

Every time, it broke Steve’s heart. Seeing Bucky pile so much hate on himself was like a knife in the chest.

Steve would have stopped the sex altogether, but Bucky pleaded with him for it. Practically chased Steve through the apartment one time, intent on getting close and cuddly.

In the end Steve couldn’t deny Bucky anything he wanted, even if the after effects were a little rough. It was possible that sex was one of the few times where Bucky could get out of his own head and just feel appreciated. Loved. Steve could deal with anything just to make sure Bucky had those moments.

Steve adjusted his angle, making sure that his cock rubbed Bucky just the right way on every stroke. It felt so damn good. Hit and tight all around him. The soft swell of Bucky gorgeous ass and the taste of his sweat. Steve wanted to just eat him up. Fuck him until they both were senseless.

Bucky cried out, moaning and shaking his head back and forth. There was a soft rrripp as the sheets gave way under his fists, so lost in pleasure that he’d started to forget his own strength. This would be a good one, Steve was sure.

“That’s right. Let me hear you,” Steve said, voice rough with want.

“Yes! Yes, sir!” Bucky practically howled the words, tears streaming down his face.

Steve slammed into him, hard and sharp, causing them both to groan. Then he leaned down over Bucky, draping his body over Bucky’s back, and wiped the tears off his face. That hard body was so beautiful, Steve couldn’t believe Bucky didn’t see it.

He pressed down into Bucky’s, ass, trying to get them as tightly together as he could. His cock was so hard that it pulsed with the pounding of his heart. The more Steve pressed down, the wider Bucky’s legs were shoved open, until he was pressed nearly flat into the bed. Every bit of added weight only tightened up his rim. His ass practically milked Steve’s dick, clenching and gripping him so sweetly that Steve nearly screamed.

“Good boy, so needy. So ready for me,” Steve whispered in his ear. Bucky nodded quickly, eyes screwed shut.

God, Steve was so fucking close. He wanted Bucky to come with him though, wanted to feel him tighten up around Steve’s cock. Keeping his full weight bearing down, he grabbed Bucky’s metal hand and guided it down, urging Bucky to jerk himself off.

He quickly got to work, though the movement of his hand was hampered by how tightly they were pressed to the bed. Steve pulled up Bucky’s hips a bit with one hand, giving him room to fuck his own fist. The other hand, Steve kept tight on Bucky’s shoulder, forcing his head down.

It was so fucking good, feeling Bucky under him. Feeling Bucky roll his hips into Steve’s cock and then back into his own hand, chasing pleasure in both directions. His skin was burning hot under Steve’s hands and each little moan only made everything that much more desperate. Steve couldn’t stop the feral grin that split his face, nor could he resist pounding into Bucky as hard as he could.

Heat roared through him and he struggled not to leave bruises onto Bucky’s skin with how tightly he gripped him. He wanted to pull at all that lovely, long hair, force Bucky to show more of his beautiful pale neck, but Steve was too caught up in the moment. All he needed was more. More feeling, more of that tight, wet heat. Already he could feel himself tightening up, almost ready come come. The pleasure was so intense that his brain seemed to short circuit, letting his mouth just run with every filthy thing he could think of.

He was so close. From how frantically Bucky was moving, he could tell Bucky was close, too.

“Fuck. So hot for me, aren’t you?” Steve was babbling, he knew he was, but he couldn’t quite stop. He slammed down harder, pulling out nearly all the way with each thrust, and then pounding back in, slapping their flesh together. An obscene squelch sound accompanied every move, reminding them both how soaking wet Bucky’s ass was. “Who do you belong to? Tell me.”

“Hydra, sir,” Bucky said hoarsely, fist moving rapidly over his dick.

Steve froze for a moment as he processed that answer. Then suddenly it clicked. Horror filled him up so quickly that he practically choked on it.

What? Bucky, no!” Steve pulled himself away and flipped Bucky over as fast as he could, trying to get a read on what was going on.

But Bucky’s eyes were still closed tightly, tears dripping down his face. Every muscle practically screamed with tension as he furiously jerked off. “I’m sorry, sir! My hole belongs to you, sir!”

Steve’s hands hovered over Bucky’s writhing body, unsure of what to do. Where to touch. If he should touch. His own pleasure was long forgotten. Now all he felt was cold dread.

“Bucky, please. It’s Steve. You’re not with Hydra any more. Please, honey. Tell me you know where you are. Say my name,” Steve begged. The urge to both cry and rage boiled inside of him, and the world spun. He couldn’t breathe.

“Pierce, sir.” No, no, no, no, no. “My tight, dirty holy belongs to you, sir.” With that, Bucky choked off a groan and came all over himself, spurt after spurt of thick, white fluid covering his chest and metal hand. Slowly, he jerked himself dry, his chest heaving from the strain, and then whispered, “Thank you, sir.”

Steve couldn’t think, couldn’t even move. All he could do was stare in horror, jaw dropped and hands still out stretched. Realization rolled over him.

Pierce raped Bucky, made him want it. Made him ask for it. Every time Bucky called Steve, ‘sir’, he thought Steve was Pierce.

Every. Single. Time.

His gorge rose and Steve fought off the urge to vomit. He’d-- fuck, he’d thought he was helping. Thought that they were doing something good, but he’d raped Bucky. Took advantage of him. No wonder Bucky fled to a corner after it was all done.

Bucky cracked open his eyes and looked down at Steve’s now-limp cock. “Sir. You didn't finish. Please, sir, use my mouth.” He shifted around on the bed, crawling forward and angling his head so he could swallow Steve down.

The moment Bucky touched Steve’s leg with one hand, it was like a shock ran through every part of Steve’s body. He flinched back hard and scrambled away. A cold sweat broke out all over and his brain felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let Bucky touch him like this.

No, no, no, no, no…

Now Bucky began to sob in earnest, and crawled forward as low as he could manage. “Please, sir, I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please touch me, sir. Please, I need it…”

Those words broke through the disgust. Whatever was going on with Steve, he couldn’t leave Bucky like that, sobbing because he thought he’d done something wrong. Swallowing down the pain and upset, he gritted his jaw and gathered Bucky up in his arms and gently petted him.

“You did well, Bucky.” Steve couldn’t bring himself to call him ‘asset’ or ‘soldier’. He just couldn’t. His eyes stung and he sniffed hard, nose already starting to run. Bucky keened in his arms and arched in to every touch like it was a blessing. “So good. You’re perfect, Bucky. You didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is your fault.”

It’s mine, he thought.

The rocked together for a while, and when Bucky finally started to pull back, Steve let him go. Per his norm, Bucky crawled away to the corner of the bed, tucked himself into a ball, and sat there shivering.

Unable to hold himself back at that point, Steve buried his face in the sheets and wept. Every time he thought he was helping, every time things were starting to look okay, Steve went and fucked it up. Literally, he thought with awful self-loathing.

He pulled the sheets close, covering his face as he cried, forearms bracketing his head to muffle the sound. Steve did his best to keep quiet. After everything Bucky had been through, he didn’t need Steve’s upset as well.

His whole body was one solid ache, a useless mass of pain and guilt. Every little trail of liquid, every drop of sweat and lube, felt like poison seeping into him; a reminder of the terrible way he’d hurt his best friend, the other half of his soul.

All he needed to do was keep quiet for awhile as Bucky came back to himself. Steve could take this moment to deal, and then he’d be ready to help Bucky through whatever he was feeling.

In a minute. Just another minute to try and get out all the pain.

Something in the back of his head registered movement. Dimly, he recognized that he was rocking a bit, so he wrote the movement off as just that. But then there was a soft touch on his back.

“Steve?” Bucky sounded so hesitant, so concerned.

Steve flinched back in surprise and revulsion. Not at Bucky. He could never think Bucky was anything less than amazing. No, all his bile and loathing was for himself. He’d taken broken a sacred trust, and worse, he’d enjoyed it.

“Steve, please, tell me whats wrong. Sweetheart.”

Steve scrubbed the tears from his eyes and looked up at Bucky’s worried face. He wanted to reach out and brush the furrow from his brow, but couldn’t bring himself too. Steve didn’t deserve to touch Bucky ever again.

“Bucky,” he said, voice thick and cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Steve stared at his hands, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

But Bucky wasn’t having it. He crowded close to Steve and held out his hand. Steve wanted to touch him, more than anything, but how could he justify it? What right did he have?

When Steve just sat there, Bucky swallowed hard and reached out to pull their hands together, and gently rubbed his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. “Steve, you gotta talk to me. What happened?”

“You---” Steve tried to swallow around the massive lump in his throat, but couldn’t quite do it. “You called me Pierce.” Bucky’s hands froze in his grip.

“What.”

Steve had to keep going. Had to come clean. This was too huge a thing. He couldn’t hide his shame, his betrayal. It wouldn’t be right. “You’ve been calling me ‘sir’. When we. And. And I thought that you just m-might like that now. But you called me Pierce. Said you belonged to Hydra. All this time, I was using you just like they did.”

“Shut up!” Bucky grabbed hold of Steve’s neck, forcing him to look Bucky in the face. The whites showed all around Bucky’s beautiful silver-blue eyes and Steve could feel the slight tremble in his hand. “You are nothing like them. Nothing. Do you hear me?”

As painful as Bucky’s grip was, Steve welcomed it. Leaned into it, even. The fact that Bucky was still even willing to touch him at all was a gift. That still didn’t stop him from saying what had to be said.

“You thought I was them. Whatever I was doing was similar enough that you couldn’t tell the difference.” The words tasted like rot in his mouth, but he still said them.

Bucky flinched like he’d been slapped, eyes closing as he breathed heavily. But he still held on to Steve. “I didn’t remember.”

Didn’t. But now he did.

Steve took a breath and paused to treasure the feeling of Bucky’s hands on him. After this it might never happen again.

“I liked it, too,” he said in a whisper. Awful shame filled him. If Steve could had had a gun right there he might have shot himself. He almost hoped Bucky would. “I’m as bad as they were.”

“Shut. Your fucking. Mouth.” Bucky’s voice was so rough it hurt to listen to. The faint clack-clack-clack of the plates on his arm recalibrating echoed around the room. A huge shudder raced through him and ended with him shaking his head. “Whatever happened to me is not your fault.”

“Maybe not, but this is---” Steve started.

“I said shut your fucking mouth! I’m talking. You listen.” Bucky leaned forward, almost to the point where their foreheads were touching, then he stalled out. Steve couldn’t find it in himself to stay still. He leaned forward, pressing their heads together. Maybe that was the right move, because Bucky shivered and pressed against him, and some of the tension left the hand on Steve’s neck. “You are nothing like them. You are the best, most beautiful, most wonderful person in the world. You said I deserve nice things, right? Well you are the nice thing that I want. The only nice thing I want.”

Now Bucky was looking at him, their eyes just inches apart. Nowhere to hide from the honesty in that gaze.

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice was soft and pleading. “I hurt you. I took advantage of you. You. You thought I was them.” Hot tears spilled down his cheeks.

“I didn’t remember. I just. I wanted to be touched so bad.” Bucky was crying, too. His other hand found Steve’s shoulder and held him close. “Something felt wrong, felt bad with us, but I didn’t remember. Now that I do, it still doesn’t matter. You hear me Rogers? It doesn’t fucking matter.” Bucky closed his eyes and sagged forward. “Please. Please don’t take away the one good thing in my life.”

“Buck…”

“No. You’re it. I don’t know how you fucking stand to touch me, but every time you do it’s the best part of my day. Please, Steve. Don’t leave me alone.”

Steve pulled Bucky close and held him as tightly as he could. The little noise of relief that Bucky made stabbed him right in the heart, and then Bucky was hugging him back.

It took a few minutes before Steve could try to talk again. Even when he did, he still didn’t let Bucky go. “We’re gonna have to talk about this. Find some way to-- to touch without throwing you out of your head. Some kind of check in or something.”

Because Steve couldn’t do this again. Didn’t ever want to take the place of Bucky’s abusers.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, voice cracking. “Yeah, we can do that. We can figure it out.”

They stayed pressed together for a long time, clinging to each other for comfort.