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(You'll Be) the Death of Me

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(I hate everything about you)

I hate everything about you.

Bucky read the words once, twice, then crossed them out until they were unrecognizable under the black scrawl. He couldn’t write that. He didn’t hate everything about Steve. Not all the time.

He studied the page, then scribbled down another sentence.

I think we need some space.

There. That was true. They needed space. Or if Steve didn’t, Bucky did. He was starting to suffocate. Needed room to breathe. The way they’d been lately… It was too much. It had Bucky swinging up through the highest highs and back down through the lowest lows. Still, it was one thing to write it and another thing to say it out loud. Bucky knew how Steve would react. Steve would get angry. Explosive. Probably violent. There was no version of this where Steve didn’t lose his mind and do something stupid or dangerous, and it wasn’t worth the fallout. Things with Steve could’ve been worse. They weren’t exactly good, but they could’ve been worse.

He and Steve hadn’t started out this way. Their relationship had always been a little hot and heavy, but they had both been… Happy. When had everything started going downhill so fast? The first time Steve had called him useless? The first time Steve had hit him? The first time Steve had grabbed him so hard it bruised? Threatened Bucky with promises of self-inflicted harm? Slammed Bucky’s head against the wall and held a forearm into his throat until he could barely breathe? Fuck, it was all so screwed up, and Bucky was completely tangled in it. The worst part was, it didn’t matter what Steve said or did - Bucky kept all of it to himself. To protect them. To protect Steve. That domestic shit wasn’t anyone else’s business. It was messy as hell, and it made it damn hard for Bucky to function most of the time, but it wasn’t for anyone else to deal with. Those fights were between him and Steve.

When they weren’t fighting, they were fucking, and damn, Steve knew how to fuck. It was the best and worst part of their relationship, and it was only bad because it was so damn good. Bucky covered his eyes and took a deep breath. Just thinking about it made him feel as needy as he ever did, ready to beg Steve to take him wherever and however Steve wanted. It hadn’t started as an addiction, but Bucky couldn’t deny that it had become one. Bucky needed Steve. Needed Steve to want him. And nowadays, sex with Steve was the only thing that made Bucky feel worth anything at all.

The sound of the garage door opening had Bucky up and off his bed before he quite knew what he was doing, tucking the notebook under the mattress as he went. Even writing that they needed a break had him feeling guilty, somehow, like he was betraying Steve. Bucky wanted to make up for it. Wanted to prove his loyalty. Wanted to make it clear to Steve that he was in this for the long haul; till the end of the line, like they’d always promised. It had felt like a promise back then. Now, it felt more like a trap.

Bucky made it to the kitchen just as the door opened and Steve stepped inside.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, hanging up his keys and pulling the door closed behind him.

“Hey, Stevie.” Bucky smiled, thinking that Steve was a sight for sore eyes. He hated the way Steve’s fucking beautiful face made him feel better and worse all at the same time. “How was your day?”

“Long,” Steve replied, dropping his bag by the door and dragging a hand through his hair. Steve didn’t have to use product - those blonde locks just fell perfectly into place all on their own. “Yours?”

“Fine. Better now that you’re home.” Christ, he couldn’t even control the shit that came out of his own mouth.

“Did you make dinner?”

“No. I was thinkin’ we could go out.”

“I’d rather stay in.” Steve’s eyes grew dark, and they raked over Bucky’s body in a way that had saliva pooling in Bucky’s mouth.

“Yeah?” Bucky licked his lips. “We could order.”

Steve nodded in agreement, taking a step closer, looking every inch a predator stalking its prey. “Yeah. We could order.”

Bucky didn’t realize he was moving backward until he bumped up against the kitchen island.

Steve leaned forward, bracketing Bucky’s body with his arms. “Somethin’ else I’d like to do first.”

Bucky swallowed. “What-”

He barely got to finish the word before Steve’s lips met his, forcing his head back. It only lasted a second, but Christ, it made Bucky burn.

“Steve,” he started, not sure what the hell he wanted to say.

Steve rested one hand on Bucky’s chest, sliding it slowly upward over Bucky’s throat to tilt Bucky’s chin up. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low.

Steve leaned in to kiss him again, and this time Bucky opened his mouth and surrendered.


(Kiss with a Fist)

Steve kissed Bucky hard enough to bruise. There was nothing sweet or sexy about it. It was punishment, retribution for Bucky’s disobedience, although Bucky didn’t quite know what he’d done. Steve claimed Bucky’s mouth with deep strokes of his tongue, his hands gripping the back of Bucky’s shirt to pull it up and off. Bucky groaned, the top of the kitchen island digging into his bare back, the lip of the granite cold against his skin. He didn’t care; Steve was already working his jeans open, sliding them off with rough hands. The boxers went next, Steve’s palms grazing over Bucky’s ass as the fabric slid to the floor.

“Counter,” Steve instructed, and Bucky obeyed. He turned and stretched out, chest resting on the countertop. Bucky heard the sounds of fabric rustling and clothes hitting the tile, and then Steve was right behind him, hard cock pressing up against his ass.

“Fuck.” Bucky’s fingers reached and flexed, looking for something to grab onto as Steve breached his hole, a single digit going in dry. “Lube under the sink, Steve.”

Bucky half expected Steve to ignore him - they’d done it without lube plenty of times, especially before they’d started keeping lube in the glove compartment of Steve’s car. But Steve pulled away, and Bucky heard him rustling in the cabinet below the sink, then popping a cap open and snapping it shut. Bucky shifted the rest of his weight to his toes, biting his lip in anticipation. A few seconds later, Steve’s hand was back, and this time two slick fingers breached him easily, stretching and twisting and reaching until Bucky shuddered, his teeth digging further into his lip. Steve knew his body so well, it was unfair.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, adding a third finger. Two years ago, that would’ve been too much too fast. Now, Bucky was used to Steve’s size, even if Steve was fucking huge.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, pressing back into Steve’s fingers. Steve took another minute to work him open, sliding torturously over Bucky’s prostate just often enough to set his teeth on edge.

Steve didn’t ask if Bucky was ready. He slid his fingers out in one swift motion, lining his cock up with Bucky’s entrance. Bucky pressed back again, urging Steve to move. Normally, Steve would’ve given Bucky a hard time for being needy; Steve must’ve really needed it too, if he was too focused to poke fun.

Steve’s cock pushed past that tight ring of muscle, and then Steve slid home, filling Bucky completely. Shit. That stretch was perfect. When Steve didn’t move right away, Bucky tried to encourage him, tilting his hips. “C’mon, Stevie. Need you.”

Steve growled under his breath. He set up a slow rhythm, just fast enough to keep Bucky from whining for more. Fingers dug into Bucky’s sides, hard enough to leave marks, and damn it, it felt good. Bucky loved Steve hanging onto him and holding him in place, loved Steve’s cock moving in and out of him, splitting him open. Nothing else compared to this. Fuck, it was so good, Bucky would’ve done anything for it.

“Beautiful.” Steve hummed, then tugged at Bucky’s hair. “So tight for me, so perfect.”

“Ah,” Bucky groaned. Fuck fuck fuck. Bucky loved being told how good he was, and Steve knew it. Exploited it.

The rest was a blur of movement and pain crossed with pleasure. First Bucky was face down on the counter; then he was seated on the counter, legs around Steve’s waist; then Steve was hauling him into the living room and easing them both down to the floor until Bucky ended up with his arms braced on the carpet, ass in the air. It was one of Steve’s favorite positions, and Bucky understood why. He practically yowled when Steve thrust into him this time. That angle was incredible. It sent sparks all the way to Bucky’s toes, and he groaned, nails digging into the carpet to brace himself against the force of Steve’s thrusts.

Steve crowded closer, curling himself over Bucky, his chest against Bucky’s back. One big hand held Bucky’s hip in place; the other wrapped around his cock. Bucky fucked into that tight grip, desperate for more friction, aching to move faster to match Steve’s pace. Shit. Bucky wasn’t going to last. And if Steve didn’t get something to put under him, he was going to come all over the carpet.

“Stevie. Gonna make a mess.”

“Don’t care,” Steve growled in his ear. “Just wait for me.”

“Ah,” Bucky gasped, because damn it, he was so close, he didn’t know if he could wait; but if he didn’t, Steve would probably punish him for it later. “Steve, ’m so close-”

“I know,” Steve said, pumping in and out with brutal efficiency, dragging over Bucky’s prostate with every stroke. “I’m almost there.”

Bucky screwed his eyes shut and breathed through his nose, his teeth clenched, every muscle screaming for release.

“Oh - Bucky, yes, oh, shit.” Steve’s hips jerked once, then twice, and then Steve was coming, pulsing hot into Bucky and pressing him down into the carpet.

Bucky finally let go, tumbling straight over the edge. “F-fuck,” he gasped, coming so hard he saw stars. He dropped his head down, forehead pressed against the carpet, trying to adjust to Steve’s weight on top of him. “Fuck,” he said again, trying to catch his breath. Damn it. Why did the sex have to be so good?

Steve nodded in agreement, hiding his face in Bucky’s shoulder, then kissing along Bucky’s neck. Bucky moved his head to give Steve better access, shivering when Steve dropped soft kisses behind his ear.

“Love you,” Steve said against Bucky’s skin.

Bucky couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh or cry. He took a few deep breaths. “Yeah, Stevie. Love you too.”


(Love the way you Lie)

It happened every time Bucky tried to start the conversation. Steve would make things physical. Sexual. He’d crowd close and palm Bucky’s cock, or drop kisses along Bucky’s throat until Bucky was aching and begging for it. Steve had even sucked Bucky off under the kitchen table just to get Bucky to shut up. It had been a week, and Bucky hadn’t gained any ground. And he knew Steve didn’t like being interrupted while he was getting ready, but maybe distracted, Steve would actually listen. Anyway, it was worth a shot.

“Hey, Steve.”

Steve was looking in the mirror, adjusting his hair and alternating between spray and gel.

Bucky swallowed down his nerves, trying to sound casual. “Steve. Can we talk?”

There. You’ve asked the question. It was more than Bucky had done in a long time. Steve was too stubborn to talk to, most of the time. But this time, what Bucky had to say was too important to leave off the table.

Steve kept his eyes trained on his own reflection in the mirror, hands focused on shaping his hair. “Bucky, I don’t have time right now. I have to get ready.”

Of course. Bucky had worked up the courage to start the damn conversation, had picked the right moment specifically to get Steve to answer, and Steve was blowing him off.

“Stevie. I just… It’s important.” When Steve didn’t answer, Bucky took a step forward, resting a hand on Steve’s arm. Steve jerked away, and Bucky froze, nearly biting off his own tongue.

“I said no, Buck.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Are you stupid?” Shit, that stung. It wasn’t anything new, but it still hurt whenever Steve did it. “What part of it don’t you understand? I’m getting ready. I’m busy. I can’t talk now.”

“But Steve, I-”

“Bucky.” Steve shot him a warning look. “Don’t push it. Okay?”

“Ain’t tryin’ to push.” Bucky crossed his arms, staring at the ground. “Just… Want you to listen t’me, is all.”

Steve turned over his shoulder. “Are you honestly saying I don’t listen to you?” Steve set the can of hairspray down hard on the dresser. “What about all the times I let you complain to me about work, huh? And what about the times I’ve listened to you talk about your shitty family situation and your terrible past relationships?” Steve scoffed, returning his attention to the mirror. “Don’t try to tell me I don’t listen.”

“You ain’t listenin’ now.”

Steve turned again, and Bucky was convinced Steve was about to hit him. He shrank back, regretting asking the question in the first place, wishing he could take it back.

“I am listening. And you know what I’m hearing? I’m hearing you try to interrupt my prep for an evening I’ve been planning for months.”

Bucky swallowed down guilt, glancing up at Steve in apology before looking away. “Not tryin’ to-”

“Doesn’t matter if you’re trying, Buck, you’re still doing it. You have no idea how important this is to me.”

That wasn’t fair. “Yes I do.” Bucky wanted to sound angrier than he did. His felt furious, but his voice was weak.

“Then you’ll understand why I think you shouldn’t come.”

Bucky took a step back, stunned. “What?”

Steve’s expression hardened. “The people at this dinner? I need to impress them. I can’t afford anything like this. I can’t have you embarrassing me.”

Fuck. Bucky hated how that knocked the breath out of him. Embarrass? Steve was full of shit. Bucky would never make Steve look bad, not in a thousand years. Steve should’ve known that. Bucky wanted to grab Steve by the shoulders and shake him. In the end, all he managed was, “Fine. Go without me, then.” Bucky unbuttoned his own suit jacket and let it drop to the floor, then yanked his tie loose and tossed it aside. “You’re obviously better off without me, right?”

“If you keep acting like this, maybe.”

Bucky wanted to scream. He settled for clenching his fists, nails digging into his palms. He didn’t know whether Steve beating him up was actually any worse than this. Steve made him feel like less than nothing. And Bucky let Steve do it. All this power Steve had over him, Bucky handed it over without a fight.

“I have to finish getting ready,” Steve continued. “Can you stay out of my way for ten minutes?”

Bucky swallowed against the hot sting of tears. Crying in front of Steve didn’t do a damn bit of good anyway. “Yeah. Sure.”

When Steve emerged from the bedroom in his suit and bowtie, Bucky barely glanced in his direction.

“Alright,” Steve said straightening his jacket. “I’ll see you later.”

Steve disappeared into the kitchen. Footsteps, then the sound of the door closing loudly behind him. Bucky heard the garage door open and the engine start, then saw the headlights as Steve pulled out of the garage and drove off.