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This was the only time it could happen. All of the Avengers were either gone on missions or on leave. Steve had almost been apologetic when he'd told him to stay.

'Sit this one out Buck,' He'd said lightly, but Bucky could sense the strain in his voice. Steve knew that something was off with his friend. That he wasn't reliable.

That he needed something.

It was just wrong for Steve Rogers to assume that Bucky Barnes, after all this time, needed a little rest.

Bucky had had rest in Wakanda. He'd healed. Most of his past life was ghosts of bad memories that he was coming to terms with on the daily. He'd never be rid of them, but they no longer controlled him.

Not really.

But despite all that, this needed to be done.

So he allowed it. He smiled that cocky, patented Bucky Barnes smile that he knew melted Steve to the core and told him he had plenty in his Netflix queue to catch up on anyways.

Blue eyes shimmering, Steve had kissed him on the forehead (Sam had groaned, Bucky had stuck his tongue out at him), and then he, Sam, Wanda, and Vision had gone.

The compound was quiet. Almost too quiet.

Bucky allowed himself five minutes to breathe. It had to be now. Now or never. No one was home. It would be better when it was all over, he just knew it.

Hastily he scrambled to the quarters that he and Steve shared. There were two bedrooms, mainly for decorum. Ever since he had come home from Wakanda, they had always shared a bed. Not that it had always been sexual. That took time. And god, Steve treated him with kid gloves in that aspect.

It took him less than thirty seconds to close and lock the door to the part that contained his 'room', to shutter the blinds, and to strip the bed. This would be the easiest. This would be the least messy way.

He made quick work of rolling the sheet into a thin strip and slid from his t-shirt and sweats. In a way, it almost felt more natural to be naked. Quickly, he picked up his sheet and made his way to the closet.

It was a walk in closet because Tony Stark never did anything small, even though Bucky didn't have enough to fill up even a fifth of it. Nat was always trying to take him shopping, but he didn't feel comfortable in the open. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

At least now he could buy things without ever having to set foot out of the compound.

Internet. So helpful.

The only thing he had added to the closet was a pull up bar, strong enough for his weight. His new arm was much lighter than the one the Soviets had built, but was still pretty considerably heavy. Steve had laughed that he wanted the bar in there, after all, there were extensive gyms in the compound. But Bucky had glanced it off with mutterings that he didn't always want to work out around others and Steve had been sympathetic. Of course he had.

Steve never pushed.

Bucky grit his teeth.

He closed the closet door and looped the makeshift bed sheet rope around the pull up bar. He started to knot it and his fingers trembled.

Wait a minute. . .

"FRIDAY?" He called out tentatively.

He was awarded with an immediate Irish lilt. "How can I help you, Sergeant Barnes?"


Bucky licked his lips. "Are there cameras in this room?"

"As you are in the closet in your private quarters, there is no recording going on, Sergeant. The cameras only kick on when there might be a breach in security."

Bucky frowned. That wasn't exactly a no. "FRIDAY? This is kind of private. Can, can you maybe not record for a half hour?"

There is a moment of silence, and Bucky almost loses his nerve.

"Of course, Sergeant Barnes. Cameras off now."

A sigh of relief passed his lips. He had to do this now. He might not get another chance.

He kicked over a step stool and stood under the makeshift noose. He would never want anyone to see this. Stepping up, he pushed his head through the hole, and reached up to tighten the cloth around his neck. Once it was flush against his neck, he breathed out a sigh of relief.


Tentatively, he set one foot off of the step stool. His feet still touched the ground if he stood on his tip toes.. The pressure on his neck made him go taut.


His cock was swelling, and he reached down to stroke it with his flesh hand. Only three strokes and he was leaking. Without thinking, he stepped all the way off the stepstool.

It took him a moment to scrabble for purchase, awkwardly balancing on his toes. The lack of air made him feel light, but every pump in his fist set electric ripples up his spine.

Whore. Slut. Bitch. Was it his voice? A past handlers'? It was easy to imagine Rumlow saying those words. The dark haired man had always known how to get his body to sing.

With each stroke he could feel himself getting close. He strained at the bed sheet, closing his airway off completely. Like this, he could almost imagine a fist closed around his throat, subduing him, owning him-

His eyelids flickered-

There was a sharp electric sound and a smell of burning fabric, and suddenly, Bucky was sprawled on the floor. It took less than a second for him to jump up in a combative pose. Was the compound under attack? Why wouldn't FRIDAY tell him if it were?

Tony was standing right in the doorway of the closet, dressed impeccably in a suit and shades, just one glove from his armor on and raised.

"Oof, Manchurian Candidate. I never knew you were a kinkster."