Steve is railing him, hard, like they haven’t had the chance to for a bit, between missions and therapy and the team and life.
They’re almost always touching each other 24/7 now, if they’re at all in the same room; making up for lost time, making sure the other doesn’t somehow slip away.
And they are definitely exploring the gift of sexual knowledge that comes with the future, applying Steve’s diligence and Bucky’s precision to experiment with everything they learn.
But they like to have a nice block of time if they’re gonna really get into it like this, so they can let go and have a half dozen orgasms each and break some furniture.
Sometimes Bucky will have picked out the replacement piece of furnishing before they’ve even broken the old one, and God is that hot. Steve will watch him planning that poor thing’s demise and start to get amped up, knowing that Bucky’s plotting some super-soldier style fucking on and around that object soon, but not exactly how or when.
He hasn’t told Bucky he knows he does this, doesn’t want to jeopardize the process.
They’re on their bed, panting hard, Bucky on hands and knees with Steve’s big body draped over him. They’ve already gone one round, quick, to take the edge off, and Steve is clearly planning on seeing how much abuse the bed can withstand.
His arms lock Bucky in place as he pistons into him with the force of a machine.
Bucky loves when they get like this, no holding back, throwing their strength at each other in a way they can only take because they’re enhanced.
And what were the odds, what were the odds , that they would both end up enhanced, alive, and here, to do this?
Bucky grunts as Steve thrusts so hard he swears he feels it in his throat.
“Yeah? You like that?”
God, Steve had been so careful with him at first, afraid to be rough, and Bucky took perverse pride in driving the revered national icon to become an unhinged sex beast. Maybe he should suggest they update the display in the Smithsonian to mention Captain America’s unrivaled sexual prowess.
“Oh am I not fucking you hard enough? Let’s fix that.” Said national icon growls, before moving his hands to Bucky’s hips so he could pull back farther, almost all the way out, then slam back into him full force.
“FFuuu--” Without Steve’s arms locked on his, Bucky’s front half collapses, face in the mattress while Steve plows him relentlessly.
“That’s better.” Steve chuckles, having made him go wordless. “You close, Buck?”
“Yeah, hah-uh-uh-ah-fu-uh-uh-unh wha’ d’you think punk? Oh oh oh-”
Steve laughs again, a beautiful sound, and pulls all the way back, head caught just inside his rim. Then he stills.
“So, we should just end it here, right?”
“Hnnghhh! You fucker!” Bucky flails an arm blindly backward, slapping out at whatever parts of Steve he can reach. “Move, move damn you, c’mon, give it to me!”
“Well, if you’re sure….” Steve says with a shit-eating grin he can hear, and lets himself pop all the way out.
“Jesus! What’re you-” Bucky twists furiously to see, but before he can, Steve’s big hand pushes his head back down to the bed at the same time he plunges all the way back in, one stroke. Bucky screeches and there probably isn’t another person alive who can fuck like this, shit, he’s getting pounded and he’s going to come soon, and Steve shifts, fists his hand in his hair, and his knuckles press into the back of Bucky’s skull as he fucks him what has to be through the mattress.
The knuckles press and the grip on his hip tightens and it happens.
“Buck, God, I’m real close, you’re amazing, fuck, how do you wanna finish?” Steve grits out. His hips keep the pace, skin slapping lewdly. “You want me to stroke you or what?”
Getting no answer, he gathers Bucky’s hair into his fist and pulls his head up to look at him. “Tell me what you want, Buck, I’m-” He turns his face to read it, to kiss him, but he’s met with glassy eyes, slack jaw. “Shit, Bucky, fuck.”
He releases his head, which flops back to its previous position. Steve runs his hands down Bucky’s back.
He pulls out and scrambles around so he can face Bucky, who’s still holding position. “Talk to me Buck, what’s-”
The instant he rises to his knees in front of Bucky, he lunges and swallows down Steve’s still-hard cock.
“Bucky, no, Jesus fuck!”
Steve yanks his hair to pull him off but Bucky resists, sucking harder.
As soon as that familiar taste had hit his tongue, the tang of cock, ass, and lube, a switch had flipped on. He knew what was expected of him.
His body actually relaxes as he suctions onto Steve further, still unresponsive. Steve’s hands flail in total panic, he has no idea how to stop Bucky without hurting him; to let him continue feels obscene.
He tries to tug his head away, Bucky thrashes his head back and forth. “Okay Buck, Okay.” He soothes. He pets his hair and Bucky resumes sucking with a vengeance, like he has something to prove. Steve doesn’t want to think about that.
He clenches his teeth and tips his head back; apparently he has to ride this out.
He tries to think only of Bucky, push everything else to the side for now. They’ll figure this out. They always do.
He brings his head forward and strives to avoid Bucky’s staring eyes, to look only at his mouth, stretched around his cock. He’s always had a thing for Bucky’s pouty mouth, and seeing it wrap around his dick has never failed to get him off.
“I love you, Bucky.” He states firmly, in case anything is getting through to him. “I love you and I’m right here.”
He lets himself feel Bucky’s warm mouth, his tongue, the scrape of his teeth.
Bucky, it’s Bucky. Forget everything else.
Remember how grateful you are to have him. Remember how happy you are to have him like this.
So he pets his hair and watches those lips stretch wide, so pink, to suck him, Bucky’s mouth crammed full of Steve’s substantial cock and the sight still does it for him, he’d wanted it for so long.
Just as he’s about to come, Bucky shifts and Steve thinks he means to stop, but he sits back on his heels and angles Steve’s dick so he can work with his hands to ensure that Steve comes, all over his face.
Then he lowers his head and sits silently, as if waiting for something, small strings of come dripping slowly to the floor.
Steve clears his throat. What the hell does he do, here?
“Um, thank you, Bucky?
He looks up at him and squints, confused. “Did good?”
“Yes, Buck, you - you did real good. Do you think I could clean us up? Would that be alright?”
Slowly, Bucky nods, and takes Steve’s outstretched hand. He follows meekly to the bathroom where Steve gets them into the shower, begins cleaning Bucky gently, carefully.
He’s moved on to give himself a quick scrub when he hears Bucky cautiously say “Steve?”
“Yeah Buck, almost done.”
“H-how did we get here? I thought we were…” He trails off and scrunches his face up, looking baffled.
Steve sighs. “Let’s finish up here and get dressed, and then we can talk, okay Buck?”
“Okay Steve.” He agrees, though his stomach is churning with fear and turmoil.
“Has this happened, before, Buck?”
“I don’t know...I don’t think so...no...of course not.”
But he won’t meet Steve’s eyes and he is done with letting Bucky lie to him.
“Jesus fucking Christ Bucky! That means that we- That I- You-”
Steve covers his face with his hands and crumples to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Look, don’t make this a bigger deal than it has to be.”
Bucky’s approaching him placatingly, but all the marks that Steve had just enjoyed putting on his body scream out to him like brands now.
“A bigger deal -” Steve’s mouth works around words he can’t apparently form, before he tugs at his longer hair in frustration, punishment, grounding, pulling on both sides in a habit he unknowingly picked up from Bucky.
Steve looks up at him with tears on his face and in his beard and he looks like a drowned golden retriever, shaggy and sodden.
“ Bucky…” The word sounds like it’s forced from his mouth, pained and barely audible. “I feel like I raped you.”
“Steve, come on,” Bucky snaps harshly, running a hand through his hair, but stops when he feels the glare emanating from Steve. He hasn’t seen that level of pent up anger, recrimination, and self-loathing since Steve was tiny. “You don’t seriously think -”
“What else am I supposed to think?” Steve whispers, staring down at his big hands like they’re abhorrent objects, like he wants to cut them off.
Bucky sits next to him, carefully, Steve is really starting to scare him. He hadn’t been scared when the... incident ...had happened, more like, he’d dissociated. But seeing carefully controlled Steve lose it like this is making his gut roil with dread.
“How many times, Buck, has it happened, that I didn’t notice?” He grits out.
“Stevie-” Bucky starts, touching his arm, but Steve shakes him off, exploding.
“HOW! MANY! TIMES!” He slams both fists through the glass and chrome coffee table, shattering it. Glass and blood fly everywhere, random crap that was on the table scatters around them, rolling to parts unknown.
Steve whips around, looking crazed. His teeth are bared, eyes red and wide, and there is snot and tears and glass in his beard. “Answer me, Bucky Barnes. ” His voice is low and growling. “How. Many. Fucking. Times.”
Bucky can’t look away, Steve has him pinned by the force of his anger. His left arm crosses over his front, protectively. “Steve, I-”
Steve growls, actually growls, like a feral beast, and Bucky gulps and squeezes his eyes shut. “Two - at least two - maybe three, I….I don’t always remember -”
Steve is on his feet and his fist is through the drywall before Bucky knows what’s happening.
He looms over Bucky and Bucky flinches, and Steve gives him the most terrifying smile he’s ever seen. It reminds him of Zola, it’s all teeth and no warmth and only means bad things.
“See, afraid of your rapist.” Steve hisses and heads for the door.
“Steve, no! That’s not it at all! You need to calm down, talk to me, please!” He’s aware he’s lost all control of this situation, is pleading.
Steve does stop, hand braced against the door. His entire body is vibrating with rage, breaths heaving out of him.
“Steve?” Bucky takes a hopeful step towards him.
Steve pivots. “Don’t.” Bucky freezes.
“I can’t - “ Steve chokes. “I can’t be here right now.”
In that moment, he looks more like the Steve Bucky knows, weighed down by the world, carrying too much, and entirely, ineffably, sad.
“But you will,” Bucky asks, “you are coming back, right?”
Steve opens his mouth like he’s going to answer, grits his teeth, puts his entire head through the wall next to the door, slams through the door, and leaves.