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S is for Steve Rogers is a Little Shit

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Here’s a funny thing that Bucky knows, that the rest of the world seems completely oblivious of: Steve Rogers is a little shit. They’ve been friends since they were practically out of diapers, and yet everyone’s always assumed that Bucky is the troublemaker in that friendship of theirs. It isn’t his fault if he has a mischievous little smirk, or charisma that could charm the pants off even the strictest nun at their school. Bucky just has a way with people because people don’t scare him; never have.

It’s not like Steve’s scared of people either – he just has a different way about him. Bucky’s sure it’s because he’s always been small; short and scrawny, with a mess of golden hair and eyes that can go big and wide and innocent. It’s all an illusion, of course. It’s total bullshit. Bucky isn’t an idiot, and he knows that Steve knows what he’s doing. Being trapped in a body that’s so easily broken by sickness or unforgiving fists, having a class-A personality but never getting noticed by a dame – it doesn’t exactly leave a fella with a lot of weaponry in their arsenal.

So Steve’s always utilized what he does have: angelic features to match his Boy Scout persona. A persona, by the way, which is just as much misleading as that ‘angelic’ façade. Because sure, Steve may look like less of a hellion than Bucky, and he’s always the first to help a little old lady with her bags, and has always been the last to leave any dinner table until he’s helped clear all the dishes away – and Bucky isn’t discrediting any of that. All of that is on the level, honest. Bucky’s always been Steve’s biggest supporter, save for his ma. He’ll be the first to tell someone all the greatest qualities of Steve’s character and Bucky isn’t a fibber – if he’s arguing for them, they’ve got to be true.

But who’s the one who’s always getting himself into scraps in back alleys? Who’s the one who on a daily basis seems to come up with the absolute worst hair-brain plans? Who thought it’d be a good idea to sneak onto the roller coaster at Coney Island even though they were both considered ‘too short’? And then who thought it’d be okay to go ralph over in the grass when the ride made them feel sick, only to have barfed all over some of the daisies the park had been trying to grow to spruce things up a bit?

Ask the world and their first guess would be Bucky. They’re always quick to say it has to be Bucky – because look at Steve Rogers, he’s so small and says all of his prayers and attends Church every Sunday and actually pays attention.

Bucky has the habit of falling asleep sometimes. But that doesn’t make them any less wrong.

Steve is the greatest guy Bucky’s ever known – sharp as a whip and smart as all Hell. He’s got a heart that Bucky’s sure was shaped from gold and sometimes, Bucky’s not fully convinced that he doesn’t have a pair of wings hiding beneath the loose fabric of his shirts.

But that does not mean that he’s also not always checking to see where exactly Steve’s hiding those Devil’s horns of his, either. Because Steve is all of those great things, but he’s also the world’s biggest shit and he’s always getting Bucky into trouble.

And Bucky doesn’t mind one bit, because God, is he ever fucking in love with that boy.



Not that he’s ever explicitly told Steve, of course. Not like that; not in the sappy, romantic way. Yeah, he’s said it from one buddy to another, or those (horrible) times where pneumonia or what-have-you had them both thinking that any breath could be Steve’s last. He always sort of meant it the way lovers do, but that was his secret to die with. He never gave Steve any other reason to believe that he was sweet on him – he (or worse, Steve) could get into real bad trouble if he did – and besides, Bucky was always about 99.9% certain that Steve wasn’t like that anyways.

He knows this from experience – limited, albeit, but experience nonetheless.

Bucky likes girls just as much as he likes the fellas. But he isn’t some sort of sexual floozy – the more people you sleep around with, the less respected you are. And dames don’t want to go dating some shmuck who’s stuck his dick into every hole he can fit it into (fun as that would be). Bucky’s never even kissed a guy, much less been with one. All he’s ever had are unholy thoughts, but thoughts are safer than actions, right?

Bucky’s far from a prude and he’s by no means a virgin. But he hasn’t slept with nearly as many people as those who know him have always thought, and it’s something he’s never really confirmed nor denied. He’s just never really been the type to get sucked up in the neighbourhood gossip, and he knows the gals he’s dated could always confirm just what sort of fella he is (he’s always made sure to end things as gently as possible), and that’s all he needs to know.

The point is, appearances can be – and often are – deceiving. Steve’s is just as deceiving. Now, Steve may not luck out nearly as much as Bucky does but it’s not like he’s never been around a pair of lips before. Steve couldn’t get himself a date if his life depended on it, but Bucky’s lucky in that he’s always had pull. He has a good reputation for treating a girl to a good time, so talking his way into saddling Steve with a date of his own has never been overly difficult. Getting the date to be interested is an entirely different ballgame, mind you (for reasons Bucky will never understand). But that doesn’t mean there’s never been anyone who was a little curious.

To Bucky’s knowledge (and that, of course, means based off what Steve’s told him), Steve’s kissed a small handful of girls before. And Bucky just wants his best friend to be happy, so he never lets it make him jealous (a lot, not much, not really). He’s never once gotten the impression that his best friend had a wandering eye for those of a more masculine nature, so – to Bucky – that was that. No use wrecking a friendship or making things awkward when there’d be no chance in Hell anyways.


Well, yes. Appearances can be fucking deceiving.

Bucky should’ve really known better.

Because he of all people knows just how much of a sneaky fucker Steve really is; how his innocent and naïve demeanour is but only that. There’s always been so much more that lies beneath the surface. Just because Steve’s never had sex, or gotten even close, has never meant that the kid wasn’t intrigued; didn’t mean Steve didn’t want it. If the people at their Church knew how many times Steve had admitted to listening to Bucky fooling around with whatever girlfriend he had at the time – if they only realized how many times Bucky would answer questions about the hows, wheres, and tips, along with going over his own experiences in detail, because Steve asked him to – they probably wouldn’t even be able to believe it.

Bucky guesses that Steve would be having it night and day if the opportunity was presented to him. The truth is, sometimes it seems like Steve’s even hornier than Bucky – and Bucky’s fighting off stiffies about twenty-three out of twenty-four hours a day sometimes, it feels like. It’s times where that rears its head – Steve being too curious, putting Bucky into a position that makes it real tough not to imagine doing those things with his best friend – that Bucky worries he might be giving too much away.

Things like… staring at Steve’s mouth for too long, or realizing he’s getting hard in his pants before (not-so-subtly) finding something to cover his lap with. He has a disgusting habit of falling a little more in love with his best friend every time the artist gets lost in his sketches. Bucky’s never seen anyone so enthralled in their own passion like Steve gets when he draws; Bucky’s always been able to empathize with that little place Steve goes in his head because Steve enthralls Bucky just as much. The problem is that he tends to get that little spaced-out, adoring smile – just sits there and stares for way too long. If Steve notices, he pretends not to say anything. When he’s being honest with himself, Bucky worries himself sick that Steve actually notices far more often than he’d ever admit. But it’s easier living in denial because it’s so cozy there, and nothing has to get weird or fucked up.

He just comforts himself in knowing that Steve isn’t like that, so Bucky doesn’t have to say anything. As long as he doesn’t say anything, or do anything stupid to give himself away, he can deny any accusation, any question.

But that only really worked for so long because… again, Bucky should have known better. And he isn’t sure at what point Steve figured it out, but he must’ve - because there’s no other explanation for why he’d be doing this. Bucky’s on the couch in their shitty living room, getting pretty lost in the feeling of Janice’s lips against his. She isn’t his girlfriend – not yet, though he’s been slowly working her up to it for the past few weeks – and usually, surprise world, Bucky doesn’t tend to take things even this far until he’s become official with a dame. But he’s only human, he’s been extremely horny lately, and Janice is apparently the type of girl who doesn’t mind doing this sort of thing with guys she isn’t going steady with. He fucks his tongue into her mouth and tells himself he’ll evaluate that tidbit of information later; figure out whether he wants to get involved with that seriously or not.

He hadn’t invited her over with the intention of taking her to his room, but it’s starting to look like that’s where things are headed. Bucky knows it’s a horrible thing to do to a lady – definitely the sleaziest thing he ever partakes in – but the only reason he even sleeps with anyone in the apartment he shares with Steve is because he knows Steve likes to listen from the privacy of his own bedroom. Bucky always feels a little guilty about it when he sees the girl home, and because he and Steve have spoken about it, he knows that Steve feels like shit about it too on some level. Gentlemen don’t do sneaky shit like that, and the girls Bucky’s slept with deserve better.

But Steve likes to listen because it’s something lacking in his own life, and Bucky pretends he doesn’t mind because he’s just trying to help out his pal. Really, Bucky loves it just as much because the idea of Steve with his hand wrapped around his dick and getting off to the sounds he and his girl are making always gets him coming real hard. Sometimes, he’ll be extra enthusiastic just in the hopes that he’ll hear some sort of groan or grunt from the other side of the wall.

(He never does because Steve’s not a moron; they both know they’d get caught if he was anything but silent.)

Steve had left the apartment to go grab a shower when Janice had first showed up. He said he would ‘give them some privacy’. That had confused Bucky because usually, he’d just go hang out in his room from the get-go so that the dame wouldn’t even know he was home. That made Steve’s listening an easier task. But Bucky hadn’t thought much on it once Janice’s hand was kneading his dick from over his slacks and making little breathy whimpering noises into his mouth between kisses.

With the way the couch is positioned, there’s a perfect view of the front door and the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Janice has her back facing that direction, with Bucky sitting in front of her. She’s got her lips attached to his neck and seems to be in the process of branding him with a pretty impressive love-bite – when Steve silently comes back into the apartment.

Bucky’s eyes are closed and he’s letting out the smallest of little moans at the suction when he senses the new addition. He opens his eyes and locks his gaze with Steve… who’s staring at them with absolutely no shame. The blond is naked save for a towel around his hips that hangs down just below his knees. His hair is damp and messy and he still has a few droplets of water clinging to his skin. Bucky wants to lick them all off of him, one by one.

Now, Steve may be a closet horndog, but any time he stumbles across Bucky actually being intimate with a girl – even if it’s kissing – he usually still turns a pretty adorable shade of red, because there are still things he needs to learn and he is still wholly inexperienced. Hearing is not the same as seeing, and seeing is usually enough to bring back a sliver of embarrassment to Steve’s features. Usually he’ll mouth ‘sorry’ (for interrupting) and then tiptoe away as quickly – and as quietly – as he can.

But here they are, making eye contact from across the room while Bucky has Janice sucking his neck as though her life depended on it, and Steve isn’t turning away. In fact, Steve doesn’t look surprised or startled at all. And he isn’t blinking and he isn’t looking away from Bucky’s face.

It’s easily one of the sneakiest and hottest things Bucky’s ever done – but in terms of intimate moments, this suddenly seems to take the cake. In this second, he’s sharing this with Steve, and he tries not to let it show how badly he wishes Steve was in Janice’s place; but it’s also difficult not to have that sort of thing get conveyed when he’s locking eyes with his best friend and his pupils are dilated as fuck.

He doesn’t understand why Steve isn’t leaving. He doesn’t get why Steve’s looking at him the way he is right now. But when Bucky moans again, it isn’t because of the way Janice is biting down on the flesh of his neck – it’s because he’s suddenly noticed the erection making the towel around Steve’s waist jut out. Steve’s eyes trail down, seeing where Bucky is staring, and instead of getting self-conscious about it, he just looks down at the bulge concealed beneath his towel and gets the tiniest of knowing smirks. When he tilts his head back up and makes eye contact with Bucky again through his impossibly long lashes, one of his eyebrows is arched coyly.


Bucky’s heart is racing so quickly that he feels like he could pass out. He’s completely busted – Steve’s figured it out, why else would he be looking at him like that right now? – but Steve is also rock-hard beneath that towel and Janice still doesn’t even fucking know he’s there yet. Bucky opens his mouth as if he was planning on actually saying something, because apparently he’s an idiot whose brain has completely fled him now that he’s getting sucked back into Steve’s gravitational pull again.

Steve saves the day, if you could call it that. Before any sound can push past Bucky’s lips, Steve’s lifting his hand and holding one single finger to his own. Shh… Baby blues slowly look away as if in thought and then Bucky watches Steve give him what looks like a small apologetic smile as he turns around to sneak away.

Steve could have just ended it there and they could’ve fallen back into their usual routine, but of course he doesn’t. Because Steve Rogers is a little shit and he’s a mouth-watering fucking tease.

What he does do is turn his back to Bucky and then casually pull the towel from around his waist, exposing his entire backside. He bundles the towel in his hands and starts to silently walk down the hall, and Bucky’s seen Steve’s bare ass a million times growing up, but this is different because this is a fucking offering if Bucky’s ever seen one. And Steve, skinny as he may be, has an ass like a goddamn peach. Bucky would swear off dames for life if he could just sink his teeth nice and deep into those cheeks even once.

Steve glances over his shoulder at him. Oh yes, he knows exactly what sort of Hell he’s putting Bucky through right now, and he smirks, the smug bastard. He’s just about to round the corner into his bedroom but he’s still not quite out of sight yet, and at that moment, Janice seems to pick up on the fact that Bucky’s no longer fully in the room with her. She pulls back and he thinks he hears her saying his name like a question, but his eyes are still glued on Steve. It isn’t until he realizes that she’s starting to turn her head quizzically in that direction that he snaps back to himself.

He grabs her face and crushes his lips to hers just in the nick of time. When he pops open one eye, he sees Steve standing in the doorway, and for a second, they’re just looking at each other again, with Steve’s biting his plush bottom lip at the sight. Then he disappears into his bedroom and shuts the door without a sound.

What Bucky wants to do is make an excuse to get Janice to leave so he can book it into Steve’s room and pin that asshole down to his bed and make him pay for being such a little shit. Lord knows that’s what he feels he should do – and after that, Bucky’s no longer 99.9% sure that Steve isn’t that way and only likes the ladies. He’s no longer 99.9% sure that if he did go straight into his room and push Steve against the wall so he could drop to his knees and take Steve’s dick into his mouth, that Steve would make him stop because Buck, I don’t see you like that.

The problem is that it’s not just Bucky’s dick that wants Steve; it’s his heart, too. And the emotional side of things could get messy if there was still any chance that Bucky could be misreading the signals. Truth be told, Bucky’s completely terrified of getting himself hurt if he really did let himself be vulnerable, only for Steve to reject him. The idea alone is enough for him not to tell Janice to leave, and for him not to go running straight for Steve’s bedroom.

Bucky knows it’s not right, but within minutes, he’s got Janice in his room, on his bed, and her dress is pushed up and her bloomers are yanked down, and she’s got her legs wrapped around his head. Bucky loves eating girls out because they taste so good on his tongue and the sounds they make while he’s doing it might as well be music. But right now, he’s trying to imagine what it’d sound like if he had his mouth on Steve, while also trying to make Janice scream harder than any girl he’s had before, just so he can put on a good show for Steve (who Bucky knows is still listening intently on the other side of the wall).

He wiggles his tongue against her clit until she comes, and she does indeed scream (his name, specifically). Then she shoves him down and they finish removing each other’s clothes. She straddles him with her ass near his face so she can start sucking him off, which gives Bucky both the perfect angle to finger her while she does, while also not having to look at her while she’s at it. He closes his eyes and thinks of Steve, and grits his teeth so hard that his temples throb in order not to say his name out loud.

Before she can make him finish, she stops and asks him if he has any rubbers. Of course he does – Bucky would never risk knocking a dame up, no way in Hell – and he also starts to feel a little less guilty about doing this with Janice with Steve listening in, because he’s getting the feeling more and more that this isn’t exactly a first-time occurrence for this chick. She helps him get the condom on with an expertise that only seems to reaffirm this, and Bucky’s more than a little thankful he figured this out before he actually did invest anymore time in trying to make them an item.

Janice apparently likes to do all the work. Fine by Bucky; he has no problem lying there and just watching while she smoothly slides herself up and down his cock and fucks herself on it. She’s hot and wet, but Bucky can't help but wonder just how many other fellas she's done this with... Still, sex is sex and it may not be the best Bucky’s ever had but it’s still good. Janice has a fantastic body but once again it’s Steve that Bucky’s thinking about. Keeping him in mind, Bucky still puts in the effort to groan extra loud. He’s so invested in making this good for Steve that he puts a little too much effort into the panting, and actually has to stop himself when it starts to make him lightheaded. When Janice comes again about twenty minutes later, she throws her head back and digs her nails into Bucky’s chest. He has his eyes closed and imagines it’s Steve raking those thin pink lines down his skin, and he almost slips and says the wrong name when his turn happens upon him.

They don’t do much talking after they’re done; just light up a couple of cigarettes and make small chit chat. Janice says she has to go meet up with a friend, to Bucky’s relief. She gets dressed and makes no comments about potentially meeting up again, and normally that’d make Bucky feel a bit offended, but right now, he’s just as bad because he wants her to get the Hell out of there so he can go talk to Steve. He isn’t sure what exactly he’s going to say yet – just that he has to say something.

He finally sees her out and then heads for Steve’s bedroom door. He knocks but gets no response, so he turns the knob and walks right in. He stops dead in his tracks, lingering in the doorway.

Steve’s sprawled out on his bed with one hand wrapped around his dick and two fingers buried to the knuckles in his ass. And Steve doesn’t even jump or make to cover himself at being interrupted. He just looks to Bucky and pauses the movements of his hands for a single second before continuing at a slower pace.

And appearances can be more than deceiving, because for all of Bucky’s smooth-talking, the only thing he can think to say as his eyes glue themselves to Steve’s slightly stretched asshole is: “You haven’t come yet…” Because that’s what he’s used to, so it only made sense that he’d thought the blond would’ve been finished by the time he’d walked in.

Steve just keeps his eyes on Bucky’s face and casually replies, “Wanted to wait.”

Bucky swallows hard. He still can’t seem to look away from where Steve’s fingering himself, and he can feel his pulse in his ears. He’d only just come no more than ten minutes before but this is enough to get the blood flowing back to his dick again and giving it signs of life. “For…?” he asks, and he’s so breathless and everything’s starting to spin and he doesn’t even sound like himself.

Steve bites his lip; knows exactly what he’s doing when he stops the pace of his thrusting fingers so he can give them one real deep push into his body, just because he knows Bucky’s enjoying the show. Whatever he does with them in there, Bucky doesn’t know, but it suddenly pulls a mewl from Steve’s throat that makes Bucky groan helplessly.

“For you to stop being an idiot,” Steve gasps, voice like sandpaper.

If ever there was a time to grow a pair of balls and man up, this was it. Bucky doesn’t even have to think twice before he’s crossing the room and surging over Steve, grabbing the side of his face and slamming their mouths together. It’s a little too forceful and their noses bump painfully, but he can feel how Steve’s fingers start pumping inside of himself faster and Steve makes a small whimpering sound in his throat the second Bucky’s body is crowding over his. When he exhales, “Finally” as Bucky’s tilting his face to the other side, Bucky shuts him up by shoving his tongue into Steve’s mouth. He tastes as sweet and perfect as Bucky had always imagined he would.

Things don’t exactly go smoothly that night. Bucky had always fantasized how flawless their first time would be if ever the universe were to spin off its axis and he was lucky enough to have a first time with Steve Rogers. No one jacks it to pornographic thoughts of gagging so much on the other’s cock that you have to take a five-minute breather to make sure you don’t accidentally puke and ruin the whole thing. No one thinks, Man, it’d sure be hot to have such shaking hands that when I’m fumbling with the jar of Vaseline, I scoop out enough to squirm across the floor like a slug and then drop the jar to the floor and have to pick it up because ‘Bucky, that’ll stain the carpet!’”

Nah, Bucky’s never exactly gotten his rocks off to that before. He had always fantasized that sleeping with Steve would be an effortless experience in which they both knew exactly what to do and everything would be steamy and passionate and go off without a hitch.

It doesn’t go off without a hitch – but it also isn’t any less steamy or passionate. It also isn’t anything short of perfect, even with its imperfections. They bump noses more and their teeth clack together way too much, and yeah, Bucky had tried a little too hard to prove the blowjob skills he hadn’t even once acquired yet. He’d had to pull back when his gag had been a full-body shudder, and then sit there with his head in his hands, trying to push down the lingering gagging feeling that threatened to make him get sick, while Steve chuckled and rubbed his back and kissed along his shoulder.

But he also gives it a second go, and nothing goes wrong this time. He discovers the taste and feel of Steve on his tongue – just how crazy the taste of precome makes him in the best way possible – and they find out together how Steve’s favourite place to have Bucky sucking is right around his cockhead (with just a little flicker of the tongue beneath the underside where it meets the rest of the length). Bucky learns that he loves to swallow.

When it’s Steve’s turn to try it on Bucky, he has to take it slower so he doesn’t work himself into an asthma attack. Bucky almost kicks him off the bed laughing when they discover that Bucky’s balls are extremely sensitive – and how Steve trying to suck on them will only send Bucky into a hysterical bout of laughter that gets him flailing like a child being tickled. Steve learns that he doesn’t want to swallow, and they’re both grossed out when he grabs one of their shirts (they can’t tell whose it is in the dark) and spits.

It’s far from ‘magical’ but it’s still them to a T. Steve goes insane at having Bucky put his fingers into him, and they never would’ve guessed in a million years that their lips go so nicely together. Bucky thinks he likes the kissing part the best because Steve’s mouth is where all of those beautiful sounds come from and he likes swallowing them like candy about as much as he likes the taste of Steve’s tongue rubbing against his. For a guy who’s barely had experience in that area, Steve proves to be a great kisser; probably the best Bucky’s ever had.

Steve’s sensitive area turns out to be his ass, when Bucky tries putting his tongue on it. Steve attempts to keep still - but then he’s giggling and kicks his right foot out, digging the heel into Bucky’s side and making Bucky curse in pain. Steve apologizes about a dozen times and offers to try again, and when they do, this time Steve focuses on his breathing and his chuckles turn into soft moans, and his occasional spasms turn into something of an entirely different nature. Together, they work through their first time and figure out how exactly they’re supposed to do things. And it’s funny, because even though the build up is filled with its share of awkward and less-than-perfect moments – because at the end of the day, they’re still two boys with absolutely no idea what the fuck they’re doing when it comes to this kind of sex – their bodies seem to fall into a knowing tandem the second Bucky finally gets inside of Steve.

Bucky’s hands shake so badly that it takes him several tries to get the condom on. There’s far too much slick and by the time Steve’s gotten past the discomfort and Bucky’s actually able to move within him, they can’t at first help but giggle like the immature losers they are at the obscene sounds coming from where Bucky’s sliding in and out of him. But then he starts grazing Steve’s prostate and the blond’s breathy laughter abruptly cuts off into a deep, throaty moan – one that has his eyes rolling into his head, his head that he’s tossing back into his pillow. Bucky watches him with parted lips and wide eyes, and then he doesn’t have to think at all, he just lets his body guide him. Their bodies know better; meld and move together as though they’ve been doing this every day for their whole lives.

Being inside of Steve is, at this point, like being inside of any girl Bucky’s ever been with, only better. Steve is on his back, granting Bucky access to just lean down and claim his mouth again if he so chooses to. And he chooses to, a lot. Almost the entire time they make love, in fact. Steve’s the tightest squeeze Bucky’s ever pushed into, and he has to shut his eyes tightly and shake his head a few different times to try and literally shake off the urge to come too soon. They keep the volume of their moans contained to the small space around them, but when Steve surprises Bucky by wrapping his limbs around his body and then flipping them over so Steve’s on top, Bucky lets out a sharp, short cry of surprise. Then Steve rides him, and Jesus fucking H. Christ, you’d think the kid had done this before. All Bucky can do is grab his hips and stare up at him with his jaw hanging open and his heart bursting apart, pouring all the love he feels for this little shit into every cell in his body.

When Steve gets close, he puts a hand on himself. Bucky just covers it with his own and helps jerk him off. He wants to make Steve come so bad; that’s all he wants, that’s all he’s ever wanted for years. And Steve’s got his eyes closed and his head tipped back, elongating his beautifully long neck, and he’s panting softly and gasping every time Bucky’s cock grazes the sweet spot inside of him. When he breathes out Bucky’s name, Bucky has to think of baseball to stop himself from erupting before Steve gets the chance.

“Tell me you love me,” Steve suddenly whispers; eyes still closed, face still pointed towards the ceiling.

Bucky’s heart – burst open and all – now leaps into his mouth and he can’t be sure he heard that correctly.

“What?” he pants. God, he’s so fucking close.

“I know you love me, you asshole,” Steve smiles, the tone of his voice sounding sweet and thick like syrup. He’s just as high off of the pleasure as Bucky is. And it’s true – shit, Bucky can’t deny that. How long has Steve known? Why didn’t the fucker ever say anything until now? “Just say it,” Steve continues, pulling him from his thoughts.

God, he’s pushy. He’s always been pushy; another thing no one else seems to notice about Steve. In this moment, Bucky’s glad of it – because it gives him the courage to reach up and grab the back of Steve’s neck so he can pull him down and kiss him again.

“I love you,” he admits out loud for the very first time, lips pushed to Steve’s. The confession makes Steve whimper embarrassingly loud, as if he hadn’t just told Bucky to say it.

“Again,” Steve says.

“I love you.”

“Oh God, Bucky…”

Fuck, fucking fuck. Bucky stills Steve’s hips with his hands so he can take over; keep that scrawny body in place while he starts fucking himself up and pounding into Steve hard enough to break up Steve’s moans into staccato stutters while still being mindful not to hurt him. Steve whines his name again and jerks himself off faster, and Bucky gets only the first letter of his name out when Steve cries out “I love you.”

Bucky’s back arches and he shouts a curse far louder than he should. Inside of Steve, he goes achingly hard and then shoots off into the condom; orgasm so powerful that his face scrunches up with his mouth still petered open while he gasps and makes a string of fucked-out sounds. Seconds later, he hears a needy little grunt and a wobbly whimpering sound as his chest gets streaked in hot semen. When Bucky opens his eyes, he discovers that night that the most stunning sight on God’s green earth is Steve Rogers when he comes.

They’re both covered in sweat and climax, and it’s a little gross and uncomfortable, but they’re too tired to clean themselves up right away. Bucky shyly asks if Steve would mind maybe wiping up the shit off Bucky’s chest with his fingers and letting Bucky lick them clean, because yeah, it took no time at all for him to learn that he really fucking enjoys the taste of come. He’ll never be able to eat a girl out again without pining for this instead. Steve just gives him that little gleaming smirk again and does it, and Bucky moans quietly around his fingers as he laps it all up, every last drop, until his chest is pretty much clean. (Just a little sticky.)

They lie there together for a while. Eventually, staring up at the ceiling and ghosting his thumb over Steve’s knuckles, Bucky asks, “How long have you known?”

Steve rolls over so he can comfortably rest his chin on Bucky’s chest and look up at him. “You’ve loved me since we were kids,” he states factually. Bucky bites his lip with embarrassment – was he really always that transparent? But Steve says it with no trace of judgement. Bucky says nothing, so Steve continues, “I knew you’d be ready to come to me about it eventually.”

Bucky shifts a bit and then finally meets his gaze. “So why didn’t you just tell me you felt the same way sooner?”

Steve shrugs. “Didn’t want to scare you off; you needed to be ready.”

“I’m ready now,” Bucky insists confidently, and he knows without doubt that it’s the truth.

Steve smiles; as always, seems to be able to see exactly that, too. “I guessed as much.”

“You’ve loved me since we were kids, too,” Bucky guesses, but he tries to make it sound as sure as Steve had been. Inside, he’s scared shitless that his assumption is wrong. But Steve purses his lips and raises his eyebrow quickly, playfully.

“Took you long enough,” is his answer. They stare at each other for a moment, and then Steve’s breaking out into a grin. Bucky’s eyes fall to his mouth and he’s doing it again – he’s staring too intently, for too long. Only now that sort of thing is okay. He hums in his throat, wrapping a hand around the back of Steve’s neck.

“Get the fuck over here,” Bucky growls, yanking him up for a kiss, and Steve goes obediently with that smirk still on his face.



Bucky’s come a long way. He still prefers to be called James these days, but he no longer gets angry if Steve accidentally calls him ‘Buck’ before his brain can catch up to his mouth. Steve likes to think that every day brings them a little bit closer to a healthy recovery, though he knows the road is still a long ways ahead. But Bucky’s living in the Tower now with the rest of them (the only reason Steve agreed to move in himself was because his best friend said he’d go if Steve went). And even though he has his own apartment on the Captain’s floor, he’ll still spend as many nights sleeping in Steve’s bed as he will his own.

They’re not dating officially or anything, but Steve feels confident that that’s where it’ll end up – if that’s what Bucky wants, of course. They had never technically been anything with a title, not even back before the war. They just sort of knew what they were to each other; that not a living soul could take each other’s place. That’s as good enough for them now as it had been then. Bucky’s still struggling with his moments where the Winter Soldier unexpectedly takes the driver’s seat and forces James Barnes to be an idle passenger. Steve knows he’ll never completely be the guy he used to be, but that’s okay by him. Bucky could stay the way he is now and Steve would never love him any less. It’s just that he sees the cracks continuing to grow in Bucky’s person every day, so he knows there’s still more of him to break through; more of Bucky to come back to him. He’s content waiting as patiently as he needs to and helping in whatever ways Bucky will let him.

Things are different these days, while in a way remaining mostly the same. It had shifted the day that Steve had been cutting his hair and Bucky had looked up at him, snatched his wrist in his metal hand, and said with a frown that matched the confusion in his voice, “We used to fuck.”

Steve had nodded – it’d do neither of them any good for him to lie to Bucky, especially about something like that – and met his gaze until Bucky gave a small nod himself and looked back down, like he was processing that information. Steve knew what was going on; there’d been signs leading up to that moment that Bucky was rediscovering and coming to terms with the sexual attraction he felt towards Steve… that irrevocable instinct that Steve’s body was home to his own. Steve had watched his face and then went back to gently snipping away at his scraggly tresses, not saying a word and allowing Bucky the space to make conversation if he wanted to.

One thing about Bucky that had changed was how unnervingly stoic and obedient he’d become. The stillness hadn’t been anything new; Steve had, after all, served in the war with him. He’d seen what Bucky became the moment he’d have a sniper rifle in his hands. But the whole sitting there like a dog who’d been given orders and being completely malleable until you told him to do otherwise – that, Steve couldn’t help but wish Bucky would outgrow sooner rather than later. And he’d gotten that same discomfort while he finished the haircut, because he knew that Bucky had more he wanted to say, but the brunet just continued to stare ahead, eyes pointed at Steve’s abdomen but looking far beyond that.

When he’d finished, Steve put the scissors down and grabbed a towel so he could wipe the hair off of Bucky’s naked shoulders and chest. Bucky still wanted to be called James, and James still didn’t feel comfortable with his hair being any shorter than shoulder length, but at least it had looked cleaner now. Steve had bent over slightly so his face was at the same level as Bucky’s, assessing the strands to make sure he hadn’t botched anything too badly. Just as he’d reached up and brushed some hair out of his best friend’s face, Bucky – who’d been staring at him intensely – said, “I want to fuck you right now.”

That had been part of his therapy – trying to gently coerce Bucky over time to get comfortable again with voicing what he wanted, when he wanted it. The general rule in the Tower was that it didn’t matter the nature of what came out of Bucky’s mouth; it could be rude, it could be funny, it could be downright raunchy, but it was Bucky expressing what he wanted so he was allowed to say it. It didn’t mean they always had to give it to him – learning that you’re allowed to want goes hand-in-hand with learning that sometimes, you’re also going to be told no – just that they were never to make a big deal or attach a negative connotation to it if Bucky suddenly said something completely out of line at the drop of a hat. First, he had to learn that it was okay to feel such things again, never mind saying them out loud. Then they could worry about teaching him how to properly filter what was appropriate to say at times and what wasn’t.

I want to fuck you right now. It was a declaration but still somehow sounded like a question. The only person Bucky ever seemed hesitant around was Steve – like Steve was the only thing in the world that could have Bucky worrying that he might say the wrong thing and fuck things up. The admission made Steve feel more joy than arousal, though it was still enough to get his heart beating faster and heat pooling to his dick. When he kept his facial expressions even and quietly teased, “Took you long enough,” something in that made Bucky’s brows knit together in that way that Steve recognized by now meant that he was reliving a memory.

He went easily when Bucky suddenly leaned forward and kissed him; about as easily as he did everything else that followed. Bucky was much more aggressive in bed than Steve remembered – as though Bucky was franticly trying not to lose the moment; that he had to lay his claim over Steve before Steve changed his mind. Steve had just smiled the entire time and breathlessly repeated over and over, I’m yours, and though Bucky hadn’t seemed to believe it that night, with time, he did.

After that, they began to fuck – as Tony would say – ‘like rabbits’. Thanks to Steve’s serum, he had about a five-second refractory period, and with Bucky’s, it was about ten. Steve never bothered mentioning that the serum probably didn’t do shit in affecting that – Bucky had always had an impressive ability to get it up a few times in a row when it came to Steve, even long before Zola experimented on him.

They’d have each other anywhere they pleased. Both of their apartments could be deemed ‘unfit for habitation’ with the amount of spunk they’ve had to clean from practically every fuckable surface in them. And it doesn’t get limited to just their spaces, either. They’ve defaced a few pieces of furniture in a couple of the other Avengers’ places (people they know would forgive them for it, like Sam, or Nat, or Thor).

Their favourite place to go fuck around in is Stark’s elaborate shower (followed by the billionaire’s bed). Because honestly, the guy had it coming after he’d neglected to inform them that their apartments were video monitored and then thought it’d be hilarious to ‘accidentally’ play footage of Bucky pounding into Steve from over their couch during the Avengers’ weekly movie night. Steve had disabled the cameras after that. Bucky made sure to take a selfie of him sprawled belly-down on Stark’s finest silk sheets, giving the camera the finger while the image very clearly showed Steve standing behind him – gripping his hips with rough hands and leaving little to the imagination in terms of what they were doing.

Stark’s only retaliation was threatening to tell Steve what Bucky had sent him. Steve texted him backwith only four words: It was my idea.

“I get the feeling that used to be a thing, too,” Bucky had murmured, sitting against the headboard while Steve kissed and licked along his chest; heading back down towards his cock for round six. “Bad decisions being your ideas.”

“I’m an angel,” Steve replied innocently, but the fact that he was now licking quick and teasing strips down Bucky’s erection sort of spat in the face of that.

Bucky had groaned and fluttered his eyes shut. Steve could feel his metal hand threading its fingers into his hair again, fuck yes. “The world doesn’t know shit about Captain America,” Bucky had said with a short chuckle.

Steve sucked the tip into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Bucky jolted and gave a low groan. Steve had smirked and let it fall from his lips so he could nip the inside of Bucky’s thigh.

“Baby, you have no idea,” he promised, eyes twinkling, before diving back in and sucking Bucky right down into his throat.


Bucky’s – James’s – still a little too serious though at times. Back in the war, it’d been Steve who’d turn into Mr. Solemn in the face of a mission. He’d been the Captain, after all, and his priority always had to be the safety of his men. The only times he’d ever let himself loose were the few precious instances where he and Bucky could get each other alone. But when it was go time, Captain America took over and led the way while Steve Rogers took a nap in the background.

Maybe it’s just because he’s seen so much since being out of the ice, but Steve’s got selective caring now. He can tell the crucial missions from the throwaway ones. He knows that every mission has its dangers and its importance at the same time, but he’s fought against aliens from outer space, supremacists with red skulls for faces, killer robots, and everything in the broad spectrum of the impossible falling in-between.

So a guy who’s trying to steal a little plutonium to make weapons in his mother’s basement? Steve doesn’t really think it’s that necessary to have Captain America and the Winter Soldier on patrol and ready to open fire – because he’s read the file and this guy sounds like a complete moron. He definitely isn’t smart enough to get his hands on plutonium, much less know how to use it. And what’s he going to do – walk into some building, steal it, and just waltz back out into broad daylight and carry it home, since the guy doesn’t even own a vehicle? Apparently, though, S.H.I.E.L.D. is still feeling a little more than embarrassed about the whole ‘we didn’t realize the enemy had been infiltrating us for a few decades’ thing, so they were overcompensating just a tad by taking every threat seriously – even the minor ones like this.

It means they’ve been staked out on the roof for almost three hours, just waiting for this guy in the hopes that he shows up. His email records – and the date and estimated time found within them – indicate that he should be making an appearance for the prize at any time now. Bucky’s poised at the ready, with his sniper aimed and one eye staring down the scope. It’s comforting in a way to see him like this, because it reminds Steve of their time in the Italian Theater. Bucky’s always been this focused when he’s preparing himself for his target; that was something that belonged entirely to him, not Zola, Hydra, or who the Winter Soldier had once been.  

But Steve is bored. He wishes he would’ve brought his sketchbook or a deck of cards or something. He keeps trying to make conversation with Bucky but Bucky doesn’t ever do much talking when his mind is distracted. (He used to talk more back in the war; this is one of those things that has also changed about him.) Steve frowns and tries to keep himself busy, but his body starts to grow antsy and agitated. He takes his eyes off the scene below them so he can sit on his butt with his back to the ledge of the building. He rummages through his pockets and fiddles with the contents inside, one by one. He picks at the lint on his uniform and tries to smooth out the wrinkles. All the while, his right foot taps incessantly to try and ward off the full-body twitch he really wants to give.

He’s acting like a small child, basically. When his butt starts to go numb, he switches so he’s shifted more to one side, and then eventually to the other. He even tries to lie on his back for a while and stare up at the clouds, but the weather is overcast so it’s not the same as on a sunny day. After another hour, the target still hasn’t shown up, and Steve just wants to go home. But they can’t abandon their post until they get their orders; he knows this. And as bored as he may be, Steve wouldn’t turn his back on a mission, either. If something went wrong, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

He’s back to resting his arms on the ledge with his chin resting on top of them. He stares down below them and watches the same thing Bucky’s watching, only Steve keeps zoning out. Absentmindedly, he keeps pressing his lips together and then releasing them, making tiny popping noises. Quiet and steady, he keeps doing this until he hears Bucky grunt, “Steve.”


“Stop that.”


“It’s annoying,” Bucky mutters, still as a statue and never tearing his gaze away from down his scope.

“I’m bored, though,” Steve argues.

Still doesn’t make it any less annoying,” Bucky replies flatly.

Steve frowns, eyes on Bucky’s profile. He clears his throat and then – because he likes being a little shit – purses his lips together and releases them, making that small popping sound again. Bucky doesn’t flinch, but he releases a tense little tuff of air, as if to say, Damnit, Rogers. Steve gets a nonchalant expression and continues staring at Bucky, making those popping sounds again with his mouth.

Eventually, Bucky gruffs, “Steve, you don’t knock that shit off and I swear, m’gonna whack-a-mole you in the balls.”

Steve starts to grin, and if Bucky was paying attention, he’d notice that telltale spark igniting in his eyes – the one that always spells trouble. “You’re way too serious,” Steve says calmly. He scooches closer and leans in slowly, keeping an eye on Bucky’s face so that no sudden movements make the old Winter Soldier give a surprise appearance. He knows Bucky can feel his presence, even if he can’t see him, since his left eye is squeezed closed. It isn’t until Steve presses his lips to the side of Bucky’s neck that Bucky mutters, “Don’t.”

And yet, he could easily just make him if he really wanted Steve to stop. It’s a hollow request; Steve knows it. Perhaps there are better times or places. They are on a roof where they’re too high up for anyone to see but he supposes they’re still technically out in the open. Everyone in the Tower seems to think for some reason that Bucky’s the one who always has the most scandalous ideas when it comes to their sex life, but really it’s Steve who gets off on pushing the limits. Bucky just comes along for the ride. Maybe one day he’ll have to set the record straight. That day isn’t today though; he has more important things to do.

Such as sliding his hand down Bucky’s stomach, over his tactical gear and Winter Soldier uniform, and then gently squeezing his crotch. The action doesn’t make Bucky flinch like it usually would – he gets so in the zone on missions – and that makes Steve excited. Because nothing may be readable on Bucky’s face, and his breathing is still rhythmic and even, but as Steve keeps rubbing over his dick, he can feel it coming to life beneath his hand. He continues planting silent, sucky kisses to Bucky’s neck, and he kneads the bulge in Bucky’s pants gently, then harder, then gently again – just to see if anything he does can evoke a reaction from his boyfriend. So far, nothing is successful, but the hard-on does not lie.

“Steve,” Bucky warns again, voice void of emotion or anything that might give him away.

“How good’s your training?” Steve husks into his ear before sucking the lobe between his lips and giving it a small bite. Bucky doesn’t respond to that, and his face doesn’t even twitch – but his cock does, right up against Steve’s hand. Exhaling a small, breathy chuckle against the skin of Bucky’s neck, Steve drops to his knees and forces himself between Bucky’s body and the ledge. It’s tall enough that it goes right over his head and doesn’t disrupt Bucky’s stance, the poise of his rifle, or Bucky’s task at hand. Steve mouths at his erection while his fingers work to undo the clasps and zippers keeping the Sergeant’s pants up. Bucky doesn’t do anything to make Steve’s work of tugging his pants down any easier, but he doesn’t do anything to put a stop to it, either. Just keeps standing there like a good little soldier.

Fine by Steve – challenge accepted.

He pulls Bucky’s pants down his thighs, yanking his boxer briefs down with them to his knees. Taking his boyfriend’s hips in his hands, Steve spares a glance upward, but of course Bucky isn’t looking down at him. No, Bucky’s too focused on the mission for that. Steve smirks and rolls his eyes before wetting his lips and looking back to Bucky’s gorgeous, uncut cock. Hydra did a lot of things to the Winter Soldier – Steve never wants to know how they managed to permanently get rid of his chest and stomach hair, but he’ll listen if Bucky ever decides to talk about it one day – but they never felt the need to circumcise the Asset. Steve’s always loved Bucky’s foreskin.

Leaning in, he plays with it with his tongue; wraps his lips around the first few inches and teases it back and forth with his mouth. Bucky doesn’t move; doesn’t even breathe any differently. But within a minute, Steve tastes something bitter on his tongue and realizes with a moan that Bucky’s leaking precome. He inhales deeply and pulls back enough to smile; using one hand to hold Bucky’s dick steady while he licks along the length as though it were a popsicle.

Bucky refuses to make any sounds so Steve has to pick up the slack. Make him do all the work, this guy, swear to God Almighty… He groans softly and makes quiet little slurping sounds as he takes it all back into his mouth again and sucks him to the hilt, burying his nose into the short, tight curls surrounding the base. The appendage twitches between his lips and he starts bobbing his head back and forth; hollowing out his cheeks and putting everything he has into the suckjob. He can taste the way Bucky’s slit keeps drooling out precome, and sometimes it gets too hard – Steve can feel the veins gliding over his tongue – and Steve knows that means Bucky’s close. But he’s having fun, so he purposely backs off and lessens the onslaught whenever he picks up on the signals – and it must be killing Bucky, but still the ex-Assassin says nothing.

Steve decides to up the ante. He’s got spit dribbling down his chin and he has to wipe himself with the back of his hand when he pulls away to take a small gulp of air a few minutes later. But then he’s tilting Bucky’s cock up, exposing his balls, and Steve knows how sensitive they are. He thinks that maybe this can cause a fissure in Bucky’s impenetrable walls, but they’re impenetrable for a reason. He takes his time sucking them individually into his mouth and rolling his tongue around them, and if this were any other occasion, the actions would either have Bucky howling with laughter and trying to throw Steve away, or arching and moaning loudly. Steve gets neither of those things, and it’s starting to become a little frustrating.

Steve tends to his balls for another minute or so before freeing his mouth so he can suck on his finger and wet it. He resumes licking along Bucky’s erection and murmurs, low and throaty, “Taste so good for me, Buck…” Nothing – except the dick against his lips jolts the tiniest bit. Bucky’s always loved praise; is a slut for it. Steve starts fucking his mouth along him again, humming every time it’s completely full, while he brings his hand up to Bucky’s ass and starts circling his best friend’s hole with the slicked finger.

He doesn’t put it in, not at first. Just lets it roam there, a teasing promise that Steve refuses to fulfill. He only pulls his hand away to physically make Bucky spread his legs wider, before returning it and rimming him with the gentlest of caresses all over again; just with the very tip of his digit and nothing more. All the while, he never stops sucking Bucky off.

It takes a few minutes, but by the time Steve finally takes mercy on his boyfriend and pushes his finger all the way into Bucky’s body with one smooth slide, he’s having to flex the muscles in his throat every few seconds in order to keep swallowing down the mouthfuls of precome Bucky is pouring into him uncontrollably. Steve only needs to curl his finger the right way once. The cock in his mouth spasms and suddenly Bucky’s coming, hot and thick and spurting like crazy down his throat. Steve’s long since gotten over his aversion to swallowing, so he makes a point of moaning breathlessly and flexing his throat in that way he knows drives Bucky crazy. He keeps his finger buried inside of the brunet and twirls it in the slowest of circles as he drinks him all up, feeling smugger than he has in a long time.

That is – until he hears the smallest of hitches in Bucky’s breath while he’s coming. And Steve glances up through his lashes, just the way Bucky loves… and though Bucky is still staring down the scope of his rifle, and his face is reticent and his body remains still as a statue, Steve heard that, and he sees the most minute of twitches in Bucky’s upper lip – just one.

And Steve takes that as a fucking win.



This was a bad idea.

He should’ve guessed when Steve proposed the brilliant plan of Bucky walking around all day with that silicone vibrator shoved up his ass that he was going to regret agreeing to it. Steve had promised that he wouldn’t pull a fast one and set it off at inopportune times but of course he’d been lying, of course. Because why the fuck would it not be a good idea to start fiddling with the remote control for it while they’re in the middle of a meeting? No, totally, yeah, that’s a great plan.

It’s not like Bucky had needed all that much coercion to get talked into it initially. Most of their bad ideas may always be Steve’s concoctions but that doesn’t mean Bucky doesn’t get off on it, too. It’s just that normally they don’t involve him having something thrumming against his prostate while he has to keep his poker face in front of Director Coulson and ex-Director Fury.

Bucky likes Coulson enough – minus the man’s ridiculously evident man-crush on Steve, which the latter assures is harmless – but it’s Fury who puts Bucky on edge. Shooting a guy and near killing him doesn’t exactly make for the best first impression. Fury had taken the longest out of all of his coworkers to come around to Bucky joining the team, and Bucky’s pretty sure he still doesn’t fully trust him. Yeah, okay… He has to give him that one. Whoops.

But let’s just say that Bucky hadn’t tried to assassinate him the first time they’d met (and technically, they never actually had until long after he’d already returned to Steve’s side – fuck, that’d been an awkward introduction). Bucky seems pretty confident that he still would’ve been intimidated by this dude – he is a scary motherfucker. And he always has this way of phrasing questions after you’ve said something that can really make a guy feel like an idiot. Most of them incorporate the word “Hell” somewhere into it; what in the HELL… how in the HELL…

Bucky’s always on his best behaviour during one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s mandatory meetings, even if he’s bored to tears. He’s been trained for worse; even if he wanders off into Imagination Land, he’s an expert at making it look as though he’s still paying attention intently. He still doesn’t fully feel as though he’s earned his right to call himself an ‘Avenger’, or even the audacity to assume he’s part of any team yet – even if Steve insists he is. Bucky caused a lot of shit to these people, either on a personal level or by association. He understands that there’s still a long way to go in terms of proving himself.

That’s why, during meetings, or briefings, or debriefings, or what-have-you, Bucky likes to blend into the background; not bring any attention to himself. He’ll stay completely silent unless he’s asked a question directly. And everyone’s grown used to that.

Which is why everyone suddenly turns and looks to him when he jolts out of nowhere in his seat and smacks his knee off of the underside of the table top. Worse yet, he makes this weird yelping sound as his eyes grow as big as saucers – and then completely freezes when he notices the others staring. They’re all giving him different variations of weird looks; Doctor Banner looks concerned, Stark looks impatient, Thor just looks like he doesn’t understand (but what else is new?), Clint’s just sort of looking, and Talia has one eyebrow raised as though she already suspects something without any prelude. Coulson looks surprised, and Fury – who had been in the middle of talking – abruptly turns to him and raises an eyebrow, too, unimpressed.

The only person who isn’t looking at him is Steve. The Captain is sitting to his right, tucked nice and close to the table with he left elbow resting on the top, but the right completely disappeared underneath it. He blinks – face completely unreadable, the fucker, the fucker, Bucky’s going to kill him – and then pretends to pick up on what everyone’s looking at. Glancing at Bucky, he asks with feigned concern and curiosity, “You okay, Buck? Is something wrong?”

The asshole’s brows are even furrowed and he’s frowning – the fucker, the FUCKER, you know what you did, you motherfucking--

“I’m fine, Cap,” he says evenly, forcing a small, tight smile. Clearing his throat, he gives the group an apologetic little shrug and lies, “Had a muscle spasm; must’ve been sitting weird for too long.”

“Try Pilates,” Stark suggests cheekily, motioning to Steve. “Your senior boyfriend can tell you all about it.”

After this meeting is finished, gentlemen,” Fury cuts in sternly. He raises an eyebrow at Bucky, as if expecting another outburst from him, before straightening and tearing his gaze away. “As I was saying…”

Now that no one’s looking, Bucky glares daggers at Steve. He knows what Steve has in his hand underneath the table; that vibrator inside of him hadn’t just magically turned on by itself. It’s a decent size, and lodged up there in such a way that it’s practically leaning against his prostate. Steve had made sure of it when he helped push it in there. So the little shit knew that if he turned it on, it’d go off right against that sweet spot. Yet he’s sitting there - face looking innocent and oblivious and focused on what Fury is saying, and total fucking bullshit.   

“Steve,” Bucky hisses under his breath, just loud enough for the blond to hear. Steve doesn’t even bother looking at him; just places a finger to his lips and whispers back distractedly, “Shh, we’re in a meeting.”

“I swear to god, I’m going to fucking--”

“Sergeant Barnes, am I boring you?” Fury snaps, and once again, everyone’s heads are turned in his direction now.

Bucky opens his mouth to reply when suddenly, the dull vibrations in his ass suddenly become more powerful. It sends a lightning-sharp jolt of pleasure up his spine, down his legs, and straight to his balls, and he can feel Steve staring at him, too. He closes his mouth just as fast, lest some mortifying groan come out instead of words. He’s silently praying to a god he no longer even believes in that no one can hear the muffled sound of the toy coming from his seat. He can’t hear it – but he also can’t hear much past the blood rushing in his ears.

“Was just asking Captain Rogers if I could borrow a pen, sir,” he forces out, struggling but succeeding to keep his tone leveled out. “Mine just died.”

“Oh yeah, here you go, Buck,” Steve smiles cheerily, holding out the one lying on his pad of paper in front of him. Bucky presses his lips in a firm line and forces the most strained of smiles to curl up the sides of his mouth as he locks eyes with Steve. To the rest of the room, the wholesome Captain looks as sweet as American pie – but as Bucky plucks the pen from his fingers with his flesh hand, he sees the dark little twinkle in Steve’s eyes, and Bucky’s thoughts chant fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, in the hopes that Steve will somehow hear it.

He doesn’t realize that he’s grinding his ass down into the chair until he hears Stark suddenly say, “What’s that sound?” He’s looking around the room, and within seconds, everyone’s glancing around, too. Bucky feels like his blood freezes and his heart stops, and now would be a wonderful time for Steve to turn the fucking thing off, but no, of course not, because why do that when he can turn it up to the next setting? THAT’S A GREAT FUCKING IDEA, ROGERS.

“I don’t hear anything,” Steve plays dumb, but he makes a point of looking around too, as if he were curious.

The only way Bucky can save face is to play along. He furrows his brows – which is a blessing because his entire backside is getting massaged with ecstasy and sitting so still is making him want to violently kick something just to let some of the steam off – and finds himself saying, “Actually, I think I hear something, too.”

Steve raises his eyebrows a bit and gives Bucky the sneakiest of amused little smiles; like, Oh you do, do ya? Fury’s saying something along the lines of, “Can we please figure out what in the Hell that is so we can stop it?” Meanwhile, Bucky’s trying to fidget in his seat as subtly as he can to find something that makes the vibrating sound cease.

Turns out, the only thing that works is bracing his forearms to the table and applying some of his weight so he can literally hover his ass a half inch off the seat. That and that alone makes the noise stop, and it’s just enough that no one else seems to notice how very fucking awkward Bucky’s suddenly holding himself. The group of superheroes pause for almost a minute to listen close and make sure that annoying faraway buzzing wasn’t going to come back, and then the meeting carries on.

Of course, that means that Bucky’s now sitting through the meeting having to keep himself hovering over his chair. If it wasn’t for the bionic limb, even he would be having a tough time bracing his weight on his arms the way he is for that long. But his legs start to grow tired around the half hour mark, and that muscle spasm he lied about earlier might actually be a real possibility. He distracts himself by putting all of his focus into keeping the mask on his face from cracking, and the breaths pushing in and out of his lungs, stable and consistent.

He stays as still as humanly possible while on the inside, he screams obscenities and curses to Steve Rogers’s name – and it’s not too hard to picture himself thrashing around inside his own head; pounding against the walls and shrieking to break out so he can voice that one really vehement moan he wants to make.

Who’s having a grand old time, though? Steve. He’d undoubtedly be grinning like a kid in a candy store if he could get away with it right now. Bucky steals quick glances, and every time, without fail, Steve’s pretending to be paying close attention to the details of the meeting. He rests his cheek into his fist and never takes his eyes off of whoever’s talking. But that right hand is still perfectly concealed beneath the table, and Steve knows he’s got that fucking thing up Bucky’s ass vibrating pretty strongly and he’s showing no signs of taking pity on him.

On the contrary, Bucky has to close his eyes and pretend to rub at them to stop himself from gasping aloud when the steady thrumming against his prostate suddenly, without warning breaks into a tapping rhythm -  buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. Each one short and sweet and strong and as unrelenting as Steve is. How many goddamn fucking settings did this thing have!? Bucky’s about to go crazy. Maybe he should excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

It’s a double-edged sword. If he makes any sort of movements, the vibrator might become audible again. Furthermore, Bucky isn’t fully certain that if he tried to stand that his legs would be reliable. His calves are starting to seize and it’s taking him everything he has not to shake, that if he released all that tension but for a single second, his knees might give out. He also feels the coiling starting up in his lower belly – the way the muscles of his abs are beginning to clench and unclench – and now he doesn’t need to get out of the room, because if he makes any sudden movements, he’s going to fucking come on the spot.

The only mission at hand now is to do everything possible not to let that happen. He needs to be able to ride this out until they’re dismissed.

His fists are clenched and his nostrils are flaring, but other than that, Bucky’s doing a damn good job at not letting anything look amiss. There’s a war waging in his body that feels more chaotic and overwhelming that any Fourth of July firework – than any amount of gunfire or explosions that Europe had had to offer.

And Bucky is going to fucking murder Steve when they’re finally alone.

That opportunity isn’t granted to him for almost another twenty-seven minutes. Bucky’s actually in physical pain by the time Fury and Director Coulson tell them they can go; Bucky hasn’t heard a word they’ve said. Sam’s saying something to him, but Bucky’s leaping out of his seat and then scrunching his face up with a choked sound when the action makes him feel like oh shit, shit, m’gonna come… But a few deep breaths and he’s able to push it back down.

“You okay, man?” Sam asks with a deep frown. “You’re looking a bit pale.”

He feels a big hand on his shoulder and Steve is mirroring that same bullshit face of concern. The remote is conveniently and mysteriously missing from his right hand. “Yeah, are you alright?” Steve asks. “You look like you need to lie down.”

You fucker, you piece of shit, I’ll rip your head right off your body, you stupid little--

“I have a bit of a headache,” Bucky lies, purposely looking at the Falcon and not Steve.

“You can get headaches?” Sam asks with genuine curiosity. No, Bucky’s not about to get into the details of the serum and make conversation right now, thanks!

“Apparently I can,” Bucky mutters, knocking Steve’s hand off his shoulder. His legs are starting to wobble. It’s only because he’s angled a certain way and draping his metal arm just enough over his waist that his very pained erection isn’t visible from the front of his pants. He mumbles a hurried apology and some shitty bye and then books it from the room. He needs to get back to his apartment, or Steve’s, or it doesn’t fucking matter – he has to make it to a cab and back the fuck home to the Tower so he can fall apart where it’s safe. But he isn’t even sure he’ll make it that far. Honestly, at this point, he just needs to be somewhere alone so he can yank that stupid fucking thing from his ass, or at least have some privacy if it makes him climax before he can.

He stumbles into the elevator and has to drop his weight against one of the four walls because his legs do finally give out; not enough to send him to the floor but enough that he needs some support. He watches the door start to close and he’s about to burst – just a few more seconds until he’s alone and he can release that cry he’s wanted to let out for almost an hour. Because the vibrator still hasn’t stopped and it’s still buzzing in a quick, staccato beat inside of him, and if he shifts just the right way, it’s like he’s seeing the face of fucking god.

And then Steve strides right in just before the door shuts.

Bucky’s eyes widen – an outraged accusation – and he points at Steve with every intention of letting him have it; about to tell him not to fucking come any closer, that that shit he pulled wasn’t funny, he’s going to kill him, he really will.

But Steve’s eyes are on him and the remote is now back in his hand – was there when he walked in so he must’ve whipped the damn thing out while heading to the elevator and following Bucky’s trail – and Steve’s stepping towards him quickly. He isn’t smiling now.

“Disable the cameras in Elevator 14A – security level: Captain Rogers, Steven G,” he orders to the A.I. that runs the elevator.

“Security authorized,” the smooth, metallic voice answers right away. “Cameras disabled.”

“You--” Bucky starts to accuse.

Steve presses on a button with his thumb and the broken-up vibrating stops and goes back to the constant stream – on the strongest setting it has. Bucky’s back arches from the wall and the small cube is filled with the sound of his hoarse cry as the motion makes him lose his balance and start to drop to the floor.

The Captain grabs him just in time; wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist and hoisting him back up only to slam him back to the wall. Bucky’s eyes are wide and staring helplessly up at the ceiling as he gasps out shaky breaths that make his chest expand and contract violently.

“Ah, fuck!” he shouts unabashedly when Steve quickly slots his thigh between his legs and pushes it to Bucky’s erection. He hears Steve slamming his free palm against the emergency stop button on the elevator, trapping them inside and keeping the rest of the world out. Then he hears a small clacking sound, and Steve’s tossed the remote to the ground; freeing up both hands so he can grab Bucky’s shaggy hair in one hand and tug his head back while the other squeezes a nice big handful of the ex-Soviet’s ass. Bucky lets out a startled sound when Steve yanks his head back; he goes pliant and looks into his Captain’s eyes. He feels like he could be scalded by the fire in Steve’s baby blues.

“Steve,” he whimpers, and then he can’t form anymore words because Steve’s tongue is pushing into his mouth. He’s already rocking his hips against the rock-hard muscles of Steve’s thigh, and yes, oh god, yes, the friction against his cock was something he didn’t even realize he needed so desperately until now. This won’t take long – there’s no way after all of that. He’s… he’s…

“Fuck, fuck, fuck--” he chants deliriously, grinding down harder and rutting faster. He’s stimulated from both sides and--

“Come for me, Buck,” Steve growls against his lips, “you were so good for me, oh my God, you were so sexy back there. It’ll feel so amazing, please, baby, make a mess for me.”

Bucky does. He’s powerless to do anything else when he has that vibrator tearing him apart, or that perfect super soldier body pressed to his, or that leg wedged so sweetly against his cock, or his fucking gorgeous boyfriend nipping at his lips and talking to him this way. Bucky comes so hard that he tries to scream but whatever sound comes ripping from his throat sounds so much more wrecked than that. It doesn’t even sound human. Then his eyes are rolling up into his head as he starts shooting into his pants, and when the full extent of his pleasure bursts throughout his body, it’s enough to make him black out for just a few moments.

When he comes to, the vibrator is on its lowest setting but it’s still too much for his oversensitive body. He jerks with a hiss and begs Steve to turn it off. And Steve’s a little shit but he isn’t cruel, so he finally does, and it’s just as instantaneous of a relief to Bucky’s system as the climax just was. Steve takes a few luxurious minutes to kiss Bucky slowly while the latter pants and tries to stop the spinning of his head. When he asks Bucky if he can stand on his own and Bucky eventually nods, mouth still hanging open with noisy breaths, Steve puts the remote into one of his pockets and presses the elevator button to the ground floor.

“We can stop by a bathroom so you can take that out of you,” Steve offers.

Bucky looks at him like he has two heads and replies, “What am I gonna do – just wash the thing in the middle of the room where anyone can walk by and see?” Steve doesn’t really have an answer for that, but he shrugs anyways, like it might help. Bucky rolls his eyes and flatly says, “No, it’s fine; I’ll deal with it until we get back home.”

Steve gives him a little knowing smile out of the corner of his eye; that playful one that usually comes right before Steve says something like--

“C’mon, I know you liked that.”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Bucky replies, choosing not to look at him so he can issue a little childish payback.

Steve gives him a tiny shove. “Come ooon… You really gonna try and tell me that didn’t feel good?”

Good? Steve, that was fuckin’ torture. M’gonna shove a pillow over your face while you’re sleepin’ and suffocate you.”

Steve laughs. “You wouldn’t do that; you love me."

Bucky finally looks to him. “You are without a doubt the biggest troublemaking little fucking shit I’ve ever met, Rogers. How does no one else see it!? It’s like I’m fuckin’ crazy!”

Steve’s grin gets warm and silly. He leans back against the wall next to Bucky and replies, “Because I’m your ‘biggest troublemaking little fucking shit’ and no one else’s.”

Damn. Bucky can never argue with that, nor can he ever let that stop his heart from melting. He turns – grunting softly at the intrusion still being a bit of a nuisance inside of his over-stimulated body – and gives his boyfriend a stern look.

“M’still gonna kill you for this,” Bucky vows, but then he’s leaning in to take Steve’s face in his hands to kiss him. “But you’re damn right you are.”



Steve hadn’t been able to get used to his body at first; if he’s being honest (and he likes to think that, for the most part, he usually always is), it had taken far longer than anyone else thought it might. But that’s giving people far too much credit, because really, no one else had ever bothered to even ask him how he felt in his new body – properly, anyways.

During the USO tour, Steve was too preoccupied to let himself give it much though. He welcomed the constant distraction – indulged in his newly-acquired strength without dwelling on just how strange it was that he could now do any of these new things at all. The biggest distraction was the way others now seemed to look at him. That was both unsettling and disgustingly endearing.

The tour did a lot for Steve’s sex life. Not necessarily that he was off sleeping around at every turn, because he’d never been like that, no matter how aggressive his hormones had always seemed to be. But the serum really did amplify everything – and that included his libido. He was still human, and having half-naked beautiful women throwing themselves at him left, right, and center was bound to break him down eventually, at least a little.

The fact was there were not that many men on the tour, and those who were were a lot older than what any of those dames would’ve been interested in. Steve was the youngest, best-looking fella around – traveling the country with this hoard of women night and day – and he was also considered an eligible bachelor. He knew Bucky was overseas and Steve missed him like he missed the sun shining on his face. But they’d also decided to end things between them before Bucky left, so that neither one of them would mess things up. They knew they’d never stop loving each other, but war does things to you, and Bucky didn’t want to be in a position where something might have happened and then he’d gone and cheated on his best friend.

I’m going to go off and do a hundred terrible things and deserve a hundred awful deaths, but if I ever did that to you, I’d rather put my own gun in my mouth.

Steve understood – didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt the both of them, but he understood. He still intended on finding Bucky on the battlefield, and he knew he wouldn’t love him any less than he had the night before Bucky shipped out. But being in the tour, Steve had finally understood what Bucky had meant and was a little relieved by it. They’d never been an official couple anyways – they both still saw other people the entire time they’d been together (well, Steve tried, Bucky succeeded, story of his life). Only now, it wasn’t the story of Steve’s life anymore.

Because he had a body that drove anyone who saw it crazy, and no, he didn’t feel overly comfortable in it, and no, he didn’t like showing it off because even though the attention was flattering, it was also unnerving. No one had looked at him like this before; no one but Bucky had ever given a damn. So Steve wasn’t an idiot – he understood that these people weren’t interested in him so much as they were interested in the nicely-wrapped package of his fame and beauty.

Still… He missed Bucky, he missed physical contact, and again, his libido was now spiralling out of control almost to the point of legitimate madness. So sometimes he took the edge off by letting one of the tour girls snuggle real close and then press kisses to his mouth. Despite his and Bucky’s agreement, it still made him feel a little guilty, but he felt less guilty about kissing than he did other stuff. So, for the most part, he usually just stuck with kissing.

Sometimes, though, the serum would have his cock so damn hard to the point where it was actually hurting him – and causing an embarrassing splotch of precome to stain the crotch of his tights. (Most of the dames there got off for some reason on macking on him while he was wearing the costume.) Once in a blue moon, Steve couldn’t help but let his hands wander, or let theirs in return. Over the three month period of the tour, before he reached Italy and discovered the news of Bucky’s capture, Steve learned what the inside of a woman felt like around his fingers. He discovered how they tasted on his tongue, and how it felt to bury himself into a small handful of them.

It was always fun, and it always felt good – and Steve preferred at the time the taste of a dame’s pussy to a guy’s spunk – but the whole thing made him realize the most important thing: that none of these women were Bucky. Women were tight and hot and wet and Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they felt amazing wrapped around his dick… But they couldn’t take the place of his best friend – the love of his life – thrusting into his body. Their soft, feminine sounds were sweet as sugar, but Bucky’s moans, his gasps, the whispering way he breathed Steve’s name – that was perfection, and you can’t top perfection. So eventually, Steve stopped messing around with the pretty ladies on his tour and opted for good ole’ masturbation to get him through the remainder of it.

Then he had found out about Bucky, and that was that. He ditched the tour – didn’t even have to give it a second thought – and stormed a Hydra base to get his best friend (and the other men) back. And the thing was, something was different about Bucky, ever since Steve had gotten him out of there. But he’d been a prisoner of war, so that was to be expected. It was the stuff Bucky refused to talk about that put a sick feeling into Steve’s stomach – like what exactly had been done to him while he’d been there.

It’s a little selfish, but Steve had been self-conscious that Bucky might not be attracted to him once he got a good look at his new body. After all, he’d fallen in love with the ‘scrawny punk’ he’d known all his life – not this new, muscle-bound man who stood a couple inches taller than him and could bench-press him if he tried. The first night Steve had freed the men, they’d bivouacked in the forest, and Bucky hadn’t been able to stop staring. But the way he’d been looking, Steve couldn’t figure out if it was the good kind of staring or not.

He assumed it had to have been the bad kind, because Bucky found any and every excuse not to touch him that night. Steve wouldn’t have slept that night anyways – he was more concerned with making sure the perimeter remained safe so these men wouldn’t be put into danger again – because even if he hadn’t been on watch, he would’ve been too busy dwelling on all the possibilities of what that could’ve meant.

Then, of course, they were at the bar the next night and Bucky had properly met Peggy, only to watch her flirt with Steve. Steve had very deliberately tried not to give back too much in that conversation because – yes, Peggy looked exquisite, there was no denying that – Bucky was standing right there. And just seconds before, he’d been smiling again (sort of) and laughing again (sort of), but most importantly? He’d made one throwaway comment that caught Steve’s attention.

Bucky seemed a little threatened by Peggy and continued to give Steve strange looks for the remainder of the evening. He stopped smiling (sort of) and he stopped laughing (sort of), but Steve knew how to make him feel better. And the next chance he had to get Peggy alone, he’d find a way to gently tell her that though he thinks she’s swell, and he does have some feelings for her, his heart’s always belonged to someone else – and she can do much better than some kid from Brooklyn who can’t give her all of the love and attention she deserves.

Everything will be alright.


But you’re keeping the outfit, right?

He sends someone out to give the message to the Sergeant that Captain Rogers requires a word with him. One of the perks of them actually permitting him with such a rank is that he gets his own quarters whenever the opportunity presents itself, and tonight, his private room has a lock on the door.

About ten minutes later and Bucky walks in, looking exhausted and a little wobbly from the alcohol. He shuts the door behind him and Steve takes the chance while his best friend’s back is to him to add, “Lock it.” Bucky mumbles something acquiescing and does as he’s told – only to turn around and see Steve standing there in his Star Spangled Man costume sans the cowl. He goes completely still.

“I told you it was growin’ on me,” Steve says playfully, holding his arms out and turning in a circle. “Looks a little more ridiculous without the jacket, huh?”

Bucky just stands there with his grey eyes roaming up and down Steve’s frame, but there’s confusion in his features. He sighs out a small breath and shrugs, lifting a hand and running it through his dirty hair.

“I mean, I guess so,” he says, like he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say to that. Then he meets Steve’s eyes and Steve’s smile falls. Bucky looks so lost. “Why did you want to talk to me?” Bucky asks quietly.

“I need a reason to talk to my best friend?” Steve replies, frowning fast.

Bucky opens his mouth and then closes it. He does it a couple more times before a frustrated sound escapes him and his shoulders sag. “Sorry, Cap… I’ve been a bit of a wet blanket, haven’t I?”

“It’s not like anyone’s going to blame you for that,” Steve assures him, closing the space between them so he can put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. It actually hurts when Bucky flinches at the contact and tries to shrink away. “Although it’d feel a lot less weird if you stopped calling me ‘Cap’,” he adds. Bucky hasn’t called him Steve since they left the burning Hydra facility.

Bucky looks away and gets a strange, bitter look on his face. “But that’s what you are now, ain’t ya? The Captain? Captain America? Sure as Hell ain’t that little kid from Brooklyn no more.”

Steve blinks. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m not the same guy?” That more than hurts; that stings right down to his core. He’d trusted that Bucky of all people would have been able to see him for who he really was, even though his exterior was no longer the same. His hands drop from Bucky’s shoulders and now he’s the one looking away. “I’m still me, Buck.”

“Are you?” Bucky replies flatly. He scoffs and shakes his head, and then says self-deprecatingly, “When I left, you were the kid who needed me. That was what I was put on this earth to do – protect you and be there for you. Now who am I? What use do I have if you don’t need me anymore?”

“Hey,” Steve says quickly, and looking away hadn’t lasted for long; his hand is gripping the side of Bucky’s face tightly and forcing the now-shorter man to meet his gaze. “Who said I didn’t need you?”

Look at you, Steve. You don’t need me to help you fight your battles anymore. And you certainly don’t need me to be paying you any attention – you seem to be getting plenty of that wherever you go now.”

“I knew it; I knew that was bothering you.”

Bucky chews the inside of his cheek, eyes hard but vulnerable, and then sighs, looking away. “Look, when I ended things with you, I told myself it was the best decision for the both of us,” he admits, mumbling in a barely audible tone even though there’s no one else around to hear them. “But I thought that we’d always have… whatever we had with each other, even if we couldn’t be together. I just didn’t expect you’d have moved on so quickly.”

“Moved on? Bucky, what are you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Rogers, we both know I’m talkin’ about Agent Carter,” Bucky says. “She’s a great gal. And she sure is beautiful… She really seems to be keen on you, and you deserve that, you do. I guess I just… You know what? Never mind.” He tries to bat Steve’s hand away and turn to leave the room.

Steve doesn’t let him. He grabs Bucky’s face in his hands and kisses him before he can say any other nonsense. Bucky makes a startled sound in his throat but then he’s completely softening into the contact; wrapping his hands around Steve’s wrists and melting against his mouth. Within seconds, he’s kissing back, and he tastes like cheap booze and Lucky Strikes and everything Steve remembers of home. He makes sure his best friend is breathless before Steve finally pulls away. He presses their foreheads together.

“No one could ever replace you,” Steve promises. “Yes, I’m attracted to Peggy but she isn’t you, Buck. I was actually plannin’ on talking to her about her and me the next chance I had. Won’t tell her about us, promise, but… she deserves the chance to move on from me before it becomes any worse. M’sorry about tonight.”

For a second, Bucky says nothing and his eyes are still closed. His breathing is heavier and every exhale against Steve’s face feels like it’s traveling down Steve’s body and pumping into his sex. Then Bucky’s eyes slowly open and the naked fear he has in them makes Steve’s heart ache. “You promise?” he asks guardedly.

“You said it yourself,” Steve tells him pointedly. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

“And now…?”

“I just love you even more, jerk.”

It’s the nickname, his old nickname for Bucky, it has to be – because Bucky’s suddenly groaning and yanking the back of Steve’s head down so they can keep kissing. Before Steve knows it, Bucky’s pressing himself up to Steve’s chest and then breathing out, “Fucking Christ, Steve, your fuckin’ body…”

So Steve decides to show him a perk. He grabs the back of Bucky’s legs and hoists him up. Bucky instinctually wraps his legs around Steve’s waist as Steve rushes forward so Bucky’s back can be crowded up against the wall. The Sergeant clings to him and licks into his mouth hungrily, making choked little whimpering sounds in his throat, before yanking his mouth away and shaking his head.

“This is fucking weird,” he says, and Steve laughs. He glances down to take in the sight of Steve holding him up and then admits, “M’not sure how much I like this yet. I ain’t your dame, Rogers.”

“Never said you were,” Steve replies playfully; hot breath fanning over Bucky’s neck as he takes advantage of the chance to lean in and start sucking along his best friend’s skin, starting at the collar and working up to his ear. Bucky’s eyes flitter closed and he pants softly as Steve starts to mark him up, just the slightest bit.

“Couldn’t touch you last night,” Bucky admits breathlessly, answering the question that’d been plaguing Steve’s mind. Bucky digs his short, blunt nails into Steve’s back from over his costume and holds on for dear life. “Thought things were different between us… And your body, Jesus fucking Christ… If I started touchin’ you I wouldn’t have been able to stop and I thought… I didn’t think you’d want me no more…”

“Never,” Steve answers into his ear. He kisses along Bucky’s jaw and then nips the cleft in his chin. “I’ll always be yours to touch.”

Fuck,” Bucky exhales before Steve covers his mouth with his own and their tongues are back to beating together, quick and hasty and heatedly. Then Steve gets an idea.

“Hold on,” he whispers, trying to break the kiss. Bucky shakes his head, making a needy sound as he chases Steve’s mouth back and kisses him again. “No, really, hold on,” Steve insists, and Bucky actually curses him when Steve lowers him back to the ground. Steve gives him a shit-eating grin and teases, “Thought you didn’t like that.”

Bucky shoves him half-heartedly. “I said it was weird, smartass; never said anythin’ about wanting you to stop.”

“I want you to touch me,” Steve says, eyes burning holes into Bucky’s as his voice drops and gets sensual again.

Bucky gives him a frustrated look and throws his hands up. “What the Hell was I just doing?”

Steve shakes his head and leans back in, bending slightly so he can start planting the softest of kisses to the other side of Bucky’s neck. “Not like that,” he purrs. Bucky shivers. “I want you to…” Kiss. “Touch me properly…” Kiss. “Like you wanted to last night…” Kiss. “Slowly…” Nip. “Thoroughly…” Suck. “All over…” Kiss.

Bucky exhales loudly and shakily, eyes closing as he arches from the wall and tries to keep his groan contained. “Fuck, yes,” he answers, and his hands immediately fly up and start pressing along Steve’s chest. Someone’s eager.

But Steve shakes his head again and leans back and away. Bucky doesn’t understand, and his brows raise up in the middle and he opens his mouth to question what Steve’s doing. Steve just takes a couple steps away and slowly pulls the first layer of his shirt from over his head. He’s left with the tight blue long-sleeved shirt underneath. Already, Bucky’s eyes are traveling along his build; up one arm and down the other and then the outline of his pecks and the nice new curves of his abdomen.

“It looks like your muscles are trying to burst out of that shirt,” Bucky jokes, but there’s nothing but want on his face. “Whoever dressed you purposely gave you the wrong size.”

“Is that a problem?” Steve asks with a tiny smile.

“Fuck no,” Bucky answers. “God bless ‘em.” He pushes forward from the wall and starts to advance towards Steve, but the blond just holds up a hand to stop him with a quick, “No.”

Steve,” Bucky snaps impatiently. His hands are practically twitching.

Steve’s grin widens. “Hey, I’m your CO – that means you hafta do what I say.”

“M’pretty sure that doesn’t apply when your CO is being a dick and abusing his power.”

“You want my dick and you’re gonna have to play along, soldier,” Steve retaliates.

Bucky rolls his eyes but grumbles, “Touche. Hurry up with it then or I’m leaving.”

“So what you’re sayin’ is that I should take off this shirt next, then?”

“Steve, you could put the other one back on at this point – I really do not give a fuck, I just want to fuckin’ touch you.”

Steve purses his lips coyly and raises an eyebrow, looking away and fighting a chuckle. He tosses the first shirt aside and then peels the second one off of him, exposing his naked torso. He’s had people gawk at him when they’ve seen him shirtless for the first time, but somehow it’s completely different watching Bucky’s jaw drop and eyes widen. For a few seconds, the Sergeant just stammers over his words and has difficulty voicing what’s springing to mind. Steve watches that outline in Bucky’s pants grow and come to life and wow, just from looking, huh?

“For fuck’s sake, Steve,” Bucky strains, sounding pained. Steve holds out his hands as an open invitation. Bucky quickly steps forward - eyes still on Steve’s muscles - and takes them in his own. Steve knows that what Bucky wants to do is map his hands over his body fast and excitedly. The sooner they do that, the sooner they can get him out of the rest of his clothes, and then Bucky out of his, and the sooner they can work together to discover how Steve’s new body molds to Bucky’s.

You don’t usually get much time to yourself in the war; after everything Bucky’s been through, it makes sense that he’d feel as though he’s on the clock and needs to work fast. But Steve pulled some strings to ensure that he’d have a few hours to himself – which means a few hours alone with Bucky. He wants to milk it and make this last.

So when he presses Bucky’s hands to his chest and then his own down on top of them, he uses his strength to keep all of Bucky’s movements slow. At first, Bucky tries to fight him on it and rush things, but Steve just breathes his name and keeps watching his face intently, and eventually, Bucky gets the memo. Bucky’s hands feel amazing on his now too-hot skin, and he can tell from the look on his best friend’s face that the contours and planes of his body must feel just as nice for Bucky, too. Bucky’s eyes never stop bulging and there’s a look of pure, unadulterated awe on his face as he runs his palms over Steve’s abs, his sides, his arms and shoulders… When he (torturously slowly) glides his hands over Steve’s pecks, he brushes the nipples with his thumbs. Steve closes his eyes and tips his head back, sighing with a smile.

“I can’t get over this,” Bucky keeps repeating. He’s so entranced that he never meets Steve’s face once, because that’d mean having to tear his eyes off of Steve’s perfect body. “You’re fucking beautiful… Steve… I mean, you were always perfect but this is… Jesus, Stevie, this is insane… God, I want to trace every fuckin’ line with my tongue so bad… Can I?"

“Not yet,” Steve answers. Bucky groans with annoyance, but then shuts up when Steve turns around so his back is to Bucky and the Captain gently orders, “Now here.”

It’s just as slow of an exploration. Steve lets his head hang forward as he feels the wonderful sensations of Bucky’s hands sliding up and down his back, around his neck, even dragging his fingers up until the back of Steve’s hair and then scratching lightly back down. Bucky’s standing real close because when he speaks, Steve can feel his breath against the top of his spine.

“I wanna get you out of these ridiculous fuckin’ tights,” Bucky growls.

“You’re the one who asked me if I was keeping the outfit,” Steve reminds him.

Bucky grabs a rough handful of his ass as he quips, “Yeah, and now I want you out of it.”

Steve spins around and grabs Bucky’s wrists. With a smirk, he has Bucky back against the wall with his hands pinned on either side of his head. Bucky gasps, staring into his eyes, and his pupils are massive. He’s not exactly used to Steve manhandling him yet. Steve nips his bottom lip and then rubs their noses together. “I didn’t say you could touch,” he says lowly. “You have to be patient, soldier. I’ll give you what you want.”

“I hate you, Rogers,” Bucky replies weakly.

“Doesn’t mean you want to fuck me any less,” Steve retorts cheekily, and Bucky groans. “Stand still,” Steve continues, and then turns around so he can lean his back to Bucky’s front. He moves his hips a bit until he can feel Bucky’s erection pressing against his ass and then grinds back against him, eliciting a surprised moan from Bucky’s throat. Steve shushes him, because even though they have privacy, people might still walk by and hear them and that wouldn’t be good.

Bucky pounds one fist back against the wall. “Where the fuck did you learn how do that?” he wheezes through gritted teeth.

Steve does it again and Bucky bangs his head back against the wall to keep from shouting a curse. Steve gives him an innocent little smile from over his shoulder and shrugs. “Spent a lot of nights watching the gals on the USO tour doin’ stuff like this. Put your hands on my waist.”

Bucky doesn’t need to be told twice. He stares at the back of Steve’s head before his eyes roll up and close as Steve grinds back to him a third time. “You fuck any of ‘em?” he breathes.

Steve rolls back harder and Bucky digs his fingers into the meat of Steve’s just as muscular hips. “A few,” he admits, because he wouldn’t lie about something like that.

To his surprise, Bucky grunts and rocks his hips forward at the admission. “Did you like it?”

Steve closes his eyes and moans softly at the feel of Bucky’s cock rubbing back just as roughly to his ass. He nods. “I get why you did it so much,” he jokes, but then adds, “not as good as you, though.”

“Such a mind-fuck, Stevie,” Bucky chokes out, and then Steve cuts in and gives him permission to pulls his spandex tights down, so Bucky’s hands quickly fumble fast to do so. “This is fuckin’ crazy, I mean, look at you,” he continues, and now Steve’s working to pull them off his legs as well. “On the one hand, I wanna watch you fuck just so I can see what this body looks like in action. But on the other, I don’t want anyone else touchin’ you but me. You’re gonna drive me insane; you’re gonna kill me, Steve.”

Steve’s fully naked now. There’s something about him being so exposed while Bucky is still completely clothed that is a major turn-on. He stops grinding against Bucky and just leans against him, mindful not to press back too roughly and smother his best friend. “Touch my dick,” he whispers, dropping his head back against the wall next to Bucky’s. Bucky rests his chin on the blond’s shoulder and wraps his hand around Steve’s erection. The second he closes his fist around it, he stops and makes an embarrassingly startled sound next to Steve’s ear.

“Yeah, no, Steve, I need to fuckin’ see this thing,” he demands. Steve knows he’s referring to the very obvious increase in size; Steve was never small per say, but he was never this big before. Steve shakes his head and answers, “Not yet.”


“Touch me…”

Bucky groans and presses his face into Steve’s neck, biting down roughly as he starts to jerk him off. He touches Steve like his hand is memorizing the new feel of him; swiping his thumb along a vein and taking a moment to tease the tip and feel it between his fingers. He plays with the foreskin and breathes roughly against Steve’s skin as he starts to kiss and suck on one spot as though he plans to eat Steve alive. Steve, on the other hand, is still getting used to the way the serum makes every touch ultra sensitive – especially for his cock. Within a minute, he’s leaking so much precome that Bucky’s hand is gliding over him effortlessly, making small, wet sounds.

“Let me see… Steve, please, let me see…” Bucky begs.

Finally, Steve nods. Yeah, he can let him see if he wants – nothing wrong with that. It’s a shame that means Bucky has to take his hand off of him for a second, but then Steve’s facing him and Bucky’s outright gaping at the sight of his flushed dick.

“Yeah, I want that in me,” Bucky says without thinking. A thrill runs through Steve because Bucky’s never shown interest in bottoming before. But then Bucky adds, “Not tonight, I mean. I’m not fuckin’ crazy. But… yeah, one day, you’re fuckin’ me stupid with that thing.”

“Won’t hear any complaints from me,” Steve replies.

Bucky licks his lips. “I don’t even think I could take all of that anymore,” he admits. Not that that’s going to deter him. “I wanna suck you off ‘till you come.”

“Well that’s not what I want,” Steve says simply. Bucky looks up at him and furrows his brows, and that’s when Steve steps back towards him again and takes the hem of Bucky’s shirt in his hands. Tugging it up the brunet’s stomach, he looks Bucky dead in the eyes and says, “Just because my body’s changed doesn’t mean it doesn’t still like the same things. I don’t care if I’m bigger than you now… You’re gonna fuck me until we both come.”

“I don’t have any condoms,” Bucky squeaks, but he raises his arms above his head anyways so Steve can shed the shirt from his skin. His dog tags clink together and then fall back into the center of his chest, and Steve’s eyes drop to them, surprisingly aroused at the sound.

“I don’t care,” he admits. “I can’t catch anything now; can’t get sick. You can do whatever you want to me and I’ll be able to take it, Buck.”


Steve brushes their lips together, now working on unfastening Bucky’s pants. “Fuck me, Sergeant,” he murmurs. “That’s an order.”

“We could get caught,” Bucky argues weakly, but then Steve’s pushing his hand down into Bucky’s underwear and finding his erection; strokes it.

“We won’t get caught,” he promises.

“You’re the worst,” Bucky pants, eyes squeezing back shut. “You’re the worst influence o-on me… God…” He starts jerking Steve off again, too. “Fuck, I wanna fuck you so bad…”

Steve slams their mouths together. Bucky whines deep in his throat and then their hands are flying over each other as fast-paced and as hectically as Steve had been denying him before. By the time Steve’s on his back on the bed and Bucky’s knelt between his legs, bobbing his head along his cock and trying to fit as much of it inside as he can, Steve’s in a permanent tableau of his head hanging back between his shoulder blades with his legs tipped apart obscenely wide. All he can do is breathe out tiny moans and the breathless word yes over and over.

And though Steve is indeed the bigger man now, he still whines just as needily for Bucky’s cock by the time he’s stretched enough for Bucky to work it inside of him. Erskine’s serum’s made him virginally tight, no matter the preparation and consideration taken beforehand, and Bucky has to stop more than several times so he doesn’t blow his load without getting Steve off, too. He pounds Steve into the bed, feeling more powerful than ever at seeing the man that the entire world wants not wanting no one but him. Bucky realizes that nothing can change that. And when he has Steve on his back so they can kiss while he fucks into him, it’s like he’s back in Brooklyn, in a world where there is no war. Steve understands because he’s right there with him.

Bucky makes him come just as effortlessly as he knew how to do back when he was little, only it’s so much more intense now. Steve spends the last five or so minutes of Bucky thrusting into him with Bucky’s dog tags between his teeth in an attempt to stifle his sounds. The metallic taste on his tongue mixed with Bucky’s wheezing in his ear and his perfect cock drilling Steve’s prostate makes him finally lose it.

Bucky can’t help but follow suit moments later, and they don’t get caught, and Steve may be a bad influence, but he also knows that Bucky’s walking with far less heavy a burden on his shoulders the next day. That makes up for it, he thinks.



This is the last straw.

It’d been one thing for Steve to try and sneak the odd handjob beneath the blankets whenever they were surrounded by all of the other Avengers on their weekly Friday Movie Nights. It was also starting to get frustrating when Tony would suggest something stupid like, for example, strip poker, and Steve would pretend to be all bashful and hesitant at the idea, only to purposely flop his hands just so he could get naked and find little ways to get Bucky’s imagination going as he laid his eyes on all that bare, flawless skin. (Bucky knows Steve’s actually really fucking good at poker. He should know; he’s the one who taught him and Bucky never loses.)

Usually, Steve’s methods of torture when they were with the others were just as cruel as when they were alone – but they were subtle; things that he exacted like a pro, things that no one else but Bucky seemed to notice. Steve pretends he sucks at poker but his poker face is unmatched. He usually never opts for things that could get himself caught.

Was it Clint’s idea that they turn Stark’s living room into their own personal nightclub for the evening, or was that Sam’s? Bucky can’t remember, but he’s going to skin whichever one it was alive. Because they’ve all been drinking, and inhibitions go down when that happens. Steve had been wrong – it’s not that he can’t get drunk, he just needs something strong enough and needs it in large doses. He usually won’t stay intoxicated for long, but for his most recent birthday, Stark order something expensive all the way from over in Europe that had a dangerously high alcohol percentage. More than a few shots and it could land a normal person in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.

For Steve - who downs half the bottle in three large chugs - it gets him just on the right side of tipsy, and it can last him at least an hour before it wears off.

The Avengers like inebriated Steve because inebriated Steve is that guy at the party who’s down for anything. It’s the one time where the rest of the world can see the side of him that it feels like only Bucky’s ever seen. Even Stark thinks the Captain is a riot and is constantly making comments about how he wishes ‘Capsicle could be this laid back every day.’ And yeah, Bucky likes it too, because he and Steve used to get drunk a lot together back in the day and the nostalgia feels nice.

Here’s where it stops being fun and games: when Steve’s bordering on drunk, he becomes the world’s biggest tease and he stops caring who knows it. Bucky knows from experience that Talia is sort of the same way. She’s a woman who exudes nothing but a strong, unfaltering confidence and security in herself – and when sober, she’s the girl who will never give away what she’s thinking. She’s so serious that she rarely even laughs, though she smiles a lot more than she used to in the Red Room. Bucky knows that probably has a lot to do with Clint, and that makes him happy for her.

But when she lets herself get intoxicated – which says a lot because she only lets those walls down if she’s with people she really feels she can trust – she’s a tease, too. Most of the night, she’s spent toying with Clint. Bucky’s surprised the archer hasn’t just grabbed her and made off for the bathroom or some other quiet place yet. But you don’t do that with Natalia; she’ll only give it up when she chooses to.

She likes to play games. Steve likes to play games. And apparently during their time together in DC, working together when Bucky had been the Winter Soldier, they’d developed quite the friendship. Putting them in the same room together when they’re both drunk is a rarity, and a bad idea. Putting them in the same room together when they’re drunk and the lights are low and there’s loud music with a heavy bass pumping around them and they decide they’re going to dance? Worse idea.

Steve only likes this kind of music when he’s intoxicated (which means, not very often). And the guy sucks at dancing, but swaying your hips back and forth with someone in front of you doesn’t really constitute as ‘dancing’, does it? An imbecile with a peg leg and one brain cell could figure it out. Steve, as it happens, is very good at it.

The only reason he’s dancing with Talia is because Bucky had initially refused; not because he wasn’t interested, he just was a little danced-out from earlier and wanted a break. He was actually in the middle of chatting with Sam and Clint when Clint stopped looking at him and was now staring over his shoulder.

“Sweet mother of god,” is all he says. Curiously, Bucky turns his head and then his mouth falls open.

Steve and Talia are laughing – the sound deafened by the music – but Steve’s pressed up to her back with his hands wrapped around her lower waist. She’s got one hand on the back of his hip and the other in his short, golden hair, and the bass is slow and sexy, and together they rock their hips from side to side. They’re like brother and sister; everyone knows that and Bucky certainly knows that, so there’s nothing to be threatened by. That’s not why it gets to him.

It gets to him because they’re grinding together so filthily and they keep murmuring things to each other that no one else can hear – and then they keep glancing over to them so Talia can lock eyes with Clint and wink, and Steve can get the most Cheshire-cat-sort of grins while he shamelessly looks Bucky up and down.

Bucky and the other two just stand there like a bunch of idiots and watch, unable to tear their eyes away. Together, Steve and Talia are the sexiest things Bucky’s ever seen – but Steve, fuck, Steve is out of this world when he’s like this. He’s hardly part of this world when he’s sober. No, even that isn’t the worst part. The worst part is that Talia actually has a lollipop on her hand – who the fuck thought it was a good idea to let her have one of those!? – and every few seconds, she’ll suck on it and stare at Clint like she’s plotting out her strategy and he’ll have no choice but to just go with it. They don’t call her the Black Widow for nothing.

But then she’s turning her face towards Steve, resting the back of her head on his shoulder while their hips still sway from side to side, and she’s saying something to him. Steve’s eyes are glassy with mirth even from the other side of the room, and he grins and says something back. Then the redhead is holding up the lollipop in front of his mouth, and Steve tips his face forward and closes his lips over it… Sucks on it… Twirls his tongue around it… And meets Bucky’s gaze.

Yep. Game over.

Bucky’s crossing the room and cutting in before he can even think about it. Talia doesn’t even look offended; just smirks and says something like, “Was wondering how long it’d take you. Steve, you owe me ten bucks.” Then she’s walking away and grabbing Clint’s hand and off they go – to where, who the fuck cares because Bucky’s yanking Steve to his chest and grabbing his hips with brutal force and picking up where she left off. He presses his forehead to Steve’s and stares those familiar daggers into his eyes as their hips grind against each other and move to the beat of the music, and Steve’s such a fucker because he’s still sucking on that red little lollipop.

“You think you’re so clever,” Bucky snarls, but he’s hard as a rock against Steve. He’s so unbelievably fucking aroused.

Steve pulls the lollipop from his sin of a mouth and grins. “I am clever; got you over here, didn’t I?”

“Bathroom, now,” Bucky snaps, grabbing Steve’s collar and forcibly dragging the blond behind him with his metal hand. The second they’re in there, he’s got Steve pushed up against the counter. The lollipop is still in one hand, but the other is flying around Bucky’s back and clinging to him whorishly.

“You wanted this,” Bucky muses, growling as he yanks Steve out of his shirt. Steve just smirks, undeterred by the accusation. Why deny it when the asshole can revel in it? “Could’ve just asked.”

“Why ask when this is so much more fun?” Steve challenges.

Bucky starts undoing Steve’s belt. “M’gonna fuck you while you watch in the mirror.” Steve just moans excitedly and works to strip Bucky of his own clothes. “You’re a goddamn little slut when you get drunk, you know that?” he husks, shoving Steve back so he’s bending backwards against the counter, and granting Bucky access to lave at his chest and nipples with his tongue.

Your slut,” Steve corrects, eyes closed and smiling.

My slut,” Bucky agrees. He bites down on Steve’s right nipple and the blond cries out blissfully.

They work quick and hastily to get naked and prepare Steve’s tight little asshole. Steve drops to his knees and deep-throats Bucky’s cock to get him slick with spit. When Bucky eventually manhandles him around and uses his metal hand to roughly shove Steve down chest-first against the counter, he stops Steve when the latter makes to toss the lollipop into the garbage.

“No, keep it,” Bucky insists. “Suck on it, like you would my cock. Wanna watch you.”

He has the tip of his dick pressed to Steve’s entrance. The blond looks into the mirror and makes eye contact with Bucky through his reflection. Steve gives him a devilish grin and then rolls the lollipop around on his tongue before giving it one luxurious suck. Bucky can’t stand it anymore and slams into him, making Steve’s eyes squeeze shut and his mouth fall open with a hoarse, elated cry. Bucky fucks him mercilessly, even long after the affects of the alcohol wear off and Steve’s returned to sobriety again, but the Captain’s moans never die down. They stare at each other through the mirror and Steve plays with the candy on his tongue, and Bucky eventually pumps his ass full of come while he thanks god for dirty dancing and lollipops.


The Very Next Day

Bucky thinks a little payback is in order. And maybe this is pushing it just a tad, but after all the years of Steve being such a little teasing shit, he thinks he’s earned the right to this. It’s the only reason he spontaneously offers to join Steve to the blond’s usual Sunday sermon.

Church. Bucky used to go just as regularly, back before the war; before he’d stopped believing in god. He would’ve never done something this awful back then – would’ve been scandalized at the mere suggestion. But as they enter and go take their seats (Bucky asks Steve if they can sit in the very last pew because, let’s face it, he’s not completely comfortable being there in the first place anymore), a thrill of excitement paces through Bucky’s body.

Church is the one place Steve would never dream of doing anything even remotely blasphemous.

He tells himself that if Steve really wants him to stop, he will. He’s not about to go forcing anything on his boyfriend just to prove a point. He waits until the priest is about twenty minutes in to sneak a proper glance at Steve. He looks so handsome in his Sunday best, and for just a fraction of a second, Bucky feels guilt. Of course, then he remembers every single thing Steve had ever put him through and how much of a farce a good chunk of his ‘Boy Scout’ persona is, and the guilt is gone.

There’s no one around them for a few rows. He keeps his eyes ahead of him and adopts the same poker face Steve had worn in the boardroom, that time he’d been a little shit with that vibrator. When he first reaches over and puts his flesh hand on Steve’s thigh, Steve misinterprets the gesture; places one hand over Bucky’s and gives it a small squeeze. Yeah, no, this isn’t like that, Rogers.

Bucky rubs Steve’s thigh back and forth for a couple minutes before sneaking it up and casually rubbing it over his boyfriend’s crotch. He feels Steve freeze beneath him. Steve’s hand flies to his wrist and grabs it, but he doesn’t shove him away, just… stops him for a second.

“Bucky,” Steve whispers under his breath as he looks around quickly. It sounds like a warning and gee, doesn’t that sound familiar?

“Shh,” Bucky pretends to scold him quietly. “The priest is talking.”

He squeezes. Steve jolts and sucks in a breath and then hisses, “Stop.”

Bucky doesn’t remove his hand but he does take pause. “Do you really want me to stop, or are you just saying that because of where we are right now?” he asks, needing to make sure. If Steve really wants him to stop, he’ll stop. He can always exact his revenge when they get out of there.

But to his delight, Steve fumbles over his words. “I… I don’t… I mean, this… No, I mean yes, but…”

One side of Bucky’s mouth curls up into an impish grin. “You want this,” he offers, and then starts rubbing his hand over Steve’s crotch again.


“You want me,” Bucky interrupts in a whisper and squeezes him again. He continues to look ahead but he hears the tiny inhale Steve takes through his nose, and he feels Steve hardening beneath his hand. He’d sat on Steve’s left on purpose. “Stay quiet, Stevie,” Bucky warns. “Don’t wanna draw any attention to ourselves.”

Steve tries to fight it; tries real hard. Bucky’s hard too by the time he’s feeling his way around the length of Steve’s cock beneath the material of his pants; brushes his thumb over the little line where his tip is and knowing how bad he’s got Steve trying not to squirm right now. For a brief second, Bucky considers getting down onto his knees behind the safety of the pew in front of them and just outright sucking Steve off. But that’d be taking it too far, and even he knows that.

The sermon only lasts for another twenty minutes or so, and like the meeting, Bucky doesn’t hear a single word. Steve’s biting his bottom lip so hard that it’s almost as red as the flush on his cheeks. When it’s finally finished, Bucky’s already got a new idea. It’s awful and if there’s a Hell, he’s going to it, but fuck it, Steve’s put him through just as bad of things. Everyone starts standing and many of the Church-goers are heading towards the priest to have words with him; probably thank him for the day’s lessons. Bucky uses the distraction to grab Steve’s wrist and pull him to his feet. Looking around quickly, Bucky runs straight for the confession booth and opens the door. He shoves Steve inside, who’s stammering out his protests, and then crams in there with him, shutting the door behind them.

“Bucky!” Steve hisses, trying to bat the brunet’s hands away. “We can’t do this here!”

“Why not?” Bucky replies, already sliding Steve’s belt open. “It’ll be hot as hell.”

“That’s not funny!”

“M’not tryin’ to be funny,” Bucky replies. He grabs the back of Steve’s neck and crushes their lips together. Steve makes a sound in his throat and tries not to kiss back at first, but his anatomy doesn’t lie, because he’s still hard as a rock against Bucky’s thigh. Bucky pushes his tongue against Steve’s lips and pries them open, and eventually Steve becomes compliant and accepts it into his mouth.

They kiss for a bit, until Steve breaks away and shakes his head. “No, Buck, we can’t,” he insists breathlessly. “This isn’t right.”

Steve isn’t the only determined fucker in the relationship. Bucky palms Steve’s shoulders and forces him down onto the ledge where the confessor is supposed to sit, before shifting a bit and wedging himself down on his knees between Steve’s legs and the door. It’s a really tight squeeze and Bucky feels like an accordion, but it’s still doable – and now he can work on pulling Steve’s pants just enough down his hips to free his erection.

“I thought god was all about you lovin’ thy neighbour, Stevie,” he argues. It’s funny – for someone who’s apparently against this idea (and Bucky knows it is a real awful one), Steve still lifts his hips a bit to give Bucky the room to tug his dress slacks down.

“You can’t quote the Bible out of context to try and make this okay,” Steve hisses.

Fuck, baby, look how hard you are,” Bucky breathes, Steve’s erection in his hand now. Steve’s face burns about seven deadly shades of red because he can’t really deny the evidence right in front of them. Bucky licks up the length and then glances up at him. “I’ll buy you a rosary or something,” he offers. “You can say fifty Hail Mary’s before bed tonight.”

“Fifty ain’t gonna cover it,” Steve snaps back.

“God will forgive you.”

“Buck – stop, I… Bucky…”

“I’ll make it so good for you,” Bucky promises in a sultry voice, before bending down and kissing the tip of his already-leaking dick. Steve’s hand flies into his hair and clutches painfully, and Bucky thinks he’s about to yank his head back and really put a stop to it--

When they suddenly hear movements and the door next to them opening.

“Shh!” Steve hisses, fear painting his face. Bucky freezes, holding his breath. There’s shuffling next to them and then the door closes, and for a second, everything stops and the moment is suspended around them. There’s a small window-sort of box next to Steve’s face that has what looks like mesh or something filling it. Bucky isn’t familiar with these sorts of confessional booths – it used to just be a thin curtain separating you from the Father from what he remembers – but it’s enough that the priest can’t see Steve and he thinks that’s the point. Suddenly, a voice:

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Steve’s supposed to reply now. But he’s too busy seizing up like a statue and choking on his own tongue because Jesus Christ, even Bucky hadn’t planned for this to happen. He hadn’t really thought past getting Steve in there in the first place. Bucky glances up at him – sees Steve eyeing the little box that connects him to the priest with wide eyes and a face of shock – and makes the smallest of “psst” sounds. Steve quickly looks down at him. Bucky mouths the word talk.

The blond nods, just the tiniest bit, and clears his throat.

“Uh… Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he recites. “It’s been one week since my last confession.”

Bucky has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Steve does this every week? What is there to confess about? The Winter Soldier in him feels the sudden paranoia that, what if Steve’s confessed about stuff he’s done with Bucky? But he knows that’s just him being childish. He’d never make Steve feel bad about his faith, or how he chooses to live with it.

The truly shocking part is that Steve’s erection hasn’t flagged down yet, not even a little. That says something if anything else ever did. Bucky arches an eyebrow at the sight and then feels that horrible dark urge swirl around in his lower belly again.

“Confess your sins to me, my child,” the priest responds. “There is no judgement in the house of the Lord.”

See? Bucky wants to say, but for now, he’s not allowed to talk. The priest doesn’t even know he’s there.

The priest doesn’t even know he’s there.

Bucky’s cock gives a strong twitch and suddenly arousal is fogging Bucky’s head and making him feel dizzy. Without thinking, he ducks down and wraps his lips around Steve cock. With one swift motion, he takes him all the way down into his throat and rubs his tongue against the underside. Steve jolts and grunts. The priest asks him if he’s alright. It takes Steve a second, but then he’s forcing out, “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I… I…”

Don’t blow it, Captain. How good’s your training?

Steve starts talking, starts confessing. He asks for forgiveness for the sins of pride, envy (that’s interesting), and for engaging in sexual intercourse outside of marriage (okay, that’s also interesting; Bucky slots that away for later consideration). He goes into a bit more detail than that, but as he talks, Bucky fucks his mouth over him. He has to be mindful to breathe entirely through his nose, and even then it has to be kept near inaudible. When he swirls his tongue around the cockhead and then darts the tip against the slit to lick up the mess of precome, Steve tugs on his hair by the roots. Bucky places his hand over Steve’s and gives it a reassuring squeeze – it’s okay, baby, you can do this. It’ll feel so good.

Bucky knows he doesn’t have a whole lot of time thanks to the priest joining them. He can hear the voice in the adjoining booth saying something back before he’s absolving Steve of his sins and Bucky just thinks, You have no idea. He hollows out his cheeks and sucks him faster, and Steve shudders beneath him but makes no sound.

“Th-Thank you,” Steve forces out. Bucky thinks it’s being said to the priest – and maybe on some level, it is – but when he glances up at Steve’s face, Steve’s staring at him; nose scrunched up, eyebrows tightly knit, looking about a second away from falling apart. Bucky releases the smallest exhale, his mouth completely full, and blinks slowly. Steve nods and then leans his head back so it’s resting against the wall. His mouth falls open silently.

“If it’s okay, I just need a moment with… my thoughts,” Steve says. Good save. The priests replies with a gentle of course and then Bucky hears the door opening and shutting again. Steve waits a few seconds and then grabs the back of Bucky’s hair in both hands.

Jesus Christ,” Steve blasphemes under his breath, and suddenly he’s shoving his shoulders back against the wall so he can use what little room he has to thrust his hips up into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s eyes roll into his head because fuck yeah, that’s so fucking sexy, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut and whispers, “Don’t stop, oh, please…”

Bucky wouldn’t dream of it. Steve will be feeling guilty for it later, and Bucky will actually make it up to him because he’s not actually an asshole. But for now, Steve wants it, and Bucky wants it, and this is going to happen. He moves his mouth along him faster, harder; meets the snapping up of Steve’s hips and squeezes his eyes shut when he feels like he’s about to gag. He grinds his metal hand against his crotch to stop himself from setting off. He can take care of that once he gets home.

Fuck… Fuck…” Steve whispers. He’s falling apart. He starts moving his hips so violently that it’s becoming a little audible around them, and Bucky wants to pull off to warn him to knock it off, but then Steve’s pushing Bucky’s face down and stilling, mouth falling open into a silent scream as he pours hot and full into Bucky’s mouth. It’s easily the most delicious Steve’s ever been on Bucky’s taste buds. Victory’s never tasted so sinful or sweet.

When the waves of his orgasm subside, Steve slumps back onto the ledge and stares at the ceiling of the booth, taking shaky breaths. Bucky takes a large gulp of air and wipes his mouth before helping Steve pull his pants back up. It takes a bit of manoeuvring but eventually, Bucky rises back to his feet.

“I’m going to Hell,” Steve sighs, meeting Bucky’s eyes. But his pupils are still dilated and he looked completely satiated, so he can’t feel that bad about it.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “No you’re not,” he says, helping Steve up. They can barely move now when both of them on their feet, so Bucky whispers, “I’ll go out first and make sure the coast is clear, okay? If it’s not, I’ll make a distraction.”

Steve’s still catching his breath so he only answers with a nod. Bucky slips out of the door and glances around. Pretty much everyone else is gone – probably outside or something – and those who are lingering aren’t anywhere nearby. He glances back at the door and gives it a gentle knock with his knuckles. “You’re fine,” he says.

Steve emerges from the booth. He still looks completely paranoid. He steps forward quickly and darts his head around himself, as if to make sure, and then grabs Bucky’s hand and practically runs from the Church. They don’t stop running even once they’re outside. They’d walked to Church – it’s close enough to the Tower that there’s no need to waste gas on such a short trip – but Steve’s dragging him in the opposite direction of home. In fact, he just seems to be dragging him aimlessly until he finds an empty alleyway. Shoving Bucky against the wall, Steve grabs his throat in his hand. Bucky yelps, but Steve’s eyes are one hundred percent lust, and yeah, Bucky’s pretty much entirely hard again.

“You ever pull that shit again--” he starts.

“You’ll what?” Bucky challenges. “What’re you gonna do to me?”

Steve bites his bottom lip roughly. Bucky has to fight pretty damn hard not to cry out.

“There are lines you don’t cross, Buck!”

Bucky chuckles breathlessly. He clears his throat – Steve’s grabbing him but not nearly hard enough to actually hurt him – and looks upwards, giving a small nod. “As I recall, you’re the one who begged me not to stop.”

Steve opens his mouth to argue and then frowns, eyes trailing down from Bucky’s face. A second later and he sighs, deflating. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he mutters. “But no more of that, k? That was a one time thing.”

“You mean I can’t fuck you on the Father’s desk?” Bucky asks. Steve gives him a sharp look and Bucky throws his hands up. “I’m kidding.”

Steve stares closely at Bucky’s face and then suddenly his harsh demeanour is breaking away and the blond is fighting a small smile. He shakes his head and backs away from Bucky, putting his hands on his hips and looking away in thought.

“That’s gotta be the worst thing we’ve ever done,” he thinks aloud, sounding disbelieving.

“You liked it.”

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” Steve replies, echoing back some of Bucky’s infamous retaliations.

Tell me it wasn’t a little hot that we could’ve been caught so easily,” Bucky dares him, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s belt to pull him closer again so their hips are touching.

Steve looks to him and raises an eyebrow, that telltale glimmer in his baby blues – the one that says, Challenge accepted.

“You’re still hard,” he notices. Bucky just grins and meets his stare.

“Gonna do somethin’ about that, Cap?”

Steve leans in close, brushing their lips back together. “M’gonna fuck you until you cry the second we get back home.”

“How sacrilegious,” Bucky murmurs, tilting his chin up to try and kiss the blond. Steve teasingly pulls away but keeps his mouth close.

“You’re the worst influence, you know,” Steve says warningly. “You’re the biggest little shit I’ve ever met.”

Bucky grins against his mouth, proud and filthy. “Gee… Where do you think I learned it from?"