Chapter Text
Bucky cursed roundly, head falling back against his pillow with a thump as he struggled to get himself back under control. Staring up at the ceiling, he focused on his breathing, counting the seconds between each inhale and exhale until his hand unclenched enough to drop uselessly to his side on the bed. He didn’t even know what had possessed him to try again, as if this time would somehow be any different to all the other countless times he’d tried and failed.
And he'd tried fucking everything by this point. Every position he could think of, using his flesh and metal hands, one or the other or both. He'd tried rutting against the bed, humping his pillow, he’d even tried stroking himself in a big fluffy bubble bath surrounded by tealights, as if he were attempting to seduce himself like a woman in some ridiculous modern movie. Nothing worked. As soon as he started getting close his body would seize up, shutting down any attempt at movement until he'd recovered enough control for his fucked up mind to understand that he wasn't under attack. Or at least that was the only explanation he'd been able to come up with for why his body absolutely refused to allow him to come.
He'd been told that Hydra had blocked all his sexual impulses with drugs, but they had been out of his system for a long time now and, despite what he'd thought for the best part of seventy years, he was apparently still human. Once he'd settled down into a life of sorts, living in Steve's spare room, eating and drinking, sleeping and exercising, he'd rediscovered a whole lot more about what it meant to be a man. He'd spent hours on the Internet, preferring to learn things for himself rather than relying on Steve to help him with every tiny detail, and he'd inevitably stumbled across some porn during his 'research'. One thing had naturally led to another and he'd reacted as most men would when confronted with certain material.
Of course his memories from before were still sketchy at best, but he remembered enough to know he'd hardly been a saint back in his youth. He remembered jerking off, he remembered having sex, he remembered, vaguely at least, how it felt to come, but apparently those hazy memories were all he would ever have, because it didn't look like it was ever going to happen again.
Not for the first time he thought about getting himself a hooker. He knew he didn't have the social skills to pick up a girl the way he once could have done, but surely there was someone out there he could pay to lend him a helping hand. The trouble was, he didn't trust himself. Who knew what might happen if he lost control and the last thing he wanted to do was risk hurting someone just because he wanted to get his rocks off. He'd even considered hiring a muscle-packed hulk of a man for the job, figuring a hand was a hand no matter who it was attached to, but even that seemed too much of a risk, after all, he was no ordinary man even without his metal arm and with it… Well it wasn't even worth thinking about. He needed someone that he knew could handle him at his worst and short of asking an Avenger for help, he didn't know what else to do. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure that was not a service the helpful heroes provided as standard.
Of course, there was Steve. There had always been Steve and Bucky knew without having to ask that his oldest friend would help him without a second thought. Steve would do anything for him and he appreciated that more than he could ever begin to express, but this… It was too much. He couldn't put him in that position, not when he knew the other man would never dream of telling him no, no matter how uncomfortable he might feel. So that was all there was to it; he wouldn't ask Steve, couldn't ask anyone else and he was just going to have to learn to live with it.
Only it was significantly easier said than done and as the weeks crawled past, he found it increasingly difficult to just 'live with it'. He was hard all the damn time and there was only so much he could do to simply will away his erection. In the end it all came to a head, so to speak, when a particularly vivid dream left him grinding against the mattress before he'd fully returned to consciousness. Barely awake, but already halfway to coming, his hips moved automatically, desperately, against the sheets and fuck he was so close, he only needed a little more.
Except as the pleasure hovered just short of its peak, a soft groan escaped him, barely audible, and yet it was enough. The low sound dragged him just a fraction closer to wakefulness and that was all it took for his body to seize up once again, his hips locking and effectively paralysing him. The cry of sheer frustration that escaped him broke through the last dregs of sleep and he jerked fully awake to find himself still half frozen in place, his body screaming for the release he couldn't give it.
Burying his face in the pillow he muffled another desperate cry as he heard a quiet knock, followed by the sound of the door opening and the soft pad of Steve's footsteps. "Buck? You ok?" A hand touched his shoulder and he bit back a groan, even the innocent contact feeling like a teasing caress to his overstimulated body.
"Fine, I'm fine," his voice was rough as he struggled against the temporary paralysis, finally managing to roll onto his back with a huff of frustration.
"You sure?" The hand squeezed and his eyes fluttered shut, fighting suddenly to remain still rather than pressing into the touch.
"Yes."
The word was little more than a hiss and he knew without having to look that it was never going to pacify his overprotective friend. Sucking in a shaky breath he opened his eyes to meet that all too familiar concerned gaze, meaning to try again, but then Steve's thumb rubbed a soothing circle into his skin and the word stuck in his throat.
"No," he admitted tiredly.
"What's wrong?" Steve sat down on the bed beside him, still lightly gripping Bucky's shoulder between sure warm fingers, "Nightmare?"
Shaking his head, he blew out a breath, wondering if he could really do this, but then the other man's hand shifted again and Bucky's hips jerked and suddenly he wasn't sure he had all that much of a choice. He was going to go crazy if he didn't get some relief soon and yeah, asking his best friend to jerk him off wasn't exactly normal, but then what the fuck about his whole damn life now could ever be considered normal?
"I think I need a hand with something."
"Anything, you know that," Steve assured him, eyes still full of concern, "What do you need?"
"Need?" he echoed roughly, "I need to come."
"You… What?" His friend's face twisted with confusion, but his fingers didn't stop their slow caress of Bucky's shoulder.
"I need to come," he repeated wearily, "I keep trying, but I can't. Whenever I try to jerk off my body has a fucking fit and shuts down and I fucking can't." His voice cracked on a sudden sob, "Please Steve, I know this is all kinds of fucked up, but I need..."
"Ok," the other man agreed quietly when Bucky trailed off helplessly.
"Ok?" his brows shot up, heart skipping a beat. Apparently knowing Steve would agree wasn't quite the same as hearing him say it.
"What do you need me to do?"
"I don't know," he admitted awkwardly, "just touch me, I guess?"
In lieu of replying out loud, Steve simply shifted his hand lower, trailing it cautiously down the bare skin of Bucky's chest until it slipped under the covers. His friend wasn't looking at him, his eyes locked instead on the progress of his own hand down Bucky's body, but that only made it easier and rather than overthinking things, he let his own attention focus on the soft pressure of the other man's touch sliding over his skin.
He was still painfully hard and at the first brush of fingers over the fabric covering his aching erection, his hips jerked wildly, desperately seeking friction. Much to his relief, Steve quickly obliged, sliding his hand into Bucky's sleep pants and wrapping his fingers around his length. There was no hesitation as he started to stroke and Bucky found himself praising every deity he knew for giving him a friend like Steve Rogers.
The other man's hand was warm and steady, gripping with just the right amount of pressure and he couldn't contain his groan of pleasure at the sensation. He'd forgotten how much better it felt when someone else did this to him and he didn't even try to hold back, driving himself into Steve's fist. He'd been so close already, he was certain that it wasn't going to last long, but he almost wished it would, because his friend was really damn good at this. His fingers moved smoothly over Bucky’s cock, working it with sure, firm strokes. Every now and then he'd slide up to palm the head, collecting the wetness that had gathered there to ease the glide of his hand and sending an extra shiver of sensation skating down Bucky's spine in the process.
It was more than enough to leave him panting and as he got closer to the edge, hips thrusting urgently into the other man's fist, he wondered if maybe this was all he'd needed, to have someone else in the driving seat. Only then Steve squeezed just a little harder, sending a spike of pleasure right through him, and exactly as it had every time before, Bucky's body seized up, leaving him half paralysed and no longer capable of arching up to meet Steve's perfect strokes.
Letting out a sob of frustration, he fell back against the mattress, all but frozen in place, only Steve was still there and he didn't even falter.
"It's ok, I've got you," his friend murmured, shifting until he was lying beside him on the bed, tucking his free arm around Bucky's shoulders and holding him close even as he continued to work him over.
"Please," he whispered back brokenly, still fruitlessly battling his own body.
"Relax," Steve told him gently, "Don't fight it, just let it come."
Closing his eyes, he tried to do as he'd been bid and it helped a little. He still couldn't move, but with the other man moving for him, for once that didn't matter so much. Despite his body's best efforts, the feelings in him continued to build, the tension coiling tighter and tighter and still Steve's hand stroked over him, driving him closer and closer to breaking point.
He knew that in any other circumstance he'd have been embarrassed by the pathetically needy whimpers falling desperately from his lips, but now he was too far gone to care. He was so close he could almost taste it and for almost longer than he could bear, he remained caught on the edge of the precipice, everything in him screaming for a release that seemed just out of reach.
Steve was murmuring in his ear, words that he couldn't make sense of but blended together to form a whole new kind of caress. He could feel his body tensing up even more, almost painfully so, could hear the desperate pleas falling from his own lips as he begged for release and just when he was sure he couldn't possibly take any more, he came. It was so intense that it felt as though he was shattering apart and yet as the tension in his body fractured into pieces, it also finally freed him from its hold. With a cry of pleasure, his hips jerked up, thrusting so hard into Steve's fist that he was sure he'd have dislodged anyone else, only the other man didn't even flinch, continuing to stroke him through it, only releasing him when he collapsed bonelessly back against the sheets.
For a long while the room was all but silent, the quiet broken only by Bucky's heaving breaths as he slowly came down. He felt the gentle scratch of a tissue over his skin as Steve cleaned up the mess on his abdomen before carefully settling his pants back in place, but beyond that the other man didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move and Bucky couldn't help being thankful for that. It felt a little like the only thing grounding him was the arm Steve still had around him. Part of him longed to turn into it, to cuddle up to his friend's chest and sleep there, but even in his blissed out daze, he was pretty sure that was something he wasn't supposed to do. Instead he tilted his head just a little to the side, searching out the other man with his eyes.
"Thank you," he slurred and felt Steve's arm tighten around his shoulder in response.
"Get some sleep," his friend whispered with a soft smile and Bucky hummed back, his eyes already falling closed.
There was a light pressure against his forehead and he wondered vaguely if Steve had kissed him. Only perhaps it had been a dream, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up alone, feeling better than he had in decades.
---
"Morning!" he greeted sunnily as he stepped into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee machine.
"Morning," Steve choked on a laugh, returning Bucky's smile, "Feeling better?"
"You have no idea," he declared as he made himself a drink.
"I'm glad," the other man told him, draining the last of his own coffee as Bucky settled beside him at the kitchen island.
"Seriously, I feel like I could take on the whole of Hydra single handed right now," he turned in his seat to face his friend properly, eyes serious despite the dopey grin he could still feel draped across his lips, "I can't thank you enough."
"Any time," Steve assured him automatically and Bucky couldn't help himself.
"Oh really?" he raised an eyebrow and Steve's ears went pink, but he didn't look away.
"Any time," the other man repeated firmly.
Bucky shook his head bewilderedly, "I don't know what I did to deserve you, Rogers, but whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn't in this lifetime."
"Don't sell yourself short," Steve gave his shoulder a squeeze and Bucky shivered, his heart abruptly picking up speed at the innocent touch.
Swallowing hard, he looked down, taking in the way the other man's fingers looked spread across his bare skin, before glancing back up and meeting Steve's eyes. There was something in his friend's expression that made his chest clench, but then Steve released him, getting up from his seat and tidying his mug into the dishwasher as if nothing had happened.
"Coming for a run?"
"Sure," Bucky agreed weakly, gulping down his coffee, "Let me just go get dressed."
By the time he returned to the living room, the moment had long since passed and as he settled into their usual workout routine it was easily put out of his mind. In fact, aside from the general sense of wellbeing that stayed with him right through the day, he didn't consciously allow himself to think about what Steve had done for him at all. It wasn’t until he turned in for the night that he let it even cross his mind, but once he was safely in bed it suddenly became all but impossible not to think about it.
In the dark, all he could see was Steve’s face and he was almost sure he could smell Steve’s scent, despite the fact he’d changed the sheets earlier in the day. It was ridiculous, he knew, and yet he couldn’t shake it, couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes, his hands, his lips… He wondered again if it had been merely his imagination, or if his friend really had kissed him the night before. He wondered what it would feel like if Steve kissed him properly, their bodies pressed together, lips locked and tongues twined as that big warm hand worked him over again, stroking over his hard cock with that perfect rhythm…
Bucky hadn’t even realised he was moving, trailing his hand down his stomach in a pale imitation of the way Steve had touched him, until his fingers curved mindlessly around his erection, sending a shiver of sensation shooting through him. It also wasn't until that moment that he realised he wasn’t imagining his hard cock either and at that discovery he had to bite back a groan. Stupidly, apparently, he'd hoped last night's release would have sated him for a little while longer, because he didn't want to feel like this again, not yet, because what if he still couldn't? Only even as his thoughts raced, his fingers continued to stroke, his hand moving over his length in the same way Steve's hand had touched him and despite his fears, he couldn't bring himself to stop.
As the sensation built he could feel his body tensing, as much from fear as from pleasure, but he kept going, forcing his hand now, refusing to quit. It was too late to bury his head back in the sand, he just needed to know if he could do this now or not. If Steve had somehow saved him all over again or if he was now beholden to the other man in yet another way.
He was so strung out that he barely had any room left in his head for pleasure. In fact, there was very little about the experience that he was enjoying and he belatedly realised that this time he probably could just stop. Could take his hand away and let the feeling fade on its own and it would probably be more pleasant, but he didn't. He merely kept dragging his hand up and down, eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted, as his body arched stiffly into his fist.
When his orgasm hit, he was so startled that he couldn't bite back his cry of pleasure and he wasn't particularly surprised when the sharp sound was followed barely a minute later by a quiet knock on the door. Before he could summon the brain power to call out, it cracked open and his friend stuck his head through the gap, only to stop where he was when he saw Bucky was wide awake.
"You ok?" Steve's voice was soft like it had been the previous night and Bucky shivered at the sound of it.
"Fine," he forced out between panting breaths, the word coming out sharp and rough, "Experimenting," he added, hoping that would be enough to reassure the other man, despite the way he sounded.
"Oh, right, sorry, I'll just..." Steve's lips twisted, but Bucky couldn't tell if he was amused or embarrassed or something else entirely, "I'll be next door if you need me."
Bucky nodded, not quite sure he trusted himself to speak and Steve disappeared again, closing the door behind him.
He didn't relax until he was sure his friend must have reached his own room, only then allowing himself to melt back into the sheets with a sigh. It took him a second to realise that what he was feeling was disappointment and a moment longer to realise why; that despite his earlier desperation there was a part of him that had hoped he'd have an excuse to ask Steve for help again. Still, the fact that he didn't need to was nothing to be sniffed at. He didn't need anyone's help to come, he could do it all on his own, whenever he liked, as often as he liked. He could do it again right now if he wanted, after all he'd barely even gone soft and he was somehow sure it would only take a few strokes to get himself fully hard again. He really could do it right now if he wanted to and suddenly 'right now' was exactly what he wanted.
Closing his eyes, he settled himself more comfortably against the pillows, trying his best not to think about Steve next door if he needed him. Instead he focused on his own body, attempting to relearn what he did and didn't like through a mix of fractured memories and careful exploration. He discovered that the spot just below his ear made his spine tingle when it was touched and found that he very much liked having his nipples pinched too, though it was only when he was a little mean about it that it really took his breath away.
It made him wonder if he'd always been like that or if the serum had made him less sensitive, but with no way of knowing for sure he brushed the thought aside, simply enjoying the sensation and the effect it had on him. Besides, even if Zola's twisted experiments had fucked up his sensitivity levels, surely they were also to blame for the way his cock now lay thick and heavy against his stomach despite his very recent orgasm. His memories might not be all there, but even he knew that holding an erection like this wasn't exactly normal, especially at his age, cryofreeze notwithstanding.
In fact, he didn't think he'd had this kind of stamina even as a horny teenager. It left him wondering just how many times he could go, how far he could push himself, how long he could keep going before he couldn't get it up any more, but perhaps that was a question for another time. Right now he had a far simpler question to ask himself, a question that he knew could only help him towards the answer to that other question; what did he like? As his thoughts whirled, his fingers continued to play, toying lazily with his chest, until he finally forced himself out of his head, focusing instead on his mission of self-discovery.
In contrast to his nipples, he found that the insides of his thighs were deliciously receptive to the gentlest brush of his fingertips and he shuddered helplessly at even the softest strokes. His balls were another sensitive area, but his cock itself needed to be taken firmly in hand to make him feel really good, just the way Steve had done it. In fact, Steve had seemed to know exactly how he needed to be touched and it made him wonder if that was how the other man liked it too.
It had been nothing more than a wayward thought, but at the mental image that sprung abruptly to life in his head, his already sticky cock fairly pulsed in his hand. For a breathless second he thought he might be about to come again, nearly tumbling over the edge from the mere thought of Steve touching himself. He held on just barely, but he was suddenly so fucking hard he ached with it and he couldn't resist the urge to speed up his movements, stroking himself roughly as he imagined his friend doing the same thing on the other side of the wall.
Except... He shouldn't be thinking about that he realised abruptly, dragging his hand away from his cock in a desperate effort to control himself, as well as to get a handle on his wayward thoughts. Because yeah he was grateful, so ridiculously fucking grateful for what Steve had done for him, but thinking about his friend like that... It felt like he was betraying his trust somehow. As if he was taking the beauty of the gift that Steve had given him with his help and twisting it into something dirty.
Forcing his eyes open, he tried to push the images aside, tried to focus on his own body rather than the one in his head. Looking down at himself, he took in the way his cock looked curving up over his abdomen, the way his hand looked, clenched in a tight fist against his hip, but all it did was remind him of how it had felt when Steve's hand had been the one to bring him pleasure.
With a muffled groan, Bucky forced his right hand down onto the bed, instead wrapping the fingers of his left around his throbbing erection. At least he wouldn't mistake solid fucking metal for the feel of Steve's warm hand and he was too close now to stop completely. Besides, he didn't want to stop. He wanted this. Wanted to prove that it wouldn't be like the last time, that he could make it good for himself even without his friend helping him. He meant it too, he wanted to do this alone, but it didn't stop him wanting Steve either. Didn't stop him thinking about Steve's promise as he thrust urgently into his metal fist. He knew the other man hadn't meant anything by it, but locked in the haze of arousal, he couldn't stop playing those words over and over in his head.
He'd be next door, Steve had said, if Bucky needed him. Only he hadn't specified what he might need him for. What if Bucky did need him? Not the way he had needed him last night, but in a different, simpler way. In the way one person might need another, to hold them and kiss them and touch them. What if he took Steve at his word? Went looking for him next door, told him he needed him, asked him to help again? Would he?
And fuck he was close. So close he'd all but forgotten that he wasn't meant to be thinking about his friend right now. So close that a moment later he was muffling a hoarse cry against his knuckles, biting down so hard that he nearly drew blood in a desperate effort to mute the sound of Steve's name on his lips as he came nearly as hard as he had with the other man's perfect hand around his cock.
He lay still for a long time afterwards, concentrating on each slow breath, in and out, in an attempt to distract himself from the mess in his head. He felt guilty as all hell for letting his thoughts run away with him and he didn't dare let his friend's name so much as cross his mind now that he was finished, not trusting himself even that much. He could still feel the faint tingle in his body from his recent orgasm, but he wasn't soft yet and he was almost certain he could drag himself through at least one more without much effort, but he wasn't sure he should. He'd already proved his point, hadn't he? Or had he...? He still hadn't managed to get off without Steve's help, even if that help hadn't exactly been consensual.
It made him feel even worse to think about it like that and yet he couldn't help wondering what his friend would think if he did know, if Bucky actually asked him for permission to think about him while he jerked off. Not that he ever would ask, so it wasn't like it really made a difference, but it didn't stop him picturing Steve's reaction either. His ears would go pink, of course, the colour might even spread to his cheeks, but then he'd probably just smile and tell Bucky to do whatever he needed. Damn Steve with his stupidly big heart and selfless generosity, none of which Bucky was remotely deserving of.
And so much for not thinking about him, he groaned, thumping his head back against the pillow and trying to ignore the way his body had apparently decided that all thoughts of the Captain required that he immediately stand to attention. As if coming twice wasn't more than enough for one night.
"Traitor," he muttered, glaring down at his rigid cock and pointedly not touching it.
It was fine, he could do this. He could do this and not think of Steve at all. He would just think about someone else instead, a girl, one he'd had actual sex with rather than just received a friendly hand job from... He groaned again.
"Get out of my fucking head, Rogers," he gritted under his breath, glaring up at the ceiling for a moment before abruptly rolling onto his stomach, wondering if a change of view would help.
It was certainly a different angle and he hissed as his erection came into sudden contact with the sheet underneath him. He remembered this, he realised, this same position but with the soft curves of a woman caught between him and the mattress. It was a little hazy around the edges, but he thought he remembered the silky feel of nylon covered thighs wrapped around his hips, the gentle scrape of a lace edged camisole catching at the trail of hair bisecting his stomach. He remembered how it felt to sink into slick heat and with a harsh groan, Bucky gave into the urge to touch himself again.
Running his tongue over his left palm a couple of times, figuring a bit of extra lubrication couldn't hurt if he was seriously going for a third, he pushed his metal hand beneath his body, wrapping his fingers around his length yet again. At the same time, he buried his face in the bend of his right arm, his eyes clenched tightly closed as he tried to hang on to the image in his head. She'd been called Evelyn, he thought, and she was by far the most beautiful dame he'd ever managed to coax into his bed. She'd had long blonde hair that came loose from its pins as he fucked her and the fine glimmering strands had wound up fanned out across his pillow like a halo, making her look like a fallen angel. Her smudged red cupid's bow of a mouth had only driven him wilder as she gazed up at him, her clear blue eyes unfathomably trusting even as he thrust into her over and over, dragging her down with him into the inferno.
He was getting close again now and as the tension built higher, he found it harder and harder to hold on to Evelyn's image in his head. The tighter he tried to cling, the worse her features seemed to blur and morph in his mind until all he had left to hang on to was the memory of those warm eyes burning into his as he arched desperately into his fist.
His forehead slid slickly against his arm as he moved faster, his moans echoing around the quiet room, and he was so close he could taste it, he just needed a little more.
"Come on, baby," he whispered to his blue eyed angel, squeezing his fist just a little tighter, and that was enough. With a harsh groan he came, spilling over his hand and onto the sheets beneath him.
It was only after he rolled onto his back, out of the small but not insignificant wet patch, that it occurred to him that he wasn't sure Evelyn had even had blue eyes. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if perhaps they'd been green rather than blue and her hair, though certainly blonde, had been shot through with more than a hint of strawberry. He was also pretty sure that no dame had ever looked at him like that, and certainly not the ones he'd been able to talk out of their clothes. So those blue eyes he'd been so captivated by; the warmth in them and the trust, those eyes that he knew weren't merely a figment of his imagination... Those eyes belonged to someone else entirely and he didn't have to reach far into his mind to work out who. It was Steve who had always looked at him that way. Steve with his clear blue eyes and perfectly sandy coloured locks... It had always been Steve.
"Fuck," he declared to the empty room, throwing his arm over his face as if that could block out the image in his head.
He didn't even know what to think anymore and now he was far too tired to process it. Still, at least in sleep he would be free from all this confusion. After all, there were no soft hands or warm eyes in his dreams and who'd have thought he'd ever have a reason to look forward to one of those hellish nightmares that haunted his sleep. As he closed his eyes, however, allowing his worn out body to slowly sink into oblivion, he almost longed for the simple distraction of his twisted memories of blood and fear.
---
In the end he wasn't sure what he dreamed about, but when he woke the following morning he felt surprisingly well rested. Perhaps three orgasms before bed was the way to go, although he'd have to be careful if he wanted to test that theory again. Given the state of his sheets after his mini-marathon, it wasn't just the lack of nightmares that left him thankful that his sleep had apparently been undisturbed. As he stripped the bed before joining Steve in the kitchen, he was ridiculously relieved that his friend had had no cause to come and rescue him from his subconscious.
On the plus, in the cold light of day, he found it far easier to put things into perspective and he realised that his reaction the previous evening may have been a touch over dramatic. After all, surely it was perfectly natural that Steve would have dominated his thoughts after what had happened between them only the night before. His friend was the only person to have given him physical pleasure in seventy years, it was no wonder he was on his mind and there was no reason to freak out about it. He just needed time to readjust, to find out what worked for him now and what he liked. After all, it wasn't as if he was interested in the kind of women he'd mooned over in his youth. He wasn't that man any more and girls like Evelyn, they were what the old Bucky wanted. The new Bucky... Well he just needed to figure out what this Bucky wanted. He just needed time.
To help the process along a little, he figured he may as well do a little research, see what other guys liked these days and work out if any of that did it for him. He'd always reckoned his tastes were fairly mainstream; the dames he'd courted had often made him the envy of all his friends and as far as he knew, he'd jerked off to exactly the same pinup girls as the rest of the guys down the docks. Sure he'd changed since then, but so had the world. Perhaps he just needed to update his fantasies to go with the times.
That said, the Internet, useful as it was, seemed like quite a daunting prospect and he'd already stumbled across enough things by accident that he wasn't sure he was quite ready to go looking for it on purpose. At least not without some vague idea of where to start. Instead he found himself at a standard little newsstand, picking up a thick glossy magazine that promised to contain over 100 of the hottest women on the planet. Admittedly he didn't have the highest hopes; it seemed like a fairly tall order to begin with and he was familiar enough with the way the press worked now that he could easily see through a hyped up tagline, but it was a starting point and right now that was all he was looking for.
He was curled up in the living room that night after dinner, flicking dispassionately through the pages, when Steve shuffled into the room, distracting him immediately from the spread of airbrushed pictures open in his lap.
"I, er, got you something," Steve's ears were bright red as he dropped down onto the sofa beside him.
"Oh?" he put his magazine aside as his friend offered him a plastic bottle.
"It makes it feel good and it works a lot better than spit. It'll stop you accidentally rubbing yourself raw if you go a few times in one night," Steve explained as Bucky took the proffered bottle, his eyes flicking down to read the label declaring it to be 'personal lubricant', before returning to the other man's faintly flushed face.
"Know that from experience, do you?" he teased.
"I do actually. Never really had the chance to take this for a ride back during the war," Steve gestured vaguely towards his body, "Made up for lost time when I woke up here and turns out I can easily go three or four times in a row."
"What makes you think I can go that many? Whatever they did to me ain't a whole lot like what they did to you."
"I know." His friend's eyes dimmed for a moment, before he grinned suddenly, "But you've never been quiet, Buck."
"You mean you... Fuck," he groaned, wondering exactly how much the other man had heard the previous night, let alone on all those occasions when he'd tried and failed to get himself off, "Sorry, Stevie."
"Don't be, it's infinitely preferable to hearing you waking yourself up screaming in terror and besides, I got used to it a long time ago."
"Back then too?" Bucky gaped, "Why'd you never say anything?"
"What was I meant to say? 'Quit jerking off all the time, I can hear you through the wall'?"
"Well yeah," he laughed.
Steve shrugged, "I didn't mind. Was better than listening to some dame shrieking your name instead."
"They didn't shriek," Bucky retorted, even as he wondered if he really needed to defend the honour of girls probably long since dead, and wasn't that a depressing thought.
"They fucking did," Steve grimaced, "You had that one girlfriend, Millie? Used to sound like you were pulling out her fingernails or something when she came round, it was awful."
"Yeah ok, she did shriek," he agreed with a shudder, a petite brunette immediately springing to mind who had indeed wailed like a banshee whenever he'd made her feel good.
If memory served, and admittedly there was no guarantee that it did, he'd only kept her around as long as he had because she'd been so willing to jump into bed with him. He thought he'd enjoyed it too, even if the more pleasurable details of the relationship seemed far harder to recall than the shrill unpleasantness of the sounds she'd made. He did remember bragging about her mouth to some of the guys down the docks though, so even if he couldn't remember the act itself, it at least suggested she'd been good to him. Bucky was pretty sure he'd only ever talked about the girls that were worth talking about, after all, he'd had enough of them.
"I'm surprised she didn't deafen you," Steve continued, while Bucky continued in his efforts to remember what sex with her had actually been like, "it was bad enough on the other side of the wall and I could only hear out of one ear."
"It was a close thing," he chuckled, before adding with a smirk, "Although if she was as good with her mouth as I think she was, it was probably worth it."
"No blow job could ever be worth listening to that," his friend insisted.
"That's a rather bold statement. You had a lot of blow jobs then?" He wasn't sure why he'd asked the question, only he and Steve hadn't really talked about sex since before the war, back when his best friend was an innocent virgin who'd barely even been kissed and he couldn't help being curious.
"I've had my fair share," Steve admitted, his ears going pink again, "More than, probably. No shortage of people wanting to suck Captain America's dick."
"What about Steve Rogers?" Bucky pressed, easily picking up on what his friend hadn't said.
"A few more than when I was small, perhaps, but not many," he gave Bucky a flat look, "Funny how it's even harder for people to see past this than it was for them to see past the way I used to be."
"Well there's more of you to look past now. Lotta big bulging muscles to get distracted by."
"They don't distract you," Steve pointed out and Bucky suddenly felt horribly guilty for every single filthy thought he'd had the previous night. Not that his friend's appearance, then or now, had anything to do with that, but he'd been objectifying the man just the same.
"Well that's because I'm special," he replied after a beat, well aware that it was a weak retort but incapable of coming up with anything better.
"Yeah, you are," Steve agreed with a fond smile that only made him feel worse, though he couldn't help basking a little in the warmth of the other man's affection.
"You are too, you know," Bucky assured him, the weight of the bottle still resting in his palm only proving his point, "Always were." He waved the gift under Steve's nose, "I mean who else buys their best pal a bottle of 'personal lubricant' when they know it's just gonna end with them being kept up all night listening to his howls through the wall."
"I assure you I'm regretting it already," Steve groaned, but there was laughter in his eyes and he didn't sound remotely sorry, "Might keep the links to myself for now though, try and get an hour or two of peace at least."
"Links? What links?" Bucky sat up a little straighter, his curiosity piqued by the rosy colour once again staining the tips of Steve's ears.
"Guessing you haven't had much chance to look into pornography this century?" the other man nodded towards his discarded magazine.
"I've seen a bit," he admitted, "Mostly by accident though. Wasn't really in a state to go looking for it on purpose before now," he added, shooting his friend a grateful smile.
"I'll send you a few good starting points," Steve promised, "Not sure what you're into these days, but I would ask that you invest in some headphones if girls like Millie still do it for you."
"Punk," Bucky laughed, digging his elbow into the other man's ribs and making him yelp.
"You want those links or not?" Steve warned and Bucky immediately retracted his arm.
"Yes please," he twisted his lips up into his most angelic smile.
Steve just shook his head as something else seemed to occur to him, "Just a tip: if you don't know what something is, you might wanna look up what it means before you click the links."
"Learned that the hard way, did you?"
His friend looked faintly nauseous at that and Bucky made a mental note to follow the advice even as he shot him a teasing grin, "You're still my innocent little Stevie underneath all that, ain't ya?"
"Really not innocent, Buck," Steve snorted and Bucky couldn't help himself.
"Oh? Do tell."
"I'm not giving you a run through of my sexual exploits for you to jerk off to," Steve chided, though his voice was light, obviously not realising how hard his words would hit, "You wanna get off on other people fucking, go watch some porn."
"I might just do that," Bucky declared, turning his back slightly as he got to his feet in the hope of schooling his expression into something a little less guilty before he looked back at his friend. "Thanks for this," he raised the bottle, "I'm sure it'll come in very hand-y," he finished, waggling his eyebrows.
The other man groaned at the pun, rolling his eyes for good measure, but he was still chuckling to himself as Bucky headed towards his bedroom.
He felt a little odd as he closed the door behind him and started to undress, like there was something slightly clinical about coming to bed with the express intention of jerking off. Weird or not, however, he was no less ready for it and when he sprawled across the mattress, the bottle Steve had given him within easy reach, he had no intention of letting the awkwardness of it all stop him from getting off.
Still, he started slow, building himself up to it rather than diving straight in, trailing his fingers over his pecs and pinching his nipples between his fingers until he hissed in pleasure. Only as soon as the sound escaped his mouth, he was biting down hard on his lip in an attempt to stifle himself, conscious for the first time of how he might sound. Not that Steve was next door to hear him right now, so perhaps he didn't have to try and stay quiet this one last time.
Abruptly realising the urgency of his situation, he scrabbled on the bed for the lubricant, wanting to make the most of this brief window of time while Steve was presumably out of earshot. Flipping open the bottle cap, he poured a little of the gel-like substance into his palm, before wrapping his fingers around his cock. It was cool at first, but then so was his other hand, and he barely even shivered at the sensation. At least not until he'd given himself the first full stroke. At that, however, he was almost relieved that he didn't have to stay quiet just yet, because fuck. Steve was right, he realised immediately, it did make it feel good and Bucky's hand began to move almost of its own accord, speeding up without his permission.
The slick sound of his fist sliding rapidly over his cock seemed to echo in the quiet room and he wondered if even that was enough to be audible through the wall. Because sure Steve wasn't there right now, but he would be later or tomorrow or the day after that. So when Bucky inevitably did this again while the other man was in bed, would he hear every stroke of his hand or was it just his groans that were loud enough to get through?
It had never really occurred to him to stay quiet before, hell he hadn't even been aware he wasn't quiet until tonight, and he suddenly found himself incredibly conscious of every sound that came out of his mouth. When he sucked in a sharp breath or gasped in pleasure, he wondered if it was loud enough that Steve might be able to hear it. When he sped up the movement of his hand until he moaned, he wondered if that was the point at which Steve would hear him. When he twisted his wrist, tightening his grip so that he couldn't help but cry out at the sensation, he knew that at least must have been audible through the wall between their bedrooms. And yeah the other man wasn't there now but he would be, he had been. He'd heard it all. While Bucky had lain there touching himself and thinking of Steve, Steve had been right next door, listening to him, presumably unable to help from thinking of him, even if he was merely cursing him for his volume.
It wasn't the same thing, of course, not even close, but even so... The thought of Steve lying in the dark, listening to Bucky getting himself off, sent a shiver down his spine, his fist clenching automatically and that was it for him. Convinced that just this once he could be safe in the knowledge that Steve was not next door just yet, he didn't even try to bite back his shout of pleasure as he tumbled over the edge, his whole body trembling with the strength of his orgasm.
As he slowly came down, he once again found himself thanking his lucky stars for giving him a friend like Steve, because damn. He hadn't even known personal lubricant was a thing and wouldn't that have been a tragedy, to miss out on something that felt so good. He was half tempted to go again right away and he had yet to catch his breath, but before he could start anything in earnest he heard the familiar ping of his cell phone. He briefly considered ignoring it, but there were so few people that had his number, he figured it was probably worth checking just in case the world was ending or something. Wiping his hand clean on the sleep pants he hadn't even bothered to put on, he reached for his cell and peered at the screen, smiling when he saw Steve's name next to the little envelope icon. Curiously he tapped at the screen until the email was displayed and then his jaw dropped.
The bulk of the screen was filled with links and from the names of them it was perfectly clear that Steve had sent him the promised websites. The accompanying message however...
Subject: Encore
Bravo on another thrilling performance! A little lacking in volume at times perhaps, but a solid effort nonetheless. Hopefully these will help you up your game before your next show.
Steve x
PS. Remember to stay hydrated!
"Punk!" he yelled at the wall when he finally managed to pick his chin up off of the floor.
"Welcome!" he heard Steve call back, the sound slightly muffled, but more than clear enough to be understood.
Bucky just shook his head. So Steve wanted a show did he? Wanted him to be louder? Not that he wasn't perfectly aware that his friend was just having a little fun, but two could play at that game and now Steve had all but asked for it. Oh it was on, he grinned to himself.
Tossing his cell aside, having no need for pornography just now and too wrapped up in whatever the hell was going on through the wall to even attempt to distract himself from thinking about Steve, he poured out a little more lubricant and settled back against the pillows. He wasn't fully hard anymore, but then he hadn't softed all that much either and it only took a couple of gentle strokes to get himself standing to attention.
"Aye aye, Captain," he murmured with a snicker, even as he found himself wondering yet again where the line was between audible and not. Still, he didn't want to skirt the line this time, he wanted to be so far over it that he could be sure Steve would hear everything.
Experimentally, he let his head fall back on a low moan as he stroked himself slowly. It was an intentional noise, but exaggerated rather than faked and it slipped easily from between his lips. Encouraged, he continued to touch, teasing himself in an effort to drag more helpless sounds from his throat; sounds he forced out at an unnatural volume, but sounds he'd have made anyway. Sounds that seemed to feed into the next and then the next until it took barely any effort at all to keep a steady stream falling from his mouth. He was probably driving Steve crazy, but the man had fucking asked for it. Besides the thought of Steve lying there on the other side of the wall, listening to Bucky do this, hearing every desperate moan, only made it easier for him to keep himself loud. He wanted Steve to hear him. He wanted it so fucking bad.
In the end, he was so focused on making as much noise as he could that his orgasm rather crept up on him. One minute he was groaning loudly, bucking his hips just enough for the movement to be evident in the slight waver of his voice and the next he was crying out in surprise as he came all over himself.
This time he didn't even pause, stroking himself through it and then simply continuing to move. Even in this he forced a little extra volume into it, listening to his own whimpers of oversensitivity and wondering if Steve could hear, if he understood what it meant, had guessed what Bucky was doing to himself. A little more lubricant helped ease the way and as he continued to slide his hand up and down he didn't even need to try to be loud any more. Every twist of his wrist triggered a guttural groan or breathy moan, his skin still tingling with aftershocks as he forced himself back towards the edge.
With his left hand he pinched roughly at his chest, crying out when the metal bit a little too sharply into his sensitive flesh, but he didn't stop, couldn't stop. He wondered if Steve was still listening or if he'd shoved his head under a pillow just to get some peace. If he was listening though... Was it affecting him, even just a little? Was the thought of what Bucky was doing, were the filthy sounds he was making, enough to send the (almost) perfectly pure Captain's mind into the gutter? Would he give in if they did? Was Steve touching himself right now? Would Bucky even know if he was? He couldn't hear a thing of course, but then he never had, even back when the walls between them had been paper thin. So he could only assume that Steve had always been quiet... So he may well be jerking himself right now and though Bucky had no way of knowing that for sure, there was also nothing to prove that he wasn't.
Come on Stevie, he thought to himself, not daring to even breathe the words aloud, but letting them fill his head instead. You enjoying this, huh? You wanna come too? He tightened his own fist until he hissed at the sensation, the low, rough sound interrupting the stream of gasps and moans and breathless cries that he didn't even need to try to exaggerate any more. Come on, Rogers, come for me, let me hear you. Except that it was Bucky that came. Bucky who swore so loudly as his orgasm crashed through him that he thought the whole damn city might hear him. And whatever Steve might be doing on the other side of the wall, whether he was jerking off or hiding under a pillow or already sound asleep, it didn't matter just then. In Bucky's head he was coming too; head thrown back, eyes closed tight as he spilled all over himself, Bucky's name a silent sigh on his lips.
"Fuck," he repeated, a little more quietly, but still loud enough that if Steve was listening he would undoubtedly hear it.
This time he forced his hands away from his oversensitised body as he collapsed back against the bed, panting roughly. Whether or not he had another one in him, he was just too drained to try it. Even his throat felt slightly raw from the stain and remembering what Steve had said, he wiped his hand on his pants before reaching blindly for the water bottle he kept on his nightstand.
He was just contemplating whether he had the energy to go and locate some clean pants or if he was going to give in to his lethargy and sleep naked when he heard a sound through the wall. For just a moment his heart seemed to stop as he wondered if he was actually hearing what he thought he was hearing, but then his brain caught up with his rather exhausted libido and he realised that what he could hear was applause. Steve was giving him a round of fucking applause.
With a tired laugh, Bucky reached for his cell, replying to his friend's email with 'Thank you and goodnight', before rolling over and immediately passing out.