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Breaking the Ice

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Bucky had had plenty of practice at freezing to death. If he was going to do it one more time--maybe even, he thought wistfully, for the last time--it was nice to be doing it here, under the stars.

He wasn't sure where he was. Still somewhere in Antarctica, judging by the crushing cold and the darkness and the whirl of unfamiliar stars. He could see green auroras above him, and the streak of the Milky Way, but there wasn't a bear or a dipper in sight.

He'd been with Steve and the others, clearing out a Hydra base a hundred or so miles out from McMurdo, and he'd heard Vision say calmly, "Take cover. Explosion imminent."

He'd seen Steve dive into a corner, hunkering behind his shield as he yelled at Vision to explain what the hell that meant. Bucky had been twenty yards away from Steve. He'd turned his head to see what cover he could find on his side and heard the roar, saw the air shimmering ahead of the white-hot blaze blooming toward him, heard Steve yelling something at him.

He'd remembered flames and Steve yelling at him to get out and thought, Not without you. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was alone in the snow, without a single familiar landmark. His comms didn't work. His phone didn't work. He had a feeling Wanda had magicked him out of the way somehow, but clearly her aim had been a little wild.

He'd written Good try, kid, on his left arm. He'd had to use blood, since he didn't have anything to write with and if he did it would have frozen solid by now. He didn't want her thinking she'd killed him; she'd just given him an hour or so of reprieve to lie here and watch the stars. It wasn't so bad, freezing to death. It didn't really hurt anymore. He was at the part where he just felt sleepy.

Even more important than making sure Wanda didn't feel too bad, though, Bucky had written the message for Steve. It was the kind of thing Steve would like, to know that Bucky had spent a few of his last minutes on earth trying to reassure the kid who killed him. It would make Steve think that he had died good, that he had died Bucky.

He couldn't really carry off the role while he was up and walking around--not well enough to stop Steve flinching away from him all the time, trying not to look directly at him. Steve couldn't seem to stand to be alone in a room with him anymore, so Bucky never had a chance to even ask what he was doing wrong. He'd never been able to figure it out, but it wouldn't matter in a few more minutes.

He was really warm now. That was good. It was almost over when he started feeling too hot.

He fumbled at the catches of his jacket--not much protection against cold anyway, they'd left all their cold weather gear in the quinjet. Snow was already sneaking in around his arm, and the metal components in his left side had gone cold first thing. He'd have frostbite on his bones by the time they found him. If they ever found him. Antarctica was a fucking big place, and it was a pretty safe bet any tracker on him had died along with all his other gear. It was a miracle his arm still worked.

That was all right, though. Nothing hurt, and he was warm, and he could see the stars. There was no glass covering his face, just the open sky and the quiet. It was always quiet when he froze to death.

No, someone was yelling.

Far away, though. Outside the tank. Not his problem until they took him back out. In here he was safe, closed in. Freezing to death again. Just like always.

He closed his eyes and turned onto his side, cuddling down into the softness of the snow. Almost done now. Almost done.

The yelling was getting louder, but it was still just a blur of noise outside the tank.

He could feel pressure, though. Someone shaking him.

One of his eyelids was dragged open, and he had a blurry view of Steve's worried face.

He'd recognize that anywhere, but Steve shouldn't be here, not when he was in the tank. He wasn't even supposed to remember Steve right now.

Bucky shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. If he didn't let them know he remembered, maybe they wouldn't take this from him. Maybe they'd let him remember Steve a while longer.

He felt a slap across his face, muffled by his frozen skin to just a dull impact. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and the blur of noise changed in tone. The hands on him moved, and then--

The sudden motion knocked him a few steps back toward consciousness, and he was aware that someone--Steve, Steve had found him--Steve had picked him up and was holding Bucky against his chest while... stomping around in a circle.

"Steve?" Bucky muttered, but his lips were numb and it was just sort of a noise, mostly lost against Steve's chest. Steve was wearing some kind of puffy coat. It was probably funny.

Bucky giggled a little, dizzily, just in time for Steve to kneel down and let go of Bucky's legs, leaving him slumped on top of Steve's thighs, his head against Steve's chest. They were in a little depression now, the snow as high as Bucky's dazed eyes.

Steve had packed it down, Bucky realized. That was what the stomping was about. Now Steve was shaking out something bright orange, shoving Bucky's numb legs into it and then pulling it over their heads. Bucky giggled again as Steve pushed him into place and sealed the big orange bag--tent--around them. He hit something and the tent sprang up into a little dome, with Bucky's head at one edge and his feet pressed to the other. There was even a light, steady and yellow as sunshine, dazzling after the glow of starshine on the snow.

"Bucky?" Steve said, bending low over him. "Can you understand me now?"

"Why'd you find me?" Bucky muttered. Steve wasn't supposed to--but no, Steve always remembered him.

Steve's fingers caught his face, moving his head so his eyes were aimed up at Steve. Steve was frowning.

"You better mean how did I find you," Steve said. "If you're asking me why I'm gonna blame the cold getting into your brain."

"Sure," Bucky muttered, letting his eyes close. "S'cold."

"You're cold," Steve said, like that was an argument. "We need to warm you up. The tent's insulated, but you're not producing much body heat right now. I'm gonna undress us both, okay? Just to warm you up."

"Why else," Bucky muttered, and giggled again.

Why the hell else? He wasn't the Bucky Steve wanted, he knew that already. He remembered the way Steve used to look at Bucky when he thought nobody was looking. He knew what Steve used to want. And he knew that nowadays Steve just kept looking away.

"That's right," Steve said. "Not gonna do anything else, just gonna get you warm. Just hang on for me, Bucky. Stay awake. Talk to me."

Bucky couldn't think of a single thing to say as Steve wrestled him out of his coat and stripped the thin glove off his right hand. It was curled into a gray-white claw, stiff with the cold. Steve stopped there for a moment, ripping off his own gloves to curl hot, bare hands around Bucky's hand.

"Talk to me," Steve repeated.

Bucky could feel the heat of Steve's hands around his, dimly, as if it were coming from far away. It was going to hurt when he started to actually feel it.

"How," Bucky managed. He could feel the shivering starting, a vibration down in his gut somewhere, but his teeth weren't chattering yet. He was still clumsy and numb around the mouth. "Find me?"

Steve didn't have any trouble understanding him.

"Wanda," he said, blowing on Bucky's fingers.

Bucky jerked at the added heat, gasping as the first crack of pain cut through the numbness.

Steve gave him another worried look and let go of his hand, tugging one of Steve's gloves over it. Even the echo of Steve's body heat felt like fire against his frost-gray skin. Steve shifted down to get Bucky's boots off, pulling his frozen socks after them.

Bucky let out a sob at the heat of Steve's hands on his feet.

Steve winced and took off the big puffy coat that had half covered his Captain America uniform. He dropped it--fiery hot inside--over Bucky's frozen feet.

"I'm gonna get your pants off now," Steve said. "Okay?"

Bucky nodded, long past wanting to laugh at the idea as the pain of the thaw hit his feet and hand.

"Wanda," he mumbled, remembering the message he'd written for her on his arm. The blood would thaw in this warmth, smear right off before anyone could read it. Steve hadn't even seen it--all that effort for nothing.

"Wanda," Steve agreed, undoing Bucky's belt and unzipping his pants. Bucky closed his eyes and did not watch.

"She tried to repeat whatever she did to get you out of the way to send me after you--it was instinctive, she wasn't really sure what it was. Doing it the first time pretty much knocked her out, but she was determined to send me to help you. The others will be looking for us with the quinjet, and Rhodey and Vision will be flying as much as they can, looking for us. It'll just take some time for them to catch up."

All the time Steve was speaking, he was peeling Bucky's pants and underwear down his legs, off over his frozen feet. Bucky was pretty sure anything worth seeing between his legs had shrunk down to a nub in the cold, but Bucky knew Steve wouldn't look no matter what. Steve tugged his coat up to cover Bucky from the waist down, gently prodding him to curl his legs so his feet were still covered, and then he pulled Bucky's undershirt off.

That jostled Bucky's right hand just enough to knock the lingering numbness into a sensation like his hand was actually on fire. Bucky screamed.

Steve went white but yanked the shirt the rest of the way off. Bucky clenched his teeth on the noise, which was oddly deadened by the soft, snow-packed boundaries of the tent.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, turning half away and coming back with a foil blanket, which he spread over Bucky from the ears down, covering him completely. "I'm going to get my clothes off and come under there with you, okay?"

"Fine," Bucky managed, gritting his teeth. The shivering was really starting now, shaking him from the pit of his stomach outward in irresistible waves.

Bucky watched while Steve hurried out of his boots and uniform: cowl first and then the rest, peeling away the dark blue fabric to reveal golden skin, unmarked by scars and a stark contrast to Bucky's gray-white frostbitten flesh. His dick, Bucky couldn't help noting, was still present and accounted for.

A moment later Steve was saying, "Here we go. I'm going to be right next to you, okay?"

"Just get in," Bucky said through gritted teeth. Better, he knew, to keep his teeth together than to let them chatter. He'd chipped a couple of teeth doing that. Serum didn't fix the enamel of his teeth, and no matter how many times they wiped and froze him, he remembered he didn't want to have to be treated by HYDRA's dentists.

Steve looked grim at the prospect of having to touch his naked body to Bucky's, but he did it. Of course he did it. Steve was a good guy like that. He slid under the foil blanket facing Bucky, pressing them right together, chest to chest, crotch to crotch. He hooked his legs between and over Bucky's, and rubbed his warm feet over Bucky's.

Bucky sobbed outright at the heat stabbing through his feet, ducking his face down to hide against Steve's shoulder, even though that felt scalding against his face. He wrapped his right arm around Steve, digging his fingers into the hot breadth of Steve's back to brace himself against the pain as sensation returned.

"Bucky?" Steve murmured.

"Thaw," Bucky gasped, shaking harder now. "Hurts."

It always hurt like this when he came out of the ice. Freezing to death was peaceful at the end, but waking up was fire and pain and this horrible helpless shaking every time. This was the first time he'd had someone to hold on to, though. He was grateful enough for that to forget that Steve wouldn't have let him this close for anything less.

"Is that..." Steve said, and then his arms closed around Bucky, his big hot hands rubbing over Bucky's back.

One strayed up to close around the back of his neck. Bucky's whole chest heaved with a harder sob, pain or something else breaking free as the cold was chased painfully from his body. He pressed his face tighter against Steve's skin, shaking and clenching his teeth and trying not to hear the pathetic animal sounds he made.

Steve was making sounds too, soft comforting noises. He didn't flinch from Bucky's touch, or from Bucky's ice cold shuddering body.

Bucky noticed first that the burning feeling in his hands and feet gave way to mere feverish warmth. A while after that he noticed that he could feel the coldness of all the metal in his left side, and the coldness of his arm itself where it pressed against his skin, which meant that his body was warming up enough to make a contrast.

That meant the thaw was almost over, except for the shaking. The shaking went on sometimes for hours, lying on a steel table under the bright lights, being prodded and examined, and--

He curled in tighter against Steve, capturing Steve's feet with his and bringing up his left arm to curl around Steve's back.

Steve hissed at the cold touch of it. Bucky jerked back, but Steve said, "No, no, we've gotta warm you up. It's okay."

He took away the hand rubbing Bucky's back to grab his left hand and tuck it into place against Steve's side. Bucky held on as the shaking continued, but it was easier with something--someone--warm to hang on to. Steve just seemed to absorb all of Bucky's shivering, giving back warmth and steadiness and low, gentle words.

Bucky realized he could probably let go and give Steve a little space, but he was so tired. Tired from the fight followed by nearly freezing to death and then thawing out again, tired of being careful, tired of struggling so hard to be the Bucky Steve wanted when nothing he did was ever right.

He kept his eyes closed, kept his face pressed to the warmth of Steve's shoulder. He could be greedy, just for a little while. Just until the others found them, and Steve pulled away again and went back to being Captain America. Bucky could steal this quiet moment with Steve in his arms and Steve's big body pressed tightly to his.

He didn't sleep, but he felt his whole body go limp as the shaking eased off. Exhaustion pressed down like a blanket, like a layer of snow. He surrendered to it, lying there dazed and warm and held close. He didn't even think, for a long time, just felt the slow, gentle friction of his skin against Steve's as they both breathed, and Steve's hand still moving in slow swipes up and down his back.

Steve's stomach growled, breaking the quiet.

Bucky felt him tense. He remembered, clear as anything, the apologetic look Steve used to get back during the war when he broke into his extra rations. You couldn't run a supersoldier on three squares a day, especially not a supersoldier who'd just gone through a combat mission and then taken over the job of personal space heater for somebody who'd nearly frozen to death.

Bucky knew he should move now. He should let Steve get the emergency snack he usually carried in a pocket somewhere on his uniform. Steve didn't pull away, though. He didn't even stop running his hand up and down Bucky's spine.

"Bucky?" Steve murmured. Bucky could feel his breath as he spoke, warm against the top of Bucky's head.

Bucky barely recognized the impulse to double down before he was doing it, making a sleepy noise and pressing his face tighter against Steve's shoulder.

Steve's hands stilled, and Steve's voice was lower as he said, "Buck? You awake?"

Bucky didn't move at all that time, just focused on keeping his breathing down to the same slow and steady pace.

"Okay," Steve said softly, and something about the warmth in his voice made Bucky want to shiver. "Okay, that's all right. You just sleep. I'll be right here."

Steve didn't sound resigned, or dutiful, or even like he wished Bucky would let go of him so he could get his energy bar. He sounded happy, in a quiet way. Like he was enjoying this too.

Because I'm asleep, Bucky thought tentatively, testing it like a possible trajectory to his target. Because I can't fuck up being Bucky when I'm asleep.

But Steve hadn't minded his metal arm, even ice cold. And when he'd hesitated, getting under the blanket to warm Bucky up--that hadn't been distaste. He'd been taking time to warn Bucky about what he was going to do.

"Shh, it's all right," Steve murmured, his hand starting its gentle motion over his back again, and Bucky realized that he'd tensed up as the realization hit him. Steve was still touching him, petting him, even though he was perfectly warm now. "You're safe, Bucky. You're safe."

Bucky tried to relax again, but now he couldn't feel anything but how naked they both were. His dick had definitely thawed out with everything else, and he could feel the soft weight of Steve's where it was lying against his thigh. Steve hadn't pulled away from him at all.

"Shh, shh," Steve repeated, and Bucky felt the heat of his breath and then a soft pressure that could only be Steve kissing the top of his head.

Bucky jerked back without thinking to meet Steve's gaze, and he saw it happen. He saw Steve look away. His whole body flinched back from Bucky's, and Bucky finally understood. Steve was looking away because he was trying not to get caught looking. He was never alone with Bucky because he didn't want Bucky to be scared of what might happen, the same reason he'd been careful to warn Bucky before every touch. Because he thought Bucky didn't want this.

"No, hey, I," Bucky said, and then gave up on words. He grabbed Steve's chin with his flesh hand, and when Steve still kept his eyes averted, Bucky pressed a kiss to his cheek, just to make them even.

Steve flinched all over again at the press of Bucky's lips and shut his eyes completely. "Bucky, you don't have to--"

"Steve," Bucky said, and for once he got it right. That was just the tone he wanted, the one that made Steve shut up and actually look at him.

"You don't have to either," Bucky said. "But you like this. And I like this." Bucky inched toward him, hooking his leg firmly over Steve's to make it absolutely clear.

"You like me," Bucky said, and a little pleading crept into his voice when he meant only to sound triumphantly certain that those words belonged in the present tense. "You want me, don't you."

Steve looked caught for a second, but he said, "Of course I--Bucky, I love you," and there was no hedging there, no possibility that Steve meant the other Bucky, the one he'd been before. Bucky felt so warm inside that he thought he couldn't have frozen at all if he'd known that an hour earlier.

Steve didn't stop there, though. "I love you, but I don't want to force--"

Bucky snorted, pressing them together again where Steve kept trying to inch away. "Where are you getting the idea that I'm not exactly where I want to be?"

Steve shook his head a little. "You--Buck, maybe you don't even know you're doing it, but I can see you trying to do what I expect. You keep trying to make yourself into--"

Bucky laughed wildly and lunged in to kiss Steve and shut him up. It didn't work very well--or didn't make for a very good kiss, anyway. It was a clumsy collision of teeth and lips and tongue, and Steve froze like he'd just heard gunshots and didn't know where they were coming from.

It did shut him up, though.

"Steve," Bucky said, leaning back to look at him, letting a draft of cooler air under the foil blanket. A hundred scattered memories snapped into place at once, lining up like bullets in a cartridge, finally finding some purpose. "When did I ever try to be anything but what you wanted? When was I ever not trying to be what you thought I was?"

He'd been trying to be the Bucky Steve wanted since 1925. He should have known he'd never get to the end of that project; he should have known that Steve noticing what he was doing would only make it harder.

"You weren't," Steve said, shaking his head. "You never--you never wanted me. Not like that."

"The hell I didn't," Bucky said, pressing crudely closer again, crotch to crotch. Those memories he'd made sense of a long time ago, or as much sense as he could make of them.

He remembered being afraid in a formless way that couldn't be fought against. He couldn't put words to what he had been afraid of--he hadn't been able to even at the time, he was pretty sure. He just knew that it was something vast, something that would tear him to pieces. Something that made him notice the way Steve looked at him and never, never let on that he knew, or that he was looking back.

"I always wanted you. I just didn't have the guts to do anything about it."

Steve looked stunned, but there was hope starting to dawn in his eyes. "Are you--Bucky, are you sure? I don't want this if you're just trying to--to please me, or--"

"You trying to tell me you're not my handler?" Bucky asked. "You think I would've come in if I thought you were? I don't know if you noticed, pal, but I spent a lot of effort making sure nobody could snap their fingers and own me anymore."

A lot of bullets and blood, and a lot of time when he could've been with Steve. He'd needed to be sure first.

Steve shook his head slightly, his eyes fixed on Bucky. "But you never argue with me."

Bucky rolled his eyes, pushing up on one elbow, and Steve mirrored him automatically.

"When do you ever let me be alone with you so I could? You think I'm gonna pick fights in front of your troops? I got more sense than that, Steve. I always did."

Steve opened his mouth to argue, and Bucky cut him off. "Anyway, I'm arguing with you now, aren't I?"

Steve scowled for a second and then smiled, and the hope in his eyes flashed bright. Bucky knew, down to his bones, all the way down to his center where he'd never quite frozen through, that Steve believed him, believed in him. That was always the way with Steve; once he was on your side he was with you all the way, and he'd never let go.

"Bucky, you really..." Steve said, and it wasn't a protest anymore. It was wonder. "You're not scared now?"

Bucky huffed. "You know how many times I've died since then? I know what's scary now. I'm not scared of this."

Bucky leaned in to kiss him again, and he did it slow this time, so Steve could shut up first and not be shocked by it.

It was a better kiss this time, slow and tender until Steve got impatient and made a little irritated noise against Bucky's mouth. Bucky broke away far enough to grin, and Steve grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him back in, kissing him hot and rough and wet.

Bucky groaned and kissed back, and he knew there couldn't be any ice left in him at all. His blood was running hot from the core of him to his toes and his fingertips. He could feel it beating fast against his skin. His dick was swelling with every squeeze of his heart, but not as fast as Steve's, already pressing eagerly against him.

Bucky moved a little, experimentally, to see how much they could move. Steve let out a shuddery breath against his mouth and switched his grip to Bucky's ass. He pressed them tightly together, so Bucky could feel the full length of Steve's cock pressing against him, and had the friction of Steve's thigh to grind into as he got harder.

"Will you," Steve muttered against his mouth, hips flexing in little helpless jerks. "Can I..."

"Anything," Bucky said, and then he laughed a little and pulled back to add, "Anything you can finish with before our rescue shows up."

Steve's eyes went wide and his face went really red, not just the sweet pink flush of arousal he'd had before, and his hard cock jerked against Bucky's abs.

"Of course you like that," Bucky said, grinning wider, and he leaned in to bite Steve's lips. He got his own hand on Steve's ass, kneading the muscle and keeping him close. "You thinking about that? Your whole team showing up any second and catching us going at it? Seeing you--"

Steve made a startled little sound, air leaving him exactly like he'd just been punched. He came, just like that, shaking like he was the one just coming in from the cold. Bucky just watched, a little awed by the way Steve's face went blank, slack with bliss. He'd never seen Steve so totally taken out of himself, so lost in something good.

"Jesus, Steve," Bucky muttered as Steve finished, and then got the worst kind of déjà vu: Steve flinched and looked away.

"Sorry," Steve muttered. "I--sorry."

Bucky shook his head and loosened his grip on Steve's ass, squirming against him to give his own dick some friction. Steve hardly felt any softer, his cock still trapped between them because Bucky wasn't letting Steve pull away.

"What the hell are you sorry for?" Bucky asked.

Steve looked up and gave him a withering glare.

Stop trying to pretend I'm not a ninety-pound weakling, that look said. Seeing it from Captain America, Bucky couldn't help laughing and lunging in to kiss him again.

"What," Bucky repeated, just to be obnoxious. "You think I'm jealous because it was the thought of your team seeing us that made you come, instead of me?"

Steve huffed, but he said, "I don't see anybody else here for you to be jealous of, Buck. I'm just sorry I couldn't hang on for more than thirty seconds."

"You down for the count?" Bucky asked, still grinning, grinding into Steve. He could swear he felt Steve's dick twitch against his belly, and his cock was getting wet as Steve's come dripped between their bodies, easing the way a little. "You not gonna be any good to me because you took the edge off once? We both know you've been waiting--"

Steve flinched again and Bucky stopped short. It was his turn to pull back.


Steve shook his head, and with that rueful twist of his mouth, Bucky knew exactly what Steve was saying no to without having to ask the question. And still...

"Never? Not even..."

"Never," Steve said on a sigh, but he met Bucky's eyes, looking cautious and shy, more like a virgin than he'd ever looked when he was a scrappy kid, now that he was safely on his way to not being one anymore.

Bucky wanted to call Steve an idiot for waiting, wanted to demand some assurance that Steve hadn't actually been waiting all that time for him, when finding each other again had been nothing short of a miracle. But maybe they didn't need to have that fight right in the middle of Steve's first time. Especially not when they might get found any minute now, and Bucky still hadn't gotten his turn.

"No wonder, then," Bucky said instead, kissing Steve and leaning into him until Steve rolled onto his back. There wasn't really room in the little tent--Steve had to fold his legs up, and Bucky couldn't fit anywhere but cradled between his thighs, but they managed. Bucky braced on his left arm so he could look down at Steve, the sheer huge perfection of him. He was barely mussed up yet, except for the smears of come on his belly and the glistening wetness of his cock.

Bucky curled his hand around it for the first time and Steve gasped and arched up into the touch. Bucky's own cock throbbed, reminding him that he'd been waiting a long damn time for this himself, even if not quite as desperately as Steve. Bucky's hips jerked instinctively, the head of his cock skidding against Steve's balls and pressing behind them.

Steve's head tipped back as he said breathlessly, "You can."

"Fuck," Bucky gasped, thrusting again, his cock sliding into the spread-open cleft of Steve's ass, slipping a little on sweat--it had gotten hot in the tent, almost stifling. He saw it on Steve's face when the head of his cock brushed right over his hole, and Steve's cock throbbed where his hand was still wrapped around it, hardening again.

"That what you want?" Bucky murmured, starting to rock down against him, his cock sliding along Steve's ass.

This was enough to get him off all by itself if he kept it up for much longer--the heat of Steve's body, the weight of his balls and the flex of his ass against Bucky's cock, and Steve's cock in his grip, Steve's sex-flush spreading down his chest. Steve just moaned and pushed up against him, grinding against his cock, pushing into his grip. He was properly hard again already, straining against Bucky's hand.

"You wanna go all the way on the first try?" Bucky asked, leaning in to kiss the hollow of Steve's throat, shiny with sweat, and down over his chest.

"You wanna stop?" Steve countered, tilting his hips to make Bucky's cock hit right on his hole again.

"Your team..." Bucky offered, but Steve just growled, and the pretend anger in the noise didn't hide the way he pushed up against Bucky. The idea of getting caught really wasn't a drawback here.

"Tell me you've at least had your fingers in there," Bucky tried finally, letting go of Steve's cock to work his hand down lower. Steve groaned and nodded, arching under him as Bucky pressed against his hole, getting just his fingertip inside.

There was some other objection Bucky meant to make, but he didn't remember it before he noticed Steve moving, rummaging through a bag he'd brought with him. Bucky just had time to wonder if Steve was that desperate for a snack when Steve pulled out a little container of honest to God Vaseline and held it out to him.

"What, no condoms?" Bucky took the little tin and knelt up, as much as he could, using two hands to open it. Steve stayed where he was, splayed out under Bucky, his thighs spread wide around Bucky's. His cock was standing up against his belly, either still wet from coming the first time or starting to leak pre-come.

"Don't need 'em," Steve said, getting his own hand on his cock as he lifted his hips, offering himself to Bucky. "And I wasn't exactly planning this, anyway. Vaseline's in the kit for windburn."

Bucky grinned, reaching down with slicked fingers to open Steve up. "You'd argue with me if I said the sky was blue, Stevie."

"It's black now, and green with the auroras," Steve said, grinning back with his mouth open, and just for that (reward, punishment, a surge of love and lust and impatience) Bucky pushed two fingers into him and crooked them up, finding just the right spot.

Steve cried out, low and broken, and Bucky kept working his fingers, pushing those noises out of him. Steve was stroking himself fitfully, a few quick strokes and then a sudden stop while Bucky drove him wild from the inside. Bucky had to lean down to kiss and bite at his sweat-shining chest, teasing the hard little peaks of his nipples, mouthing at the hard abundant curves of his muscles.

Finally Steve let go of his own cock completely, pushing up on one elbow to grab Bucky's instead. Bucky froze, fingers still sunk in Steve's ass, and the tight dry grip of Steve's hand and the tight, slick clutch of his hole on Bucky's fingers brought him abruptly back to the point of this.

"Now," Steve said, giving him one slow, tight stroke that made pre-come spurt from Bucky's cock.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, just as desperate for it as Steve now. "Now."

Between them, they managed to find the tin of Vaseline again and got Bucky slicked up with clumsy, eager hands, and in seconds he had his cock lined up at Steve's opening. Steve was looking up at him, blue eyes mostly black with want, cheeks more red than pink.

Bucky felt so drunk on sex that he blurted, "The tent's not airtight, right?"

Steve stared at him for a frozen, stricken second, and then took a deep breath and shook his head seriously. No. The little space was as hot and humid and rank as the crotch of a teenaged boy's good wool pants on a summer Sunday, but it wasn't literally airless.

Then Steve snorted, and started laughing, falling flat on his back with the force of it, head back and mouth open. Bucky bit his lip and kept the quaking of his own laughter submerged, just a vibration in his belly and a catch in his breath, and started pushing into Steve. He had to go slow, slow--

Steve's laughing stuttered and turned to a moan that was almost a sob. He grabbed Bucky's hip and pushed up against his cock and the hell with slow anyway. They'd both waited long enough. Bucky pushed into him in a slick, fast slide, his cock sinking into the tight fluttering heat of Steve's ass.
Bucky had to brace both hands in the little space available to either side of Steve's shoulders. His eyes were closed, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't do anything but feel this, Steve taking his cock, this molten heat.

Bucky couldn't hear anything but Steve's breathing, and then the sound of Steve's hand on his cock again. He had to open his eyes and look at that, and then at Steve's face, tense and greedy and intent. Bucky rocked his hips, just barely working his cock inside him.

Steve wrapped his legs around Bucky's hips at the same time he said, "Yeah, yeah, Bucky, do it, fuck me."

Bucky, as ever, did his best to give Steve what he wanted.

He bucked against Steve's grip on his hips to fuck him just as fast and hard as he knew Steve would want it. There would be time for gentleness later, when Steve wasn't frantic to feel this. They would have time later, and space, and cool fresh air, and no teammates searching for them every minute--

Bucky was nearly certain that the sound was just the rush of blood in his ears or the muffled echo of their frantic fucking, but he whispered, "You hear that, Stevie? I think they're coming. I think they found us."

Steve made a choked, frantic noise. His eyes widened and his hand sped up, his legs clamping tight on Bucky's hips. Bucky grinned and ground his cock in deep, wrapping his hand around Steve's to feel the way he was yanking on his cock.

"Gonna find us," Bucky went on breathlessly, "gonna be able to smell this as soon as we unzip the tent. Everybody's gonna know--"

Steve arched under him and came again, silent and lost in pleasure as intense as pain. The frantic clenching of his ass on Bucky's dick and the gorgeous sight of him giving it up were too much to bear. Bucky closed his eyes and breathed out a groan as his orgasm rushed through him, blanking out everything else.

When he could think again he eased himself free of Steve's ass and finally let his weight off his left arm, laying himself down on Steve's broad chest. Steve grumbled a little, but he immediately wrapped both arms around Bucky and kept his legs locked tight, so Bucky understood the protest to be purely from habit.

Bucky was almost asleep when Steve muttered, "Did you actually hear anything?"

Bucky took a second before answering. He could feel, and almost hear, the thump of Steve's heart, slowing from its race in time with his own. Neither of them was breathing loudly anymore; when he strained his ears he could hear the high whisper of the wind outside. Nothing else.

"Did you?" Bucky asked, squirming a little against Steve to draw attention to the fresh load of come spattered over Steve's chest, smeared on both of them now.

"Asshole," Steve muttered. "You probably jinxed us. It'll be twelve hours now before anybody finds us."

"Mm," Bucky muttered, snuggling down again with his face tucked against Steve's shoulder. "I bet we'll keep busy somehow. And we can keep each other warm."

"Somehow," Steve agreed, and then Bucky felt him moving again, one arm moving as he reached for his pack. "We've got snacks, anyway."

Bucky laughed a little at that, but he turned his head and let Steve feed him every other bite of the energy bar he'd pulled out.

He opened his eyes as Steve tucked the wrapper tidily back into the pack, and for a moment he just looked around the little tent, at its bright orange insulated walls, at the untidy pile of his and Steve's clothes and boots shoved up against one side, Steve's big puffy coat spilling over to cover their feet. The pack rested against them, and Bucky could see first aid supplies inside, another foil blanket, and about a dozen energy bars and pods of runners' energy gels. There was an empty bottle they could fill with snow to drink when it melted. They should do that soon; they'd both probably spent their share of bodily fluid by now. But for now they were both safe and warm, packed into this cramped little safe place together.

For all the times he'd frozen to death, Bucky realized, it was his first time being rescued.

He pushed up enough to look down at Steve's face--he'd been close to sleep himself, but he blinked his eyes open, drowsy and contented, when Bucky moved.

"I'm glad it was you," Bucky muttered. He kissed Steve's mouth softly, one more time, knowing he had a thousand, ten thousand, more kisses to look forward to.

"Think that's my line," Steve said, turning onto his side so they could both lie down and still exchange lazy kisses. "I'm glad it was you, Buck."

Bucky didn't bother to correct him. They'd have time for that later.