Work Text:
“We don't have to do this if you don't want to.”
Steve swallowed. His heart was pounding in his chest. His hands shook as he went to push his hair back.
“I want this more than anything,” he whispered, eyes closed, voice wavering.
He knew it to be true. He didn't know when he'd started looking at Bucky that way, as more than his best friend, but at some point it had changed. Each touch felt electric. He'd stare, and stare, and stare, because each feature looked like it was placed there by Michaelangelo himself. His body would react in ways he hoped no one noticed.
He remembered praying. Kneeling for so long it left bruises when he finally stood. Asking– no, begging– forgiveness for his sin. He knew it was dirty, he knew it was wrong, but he couldn't stop the thoughts from creeping in. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about how nice that mouth would feel against his. Couldn't stop himself from thinking about the feeling of skin against skin. Couldn't stop the blood rushing to his—
And now they were there. And things were different. They could see eye to eye. And a million more things had changed between them, between the serum, and the war, and growing up.
Steve had a reputation now. A vision of himself to uphold. Another cog in the propaganda machine that turned nonstop, feeding more and more to the war that seemed like it would never end.
But then again, when you're in the thick of it, what war feels like it will end?
Here, he was fighting. Here, he was a soldier. He was more than a symbol. He was a person, a leader.
In the dark, in a camp, somewhere in No Man’s Land, where only one person could see his face, no one would know the sin he was about to commit.
“We'll take it slow,” Bucky was saying, and Steve got out of his head long enough to nod.
“You ever do this before?” Steve asked, nervous laughter bubbling out of his chest.
“God no, not like this,” Bucky said, and he was giggling too.
Embarrassing, the two of them giggling and blushing like schoolgirls, but no one was there to see it.
There was a moment of hesitation before anything happened. They could have left it there, and there would have been plausible deniability. They could have forgotten about it, lived their lives as normal, the night in the woods left as a hypothetical.
Bucky looked at Steve hungrily, and in a second his mind was made up. Steve would go to hell for this man, over and over again.
Bucky touched Steve’s face, brushing over the skin, fingers curling into his hair.
Their faces were close now, almost touching, breath hot against each other.
Steve leaned in, feeling their lips touch together for a moment.
A moment later, he felt tongue sliding against his lips.
He knew about making out. Even if he'd never personally participated in it, he'd seen it happen plenty of times. He'd caught glimpses of Bucky with whatever dame of the week, tongues down each other's throats, and felt something between disgust and jealousy. It had always seemed excessive to him, not to mention unsanitary.
Now, he let the tongue run over his lips, slip in between them, and crawl through his mouth.
He didn't expect it to feel good. It was wet, and slippery, and two tongues touching did not have the right to feel electric.
He pressed his body forward, legs touching, then overlapping Bucky’s.
One hand continued holding on to his head, while the other wrapped around his waist. It rubbed circles into his back.
Steve felt the pressure in his bottom half, the involuntary twitching he knew would eventually present itself.
He pulled back, and Bucky let go.
“Is everything okay?” Bucky asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Don't think about your penis right now.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said in between deep breaths. “I just- I need a moment.”
It was stupid, they were here to have sex, and he had just stopped because he had a boner. He deserved a Nobel prize for that one.
“We don't have to-”
“No, it's not-” Steve sighed, wishing there was an easier way to express all the thoughts in his head. “I think I always knew I was a fag.”
Bucky bit his bottom lip.
Steve continued. “I mean, I never liked girls the same way other guys did. I tried to. Never really worked. They didn't like me much either, at least not before, so it didn't matter much. Figured if I didn't die before I was thirty, I'd find a nice girl to settle down with, and we wouldn't have to do much of anything. And- and then there was you. and there was always you, and at some point it was- It was you who I wanted. And I couldn't deny that anymore.” He was rambling. The words tumbled out like waterfalls, cascading.
Bucky looked at him, mouth slightly open in a smile
“And I knew that it was wrong. That the way I felt meant I was wrong. I could live with it, as long as I never acted on it. As long as I never gave into the sin. And I didn't, for a long time. I just lived with it, in my head. And I screwed up a couple of times, but that was fine because it was just me. And now here I am— here we are— and I still want it, don't get me wrong, but— but I know it's disgusting. And I know it's wrong, and I know it makes me a sinner, and a worse sinner than I already was, and I'm dragging you down with me, and—”
He was shut up by the pressure of the hug, strong hands pressing into him. His breathing slowed.
“We don't have to do this if you don't want to,” Bucky repeated. “I want to make you feel good. If this won't do that—”
“No, I—” Steve swallowed. “I don't want to die without knowing.”
If the hug could get tighter, it did.
Steve added, “But I don't want to drag you down with me.”
“If you're worried about me going to hell, I think I lost that somewhere between premarital sex and thou shalt not kill. Don't worry about me.”
Steve laughed, and he felt a shudder of laughter in Bucky’s chest too. They sat there for a moment, bodies pressed together. Steve savored the moment.
He pulled away with a renewed sense of purpose. Bucky looked at him, wordlessly asking. Steve nodded.
Bucky started slow, which Steve was grateful for. He held the back of Steve’s head, hands moving over the short hairs. He pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s lips, holding them there for just a moment.
When he pulled back, he looked at Steve, and Steve nodded again.
He went for the neck this time, and that did it. Steve felt the blood rush immediately to his face and his cock.
“You think you're hot shit,” he breathed it, attempting nonchalance.
“I’ve never had that one not work,” Bucky replied. He glanced away for just a second, before returning his gaze with a smirk. “You ever have your dick sucked?”
“You ever suck a dick?”
Bucky shut him up with another kiss to the lips. Steve let himself be laid out against the ground, and they both began to strip. When Steve's shirt was off, Bucky trailed kisses down his torso. His neck, his chest, taking a quick stop to roll Steve's nipple between his tongue, down his abdomen, stopping right above the waistline of Steve's pants.
Bucky looked back at Steve, who snapped out of his arousal long enough to realize he was asking for permission.
Steve nodded. His cock twitched in anticipation.
He felt Bucky undo the buttons, sliding down his pants. He sucked in a breath as the air hit his genitals, while Bucky took a gasp of his own.
“What?” Steve asked, suddenly self conscious.
“Ah, how do I say this… Did the serum have an effect on… it?”
“Um, maybe marginally? Of all the things, it seemed pretty marginal.”
Bucky sighed deeply. “Why the hell did you never tell me you were packing?”
Steve was sure his entire body was red at this point. “It never seemed relevant!”
Bucky shook his head. “Friends don't keep these things from each other.”
Steve would've responded, had Bucky not started stroking. It instead came out as a moan. What an asshole.
Steve was sure he was going to come from the touch alone, but Bucky switched to his mouth, running his tongue over the tip.
Steve closed his eyes, focusing on the pressure and the warmth against his cock. Fuck, it felt good. It was better than kissing. It was better than his own touch by far.
He leaned into it, losing himself in the pleasure. He felt himself coming, felt the peak of it all as semen shot from his cock.
He not so much came down as crashed down. The realization of what he was doing, what he'd just done, hit him like a truck.
He felt tears, hot against his skin, although he didn't notice his sobs until Bucky was in his ear.
“Hey, it's okay, it's okay,” he was saying, his hand squeezing Steve's shoulders. “It's okay, I'm here.”
For a while, all Steve felt was a sticky mixture of guilt, shame, and embarrassment that permeated his whole being. He couldn't believe he'd let Bucky see him like that. He couldn't believe he'd let Bucky do that.
“I'm an abomination,” he said when the words finally came to him.
“No,” Bucky whispered. “No, you're not.”
“It’s disgusting.”
“It’s pure,” Bucky countered. “They wouldn't try to tell us it was wrong so badly if it wasn't.”
Steve curled into himself, harder now that he was six feet tall. “I hate that you saw me like this.”
“I love that you let me.”
Steve choked out another sob, and Bucky wrapped his arms around him, his chest against Steve's back.
“Steve, you're beautiful. Even before everything, I thought you were the most wonderful thing in the world. Like God himself sculpted you from clay. I'm so glad you let me see all of you tonight.”
Steve let out a small laugh, as another tear rolled down his cheek.
“Why can't you always talk to me like that?” he teased.
“Can't let people know I'm not as tough as I say I am,” Bucky responded.
“Mhm.” Steve pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Whatever you say, handsome.”
The noise that came out of Bucky’s throat was the most undignified thing Steve had ever heard out of him. He smiled. Two can play at that game.
“We can stop here if you'd like,” Bucky said.
Steve thought about it. The night had already been taxing, physically and emotionally. Bucky would be fine if they stopped there. It was already farther than Steve had ever thought he'd go.
But then he thought about either one of them dying tomorrow, and his mind was made up.
“No,” he said, turning around to make direct eye contact. “I want you to fuck me.”
The sound Bucky made after that was half laugh, half cough. Steve had managed to catch him off guard once again.
“Are you—” he started.
“I'm sure,” Steve replied. “Do whatever you see fit.”
Bucky nodded, and Steve saw the wheels in his head turning.
“Lie down,” he settled on, and Steve obeyed.
Steve closed his eyes again, half praying for forgiveness, and half hungering for Bucky’s touch. The spirit and the flesh’s eternal battle.
Bucky started with a finger, gently encircling his anus, before slowly guiding it in the hole.
It felt- Well, Steve felt something, even if it wasn't the same type of pleasure he'd felt before. It didn't feel bad at least, and when he opened his eyes, Bucky was looking at him to make sure he was okay.
Steve nodded, Bucky nodded back, before introducing a second finger.
Now he was starting to feel something. Just the edges, as the fingers pressed up higher into his ass.
A third finger, and that did something. A quiet moan escaped his lips.
“Is it alright if I—”
Steve nodded, not trusting his mouth to use words.
And then Bucky was inside him, and they were face to face.
Steve felt himself clench around Bucky’s cock as he thrusted. He didn't know his body knew how to do that.
He was grateful to be lying on his back. If things got too overwhelming, he could look back into Bucky's eyes and ground himself. It didn't matter what was happening, because Bucky was there. It was wonderful not because of what it was, but because it was with him.
No merciful God would make someone as beautiful as you and expect me to not fall in love, he thought to himself. No God would make something this perfect wrong.
He didn't worry about hell, because if he went to hell, so would Bucky, and he could do anything if he was there. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered in that moment but the two of them, the feeling of skin against skin.
Bucky grunted, throwing more force into his thrusts.
Steve came all over again, his whole body shaking as it came out of him.
Bucky didn't last much longer, making a soft noise as he released, and Steve felt the warmth within him.
He pulled out, out of breath. He grinned. “Not too bad, was I?”
“You were perfect,” Steve said. “Perfect.”
They lay next to each other. At some point, they'd have to come back to reality. Wash up, get dressed, march on the next morning and pretend nothing ever happened. Go on with their lives, die in the war, or marry a nice woman who didn't mind not being touched very often. Perform until they were in the dirt.
For now, alone under the dark of night, they could sit in it. Sit in each other's presence, knowing they had each seen the other at their most undone. Knowing that it was beautiful, sacred, no matter what the world tried to tell them.
For a moment, Steve dared to dream. He thought of what it would be like to do this every night. That would be nice, he decided. That would be nice.