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While there are absolutely things to dislike about this decade, he finds that compared to almost every other decade, this one is pretty cool. Though the fifties were excellent as well, but he thinks that has more to do with a dynamic redhead who had a right hook that knocked him on his ass. The internet, though. Bucky loves the internet. It helps him adjust, just like the commercials on TV and the ads on the subways. It's what he tells Steve, anyway, who still looks at the world around him like it betrayed them and will never be theirs. It's different for Bucky, he thinks. The world is bright and new and unfamiliar and so, so loud but it's better – anything is better – than the life he had before. He says this to Steve once, and Steve looks at him for just a moment like he'd remove something vital to erase the life Bucky had lived. After that, Steve is careful not to complain so much.

Which, of course, isn't to say he doesn't complain at all.

“Can't you just call them sandwiches?” Steve asks, walking into the living room from the kitchen, a full plate in one hand his half-eaten Panini in the other. Bucky glances up, takes in his tee shirt, sweats and bare feet. His hair is still damp from his shower and there is a quickly healing cut on his left cheek that makes Bucky frown.

“No, it's a Panini. It goes into the grill as a sandwich and comes out a Panini. Like magic,” he says, watching Steve flop down at the end of the couch. He shifts and folds one of his leg under himself so his knee brushes up against Steve's thigh. “What happened to your face? Tough day at the office?”

Steve swallows and wipes his mouth on his napkin before answering, “I was looking for something in the records room and a box fell down and hit me.”

“And they said I'd be a danger to you,” he tuts with a crooked grin. But then Steve is giving him that strange, badly-concealed horrified/heartbroken look again so he changes the subject with a well-practiced quickness. “So today I went to the gym and had lunch with Natasha and then spent the whole afternoon reading tweets about a guy who got a vibrating dildo stuck up his butt. Very productive. It was like creating world peace, only better.”

Steve pauses, sandwich – Panini – hovering somewhere between his mouth and his plate. “What?”

Bucky smiles and reaches out to the coffee table to pick up his tablet so he can pull up the article. “It started with that, but then led to a 'weirdest things people have had to have removed from their bodies' spree, but that one is still fascinating. He posted X-Ray pictures.”

Steve puts his plate down on his lap and blinks at the screen Bucky is holding out to him. “Is he all right?”

Bucky screws up his face in a scowl, “Of course he's all right! No one ever died from a toy in the butt. Really, Steve.”

“Who would do that to him? Was he attacked?” Steve asks, all bright blue eyes and furrowed brows in what Tony calls his Justice Time Face. It was the first time Bucky had met Tony and Bucky had laughed, then promised that if he ever made fun of Steve like that again, Bucky would remove parts of his body he'd miss. It was kind of a thing between them for a while but then Tony made him a new arm and Bucky promised he probably wouldn't main him and they were okay after that.

“No. He did that to himself,” Bucky says, staring at Steve in disbelief.

“Why? Is he one of those masochists?”

Somehow hearing Steve, sweet little 'the word vagina makes me blush' Steve Rogers ask about masochism is the funniest thing he's ever heard in his life, so he laughs. And laughs and laughs and Steve huffs, and Bucky laughs harder.

“Well if you're just going to laugh at me...” Steve says, making like he's going to stand up. Bucky, still laughing, leans over and puts a quelling hand on his leg.

“No, Steve, no. It's just – you know some people are gay, right? Men?” Bucky asks, still trying to wipe the smile off his face but not succeeding entirely.

Steve looks up at him, vexed, but trying hard not to be, “Of course I do. There was that bar downtown near where you worked on the docks. Nobody talked about it, but everyone knew.”

“I miss that bar.” At Steve's raised eyebrows, he continues. “And men have sex with each other. They're not doing it out of duty or obligation. It feels good. Real good. It's not about masochism.”

“Shut up, I know that. I also know you and I know that whenever you insist that I share in your internet adventures it's because you want to embarrass me and laugh at me, so I was just being proactive. I simply assumed that there was more to the story than a man who got a toy stuck while he was pleasuring himself. Just because I don't do it, doesn't mean I don't understand it.”

Steve dislodges Bucky's hand, picks up his plate and begins sulkily finishing his dinner and Bucky almost feels bad for a minute until the rest of that comment sinks in and piques his curiosity. “You don't do it?”

“Have sex with men? Not in recent memory, no,” Steve says flatly. And yeah, Bucky is frustratingly aware of that.

“Steve,” he waits for Steve to look up at him before he continues. “Straight men like it, too. Ask Tony. I'm willing to bet he has his very own toy box full of things that are for adults only. He seems like the type. And girls these days, they’ve come a long way from the ones we used to know. You and that...Sharon, right? She's never slipped a finger in while she was going down on you?”

“Bucky! What she and I may or may not have done is –” But there's a bright pink blush high on his cheeks and resisting the urge to reach out and kiss across them is very nearly painful.

“She never fingered you? Then you're missing out, my friend. It's a good time,” Bucky says, reaching over to Steve's plate and picking up the remaining corner of his Panini. Steve frowns but doesn't comment.

“I'm just not you are.”

“No, I don't know,” Bucky says with a grin, leaning back into the corner of the couch and popping the last of Steve's dinner into his mouth.

“Adventurous? Experienced? I'm lucky to get what I get. Not saying that I – that I'd want to? But, if maybe...maybe I had wanted to and was curious that I could...ask for it. She and I weren't really...I didn't feel comfortable with...and my male friends, it was just Sam really and he... Can we talk about something else? Honestly, anything else?” Steve asks, looking uncomfortable and desperate and pitiable.

Bucky looks at Steve for a long moment, smiling at him a little thoughtfully. He leans forward, sets the tablet back down on the coffee table and turns to Steve. “You should never be afraid to ask for what you want. Look, Steve, you're never going to be more comfortable with anyone than you are with me and we both know it. I'd be delighted to show you the ropes, if you're really curious. That is, if you don't mind my shortcomings. All of them.”

He watches Steve's face, waits to see his meaning sink in and Steve's mouth form a perfect O before patting Steve on the knee and standing up. Bucky makes his way down the hall, to his bedroom and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. He doesn't hear anything for a long while and Steve doesn't go to bed until the early morning hours. Bucky thinks maybe that's a good thing.


Steve gets called away on a mission to some place Bucky can't know about and they text, and sometimes Steve calls, but discussing Bucky's surprisingly decent proposal seems more like an in-person kind of thing even if Bucky might be dying to know what Steve thinks of it. Steve had been gone nearly three weeks and when he shuffles into the apartment in the early morning hours looking tired and beaten down. He smiles in that way he has when he sees Bucky sitting on the couch with a bag of Doritos and a bottle of Coke.

“Hi,” Bucky says, twisting awkwardly around so he can watch Steve come in. It's the longest they've been apart since Bucky had come crawling in from the cold for the final time and aside from Steve, Natasha and his three-time weekly therapy sessions, he doesn't have much human contact. He doesn't miss interacting with people, not really, but it turns out he misses Steve.

“Hey,” Steve says with a wan smile. He stops behind the couch and rests a hand on Bucky's shoulder. “Stay up a little longer. I'm going to take a shower but I want to catch up.”

He doesn't wait for Bucky's response, just disappears in through his bedroom door and minutes later, Bucky hears the shower start up. He gets up and goes into the kitchen, quickly reheating some of his leftovers from dinner and bringing them out into the living room. He grabs a beer from the refrigerator and sets it on the coffee table next to the food just in time to see Steve come back in from his room. He claps Bucky on the shoulder and sits down on the couch, picking up the plate and fork, leaning back into the couch with a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Buck,” he says, biting into it with relish. “You really didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did. This is delicious. Where did this chicken come from?”

“A farm, probably,” Bucky says, sitting back down beside Steve and picking up his chips.

“It's really good,” Steve says, smiling sweetly before scooping another forkful into his mouth.

“Carved well. You know, I have been praised for my skills with a knife,” Bucky says, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth and licking his fingers clean.

Steve gives him that wounded look and Bucky rolls his eyes, “Oh please, it's a joke. You laugh at jokes.”

“When they're funny. You're rarely funny.”

Bucky laughs, “You don't mean that at all.”

Steve finishes his dinner so quickly it gives Bucky sympathy heart burn. He sets the plate down on the coffee table before flinging an arm out over the back of the couch and turning to Bucky. “No. I don't mean that.”

Bucky watches Steve lick his lips and it’s a struggle to pick up the conversation but he manages. He smiles, “I know. How was your trip?”

“Long and boring until it was awful and messy. Aliens with regenerating heads. Who knew? That’s not what we should talk about, though,” Steve says, pasting his Serious Business face on. Bucky has to smother a smile as Steve continues, “There was plenty of time for thinking. You know. About some stuff. And I can admit that maybe I’ve wondered what it would be like to experience certain things. With people who weren't always women. I’ve never really thought on it too much, but enough to know it might be something I wanted under the right circumstances.”

Bucky gapes and lets his eyes go very wide. “Wow. For the record, I like a gentle easing in.”


“Uh, nothing. Innuendo. Please continue.”


“No, no. Go on.”

Steve looks at him skeptically before continuing, “You know I've always been okay with it, even when I wasn’t sure... Back before this, it wasn't anything I'd ever thought I'd be ready for, but what if I'm ready to try it now?”

Bucky bites his lip and tries not to think dick-first. “Then you just go for it. It's all you can do.”

“If I don't like it? Or if I really like it?”

“You won't know what you're comfortable with until you try something. It's not like it's all that unfamiliar to you, right,” he says keeping his tone neutral. It's an effort. A huge one.

Steve is quiet for several moments. He finally looks up at Bucky, wonderingly and a little uncertain, “And you?”

“I've always been okay with what I wanted and who I wanted it from.” He doesn't bother to be discreet when he lets his eyes roam over Steve. Though, he supposes, he never did.

“I trust you. You're probably the only person I do trust, so you'd be my first choice. But I wouldn't want you know...out of some skewed sense of loyalty,” Steve blushes again and Bucky never could help himself.

“I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know,” Bucky says, failing abysmally at concealing his grin.

Steve sighs and looks over at him. “You”

Bucky laughs, but only for a moment. “It's no hardship. Believe me. And when have you known me to do anything I didn't want to do? Aside from that mass murder thing.”

Steve gives him that scandalized look and Bucky softens his face into a gentle smile. “I'd be honored to put things in your butt.”

Steve looks like he is suddenly overcome with an intense, overwhelming pain, “Ugh, Bucky, really?”

“Yes, really.” Bucky stands and walks towards his bedroom, pausing near the hall to turn back to Steve. “Get your pants off, we're doing this.”

“What? Now?”

But Bucky doesn't bother answering because of course now. He goes into his room and rifles through his drawer to pull out lube vacillating between the regular kind and the strawberry kind. It might be too soon for tongues, so he picks the regular one and walks back into the living room to find Steve sitting on the couch, sweat pants still on and looking a little flushed and uncomfortable. He shakes the bottle of lube in Steve's direction.

Steve scrunches his face in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Now? Wondering why you didn't do what I asked. What do I plan to do? I'm going to use my mouth and fingers to get you off,” Bucky says, walking over to sit down on the coffee table in front of Steve. He drops the lube on the floor between them and then reaches out, placing his hands on Steve's knees to push them apart. Steve's eyes are on him and while he looks a little lost and unsure, he's certainly not uninterested.

“You know, Buck, sometimes I wish you'd just quit with the ambiguity and be straight with me,” Steve says flatly.

“Straight? Think one of us would need to be a girl for that,” Bucky says, smiling and sliding to his knees between Steve's spread legs and pushing his hands from Steve's knees to his hips. “Two things we should lay out on the table: one, if you don't like something, you tell me you don't like it and you tell me right away.”

When Steve doesn't say anything Bucky squeezes his hips hard. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, shifting his hips in Bucky's grip.

“And two, if this –” he raises his left hand and wiggles his fingers in front of Steve's face, the brushed metal glinting softly in the lamplight. “– is weird for you, you tell me that, too. I know it's strange and I can do just fine with only one hand.”

Steve looks at his hand and then back to his face, “Bucky, no. That's fine.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, dropping his hand back to Steve's hip. “Looking at it is different from having it touch you in sexy places.”

Steve drops his right hand to cover Bucky's left, sliding it up over his wrist and forearm to his elbow, up his bicep and under the sleeve of his shirt. Steve's fingers are sure but gentle as they slide across his shoulder where metal meets skin and bone and Bucky closes his eyes and tries to keep his breathing level as Steve's thumb rubs circles into the thick scar-tissue over his collar bone. Steve squeezes once before sitting back and Bucky isn't sure what's written on his face, but whatever it is makes Steve smile warmly. “Feels pretty good from here, Buck. I think we’ll be fine.”

“I thought I told you to take these off,” Bucky grumbles, his voice coming out thick and gravelly. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Steve's sweats and pulls. Steve lifts his hips and Bucky pulls them down to his ankles, coming face to face with where Steve's dick is already showing interest in his underwear. Bucky brings a hand to his crotch and strokes gentle fingers over the outline of his cock, flicking his eyes up to Steve's face. Steve's eyes are on Bucky's hand and he licks his lips, seemingly mesmerized by Bucky's gentle movements.

“The trick,” Bucky says, starting to move his hand more firmly, sliding his other hand up the front of Steve's shirt, “is to get you really, really turned on. The people who say foreplay isn't important are liars. You have to really want this.”

“I think I do,” Steve huffs out, still watching Bucky's hand on his dick.

Bucky pinches one of his nipples before soothing it gently with his thumb, earning a surprised little mewl for his efforts. “Yeah. I think you might.”

Bucky brings his hands to the waistband of Steve's sensible white underwear and lifts them up and over his dick. Steve lifts his hips without comment and Bucky pulls them down to his ankles with his sweatpants.

“Oh, this is very nice,” Bucky says, taking Steve in his hand and rubbing his thumb over where the head of Steve's half-hard dick is poking out from the foreskin. He strokes Steve for several minutes, bringing him to full hardness before leaning forward, eyes on Steve's face as he opens up and takes him into his mouth. Steve gasps and Bucky hums and wraps a hand around what isn't in his mouth, stroking his thumb along the underside as his tongue swirls around the crown. He watches Steve's face and groans when Steve tilts his head back against the couch and closes his eyes. Steve's thighs close against Bucky's ribs and Bucky gives it his best effort, wet and sloppy and loud and Steve's hands are down at his sides, grasping for purchase on the couch cushion below him. Bucky pulls off and strokes Steve's dick, looking up at him through lowered lashes. When he is sure Steve's attention is on him, he places open-mouthed, sucking kisses up the side of his dick. Steve whimpers and Bucky moans at the sound of it.


It's an obvious struggle for Steve to focus and Bucky smiles against his skin. “Yeah?”

“You wanna put your hands on me?”

Steve looks unaccountably pleased at the offer and his hands come up but stop somewhere around Bucky's shoulders. “Is that okay?”

His smile widens, licking out and tonguing the underside of Steve's dick. “Yes, Steve. That's okay.”

Bucky should have expected this from Steve, he really should have but it still catches him off guard. Steve's hands are gentle, one hand tangles in Bucky's hair, the other cups his cheek, thumb stroking along his jaw. He doesn't pull or guide or push, but he strokes reverently with something like tenderness. Bucky presses a kiss to his inner thigh, then takes him in again, sucking him down as far as he can, stroking what doesn't fit. Bucky uses his left hand to cup Steve's balls, waiting for the reaction. When all Steve does is shift his hips restlessly, Bucky continues, moving his other hand down lower, thumb pressing against his perineum while he lets his index finger brush lightly against his hole. Bucky casts a quick glance up to Steve's face, catching his eye. Steve is looking down at him like he's a modern marvel (with Steve looking at him like that, he almost feels like one) and Bucky becomes suddenly very aware of his own arousal hard and hot and painful between his legs. He moves his left hand down to his own dick and rubs at himself to relieve some of the pressure.

Steve gasps and jerks and without a hold on his hips, Bucky almost chokes. He pulls off, licking a line of saliva from his lower lip. “You okay?”

“Does this...are you...?” Steve asks, both hands at the side of Bucky's neck.

“Yeah,” he breathes, looking away from Steve to grab the lube and pump some onto his fingers. He reluctantly pulls his hand away from himself to grip Steve's cock and stroke hard. “Relax.”

Bucky presses his lubed finger to Steve's hole and pushes in, taking him back into his mouth at the same time. Steve is tight around his finger, but as Bucky continues to suck him off, he relaxes, fingers curling tight into Bucky's hair sending pricks of hot pleasure down his spine. He moans, thrusting in and curling his finger, rubbing gentle circles inside him. Steve's hips start rocking down against Bucky's finger, pushing his cock deeper into his mouth and Bucky gives one last hard push and Steve gasps and shouts Bucky's name, coming hot and thick against the back of his throat.

It takes Bucky by surprise, but he recovers quickly, swallowing around Steve's dick, sucking him through the shudders of his orgasm. When Steve relaxes back against the couch, Bucky pulls his finger out of Steve and shoves that hand down his sweats, wrapping his hand around himself and stroking hard and fast. He lets Steve's softening cock slip out of his mouth and he drops his hand away, resting it against Steve's thigh as he presses his sweaty forehead to the cool metal of his arm, closing his eyes and biting down on his lip as he comes over his fist inside his pants.

His breath is coming in damp gasps against the inside of Steve's thigh and he smiles to himself when he feels Steve's fingers in his hair pushing it back off his forehead as he tries to catch his breath. After a moment he looks up at Steve and smiles weakly. “How was that?”

Steve laughs roughly, curling his hand around the back of Bucky's neck, “Jeez, Buck. Wow. You're...that”

Bucky pulls his hand out of his pants and grimaces, wiping his palm against his thigh. He picks up the lube, pushes away from Steve and stands, his knees cracking against the change in position, his muscles feeling like jello. “I know, right?”

Steve rolls his eyes but smiles in that way that makes something soft and warm bloom in Bucky's chest. He tosses the lube into Steve's lap and smiles, “I need a shower, but I'm going to leave that with you. We'll call it homework.”

Steve picks up the lube and looks at it, then blushes, which is amusing considering he's still sitting on the couch with his pants around his ankles and his dick lying wet and sticky and soft against his thigh. Bucky licks his lips and Steve's eyes go dark for just a minute before they clear and he smiles sheepishly. “Thanks.”



“You haven't had lunch yet,” Bucky says, slipping into Steve's office and leaving the door open a crack.

“Bucky, I –”

“Can't leave for lunch. I'm just buried in work,” Bucky finishes, walking over to Steve's desk and flopping down in the chair across from Steve. He shoves a plastic bag onto the desk and sits back, taking in the piles of neatly stacked files that surround Steve. “Which I don't understand. You're a super hero. What sort of paper work does that involve? Does SHIELD require written reports? You need to fill out form DD257 when rescuing kittens from trees?”

“That's form 72-A, actually,” Steve says, reaching out and pulling the bag towards him. His face lights up when he sees the contents and Bucky can't help but feel duly proud of himself. “I love this place.”

He rolls his eyes, “Oh, that’s a coincidence then because I just found that in the lobby.”

Steve piles his papers neatly and places them in his inbox, clearing a space for him to eat. He looks up at Bucky and smiles and Bucky kind of wants to crawl across the table and taste that smile, almost does, but then Steve digs into his falafels and Bucky sets the thought aside.

“Therapy?” Steve asks, licking a spot of tzatziki sauce from the corner of his mouth Bucky follows the motion with his eyes and mimics it with his own tongue.

“Uh, yeah. And a meeting with Fury about a job sometime in the not too distant future. Then there are some things I wanted to pick up for you,” Bucky says with a purposeful leer.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Sex things. You've been doing your homework, right? It might be time to move on to bigger and better things. Namely bigger.”

Steve flushes a deep, hot red and Bucky chuckles darkly. He's about to describe in graphic, vulgar detail what these bigger and better things are when the door is pushed completely open and Clint strolls in. He walks up to Steve's desk, looks from Steve to Bucky and back and then smiles in a way that makes Bucky barely hold back a sneer.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“We were discussing the Bill of Rights. It gets Steve all hot and bothered,” Bucky says, turning unamused eyes on Clint.


“Makes sense,” Clint says, peeking over at Steve's food in front of him. “Rack of lamb? Must be nice to have a stay-at-home Russian Assassin boyfriend to bring you fancy lunches at work.”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but Bucky beats him to the punch. “Why, you in the market?”

Clint barks out a laugh that doesn't sound entirely genuine, “Thanks, but no thanks. Besides, Cap would be heartbroken if I stole his man right out from under him.”

“On top of him.”


“And I was referring to the assassin part,” he says, flinging his arm over the chair and raising an eyebrow in Clint's direction.

“Again, thanks but no thanks. One Russian assassin in my life is more than enough for me,” he says with a smile that actually borders on friendly.

Bucky turns to see Steve hiding his mortification behind his hands and he smiles and stands from his chair. “I'm sure Clint's here for Official Superhero Business, even though there's nothing super about him, so I'll leave you guys to it.”

He slaps Clint on the shoulder hard enough to knock him to the side a little and heads for the door.

“See you at home, baby,” he calls over his shoulder as he slips out and closes the door behind him.


Bucky likes sex shops. He hasn't been in many, not really, and not usually for their intended purposes but he likes them all the same. When he was working, he liked to buy handcuffs and rope and bindings there because anywhere else, he'd look homicidal. Which was true, of course, but he could buy those things in sex shops without arousing any suspicion. He wanders the aisles for several minutes before going back to the front of the store and picking up a basket. He goes right to the butt plugs and picks up a small silicone one and drops it into his basket before turning to the vibrating ones. He grabs two of those, an interesting-looking hooked vibrating prostate massager and a handful of disposable vibrating cock rings before moving onto the dildos. The first one he sees is about a foot and a half long and about the same diameter as his forearm and he has to bite down on his lip to stifle a laugh.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and takes a quick look around before snapping a picture and sending it to Steve. He wanders around and picks up a slim, definitely dick shaped dildo and drops it in his basket. His phone vibrates in his hand and the reply from Steve is an all caps, very bold “BUCKY. NO.

He smiles, then snaps a picture of a gallon tub of Boy Butter Extreme (which makes Bucky's eyebrows knit in confusion, truth be told) and sends that to Steve. His response is nearly instant, “Still no.”

He replies with an ominous, “We’ll see” and tucks his phone back into his pocket. He does ask one of the associates for lube advice since this isn't actually his area of expertise and he wants Steve to feel good. So good, in fact, that he'd be willing to let Bucky do this with him for a while. Maybe a pretty long while. Beggars can't be choosers and he knows that. He flirts with the girl behind the register, earning him the offer of free gift wrapping, which he is very amused by, thanks her profusely (with not a little bit of ogling) and heads back to Brooklyn.

He leaves the bag on the kitchen table and sets about making dinner, a variation of one of the things he saw on his favorite Food Network show. When Steve comes in at quarter to seven, Bucky is sitting at the table eating and reading one of the tech magazines he pilfered from the Stark Tower lobby.

“Hi,” Steve says a little glumly, trudging into the kitchen and helping himself to the chili on the stove. He sits down next to Bucky and shovels heaping spoonfuls into his mouth while idly glancing over at what Bucky is reading. He looks sullen and pouty and it's cute, but also kind of annoying.

“Steve,” Bucky says with a sigh, not bothering to look up from his magazine, “If this is about earlier, I'm sorry. Mostly. I'd say I didn't mean to embarrass you but that's not entirely true. That guy gets on my nerves and I –”

“I asked him not to talk to you like that,” Steve says. “I also said that he was welcome to ignore my advice but anything you did to him would be his problem, not mine.”

“Aren't you a peach,” Bucky says with a smirk, finally looking over at Steve.

“They're sending me away again. Alaska, three weeks minimum. AIM. Again,” Steve says, scooping more food into his mouth.

Bucky sighs, pushing his bowl across to Steve who finishes his own in two bites and then starts in on what's left of Bucky's. “Isn't it always them? Do you want me to just put bullets between their eyes and call it a day?”

Steve smiles, “Thanks. That's actually what Natasha said, too.”

He cups the back of Steve's neck and squeezes, letting his hand linger for just a moment before reaching across the table and grabbing the gift bag. He drops it in front of Steve, who glares at it and then turns that glare on Bucky.

“If there's a two-foot rubber penis in there, Barnes, so help me...”

He rolls his eyes, “Does this bag look big enough for a two-foot fake dick? And they're not made of rubber. That would chafe for sure. Open.”

Steve frowns and gives a disgruntled little huff, pushing his bowl out of the way and upending the bag on the table. The contents spill out and Steve, to his credit, doesn't even flinch. He spreads out the items, considering each of them and reading the packaging. Bucky sits by, chin propped up on the heel of his hand and watches Steve look at the toys.

“And why do I need these?”

“Because fingers are great, but the fullness is better. And things that vibrate? Those are the best. You can take those with you to Alaska. Keep you company,” Bucky says. Steve turns to him, face entirely devoid of any shyness and schooled into a mask of perfect naivety.

“I'm not sure I'd know the first thing about what to do with these. And I wouldn't want to be like that man you were reading about. Maybe if he hadn't been alone...”

Bucky licks his lips, “A sexual spotter. I would happily be that person for you. You know. If you wanted.”

“I do.”

Bucky smiles and stands back from the table. “Pick one you like and grab the lube. I'm going to take a shower. I'll meet you in your room in fifteen and be naked. Seriously this time.”

Bucky congratulates himself on not rubbing one out in the shower at the thought of what he's about to do to Steve. He takes his time though, tries to relax and get the gym stink from earlier off him. He towels off, does his best to dry his hair and pulls on a pair of clean underwear before making his way down the hall and into Steve's room. He pushes the door open and groans at the sight that greets him.

Steve is laid back against the pillows, one hand on his dick the other between his legs with two fingers pressed inside himself, the heel of his hand against his balls. When he catches sight of Bucky, he smiles.

“You were taking too long.”

Bucky crosses the room and crawls up onto the bed, settling himself between Steve's thighs. He places a hand on either side of Steve's waist and drops his head down to lick at one of his nipples, taking it between his teeth and biting down softly. Steve groans and Bucky pulls away to smile, gasping as the hand Steve is using to jerk himself off brushes against his crotch. Bucky kisses across Steve's chest and bites down at his other nipple, harder this time, making Steve gasp and writhe beneath him.

“Which one did you pick?” Bucky asks, tilting his head up to look at Steve. Steve pulls his hand away from his cock and Bucky looks down to watch him slide his fingers out of himself. He sits back on his heels between Steve's knees, then reaches out, idly brushing his fingers against Steve's slick opening and dipping the tip of his index finger inside. He grins when Steve rocks his hips against him. “You've been practicing.”

“I like it,” Steve says with an unashamed shrug. He reaches beside him and lifts up an orange silicone plug. Bucky feels a little tickle of pride. It isn't the one with the most bells and whistles, but it isn't the smallest one, either.

“I can tell.” He pulls his fingers away and reaches out to take the plug from Steve, grabbing the lube and pumping a fair amount over the head of it. It's wider than two of Steve's fingers, but not by much and it's longer and bulkier and curved just right. He spreads the lube around and brushes the head of the toy against Steve, carefully watching his face as he very slowly, very carefully pushes it inside.

Steve shifts a little, but doesn't make a sound as Bucky feels the tension ease and the plug slip all the way inside. Steve moves his hips and lets out a breathy little 'oh' and Bucky leans over and takes his cock in his mouth, sucking as much of him in as he can. He doesn't tease, doesn't have the self-restraint to with Steve spread out like this beneath him. It's been just short of two weeks since the time on the couch and he can't hold back. Steve is loud this time, enthusiastic and Bucky doesn't waste time, he props himself up in the curve of Steve’s thighs and has a hand in his underwear stroking himself rough and fast in the same rhythm he's sucking Steve off. He pulls off to lick down the underside of Steve's cock before licking over Steve's balls, sucking one into his mouth and Steve moans something that might be his name. Bucky groans in response, moving lower to lick behind them, then reaching out to give Steve's dick a few sure strokes.

There is a sheen of sweat on Steve's forehead and his eyes, though barely open, are entirely focused on Bucky. His hands are fisted in the sheets, twisting them in his fingers and Bucky smiles, leaning down so his lips brush over the tip of Steve's cock as he speaks.

“Come on, Steve.”

Then Steve's hands are in is hair guiding Bucky's head down and he takes him in, letting the tip of Steve's cock brush along his soft palate before easing back, wrapping a hand around the base to give him a little more friction. Bucky strokes himself faster, rocking his hips against the mattress, trapping his dick between his hand and the mattress and he stills for just a moment, groaning around Steve's dick as he comes over his fist, his underwear and the sheets.

“Jeez, Bucky,” Steve gasps, dropping one hand to brush against the nape of Bucky's neck.

He only needs a moment to recover, after that he pulls his hand out of his shorts, wipes it on the sheet, then reaches up to cup Steve's balls. He can feel Steve's muscles contracting, his thighs pressing against his shoulders trying to keep Bucky close. Bucky lifts up until he has just the tip of Steve in his mouth and strokes hard, opening his mouth so Steve can see the head of his dick against Bucky's wet, pink tongue.

Steve cries out wordlessly, coming in several hot, thick spurts across Bucky's tongue, some of it slipping out of the corner of his mouth and down over his chin. When Steve finishes coming, Bucky licks over the head of his dick, cleaning him off before sitting up cross-legged between Steve's legs. He uses his fingers to clean up what didn't make it in his mouth and licks them clean, making sure Steve is watching him as he does it. A moment later, he reaches out, smoothing his hands over Steve's thighs before reaching out and gingerly removing the butt plug. He gets up on his knees and leans over Steve, setting it down on the night stand before resuming his previous position.

“How was that?”

Steve blinks up at him for several moments before chuckling roughly, a bright smile on his face. “That was very good.”

“I'm glad,” he says, letting his hand rest on the inside of Steve's knee. He looks down at his crotch and lower stomach, “I need to shower again. You going to be okay?”

“I'm going to be very okay,” Steve says. He makes an abortive reach towards Bucky before letting his hand fall down beside him. “I should probably shower, too. And pack. They want me in Alaska by tomorrow afternoon.”

Bucky nods, gives Steve's knee a squeeze and scrambles off the bed, heading for the door. He pauses, looks back over to where Steve is lying on the bed, still watching him closely. “Please be...Don't do anything stupid, okay?”

Steve smiles warm and sweet and just like the skinny kid from Brooklyn he'd always be. “How can I?”

“Don't finish that.”


When pressed, Bucky will admit that he isn't displeased about the turn of events, but he will swear up and down that he never meant for things to turn out like this. Steve has been away for nearly a week and they're just joking around like they usually do when Steve has a quick minute to call. Steve will never openly admit it, but when he’s away he calls to check in on Bucky to make sure everything is still okay while he isn't around to sit vigil. Admittedly, Bucky has an innate knack for letting trouble find him.

It's cold, even in the summer. I'm ready to come home.

Be honest, you just miss my face.

Your face? Why? It's a terrible face.

Nah, my mouth is pretty good.

He wants to take the words back as soon as they're out, but in all fairness, it's a joke he would have made before...well, before and in the ensuing silence, he racks his brain for ways to turn it around. When he comes up with something, a lame something that will quickly change the subject, Steve keeps him from having to.

Your mouth is pretty good. I might miss it.

Which spirals into Bucky jerking off listening to Steve jerk off and okay, it might have been a thought he had entertained a handful of times (not including the Dirty Skype Thoughts) but hadn't genuinely expected to come to fruition. When Steve calls him the next night, he doesn't mention the phone sex thing, but it happens again. And then again. And on the fourth night, Bucky doesn't bother pretending these calls should be about anything else, just gets Steve to fuck himself on his fingers and come as quickly as he can.

It's a Thursday afternoon three and a half weeks after Steve left for Alaska when Bucky comes back from SHIELD after a meeting with Fury and a therapy session where he talks about everything but what is actually on his mind (he talked about the kids in Pakistan just to avoid talking about Steve) and senses something is different. There are no signs of a disturbance, nothing seems out of the ordinary but then there is...soap. It smells like soap and clean and Steve. His shoulders relax and he lets out a breath he hadn't intended to hold.

“Steve,” he says, walking across the living room and over to Steve's bedroom.

“I was going to surprise you,” he hears from inside Steve's room.

“One, you can't surprise me. Two, if you could, I'd probably kill you. Accidentally of course because I can't help myself, but still. Death. Certainly,” Bucky says lightly, making his way to Steve's door and opening it. He's ashamed to admit that the first thing he notices is the Cap uniform balled up on the floor of the bedroom. The second, of course, is Steve himself, standing naked in the middle of the room with his half-hard dick in his hand and one of the vibrating cock rings looped around one of his balls and halfway up his dick. Bucky brings his hand up to his mouth but it doesn't muffle the laugh. Steve, for his part, just glares at him.

“I read the packaging and it said you should be...soft...when you put it on. But I couldn't get it right the first time, or the second, and the more I tried, the, uh...” Steve trails off, frowning.

“The harder it got?” Bucky asks with a raised eyebrow.

Steve rolls his eyes, “The more difficult it was to manage.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and settles himself, “Want me to give you a hand?”

At this, Steve laughs, bright and happy and Bucky wants to kiss him. “No, see, I think that would be the opposite effect I need to happen.”

“Or you could scrap it,” he suggests, walking over to Steve who lifts his hands up and out of the way. Bucky drops to his knees and reaches out, gripping the cock ring and pulling it wide. Steve reaches down and pushes himself the rest of the way through as Bucky rearranges it so the vibrating bullet is tucked right under his balls. He presses a kiss to the little pink line across the top of Steve's dick, then to each of his balls before taking him in hand. “You want it like this?”

“I want,” Steve huffs out a breath and looks down at Bucky on his knees in front of him. “I want you.”

Bucky smiles, “Now that's not very specific. Should I leave you alone so you can have a moment to think about it?”

“No, you jerk,” Steve says, reaching out hooking a hand around the back of Bucky's neck to keep him close. As if he could ever walk away from Steve. Like this, or any other way. “When we were talking last night.”

“Mmmm,” Bucky hums, tipping forward to lick at the tip of Steve's cock. “I remember.”

“You said you'd,” Steve gasps a little as Bucky strokes him with gentle, sure fingers. “You said you'd put your tongue...”

“There are a lot of places I've said I'd put my tongue, Steve. You need to be more specific.” To emphasize his point, he licks along the seam of Steve's balls up to the tip of his dick. He wraps his lips around the head, swirls his tongue and sucks hard, making Steve gasp, stumble and grip Bucky's shoulders for purchase. He rolls his eyes up to Steve’s face, “Besides. If you can't ask for it, you probably don't deserve to get it.”

“There's no need to be mean,” Steve says, brushing a hand up Bucky's shoulder and over his cheek. He smiles, dark and full of want. “Rimming.”

“Ah. That one,” Bucky kisses Steve's hip and rolls back on his heels, pushing himself to his feet. “Great idea, get on the bed.”

Steve sort of sways a little and then moves over to the bed, lying on his back and scooting up. Bucky kicks off his shoes and socks, taking a moment to admire the figure Steve cuts laid out on the bed for him. He takes a long look at his face, before sighing, “Hate to say it because boy do I love your pretty face, but this will be easier on your stomach.”

Steve doesn't hesitate, just rolls over and lifts his hips, knees spread wide enough for Bucky to get between them. He asks, “Have you been doing research?”

He doesn't wait for an answer, just settles himself between Steve's knees and leans over, reaching around to toggle the switch on the cock ring. Steve lets out a very unmanly yelp and Bucky laughs softly, grabbing his dick and stroking a little lazily before bringing his hands around to his ass. He tucks his thumbs in and spreads Steve wide, humming a little in satisfaction. He shifts forward, darting his tongue out to lick from top to taint, laughing a little when he reaches the bottom.


“The vibration. Tickles. 'S okay, I'll get used to it.”

The second time he goes from bottom to top and Steve sighs, and shifts a little, a hand moving from his side to between his legs, getting his dick in an underhand hold and stroking. Bucky groans and licks into him, pressing his lips against him and fucking him with his tongue. Steve laughs at the sensation and Bucky smiles against him, closing his eyes and pressing his tongue farther in, moving his lips against him. Steve groans and Bucky feels him stroking himself harder and Bucky goes faster, opening Steve up wider, working his lips and tongue to the rhythm of Steve's hand. He can feel Steve's thighs shaking against his hands and he moans licking into Steve faster, trying to keep up with how roughly Steve's jerking himself off.

He pulls back and moves lower, licking and sucking at his balls, lipping at them as Steve moans and whimpers into the pillow below his head. Bucky pulls away so he can look at his face and Steve's eyes shoot open. He looks around wildly for a moment before he focuses and whines out, “No, Bucky please, I'm so close.”

So Bucky moves in again, spreading Steve open for him before licking at him, pointing his tongue and shoving it inside, fucking him with it, moaning and pressing his lips against him. Steve rocks his hips back against his face and shudders. He stiffens and comes hard with a choked off whine, rolling his hips between Bucky's mouth and his own hand as he rides out his orgasm. After a few moments, his knees give out and he goes flat against the bed, making Bucky fall against him. He pulls away and pushes at Steve's leg until he rolls onto his back and Bucky very gently reaches underneath his balls so he can flip the switch to turn the cock ring off. He flops over onto his back at Steve's side and tilts his head up so he can see Steve's face.

“Bucky...” Steve says, voice rough, eyes heavy-lidded and bottom lip pink and swollen from being worked between his teeth.

Bucky moans and closes his eyes, reaching down to open his fly and pull his dick out. He hears Steve's sharp intake of air as he spits into his hand and starts stroking himself, firm, quick pulls to finish himself off fast. He feels the bed shift and Steve's shoulder brushes against his own, his hand a barely-felt pressure on his left shoulder.

“Bucky, I should...”

And Bucky opens his eyes, meeting Steve's as he comes with a groan all over his fist, his shirt and his jeans. Steve makes a sound something like a whimper and his eyes dart from Bucky's own, down to where his dick is in his come-covered hand. Bucky's breathing is harsh and there is a sheen of sweat dotting his forehead and Steve smiles, reaching out a hand to brush Bucky's unruly hair off his forehead.

“I liked that.”

Bucky returns his smile with one of his own, “What? My tongue in you or me coming all over myself?”

Steve's smile is slow and fond, despite the pink blush on his cheeks that makes that old, comfortable ache throb deep in his chest. He's propped up over Bucky, the hand that had been in his hair resting warmly against the side of his neck. They're close and relaxed and it's nice, but the moment stretches and neither of them move so Bucky stops letting his mind wander in the maybes and makes an ugly face at him. Steve laughs and rolls back against the pillows while Bucky wipes his hands on his pants with a cringe. He tucks himself back in and hauls himself to his feet, muscles still weak, knees shaky after the orgasm.

He points to the cock ring Steve is still wearing, “Better take that off before you chafe. Your dick will fall off, you know.”

Steve laughs again and Bucky smiles, heading towards the door. “I'm going to get cleaned off and check rimming off the list.”

The laughing slows and Steve says, “Yeah, I actually have to go back to work to check in. I was supposed to … Wait. You have a list?”

He shrugs, “More of a chart, really. Ticky boxes. I love ticky boxes.”

Bucky takes Steve's slack-jawed stare as his cue to leave and shuts Steve's bedroom door behind him, laughing to himself when he hears Steve yell, “You better not have a chart, Barnes! No charts!”


Bucky makes a chart. It lists the things they've done, the toys Bucky bought for him and the degrees to which he enjoyed it. He puts it on the refrigerator and nearly pees himself laughing at Steve's mortified outrage upon seeing it. He doesn't talk to Bucky for the rest of the night and every time they make eye contact, Steve blushes bright pink and Bucky starts laughing again. Steve doesn't take it down, though, doesn't even ask Bucky to. When he rolls out of bed the next morning after Steve has gone into work, he finds he left the coffee on and when Bucky goes into the refrigerator for cream, he sees the chart.

Steve has updated it. Where Bucky had left blanks (dildo, vibrating butt plug, prostate stimulator that looks like a torture device), Steve has checked off loved it, really liked it, and liked it. He's also corrected fingers and tongue, crossing out Bucky's really liked it and checking off loved it. He picks up his phone, ready to embarrass Steve via text but he changes his mind. He wants to see Steve's face when he asks him about it.

When he goes by SHIELD that afternoon, he finds that Steve has been called off to capture a completely batshit insane Hank Pym and prevent him from doing the completely batshit insane things he is wont to do. Bucky has met that guy and kind of hopes Steve puts his head through a wall for good measure.

As is the nature of superheroing, Steve doesn't come home that night, or the next, or the one after that. Bucky's calls and texts go unanswered mostly as he expects, but Natasha assures him (with a speculative stare that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention) that Steve is alive and well. He continues to make extra at dinner just in case, leaves the light on in the hall when he goes to bed.

Surprisingly, he doesn't have nightmares often, but when he does, they're crippling. He'd asked his therapist if they could be considered nightmares if they were actually just memories of the things he'd done and she'd gone very quiet. The things he'd done were far worse than anything a person's subconscious mind could put together, that he was certain of. When he does have what he calls true nightmares, they're usually about Steve. When they're about Steve, they're about what he might have done to him. Throwing a knife that hits him between the eyes and drops him where he stands. Getting one good punch to his head with his bad hand. Steve standing in front of him, cowl pulled back, shield on the ground between them saying, “If you don't remember me, Bucky, take the shot.” And he does.

Bucky wakes up sweating, hands curled in the bed sheets, jaw tight from being clenched shut. He blinks, eyes adjusting to the moonlit room and he looks around, tries to calm his mind and his racing heart. There's a flicker of a shadow in the hall and Bucky reaches for the knife he keeps between the nightstand and the mattress. The floorboards creak and the shadow in the hall moves more like it’s pacing and he sighs, letting go of the knife handle.


The shadow stops and the door hinges open revealing a slump-shouldered Steve wearing a thin white tee-shirt and loose-fitting sleep pants. His hair is a little disheveled and he looks exhausted and Bucky can see a shadow of a bruise on his left cheek. It will be gone by the morning, but it still makes a part of Bucky want to make someone pay dearly for it.

“I heard...there were rustling sheets and some groaning so I figured you were either having good sex or a bad dream,” he says, stepping into the room a little more. The light from the hall makes him almost look angelic, as if he needed any help with that.

Bucky props himself up against the headboard and shrugs. “Definitely not sex. Are you happy with the outcome?”

Steve looks guilty, “I want to say no, but...”

Bucky smiles and it's a little sharp, a little more pointed than he's used to showing Steve but he's still unsettled. He's still trying to tuck away the hints of the man he tries not to be, at least when he knows Steve is watching. Steve looks nervous and uncertain so Bucky sighs, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Look, I'm okay, Steve. I'm fine.”

“I know.”

He seems to find his resolve as his shoulders straighten and he makes his way over to the bed. He pulls the covers back and slips in beside Bucky, turning over onto his side and propping his head up on his hand.

“I'm naked under here.”

“You're not,” Steve says with a smile. “I know you. You keep a gun by the toilet in the bathroom and there's probably a knife under the mattress. You're not going to sleep naked because you wouldn't want to fight someone naked. Not that you couldn't, you just wouldn't want to.”

Steve flips the sheet back and smiles at Bucky's boxer briefs. “Thought so.”

Bucky scoots down in the bed and turns on his side in a mirror of Steve's position. “How's Pym? Dead yet?”

“Bucky,” he chides.

“What? He's awful. I don't even know how you let him into your superhero clubhouse. And if I'm saying someone is a shit guy then he's a shit guy.”

“He's...troubled,” Steve allows. “He turned himself into a giant and tossed me around like a kid's toy. Wasn't fun. Swatted Tony out of the air like a fly. Hulk and Thor were finally able to beat him into submission and Clint was able to dose him with something to shrink him and keep him from changing. We took him to one of our facilities in Nevada to get him some help. Tony's about had it with him and I can't say I disagree. I've had about three hours of sleep in as many days. I'm beat.”

“You should get some rest,” Bucky says with a yawn. “I'm okay. You don't need to sit up with me, I'll fall asleep in a little while.”

Steve furrows his brows, “I'm sorry, who said this was about you? It was perfectly coincidental that you were having a nightmare as I was coming to get into bed with you. I was going to leave you to it, truth be told. I know I like having quality time with my own nightmares. Gives them time to really settle in.”

Bucky stares at Steve for just a moment, a little too bowled over to respond. “Wow. Guess all that time spent as a human glacier really gave you time to hone your sarcasm.”

“I think it was the serum. Amplified everything about me.”

“No,” Bucky says with a shake of his head. “You weren't this sarcastic before I fell out of the train. I remember. You were all earnest and gentlemanly and 'oh shucks, ma'am.' Now you're kind of a bitter pill. It's new and exciting.”

When Steve goes all solemn and thoughtful like he does whenever Bucky mentions his pseudo-death, Bucky lets the comment settle for a moment before picking up a new thread. “What did you want to sneak in here for anyway? Payback for the chart? Were you going to tie me up and have your way with me? I might like that. No, I'd definitely like that.”


Then Steve is moving forward, crowding into Bucky's space and pressing their lips together in the barest suggestion of a kiss. Bucky closes his eyes and goes still against Steve, who pulls back, but doesn't move very far away. He breathes for a moment before looking back at Steve who looks nervous and hopeful in equal measures. Bucky blinks at him.

“We don’t kiss,” he says by way of explanation.

“Oh,” is all Bucky can think to say. He reaches out, feeling the pressure of Steve's head against his hand, rubs his thumb just behind Steve's ear and feels a little part of him relax when Steve doesn't start at the touch of cold metal against warm skin. He rolls onto his back and pulls Steve down to him, slow and gentle, giving himself a moment to savor the anticipation of this. When he can feel Steve's breath against his wet lips, he tilts his chin, pressing his lips against Steve's bottom lip. He kisses Steve slowly, pulling him closer only by the millimeter, leaning back against the pillows to make Steve press into him more. Steve ends the kiss and pulls back, eyes wide and searching Bucky's face for just a moment before dipping down to kiss him again.

This time, Steve moves over him fully, slipping knee between Bucky's legs, propping himself up over Bucky as he sweeps his tongue into his mouth, moaning when Bucky tugs at his hair. Bucky pulls Steve closer, running his other hand over Steve's side down to his ass, cupping it and squeezing. Steve pulls back with a gasp, dropping his head to kiss at Bucky's jaw and his neck, over his throat and across his collar bone. He pauses for a moment, and Bucky can't look at him because he knows what Steve is fixated on. His lips are warm and soft against the thick skin, a faint pressure against the metal of his shoulder for a moment, then Steve is moving on, kissing over his chest, across his nipples, pausing to flick at one with his tongue. He doesn't move any lower than his ribcage before he's sliding back up to his lips kissing the breath out of his lungs.

Bucky nips at Steve's lip, sliding his hand into the waistband of Steve's pants so he can get a handful of skin to dig his fingers into and Steve groans, rocking his hips against Bucky. Bucky shifts so he can thrust back against Steve, using his hand on his ass to get Steve in just the right spot. Steve presses their bodies together and moans low in Bucky's ear and Bucky uses the hand that's still in his hair to turn his head so they can kiss again.

Steve pulls away, lifting himself up on his forearms so he can look down at Bucky.

Bucky doesn't give him the time to get his bearing, just moves both hands to Steve's waistband, grips his pants and his underwear and shoves them down his thighs. He wraps his hand around Steve's dick and strokes, trying to bring him in for another kiss.

“Wait, Bucky, wait,” Steve says with a rough laugh that makes Bucky want to kiss him again.

“What?” he asks, kissing at Steve's neck and still trying to jerk him off.

“You have to...” he trails off, rocking over onto his side so he can get a hand to Bucky's hip. He reaches for his underwear and Bucky's hand moves to Steve's wrist to stop him, his heart thudding in his chest because he’s not sure Steve’s ready for this. Steve smiles at him slow and knowing like he understands what Bucky's been doing all along.

“Bucky,” Steve chides, pulling his hand away and cupping Bucky through his underwear.

Steve's hand on him sends a bolt of white-hot pleasure up his spine and he groans and rocks up into the touch, earning a smug smile from Steve.

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles, pushing Steve away so he can hook his thumbs in his underwear and pull them off. He flings them off the side of the bed and turns to see Steve pulling his pants all the way off. He sits up to pull his shirt off and toss it away and Bucky is pulling him back on top of him before the shirt even hits the floor. Steve straddles his hips, pressing their cocks together and rutting hard against Bucky, drawing a long moan from him. He grabs at Steve's hips and rocks against him, pulling him closer to keep the friction tight and hot. Steve leans forward pressing their foreheads together and Bucky kisses him and kisses him until all he can really do is pant into his mouth for lack of air. Steve thrusts against him twice and then he's coming in hot, thick pulses between their bodies, breathing Bucky's name into his ear and Bucky's close, he's so close.

Steve pulls back and Bucky reaches down but Steve's hand is there first, wrapped around him tight and sure. He only gets a few good tugs in before Bucky is arching and coming over Steve's fist and onto his own stomach, closing his eyes and tossing his head back against the pillow. It takes him longer than usual to catch his breath and when he does, he looks over to see Steve looking down at his come covered hand with an unusual expression on his face.

He's about to sit up and get Steve something to wipe his hand on when Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and licks from palm to fingertip.

“Oh my God, Steve, no, oh no,” Bucky groans, closing his eyes and pressing his hand to his forehead.

He can hear Steve's lips smack together and he whimpers involuntarily. He can't look at him. He can’t risk seeing that again lest it be the only thing he jerks off to for the rest of his life.

“Sorry,” Steve says a little sheepishly. “But it's not so bad, you know?”

Bucky peeks at Steve through his fingers, “Yeah, buddy, I know.”

When he's certain Steve isn't going to try to give him a heart attack again, he sits up and reaches over to pick up his discarded underwear. He wipes his chest clean and then grabs Steve by the forearm, wiping his hand clean. He reaches out and cleans off Steve's stomach, letting his fingers accidentally brush over his nipples as he pulls away. Steve smiles and Bucky feels...he feels and it hasn't been that way in a long time.

He stands from the bed, opening the closet and tossing the dirty underwear into his hamper. He goes to the drawer and pulls out a clean pair, stepping into them and pulling them up, letting the waistband snap against his hip before turning back to the bed. Steve is standing by the side of the bed in just his underwear with his shirt in his hand staring at Bucky strangely.

“Hmm?” He asks, walking over to the bed to straighten out the covers.

Steve shakes his head and pulls his shirt down over his head. He slips back into the bed and Bucky raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything because Steve is the last person he's ever going to kick out of his bed. He goes out into the hall and turns off the light, shutting the door behind him as he comes back into the bedroom. He gets into bed beside Steve, trying to make out Steve's features as his eyes adjust to the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains.

They look at each other for a moment, then Steve rolls over onto his other side, reaching behind him and pulling Bucky's arm around him. Bucky takes the hint and fits his body behind Steve's, tucking his arm to Steve's chest and pulling him in close. He moves his other arm under the pillow beneath Steve's head and leans forward to kiss the back of his neck.

“You know,” Steve says, “Just in case I have nightmares about Hank Pym coming to kill me.”

Bucky snorts, “Any dream about Pym is a nightmare. But just in case.”


“Sergeant Barnes,” Fury says, gesturing to the course laid out before them, “This course was designed to test the agility, speed, accuracy and decision making skills of SHIELD agents. The difficulty level of this course is extreme. We've asked agents Barton and Romanoff to increase that level of difficulty to one that would be suited to a soldier of your skill level. You can run this course as many times as you'd like.”

Bucky eyes the floor below them and without an ounce of egotism says, “I'll only need once.”

Fury raises his eyebrow, “All right then. Choose your weapons.”

Bucky moves to the table, picks up two Glock 9mm, checks the magazine on each and then holsters one under his arm and the other at his hip. He looks over the table sees the one sniper rifle and the set of knives. He frowns, leaves the rifle and takes three of the knives, sheathing two of them on the side opposite the holster. He looks over the table again and selects a large, single-action long-barreled Ruger Blackhawk as his final weapon, holsters it at his thigh and turns to Fury, “Okay.”

He nods. “We will be observing you from up here. Agent Sitwell will lead you down to the course.”

He follows Agent Sitwell down and out of the room, passing Steve without comment. He leads him down a set of stairs and into a holding room with a door at the opposite end. Sitwell walks him in and then heads back to the door they came through.

“You can draw your weapon as soon as this door closes. The clock starts when you step out onto the course. Good luck.”

Bucky nods and pulls out the revolver and a knife. He opens the door, steps out and the lights cut off. Strobe lights flicker, red lights flash and a soundtrack plays that seems like a mix of screams, ambulances and explosions. He smiles. Sounds like the fall of the Kremlin all over again. He focuses on the room in front of him, takes a deep breath and moves forward.

He’s out of practice for this kind of work, but this is what he does. This is what he was made to do. His mind goes blank until all he can see is the target and all he can feel is the recoil of the gun in his flesh and blood arm. He reloads and reloads and reloads and pulls out a knife and he never stops moving forward, never stops watching and waiting and moving and he’s good at this. He ducks and rolls and hides behind corners and it’s so loud and confusing but he’s calm and focused and this is how he’s at his best. He reaches the end, aims but doesn’t fire and holds his gun up, raises both arms to show that he’s finished, and the sirens stop, the lights come on and he grins.

“Sergeant Barnes, holster your weapon.”

He blinks and holsters his Glock. He takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders back and flexes his fingers. He looks up to the window over the training floor and gives a salute to where he knows Steve is watching. A door to his right slides open and Agent Sitwell is there again, this time looking a little ashen and dumbstruck. He beckons for Bucky to follow him and he does, leading him back up the stairs and into the observation room.

Natasha and Fury look as composed as ever, Barton is frowning a little, Agents Mathers, Caulfield, Chen and Johnson are looking at him in terrified awe, and Steve is...yeah, he doesn't usually see that look when Bucky isn't on his knees in front of him. He looks back to Fury.


Bucky furrows his brow, “Your weapons table gave it away. Forty pistols, one set of knives and one sniper rifle. Which meant I'd need both the knives and the rifle, but carrying a rifle would be too cumbersome, so I opted for the revolver because I can get a cleaner long-distance kill with a single-action than I can with a semiautomatic. I led with the long-distance shots because they would always see me before anyone on the ground would. Take them out first, then there would be the first wave of responders. Knives are more effective in close-combat than guns and everything else was practice.”

“You didn't shoot the last one,” Barton says with a glare.

“SHIELD agent,” Bucky says with a shrug. “Saw the insignia on the bottom left corner of her shirt.”

“There's no saying she wasn't turned,” he responds darkly.

“Yeah, but she didn't have a weapon.”

“So you're saying that when I was turned you could have drawn on me faster than I could have drawn on you?”

He rolls his eyes, “What is this, the old west? One, I was already holding a gun and two, I’m not going to bring a bow and arrow to a gun fight.”

Natasha clears her throat to break the tension and offers her hand to Bucky. He smiles at her bordering on lewd as he takes her hand. She almost smiles back, “Welcome to SHIELD, James.”

Fury looks as approving as he'd ever seen him which is to say he's also very nearly smiling, “Welcome aboard.”

He and Natasha file out of the room, the four other agents mumbling their welcomes as they pass him, no one taking their eyes off him. Barton smiles at him, and though it’s sharp, it’s very nearly friendly, “Welcome, Agent Barnes. Although my condolences to Steve on losing his mail-order bride.”

“Clint,” Steve warns.

“Aww, no,” Bucky says, sidling up to Steve and slipping an arm around his waist, “I'll still keep up my wifely duties where it counts.”


He winks at Barton who laughs a little and shakes his head. He gives them both a weak wave as he makes his exit, leaving Bucky and Steve alone in the room. Bucky steps away from Steve and over to the table, neatly dismantling his used weapons before laying them out on the table. When he's finished, he goes over to where Steve is staring out at the course and Bucky tries to see what Steve sees, but all he can see is carnage in effigy and what represents piles of human bodies he eliminated with a brutal, calculated efficiency.

“I told you watching might not be such a good idea. You shouldn't have had to –”

Steve cuts him off, by grabbing him around the waist and kissing him hard. Bucky gasps in surprise, and Steve takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in his mouth, pressing his body against Bucky's. Bucky groans, digging his hands into Steve's hair and kissing him back for all he's worth. One of Steve's hands slips down to Bucky's ass squeezing hard and pulling him closer. Bucky gasps against his lips, licking into Steve's mouth, pushing him back against the wall and rocking up against him.

A door to the training floor opens and Bucky pulls away with a deep breath, stepping away from Steve. He's leaning back against the wall, flushed and panting and disheveled and Bucky groans. “Take a long lunch. Please. Let me take you home.”

Steve takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders, “No, no. Sorry. That was unprofessional. Good job, Agent Barnes.”

Bucky snorts. “Had I known guns and knives got you off, I would have let you come along on those solo missions during the war.”

Steve smiles a little softly, “No. It's just you.”

Bucky's going to kiss him again, decorum be damned, but then the door opens again and Barton sticks his head in. Bucky doesn't hide his irritated glare.

“If you two are finished exchanging vows, Fury wants to see Barnes in his office.” He looks from Steve to Bucky and back again. He stares at Steve for a bit longer than Bucky is comfortable with and makes a pained face. “Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me? Seriously? Ugh. Just. Get it together.”

When Barton closes the door behind him, Bucky turns to Steve, takes in his embarrassed face and laughs. He pats him on the cheek, taking a moment to rub his thumb along his jaw. “I'll see you later, okay?”

He doesn't wait for Steve to respond or he might not ever get to Fury's office.

He spends the rest of the afternoon filling out paperwork and taking medical exams. They review his performance on the target course and Bucky takes note that there are more agents than there strictly should be gathered around to watch. He isn't even basking in their awe. This is what he was trained to do and he's definitely been more creative than this. This was a warm up compared to the training he and Natasha went through.

It's well past seven when he gets home and there's a light on in the living room, but the kitchen is dark. He sets his bag down by the door and makes his way across the room and to Steve's bedroom. There's a light on so he pushes the door open to find Steve sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks up and smiles, so Bucky walks over and sits down next to him.

“They're sending you out tomorrow, aren't they?”

“Yeah, two weeks,” Bucky confirms, sliding a hand down from Steve’s shoulder to rest on his lower back. Steve turns his head and kisses him, just a gentle press of lips and Bucky pulls away. “Wanna grab something to eat? I'll take you out all proper like.”

Steve snorts, threads a hand into Bucky's hair and kisses him again, pulling him off balance so he has to drop a hand to the bed to steady himself. Steve slides up the bed and Bucky follows, propping himself up with his hand and sliding the other under Steve's shirt. He kisses him again, long and deep, moans when Steve slides both of his hands under his shirt. He pulls away to smile down at Steve, “So that's a no?”

“No. I'll make something later,” Steve says, trying to pull Bucky into another kiss.

Bucky frowns and pulls back, “No offense, Steve, but you're an awful cook. Terrible. I wasn't making you dinner as a courtesy. It was for survival.”

Steve looks shocked and then his brow furrows. He puts a hand to Bucky's chest and pushes, “Oh, okay then, fine.”

Bucky laughs and covers Steve's hand with his own, leaning down to kiss him again, following Steve's face when he turns it away. Steve lets Bucky kiss him and Bucky smiles against his lips. He drops his hand to the bed and Steve's hand curls into Bucky's shirt, pulling him closer. Bucky lays his body over Steve’s, kissing him deeper, rocking his body against Steve's a little restlessly. Steve nips at his lips as he pulls away, gripping the hem of Bucky's shirt and tugging. Bucky smiles and leans back to lift off his shirt and Steve reaches for him, pulling him down and over him again, hooking a leg around one of Bucky's and rocking up against him.

“Oh, so it's going to be like that,” Bucky says huskily, pushing Steve's shirt up and sitting back to yank it over his head. He rolls off Steve so he can kick off his shoes and socks and shuck his pants down his legs and off. He looks over to where Steve is doing the same and pulls off his underwear. When he's naked, he rolls over next to Steve, reaches out to wrap his hand around his cock and stroke lazily. “What do you want, then? My mouth? Tongue?”

Steve snorts, but then reaches out to take Bucky in hand. He works him tighter and faster than Bucky is working Steve and Bucky hums, rocking up into his hand. “Or this. This is good, too.”

“No,” Steve says, rolling away from Bucky and reaching into the night stand. He pulls out lube and a condom and hands them both to Bucky, making his heart feel like it’s trying to crawl out through his throat. Bucky takes them and leans down to kiss Steve a little desperately, clumsy and off-center and still not enough. When Steve pulls away gasping, Bucky tosses the condom aside and flips open the lube, squirting some onto his fingers. He gets two in Steve with little resistance, groaning at the realization that Steve is still relaxed and open from the toy they played with that morning. He kisses along Steve's thigh, up to his hip before he tongues over his balls and up the bottom of his dick. He takes his other hand and wraps it around Steve's dick, brushing the head of it against his lips before he takes him in.

Steve moans and fists a hand in Bucky's hair and Bucky works him over thoroughly with his mouth while he fucks him with his fingers, pulling off to dig his teeth into Steve's thigh while he slips in a third finger. He spreads them wide, licking at Steve's balls, sucking one into his mouth as he rubs at his prostate, using his thumb to press just under his balls. He tastes the precome on his tongue and lets him slip from his mouth. He looks up the line of Steve's body until he can meet his eyes and smiles at how thoroughly wrecked he looks.

“You want to come now or when I'm in you?” Bucky asks, twisting his wrist and rubbing at Steve hard. He clenches his thighs against Bucky's shoulders, rolls his hips and moans. Bucky smiles, “That's not an answer.”

“I want...when you...” he gasps out.

“Now? All right,” Bucky says, licking along the side of Steve's dick. Steve reaches down and pushes Bucky's head away with a whine.

“Bucky, no, come on.”

Bucky laughs and kisses Steve's hip, “Fine, fine.”

He pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the bedspread then reaches for the condom. He tears open the packet and tosses the wrapper aside as he rolls it on, squeezing around the base of his dick to calm himself down. He spreads more lube on his dick and lines himself up, hooking an arm under one of Steve's knees to get the angle right. He looks down at where the head of his dick is pressed against Steve's body and then looks back up to Steve's face. He bites down on his lips and doesn't break eye contact as he pushes in slowly, not stopping until his balls are pressed flush to Steve's ass. Steve lets out a huff of a breath and Bucky leans over him and kisses up his neck to his chin before finally reaching his lips. He drops down to his forearms so their hips are pressed close together, Steve's cock trapped between them. He rolls his hips and Steve breaks the kiss to gasp and he looks surprised and overcome and Bucky has wanted this for a lifetime and it's better than any of his dirtiest fantasies.

“Buck,” he breathes, sliding his hands down Bucky's sides and digging his fingers into his ribs. He rocks his hips and his muscles tighten around Bucky and he whimpers, dropping a quick kiss on Steve's lips.

He starts thrusting, slow and tight, keeping them close together until Steve starts murmuring things about needing more, wanting it faster and harder but Bucky keeps the pace until Steve bucks up against him, grabs his ass and says, “Bucky, if you don't get this going I'm going to kick you out and finish myself off. Come on. Make this worth it.”

Never let it be said that James Buchanan Barnes balked at challenges.

He braces his hands beside Steve's shoulders, Steve hitches a leg up his thigh and Bucky fucks into him hard making the bed frame creak with the force of it. Steve looks somewhere between pained and pleased, so he does it again and Steve moans, digging his fingers into his ass to pull him closer. He drops his head so he can breathe the filthiest things he can think up into Steve's ear. He tells him how good he feels, tight and hot around him, how fucking hot he is like this begging for Bucky to give it to him harder and harder, how he's been thinking about doing this to him since he even knew what fucking was, how hard Steve is going to come on Bucky's dick, how he's going to love it.

Steve is so close to coming he's trembling, so Bucky lifts up, shoves a hand between them and starts jerking him off. A minute later, Steve comes with a strangled cry, pressing hard into Bucky's hips with his thighs, his eyes rolling back and spurting hot, thick lines of come between them. Bucky fucks him through it, dropping to his elbows and burying his face in the crook of Steve's neck as he stills and comes, a tingling wave of pleasure starting out at the base of his spine and rolling over him making him stutter a breath and jerk his hips against Steve. It takes him a moment to come down and realize that Steve is supporting his full weight, his hands on his back, his lips pressing kisses to the top of his sweaty head.

He reaches between them to wrap his fingers around his dick as he pulls out, sitting up on his knees to slide the condom off, tie it closed and set it aside. He cleans them both off with the sheet before pushing it to the end of the bed and settling down beside Steve who does little more than blink as he catches his breath. Bucky reaches over so that his hand rests on the pillow and his fingers can card through Steve's hair. He lays beside him quietly, letting him collect himself in his own time, watching the play of expressions on his face. After several minutes, Steve turns to him and frowns.

“Now I'm angry with you.”

It takes a moment to process and even after it does, all Bucky can do is mumble a “Wha?”

“We should have been doing this years ago. At least at the old place we had before you enlisted. At the very least when you came back and moved in here. You've been withholding.”

It takes Bucky much longer than he's proud of to find his ground in this conversation, but when he does he dishes it right back. “Uh, okay, one, I didn't really think the thirties were a good time to proposition your best friend about getting it on in filthy hot gay ways, as much as I really wanted to. Two, when I got back I didn't think 'sorry I tried to kill you, down to fuck?' was a good way to try to mend our friendship which was sort of my priority there.”

“I don't know, I think it would have done wonders for the path to forgiveness,” Steve says with a wry smile and Bucky has to kiss him.

Steve hums against his lips, then shoves Bucky away with a hand to his chest. Bucky rolls back over onto his side and watches as Steve gets out of the bed shifting a little awkwardly before bending over, picking up his discarded sweats and pulling them on. He turns to Bucky expectantly, “I thought you said you were hungry.”

Bucky, for once, has no comment in response to Steve's sass. He gets out of bed, pulls on his underwear and follows Steve into the kitchen staring at his ass the whole way. Bucky hops up onto the counter while Steve opens the refrigerator and pokes his head inside, digging through the contents. With the refrigerator door in his face, Bucky eyes the chart on the door thoughtfully while Steve rattles off things they could potentially eat. Bucky zones out, wondering how embarrassed Steve would be if he added “my dick” to the bottom of the chart.

“Barnes,” Steve says in that tone that means he'd tried to get Bucky's attention at least twice with no success.


“I said we should just order in,” Steve repeats. He looks from Bucky to the refrigerator door and blushes faintly before smiling a little softly back at Bucky. He puts his hand on Bucky's bare knee, fingers curled around so they brush the inside of his thigh, “We should make one for you.”

Bucky barks out a laugh, “I don't need one. There aren't a whole lot of things I haven't explored at least once.”

“Still, you've been so generous and accommodating,” he says with that flirty little grin that makes Bucky's blood run hot. “It would be churlish not to return the favor. Make one. Put whatever you want to do on there.”

Bucky smiles slow and filthy and Steve tightens his hand on his knee, “Whatever I want to do?”

“Whatever you want.”


Bucky makes a chart. He only has time between when he's able to finally pull himself away from Steve sleeping next to him and when Natasha is supposed to collect him for their job. He models it after the one he made for Steve, but he only puts one thing on it: in neat block letters he writes Steven G. Rogers.

He puts a big X in the loves it box and sticks it to the refrigerator for Steve to find in the morning.