Chapter Text
Sleep eludes Bucky as it does most nights, though tonight there was a valid reason: Steve. Bucky had tried his best to not look too shamefaced when he opened the door to see Steve standing there, skin glistening with sweat. Bucky had heard every damn sound that Steve and Natalia had made through the walls, and this time there was no ignoring it. He’d tried to bury his head in his pillows, tried drowning them out with the loud music Tony had filled his iPod with, but it was no good. He could still hear. Even if he couldn’t really, the sounds played in his head. Not Natalia’s, either.
It bothered him. Why am I paying more attention to Steve than the woman? That struck Bucky as a little odd. But those soft, panting moans edged their way into Bucky’s mind, shooting straight for his groin. He’d gotten up to get a cold shower, in hopes that that would put an end to his sudden arousal. But no matter how cold the water was, nothing changed and he was still harder than he’d been in years. Before long, Bucky had cranked the heat back up and took himself in hand, stroking in quick tugs, biting down on his lip. He closed his eyes as the water poured over his skin, seeing blue eyes and blond hair looking up at him from the tile floor, imagining the soft wet heat of a mouth wrapping around his dick.
It wasn’t until after he’d come with a soft whimper that he realized the face he’d been picturing was Steve’s.
That’s when Steve had knocked on the bathroom door, wanting to get inside to clean up after his romp with Natalia. He didn’t even bother drying off, just wrapped a towel around his hips, and headed for his room. This is where he finds himself now, several hours later with the sun starting to creep up on the horizon.
Natalia had left again while Steve was showering, and Bucky hears the disbelieving laugh that left his friends mouth in the next room, before he goes to sleep. Bucky feels the same tug at his heart that he’d felt during his last hypnosis session.
Fuck. Bucky thinks, dragging a hand down his face as he stares at the ceiling. I remember this feeling now. I’ve developed a crush. On Steve. What the hell!? It’s a frustrating thought. He can’t remember ever feeling this way towards a man before, even back before the war, before the fall. Sure, there’d always been gay people, but back then it was far less open than it was today. Not to mention, the few people that were a little too blatant about their preference were arrested for public indecency, or beaten to death. Bucky shudders. If he’d never felt like this towards Steve before, why was he feeling it now? Was it because Steve had been so kind to him these past few months? Was it because Steve was the one person he spent more time with than anyone else? Maybe it was because Bucky couldn’t really remember what friendship feels like, and he was just confusing his feelings. He stares out his window as the sun comes up, mulling it all over in his head when he hears movement in the next room. Bucky glances at the clock. Five in the morning, Steve’s getting ready to go for his run. He thinks with a small smile.
As predicated by Bucky, Steve leaves shortly after sunrise for his morning job with Sam, and Bucky gets up. Whatever this stupid feeling in his chest was, it needed to go away, and soon. If he was to live with Steve again, he couldn’t feel like this. He couldn’t walk around the apartment, knowing full well that Steve was the subject of all his personal fantasies. It wasn’t right. Bucky paces the hallway in his borrowed jogging pants and little else, arms folded over his chest as he tries to figure out how to get past this. Back before the war, he’d just sleep with whoever it was that held his attention at that point. That usually worked. But there was no way in hell that he was sleeping with Steve. Steve would probably ship him off to Fury for even suggesting it. Not to mention Natalia was still in the picture.
But there had been that fight. The two had been shouting and glaring daggers at each other the previous afternoon when he’d come back from his session with Dr. King. What did that mean? Obviously, whatever the issue was, they’d gotten over it enough to fuck each other senseless. Bucky shudders as those same sounds echo in his head.
Steve returns exactly one hour later. His unintentionally skin-tight pale blue S.H.I.E.L.D tee is hardly damp, and his track pants hang off his hips in the most alluring way. It was all Bucky could do to keep from drooling. “Morning!” Steve says with a pleasant smile. “Sleep ok?”
Bucky shrugs. “Not really.” He fixes Steve with a pointed look, watching as the other man’s face flushes a light pink.
He laughs quietly and scratches at the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be.” Bucky replies, digging in the cupboard for two coffee mugs. “At least someone around here’s getting laid.”
Steve remains silent for a second, and Bucky can feel those intense blue eyes on the back of his head. He manages to suppress a shudder while he pours himself some coffee, as well as one for Steve. “Are you up for heading to the gym later?” Steve asks, as he takes his cup from Bucky’s hand. “Sam’s got some training on the go this morning, so I’ll go with you if you want.”
“Nah, I’ve got a session with Dr. King.” Bucky says regretfully. He’d very much like to hit the gym with Steve, perhaps get some sparring in. He did so love it when they would spar; especially when Steve would tackle him to the ground, and pin him there with his massive body weight. Bucky could still feel the way the muscles in Steve’s warm arm contracted as he squeezed it around his throat, feel the solid weight of Steve’s knee in the small of his back, while the other pinned his metallic arm to the mats. He shudders with the pleasure he’d felt then, and quickly removes his eyes from Steve’s body.
“Again?” Steve asks. “Didn’t you just have one yesterday?”
Bucky shrugs. “The faster I can get through this, the faster I can get Fury to see that I’m not going to kill all of you and let me start training for real.” He replies nonchalantly over his coffee cup. It was the truth. Not long after his first session with Dr. King, Tony had approached him while making an adjustment to his arm, that perhaps once he got himself in order, he’d join the rest in the field. Despite Nick Fury not liking Bucky on the principal that well, The Winter Soldier had shot him, but if Tony pulled the right strings, Bucky could be one of The Avengers in no time.
Bucky had been apprehensive, but after listening to Tony go on and on about training, and technology that he’d come up with to monitor Bucky while in the field, he began to like the idea little more. But before he could even begin the real training Tony had in the works, Bucky needed to figure himself out. In the meantime, Tony had set to work on a new set of combat gear for him, made from stronger, more pliable material than the leather-and-Kevlar Hydra had given him. The prototype suit was hanging in his closet already.
The blond nods and sips his own coffee, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “How’s that going anyway? Didn’t really get a chance to ask you about it yesterday.”
Bucky leans back against the counter, eyes looking everywhere but Steve, who was watching him like a hawk. “It’s good, I guess.” Bucky tells him. “A lot of stuff is coming back, which is a huge plus. I still have a lot of gaps though. Lots of shit that doesn’t make sense yet.” He doesn’t elaborate on the fact that what gets to him most is why he can’t figure out why he’s developed this random crush on Steve. He forgets to mention that every time he goes into hypnosis and he thinks of Steve or their past life, he feels both elated and defeated at once, and drives him crazy.
“You’ll get it back, pal.” Steve says with his usual warm smile, before getting up to get ready for the rest of his day. He places a hand casually on Bucky’s shoulder as he passes by, his hand squeezing gently. It’s a friendly gesture, but even so, it sends a chill through him. As Steve disappears to change into his uniform for whatever S.H.I.E.L.D meeting he has, Bucky sighs and goes to get dressed himself.
Natalia had taken him shopping several days ago, and even that had nearly sent him into a panic attack. But it had been a rewarding day. Several new pairs of jeans filled a previously empty drawer and a pile of new t-shirts filled another. He picks out one with the logo of a band — Judas Priest — that Tony had gotten him into on the front, and a dark pair of what Natalia had called ’slim fit’ jeans. They hugged his legs a little tighter than he was used to, but he liked the way they looked when they were tucked inside his loosely tied combat boots. Natalia had said he looked like a metalhead (whatever that means) with his long hair and constant broody stare.
Steve is getting ready to leave when Bucky finishes dressing and gives him a small smile. Bucky feels his heart contract in an uncomfortable way as he returns it as best he can. As Steve heads off, Bucky scolds himself for being so jittery.
His appointment with Dr. King creeps up on him later that afternoon and Bucky finds himself once again on his back on her couch, counting back from ten with his eyes closed. This time it takes a while before the swirling colours behind his eyes materialize and he sees the scene before him.
“Where are you, James?” Dr. King is asking.
I’m on the edge of a cliff with the Howling Commandos. We’re waiting for a train carrying Dr. Zola. We’ve been ordered to capture him and take him back to base. Steve’s plan is to zip-line onto the train when it passes between the mountains. I make a joke about it being payback for making him ride The Cyclone at Coney Island that made him throw up. He laughs. But the train is coming, and we have to go. We all fall out; Steve first, than me, then the others… Just like it always is. Getting on the train is almost too easy, and we see why. Gunmen separate me and Steve, trap him in a room with someone carrying one of Zola’s super-weapons. I hold my own for a while; take down two of the men shooting at me, until I’m out of ammo. Close quarters, I don’t do so hot. Steve has taken down his opponent and tosses me his pistol, and I finish off the last gunman with Steve’s help.
Bucky feels his chest tighten and shifts uncomfortably on the couch, his right hand tugging at the neck of his shirt. “It’s all right, James. We’re right here.” Dr. King says softly in his ear. “Keep going, you’re doing fine.”
But the guy Steve took down didn’t stay down. He fired another blast and Steve manages to protect us both behind his shield, and deflects the ray. It takes out the side of the train. We’re both thrown back by the force of it and Steve’s shield falls beside me. So I pick it up to try and cover Steve and start shooting at the Hydra guard.
His breathing picks up, and Bucky feels himself start to sweat. He knows what this is. This is the day he died. Why is he remembering this? He starts to panic a little, but he feels a slight, warm hand slide into his, squeezing, grounding him. “What’s happening now?” Dr. King asks.
I’m firing round after round but it’s not doing anything to the walking weapon. They just keep bouncing off. But he charges his weapon again and fires at me. I’m not strong like Steve, and the force if blows me off my feet. I drop Steve’s shield and somehow catch onto a railing that’s attached to the blown out side of the train. Oh god, I’m going to die. I can’t pull myself up, there’s nothing to catch my feet on. I don’t want to die! There’s something I still need to tell Steve! I can’t die yet! He has to know!
He’s writhing on the couch, unable to wake up from this nightmare. He hadn’t seen this day in years. It had been wiped from his memory. But he remembers what happens now, it’s clear. Bruce has both his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, holding him down. He’s sweating, feels it run down his back, but he still can’t wake up. Tears are running down the corners of his closed eyes.
Steve is trying to reach me, but he can’t get close enough. There’s no time. I can’t hold on, and I feel the railing start to give way. Steve is frantic, trying to stretch his hand closer so I can take it, but he can’t do it. I can’t reach. The railing snaps free and I’m falling. Oh god I’m falling, and screaming. I see Steve’s helpless face as I fall, and he screams out to me, but it’s too late. I fell. I died. And I never got to tell Steve that I love him.
Bucky comes to with a gasp, only to find himself on the floor of the office. His chest is still heaving with each breath, and his whole body is drenched with sweat. “I never got to tell Steve I loved him.” Bucky repeats, his voice small and distant, straggled through the tears that pour down his face. He sits up and pulls his knees to his chest and buries his face, sobbing harder than he thought possible.
It all made sense; the urge to find Steve all those months ago before he’d been brought to Stark Tower, the tugging in his chest at the earlier memories, the giddy feeling when Steve smiled at him, the only being able to hear Steve’s pleasured moans. It wasn’t just a crush. He’d been in love with Steve back then. He’d always loved Steve, still did even now. And Hydra had made him forget it. Bucky feels Bruce’s arm slide around his shoulders as the other man sits on the carpeted floor beside him, his hand rubbing Bucky’s shoulder comfortingly. Bucky leans into him, unable to reign himself back in, get himself under control. He loved Steve with his entire heart, and he’d never gotten the chance to let him know.
He isn’t sure how long Bruce sits beside him, letting him get all his emotions out, or how long Dr. King sits at his other side, telling him how big a breakthrough this is. All he knows is that he can’t go back and look at Steve right now, not when he knows what he knows now. Pain floods through him. Steve had Natalia now, and no matter how much Bucky loved him, Steve would never be his. He was positive that even if he DID tell Steve what he felt, that Steve would reject him; he wasn’t like that. He wasn’t a queer. Captain America wasn’t allowed to be a queer.
Bucky feels his throat go raw, and his tears run dry some time later and he lifts his head. Bruce gives him a saddened smile and passes him a tissue. “Go back to the apartment, James. Take a break. We don’t need to do any more today.” Bruce says, helping Bucky to his feet.
Bucky just nods, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. He doesn’t have the energy to speak right now, so he just leaves the office. His shoulders are slumped even more than normal as he walks back to the elevator. Jarvis programs the apartment level. Steve is already back from his meeting and is lounging on the couch, reading a book that he’s got propped up on the arm of the couch beside him. “Hey Buck.” Steve says with a warm smile, looking over the back of the couch. “Didn’t expect you back so soon, those sessions usually go on for hours. How’d it go?”
“Not a good time, Steve.” Bucky mutters, dragging his feet as he moves lifelessly though the hallway to his own bedroom. Steve doesn’t follow, but Bucky can already feel his concern. And that alone sends a stab through his heart as he flops into a useless heap on his bed.
He stares off into space, mind reeling. What was he supposed to do with this information? A crush was bad enough, those tended to just go away, but to be in love with someone? Bucky curls in on himself and closes his eyes. His heart hurts so badly the rest of his body starts to follow suit; head pounding, muscles aching for no reason. Maybe I could just sleep this away? He thinks. Maybe I was better off with Hydra wiping my memories. At least I didn’t have to feel this pain. Jesus, I’d rather have them welding my arm to my shoulder with no anaesthetic than keep feeling like this.
But he can’t turn it off. He doesn’t know how.
Voices filter in from the kitchen. Steve is talking with Natalia again, this time not about one another. “I dunno what to tell you, Steve.” Natalia’s voice says gently. “Maybe he just had a bad recall again.”
“The last time that happened, he didn’t talk to anyone for a month!” Steve replies. He sounds worried, and that just makes Bucky’s heart hurt more. “He was just starting to come around, Nat. I was just starting to get him back.”
“I know, baby.” Natalia says, and that throws Bucky. Pet names were never her style. “Maybe he just wants some time alone? I mean, we have been kinda crowding him lately. I took him out one day, Pepper the next…”
He can hear Steve sigh, and he slap of his hands against his legs. “It didn’t seem like that.” Steve says. “He didn’t even look at me, just walked away like I’d done something wrong. What’d I do wrong, Nat?”
They go on talking about him for a while, and Bucky can’t take it. He hates knowing that Steve is worried about him like that, but at the same time he can’t very well just go out there and explain what exactly was wrong. He hates this entire situation. Why couldn’t I just leave all this alone? Why did I have to know? Why did I have to remember that day? He thinks angrily.
Day passes into night, and Steve and Natalia have lapsed into silence. Bucky can hear the television in the background. Eventually it turns off, and he hears two sets of footsteps move down the hall to Steve’s room. Bucky rolls his eyes, knowing that when they go to bed, sleeping is not on the menu. It takes no time before he can hear Natalia’s soft sighing and Steve’s softer words. He can’t deal with this, not tonight.
But instead of the same state of arousal hitting him like a freight train as it had the night before, Bucky finds anger bubbling up in his chest. Anger because Natalia doesn’t treat Steve the way he should be treated. Anger because Bucky was never going to be able to tell Steve how he feels, anger at the fact that he’d never told Steve what he felt all those years ago and most of all, anger because he’d never know. He can’t sit here and listen to the couple in the other room going at it again. So he drags himself from the bed and changes.
A pair of fitted black pants that echo the ones The Winter Soldier had worn hang in the back of his closet. The knees are reinforced with some kind of extra strength material, and the pockets are much less bulky than his previous pair. With it hangs a new utility belt with multiple holsters for weapons of all kinds that will strap around his thighs when worn. A vest made of some kind of lightweight, though somehow bulletproof material sits with it, and a brand new pair of boots lay on his closet floor. Attached to the belt is a mask and goggles, much like the set he’d had before he lost on the bridge when he’d been sent to kill Steve. It sends a chill through him, seeing a more modern version of his old self staring at him from his closet. The gear had been a gift from Tony, who said that his old stuff was too damaged to even consider repairing. What lay before him was the prototype to his new uniform with S.H.I.E.L.D.
Might as well at least get the feel for this new gear if I’m going in the field with it eventually. He thinks as he dons everything but the vest and mask, opting instead for a plain black tank that hugs his body tightly. With his hair tied off his face, Bucky feels that he almost looks too much like The Soldier did. Maybe I should just cut it all off. Bucky thinks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Start over.
As an afterthought, Bucky slides open the top drawer of his dresser where a set of training knives sit. They’re only plastic and hard rubber, but they still carry the same weight that the combat blades had. He slips them into the four holsters on his belt and heads out of his bedroom. Steve and Natalia are too busy with each other to hear him leave, and he slips from the apartment in silence.
“Good evening, Sargent Barnes.” Jarvis says politely as the doors of the elevator slide shut. “Where is it you are looking to go?”
“The gym.” Bucky almost snaps.
“Of course, sir.”
The elevator moves then, and Bucky close his eyes. His feelings towards Steve had to be buried, buried so deep that they’d never resurface and risk putting their friendship at risk. Bucky sighs when the elevator doors slide open again when he reaches the gym floor and exists. “Can we get some music going, Jarvis?”
“Certainly sir. Anything in particular?” Jarvis asks.
“Whatever Tony had put onto that thing he gave me.”
“Your iPod sir?”
“Yeah, that thing. Whatever’s on that is good.” Bucky strides through the gym to where to punching bags and other boxing equipment sits. He grabs a jump rope from the stand and wraps an end around both hands, spinning the rope to the fast beat on the heavy song that starts playing over the sound system. Bucky knows he needs to at least warm up some before he goes straight for the heavy bags, needs to get his heart rate up like Sam taught him.
The music is extremely aggressive, and Bucky instantly loves it. The vocalist was a woman, though her scream sounded more masculine than most men. It was deep and raw, but still completely legible. The guitarists are incredibly technical and precise, and the drums are heavy and loud. Jarvis tells him the band is called Arch Enemy, and Bucky makes a mental note to listen to more of them later.
He keeps up a constant flow of jumping rope for nearly three full songs before his knees start to give out. So he drops it and hits the mat. He spreads his feet shoulder width apart and places his left arm behind his back, with his right centred at his chest. He sets a steady pace of push-ups, going easily through fifty before is arm starts to wobble even a little bit. Funny. He thinks as he burns through another fifty with no issue. Back in basic training, twenty left me a little winded. He smirks to himself as the music changes to another band.
Like the first, the musical side is incredibly technical and heavy, and the vocalist is as precise with his voice as he is with his lyrics. They’re shockingly well written for the genre, Bucky notes as he flips from his stomach to his back. Bucky feels a small sneer of a smile grace his lips as he listens to the song, doing countless crunches until his abdominals burn. A light sweat is starting to grace his skin, and he starts to feel good. He almost forgets about the reason he’s found himself in here so late, and instead focuses on the way his muscles start to tingle in that pleasant, almost exerted way. As the next song starts, Bucky flips himself up from the mat and pulls a pair of fingerless leather gloves from the back of his belt, strapping them tight around is wrists. He throws a few punches at one of the heavy bags designed with Steve’s strength in mind, head nodding a little in time with the song playing.
Blank stares from broken men
So withered from the poisons they can't remember when
There were once honest reasons.
It's all a lie, it died 100,000 miles ago.
Pretending I'm still here.
Justify what I've become, sanctify what I've become.
Amazing disgrace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.
Better lost if this is found, best blinded never to see.
The race to save face, nothing now is what we meant it to be.
Pretending I'm still here.
It's a system now, intertwined.
Take your place in the line to be ground by the gears of the masterpiece.
Betrayal.
Justify what I've become, sanctify what I've become.
Suffered consequence
It's been so long since any piece of this made any kind of sense.
You anoint the king, I'll burn everything down to ashes.
You giveth, I taketh away.
It's a system now, intertwined.
Take your place in the line to be ground by the gears of the masterpiece.
Betrayal.
Seeing that the bag won’t move when he puts even a little effort in, Bucky starts to hit it harder, leaving all his frustrations and emotions behind with each punch.
The music changes again to a different band. This one is a little different, Bucky thinks as the first twenty-seconds of the song just sounds like noise. But as the actual melody kicks in, with the harsh, angry sound of the vocalists scream, Bucky finds himself really enjoying it in the moment. “Jarvis, keep this singer on. I like it.” Jarvis does as asked and the music gets louder. He throws a hard combo at the bag, adding his elbows and knees to his movements. By the second chorus, Bucky finds himself muttering the words ‘People Equal Shit’ along with the singer.
He stops hitting for a second, jumping in place, shaking the loose strands of hair from his eyes and shaking out his right hand before settling into a low combat stance. He reaches into the right holster where he stored one of his training knives and unclips it, spinning it around in his fingers before clenching it in his fist. Bucky adds slashes and jabs with the knife to his motions, concentrating on changing hands as fast as he can to distract the opponent that was the punching bag.
Bucky had completely forgotten about Steve and Natalia by now, his mind closed off to everything but the complex manoeuvres he executed perfectly. It had been years since he’d trained this hard. Even with Sam and Steve and their weekly schedule, Bucky never felt this good while in the gym. Between the music getting him riled up, and the fact he can actually push himself past his limits for a change, Bucky feels better than ever.
It isn’t until the song changes again that he slows down. It’s not one he’s familiar with, but the opening melody is slow and sad. The same singer as the previous songs takes a different tone to his voice, and it’s filled with a hundred emotions at once.
Bury all your secrets in my skin
Come away with innocence, and leave me with my sins
The air around me still feels like a cage
And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again
Bucky pauses for a moment to listen, but shakes off the irritating brush of emotion that touches his mind. He turns back to the punching bag and hit it a few more times, though not half as focused as he had been.
So if you love me, let me go.
And run away before I know.
My heart is just too dark to care.
I can't destroy what isn't there.
Deliver me into my fate
If I'm alone I cannot hate
I don't deserve to have you
My smile was taken long ago
If I can change I hope I never know
Bucky’s punch misses and he stumbles a little bit while listening closer to the lyrics. He wants to tell Jarvis to change it, because the song is ruining his momentum, but something stops him from doing so. The same tightness and weight from the day before presses down on his chest, and thoughts of Steve surge back.
I still press your letters to my lips
And cherish them in parts of me that savour every kiss
I couldn't face a life without your lights
But all of that was ripped apart when you refused to fight
There’s a burning in the back of Bucky’s eyes as he keeps on listening, his hands falling to his sides. His throat tightens and he swallows thickly to clear it, but it won’t go. His vision blurs for a moment before clearing as a heavy tear splashes to the mat below his feet.
So save your breath, I will not care.
I think I made it very clear.
You couldn't hate enough to love.
Is that supposed to be enough?
I only wish you weren't my friend.
Then I could hurt you in the end.
I never claimed to be a saint
Ooh, my own was banished long ago
It took the death of hope to let you go
By now his legs stop supporting him and Bucky sags to the floor, back against the punching bag as the last verse of the song plays over the speakers. He hangs his head, pushing the tear off his face, only for its place to be taken by another.
So break yourself against my stones
And spit your pity in my soul
You never needed any help
You sold me out to save yourself
And I won't listen to your shame
You ran away - you're all the same
Angels lie to keep control
Ooh, my love was punished long ago
If you still care, don't ever let me know
If you still care, don't ever let me know
The song ends, but Bucky still can’t pick himself up off the floor. He tells Jarvis to cut the music, and sits in silence. He aches everywhere, and not from the training. His whole body feels heavier than it should, despite his left arm being composed entirely of steel. The red clock over the mirror and behind the bags reads nearly two in the morning. Natalia and Steve must be finished by now. Bucky thinks, eventually dragging himself to his feet. He’s exhausted and wants to sleep, if his mind will let him, that is.
By the time he gets back to the apartment, he’s already unlatched the belt and holsters from around his waist and thighs, and starts pulling his shirt off as he steps inside. The first sound that meets his ears is Steve’s low, breathy moans. Bucky just huffs and tosses his belongings in on his bed before shuffling quietly to the bathroom for a quick shower before bed. He passes Steve’s room and unintentionally peeks in through the small crack that’s left open.
Steve is half-sitting half-lying against the headboard of his bed, with Natalia straddling his lap. Her head is tossed back, both eyes closed and a pleasured smile on her lips, while her hips roll slowly and sensually against Steve’s. His eyes are focused only on her, hands resting on her hips, guiding her along. Bucky can see the pleasured, loving expression that crosses Steve’s face as he looks at the woman, and it sends a sharp pain through his heart. Bucky rips his eyes from the scene before him and heads off to get his shower.
The steamy water runs down his skin and soaks his hair as he hangs his head under the spray, hoping to drown his sorrows as he stands there. But it doesn’t help. His mind is filled with images of Steve, coupled with the sounds he’d heard over the past number of days, and it’s maddening. He shouldn’t be getting hard thinking about his friend. But he is, and it’s insane. Bucky knows there’s no ignoring it either; especially not while those two were still going strong in the bedroom. He feels himself growing harder the more he thinks about Steve, the longer the pictures the way those perfect lips part each time he sighs.
Without thinking, his right hand runs down his abdomen, then wraps around his cock, stroking in long, slow pulls that make him just that much harder. With his eyes closed, Bucky can’t help but fantasize…
They’re together in his bedroom, stripped naked and already sweating. The room smells like sex, and Bucky loves it. He’s on his back, legs propped up and knees spread wide as Steve settles between his thighs. Their mouths come together in a long, slow kiss that seems more practiced than it is, with Steve’s hand is sliding between their bodies amidst it all. It’s warm and slightly callused as it wraps around Bucky, jerking him off slow to make the pleasure last. Bucky reaches down and repays the favour. Steve is impressive in terms of size, apparently another plus of Erskine’s serum he thinks, before Steve’s mouth moves to his jawline, then his neck.
Bucky can hardly stifle a moan, his hand working a little faster now. He bites down on his lip and braces his left hand against the tile wall, his right thumb circling the head of his cock a few times before he goes back to stroking.
Steve’s pressing a trail of hot kisses down his body, teeth nipping at his hipbones before his mouth joins his hand on Bucky’s cock. Bucky groans, both his hands fisting in the soft cotton sheets on the bed. Steve’s mouth is hot and wet as it slides up and down around him, his tongue circling in downright sinful ways. He gives a harder suck and Bucky has to deliberately concentrate on not thrusting up, not choking Steve with his dick. But Steve just laughs, sending vibrations through his body that make pleasure coil at the base of his spine.
Bucky’s mouth falls open as the water continues to pour down on him. The heat makes his skin that much more sensitive, and the way his hand feels stroking himself is getting to the point where it almost feels too good. His breath comes in short gasps now.
He’s still on his back as Steve hovers above him, big blue eyes blown wide, perfect lips twisting into a devious, shit-eating grin. He hears the tell-tale click of the cap of a bottle of lubricant, then feels a cool, slick finger slide between his cheeks. Bucky huffs out a groan as Steve’s finger circles his hole before slowly pushing inside. It’s a small stretch, but pleasant. Steve’s mouth is on his, drinking down the soft whimpers that leave Bucky’s throat. A second finger joins the first, and Bucky whines in pleasure, his right hand reaching up to fist in Steve’s hair, his left still clutching at the sheets. Steve just grins that same grin, fucking his fingers inside slowly, intentionally grazing his prostate each time.
“Goddammit, Steve…” Bucky breathes, stroking himself faster. He can feel the pressure in his gut, the tug at the base of his spine. He whimpers involuntarily.
Steve’s moved his hand, leaving Bucky feeling empty and open and needy. But he watches a Steve slicks himself up, stroking his own cock in a lube-covered hand, watching Bucky watch him. He’s biting down on one go those perfect lips and Bucky can hardly stand it. But then he’s leaning down again, hitching Bucky’s legs back just a bit before he presses his tip at Bucky’s hole. Steve’s lips capture his as he pushes inside, slow and careful. The stretch is considerable, but Bucky can deal. Steve takes his time and is soon buried inside Bucky, and it’s the most incredible feeling.
A low groan leaves his lips as he tightens his grip on his cock. He’s so close now it hurts.
Steve is fucking into him hard and fast, panting and gasping for air. Bucky moans, his fingers dragging down Steve’s shoulders as Steve’s cock inside him constantly grazes against his prostate, making him shudder. “Come for me, Buck.” Steve murmurs low in his ear, teeth nipping at its lobe. “Come for me…”
With a moan, Bucky comes hard, hot spurts running down his fist as he strokes himself through it. Hot water washes everything down the drain, and Bucky takes a minute to catch his breath. He feels wrong, thinking about Steve that way, but at the same time, he hadn’t come so hard in years. It makes him feel dirty.
Bucky finishes cleaning himself up and leaves the bathroom, dressing in a pair of black sweats that he’d left in there the night before. Steve and Natalia have finally finished up, and Bucky moves silently through the hallway to get something to drink before bed. He’s gulping down water when he hears movement coming from Steve’s room. She’s leaving him again!? Bucky thinks in disbelief, listening to the way she hurriedly pulls her clothing back on. They fought about this yesterday, and she’s still going to keep leaving? Steve deserves much better than this. She can’t keep hurting my friend. Bucky feels anger well up in him again, and settle over his features.
His eyes go cold and dead, mouth sets into a hard line as he counts her paces. At five, he lays his glass silently on the counter. At seven his now free hand is reaching for a knife in the block on the counter. At ten, his arm retracts, ready to fire the missile, and at fifteen, he throws the blade. It embeds itself in the wall, millimetres from Natalia’s face, and the woman stares at it as it wobbles. Her eyes dart to the side and she spots him, before she rips the knife from the drywall. “What are you doing, James?” Natasha asks in a soft tone. Bucky thinks it’s cute that she thinks Steve is sleeping in the room down the hall. Bucky knows he isn’t, he’s still awake, and too pissed off that she’s leaving him again to sleep. “You don’t want to fight me.”
“No,” Bucky replies, his voice low and dangerous. Intimidating, like the Winter Soldier’s had been. “But if you hurt him, I will make sure your death is as slow and as painful as physically possible.”
Natalia raises an eyebrow and moves slowly into the kitchen. “What are you talking about?” She asks coyly, slipping the knife back into the block beside Bucky.
“This whole leaving in the middle of the night? That doesn’t work with Steve. You can’t play with him like this. Unlike you, he’s got feelings. Unlike you, he has a heart.” Bucky spits, his voice still low, so Steve won’t hear.
The woman gives him a knowing smirk and scoffs. “If I remember correctly, you were one of those who taught me that having a heart would get me killed.” She almost purrs, her finger trailing down Bucky’s still naked chest. Natalia’s eyes have gone dark now as they look up into his. “I think it was right around the time when the tables were turned, and I was fucking your brains out.
Bucky’s spine stiffens and he bats her hand away. “That was then. The Red Room was a different animal. I was a different animal.” He fixes her with a deadly glare and steps closer, looming over her. “And I swear to every god that there is that if you hurt Steve — the one good person left — I will be the one who kills you. If you hurt him, I will hunt you down. And you know I can, because I trained You.”
“Who says I’m hurting anyone?” Natalia asks, stepping back. She leans against the counter to steady herself as she slides her feet into her stiletto heeled boots, zipping them up her slender, deadly legs.
“I know Steve well enough to know when he’s suffering. I know Steve well enough to see the pain in his eyes. And I damn well know him enough to know that he’ll never talk about the way he feels, even if it eats him alive. So if you want him, have him. If you don’t, then let him go. Stop fucking stringing him along.” He hisses the last sentence and Natalia laughs lowly.
“Why James, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love with Steve yourself.” Natalia chides with a smirk. Bucky’s eyes darken over even more and before he can get another word in she turns to leave again.
“If you walk out that door, don’t dare come back, or it’s the last thing you do.” Bucky snarls.
But it does no good; she pushes the open door button on the elevator and slips inside. The heavy steel doors slide shut and she’s gone. Bucky can already hear Steve shuffling around in his room, doing his best to keep himself together. Steve is trying to be strong, and Bucky knows it’s for his sake, not Steve’s own. But Bucky wants nothing more than to go into that bedroom and wrap his arms — well, maybe just the flesh one — around Steve and tell him that he doesn’t need Natalia, that she’s never going to be right for him. Bucky longs to press his lips to Steve’s temple and tell him that no one could ever love Steve the way he does, the way he always has.
Steve emerges from the bedroom with his shoulders hunched, hair still a mess in nothing but a pair of blue plaid pyjama pants. “She’s gone, isn’t she?” He asks. Their eyes meet and Bucky swears there are already tears forming in those bright, sky-blue eyes.
Bucky nods, heart breaking at the defeat and intense vulnerability in Steve’s usually so strong voice. “Yeah pal, she’s gone. I’m sorry.” Steve nods once and turns to go back to bed. “You gonna be ok? Need anything?”
“Nah, Buck. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” Steve replies. But Bucky can hear the way his voice cracks in the middle, and it rips him apart.
“I’m just down the hall, if you need someone to talk to.” Bucky calls. Steve just nods and goes back into his room, locking his door when it’s shut. Bucky walks down the hall after him but doesn’t push to talk, just silently slides to the floor with his back against Steve’s door, listening to make sure everything is ok. He can hear the way Steve cough and tries to make it seem like he’s clearing his throat, hears the way he sniffs. Bucky knows that Steve is so far away from ok that Steve doesn’t even know what the term means anymore. But instead of barging in and making things worse, Bucky sits silently there on the floor like Steve had done for him so many times before, and keeps an ear out.
Just in case Steve needs him…Like he needs Steve.