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Bucky stood in the doorway to their apartment. He stared at the manila folder on their kitchen table (it was really their only table). He didn't have to open it to know that it contained Steve's death warrant. Helplessness overwhelmed him and before he could stop it, a sob escaped from Bucky, drawing Steve's attention where he'd been digging through their tiny fridge. "Buck? When did you get back? What are - "
"You dumb son of a bitch." Bucky took the last step to the table and slammed his fist onto the top of the folder. The pain that flared from the contact was welcomed.
"Jesus, Buck, why'd - " Steve stood behind him, a hand reaching out to take Bucky's fist so he could exam the damage. Bucky let him, because what else could he do? "Damn, you're bleeding." Bucky looked down where Steve scrutinized the split knuckles as he steered Bucky to sit on one of the hard cots, already stripped of its bedclothes. Bucky could only let him, too, the pain radiating from his hand telling him that he was awake, that he was living his own worst nightmare. Steve must have asked him something, because the look on his face was expectant.
"You don't make it easy, do you, Stevie?" he repeated.
"I don't - "
"Shut up, Rogers. If you're gonna go and get yourself shot by the goddamn Nazis, you're gonna listen to what I have to say." And Steve, the mouthiest mouth in all of Brooklyn, did. "Look here, punk, the only reason, the only fucking reason I enlisted is because it was my way of fighting when you couldn't. 'What would Steve Rogers do?' I asked myself, and you know what that answer is? It's fight for those who can't. I know I ain't coming back, but that was okay because you'd still be here, scrappin' in the back alleys, drawing pictures, and making a difference." Bucky moved quickly, grabbing Steve by the shirt before he talked himself out of it. He rested their foreheads together. "I coulda gone without telling you, without you knowing, and that'd been okay."
"Know what, Buck?" Some time must have passed then, because Steve's whispered question startled Bucky to the point where he jumped a little and he started to laugh at that, but his mirth turned into sadness, and tears started falling down his face.
"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, but you really are a dumb son of a bitch." If Steve was surprised when Bucky surged to his feet--hands fisted in his shirt to pull him up as well--he didn't show it. For a minute, neither of them said anything, just stared at one another, both breathing quickly. Bucky's hand had started to throb, but he ignored it. The moment, that moment with Steve, was what was important. He breathed out one last time, Steve's name a benediction. Bucky's eyes stayed open, and his grip on Steve's shirt stayed tight, but Bucky's press of lips on Steve's was gentle. That was when Steve's eyes widened in surprise, but rather than clock Bucky on the nose (like Bucky figured he'd do), his fingers scrabbled for the lapels of Bucky's uniform. It wasn't until Steve's eyes closed and his mouth opened, allowing Bucky his first taste of Steve's mouth, that Bucky's eyes closed and he could move his hands and arms to wrap around the smaller man, bring him closer. Bucky could feel his own cock press into his uniform trousers. He thrust his hips forward, not really meaning to, but Steve's answering groan is enough to encourage Bucky to move his hands again, this time to pick Steve up by his thighs so that he can wrap his legs around Bucky's waist.
Maybe Steve sensed the overwhelming want that caused Bucky to pick him up like that, because the indignant squawk of protest never came. No, instead, Steve groaned into Bucky's mouth and Bucky squeezed Steve's backside just a little bit harder before carefully laying Steve out on his cot, still made up for Steve's last night in the apartment. Bucky pushed that thought to the furthest corners of his mind and started fumbling with his uniform coat. "Goddammit."
"Buck?"
"Don't just lie there, pal, get naked." Steve didn't respond, nor did he move. For a horrifying moment, Bucky thought for sure that he'd pushed too far and had broken whatever this was between them. His hands stilled and he risked a look at Steve's face. "Steve, I'm sorry. We don't - "
"Race you."
"What?" The smirk on Steve's face was enough to goad Bucky into action. "Punk." Steve's fingers flew to the throat of his shirt and started undoing the buttons. Bucky's own fingers were already struggling before Steve's challenge (seriously, undressing in the heat of the moment should have been the most basic of skills Bucky learned in basic training, but now, watching bony, nimble-fingered Steve bite his lip as he met Bucky's wide-eyed, wide-mouthed look was enough to stall Bucky out completely. HIs hands fell to his sides as Steve shrugged out of his shirt before pulling his undershirt off. He lay flat on his cot now, bare-chested and flushed, toeing his shoes and socks off. He started to fiddle with his fly, but Bucky grabbed his foot, stopping him. The sight of a barefoot, shirtless Steve in naught but his trousers with the suspenders still attached was an image Bucky wanted to take with him through the war.
He drank Steve in, starting from the soles of his feet, to the pressed crease of his pants, the tenting in the crotch, the dark blonde strip of hair just below his navel, the dusky pink of his nipples, and finally Steve's face, eyes blown wide with arousal. Bucky squeezed his foot one more time before letting go, allowing Steve to undo his fly and shimmy out of his trousers and shorts in one go. It wasn't until Steve was back to reclining on his elbows that Bucky got his first look at Steve's cock. Sure, they'd seen each other's Johnson before, but not like that, stiff, red, and leaking. Bucky stood like that for awhile, unaware, really, of anything else at all, until Steve quietly broke the silence. "Bucky."
"Yeah, pal?"
"You lost." Truthfully, Bucky had completely forgotten about their race. He let his gaze travel the length of Steve's body again.
"No, pal, I'm pretty sure I won." He didn't let Steve answer, or, as was more likely the case, become embarrassed. Instead, he leaned down to kiss Steve, to let Steve help him remove all the pieces of his uniform until Bucky too was naked. Bucky nestled himself between Steve's legs and let their cocks slide against one another while he and Steve continued to plunder each one's mouth. They both were slick with sweat, Bucky's nose filled with the scent of Steve's arousal. Steve, whether by accident or design, raked his nails down Bucky's back. Bucky broke their kiss with a sharp exhalation of breath.
"Jesus, I'm sorry, Bucky, I didn't mean to - "
"You didn't." He rutted into Steve again, his Steve.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, now shut-up, Rogers."
"Shutting ' hmph." That time when Bucky sealed his mouth over the other man's mouth, Steve dug little arches in his still stinging back, Bucky's only response was to dot more pulses of fluid on Steve's skin.
Bucky would have gladly stayed between Steve's legs and kissed the daylights out of him if it weren't for the fact that actual daylight and--with it--Bucky's train ticket meant that their time was limited. Reluctantly, he broke their kiss again and waited until Steve's blown eyes focussed on him. "Steve."
"What?"
"Do you trust - "
"Don't be an idiot. Of course I do."
Bucky's mouth dried considerably. "Can I, I mean, would it be - "
Steve's hand closed over Bucky's mouth, effectively saving Bucky from himself, while his other hand reached beneath his pillow to produce a tub of Vaseline. Bucky's eyes opened further, but with Steve's hand still covering his mouth, he couldn't say anything. "You'll need this. And, I think it would be, you know, uh, better? If you put your mouth on me." Steve's eyes looked somewhere over Bucky's left shoulder, and Bucky couldn't have that. He licked Steve's hand. "Ew, gross. Jerk."
"Let me get this straight, pal. You've just handed me a tub of slick so I can stick my fingers and then my dick in your ass, not to mention demanded, yes, demanded, that I suck your Johnson at the same time, and you're grossed out because I licked your goddamn hand?"
"Shut up and suck me, Buck." That brought Bucky up short, caught in the midst of taking the lid off the tub.
"Steve, if we had the time, I'd make you tell me how the hell you know about this shit."
"How about you just be grateful I do so that we can get on with this? We can talk about this later." And, maybe Bucky just imagined it, but it seemed that Steve was thinking the same thing Bucky was. There would be no later.
Instead of saying any of that, though, Bucky smirked and brought a dollop of the Vaseline up. "Yeah, okay. Pushy punk." Taking Steve's cock into his mouth, nuzzling his nose into the curls of hair there, was easily the best idea Bucky ever had. It was as though an ache he didn't know he had suddenly eased. He had to sit there, Steve's cock in his mouth, and just exist in that moment. Then, Steve's thighs squeezed together and Bucky resumed sucking Steve off, all the while circling Steve entrance, making Steve familiar with the idea of something being down there, in there. Steve, after his initial thrust of his hips when Bucky had started running the flat of his tongue on the underside of his dick, had dug his heels into the cot and held himself as still as possible. Bucky wanted to press his hand into his cock, keep himself from the overwhelming urge to thrust his cock into the mattress, wanted that friction, but he restrained his urge.
Bucky was losing himself in the rhythm of the suck and bob and the circle and tease when Steve grabbed the curls of his hair and tugged Bucky's head up. "St-stop - "
"Jesus!" Bucky pulled his hand away from Steve as quickly as he could. "I didn't mean to hurt you!"
"Jeeze, Buck, calm down. I'm not gonna break. I was trying to tell you to stop teasin' and get a move on."
"You're not hurt?" Steve rolled his eyes and knocked one of his knees into Bucky's side.
"Bucky, I had four of my own goddamn fingers in my ass this morning." Bucky's brain must have broken because there was no way that Steve, little innocent Steve, was saying what Bucky what he thought he was saying. No surprise when Steve rolled his eyes after Bucky said all that out loud. "Buck, does that look like a new jar to you?" Bucky shook his head. "Okay, soldier, pull it together." Bucky still just looked at him. "God, does the army know you're this thick?" Steve spread his legs wider, displaying his hole. "I've been wantin' this for a long time. Trust me when I tell you that I've been ready for you for awhile now, years, even. So, go ahead, and stick 'em in me."
After that, directions such as, "Yeah, crook your fingers and twist just a little - oh, god," were more a revelation than Bucky had bargained for, but then Bucky slid inside of him and came home for the first time in his life.
He held himself still as he kissed Steve again, and, miraculously, the mouthy bastard kept quiet, just kissed Bucky back until Bucky was the one who was impatient to move things along. The older man went slow at first, and not because he thought Steve couldn't take it, but because committing the look on Steve's face, the sound of his name from Steve's mouth, the weight on his shoulders from Steve's legs, and the slick warm slide on his cock from Steve's ass was far more important to Bucky than chasing his own release.
"Bucky," Steve bit his lip before continuing, "Jesus, you feel so, so good. I knew you would. God, known since I was fifteen and, oh, god, yes, right there."
"Steve, that mouth!"
"What about my mouth?"
"It's just, just..."
"What, Buck? What? Tell me about my mouth. Come on. I wanna hear what my mouth does to you."
"Fuck, Steve!"
"Hmmm... Does my mouth get you hot under the collar? Oh, you're not wearing a collar right now, so that can't be true. Do you think about my mouth on your Johnson, sucking you down, sucking you omph - "
"Steve, if you don't shut up right now, I ain't gonna last." Steve mumbled something, but Bucky just shook his head, left his hand clasped over Steve's mouth, and rolled his hips into Steve. Steve's moans were lost to Bucky's hand and Bucky continued to fuck into him slowly. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions, but Bucky was still afforded the exquisite sight of Steve's flush growing up his neck and into his face as Bucky moved the both of them.
It was the only kind of heaven Bucky felt he'd get, even if he didn't deserve any of this, but as much as Bucky wanted to make their night last, he felt his orgasm build. His head lolled forward. "So good, Steve, I ain't gonna last much longer." Steve's legs tightened and he mumbled again. Bucky moved his hand.
"Jerk."
"You got two hands; you coulda moved mine whenever you wanted."
"It's the principle. Now. Touch my cock. I wanna come when - Seriously, Bucky?" Bucky couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed, and, well, his muscles were too tensed, his orgasm too powerful for him to do much more than keep his heart beating. When he finally relaxed, Steve, completely unimpressed, was looking at him, eyebrow arched. Bucky huffed and pulled out of Steve, letting the other man's legs down.
"Hey, punk, I told you to keep your filthy mouth shut. It's not my fault you ain't got a lick of sense to listen to reason."
"Uh-huh. Well, is reason going to help a fella out, or are you just going to lie there and look stupid.?"
"Mouthy." Bucky kissed Steve and put his hand on Steve's dick. Steve's breath immediately hitched, his heart beat a quick thrum against his chest as Bucky worked him to completion. It wasn't more than a half dozen strokes before Steve bit down on Bucky's lip and arched his back, shooting his load to smear between their bellies.
Staring into Steve Rogers's eyes, Bucky felt like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world because he got to have this moment with Steve. And, if Bucky died tomorrow, he'd go out with a bloody lip from Steve's teeth and a brand on his heart from Steve's being. And, who knew? Maybe they'd both make it through the war, make it back to Brooklyn together. Or, and this was what buoyed Bucky on the long plane ride across the pond, maybe Steve'd wash out of basic, a little worse for the wear, sure, but at least he'd tried, and maybe he'd be satisfied with that.
It wasn't until Bucky was stowing his footlocker at his new barracks that he realized he hadn't told Steve he loved him.