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The thing Bucky had learned over their months of working together was that Helmut Zemo never did anything half-assed.
If he was going to have a drink at the end of the night then he was going to drink something that cost more than Bucky’s monthly rent, and he was going to drink it until he was wasted on the couch, humming sokovian melodies until he slipped into a silent sleep.
If he was going to hunt down a HYDRA cell, then he was going to track them down to the very last man, through any city and state and back alley bunker. And he was going to kill them all slowly, very slowly, so that they had plenty of time to regret their life choices before their life ultimately ended.
And if he was going to kiss you… well… he was going to kiss you like a lover, with his tongue slipping into your mouth and his hands grabbing at you like a lifeline.
It almost overwhelmed Bucky when it happened. One moment they were sweaty and bloody and half-collapsing back into the shitty motel room they had been using as a safe house all week, bone tired from another thankless day of HYDRA hunting, the next moment the baron was practically on top of him.
The man was lucky Bucky didn’t immediately assume it was some sort of attack. Especially since the baron went in immediately for his throat, licking and nipping at it like some sort of teething puppy.
Bucky barely had a moment to ask what the fuck was happening before Zemo was kissing him, earnest as always, tongue slipping between his lips, forcing his mouth open even wider.
Yeah, Bucky could have stopped him. He probably should have stopped him, seeing as the man was technically his parolee and there had to be some sort of law about these kinds of things. Not to mention the fact that Zemo was kissing him, of all people. Their relationship was tenuous at best. In Bucky’s mind, they had a mutual agreement not to kill each other for the time being. This was definitely going to fuck that up.
Then again, when was the last time someone had kissed Bucky like that?
Even in his early years, before the war, when he was a self-proclaimed Don Juan. He’d tumbled the sheets with plenty of broads— and a few gents when the opportunity arose— but none had acted upon him with such a ferocity that it made his insides burn. The way Zemo grabbed at him, tugging at his clothes, desperately trying to remove them, and the way his mouth moved against Bucky’s own; pertinent and feral, like he needed to swallow him whole.
Bucky couldn’t deny that it turned him the fuck on, especially since the evidence of that was already pressing urgently against his tac pants. Zemo absolutely knew. The well-pleased groan that rumbled through the Sokovian's chest when one of his wandering hands brushed over Bucky’s front was all Bucky needed to hear to know that he wasn't fooling anyone. He wanted this just as badly as Zemo did.
So he let it happen.
He let Zemo’s desperate tugs and prods push him to the grimy motel room wall until he was backed flat against it with the heels of his boots knocking against the baseboard, looking down in bewilderment as the other man tugged his belt noisily through the loops of his pants. Efficient as always, Zemo didn’t waste any time getting Bucky’s cock out. One of his hands— still dusted with explosive powder from their impromptu detonation of a HYDRA base— wrapped around Bucky’s pink cock and squeezed until the super soldier saw stars. His other hand worked Bucky’s pants—stashed knives, holstered guns, boxer briefs and all— off his hips until they slid to a rumpled pile at his boots.
Bucky may have been so riled up that his cock was actively dripping onto Zemo’s wrist, but he was still a man prone to embarrassment, and being half-naked and pressed against a wall with his dick in a vice grip while the baron was still wearing a goddamn turtleneck was enough to make him blush all over.
“Can I see you?” He blurted out, sounding more naive than he intended. To make matters worse, his thighs had started twitching and shaking with every sensuous touch from the baron’s skilled hand, which he was sure made him look like a shivering lamb in a wolf’s sights. The resulting smirk that spread across Zemo’s lips didn't help either.
The baron did, however, oblige, stripping himself of his leather harness and his gun belt before he kicked off his boots and stepped back just enough to wiggle out of his pants and yank his annoying little turtleneck over his shoulders. The collar caught on his head and tousled his hair on its way off. The result was a naked, disheveled baron with eyes full of hunger, standing bare and proud in front of the super soldier.
Fuck him and his unfaltering confidence. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of, Bucky noticed. Months of chasing after HYDRA had certainly kept the baron’s form well in line, and as for physical attributes that had nothing to do with fitness… well… Bucky found himself blushing again.
”Shall we continue,” Zemo’s voice had dropped to a low rumble that went straight to Bucky’s cock, “or would you rather stare a few minutes longer?”
Bucky winced as his knees slammed against hardwood floors, though with everything going on in his jenga tower of a brain he hardly felt any pain. His body was moving faster than his mind and he was half-crawling towards Zemo before he even realized that he’d dropped to the floor. All he really knew was that he wanted that cock in his mouth, and he needed to swipe that smug little smirk of the baron’s face somehow.
Zemo’s fingers coiled into his hair, tugging Bucky onto his cock with such immediacy that it made the soldier whimper. He ventured a guess that it had been a while for the both of them, and he was determined to make it well worth the wait before the logical part of his brain made an appearance.
At first, he let Zemo guide him, following the push and pull of the fist at the back of his neck with mindless ease, swallowing down the salty taste of precum and sweat as the baron essentially used his throat as his own personal fuck toy. Once again, the man knew exactly what he wanted and how exactly to get himself there. He worked Bucky’s mouth over his cock with steady efficiency, watching all the while.
But Bucky knew he could do better if Zemo just let him.
The choked-back grunts that slipped from the baron’s mouth were intoxicating, but they weren’t anything close to the noises Bucky wanted to elicit.
The slightest drag of his teeth over Zemo’s cock earned him a sharp gasp. The subtle subtle suction of his lips around Zemo’s burning cockhead rewarded him with a full-body tremble. The forced gag as Zemo’s cock butted against the back of Bucky’s throat gave him the electrifying sight of the baron’s jaw dropping open with a guttural moan.
After that, Zemo loosened his grip on Bucky's hair and let the soldier do as he liked, and Bucky certainly liked it.
As badly as Bucky wanted to feel Zemo come down his throat, he stopped himself short.
His own cock was pleading with him by that point, a small puddle of pre had pooled on the floor between his legs, and if he didn't get some attention soon he was bound to pass out.
Blessedly, Zemo seemed able to read his mind. He tugged the soldier by his shirt, which had started to cling to his skin with sweat, leading both of them to the faded recliner in the corner of the room that Bucky had found so lumpy and uncomfortable that he’d chosen to sleep on the floor each night.
For a brief moment, Bucky couldn’t decide what he wanted. If Zemo had bent him over and kicked his legs apart then he would have eagerly obliged. Whether or not he should have been doing anything at all with the baron had flown out the window by the time he’d dropped to his knees for the man, what difference was letting the man give him a rough fuck going to make? Then, of course, Zemo draped himself over the arm of the chair, and the decision was easily made for him.
A little precum and a good smear of spit went a long way, and in no time Bucky was sinking deep inside the man who had tried to kill him just a few years back. The embarrassment had long since left him, and Bucky let out every grunt and growl without care as he felt himself bottom out into the tight heat of the baron underneath him.
He had no chance of holding out for any prolonged time, it already took a great deal of concentration not to pop off at the first needy whine that escaped Zemo’s throat, and it didn't take a genius to tell by the way the baron had started to roll his hips back into Bucky’s thrusts, dragging his cock against the scratchy fabric of the chair that the man wasn't faring any better. But knew he was done for when Zemo’s body finally gave in, and that tight heat around his cock got even tighter. He felt—and heard— Zemo coming undone underneath him, and then there was nothing he could do to stop himself from hooking his knee up onto the armchair next to Zemo’s, burying himself impossibly deeper into the baron as he spilled over. His teeth found purchase in the fleshy part connecting Zemo’s neck and shoulder, and the taste of iron flooded his mouth as he flooded the baron.
“You know, it’s quite a feat to breathe with you crushing my lungs like this.” Zemo’s voice—strained as it was—pulled Bucky from whatever pleasant reverie he’d found himself in in the afterglow of their little escapade. “Move, please, if you don’t mind.”
Bucky tried, honest to God, but his body was lead and it took him a good while to even get his brain to communicate with his disobedient limbs. A minute of focus earned him the ability to wiggle his pinky— tremendous. This time next week he might be able to give a thumbs up.
Zemo huffed after a while, clearly itching to breathe again and remove himself from the motel armchair that had started to ooze the smell of every ass that had ever sat in it. The baron wiggled slightly, meaningless against the weight of the super soldier on top of him, though it did remind Bucky that his cock was still settled deep inside his mission partner.
Bucky grumbled out an apology for the smear of blood on Zemo’s shoulder as he found the strength to peel their bodies apart. He shuddered as his cock finally slipped out and a cooling gush of spend followed after. Zemo was less than thrilled when Bucky used his sweaty shirt to clean it up, but at least he wasn’t pressed into the chair any longer.
“What was that?” Bucky worked up the courage to ask as Zemo collected his things from the dangerous pile of clothes and weapons on the floor.
Zemo scoffed a little. “Sex. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before, James.” He started towards the bedroom, but Bucky grabbed him by the wrist. He searched those beautiful brown eyes for any clue about what the baron truly felt about the two of them, but he got distracted by the little flecks of gold in the man’s irises.
“You know what I mean. What happens now?”
“Now?” The faintest hint of a smile pulled at the corner of Zemo’s lips, which were still burning red from their shared kisses. “Now, I take a shower before I contract some sort of disease from that chair, while you order dinner from the Italian place we passed this morning that I’m sure won’t live up to my expectations.”
Zemo must have seen something flicker across Bucky’s face that the soldier himself had no control of. The baron’s head tilted to the side, as it often did anytime he needed to mull over a new piece of information. Finally, he stepped closer.
“After that… well…” his lips brushed over the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.” He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s lips, humming just a little before he pulled away, leaving Bucky in the room with his heart beating like a machine gun.
And Bucky knew, from then on out, he was absolutely and utterly fucked.