Time passed slowly but Steve tried to manage. The days had changed but his routine remained the same. He still went out for runs in the early mornings with Sam, and he wasted his afternoons on the computer (which Sam insisted he needed) trying to catch up on all of the things he'd missed.
And really, thank God for Sam. He was always so encouraging. He seemed to know the right thing to say and the right time to say it. He knew when to crack a lighthearted joke that would make everything just a little bit better, but the failures were beginning to wear Steve out. He wouldn't show it, though. Not intentionally, at least.
"You did the right thing, Steve. We'd still be locked up if it wasn't for you. And Bucky," he hesitated, watching the way Steve's mouth twitched at the name, "You saved him. It wasn't his fault, and you believed in him. Tony will come around someday, though I hope it doesn't take another alien invasion for it to happen." Sam smiled brightly as he slid a plate of scrambled eggs across the table. They were always dry and burnt at the edges, like Sam could never quite pay attention to what he was doing while he was making them, but Steve was grateful for the hospitality.
"I know. I'm sure he will." It was the same conversation they'd had a million times, the same blindly optimistic rambling over eggs and buttered toast that they always had, only less enthusiastic with each day that passed. "Thank you for breakfast. I'm going to go back to my place for a shower. I'll call you later."
Sam nodded warmly, but Steve could see the frustration in his eyes. It had only been a few weeks, and he knew he'd been obsessing. He couldn't help it. His world had been turned upside down so quickly. His team, his friends, torn to pieces. He absently wondered how they were all doing off on their own. Hopefully better than he was, moping about with no direction, throwing his weight into an army of punching bags and running until he felt numb. The only thing he looked forward to was seeing Bucky.
Bucky.
He could still feel the heat of Bucky's calloused fingertips as they grazed his cheekbone lightly in the darkness, barely there, like smoke. And just like smoke it was gone in a whisper of the breeze, leaving nary a trace of its existence.
He should have said something, anything to make sure he wouldn't just run off again, but he didn't. He got too swept up in the moment, let Bucky disappear into the shadow of the Winter Soldier, and his body ran away with him. He was glad to have his friend back, but the distance was killing him. He was in good hands in Wakanda - they were helping him - but Steve couldn't help but feel the dull ache, the selfish desire to have Bucky back. Just like old times.
Steve toed off his shoes once he returned to his apartment and rubbed his eyes with his palms until he could see stars. He felt sticky from sweat and tired from his run. Tired? Maybe he was just bored. He tugged his shirt off over his head, struggling a bit as it clung to his damp skin, and he tossed it carelessly into the corner. His sweatpants followed suit, landing on the coffee table, and he stretched his hands over his head. He stole a glance toward the empty chair in the corner as he always did, somehow still hopeful that he might find someone sitting there, looming in the shadows. As usual, however, it was unoccupied.
He ambled through the bedroom and stepped out of his briefs, kicking them into the corner near the laundry basket. The room was stuffy and dull but he was too distracted to care. He let out a shallow huff as he glanced toward the closed and dusty window. His legs carried his tired body forward through the bathroom door and he kicked it shut with his heel.
The hot water was a comfort cascading over his face, washing away the dirt that had clung to the sweat on his skin. He closed his eyes and let the steady stream fall over him, let his mind wander to dark places as it tended to do when he was alone. He couldn't help it. He couldn't stop thinking about it.
Why did he have to go?
Steve's eyes shot open and he shook his head, jarring the question from his brain. He grabbed the cheap bar of soap from its shelf and scrubbed at his skin in an attempt to keep his mind preoccupied, but the room was foggy and every shadow in the corner of his eye acted as a reminder of what he'd done. He breathed deeply, welcoming the vapor into his lungs, hoping it would calm his nerves.
He was ashamed of himself. His best friend had finally come back, broken and confused, and he let everything get so out of hand. Bucky was in there somewhere, he was sure of it, but he let the Winter Soldier take over when he collapsed under the pressure of those razor sharp eyes. Bucky wanted comfort, but the Soldier wanted release. If he'd done something – anything – held onto him and refused to let go, none of this would have happened. His friend would never have ended up in this mess, his mind like putty and in the wrong hands, again.
The hot water knob squeaked as he twisted it and he pressed his forehead against the wet tile, staring at the drain and wishing he'd done everything differently. He stood there for a long while, letting the steam escape in waves through the bathroom window until the air was completely clear. He pushed aside the frosted glass of the shower door and quickly dried himself off, ruffling his hair in the soft white towel. He wanted to sleep all day.
He stepped into his dimly lit room in search of a clean pair of sweatpants and savored the soft breeze that crept in, the flicker of the blinds allowing the afternoon sunlight to bleed in over the walls. The open window? He thought nothing of it, somehow, until he was about to toss his dampened towel over the headboard.
Bucky was lying on his side in the middle of the bed, legs tucked up toward his chest and arms stretched out in front of him. Steve could hear his own heart pounding in his ears and he rubbed his eyes, afraid that this was some cruel dream.
Though his friend's back was facing him, Steve knew that he was sleeping, and he made every effort to move forward in complete silence. He retrieved his clothes without making a sound and quickly pulled them on as he crept to the other side of the room for a closer look.
The expression on Bucky's face seemed pained and locks of tangled brown hair fell in front of his furrowed brow. Steve could see his eyes rapidly moving beneath his lids and his shiny new arm was clenched into a fist beneath the pillow. Not wanting to wake him, Steve took a few steps back and sat down in the corner on an ugly chair that was seldom used. He swallowed the lump in his throat and let his eyes wander over his friend's body, wondering how the hell he got there.
Bucky wore boots and black jeans with a plain white shirt, his zip-up jacket strewn on the floor.
Steve fought the urge to reach out to him in excitement and concern and reluctantly opted to thumb through a book he kept on his nightstand instead. His eyes scanned the pages though he remembered nothing that they read as his gaze kept darting upward every few lines to make sure that Bucky was still there and not a figment of his imagination.
The minutes passed slowly, the hours slower, and Steve simply watched as his friend continued to sleep, stirring on occasion with an exhausted sigh and the mechanical whirring of his arm. His breaths were slow and soothing and the Captain smiled to himself as the muscles in Bucky's jaw began to slacken. His shudders and groans became few and far between, and he finally seemed to be at ease.
"Steve?"
His eyes opened slowly and he squinted into the darkness, letting them adjust to the limited light from the sunset that peeked through his window. He blinked a few times before realizing where he was, still seated in the uncomfortable chair in his bedroom, keeping watch over someone.
"Bucky?" he said suddenly, sitting up straight. "I'm here, Buck..."
His friend was still lying in the same position, knees pulled forward and arm outstretched, the tips of his fingers drawing clumsy circles over the bedspread. He nodded.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked, timidly standing from his spot. He stepped lightly toward the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements. The man still looked half-asleep.
"Steve..." Bucky repeated, pressing his face against the pillow.
"Yeah Buck," he replied with a smile. "It's me."
The room was quiet apart from the cars that drove past, and Steve took his time in settling down at the edge of the bed. He palmed at the wrinkles in the fabric that clung to his thighs, and he tried to work up the courage to turn his head, to meet the vacant gaze that dug into his skin.
"I came back," Bucky murmured, shifting in his spot.
"How?" Steve asked curiously. He breathed in deeply through his nose and glanced over his shoulder. He tried desperately to appear nonchalant as not to cause unnecessary stress, but he could feel the muscles in his back trembling.
"I started to remember things," Bucky replied, ignoring the question. "Very… vividly. I needed a break." He trailed off.
Steve nodded. "I'm glad you're here now," he said, pausing for a moment. "Why did you leave? I thought you said it was too dangerous? Why didn't anyone try to contact me?" Steve asked, inching closer. Bucky flinched at the movement but quickly recovered, the same absent expression returning to his face as he stared across the room.
"I don't know," he whispered.
Steve opened his mouth to speak but only silence came to him. He was frozen in place, jaw still agape, begging words of comfort and understanding to come pouring out, but nothing happened. Bucky was a million miles away, staring toward the wall with unfocused eyes.
"Some days were fine," Bucky muttered finally after a drawn out silence, and Steve tightened his grip on his own knees. "Some days I felt like I was there. Everything happening all over again. They did tests, tried to figure out how to suppress my triggers so it won't happen again…" His voice tapered off and he frowned, pulling his Vibranium arm from beneath the pillow. His eyes fell over it absently and he wiggled his fingers. "All the things I've done…"
Steve couldn't bear it any longer. He turned on the spot and reached out his hand, clasping it over his friend's shoulder. Bucky's eyes widened and he examined him closely, but made no effort to pull away. It was as though he'd just woken up from a nightmare.
"It's going to be okay. I'm here now," Steve said firmly, in the most assuring tone he could muster. "We'll get through this together."
"I still remember when they told me you were dead," Bucky whimpered, sitting upright. The mechanics of his arm began whirring as he clenched both his fists. "They told me..." he repeated, and his chest was suddenly heaving, ragged and uneven breaths breaking away from him violently as the memories started coming back.
"I'm here, Buck," Steve repeated, trying to calm him down. "And I'm very much alive." He slid his palm over Bucky's forearm and kneaded at the burning skin with his thumb. "It's alright... it's going to be alright."
"How could they do this to me?" Bucky scrubbed his face with his hands and his cheekbones glistened with fresh tears. "They pulled me apart, Steve... They pulled everything out of me... My head," he hissed, disbelief still etched into the lines on his face. "God, it hurts."
"Look at me," said Steve, taking his friend's shoulders in his hands firmly. "We'll figure this out, together. Please, don't leave this time. You're safe here. I swear on my life, Buck." He tried to force a smile but Bucky wasn't looking at him anymore. His downcast eyes were glassy and vacant, and he only nodded weakly.
Steve was hesitant to move for a long while, only letting the pads of his thumbs drag across the thin fabric of Bucky's shirt. Though his friend remained unresponsive, he hoped that the gesture was soothing.
"I tried to kill you," Bucky muttered softly.
He had Bucky's face but not his eyes. His eyes were old - worn and tired and scarred from the horrors he'd seen - cold and glassy and eerily vacant. He looked without seeing.
"No you didn't. Pierce tried to kill me. Zemo tried to kill me. It wasn't your fault. It's going to get better, I promise, but you can't keep blaming yourself for what they made you do. I can help you. We can work on it. I'm with you 'til the end of the line."
Bucky raised his head and for the first time all evening he began to look like himself. His eyes seemed less glazed and the lines in his forehead began to soften as the tension in his muscles subsided. He licked his lips absently and blinked a few times before looking up, finally meeting the Captain's bright blue gaze.
"Please just stay here with me. I can't help you if you're not here." Steve blushed, feeling oddly embarrassed. Self-conscious even, in the face of the man that was his childhood friend. He felt naked now, finally having to own up to his actions. "I also... I want to apologize for my behavior last time you were here," Steve choked out, immediately breaking eye contact. It sounded so formal, so forced. He cracked his knuckles and shifted his weight around before scratching at the back of his neck. He wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands. "I know we didn't really get a chance to talk about it with everything that happened with my…" Team? Friends? "I didn't mean to scare you away. Please don't run off again this time. I can protect you. T'Challa can protect you too, but you're going to have to stay near one of us to be safe. You can't deal with this alone."
The silence was worrisome but he found it difficult to meet his friend's gaze. He felt a tightness in his stomach.
He glanced up finally to see Bucky staring back at him, brows knitted together as he seemed to be searching for something.
"Do you remember what happened?" Steve asked timidly, and he honestly wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to that question.
"I'm not..." Bucky started after a moment, turning his head. "No," he said finally, and the Captain sighed. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Buck. Never mind."
As it turned out, that was not the answer he was looking for.
"Did we fight? Did I try to kill you again?"
"Sort of," Steve replied nervously. "Don't worry about it. I know you've been sleeping a while, but I can tell that you're still tired. When you wake up you can tell me how you got here. For now, you should get some more rest."
"You're probably right," said Bucky, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Are you going to stay here?"
Steve's back went rigid for a moment and he cleared his throat. "Do you want me to?"
"I think, yeah," his friend replied before lying back down. "I don't know. I don't want to hurt you. I never really know what happens after I go to sleep. Sometimes I wake up feeling like myself. Sometimes I don't. They're not really sure why. They said they might have seen some correlation somewhere, but I can't keep up with all of the brain scans."
"I'll stay," Steve said with a nod. He didn't want him to be alone.
"Thanks." Bucky smiled, but his eyes looked sad.
The Captain nodded before quietly shuffling to his dresser to grab an extra pair of sweats since his friend's jeans seemed less than ideal. "Here, this will probably be more comfortable than what you've got on," he said.
Bucky looked appreciative as he stood from the bed and stripped off his clothes. Steve stared at the floor sheepishly, remembering the Soldier's discomfort with putting his scars out on display during their last encounter in this apartment. He averted his gaze until Bucky had pulled on his pants.
"Are you alright?" Bucky asked, and the question caught him off guard.
"Of course," he lied and then climbed into bed. The room was dark, the last few rays of sunlight finally having disappeared behind the surrounding buildings, and Steve laid rigidly on his back, staring at the black ceiling. He felt the mattress dip and rock as Bucky tried to make himself comfortable, and he tried to ignore the foreign sound of that arm, busying himself with squinting at the faint flickers from orange streetlights that bled onto the walls. It seemed to take ages for his friend to finally settle down with a huff, and even longer for his breathing to steady. He wasn't asleep, Steve was sure of it, but he was trying to be.
Steve wasn't tired. He'd been bored all day and even napped on that horrible armchair, but lying next to Bucky - actual Bucky and not the Winter Soldier - made him anxious. He wanted to toss and turn, to pull the blanket up over his ears like he did when he was alone, but his muscles were frozen and his chest was too tight. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe as quietly as possible. In for four... Out for...
"Are you sure you're alright?" Bucky asked, and Steve's eyes shot open.
"Yeah," he replied too quickly. He could tell by his voice that Bucky was facing away from him.
"You seem a little tense," he added before fluffing his own pillow.
"I'm fine. I hope I'm not bothering you," said Steve, the line of his body straighter than it had ever been.
"I was going to say the same thing," Bucky chuckled, pushing the hair from his face. "You haven't moved since you laid down and I feel like a fucking tornado over here." Steve couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously though, it's making me self-conscious. I can sleep on the floor if that would help. You could even put a bell on me if it would make you feel better."
"Shut up," Steve blurted out, finally allowing his muscles to relax. He turned on his side to face his friend's back, and he admired the faint silhouette of his broad shoulders in the window. It felt strange yet familiar, the two of them joking around. The man that he had mourned, whom he'd spent whole grief-stricken nights crying over until his eyes hurt, was right there in front of him. He could reach out and touch him if he wanted, just to make sure.
"That's better. Goodnight, Steve," Bucky said with a sigh. He sounded tired.
"Goodnight," he replied, pulling the covers up over his ears.
Steve awoke a few hours later and was relieved to find that his friend had not scampered away soundlessly into the night or punched him in the face after suffering a nightmare. He smiled to himself as his eyes adjusted to Bucky's face, oddly calm and relaxed. He must have rolled over in his sleep.
He spent the next few minutes staring, feeling marginally creepy but mostly thrilled. He had been waiting for this - for Bucky to finally end up back where he belonged, mostly in one piece. He knew he would be safe in Wakanda but he hated how far apart they were. With everything that had gone on they never really got a chance to catch up, to be anything other than the Captain and the Soldier. Sam introduced him to FaceTime so that the two of them could keep in touch, but even when he managed to get the damn thing working it seemed to make his heart ache even more.
He squinted slightly at the face in front of him, studying it the best he could in the minimal light. His eyes took a while to adapt to the darkness, but he could finally make out more than his expression.
Bucky was young. He was ragged, frayed around the edges from mission after mission, with only forced stasis to provide him sleep (if one could even call it that). He'd seen the photos. He always looked anything but restful, the pain frozen on his face. But he was young. So young and yet so old, worn down from all the agony he had seen and all the nightmares he had caused. Steve struggled himself as the man out of time, and yet he'd been lucky enough to be woken up gently. Bucky had been thrown to the wolves, used by the greatest evils in the world.
He watched as his friend tilted his head and a lock of hair fell in front of his eyes, following the edge of his nose and curving around his chin. It seemed to bother him for a moment and he shifted in his sleep so Steve reached out a hand to brush it away. The tips of his fingers had barely grazed Bucky's cheek when his eyes darted open, a split-second of confusion giving way to pre-programmed defense.
Bucky grabbed him by the forearm with his metal digits, squeezing and twisting hard enough to break a normal man's radius before wrapping his fingers around Steve's neck. Luckily his flesh and bone hand was just weak enough to be pried away, and Steve began coughing out a plea.
"Stop! It's me... it's just me!" he shouted, grimacing at the pain in his arm. His muscles trembled as he tried to hold his friend back, cursing himself for being too slow.
"Where am I?" Bucky screamed back, refusing to relent. Steve stared into his eyes and sighed, wondering how many times this had happened before, how many scientists must have been afraid to help.
"You're in my apartment, you had a nightmare," he replied as calmly as possible. He paused for a moment and winced as his friend's grip tightened, and he tried desperately to keep his own arm in a natural position. "You're safe here, Buck... You're safe... It was just a dream..."
Bucky's eyes darted across the room but he kept his grasp firm until he could assess the situation. He was breathing erratically through his nose as if he were trying to save face, pretending not to be as panicked as he very clearly was.
"Steve?" he murmured, squinting in the darkness.
"Yeah, it's just me," he replied, attempting to hide the strain in his voice as his friend finally let go of him. "Calm down, it's okay... You asked me to stay with you... Do you remember that? Do you remember anything before you fell asleep?" He was speaking but Bucky wasn't listening. He was staring at his hands again, opening and closing his fists like it was a nervous tick, but he seemed to be recovering.
"I tried to kill you," Bucky muttered under his breath, finally rolling onto his back. Steve could barely hear him, his heart was pounding so hard.
"It's okay," he lied, knowing full well that it didn't sound convincing.
"I knew this was a bad idea," Bucky admitted, and Steve winced. He was at a loss for words. He was frozen in place, muscles constricted so tightly they hurt, and his forearm was still throbbing from nearly being shattered just moments ago. He was in way over his head. "Fuck," Bucky whispered.
Steve sighed in frustration, angry and confused and a little afraid. He hated to admit it, but Bucky was still so volatile. He was damaged and dangerous, and despite all of his good intentions, whatever they were trying on Wakanda didn't seem to be making much of a difference.
"It's fine. We'll work on it. I'm sure we'll figure this out."
Bucky chuckled despite the pained expression on his face. "Always the optimist," he muttered, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "I can't do this Steve. I can't just put you in danger again. I don't know what to do with myself. It's this place... There's something about being here that's making my head spin." Steve placed a hand over his friend's shoulder, timid yet firm. Though he meant it as a comfort, he couldn't help but feel awkward. "They've been trying different ways to wake me up. You know, like a normal person." He shook his head solemnly. "You touched my face," he continued, and Steve tried his best not to seem startled.
"You had hair in your eyes," he replied quickly, and his friend smiled to himself.
"I think it scared me. I haven't been around people much. Not for a very long time, at least. I was on my own for so long, apparently it's become second nature for me to react violently when someone touches me."
"I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry. I should have known better." Steve dropped his head, internally cursing himself for sending his pal off the rails again.
"It was kind of nice, I think. For a second," Bucky mused aloud, and Steve's eyes widened.
Nothing could have prepared him for the silence that followed, and he desperately tried to conceal the tenseness of his muscles, the pounding of his heart, and the rigidity of his spine all at once. He felt like he might just split in two, holding himself steady in the stupidest position imaginable while he half-clung to Bucky's shoulder with a limp and motionless hand. He wanted to swallow the lump in his throat but his mouth had gone bone dry, and suddenly all he could bear to do was hold his breath.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Bucky's fingertips fall gently over the back of his hand and he hoped that he hadn't let it show. His chest tightened as he gathered the courage to look up, and was relieved to find his friend's eyes closed, a surprisingly tranquil expression gracing his features.
"You're warm," Bucky said quietly, his lips barely moving. Steve wasn't sure how to respond, so he opted not to. Instead he studied Bucky's face in the darkness and let him continue to slide his thumb back and forth over his skin, the sensation foreign yet welcomed. "What are we gonna do?"
"We'll figure it out. Don't worry about it right now. You can stay here with me as long as you'd like," he replied, nodding to himself. He hoped that he wasn't making empty promises.
"You're too good to me, Steve," Bucky said with a smile.
"Hey, I'm just paying you back for all those years you looked after me. Took care of me when I was sick as a dog and always stuck up for me when I was getting my butt kicked." He chuckled as he recalled his old scrawny self, always getting into scraps.
Bucky held onto his hand a little tighter and Steve slowly lowered himself back down on into a more comfortable position, happy to have a pillow to rest his head on.
"I feel weird."
"What's weird?" Steve asked curiously.
"I don't know. I feel something," Bucky admitted hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure what he was talking about. "I never feel anything." Steve chewed his lip. "Maybe I'm just cold."
Steve furrowed his brow in confusion before grabbing at the pile of blankets that had been shoved to their feet. "Here, this should help," he said as he pulled them up to his friend's chest.
"I don't think it will," Bucky sighed before finally opening his eyes. They looked darker than usual.
"Are you okay?" Steve began to ask, but suddenly his friend had turned on his side, and his hand was pressed against his face.
"Is this alright?" Bucky asked quickly, a slight waver in his voice, but Steve could only stare back at him. "What happened last time I came to see you?" he asked as he moved his thumb over Steve's cheek. He seemed nervous.
"You were confused. You thought you still needed to complete your mission. You wanted to kill me."
"No," Bucky snapped. "That's not all that happened," he said, letting his fingers slide into Steve's hair. "You're lying to me. Why am I acting like this? Why do I feel like this?"
"Like what?"
"Don't," he growled, frustrated, wrapping his hand around the back of Steve's neck. "Why are you letting me do this?"
Steve swallowed hard but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He watched uncomfortably as Bucky eyed him up and down while cold fingertips pressed gently against the back of his head. They sent shivers down his spine.
"I know what I did," Bucky whispered. "I know it because I can feel it right now. It feels familiar. Did I hurt you?"
"You didn't hurt me," Steve said quickly, trying to fend off any feelings of guilt.
Bucky pressed his thumb over the Captain's lower lip and sighed. "I feel dizzy... I feel so..." he trailed off as his eyes wandered to Steve's mouth. "Steve," he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut.
"It's okay," Steve said softly. "We're okay. Just stay with me."
Bucky's lips were on him before he could react, full of desperation. He was biting, sucking, and making sounds that he hadn't heard in ages, but it seemed so wrong because it felt exactly the same as last time.
"Slow down," Steve managed to interject between quick breaths, but his friend didn't care. Both of his hands were clasped behind the Captain's head, and he was pulling him deeper into the kiss. "Wait," he said again, finally pulling away, and Bucky's face didn't seem to be entirely his own. "You have to stay with me, Buck. I feel like I'm losing you here."
Bucky nodded reluctantly and blinked a few times, though the glazed look in his eyes didn't quite subside.
Bucky's mouth was back on his in less than a second, pressing deep and hard and hungry. A warm tongue impatiently shoved its way past his lips without waiting for permission, and though it made Steve's heart flutter wildly, it felt violent somehow. He took in quick arrhythmic breaths through his nose as he tried to catch up, tried so hard to be what his friend so desperately needed. He let Bucky invade him, allowed him to explore, and he remained a pliable partner in this sudden exchange. He let Bucky taste him, to nip at his lips and breathe in his breath and hold onto him tightly like he might be taken away at any given moment. He let Bucky whimper and moan as his fingers pulled at his hair and he melted into the touch like it was always meant to be.
After a long while they finally pulled away, panting from the rush and the lack of oxygen. They stared at each other through heavily lidded eyes and a small smile pulled at the corners of the Captain's lips.
"You need to slow down," Steve said quietly, his voice low and breathy.
"Please don't make me," Bucky whined, and it truly seemed to pain him.
"Last time you were here, it was like this..." he replied cautiously, feeling the familiar pang of guilt creep through his belly. "I don't know if…" he could feel his ears go red. "I don't know if this is just the way it is with you, or if it's something else."
Bucky licked his lips and stared back at him curiously. He visibly swallowed and waited (for what, Steve was unsure), and his breaths began to even out gradually.
"I can slow down," he said finally, and his eyes looked a little clearer. "Can I kiss you again?" Steve nodded and closed his eyes.
The second time around was significantly less frantic. Bucky's mouth swept over his like silk, and he very nearly groaned unceremoniously. Instead of forcing his way in, Bucky parted his lips. He let Steve explore him, gently and with purpose.
"I missed you," Bucky whined breathlessly as he pulled away to look into his friend's eyes. "I know that I should have stayed, but I couldn't stand it. Even if it's only for a little while, I had to see you. And not on one of those stupid screens… I had to be here, to do this," he continued as his nails raked through Steve's hair, earning him a delighted shiver.
"I missed you too," Steve replied. And he did. God, how he missed him. His full lips, his tousled hair, his bright eyes. He had wanted this so badly for so long. He wanted to look Bucky in the eyes, real Bucky, his Bucky, while they did this, whatever the hell this was. He wanted to see the glimmer in those sapphire irises as they met his own, feel the warmth from shaky breaths across his cheek. He wanted. He wanted.
Bucky gasped as Steve nipped at his lower lip. He let his hand slide across his the Captain's neck and placed his fingers gently against his cheek, and Steve shivered at the touch of cool metal against overheated skin.
"Come here," Bucky murmured breathlessly, guiding his friend toward him. Steve complied, letting Bucky pull him forward so that he hovered overhead, propped up with his elbows on either side of the pillow. Bucky spread his legs slightly so that the Captain could fall comfortably into place.
They remained like that for a long while, indulging one another with long and languid kisses. Steve gently twirled his friend's hair in his fingers and sighed as Bucky's hands slowly snaked up his sides, lightly toying at the hem of his shirt yet not quite tugging it upward.
"You can do it, if you want," he offered hesitantly.
"What?" Bucky questioned, looking a little dazed when their eyes finally met. It took him a moment to realize what his friend was saying, and the smile on his face was so bright and full of warmth that Steve swore his heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, okay," he replied, and took the edge of the Captain's thin tee in his fingers, dragging it up and over his head. "Fuck," he muttered as he watched the way those hard muscles rippled as he shimmied his way out of the clothing, and if it had been anyone else Steve might have told them to watch their language, but when he caught sight of the way his friend was staring at him he couldn't bring himself to ruin the moment. Bucky's eyes were dark and hazy like a thunderstorm, lips pink and swollen, and he was looking at him like he'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He could feel his cheeks growing red.
"Your turn," he said finally, feeling mildly self-conscious. He grinned sheepishly as he pushed himself up to give his friend more room to move, but Bucky's hands were suddenly wrapped around him and pulling him in tight.
Bucky's lips were on his neck and he sighed, a warm tongue darting out to lick a long line down to his collarbone and he couldn't have stopped his hips from rolling forward if he tried.
"Steve," he breathed against the Captain's throat.
"I'm going to need you to get out of that shirt," Steve groaned, his voice low and shaky.
"What happened to slow?" Bucky shot back with a grin.
"I'm just trying to keep us on the same page," Steve replied, smirking as he motioned toward his own naked torso. His friend nodded, still sporting that gorgeous smile, before tugging the fabric over his head. The mechanics of his arm produced a quiet hum and he froze, startled. "It's okay," Steve said quickly, hoping that his tone was reassuring.
"Sort of kills the mood, doesn't it?" Bucky asked, his formerly brilliant smile not quite reaching his eyes.
"No," the Captain replied suddenly. "No, it doesn't."
Steve let the weight of his body settle back down over his friend's and he reveled in their shared warmth, the feel of skin against skin proving much more satisfying. He tilted his head to the side and brushed their lips together, sweet and teasing, chasing the concern away from Bucky's mind. He needed to show him how much he wanted him. All of him.
It must have worked because Bucky's metal digits were splayed across his lower back, helping to firmly press their hips together. It was Bucky's turn to snap his hips forward, and Steve hissed at the contact. He needed it, needed more, but he promised he would take it slow.
"Don't," Bucky whispered and Steve immediately tensed. He searched his friend's face for any sign that he was no longer enjoying himself. "I know what you're thinking," Bucky continued, his voice husky and soft. "But I'm getting tired of slow."
Steve released the breath he didn't know he was holding and chuckled with relief. He meant to say something back but the words were lost as Bucky pressed up and against him once more, the long line of his cock sliding over his own through thin fabric.
"Alright," he said in reply, and that was all his friend needed to hear.
Bucky's hand slid down the front of his night pants with ease. He didn't bother with ceremony and Steve couldn't say that he minded it at all as Bucky wrapped his warm fingers over his length and gave it a light, experimental squeeze.
"Oh," Bucky breathed out while Steve tried to get his tensing muscles to cooperate.
"Oh?" he inquired, not quite understanding the expression that came over his friend's face.
"This feels familiar," he answered, pressing his palm against the underside of the Captain's member. "We did it like this, last time."
"Do you want to do it differently this time?" Steve asked, finally getting his breathing under control. There was no getting around the fact that this wasn't going to take long, regardless of how they did it.
"I think so, yeah, actually," his friend replied, though he seemed embarrassed.
"Get on top of me, then," Steve said hurriedly, surprising himself. It was getting to be too much, the sensation of Bucky's fingers on him, his delicious scent and the feel of his solid body beneath him. "Please," he added awkwardly.
Bucky bit his lip and smirked before rolling them over gracelessly, and Steve scrunched up his nose against the tickle of long hair that was suddenly draped over his face.
"We're a mess," Bucky said with a laugh and all that Steve could manage to do was smile back at him. His heart felt warm in his chest at the sound of his friend's amusement, relishing how pure and genuine this moment felt, and he never wanted it to end. "Kiss me," Bucky murmured against his lips and Steve could think of nothing else that he would rather be doing. He closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together softly, and it seemed to ignite something deep inside both of them.
A low groan escaped Steve's lips as Bucky began to rock forward and back at a leisurely pace. The friction and warmth between Bucky's legs was unbelievable. He pressed his head back into the pillow and watched as his friend leaned back a bit, eyes closed, straddling him and rolling his hips. He reached his hands up and placed them on Bucky's thighs, pleased when he saw the corners of those full lips turn up in a smile.
"This might surprise you, but I've never actually done this with a person before," Bucky said with a smirk as he laced their fingers together.
"With a person?" Steve asked with a quirk of his brow.
"I mean, I've done it plenty of times by myself…" his friend continued, and he could feel himself blush. "Unless… Did we…?"
"No," Steve said suddenly, sensing a tinge of worry in Bucky's voice. "We didn't do that."
The tightness in Bucky's shoulders lessened and he leaned down for a chaste kiss. "Alright. Then yes, never with a person before."
"But you've… by yourself?" the Captain asked in a hushed tone, as if someone could be listening. He was met with an expression that Bucky only reserved for when he said something adorably innocent.
"Do you want to?" he breathed, low and husky, and the sound made Steve's cock twitch.
"Yes," he replied without even having to think about it. Absolutely, yes.
Bucky wasted no time in removing himself from Steve's lap just enough so that he could hook his fingers into the elastic waistband of his pants and tug, licking his lips at the sight of the growing bulge beneath the fresh pair of navy briefs.
"Do you keep anything of use in that nightstand of yours or do boy scouts frown upon that kind of thing?" he asked teasingly.
"Shut up," Steve growled, covering his face with the crook of his arm to hide the color in his cheeks. "Second drawer," he mumbled like it was some kind of secret.
Bucky smiled to himself at the sight and carefully climbed out of the bed in search of supplies, and Steve nearly whined at the loss of contact. Thankfully, his friend was only gone for a moment, having located a small bottle of lube from the drawer with ease. When he came back, he was wearing nothing at all.
Steve could feel it before he saw it, the hot and bare length pressing hard against his thigh as Bucky nudged his arm away with his nose to steal another kiss. It was short and sweet, a firm press of their lips, and then he was gone again, trailing his fingers and body downward to relieve him of his own last shred of clothing.
"You're perfect," Bucky murmured against his skin, stopping to nip at his pelvis. He tried desperately to keep from rolling his hips forward at the touch, though he wasn't entirely sure whether or not he succeeded.
Before he could manage a response Bucky's tongue was on him, firm and flat against the underside of his cock. He licked a long stripe up to the tip and Steve dug his nails into the mattress.
"Do you want to fuck me?" Bucky whispered, and Steve's back arched off the bed.
"Language," he said with a smirk, but his attempt at humor felt lacking as the word came out more broken and ragged than he meant it to.
"Very funny," Bucky replied before taking the Captain in his hand and giving the base of his cock a light squeeze. "Was that a yes?"
"Yes," Steve whined, kneading the blanket at his sides.
Slowly, Bucky released him from his grasp and snaked back up his body, spreading his legs and sliding against him. He pushed himself up on his elbows to press their lips together, and he felt a pleasant warmth spread through his chest as he felt his friend smile against him.
He heard the familiar snap of the bottle being opened, and cool liquid was being spread over him. Bucky's hands were surprisingly gentle as he coated him with long, smooth strokes.
"This will take a few minutes," Bucky breathed against him, but before he could set out to prepare himself Steve took the bottle from him.
"Can I?" he asked, leaning back against the pillows so that he could see the solid body above himself in all its glory. Bucky's lips were full and pink, and his cheeks and neck were flushed despite the breeze coming in from the window. His own cock was at attention, shiny and slick at the end, and he was absolutely gorgeous. He was given a curt nod, so he tilted the bottle and let the clear liquid flow over his fingers.
He took Bucky's length in his left hand and let his thumb trace over it softly as he used his other to gently cup his friend's balls. He palmed them gently as he moved further back, drawing small circles against the sensitive skin. Bucky's head dropped forward and he chewed his lip as he held onto the Captain's shoulders for support.
Steve moved at a leisurely pace, cautious and thorough as not to cause his friend any pain. He slowly worked a finger inside, carefully watching Bucky's face for any signs of discomfort. He was pleased to see his friend's jaw fall open slightly and his eyelids flutter shut as he began to press back against him in encouragement.
He accompanied the addition of a second finger with a long full stroke of his friend's length and a gentle slide against his scrotum, and a pleasured sigh escaped Bucky's lips.
"Have you done this before?" Bucky breathed, gently kneading Steve's shoulders.
"Never," he replied with a small chuckle, relieved to find that it wasn't terrible. He truly had no idea what he was doing.
"Another," Bucky moaned, pressing back against his hand once more.
"You sure?"
He received a quick nod in response.
"Alright, but come here first," he said. Bucky opened his eyes slowly and Steve swallowed loudly at the sight of his dilated pupils, eyelids heavy as he struggled to focus. Despite being a little confused, he did as he was told and slowly lifted his hips to move closer. Steve slid down a little further on the bed and craned his neck forward to take the head of his cock in his mouth as he added another finger.
Bucky hissed and threw his head back as he trembled at the sensation, nearly too much of everything all at once. Steve's motions were a bit clumsy and unsure but it felt so good nonetheless. He chewed his lip to keep from crying out in pleasure and focused on the pain to keep himself from finishing right then and there.
"Steve," he moaned up toward the ceiling as his friend slowly worked his fingers in and out, his tongue over and under. He gently rocked his hips back and forth, both filling and being filled. He let his head fall forward once again and gaped at the sight of Steve's lips wrapped tightly around him, eyes locked up onto his with a magical intensity. He gently pulled himself away as not to finish before they started, and Steve wiped a small trail of saliva from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. It was an unbelievably sexy look on him.
Bucky released a small whimper at the loss of contact as his friend pulled his hand back, but he was ready and eager as he watched Steve slick himself back up. He repositioned himself over the Captain's hips and took the heavy cock in his hand, glancing back up into those glistening eyes before lowering himself at an impossibly slow speed.
Steve pressed his head back against the pillows at the sensation. Bucky was so hot, so wet and tight against him, and he already had trouble catching his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt himself disappear completely inside, fully enveloped, and he quickly grasped at Bucky's thighs for purchase.
"You feel so good, Buck," he heard himself saying as his friend moved up and dropped back down again at a smooth pace. Bucky's hands were on his chest and he could hear ragged breaths above him.
"I want you closer," Bucky said with a shuddery breath that made Steve tremble.
"Come here," he said without thinking and wrapped his arms around his friend's waist. Bucky fell forward with a pleased chuckle and a quick gasp as Steve quickly flipped them, switching their positions and wrapping his mouth around Bucky's neck.
"Fuck," Bucky breathed against him, spreading his legs and grabbing Steve's ass with his metal palm. The Captain shivered against the cold sensation, causing his hips to buck forward. Bucky's other hand splayed across the damp skin of Steve's back and he reveled in the feel of the strong muscles contracting beneath. He loved the press of Steve's body against his own, strong and solid as it covered him completely. He tilted his head to allow easier access to his throat, and Steve promptly accepted the invitation, sucking and biting his way down to his collarbone.
Steve licked at Bucky's salty skin as he quickened his thrusts. The only thing louder than his own heartbeat pounding in his ears were the noises that seemed to be escaping his friend's lips without his notice. With each snap of his hips came a whine, a curse, a shout, a symphony of quick and labored breaths, a desperate whimper each time he angled his hips just so, and he knew he couldn't last much longer.
He could feel Bucky's cock throbbing against his abdomen, wet and hard as their bodies slid together, and he was lifting his hips to press them even closer still, seeking friction. He wanted to reach down and take him in his hand but Bucky snatched up his wrists as he prepared to do so and brought them up over his head so that they were completely flush, and he brought him in for a punishing kiss.
Steve's lips felt raw but he didn't care, he needed it so badly, this visceral connection, and he knew that Bucky needed it too. The closer they were the more Bucky seemed to enjoy it, so he pressed down even harder, and his friend moaned into the kiss.
Bucky felt like he was suffocating, and he loved it. He moved his hands to lace their fingers together and Steve place his large hands over his own, pressing them back down into the mattress and holding him there, trapped. Solid. Safe.
He could feel his release creeping to the forefront with each perfectly angled thrust, each long drag of Steve's hard body against him, each groan that Steve breathed into his mouth. He could hear himself crying out breathlessly, his loud whines and filthy words muffled against lips pressed roughly against his own, and he felt his whole body tense and shudder as he came, hot and sticky between them.
With a low and feral moan Steve followed quickly after, stroking him through the aftershocks, and he slowly unclenched his fists.
They laid there for a few moments while Steve worked to catch his breath, and Bucky blushed as he realized he'd been quietly whimpering as he tried to do the same. His heart was still pounding, though slowly leveling out, and he sighed as Steve carefully extracted himself and fell into place next to him on the bed.
"Was that alright?" Steve asked, and Bucky let out a long, deep laugh. Steve smiled to himself, glancing to his side to see his friend so disheveled, so unbelievably spent, skin glistening in the low light. His hair was mussed and clinging to his temples, and his teeth looked brilliantly white as the grin widened over his face. He looked gorgeous like that, and Steve felt a wash of emotion come over him, something akin to pride, knowing that he did it, that he was the one that made Bucky writhe in pleasure, to cry out and thrash beneath him as he came, and he was absolutely covered in the evidence.
"I'd say it was pretty alright," Bucky teased as he ran a hand over his face to push the hair from his eyes. He chewed his lip as he stared at the ceiling and shuddered as the cool night air washed over his damp skin.
"Good," Steve replied, a smile evident in his voice, as he turned to mimic his friend's movements.
"Steve," Bucky began quietly. It was low and hesitant, and the Captain hummed an acknowledgement. "I love you."
Steve's breath caught in his throat. He laid perfectly still for a long moment and listened to the quiet whirr of his friend's hand, a telltale sign of his nervousness. He had felt exhausted just seconds prior, but suddenly he felt so awake and alive. He slowly turned on his side to look at Bucky's face, and his eyes traced over the little crinkle that formed between his brows as he continued to stare straight ahead, chest rising and falling steadily as he took deep breaths through his barely parted lips.
"I've always loved you, Buck," he replied, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
The smile that spread across Bucky's face was instant, and suddenly he was facing his friend, kissing him deeply, and running his metal digits through Steve's ruffled hair.
"Thank you," Bucky breathed against him, barely above a whisper. "For everything."
"Funny," Steve chuckled, placing a warm hand against Bucky's cheek. "I was going to tell you the same thing."