"Bucky!" the blonde shrieked. Her curls tickled his cheek. "You shouldn't!" She made a feeble attempt to push his hands away.

"Do you really want me to stop?" he asked in his most sultry voice, like Clark Gable in the pictures. He slipped his hand higher under her skirt until he could feel the flesh at the top of her stockings. He made soothing circles with his thumb against her thigh, each one a little higher up her leg.

He'd had girls say stop, and he always did because he wasn't a jerk like some guys. He'd kiss them softly with all the romance they craved, tell them that they were just so special he got carried away. "Can you ever forgive a jerk like me," he'd whisper sadly and sometimes the girl would let him get a little further. And sometimes not.

He'd been out with Mitzy (Bitzy?) a few times. He should probably remember the name of the girl he was kissing, but they were all Babe, or Sweetheart, or Dollface. Kept it simple.

He kissed her slowly, sucked on her bottom lip, cupped her breast over her dress, slipped in a little tongue which she received with a sigh. Her legs parted a little bit more. "Do you really want me to stop?" he repeated.

She shook her head no, and gasped as his fingers slid inside her lacy drawers. She was already slick and made no protest as he slipped one finger inside her and then another while his thumb brushed her clit.

"Oh, Bucky," she sighed, completely compliant now. This was the furthest he'd gotten with Mitzy and yeah, he's a pig, but he was hoping he might get a little in return. Maybe a soft, little hand inside his fly. But it was not to be.

After he'd made her squeal and moan on his fingers and was just sliding her hand towards his groin, she suddenly remembered the time. "Oh, Bucky, you gotta get me home right now! My dad'll kill both of us if I'm late for curfew!"

"Aw, Baby, just a few more minutes, you got me so worked up…"

"Yeah?"

"Can't you tell? I'm so hot for ya."

"Oh, but the time. Next time, I promise!"

So he drove her home, kissed her cheek on her stoop, all too aware of the potential of parental eyes peering from dark windows. Promised that they'd do it again real soon.

Bucky parked his uncle's DeSoto in the lot behind his uncle's house and started to walk home. His balls ached, and frustration put his teeth on edge. He thought about how nice it would be to take his aching cock in his hand, give a few tugs and release the pressure. A quick jerk was no substitute for the real thing of course, or even someone else's hand, or mouth, but it would do, had to do. He'd thought about just pulling over and helping himself in the car before dropping it off, but decided against it in favor of the comfort and privacy of his own bed. All he needed was for a cop to come by while his trousers were down and his Johnson leaking in his hand. He'd probably be in less trouble if the cop found him with his hand up Mitzy's dress. At least that a guy could understand, but exposing yourself in public, even in a car would put him down as some sort of sick pervert who got off on people seeing. And he couldn't quite picture himself explaining to the cop that the dame wound him up and left him hanging even if the cop could probably relate because what guy hasn't been there with most girls keeping their knees firmly together even when you had your hand under their blouse and your tongue down their throat. It wasn't like he wouldn't wear a rubber. He'd never leave a girl like that and he had four burning a hole in his wallet. But good girls don't do that.

Well, he knew someone who wouldn't relate: Steve. Steve had never been near a girl (as far as Bucky knew and Bucky had known Steve their whole lives it seemed and they told each other everything). Bucky had tried. He'd set Steve up with girls, bad girls who were practically a sure thing, but Steve was too decent a guy to want a bad girl, and the good girls weren't interested in a guy like Steve. They didn't see what an amazing catch Steve would be. Bucky might be able to twirl them around the dance floor, but Steve was smart and kind and if he could get himself into a good art college he'd be able to move up, maybe work for one of those ad firms up on Madison Ave. and give them a life that good girls want.

And Bucky thought that Steve was beautiful. Well, you know in a guy way, handsome, but pretty, and here's where Bucky's brain broke down. Because deep down he did think that Steve was as beautiful as any dame, with lips that'd be so easy to kiss, and that wasn't something that a normal, healthy guy thought about his best friend. It's certainly NOT something they'd talked about and never would. If Steve ever knew the filthy things that crossed Bucky's mind just before he fell asleep or just as he woke up, he'd never speak to Bucky again. He didn't think Steve would turn him into the police, just tell a priest and pray, and look at Bucky with those big blue eyes full of disgust and pity. Bucky didn't think he could live through that. Besides, it was just a few random thoughts. Bucky liked girls. He didn't get a woody for guys (except Steve). He liked girls and girls liked him, and the good girls let him get pretty far, and the bad girls let him get all the way most of the time. And that wouldn't be true if he were a fairy, right?

But somehow he found himself turning towards Steve's street instead of heading directly home. It was almost unconscious. He was lost in thought, and when he looked up he realized he was there. He moved some trashcans over and as quietly as he could clambered up to grab the fire escape and climb up. Even though it was late fall Steve's window was open about an inch to let in the cold, fresh air that was supposed to be good for him, but Steve was so cold most of the time that Bucky wasn't sure if it wasn't doing more harm than good. He climbed in and carefully put the shim back in the window to hold it open.

"Hey, Steve, Stevie, you awake?" If that wasn't the dumbest thing anyone had ever asked in the middle of the night, he didn't know what was.

The tiny lump on the bed stirred and Steve sat up rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His hair was all tousled and his fringe hung over his face. Bucky thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen, but Steve would legitimately kill him if he said it out loud.

"Bucky? What are you doing here?" Steve whispered. Steve's mom was asleep in the next room. "What happened to your date? What time is it?" Steve fumbled toward the alarm clock on the little table next to his bed.

"'Bout half past midnight. I was walking home and I thought I'd swing by to see…if you needed anything." No, that was the dumbest thing anyone had ever said right there. Bucky was glad it was too dark for Steve to see his face blush.

"Oh," said Steve simply. "Date go ok?"

"Yeah, nice girl. Let me get to third base, but that's all."

"You like her?"

"I like her well enough." He fancied he could hear Steve's disapproval. For him the only reason to get that far with a girl was if you intended to marry her.

"Gonna' see her again?"

"Maybe, dunno."

"Oh," said Steve again. "You cold, Bucky?"

Bucky was shivering now that he was heated from walking. He was still standing near the open window. "Yeah, can I get under your covers? I mean, I'm not going to stay long, I mean, but if I could warm up, you know, before I go?" It was a lame excuse but not entirely unprecedented. He'd crept into Steve's bedroom before and wrapped Steve up in his arms to keep him warm. Only that had become less and less common as they'd gotten older. Guys don't do that with other guys.

"Ok," said Steve and held the blanket up for Bucky to climb in. Bucky slipped his shoes off and crept across the floor, but when he started to get in Steve said, "Can you wash your hands first, Buck? But be careful not to wake my ma. She's got to be up for her shift at five."

Bucky realized that his fingers must still smell of Mitzy's sweet little pussy. He tiptoed out of Steve's room to the main room of the Roger's apartment, opening the door as quietly as he could. Steve's mom slept on the couch since there was only one bedroom. Bucky knew that Steve hated, hated, hated that he got the bed instead of his mom, but whenever Steve slept on the couch his scoliosis would have him so twisted up that he could barely stand straight the day after.

"Stevie?" Steve's mom called from the bed.

Bucky froze where he was. From the doorway of the bedroom (he hadn't realized that Steve had gotten out of bed) Steve said, "'S'all right, Ma. Just gettin' some water."

Bucky crept the rest of the way to the sink and washed his hands thoroughly with the Lava soap, scrubbing under his nails and up to his wrists. He couldn't resist a little sniff before he started, and the musky scent made his cock twitch. See, no way he was a fairy.

He crept back to the bedroom. Steve had gotten back in bed. He looked so small in his too large pajamas, and still slightly dazed, and damn if that didn't make Bucky's cock twitch a little too. He wanted to wrap Steve up in his arms and never let go. He knew Steve would smell of Lava, and starch (who starches his pajamas?) and probably a little of moth balls. And Steve.

"Hey, Stevie, wanna go up to the roof like when we were kids?" Why was he doing this? He should just sit on Steve's bed with his hands under the covers until they were warm and then go home.

"Thought you were cold?"

"Yeah, but we can take your quilts and talk and we won't disturb your ma."

There was a long pause. So long that Bucky thought Steve might have fallen back asleep. That would be the best thing. Bucky could sneak out again and maybe Steve wouldn't even remember in the morning.

"Ok," Steve said finally. He got out of bed and put on his wool flannel bathrobe and his threadbare coat on top of it. He slipped his bare feet into his galoshes while Bucky put his shoes back on.

"You gonna be able to climb the fire escape in those?"

Steve sighed and said, "I'll be fine, Bucky," but he let Bucky go behind him just in case he slipped. Bucky grabbed the quilts and followed.

You never got stars in Brooklyn. The lights of the city made a perpetual dusk in the sky, and the neon lights flashed and blinked non-stop. And when there was a full moon like tonight, it lit up the smog and clouds like it was the middle of a rainy day.

Bucky spread one quilt on the tarpaper of the roof. He sat them down near one of the vent pipes so he could drape the second one over it like a tent, then pulled Steve tightly to him to share his warmth.

"Whaddya wanna talk about?"

"Dunno, just feelin'…(lonely, sad, hot and worked up)…like talkin'."

"You ok? The dame slap your face or somethin'?"

"Nah, nothin' like that. Girls don't usually slap my pretty face."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to make ya any uglier than you are."

"Punk."

"Jerk."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Bucky watched Steve's profile, lit off and on by a blue neon sign down the street. Steve was so damn beautiful, he thought again, those long, dark lashes, the pouty mouth. Pretty as sin.

Steve stayed tense. Bucky hadn't snuck in his window for a long time, especially not after a date. Steve missed when Bucky would do it. He didn't want to think about how much he missed it. When Bucky would hold him close so they could fit on Steve's tiny bed, harder and harder as Bucky grew up and filled out while Steve stayed the same shrimp he'd always been and always would be. But in a way he was glad too that Bucky didn't come by anymore, because as they'd gotten older and Bucky had gotten all muscly from sparring at the gym, it had been harder and harder to stay calm when Bucky held him. It wasn't that Steve got aroused by it, well not exactly. He wasn't like that and neither was Bucky, but he felt so right in Bucky's arms, like he could sleep peacefully and know that Bucky was always going to be there. He'd drift off to sleep sometimes and God knows what he might mumble in his sleep. "I love you, Bucky" would probably be the most innocent. Because sometimes his dreams… In his dreams Steve was as tall and strong as Bucky and he'd be able to defend himself AND Bucky from the evil Nazis that were causing trouble in Europe. And sometimes Bucky would be kissing a girl, a bad girl Steve knew in the dream, and Steve would step in to pull Bucky from the girl's arms and into his because… Because what if Bucky found the right girl and left Steve behind.

Lost in the jumble of memories and feelings he barely noticed when Bucky touched his cheek with his fingers, but when Bucky said his name in a low, husky voice, he came crashing back down to earth. Bucky was touching him! Bucky was touching him like Steve was one of his girls because, because… Steve leapt up so fast he almost knocked Bucky over.

He got five feet away and turned to face Bucky. He was shaking all over. "I thought you were different, Bucky! I know everybody thinks I'm a fairy 'cos I'm small, and have girlish lips and long lashes. But I thought you were different; I thought you knew better. Didja think you could get me up here 'cos you're frustrated and expect me to suck you off? Shut your eyes and pretend I'm, I'm…Carole Lombard or, or somebody, 'cos I'll just be so grateful, so, so grateful that I get to touch you? That you let me touch you? 'Cos I'm just pantin' for it? Like some whore, some two-bit whore that don't mean nothing? I'm not, I'm not, I'm not a swish and I ain't going to play a girl for you." He was almost crying.

Bucky started to rise but Steve assumed his pathetic fighting stance, fists in the air so he stayed crouched. "Oh, God, Steve, no, no! I didn't mean-. I don't think you're a girl, or a swish or a nancy-boy or nothin'! I'm the—" God, he was. Because Steve's beautiful face in the moonlight made him hard in his trousers, harder than Mitzy or any dame ever had. "I'm the invert, the monster. I want you, always wanted you, as you, not a girl, and now you'll never talk to me again. I get down on my knees in church and I pray, and pray, I pray every night that God'll make me normal so I don't feel this for you. 'Cos it hurts, it hurts so much. And I shove the girls atcha because I keep thinking if you find a girl then you'll be with her, and marry her, and maybe I can get over what I feel for ya. And then I can't stand it. If they look at you at all, I'm flirting with them to get them away from you so I don't lose you. I'll die if I lose you. If this makes me lose you, oh, God, I don't know what I'll do. I like the girls, sure I do, and they're soft and warm and smell nice, and they feel nice, but they don't mean nothing 'cos I'm thinking of you, and wondering what your lips would taste like, and how you'd feel in my arms, really in my arms, not just huddling against me for warmth, 'cos you're so beautiful, Steve, not like a girl, not like a girl at all, but like a fuckin' angel in a cathedral. And you're so beautiful inside and I hate people for not seeing it like I do. And sometimes I'm afraid to touch ya, 'cos I don't want to taint you with my sickness, or I can't stand to touch ya 'cos I know I'll never have more, but I can't stand to not touch ya, or be near you, even if ya think I'm just your pal. If that's all I ever get from you, it'll be enough, because I'm the one that's grateful to you. Grateful just to be near ya, allowed to be near ya." Tears were smarting from his eyes because he knew for the first time that it was all true.

Steve crumpled, fell to his knees hard enough to bruise. "Oh, God, oh, Jesus, Bucky, I didn't know, I didn't know. I…I said I wasn't no swish, but what I really meant is that I'm terrified that I am one, 'cos everyone says it, and they must know, like it's written on my face every time I look at ya. And I thought you musta guessed and felt sorry for me 'cos, 'cos, I do want you, I guess like a girl wants you, but it doesn't feel like that. It doesn't feel wrong or unnatural, just me an' you, like we are only, only more."

Bucky reached out his hand and Steve reached out his as if they were on two sides of a chasm instead of just five feet apart. Steve crawled towards Bucky and Bucky just wanted to die because he didn't want to see Steve crawl, ever. Staying crouched he shuffled to meet him and then to pull him to his feet until they were both standing.

Bucky reached out to cup Steve's face in his hand and Steve leaned into it like he needed it. His eyes fluttered shut.

"Can I kiss you now, Stevie?" Bucky whispered.

Steve's eyes stayed shut but he nodded slowly, "I'd like that, Bucky. I think I'd like that."

Bucky tilted Steve's chin up and leaned down to just brush his lips across Steve's. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced with any of the girls, because he wanted it so badly, had wanted it so badly for so long. Steve's lips were chapped, and didn't taste of waxy lipstick. They tasted like Ipana, and a little Vaseline that he must have rubbed on them before bed. Bucky couldn't help himself. He brushed the tip of his tongue against that plush lower lip that he'd stared at for so long. Steve collapsed against him with the softest, sweetest of sighs. "You've got a girl's mouth too, ya know, Buck," he whispered, "like you're wearing lipstick all the time, only you're not, or like you've been kissing for a long time and they're all red and wet. And I hate it when I think you've been kissing some dame so hard and want it all at the same time. Kiss me again."

This time Bucky applied more pressure, tilted his head up so he could slide his lips over Steve's and back down. They were barely kissing, more just breathing each other in. Steve's thin arms slid around his shoulders and neck and his fingers brushed the hair at the nape. A tiny, little moan escaped his mouth. They broke apart and moved back in, heads angled differently, to taste a different part of each others' mouths. It was so natural and perfect like they'd been doing it forever. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve's ribs and pulled him closer, enveloping him. They stood like that for some minutes, just kissing soft and slow until Steve started to shiver. They still didn't speak. Bucky just took Steve's hand and led him back to the blankets. He wrapped them both back up and put his arm beneath Steve's back to keep him from the chill of the roof that seeped through the thin quilt.

"Can I?" he whispered as he traced his finger along Steve's jaw.

Steve swallowed and nodded.

So he kissed along Steve's jaw and down into the hollow of his throat. Steve was a fast learner, because when Bucky paused Steve did the same in return, down Bucky's throat, over his Adam's apple and into his shoulder, nuzzling inside Bucky's collar.

Bucky exhaled in a rush. "What's the matter with us, Stevie. Are we sick, 'cos this don't feel sick? This feels perfect."

"Yeah," Steve murmured, "perfect," and his mouth found Bucky's again.

Time stopped as they kissed, and Bucky still ached but he felt like he could stay like this forever, just kissing Steve.

He was actually startled when Steve pulled back to ask "What would you do, Buck, if you were with a girl, I mean, not all the way! But maybe third base?"

"Aw, Stevie, I don't need—"

"But I do," Steve whispered back fiercely.

"Oh, ok. We'd kiss for awhile..."

"Uh-hunh."

"And then I'd pull her into my lap like this." He expected Steve to fight being lifted up so easily, but he was soft and relaxed in Bucky's arms.

"And if she seemed to be havin' a good time, I might put my hand on her knee." He put his hand on Steve's knobby knee over his pajamas. "Then, when she's used to it, move my hand higher, little by little." He ran his hand gently up the inside of Steve's thigh.

"Under her skirt, right?" said Steve, in a rough exhalation.

"Yeah, under her skirt until I can touch her skin. And I'm kissing her all the time so she still feels good." Steve's lips struggled to find Bucky's. "And if she doesn't protest I'll slip my hand into her drawers…" he stopped touching Steve's thigh and instead slid his hand down the front of Steve's pajamas, found the wet tip of Steve's erect penis and circled Steve's slit with his thumb. Steve gasped and almost fell off of Bucky's lap, but Bucky caught him. "Easy, easy, Stevie, I've got you."

"Wha— what else?"

"You sure, Baby?"

Breathy little sigh, "Yes."

"Well, I'll just brush my fingers over her clit and see how she reacts. Remember the clit, Stevie, when I showed you those anatomy books? It's what really makes a girl feel good."

"Yeah, feel good."

"Then maybe I'll slip just the tip of my fingers inside her." He slid his hand down until he had about a third of Steve's penis in his palm. This was the first penis he'd ever touched other than his own, but he knew what he liked. He tightened his grip but stayed slow as he rubbed it up and down. "Ya gotta be careful, 'cos all dames are different. Some like it hard and rough and they're grinding themselves down on my fingers from the start, and some gotta be teased open lightly."

Steve was practically boneless in his arms, eyes squeezed shut, "Guuhhnn" he managed as Bucky took more of his cock in his hand. He was down to the base and he kept moving his hand up and down, base to tip, base to tip, catching the moisture there and using it to keep the glide smooth. "You can tell with girls, when you're doing it right. That little button gets so hard, just like us, and they're just coating my fingers with their wetness until I feel 'em clinch up tight, and they flood my fingers, moanin' my name, and clutching at me."

"Buck-!"

"You gonna' come for me, Stevie, Baby? You gonna coat my fingers? Fall apart in my arms?"

But Steve shook his head, "Whatta they do for you, Bucky? When your doin' this? Wanna do somethin' for you."

"Ya don't gotta, Steve. I'm just liking this, watching you flush up. Your lips are so pink now," he paused to kiss those perfect lips. "And your hair's all damp. God, you look like an angel, Baby, like God's own angel."

But Steve's hand was fumbling for Bucky's crotch and Bucky was too hard, too aroused to say no.

"Whatta the girls do, Bucky? Do they touch you?" He was sliding his hand up and down the front of Bucky's trousers.

"Oh, God, Stevie. I tell 'em, I tell 'em they got me so worked up. That I just hurt. That they got me so hot. I'll undo my flies and let 'em, ohhh, let 'em slip their little hands in, just like that, oh, Stevie. And, when I'm gonna, when I'm so close, I'll stop 'em and cover my cock with my handkerchief so I don't make a mess, and I'll kiss 'em, I'll kiss 'em so hard while I finish in my hand. You close, Baby, you close?" He knew Steve was, could feel the veins on his cock pulsing.

"So close, Bucky, oh, God." Bucky grabbed his handkerchief, the nice square from jacket pocket, not the white, practical one he'd usually use, just because it was easier to reach, and just in time, because he only managed to cover the head of Steve's cock before Steve was convulsing, clutching helplessly at Bucky's shirt, burying his moans into Bucky's shoulder.

Still panting he resumed his work on Bucky's cock, long, expert fingers working Bucky to the edge. Bucky passed over his white handkerchief and Steve carefully wrapped up Bucky's cock to stroke hard and fast. As he tipped over he grabbed Steve's face and kissed him as deeply and passionately as he could. He laid Steve down then onto his back with Bucky's arm beneath him, but the moon had gone and the wind had picked up and Steve was shivering. "Gotta get you back down to your bed. You're my fella now and I gotta take care o' you."

"You've always taken care of me, Buck," murmured Steve, nuzzling against him.

"And I always will, sweetheart, I always will."

They folded up the quilts so Bucky could sling them over his shoulder, and went back down, Bucky going first so Steve was always above him.

Safely back inside, Steve listened at the door to make sure they hadn't disturbed his mother, then took off his shoes and coat but left the bathrobe on. Bucky took off his shoes and coat again, and they climbed into Steve's narrow bed, Bucky on his back and Steve draped over him.

After a little while Steve asked, voice small, "What are we gonna do, Bucky? It's a crime and a sin, but I don't wanna stop, wanna be with you just like this every night. How can somethin' so right, so good, that makes us so happy be a sin?"

"I don't know, Stevie. I just know I— I love you, and that's gotta count for somethin' in this world right?"

"Yeah, I love you too, ya' big lug."

"Go to sleep, punk."

He hadn't meant to sleep so long, and his arm beneath Steve's shoulder had long since gone numb, but when Steve's alarm clock showed four he knew he had to go. He tried to disentangle himself without waking Steve, but Steve was stuck to him like a limpet.

"I gotta go, Steve Baby, your ma'll be gettin' up soon."

They kissed again, long and slow, and he could feel himself getting worked up again. "Stevie, I gotta go or all of Brooklyn's gonna know I been with you all night."

"I know," sighed Steve. "See ya tomorrow? I mean today?"

"Of course, probably have to come save your skinny ass in some alley."

"What, defend my honor, or somethin'?"

"Defend your everything, Baby." And with that he managed to grab his shoes and coat and climb back out the window. He walked home whistling Blue Moon, feeling better than he had in ages, since those dreams of Steve had begun.