You snap awake suddenly, but don't wrap your hand around the knife handle hidden under your pillow. Progress. You realize the sound that woke you is simply Steve humming in the shower. Only at rare times does your enhanced hearing become an annoyance, rather than a beneficial upgrade. After scanning the room to be sure there is nothing else missing (you deliberately ignore the cold space where Steve's body should be), you allow yourself to close your eyes again.
"Pardon me, Sergeant Barnes, but sir is requesting yours and Captain Rogers' presence for breakfast in the communal kitchen," JARVIS's voice floats into Steve's room (you refuse to consider it yours, you have a perfectly useful guest room that you haven't touched).
You stand out of the crouched position you had taken in the corner the instant Stark's AI started to speak, and carefully replace the knife under your pillow. You and Steve have an understanding about weapons in the bedroom, he doesn't like it, but as with everything else, he puts up no resistance against anything you want (your metal arm hitting him on a helicarrier comes to mind, and you stash the memory away with the rest of the dark parts of you, which is almost everything these days).
"I thought we adjusted the privacy settings in our room, specifically so we didn't have to hear about Tony's whims?" Steve says lightly as he comes back into the bedroom.
In nothing but his towel, a few water droplets running from the tips of damp hair onto those shoulders that cry out to be marked by your teeth, Steve is perfection. His eyes are so blue in his face, your irritation with Stark is already sand through the hourglass of your mind.
"My apologies Captain. Sir insisted that there would be a discussion relevant to the Avengers." Is JARVIS's mild reply.
Steve of course merely nods his head, too used to Stark to be truly bothered. You hate it when the AI's voice breaks into the intimate atmosphere of the bedroom, but as always make no effort to make your thoughts known.
"Bucky? Do you want to come to breakfast?" Steve asks, meeting your eyes across the room as he moves to get dressed.
He knows the answer of course, you never let him leave the apartment without you, but he likes to ask. Steve is much too noble, you don't want the option of him leaving you behind, there's no choice in following him, whether it's into the hell of war, or down two levels in a skyscraper to see the rest of his teammates that you barely tolerate.
You simply move to change your clothes in response, ignoring the spark of arousal that slides through you seeing so much skin exposed on Steve. He said he wanted to go to breakfast, so you are going to go along with him, and not pin him against the wall so you can take him apart, as you wish to. You are getting better at balancing normal activities.
Steve seems preoccupied with something as you follow him into the elevator, always two steps behind his left shoulder, and it's no trouble for you to leave the silence undisturbed. Shoulder to shoulder in the elevator his knuckles brush yours unconsciously and you want so badly to lace your fingers with his, but there is something that always holds back from touching him in front of the other Avengers. You are unsure where the instinct comes from, Before or simply your own assessment of the others in the Tower. You don't want to give them a reason to say anything more to Steve about how close the two of you are. You have never asked Steve if he told the Avengers that the two of you are lovers, but you see no reason to inform them if he has not. One of the first things Steve had told you when you came back to him was all the changes from the 40's to now. Specifically, that homosexuals are much more accepted, it's not illegal, and you could even get married if you wanted (you marveled at the fact, but your attachment to Steve has always been permanent, a piece of paper wouldn't change that).
"There you are! Tony hasn't shut up for the past ten minutes, thinking you weren't going to show," Wilson's greeting is cheerful despite the complaint, as you both settle at the long counter.
Stark's comeback to Wilson is logged, but ignored as you scan the rest of the team. Stark sits anxiously on his bar stool, dregs of his first coffee on the counter while he gestures with his second cup, which Barton is watching warily from his perch on the counter nearby. Banner is scanning a tablet in his lap on Stark's other side, Romanoff poised next to Barton also looks to be interested in the forthcoming discussion but takes a moment to glance over you. She does not openly show it, but you can tell she is still unnerved by your presence (you would be disappointed if she wasn't), shooting someone twice can have that affect. Thor nods to you in greeting as you take the empty seat by him, so Steve can slip onto the stool by Wilson who claps his shoulder in greeting (you make sure his hand doesn't linger too long).
"You need to stop messing with our room's settings," Steve says to Stark first, never one to let things go your Stevie.
Stark waves him off, "Come on Cap it's just for meetings."
"I wasn't aware meetings now included pancakes," Steve replies dryly.
"I wasn't aware they had sarcasm in the 40's until I met you," Stark fires back with a manic grin (you wonder how many days he's been up this time). "I decided to inform all of you that I'm making upgrades to your gear and weapons!"
"Finally!" Is Barton's contribution.
"What do you mean finally? Just for that Katniss, you don't get the heat seeking arrows I just finished this morning." Stark was obnoxious in his indignation bleeding into arrogance.
"What kind of upgrades?" Romanoff breaks into Barton's sputtering.
As Stark opens his mouth he glances at your left arm with clear fascination wrapped up with want. You're aware of his obsession with the tech and could be said to revel in rejecting his attempts to have a closer look at it. You slowly cross your arms and stare at him levelly, until his eyes flick up to meet yours, his frustration is obvious.
"He probably could make some improvements," Steve says low, the others unable to hear.
You can see him peripherally, he has his innocent and earnest face on, and his suggestion is very soft, no way to mistake it for a command. Your hands tighten into fists regardless. Below the lip of the counter, out of the way, his right hand (you only ever let Steve sit on your left these days, you don't quite trust you won't react negatively to the others) moves to rest on your thigh, gives it a light squeeze, an apology. You dip your head in a nod so he knows he's forgiven (as if you could ever hold something against the punk) and watch a sweet smile spread across his face. You know part of it is because you're allowing the touch, you think you would let him do anything he wanted even in front of the others, it's you who doesn't initiate contact outside the apartment.
You know that Steve trusts his team, but then Steve always sees the good in people, while you have always been more cynical (the parts from Before that you can recall tell you that it wasn't something Hydra gave you, which makes it all the more important). They're all killers in their own way, which isn't the problem, it's that you can't trust their relationships with Steve. You can't trust them to have his back, and you certainly wouldn't trust them to watch yours. It makes you glad that there haven't been any emergencies that require the Avengers since you've been at the Tower (three weeks, two days, eight hours and twenty-seven minutes says the Soldier part of you). Not that you don't feel up to the task of going with the team (you have a feeling you will never lose the instinct and precision that embodied the Winter Soldier). You simply don't know whether the cold, calculating, combative side of you will recognize your new allies as such in the heat of battle.
You had a fear of hurting Steve again when you first returned to him, but that was quickly put to rest with a sparring session that he insisted on, and then segued into you fucking him into the mats long enough you were nearly found by an insomnia-suffering Barton. Steve was smug, for days. Never let it be said the punk is not a master tactician. Your mind is kind enough for once to wander down that pleasant walkway of memory, until you note that after half an hour of boastful proclamations, Stark is once again talking about your arm and his comments have finally driven Steve to his feet.
"Bucky doesn't want you poking and prodding him, Tony. Until he makes a point of telling you that you can scan it, it's off the table," Steve is quickly veering into using Captain America's tone, which only goads Stark further. Steve says they are friends, but arguing still seems to be their main venue of communication.
"If Mother Russia over there would consider how it could be improved, this wouldn't be an issue," Stark is standing too and now directs his agitated gaze onto you, you give him credit for making eye contact, "I can make it lighter, give you more sensation, hell I could make it look like a real arm."
"You haven't even looked at his arm, how can you say all of that?" Wilson puts in curiously, he is good for backing up Steve in other ways (you don't think of his comment as coming to your defense, he is Steve's friend, not yours).
"Because, I'm a genius," Stark relates it as fact, but it's not pride in his voice as he starts to glare across the table at Steve.
He should know better.
You're starting to wonder if you will actually have to say something when the elevator opens and Pepper clicks briskly into the room. Stark cuts himself off before he can say anything else, and the tension eases out of Steve's shoulders. You think you may offer to rub those shoulders later as a prelude to a proper thank you, the carpet in his bedroom is far superior to the cold mud of Italy on your knees.
"Good morning everyone, Tony I need to discuss SI's budget with you," Pepper is one of those dames who effortlessly takes command of a room, but manages it nicely and without pissing anyone off. You assume it's in the job description for anyone who has to work with Stark, although you do remember that she is running his company. She reminds you of Agent Carter.
"Do I need to?" Stark asks distractedly, eyes still flickering between you and a testy Steve.
"I would appreciate it, Tony," Pepper responds, a touch of exasperation in her voice, choosing to ignore the tension still present. Stark sighs, and concedes his argument with Steve in favor of retreating with his girlfriend.
Smart.
"That was good timing," Banner comments, his dark eyes darting between you and Steve.
You rise from your chair and a second later Steve copies you, excusing your exit, he follows you into the elevator. Steve uses the short ride up to the apartment to take several deep breaths (you revel in the sound, his ability to use it as an emotionally calming device, rather than a necessary physical one to avoid an asthma attack). You brush your knuckles across his this time, letting him know your appreciation, before moving into the smaller kitchen to make your morning shake. You don't ever want anything to eat first thing after you wake up, and after being frozen then thawed for so long, traditional food does not hold a lot of appeal for your system. Fruits and vegetables blended with vitamins in shakes are your typical staple these days.
"I almost feel like I should apologize for not warning you properly when you came to live here, Tony can be so-" Steve abruptly stops when you send him a look. The history you share makes speech unnecessary on many occasions, which is helpful when you rarely wish to actually speak. Steve is the only one you have ever said a word to. If you were a better man you would feel guilty using Steve as an interpreter for the rest of the Avengers, but you just don't have the energy to bother yet.
Steve visibly lets go of the previous argument and his reaction to it, coming over to you as you add ingredients in the blender, he leans his forehead onto your shoulder, his arms coming up to rest on your hips. You instantly decide that your shake will wait and turn in his arms, bringing your flesh hand up to cup the back of his neck and seal your lips to his. Steve responds in the same breath and opens his mouth to you, tightening his grip and pulling you closer. Your arousal from this morning returns with his touch and you push him backwards till he hits the other counter, slipping your thigh between his to grind against him. You swallow the moan Steve makes and deepen the kiss, wanting to taste every part of him.
You don't like to touch him with your metal arm so you keep it tight by your side, although soon enough Steve will commandeer it anyway, he always does. You lick into his mouth, appreciating his soft lips as the rest of him is all hard muscle that you mold yourself to. Steve sighs lightly and you pull your mouth away to nip down his neck instead, pausing every so often to sink your teeth deeper. The marks don't last long, but it pleases you to see physical proof that he's yours.
"Bucky," Steve groans when you reach the junction between neck and shoulder, biting hard, "bedroom sounds like a good idea."
You reluctantly pull away from him, and follow closely as he leads the way. As soon as the door is shut you push him back into it, then make quick work divesting both of you of your clothes, Steve smiling softy at you. Steve always tries to make you take your time, you know he wants to look closer at your scars and kiss each one (he's said as much) so, you make it a point to distract him. You gracefully drop to your knees, put your right hand on his hip and take him into your mouth. Steve gasps in surprise and his hands fly to your hair, not to pull or direct, he simply runs his hands through it like he can't help himself. You moan around his cock in your mouth in response.
"Buck," Steve's voice is pure gravel as you take him deeper into your throat. You can turn off your gag reflex at will, one convenient thing about the Soldier is having complete control over your body, and you use this ability to its fullest. The sound Steve makes when his cock hits the back of your throat is wrecked, and so satisfying. You suck hard and his hands tighten in your hair, you approve of his roughness and use your grip on his hip to pull him closer. Steve understands immediately and wraps one hand in your hair, making a ponytail of sorts and pulls lightly, the sting on your scalp adds to the warmth gathering in your body. You start to bob your head and Steve begins to chant your name in short little gasping breaths. He is beautiful like this, an artwork unto himself, the fact that you are the cause makes your chest tight and warm.
You decide that Steve deserves a climax without having to wait, since the serum allows for virtually no refractory period, you are both capable of many and have enjoyed exorcising this fact frequently. You set to your mission with a will, taking him deep once more and swallowing reflexively around him before sucking hard at the base again. Steve's hips move lightly back and forth, seemingly unconsciously, because when you glance up at his face his head is tipped back and his eyes are closed. Steve's face is awash with pleasure. It's only a few more minutes before his hands fall away completely, giving you clear warning which you don't take, and then with a breathy intonation of your name (fuck that almost makes you lose it right there) he is pouring down your throat. You keep hold of him until he stills completely.
His breathing evens out quickly, and he is staring down at you with fond affection, but behind that his eyes are still dark with want. Your lips tip up into the shadow of a smirk as you regain your feet. His cheeks used to pink after such an act Before, you do remember that much, but as you stare into his face now there is only appreciation and anticipation. You maneuver him around, backing him up to the bed, keeping eye contact, and follow him down onto the too soft mattress.
"Do you want me to?" Steve asks quietly, and you shake your head, leaning over to grab the slick from the nightstand yourself.
Steve spreads himself out, parting his legs so you can settle between them, he looks like a willing sacrifice. You dimly remember reading about mythology books, and beautiful virgin maidens being offered to the gods. While Steve is neither a dame, nor a virgin, you can't help but think the comparison a sound theory.
You open the slick and move to gather it on your right hand when Steve suddenly puts grabs your left wrist. You raise an eyebrow in confusion (he's stubborn and reckless sure, but no way can he), your thoughts cease as he brings your metal hand up to his face and places your first two fingers into his mouth. Your breath catches as he stares you down, his plush pink lips wrap tight around your fingers, while your sensors pick up his tongue swiping along the seams. Your mouth opens, but no words come out as he thoroughly wets your metal fingers as if this isn't dangerous, like the entire arm isn't a weapon (beyond these thoughts you are not proud to admit it's also the hottest thing he has done to you yet).
It's only when he pulls your hand away and moves it for you between his legs that you come to life. You still your arm in his grasp (you know technically he can overpower it, and you are glad that Steve understands to always allow it) and shake your head, your eyes conveying everything you can't say.
"It's okay, Bucky. I trust you, I want you to."
Steve Rogers, everything good and pure and righteous, is also deviously wicked when he wants to be.
"Steve," Your voice is hoarse and lower than you intended, you feel the need to clear your throat.
Steve doesn't say anything else, just holds your gaze patiently, completely at east despite your tension and the entire situation. Neither of your erections have gone down, and that tells you more than anything that he's serious, and you have already given in to him. You curse under your breath in Russian, and with a glare that tells him he better say something if it hurts (he is by far too willing to ignore pain), you shake his hand loose. Reaching down you use just your index finger to find his entrance, and then the metal is gliding easily inside. Steve inhales sharply and you freeze, your eyes darting over his face.
"S'cold is all, didn't expect it." Steve answers your unspoken query, and his breath is already shortened. You nod once, before leaning down to take his nipple between your teeth none too lightly, he yelps and then groans in pleasure as you continue. Hesitantly, you move your finger around to get him used to it and don't respond when he tells you he can take another (he was the one who wanted to push and try something new, he can damn well wait until you are sure you won't hurt him). He arches up as you switch your mouth to the other side of his chest and sifts a hand into your hair again.
When you deem him relaxed enough you add a second finger and spread them slowly, Steve murmuring encouragement and undulating his hips. You stretch up again and find his mouth with yours, supporting your weight with your right hand, as you work your fingers deeper into Steve. The sensors aren't highly sensitive, but you can feel the pressure of his muscles and the heat from his body. You suck his tongue into your mouth and curl the unforgiving metal in his soft body, his prostate feels no different to you but it is not hard to find.
Steve jerks under you and a tiny whimper escapes him. Instead of continuing to stretch him, you keep your fingers where they are and rub hard. Steve breaks the kiss as his head drops back and he keens, you move down to nip and kiss at his collarbone, so he is free to make more delicious sounds.
"Buck, Bucky."
Steve's voice is breathless and you feel his body tighten as he pushes himself back onto your fingers. You slide a third finger to join the others, digging deep and never letting up on their curl. Steve jackknifes and the noise he makes is almost painful.
"Bucky, please." He pants, pulling your head up to catch your eyes. Sweat has darkened his hair at his temples, his face is flushed and his eyes are glassy from your relentless movements. He is absolutely gorgeous, and you will kill anyone that tries to witness this. He is yours, completely. Protective possessiveness hit you hard and you suddenly can only do as he asks. You kiss him again, your tongue in his mouth a filthy promise, then sit up. You can't help but take just a moment to look at the sight of metal disappearing into his body (surprised at the jolt of want it gives you), before pulling your hand free.
Steve watches you with heated eyes, as you quickly move to slick up your cock and he willingly wraps his legs around your hips, pulling you into his body, his hands clutching at your back. You press into him smoothly and only stop when you are fully inside, the rest of Steve is wrapped around you in an iron hold. Steve catches you in a kiss again, and you are happy to let him direct it, as you pull your hips away and then snap forward. Steve cries out against your mouth and you think you may have as well. Steve is always so tight around you, hard serum-strengthened muscles never stay relaxed for long, and his increased body temperature is nearly searing when you first enter him. You rest your forehead against his as your hips move roughly in and out. You both like hard, deep movements, the speed dependent on the mood. Right now you keep a steady pace, in no particular hurry, in fact you could easily spend all day inside Steve like this.
Steve seems to be in agreement, meeting your powerful thrusts with his own, kissing what he can reach of you. His tongue finds the spot right below your ear and your eyes roll back a little at tingle that runs down your spine. In retaliation, you angle your thrusts to jab his prostate and both of you moan as he constricts around you. Steve pants into your ear, voicing quiet encouragements, so you hike his legs higher and aim to keep brushing that spot. You think the pair of you are definitely meant to be, both of you try to put the others wants first. Right now you simply want to watch him fly apart in pleasure again.
"Bucky, hmn, harder," Steve asks so prettily when you're buried inside him. Your arm whirs as you grasp the headboard and recalibrate to lock the limb into place for balance, you use your right arm to bring his leg up over your shoulder and then you give Steve what he asked for. You don't bother holding your strength back, the knock off serum you have not quite as strong as Steve's and he only asks when he means it. You pound him into the mattress and Steve shouts in pleasure, his hands digging into your hips and sides hard enough to leave his own marks. You lean down again to capture his lips, bending his body with your movements. Your shoulder-length hair makes a curtain around you as lick and nip at his mouth. Steve catches your bottom lip between his teeth and bites before sucking it between his lips. You groan in appreciation and slam into him faster.
"Hn, Buck!" Steve's mouth leaves yours to cry out and you know he's close. You keep your rhythm, driving him to the edge quickly, and lift up your torso so you can see his face. He is exquisite when he's totally lost to sensation. Sure enough, only a few more thrusts and his body spasms around yours, his cock painting both of your chests white. Steve's head falls back and he mouths your name soundlessly, hands suddenly crushing you closer to him. You think you moan his name in response, the sight and feel of his orgasm sending you to your own. Heat and pleasure build, then wash through you in waves as your hips drive hard into his one last time, and you stay still to spill yourself deep inside him.
You allow your left arm, whirring and clicking once again, to let go of the headboard, release Steve's leg and allow yourself to relax. Even your full weight lying down on Steve is not too much for him, so you stay where you are and rest your head on his shoulder. Steve is taking deep breaths under you, his arm coming up to brush through your hair and he presses a kiss to your temple. You make a small rumble in your throat and burrow further into his embrace. Neither of you are in a rush to move, so you simply lay together, still joined, breaths slow and even.
Steve used to gripe about lots of cuddling after sex (always had something to prove), but now that he has you back it's difficult to get out of bed after the fact (you don't mind at all, you nearly crave his hands on you, which is counterpoint to your unwillingness to touch or be touched by anyone else).
Steve has always been in his own category, and you are fairly certain the same can be said in the reverse. Steve is your entire world, he was even before you were brainwashed and tortured for seventy years, you remember enough to be sure of that. The thought didn't bother you then and it matters even less now, when you both finally have each other again. You won't let anyone take this away from you, Hydra, the Avengers or some other being or faction. As you feel Steve's arms compress around you, you know he feels the same way.