It was late, and Steve Rogers was listening to his gramophone playing some soft jazz. In front of him an abandoned mug, and outside his window, rain. It had been a long, frustrating day. A day Steve wished to forget about. But nothing would do.
Suddenly there was a raucous pounding on his door. It sounded as if the poor thing would break into splinters. He opened the door, and his heart seemed to beat twice as fast.
"You." growled his visitor. The sound of rain and saxophone faded. All that was left was that voice.
Standing at his door, with rain water soaking him through and through was Bucky. The water dripped down his clothes, making everything tighter and more revealing than Steve thought was absolutely necessary.
"Bucky?" Steve asked quietly.
Instead of a reply, Steve was pushed up against the wall. Bucky's left arm was at his throat, close to crushing his windpipes. "Bucky. It's me. Steve. Don't you remember?"
Steve could smell the alcohol on Bucky's breath. It was strong, like he had been drinking for hours. Jerkily, hesitantly Bucky dropped his arm. He still gripped Steve's arm tightly with his other hand.
"Oh that's rich, coming from you. That's the problem. I remember too much." Bucky's voice was gruff, broken.
"I don't understand..." Steve was confused.
A flash of anger lights up Bucky's eyes. "Don't you?"
Pleadingly Steve looks for some remnant of the man he had loved.
"Don't you remember?" His grip tightened around Steve's arm.
"Buck, you're hurting me." Steve whispered. Instantly his arm was let go. Bucky dropped to his knees.
"How could you forget. It meant everything to me. I thought it meant something to you too." he accused.
Steve thought back, so much had happened. How could he remember one event?
"If you won't remember, I'll make you." Bucky said determinedly. He rose and again pushed Steve to the wall. Steve felt the breath being stolen from his lips as Bucky firmly pressed his lips against his. With his left arm, Bucky held both Steve's arms above his head. The hem of Steve's ratty t-shirt rose reveling his obliques and boxers. The kiss was hot, and a little sloppy. But he didn't care. It had been the first time someone had kissed him with such lust in a long time. Steve leaned his head down towards Bucky, allowing the other to explore his mouth with his tongue.
Steve began to moan a bit, from the pain in his arms, but also because Bucky really knew how to turn him on. Slowly Bucky moved away from Steve's mouth and started to suck on his neck. He wanted to mark up Steve as his, and his alone. Bucky moved his knee up rubbing it against the growing bulge in Steve's pants.
Steve began to pant and moan quite a bit more. Bucky glanced up at him, their eyes meeting for the first time. Again he bit down on Steve's neck, harder than before, and the poor boy let out a gasp. Bucky smirked.
"I'm surprised you don't remember," he said between breaths.
"Remember what?" Steve begged. He was literally at the mercy of The Winter Soldier, a man who was anything but frigid.
Bucky's eyes narrowed, his displeasure was clear. "It really shouldn't be so difficult to get you to remember."
Bucky gave Steve's dick a sharp tug. Steve let out a cry. His breathing became more labored, and he was certainly panting harder. He began to shake, blood rushing away from his head to his groin. With amusement Bucky wondered just how much Steve could take.
In a lustful haze Steve dragged Bucky towards his bedroom, each discarding clothes along the way. In the warm light of his room Steve hesitantly placed his fingers on the scars around Bucky's prosthetic arm. Bucky pressed Steve's hand against his chest. Below the rain and heat, Steve could feel the ragged heartbeat of the broken soldier.
"The Russians weren't as kind as the Americans," Bucky said as an explanation.
Steve wanted to say something, to apologize or something, but Bucky didn't give him the chance. Again their lips met in a teeth grinding kiss. Their tongues briefly fought for dominance, but Bucky won hands down. He pushed Steve down, and left a trail of wet kisses down his chest. He flipped Steve onto his stomach and whispered huskily in his ear, "The Russians weren't so gentle, and I don't plan on being any different."
That night Steve's apartment were filled with his screams of satisfaction.
Steve awoke to his room a mess smelling like sweat and sex. He was curled up in Bucky's good arm. His Winter Soldier slept on, and Steve remembered. He remembered what Bucky so desperately wanted him to never forget. Their first night together. A night where Steve had lost his virginity to Bucky. A different Bucky, one who had been so gentle and slow. Nothing like the Winter Soldier he had now. But Steve wouldn't want it any other way.
My friend and I have gotten into an argument over who tops. I think Bucky, and she thinks Steve. To further my argument I wrote her this. I know it's not very good, but I don't usually write much smut(ish) stories. If you have any advice, or comments please leave a review! Also if you have any other points on why Bucky tops, I'd appreciate them. ~T.W.o.W.