Summary: Steve and Bucky finally get a chance to talk after the rescue of the 107th Infantry Regiment.
Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)
Word Count: 1245
Warnings: male/male relationship, male on male kissing, male on male sexual content, some angst, some fluff, STUCKY (you’ve been warned, so don’t get mad at me if you don’t like it)
Author’s Notes: I’ve had at least three separate fics start with an image that pops in my head just as I fall asleep. This is one of those fics. If you do not want to be tagged in my Stucky fics, please send me an ask or a message and I will put you on the exception list.
***My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.***
Summary: Steve Rogers was the league leading home run hitter, a Golden Glove shortstop, and team captain, all of which made him very comfortable with his position on the Yankees. Until James “Bucky” Barnes was called up from the minors to take over for their injured center fielder. Now Steve isn’t so sure where he stands anymore, both professionally and personally. Who knew some young, cocky, annoying kid from Brooklyn would turn Steve’s life upside down?
Part 7: Bucky and Steve run into Steve’s parents at their favorite pizza restaurant.
The Players: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky), Thor Odinson, Pietro Maximoff, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Jarvis, Bruce Banner, Brock Rumlow, Sam Wilson, Peter Quill, Helmut Zemo
Word Count: 1887
Warnings: angst, some language, m/m relationship
Author’s Notes: For the purposes of this fic, Bucky is a few years younger than Steve. I know it’s been forever since I updated, which I apologize for. I kind of lost steam and couldn’t get it back. Fortunately, inspiration struck.
***My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.***
Warnings: Angsty; Bucky x Steve- ish? Steve x reader
WC: 1121
A/N: I am OBSESSED with Calum Scott’s (version) of Dancing on My Own. Seriously, please give it a listen before reading so you can get a vibe for the mood.
I’ve never really considered myself a huge Stucky person (usually I just think of them as the ultimate bromance), but I haven’t been able to get this out of my head. Sooooo…here’s this? It’s super different for me, so let me know what you think!
Thanks to my dear friend @butterbeertoasts as always for looking it over 🙂
Bucky had always thought the world of Steve. They’d grown up together, fought side by side in the war, and looked out for one another most of their lives. Their actual lives; he didn’t count the decades he’d been brainwashed or that Steve had been frozen. Steve had been the only semi-constant thing in his life. No matter how far gone Bucky was, Steve had never given up on him, even for a moment.
Bucky couldn’t pinpoint when things had begun to change. It had been gradual and subtle and one day he realized things were just…different. His eyes would linger a second too long when they worked out in the gym. If Steve got hurt, he couldn’t breathe until he knew his friend would be okay. He became captivated by the way Steve’s face would light up when he smiled. When Bucky finally came to the realization, it hit him like a ton of bricks.
He didn’t just care about Steve— he loved him.
Somebody said you got a new friend But does she love you better than I can? And there’s a big black sky over my town I know where you’re at, I bet she’s around And yeah I know it’s stupid, but I just gotta see it for myself
There was a bar downtown the team frequented. Steve had texted Bucky, begging him to come out and socialize with everyone. He hadn’t seen much of Steve lately, and he missed him more than he wanted to admit– but he was torn.
Bucky knew she’d be there. She was the reason Steve spent any downtime between missions away from the complex. He knew it was stupid to fixate on the fact that Steve wanted him to be there. He also knew it was stupid to want to check her out and see what she was like. But he had to see for himself.
So here he was, hands deep in the pockets of his dark jeans, walking the few blocks to the bar. He hoped the fresh air would help him clear his mind and get a hold of himself before he arrived. He was making himself sick picturing the two of them together, wrapped in each other’s arms as they laughed and danced.
I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh oh oh And I’m right over here, why can’t you see me? Oh oh oh And I’m giving it my all But I’m not the guy you’re taking home, oooh I keep dancing on my own
Summary: Steve and Bucky make an excursion to a nearby Fall Festival where one of the vendors mistakes them for a couple.
Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)
Marvel Fluff Bingo Square Filled: Mistaken for a couple
Word Count: 1201
Warnings: fluff, male on male kissing, little bit of angst if you squint, Stucky
Author’s Notes: Written for @melissavercos 600 Follower Challenge (x) (prompt: “Don’t yell at me in languages I don’t understand”), my @marvelfluffbingo card and @until-theend-oftheline Scarlet Stucky Quickie Challenge (x). If you do not want to be tagged in my Stucky fics, just let me know and I will move you to the exception list.
***My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.***
Summary: Before becoming Captain America, Steve was a scrawny and sickly young man from Brooklyn. Always by his side, and in his bed, is his best friend, his Bucky; James Barnes. The two are practically inseparable, and then, when Bucky gets drafted, Steve does everything he can think of to enlist. There was only one problem with that; the government wanted nothing to do with a scarlet and rheumatic fever surviving, asthmatic kid from Brooklyn. Don’t forget the high blood pressure and heart palpitations. One day, a man named Doctor Abraham Erskine, saw something in Steve, something that made Steve stand out in comparison to the thousands of soldiers he had previously examined. From that moment on, Steve’s life was forever changed. The serum, the war, losing a loved one; it changes a man, and Steve Rogers was no exception. Word Count: 944 Warnings for the series: Heavy angst, fluff, male-on-male sexual content, this may bear some resemblance to Fifty Shades as noted below. There is a possibility of more warnings to be added as the series progresses. Author’s Note: Inspiration provided by [X][X] GIF credit [X][X]
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
1942: After the Draft
Bucky was gone, off to fight a war that he probably wouldn’t be coming back from, and Steve felt so lost. He had already been struggling with the heavy weight of anxiety on a daily basis since he was a child, and Bucky had been the only one that could ease the pressure. Without Bucky there, it was as if Steve were spiralling, circling the drain, falling deeper into the depths of his own brain.
The one thing that wasn’t affected by Bucky going to war was Steve’s determination to enlist. He knew the government didn’t want him, that his health wasn’t an appealing trait, but he just wanted to be given the chance to prove himself.
Standing in front of an enlistment folder, staring at the large black font, panic blossomed in his chest.
“Wait here,” instructed the doctor.
“Is there a problem?” God, he hoped the doctor couldn’t hear the tremor in his voice.
“Just wait here,” was all he said before leaving the room.
He was alone for several long moments before being joined by an Enlistment Office MP. The sight of an MP could mean only one thing, Steve was to be arrested for lying on a government form. Steve gave an uneasy smile, which the MP didn’t return. Of course he wouldn’t. He was there to arrest Steve, not to make friends.
An older gentleman, one with white hair and spectacles, walked in, thanking the officer as he turned to leave.
“So, you want to go overseas,” the new arrival noted softly. Steve found his accent oddly soothing. “Kill some Nazis.”
Whatever Steve had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Excuse me?”
“Dr. Abraham Erskine,” he said, walking over to shake Steve’s hand. “I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”
Well, that couldn’t be too bad, right?
“Steve Rogers.” When Abraham said nothing more and started flipping through a manilla folder, Steve tried to make some small talk. “Where are you from?”
“Queens,” he answered quickly. “Seventy-third Street and Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany. This troubles you?”
“No,” Steve replied, shaking his head.
Abraham resumed flipping through the file. “Where are you from, Mr. Rogers, mmm? Is it New Haven?”
Steve swallowed around the knot in his throat. Shit, he really was in trouble.
“Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities,” Abraham deadpanned.
“That might not be the right file,” he lied, and not very well.
“No, it’s not the exams I’m interested in,” Abraham assured the young man before him. “It’s the five tries. But you didn’t answer my question. Do you want to kill Nazis?”
“Is this a test?” Would he be arrested if he gave the wrong answer? Who was he kidding. He was going to be arrested no matter what he said.
Abraham nodded as he answered. “Yes.”
“I don’t wanna kill anyone,” he answered quickly, hoping the doctor didn’t take the rushed answer the wrong way. “I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”
With a sigh, Abraham closed the file. “Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war. Maybe what they need now is the little guy, huh? I can offer you a chance.”
As the pair walked out of the room, Abraham reiterated, “Only a chance,” when Steve perked up.
“I’ll take it.” Steve’s heart jumped excitedly in his chest.
Abraham gave Steve a warm smile. “Good. So, where is this little guy from, actually?”
“Brooklyn,” Steve answered proudly.
Coming to a stop by the front desk, Abraham stamped Steve’s form and handed it to him. “Congratulations, soldier.”
“And the rest is well-documented history,” Steve sighed heavily.
“What about Peggy?” Clint asked after a long moment.
With a sigh, Steve gave an answer. “I loved Peggy, I still do. It’s just not the same as with Buck. Where he was the soulmate of my heart, Peggy was the soulmate of everything else.”
“That makes sense,” Clint noted.
God, Steve was so goddamn tired. He just wanted to climb into bed and go to sleep, for like, a year. Forget the missions, saving the world from another catastrophic event, Steve wanted to be left alone. But, if he was alone, then his mind started to wander, and those thoughts were always of Bucky.
Clint nudged Steve’s knee with his own. “Why don’t you get some sleep, huh, Cap? It’s been a hell of a long day.”
“Sorry, Clint,” Steve lamented. “I didn’t mean to keep you up so late.”
“No apologies, man,” he said after Steve stood with a yawn. “Anytime you need to talk, I’m here, okay?”
With a wry smile, Steve nodded. “Thank you.”
Clint clapped Steve on the shoulder before heading off to his room, leaving Steve in the dimly lit corner. With a shudder that made his chest ache, Steve made his way out of the common room, down the maze of hallways, and into his room.
Don’t something as mundane as getting undressed proved to be too much. So, Steve fell into his bed and curled around one of the pillows, buried his face in it, and let out a scream. He had worked so hard at burying everything, his grief and anger, love and sorrow, that he hadn’t been prepared to unlock the door and open it up.
Not that he really could have prepared himself, talking about something for the first time in over seventy years was going to be difficult. Throw in the fact that it was about love, a deep and all consuming love, he felt completely wrung out.
With his face in the pillow and tears streaming down his face, Steve didn’t remember falling asleep.
Summary: Before becoming Captain America, Steve was a scrawny and sickly young man from Brooklyn. Always by his side, and in his bed, is his best friend, his Bucky; James Barnes. The two are practically inseparable, and then, when Bucky gets drafted, Steve does everything he can think of to enlist. There was only one problem with that; the government wanted nothing to do with a scarlet and rheumatic fever surviving, asthmatic kid from Brooklyn. Don’t forget the high blood pressure and heart palpitations. One day, a man named Doctor Abraham Erskine, saw something in Steve, something that made Steve stand out in comparison to the thousands of soldiers he had previously examined. From that moment on, Steve’s life was forever changed. The serum, the war, losing a loved one; it changes a man, and Steve Rogers was no exception. Word Count: 1,047 Warnings for the series: Heavy angst, fluff, male-on-male sexual content, this may bear some resemblance to Fifty Shades as noted below. There is a possibility of more warnings to be added as the series progresses. Author’s Note: Inspiration provided by [X][X] GIF credit [X]
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
1942: Before the Draft
Bucky had his arm draped over Steve’s shoulder as they walked down the boardwalk. It was the sounds of children laughing and screaming, the aroma of hot dogs and cotton candy, the sun dipping down, bathing Coney Island in various shades of pinks and purples that completed the experience.
“You alright there, punk?” Bucky smirked as he looked down at Steve.
Steve’s head was hung, blonde hair obscuring his eyes. “My stomach is still upset.”
Bucky couldn’t help it, he started laughing. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured.
“It’s okay,” Steve said with a shrug. “I’m just happy I didn’t puke on anyone.”
“Did you want to head home?” As much as Bucky wanted to stay, maybe win a few prizes for his best friend, he wouldn’t force Steve to do anything he didn’t want to.
Steve was incredibly worn down after the long day on the boardwalk, add in the fact that he had gotten sick to his stomach after going The Cyclone at Bucky’s insistence. He couldn’t blame Bucky, though. How could he have known that Steve was going to throw up afterwards?
“You wouldn’t be upset?” Steve inquired softly.
Bucky moved to stand in front of Steve, a hand on his shoulder. “A’course not. You’re not feeling well, and I don’t want to do anything that will make you feel worse. It’s your decision.”
With a lopsided smile, Steve’s stomach flipped lazily at the sparkle in Bucky’s azure eyes. “How ‘bout a walk on the beach?”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
The walk wasn’t as long as Bucky would have liked, but seeing Steve, without his shoes on, pants rolled up to his knees, wading through the surf, made up for it. God, he was head over heels in love with Steve. He just wished he could shout it from the rooftops without the fear of other people’s strong opinions and harsh actions. Bucky had seen firsthand what it was like for homosexuals in 1942. It didn’t so much scare him what people would say and do to him, he could handle it, but Stevie was small and sickly, unable to fight off the oppressors and hatred from one person, let alone a horde of them.
After fifteen minutes, Steve was yawning and scraping a hand over his face.
“Come on, punk,” Bucky insisted. “Let’s go home.”
The cab ride was an indulgence, neither Steve nor Bucky made a lot of money, but it was worth it for Bucky. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed soon after the car pulled away from the curb. Rather than wake him when they arrived at their apartment, and after handing over several bills, Bucky collected Steve in his arms, gently kicked the door closed, and headed up several flights of stairs.
Once Bucky had Steve down to his boxers, he slid Steve between the sheets, watching as he sighed happily, a content smile tugging at his lips. Despite being tired, and wanting nothing more than to crawl in next to Steve, Bucky stole one of Steve’s asthma cigarettes and went outside.
After two long pulls, Bucky could feel the belladonna already taking hold; the large moon was too bright and he gripped the railing to keep from toppling to the side as the wood beneath him shifted.
Goddamn, these are strong. No wonder Stevie has to lie down afterwards.
He only took two more drags before stubbing it out and heading back in, discarding the rest of it in the trash. After gulping down a large glass of water, Bucky turned off the lights and stripped down to his boxers. He was careful as he climbed into bed, curling around Steve’s small frame with a contented sigh.
Steve murmured something as he turned, molding himself to Bucky, draping an arm over his side. Bucky pushed the hair from Steve’s face and pressed a kiss to his forehead, smirking when Steve tipped his head back, his lips seeking out Bucky’s. The kiss was lazy and calm, deep and probing.
Pulling back for air, Steve pressed a hand to Bucky’s chest. “I love ya, Buck.” Steve could proclaim his love every minute of every day, and Bucky would never tire of hearing those words.
“I love ya, too, punk.”
“I just… I miss him, Clint,” Steve sniffled loudly, his signing stuttering only slightly.
“Of course you do, Cap,” Clint lamented. “It’s been decades since you’ve seen him, since you’ve been with him.”
Steve swiped a hand over his face, grunting in frustration at the emotions rolling through him; grief, resentment, anger, loss. He hated that he couldn’t get control of himself, that all he could think about was the last time he had seen Bucky was as he fell from the train. Steve had tried so hard to get to him in time. He had serum running through his veins, enhancing everything about him, including his speed, and yet, he couldn’t make it to Bucky in time. Bucky was dead, and it was all his fault.
“If only I had… I had tried harder,” he choked out.
Clint was shaking his head, a parental flash in his eyes. “No, Steve. You can’t do that. It’s not your fault.”
When Steve didn’t… couldn’t answer, Clint pushed up from the chair and gripped Steve’s shoulder. “It’s not,” he said with one hand.
“I wish I could believe you.” Tears were streaming down Steve’s face and his shoulders were shaking.
“One day you will,” Clint assured him before wrapping Steve in his arms, offering him the only comfort he could physically give at that moment in time.
They were words that Steve had heard thousands of times before, but somehow, hearing them from a close friend, someone that never judged him for loving another man, it helped relieve the overwhelming amount of pressure in his chest.
Homosexuality was considered a crime in 1942. So, Steve was used to keeping secrets from everyone around him; closest friends included. It didn’t matter that he woke up over seventy years later where it was – not completely, but much more – acceptable than when he and Bucky were together, Steve never opened up about his sexuality; Clint was the first person he had told.
Steve gave up fighting the grief and gave in, crumbling in Clint’s comforting embrace.
Always by his side, and in his bed, is his best friend, his Bucky; James Barnes. The two are practically inseparable, and then, when Bucky gets drafted, Steve does everything he can think of to enlist. There was only one problem with that; the government wanted nothing to do with a scarlet and rheumatic fever surviving, asthmatic kid from Brooklyn. Don’t forget the high blood pressure and heart palpitations. One day, a man named Doctor Abraham Erskine, saw something in Steve, something that made Steve stand out in comparison to the thousands of soldiers he had previously examined. From that moment on, Steve’s life was forever changed. The serum, the war, losing a loved one; it changes a man, and Steve Rogers was no exception. Word Count: 969 Warnings for the series: Heavy angst, fluff, male-on-male sexual content, this may bear some resemblance to Fifty Shades as noted below. There is a possibility of more warnings to be added as the series progresses. Author’s Note: Inspiration provided by [X][X] GIF Credit [X]
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
1942
Steve was sitting at the table, one leg bouncing erratically, the other gripped by his own hand, and if he didn’t get his heart to stop skipping beats, he’d have to go to the hospital, again. He couldn’t afford that, not when he knew he’d be living on his own soon enough.
According to the sheet of paper Bucky was holding in his hand, he had just been drafted into the war to end all wars; World War II. 32557038, that was Bucky’s draft number. Steve had only heard it once, and it was already seared into his brain.
“Bucky,” he sighed, his thin shoulders sagging.
“- be fine without me,” Bucky was rambling.
His lover’s borderline-excited tone was making Steve anxious. “Bucky, stop.”
“- gone that long,” he droned on.
Steve squeezed his eyes shut, pushing the tears down his gaunt cheeks. “I’m beggin’ ya, Buck.”
“- war’s almost over, and then -”
“Bucky, shut up,” Steve shouted. “Please, just… stop talkin’.”
The paper slipped from Bucky’s hand as he took in the appearance of Steve. “Oh, Stevie,” he purred, dropping to his knees, between Steve’s legs. “Don’t cry, baby.”
Steve leaned into Bucky’s touch, his large hands almost encompassing Steve’s face. “It’s war, Buck,” he choked, gripping onto Bucky’s wrists. “If somethin’ happens to ya -” He was silenced with a kiss full of pride and good intentions.
“Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me, baby,” Bucky vowed, a glimmer in his eyes.
“What about me, huh?” Steve demanded to know. “If you’re over there, and I’m all alone, who’s gonna… what am I to do? I can’t work, not a proper job, and I can’t enlist, no matter how many times I try.”
Bucky’s pupils constricted the slightest at that. “Wait… you’re still trying to enlist? Who were you trying to pass off as this time?” It was Bucky’s turn to be upset, pissed off, sad.
While Steve had miraculously survived his never ending string of health issues, there was an ache in the pit of Bucky’s stomach whenever Steve gasped for air during an asthma attack, or when his heart was ramming inside his chest, skipping beats as if dancing to an unheard song, or like last night, when he started coughing, seemingly unable to stop.
His mother had died from tuberculosis, and Bucky worried every time Steve coughed, that blood would start dripping from his lips. Succumbing to one of the many ailments Steve lived with was one thing. Willingly putting himself in harm’s way in order to prove a point was something else entirely. Talk about ironic.
Steve shook his head free of Bucky’s hands. “It doesn’t matter, they don’t want me. Nobody wants me,” he said in a harsh whisper, tears clouding his vision.
“Hey,” Bucky huffed. “I want you. Don’t I count?”
“You’re leavin’, Buck,” Steve shot back with a sniffle. “Gettin’ as far away from me as you can get.”
Bucky ground his teeth in frustration. “I ain’t leavin’ ya, kid. I got drafted. I didn’t choose this.”
“But I know you,” Steve said sadly, his head shaking back and forth. “I know that you want to be over there.”
“So do you,” Bucky bit out. “Look, I just… I don’t want to fight with you, Stevie.”
Steve pressed his forehead to Bucky’s before asking, “When do you ship out?”
“Too soon,” was all Bucky said before kissing Steve sweetly.
“Buck,” Steve whined, shifting closer to the man between his legs.
Bucky cupped Steve’s face and shook his head. “It’s not important right now. You are,” he cooed, smearing his lips across Steve’s.
With a shuddering sigh, Steve pressed himself to Bucky, deepening the kiss when Bucky’s tongue swept over his bottom lip. Bucky’s moan was low and heavy with desperation. His hands were on the small of Steve’s back and between his shoulder blades, holding Steve’s much smaller frame to him as he pushed off the floor.
Steve’s legs wrapped around Bucky’s waist of their own accord as Bucky crossed the room to the bed that was tucked into the corner. Once there, Steve slid down slowly, thanks in part to Bucky’s hands. The strength in the long digits drove a shudder down Steve’s spine, one that made Bucky’s cock jump.
“Steve,” he groaned, careful not to hurt his lover as Bucky hurriedly removed Steve’s clothes. His own quickly followed suit, the two men’s ragged breathing filling the small space between them.
There was a hand on Steve’s shoulder, but it wasn’t Bucky’s. “Hey, Steve,” Clint signed. “You alright, man?”
The memory disappeared in a swirl of smoke, leaving every part of Steve aching. He sniffled softly and scraped a hand over his face before signing back. “Yeah, just… just thinkin’.”
Steve pulled in a deep breath, and it was like a punch to the gut. He could smell Bucky as if they were standing in front of one another, as if the last time they had seen each other wasn’t more than seventy years ago.
“About Buck?” Clint wondered.
Steve huffed out a chuckle. “Is it that obvious?”
“You’ve got a major case of heart eyes goin’ on,” Clint joked, cracking a wide smile.
“Shuddup,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.
Clint tapped Steve’s hands to get his attention, his expression now serious. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He was already shaking his head. “No, that’s okay.”
“Let me rephrase that,” Clint insisted. “Do you need to talk about it?”
“Probably,” Steve sighed wearily. “But we just got back. You should go home, see your wife and kids.”
“I’ll leave in the morning,” Clint argued, his brows furrowed. “Right now, I’m not moving from this spot until you talk to me.”
After several long moments, Steve conceded. “We should probably sit down. This is going to take a while.”
Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Reader x Bucky Barnes
Word Count: 2071
Warnings: drinking, asshole ex-boyfriend, explicit language, protective!Stucky, Stucky kisses, polyamorous relationship, mentions of being drugged
Author’s Notes: So, I combined two requests (in my Stucky x reader requests) together. 1) reader and the boys go on a night out (or maybe Tony has one of his famous soirées) and her drink gets spiked? Requested by @fireyegale2) you bump into an abusive ex and the boys don’t understand why you become all stiff and uncomfortable (they don’t know about that part of your life), until he tries talking to you and you tell him he isn’t meant to be anywhere near you. The boys go instantly into defense mode. PLEASE NOTE: If you do not want to be tagged in future installments, send me an ask or message. I will continue to tag my Forevers, my Steve tag list, and my Bucky tag list, but I’m happy to remove you from tags on this series. If you want to be added to the Two for One tag list, let me know.
***My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.***
Summary: After years of struggling to overcome his seemingly endless list of addictions, Steve Rogers has been clean & sober for one year. In an effort to remain clean, to prove to himself that he can overcome his demons, he takes on the responsibility of becoming a sponsor. It’s wrong for a sponsor to feel a personal attachment to the ones they are sponsoring, but apparently Steve didn’t get that memo. Bucky Barnes’ downfall was cocaine, he couldn’t keep his nose clean if his life depended on it. After overdosing for the third time, a judge ordered him to ‘get clean, or go to jail.’ Narcotics Anonymous wasn’t really Bucky’s thing, that was until he saw the blonde haired, blue eyed God that was going to be his sponsor. Will Steve be able to separate his feelings from the addiction? Can Bucky overcome his primal urges and keep things professional? Word Count: 1,316 Warnings for series: Illicit & casual drug use, explicit language, alcohol abuse, explicit sexual language, male receiving anal sex, male receiving oral sex, explicit sexual content, heavy angst, masturbation, possibly more to come Author’s Note: This is going to be strictly a Stucky fic. There will be no reader involved. I wouldn’t be writing this without the unwavering support of @captain-rogers-beard & @climbthatmooselikeatree I love you.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
Steve hunkered down in his apartment for the next week. He called in sick to work, even went so far as to skip the weekly meeting. He should have felt bad about it, but he didn’t, not with his hand around his leaking dick. In his mind’s eye, Bucky was the one that was stroking him, swallowing around him, gagging, tears streaming down his face, begging for more.
He shouldn’t get rock-hard just at the notion of seeing Bucky again, or hearing his gravelly voice, let alone if Bucky were to say his name. Christ, he would lose it right then. Although, would it really be so bad?
Bucky had been calling Steve, leaving a string of text messages, asking if Steve was okay, if Bucky had done something to upset him. Steve should have answered straight away, he was being a shitty sponsor by not doing so. Only problem was, he couldn’t bring himself to have a quasi-normal conversation with the chestnut-haired man.
Then there were the phone calls from Clint.
“Something’s going on, man,” Clint insisted. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
“I’m fine, brother,” Steve gasped, the breath tearing in and out of him from yet another round of masturbating.
“Uh huh. Why are you out of breath?” he demanded to know.
“Just got in from running.” The words were out of him before he could even think of what to say.
Clint scoffed loudly. “You know I don’t believe a goddamn word you’re saying right now.”
“You really think I care?” Steve groaned, disconnecting the call.
That was three days ago, and Steve still hadn’t left the apartment. Well, that’s not entirely true. He left to get smokes and more laundry detergent. He had both of the small machines going shortly after returning. Two minutes later, someone was knocking on his door.
“Go away, Clint,” he snarled, a cigarette notched between his lips, his eyes rolling back.
“Steve?”
That was most definitely not Clint’s voice. Clint’s rasp never made Steve shudder in anticipation. No, this was a much deeper voice that Steve knew all too well. Steve’s heart was in his throat as he approached the door, his hand shaking as he reached for the door chain lock. Another round of knocks made him jump back.
“Just a sec,” he ground out. Steve ran his hands through his hair and risked a glance in the mirror. Shit, he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. Whatever, it was what it was.
Bucky was on the other side of the door, his eyes full of worry. His hair was pulled back, the strands damp from the rain. “Jesus, ‘bout time you let me know you ain’t dead,” he huffed as he pushed his way into the apartment, seemingly on high alert, his eyes scanning Steve’s dark apartment.
Steve pulled in a deep breath that was full of Bucky, and fuck, it made his mouth water.
“I ain’t using,” he said for the hundredth time. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“I know what usin’ looks like,” Bucky said, turning to face his sponsor, eyes dark, jaw tense. “And you don’t look clean. What are you on?”
Steve raked a hand through his tousled hair and shook his head. “Nothin’, man. I swear.”
Bucky stepped into Steve’s airspace and glared at him. “Do I need to find a new sponsor?”
“Please don’t,” he murmured, the words falling from his mouth before he could even think of stopping them. Steve sucked in a shuddering breath, hoping that words would come with the rush of air, but they didn’t; they hung there like dust particles, shimmering in the rays of light, swirling about as you pushed your hand through them.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Bucky wasn’t asking because he was accusing Steve of anything, not really.
The truth was, Bucky was tired of hiding his feelings for Steve. Sure, they had practically just met, but Steve was intoxicating to be around. He was funny and smart, he didn’t take himself too seriously, there was no giant ego, and good goddamn, he was built like a shit brickhouse. Bucky wanted to get his hands on the man and explore every inch of his body.
When Steve didn’t say anything, Bucky stepped into his personal space, the air between them thickening. “Tell me, Steve,” he implored, his fingers twitching as he struggled to not reach for Steve.
Staring into Bucky’s azure eyes and decided at that very moment that he could no longer give into his fantasy, Steve gripped the back of Bucky’s neck and kissed him, hard, urgently, as if his very life depended on it. Fearing he had read the minute signs from Bucky all wrong, Steve wasn’t expecting Bucky to return the kiss. So, when he did, Steve let go of the moan in the back of his throat.
Bucky pushed himself into the kiss, grabbing onto Steve’s narrow waist, tugging him close. Shoes and clothes were discarded as Steve directed Bucky toward the couch, his desperation to taste Bucky was becoming too much, threatening to consume him from the inside out. Before he could blink, he was on his knees, between Bucky’s thighs, sucking Bucky deep into the back of his throat, the bittersweet pre-cum tasting like heaven on his tongue.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Bucky praised, his voice gritty, his hand in Steve’s hair.
The blood in Steve’s veins surged at the words, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He was all-too-happy to oblige to Bucky’s hand on the back of his head, urging him down further until his nose was buried in Bucky’s chestnut curls.
“Yesssss,” groaned Bucky, his head falling back as Steve’s throat constricted tighter than before.
Bucky had gotten head many times, but nobody really knew what they were doing, and then he met Steve. The talent that lay in Steve’s lips and tongue was unparalleled to anything Bucky’s experienced. It was as if Steve was psychic and knew exactly what Bucky liked.
He spread his legs and pistoned his hips, thoroughly fucking Steve’s mouth, encouraged by the way Steve was furiously pumping his own cock. Bucky hadn’t wanted to cum in Steve’s mouth the first time they fucked, but he couldn’t stop himself. With a low and heavy grunt of Steve’s name, his cock pulsed as he jammed it down Steve’s throat one more time, holding him there until Steve had swallowed every last drop.
With a weary grin, Steve sat back, gasping for air, his thick cock weeping, a blush coloring his skin under the intensity of Bucky’s gaze.
“Look at you,” Bucky purred, sliding off the couch and onto Steve’s thighs. “You’re ready to burst, aren’t you?”
Steve couldn’t bite back the obscene moan as Bucky’s hand took the place of his. “Fuck yes.”
Bucky gripped the back of Steve’s neck, his hand working over Steve’s cock, smearing the fat beads of pre-cum, his lips brushing against Steve’s. “Come on, baby,” he urged, rocking their bodies together. “Show me what you got.”
As their bodies moved together, Steve gripped Bucky’s ass as they kissed, as Bucky’s hand glided along, pushing Steve closer to his release. Steve ripped his mouth away to watch himself get fucked. The breath was tearing in and out of him, mingling intoxicatingly well with Bucky’s.
“Shitshitshit,” Steve panted, his shoulders shuddering, thighs flexing.
If it was possible, Bucky stroked him faster, rocking their bodies harder. “Cum for me, Stevie.”
Steve’s head fell back as he came, bursts of light blinding him, the air in his lungs held hostage, every muscle going taut. Bucky dipped his head down and sucked a dark mark onto Steve’s pulse point, nipping at it in a way that made Steve’s hips jerk and his nails dig into Bucky’s ass.
The two men rolled to the floor, tangled together, and all Steve could think was, Jesus, what a fucking rush.
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