Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Can I die?

The thought had been swirling through Bob’s head more and more recently. The idea itself was not new, but the framing certainly was. For so long it had been a desire, almost bordering on blissful need. 

I want to…

Let me…

Anything could be better than this.

Luckily, he had never had that particular wish fulfilled and through truly strange circumstances, things had gotten better. He had friends, people who liked him, and wanted him to stick around. There were of course others who had said the same but it had always gotten too difficult for them. These people, the Thunderbolts, had dove headfirst into the darkness that had been his closest companion and pulled him right out. He wasn’t too much for them to handle and this despite the fact if he had continued on his former path, he would’ve pulled the entire planet into a never ending void. He had been indestructible, invincible, an eventuality. But now he wasn’t. He was Bob once again, but it was still his body, his power, even if he couldn't use it.

It was this realization that had him coming back to the question; was it even possible to die anymore, even if he never invoked the Sentry’s power ever again? A particularly macabre topic to mull over but he couldn’t help it and it came out in full force during movie night. 

Team building was important Bucky had stressed and that went beyond missions so they couldn’t just stay sequestered in their rooms in between assignments. They had to do things together. His initial suggestion of the movie night had invoked snark from Walker, dismissal from Ava, teasing approval from Yelena and full throated approval from Alexei. Bob had said nothing but it was something that excited him deep within himself. 

He wasn’t allowed to go on missions for obvious reasons and outside of training from Yelena and his frequent excursions through NYC, he spent a lot of time by himself. A team movie night with him there meant he was part of the team too, even if only really on a technicality. 

So here they were all squashed onto the half circular couch opposite the giant holo screen in the center room of HQ. It had taken nearly an hour just for them to decide what movie to watch. Surprise, surprise the All American Asshole Walker and Russia’s Falling Star Alexei had such differing tastes that they were most hard headed when making a decision. 

The compromise had been two movies instead of one. Walker had chosen Raging Bull while Alexei had chosen The Cranes are Flying a movie Bob had literally never heard of. This wasn’t surprising because it was Russian and was a drama about a woman staving off the advances of her lover’s draft dodging cousin after they were separated, as he had to go to the front lines during WWII. It was surprisingly well done, despite being in black and white and fully in a different language, but the previous pre-movie arguing and Walker’s movie choice had drained Bob of so much of his energy, he was struggling to stay awake.

He sat with Ava to his right who had, frankly, scary good posture. She had been nearly still the past 3 hours and Bucky to his left, who was smidge more relaxed, with his arm resting on the top of the couch just behind Bob’s own head. Making an executive decision based on safety alone, he tried to angle himself so that if he fell asleep he would lean towards Bucky and not Ava the living statue.

It was during a particularly tense argument that he could no longer keep his eyes open and embraced the darkness of slumber. When he opened his eyes he expected to see more of the same, frenetic Russian people debating the nature of loneliness. Instead he was in a bedroom of a modest size, with the large king sized bed taking up most of the space. He could feel the mattress give immensely as he rose from it. The whole space was awash in browns, thick, heavy and dark for the curtains and armoire and lighter with swirling patterns on the bed spread itself. The whole space was lit with a few candles on end tables, the candles and tables both the same color of amber. Strange. In fact, it was so strange that Bob finally realized what was happening. This was a dream.

He was no stranger to lucid dreams. When he was younger they were his greatest reprieve of his day to day suffering. The waking world was always a tougher nightmare than the space of dreams. There was a near infinite amount of places he could go and see in this place but he didn’t really have the drive for that right now. He sunk further into the soft comfy bed. Could he go to sleep in a dream? Where would that take him?

The answer to that question never came as the door on the far wall-which he was pretty sure didn’t exist until this very moment-opened to reveal the last person Bob expected. 

“Captain America?” Bob squeaked out.

There he was. Captain America aka Sam Wilson. Two names that were guaranteed to get a scowl out of Bucky if you said them around him. Well, a deeper scowl than usual.

“You can just call me Cap or Sam, if you want.” Sam responded with a gleam in his eyes.

Unlike Bucky, Sam was all smirk. He stood big in the door in a very thin red sweater, his arms bulging without even flexing and sitting very tight across his large chest. He wore red slacks of the same color like Santa Clause if he was younger, and hot, and black and mostly clean shaven. So not very much like Santa at all.

“Uh, ok,” Bob responded. He could feel himself squirming which didn’t make a whole lot of sense because he wasn't real. This was a dream . He couldn’t hurt him in any meaningful way.

Dream or not Sam had clearly noticed. “Hey, are you nervous?”

“No,” he responded with far too much urgency. He could fix that. “Nope, nah, no way.” Mission. Failed.

Sam crossed his arms, his face conveying disbelief. “Hmmm…right.”

Bob gave up. He could only shrug and gesture at the two of them. “It’s just this kind of awkward.”

“Why? Because you’re in my room?”

“Wait, this is your room?” he yelped. Dream scenarios didn’t often surprise Bob like this. They often revolved around him and any information he needed to adjust or adapt he just…knew. This situation felt different. 

Sam chuckled at that. “Yeah and you look plenty comfortable all up in my bed.”

Bob began shuffling towards the left side of the bed. “Sorry I can get up.”

“You’re all good Goldilocks, you can stay there if you want. It is pretty comfortable.” Sam assured him. The tone was kind, clearly amused but something about it rubbed him the wrong way.

“Bob,” he corrected, though he did stop getting up. Sam was right. The bed really was spongy in the best way. 

Sam looked befuddled, but not offended. “I’m sorry?” 

“My name is-is Bob,” he repeated with a little more conviction. “Sorry I’m just not the biggest fan of nicknames. Plus I look terrible blond.” He shook his wavy brown hair as if he could make the light color show up on his head to prove his point. In normal dreams he probably could’ve. 

Sam nodded like it all made perfect sense. “Bob it is then. So Bob, can I come in?” He tapped on the door frame to emphasize the point.

“You’re asking me if you can come into your room?” The ridiculousness of the ask was kind of funny. 

“Well, I don't want to be rude.”

“Are you a vampire?” Bob suddenly asked. He was reminded of an old dream where he had been a vampire hunter and had been cornered. 

The question clearly took Sam back a bit as his eyebrows rose high on his head. His voice took on a poor eastern european quality like a shoddy imitation of Alexei and he curled his fingers like he had claws . “If you let me in, I can show you.”

“That felt a little offensive to vampires to be honest.”

Sam dropped the bit, putting a hand on his hip. “Right? I’ve been to Romania too. I should know better.” He gave Bob a truly toothy grin, his tongue gliding across the top row. “See? All 32, no fangs. Am I all clear?”

 “Works for me,” Bob replied.

Sam made a bit of a spectacle of the invitation, taking one large step inside looking down at his feet as if expecting flames up around his person giving Bob a wink when nothing happened. “Thanks for that.” The wink made his stomach do a flip. What happened next made him flip a dozen more times.

He began to strip, the thin sweater peeling off his body with ease showing off his chest and arms in its fullness. The candle light danced across his dark skin. He was hairless with small pointed nipples at the end of some of the biggest pecs had seen in person. It wasn’t even fair to really call them pecs. They were tits plain and simple. Gravity was doing their best to drag them down but they still sat fairly high. Bob’s hands gripped the soft bedding imagining what it would be like to just…grab them. Just one squeeze. He would be gentle. Sam had been so polite to him so far. He could definitely be courteous back. 

Bob had been so distracted, he didn’t even notice that Sam was fully naked except for a pair of red briefs until he sat on the edge of the bed. “You want to do a whole song and dance about me getting in my bed as well?”

Bob moved like there was a fire up his ass to give the very naked, very hot man as much space as possible. “No need, it’s all yours.”

He fully moved on to the bed, laying comfortably on the right side, a hand behind his head and a pillow behind that, the picture of casual. “You can move back, you know. There’s no need for you to fall off.”

He slowly moved back on to the bed proper sitting crosslegged on his side. Though he tried to keep a pillow's worth of space between them the give of the bed was working against them drawing the two closer. 

Sam frowned at him. “Bob, do I scare you? You have every right to feel however you want about me but have I done something to make you uncomfortable?”

Is this what it felt like to disappoint Captain America? What a shitty fucking feeling. “No it’s not that,” Bob answered.

How could he explain this? It wasn’t Sam, it was him. He didn’t get crushes easily, not in dreams and certainly not in reality. But Sam was so earnest and a little goofy and had an insane body and they were sharing a bed together. That meant things and because this wasn't real, it could mean a whole host of things. He found well enough of an answer. “Sorry I’m just kind of an awkward guy but I am definitely not afraid of you trust me. I’m more afraid of myself than anyone else.” He tried to end his statement with a chuckle but Sam wasn’t buying it. 

His gaze was still mostly open, if not a little dubious at his claim. “You said that earlier, that our meeting should be awkward, you want to explain why?” 

Bob glanced at the closed bedroom door. “Do I have to?”

Sam finally got up and joined him crossed legged on the bed. They were even closer now which meant his tits, that Bob was definitely not looking at, were as well. “No, your story is your own but I’m always willing to hear someone out and I am a little curious how you ended up here.”

Telling figments of his imagination that they were just that didn’t always work out. Often it felt like the Matrix where if he brought it up they would try and kill him and then he would end up waking up. He had a feeling that Sam wouldn’t, but better safe than sorry. “Well you’re Captain America and I’m a New Avenger so…” It felt like ripping off a bandaid and he tensed anticipation of the pain. 

It never came. In fact Sam merely sighed and then laughed. “So y’all are recruiting now? Bold. Very bold.”

His lack of a response spurred Bob on. “Not exactly. I’ve been there from the beginning. I’m not officially on the team but I live in the Watchtower. Honestly I’m not a big fan of the name.” To the wider world, they, well the others, were the New Avengers. Everyone internally, save Alexei, preferred the Thunderbolts and Bob liked that designation much better. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about invoking that other team’s name that made him feel uncomfortable. It made the darkness within him itch. 

“I agree,” Sam said wryly. “Living in the Watchtower huh? Rent must be expensive.”

Bob smiled at that. “Maybe. I get free room and board. I just have to do chores sometimes like the dishes..”

“You’re a real hero then,” Sam declared. “You said you’re not officially on the team. Do you want to be?”

Bob frowned. “Yeah but I’m dangerous.”

Sam clearly looked him up and down. Bob felt warm at his roaming gaze. It felt safe to do the same to Sam. His eyes felt strangely endless. His goatee was clean. He could see his bulge even clearer than before. Was he really that big while being soft? A chill went down his spine as another ran through his mind. Maybe he wasn’t soft at all. Maybe something about him, Bob, was getting him excited. 

It was clear thank god Sam could not read his thoughts as he said dubiously. “You are aware that the other members of that team are killers, right? Exonerated but still. You’re more dangerous than even them?”

The candles flickered unforeseen shadows across the room. The chill that was in his body now felt like frost on the tips of Bob’s fingertips. It was less exciting and more foreboding. He swallowed before responding. “Yeah. Much more dangerous. Dangerous or useless. My two modes.” He chuckled again, hopeful that it would be more effective the second time around. It wasn't. 

Sam held his hands out palms up, a silent invitation in his movement. Bob placed his hands in Sam’s and the frost seemed to melt in real time as he grasped them. “You’re not useless.” Sam said. The words felt so warm and stern as if he was trying to push the words through their contact. Bob could almost believe it.

“Like you just told me,” Sam continued. “You did the dishes.”

Bob quickly rolled his eyes. “Yeah I guess.”

He tried to take his hands back but Sam didn’t let go and he was strangely grateful for that.  “Bob, I’m not joking. You contributed to the team. You might view that as inconsequential but it’s not. This world is a house of cards. Everything affects everything else. Do you know what would happen if every person whose responsibility was to wash some dishes just didn’t? It would all come crashing down.”

“Not at the Watchtower,” Bob rebutted, but there was no strength in it. A secret part of him just wanted Sam to continue talking.

His wish was granted soon enough. “It’s so hard to see our value in the grand picture of life but it does make a difference. I promise you. You are a part of that picture. An important part. You make a difference. You are valuable.”

Sam’s eyes were dark brown and so precious for it. His intense gaze was nearly impossible to turn away from. He could only glance down from his eyes to his nose to his lips. They were closer than ever now as if the bed itself was hugging them tight. He was almost about to fall in Sam’s lap. 

Bob barely spoke above a whisper, scared the sound would escape from this space they occupied. “This is kind of forward but can I kiss you?”

The smirk was back, the jokester part of this man who had stared into the abyss of his spirit and seemed so unafraid. “Would that ease some of this tension between us?”

His heart was pounding and his palms felt so sweaty but Sam didn’t seem to mind. “I think so”

“Good enough for me.” He moved first because of course. He leaned forwards, his right hand moving to cup Bob’s neck and face, palm hot as fire, scorching in its pleasure. Bob followed suit tilting his head waiting for their lips to touch and to burn away completely in an inferno of affirmation. But the conflagration never came. 

The bedroom door swung open with a bang and they both turned towards the intruder. 

Bucky stood there solely in a pair of swimming trunks, anger turning his face into something uglier than Bob had ever seen. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Bob woke up with a jump. The world was muffled, he felt drool at the corner of his mouth and black and white dots clouded his vision. Sound came back first. 

There was yelling, from Walker of course. “-fuck do you mean that’s how it ends!!?”

Of course Alexei responded at the same volume. "Do not blame me that you can not handle the beautiful works of Soviet Russia!”

“You made me watch a commie film???” Walker responded, even louder than before.

Yelena spoke up then much quieter. “Did anyone else hear the way he said commie? It was very…pointed.”

“Spoken like a true American patriot, of course,” Ava added in that smooth accent of hers. 

Bob’s vision returned by then and with it his faculties and more importantly his memories. He touched the sides of his face to feel for hands that were no longer there. But there was still Bucky, fully clothed now with the same exact expression that he had a second ago in the dream.

“So,” he growled. “You want to answer my question now?” 

Could he die? Bob suspected he would learn the answer very soon. 

Chapter Text

Movie night was over, thank god, and everyone was so wrapped up in the spectacle of Walker and Alexei’s arguing that no one called out when Bucky silently left the room. There was, of course, one person who very much noticed but he wasn’t talking right now and for good reason. It was in Bob’s personal interest and wellbeing to not say a damn thing at the moment. Bucky had always kept a bit of a distance between he and the hanger-on of the Thunderbolts. It wasn’t necessarily personal. It was his power. 

The strength, invincibility, the flight. That was all fine. It was the other thing. That darkness that lived in him that could pull you right in. He had dark corners of his mind. He had done a pretty good job at confronting many, overcoming them so they would not overcome him. Bob could undo all of that in an instant. But time had passed and he had become relaxed. He had convinced himself the guy was harmless. Skittish, kind of a dick sometimes, but ultimately had a good heart. And then he had let him fall asleep on his shoulder. 

He could still feel the effects. The smell of the ocean on the breeze, the strong Caribbean humidity that made even breathing feel a little wet, the sense of peace. Not because of the place, but because of who he was sharing it with. 

He looked out from the cabana to the rolling waves of the crystalline blue ocean. How had they found this place? It was unreal. He was about to take a step on to the soft grass that would eventually lead to the sandy beach when he heard a voice call out. “Hey where are you going?”

Sam had emerged from one of the two bedrooms in the house, a bottle of something in his hand.

“I’m gonna start the trek back home, where do you think I’m going?,” he replied sarcastically.

“Don’t forget your shoes then,” Sam responded back just as sarcastically. He shook the bottle he was holding. “Plus your sunscreen.”

Bucky frowned. “I don’t need sunscreen.”

“You’re walking out shirtless in like 90 degree heat and you’re pastier than one of Casper’s suspiciously single uncles. You need the sunscreen.”

He was shirtless? He looked down to see he was, only wearing his dog tags and a pair of navy blue swimming trunks. Sam was dressed similarly except his trunks were deep red. 

“I’m a super soldier,” he continued arguing.

“Yeah and unless you want to be a super soldier with skin cancer, you’ll stop pushing back on me about this and use. It.” Sam emphasized the final two words by tapping the sunscreen twice against his chest. His face was no nonsense. This was one of those moments where he wasn’t going to let it go. 

“Fine,” he muttered, grabbing the tube from his hand. “Whoever heard of a super soldier with cancer anyway?” He squeezed a big white dollop into his hand and began spreading it haphazardly up and down his chest. Then squeezed another dollop to for his legs. When he straightened up, he caught Sam’s eye. He was staring at him in a way that made his heart begin to beat a little faster. He seemed to be flitting from white streak to white streak across his body. They had enjoyed stares like these at each other before but normally one or both of them looked away if it ever lingered for more than a second. Several seconds seemed to pass this time around. 

“Your back,” Sam said.

“Huh?” He hadn’t realized he had damn near froze under Sam’s appreciative staring.

“Don’t forget your back.”

“Right.” He flexed his sticky right hand as if it could jolt his mind into higher gear or at least his mouth. 

Sam rolled his eyes and sucked in his teeth. “Man, you are impossible. Here give me the bottle.” 

He let Sam take the tube, still slightly confused as to what was happening, until he felt the slight chill of the cream begin to make its way down his back, being warmed almost instantly by Sam’s heavy touch. He moved up and down the length of his back like he was painting a room each time getting so low he almost was touching the shorts. It was at that moment he realized that he was not wearing underwear and was tenting the shorts only a little, but enough to be obvious. And there was nothing he could do to avoid Sam seeing it aside from simply willing it away

“Alright you’re good now,” Sam said walking back in front of him. “Wanna do me?”

He feel his mouth losing its moisture in real time. “What?”

“My back,” he said as if that answer was obvious. He even pointed behind himself just in case Bucky needed a reminder about various parts of the body. 

Without waiting for prompting, Sam gave him the tube and turned around showing off his impressive backside. Broad shoulders that led to a narrow waist that led to a fat ass that was utterly devouring the thin material of his trunks. Bucky's boner could no longer be willed away. But it was ok. He just had to…work around it. 

“Im waiting,” Sam said in a singsongy voice. 

He kept his composure as best as he could squeezing a dollop of the sunscreen into his palm and began rubbing it in. He was haphazard about it, up and down his spine and the expanse besides. He knew that and unfortunately it was more for his sake than Sam’s. His skin was so warm that he itched to keep his hand there for as long as possible. He was making good progress until he reached his traps. There was a large knot on the right shoulder and he massaged at it almost instinctively and Sam let out a delicious moan. 

When he moved away trying his best to ignore the sound, Sam spoke up. Damn him. “Hey man, can you go back to that spot? Just for a second.”

He took a dry gulp. “Yeah no problem.” He moved his hand back to the knot rubbing at it again and it was like a button on the machine that was Sam Wilson. The secret to so much noise.

“Oh…yeah…god that feels good.” he let out. “Can you get the other one too?”

He too was a machine, unwilling to do anything but exactly what Sam had demanded of him. His cybernetic hand joined his flesh one and began to massage his shoulders probably, smoothing out the rough knots that sat so high in his body. Some of which he was sure he was the cause of, and others the stress of being Sam. The burden that Captain America experienced.

But this had to end. It simply had to. “Just tell me when to stop,” he choked out.

Sam shook his head and his voice was so breathy, it was almost unfair. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” The ministrations of his palms had Sam bending over on the counter and Bucky as a consequence was forced to move closer to keep contact. Never lose contact. Now he was so he could feel it. The thing he had been so desperate to avoid. Those soft round cheeks rubbing against his boner. There were trunks between them but they were thin, so thin it was like they were nude.

“Sam…” he almost cried. What was there to say? Stop? Keep going? How was this possible? 

His actions were once again not of his choice. Sam turned to look at him with a pleading stare. “Buck, I need you. I need your touch.”

“I’m already touching you,” he replied pathetically. 

“I need more,” Sam said. God he was close to whining. What would that sound like? Sam Wilson whining for him? 

“Where?” Direct me. Control me. I'm yours. 

Sam grabbed on to his hands, guiding them lower and stepping back into his embrace. There was no deniability now. His dick was staining his and Sam’s shorts with its precum. And there would be more to come as his hands reached the destination they had been brought to. Sam’s ample chest. A pair of fluffy pillows that his hands always eagerly twitched for anytime they undressed in front of one another. He had always been good to turn away, to present as annoyed at Sam’s half naked body any time he was blessed to see it. But he coveted the stolen glances at their beauty, never once imagining they would be grasped so wonderfully in his hands. 

“Here,” Sam nearly whispered. “I need you here.” He could feel Sam’s hands on top of his own as if he needed any more prompting as he squeezed. It was a small squeeze just to test this impossible situation they were in. Because this was impossible.

It was enough to elicit a sharp exhale from Sam. An appetizer of other sounds that could be pulled from his beautiful tits. He wondered what it would feel like twists at his nipples, perhaps even jerk on his cock, pull him apart at both ends? It was something he had always fantasized about. Like the exact fantasy. One he had when after that impromptu mission that had taken them to St. Lucia and a beautiful beach house. The situation had been enough to relax the heavy walls he kept around his thoughts, and this elaborate scenario had played in his head, while he and Sam snarked at each other and enjoyed an otherwise pleasant day at the beach. A pleasant day with this no titty fondling the entire time. 

“Bucky, you alright?” Sam asked, trying to turn to look at him as he had stopped his explorations of his body.

He blinked and backed up, slightly annoyed that his dick still tented his shorts despite knowing the truth or at least suspecting it. Now that he focused on it, he could see it. The blurriness at the edge of the world. Why was the ocean so close and so blue? Why couldn’t he remember how they got there? It felt similar to another world he had found himself unwittingly recently. Except this one was much more pleasant. He glanced at Sam’s concerned expression and then down at his glistening tits that seemed just as concerned. Yeah there was no comparison. 

“I need to go,” he said.

Sam glanced at the open door to the outside, a small confused smile on his face. “Yeah we both said we would hang out at the beach.

“No, not…” he began. He scanned the rest of the home. The bedroom that Sam had come from was open but was blurry as if there was nothing there at all. To get through places like this you had to find a path or make one. The bedroom next to Sam’s was still closed. His. Bingo.

“I’m sorry Sam.” he said, placing his hand on his shoulder. It was for comfort and reassurance but also a test. He felt so solid and so real.

“Ok?” he replied, that smile still on his face. “Weirdo…and a tease too.” He adjusted his own shorts that were currently tenting. 

“If only,” he said with a sigh, walking off before Sam could respond. He grabbed the handle of his bedroom, turned and walked through the front door of Sam’s apartment. He recognized it immediately. The knick knicks and merch and language, engineering, and Calvin and Hobbes books that littered the walls, counters and end tables Amongst the slight mess were little reminders of him in the space. His pristine copy of the Lord of the Rings he lent Sam on the bookshelf.. Two strips of photobooth pictures of them on the walls. A scarf that he was unsure belonged to either of them. He stood frozen taking it all in. A place he had not been to in a very long time. Longer than he would’ve liked. There was nobody in the open living room/kitchen. That was both a good thing and a bad thing because now he continued to have questions. 

So far he had been two places where there was nothing causing him dread or shame or emotion torture beyond mild heartache. He swallowed and it felt like cut glass down his throat. Ok perhaps more than mild heartache but nothing like before… He walked through the living room, down the short hallways where the master bedroom and guest bedroom lie. He tried the door to the latter and was frozen for the second time since he entered Sam’s space. Sam space and he here he was except…different. He was younger, more slender, his tits smaller but harder with muscle and definition. He could see them just as well as he could see all of his naked body. All of his brown beauty except for his dick trapped between his abs and the pillow tucked between his legs and as he humped away. 

His eyes were closed and he bit his pretty lips as he rode the soft cloth like it was the secret path to pleasure. It was so cute. He was like a horny puppy with all this energy and nowhere to put it. He was even whining for good sakes, a long drowned out sound that made him so hard he could scream. He took an unconscious step closer and then another and then he could hear it. A third freezing in such a short amount of time. 

“Bucky,” Sam whined. “Bucky, please I need you.”

What the fuck was going on here? What was this? Why was this happening? He shook with these questions. Why would Bob mess with him like this? With immense willpower, he swiftly exited the room and closed the door. He turned to the master bedroom door. The only door left to open because there was no bathroom pleasant. The scene didn’t exactly need one. 

He opened the door and the words spilled out of his mouth before he could even summon the foresight to consider how they would be construed. “What the fuck are you doing?” Because how could he not yell with Bob about to give Sam a kiss?”

They both turned in surprise and he met Bob’s equally shocked but guilty expression and then he felt the world stretch and squash and then he was falling and the world disappeared and he woke up with a fit. Which for him meant his eyes blinked a few more times than normal, but he was utterly stock still. Something was touching him, or rather, someone. It was Bob, leaning on his shoulder, his own eyes fluttering awake. Some of the others were arguing. He didn’t care, keeping his gaze directly on Bob as he slowly acclimated to being awake again. 

He turned his gaze to Bucky and his eyes widened in fear as he said “So, you want to answer my question now?”

He had Bob shaking like a leaf and blinking like a fish in the open air. Fucking useless. It was in this awkward silence he realized how much he didn’t actually care. This whatever it was…too much. His strategy of staying as far as possible from the kid would just have to remain. He would strengthen it if he needed, to but they never had to talk about this again. Leaving him gaping, he got him and walked back to his room. 

The damn sensations were still there even hours later. Sam’s soft skin, the smell of the ocean. That whining as he humped that pillow with abandon. His sweet voice as he called out for the only man who deserved him and the conviction in his pleading. Bucky heard in his sweet yearning that it was true. Fuck Bob. Fuck him for this gift. This strange nightmare. He was jerking his dick fiercely as he kept the sensations at the front of his mind. His soft tits, and even softer ass, only a few pieces of fabric away. God imagine what he would feel like inside? The sheer warmth and softness of his pussy. He came at the thought, the erupting white load staining his body, joining the drying spots of cum from the previous 5 orgasms. He was a mess. A fucking disaster. A pathetic loser. 

But a pathetic loser who cleaned himself up as best as possible, with half a roll of paper towels, before throwing on pajama pants and an oversized hoodie that could hide the persistent boner that threatened to spill out of the cotton pants. He trudged with purpose to the east wing of Watchtower where the other set of living quarters were. Soon he reached the room he was looking for. A place he had never felt any need to want to visit before. 

He was careful not to bang on the door, merely knock assertively. He was here. Answer. It took thirty seconds but the door slid open with an automatic hiss. And there Bob was with that scared expression on his face again. Ugh. He was also wearing pajamas pants and a sweater, but he had fucked up. It was too short. His boner was clear as day. But that wasn’t the most damning part. That was the heavy scent of cum that came off of him. 

“We need to talk,” he growled.

Chapter Text

Bob was back in Sam’s strange brown bedroom. It had worked. Bucky was right. Well maybe. He debated on staying in the comfy embrace of the soft bedding or doing some exploring. There was a door now, so he could leave if he wanted to. He debated it for a second before getting to his feet and exiting the room. He walked down the short hallway into the open living room/kitchen. It was morning. The sun was shining bright and warm through the windows. He could even hear birds chirping. And chopping something at the kitchen counter was Sam. Sam who was wearing next to nothing but an apron cinched tight at the waist, his tits spilling from the sides.

He glanced up and his face split into that amicable grin that Bob had only spent a few hours away from but missed all the same. Well his smile..amongst other things. “Hey, you hungry?” Sam asked.

His nipples were also peaking through the sides of the side , chocolate areolas that seemed almost bigger this time around. Or perhaps he had not paid as much attention as he should've to their impressive width. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Bob licked his lips. “Um, I could eat.”

Sam gestured him closer with the knife then. He fully could've said he was going to stab him with it and Bob was unsure that would've stopped him from getting closer. Once he was directly in front of him, he noticed he had been chopping white onions into fine cubes, a pile of tomatoes chopped similarly in a bowl next to it. “Well finish this off for me.”

He had been sufficiently distracted that it took him a second to process Sam holding the knife handle towards him. “What?” he lamely asked 

“You don’t work, you don’t eat. Something my folks always used to say.” Sam replied. 

“Oh.”

Sam smirked. “Is there a problem?”

The sharp blade of the knife seemed to catch the light of the natural light pouring in and it gleamed like sword Excalibur. He was simply not worthy. 

His heart was pounding and he felt his palms getting sweaty but it wasn’t a fun or exciting sensation.

Sam had noticed. There was pure concern in his voice, not a hint of malevolence. "Something wrong?”

He took a breath. This was fine. He was fine. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

“Hmmm…you can fry the tortillas for me?” He pointed at the pile of cold ones on a large plate further back on the counter.

That was fine. Just oil and heat and no sharp dangerous tools. “Yeah I can do that.” 

“Perfect.” Sam’s eyes crinkled a little when he grinned. He had probably been smiling his whole life and it was etched in his skin. “Plus you can watch me get my sous chef on in the meantime.”

“I’m more than ok with that.” Now that he was closer he noticed that Sam wasn’t near nude, he had a thong on. You just could barely see the red string in between his large cheeks. Fuck. 

“You just need a fork or a spatula to cook the tortillas even on both sides. No need for a meat hammer or anything like that.”

“Huh?”

He almost yelped as Sam grabbed his junk and squeezed his very hard cock which was stretching his boxer briefs. The boxer briefs which were the only piece of clothing he was wearing. He was somehow more nude and hadn’t even noticed. 

“Be careful,” Sam said with a wink. “You could take somebody’s eye out with that.”

Not a single stove top was on, yet he still felt so hot in the kitchen. His voice was shaky as he laughed at the frankly not that funny joke. “Yeah, I will be.”

The stove already had the nonstick pan ready with oil making the bottom shiny. All he did was turn the stovetop on and wait for it to begin to crackle slightly before putting 3 of the small tortillas in the pan. They all burned. It was like he blinked and they were near charred on one side. 

“Shit!” he cursed as he fished them out of the hot pan. 

“You ok?” Sam asked. Again no judgement. So strange. 

He held up the burnt tortilla as proof of his now proven incompetence in the kitchen.

Sam looked unfazed. “Well luckily there is more of them for you to heat up. And if push comes to shove, I love half and half.”

That got a genuine chuckle out of him and that seemed to make Sam happier. He was much quicker on the draw with the next set, watching the tortillas only char a little in small patches across the exterior, rescuing them from the flame much faster. By the time he was done, he felt like a tortilla flipping pro. 

“Well look at you, “ Sam said approvingly, taking a bite from his last batch, steam still rising from them. He moaned. 

“You don’t have to exaggerate,” he admonished. 

“I like it. A little crispy, but not too much. They’re perfect and I’m not afraid to admit that.”

Only Captain America could make you feel like on top of the world for such a simple task. 

“And now it’s my turn,” Sam announced. He was done and had washed his hands, pouring a bowl of his chopped onions and tomatoes into the searing pan.” It quickly smelt like heaven.

“So what are we making?” Bob asked, realizing he had no clue what the next step was.

“Huevos rancheros,” Sam responded. “You cook?”

He shook his head. The kitchen had always been a bit of a stressful place. Too many sharp objects, too many rules you could break. “Im a Doordash warrior unfortunately. It's hard to get them to deliver to the Watchtower though. They always think its a prank.”

“Shame for them. I'd love to visit you. Either way they will definitely miss you if you keep on the path you're on right now. Top chef in the making,” he replied as he pushed his chopped ingredients around with the spatula. 

“Its just tortillas,” he responded with an eye roll but he could still feel the heat on his face so who knows how convincing that was.

“If you say so,” Sam said. He moved to the fridge, opening its bright exterior and bent over to grab at something and Bob saw his big beautiful ass at another delicious angle. That thong was being smothered. It was probably so sweaty and warm. He was starting to feel jealous of a piece of fabric. Like a sleeper agent, his dick was up and erect one more. Sam rose back up, a carton of eggs in hand. He walked back to the counter and was clearly about to say something, probably related to the dish, but his eyes clearly caught his boner. It made sense. It was damn near staring at him. 

“I thought I told you to keep a hold of your tools,” Sam asked.

His tone clearly sounded like he was teasing, but the shame appeared all the same. He had let him down. “Sorry.”

Sam had gotten so close his boner brushed up against his thigh. Bob seized up from the casual contact. “You’re always apologizing and I'm not sure for what.”

“Sorry,” he responded automatically like a robot. A stupid defective robot.

Sam just laughed at that. It wasn’t dripping with pity or cut with sarcasm. Just a deep timbre of joy like he really did find him funny for just being him with no extra baggage. 

“Well, if this is going to be a problem, we should probably deal with it so we can get back to our lesson.” He grabbed his dick, firmer than before. More self assured and almost…possessive. 

He gasped. “Sam?”

“Do you want me to stop?” Sam asked, looking up at him. “I can, but I really don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to either, but the onions…” he replied lamely. God what the fuck is wrong with him?

But Sam didn’t look at him. Like that. He was amused, turning the temperature dial on the stove extremely low. So low it might just be off as if what he needed next was as much time as possible. ”Better now?” His grip was back on his dick as he stroked him through the fabric. 

He just nodded lamely and let out a soft moan. 

“Good.” He sank to his knees and took Bob's briefs to the floor with him. He didn't leave his hard cock bobbing in the air for too long, grabbing hold of it and kissing him at the base. He continued kissing up its length until he reached the head where he gave it a nice long lick.

“Ah!!” His body jerked with pleasure.

“Now it’s my turn to apologize. I know I said I’d get you fed, Bob. And I promise I will, but I need something to eat first. That ok with you?”

It was framed as a question but it really wasn't one. There was only one answer and he would give it to him again and again and again. As many times as he asked so long as he continued to look at him like that on his knees. “Yes,” he whimpered.

“Good boy.” And then Sam swallowed him whole.            

Chapter Text

One second, he was laying next to Bob in his bed, ignoring the awkwardness in his stiff, nervous body: the next, he was on his bike, driving fast down an empty road lined with dense forest on both sides. But he was not alone. Someone had their arms wrapped tight around his middle and he could smell the faint notes of his apple pie scented cologne. A cologne he had teased him for time and time again because why did he want to smell like a bakery so damn badly?

“Could you go any slower?,” he heard Sam yell over the roar of the loud engine.

“Shut up,” he yelled back. However he did rev the engine pushing the bike quicker down the lane and enjoyed the WHOOOP from Sam’s lips in response. He remembered this moment. They were in north Washington on the way to a safe house, buzzing from having just finished a mission and not quite yet crashed from the adrenaline. That was what the safe house was for. He arrived at the cabin soon after. Nondescript, out of the way, and only accessible via a hard to see path through the brush. 

Sam hopped off the back and did a big stretch, letting out an exaggerated grunt. “Ugh I don’t know how you can do that for hours on end.”

He wanted to respond with a quick retort. (It helps when you’re not lugging around an excess 220 on your back.) but he had been stunned into silence. Because it was Sam, but younger. A lot younger. He had seen pictures of him in his old EXO program days and he looked similar. The shine in his eyes was brighter, his build smaller and without the facial hair quite baby faced. He was so cute.

Bucky wanted to continue to just look at him move as he shook out his limbs like a disgruntled cat, but Sam had noticed his silence and returned his blank gaze. “You ok or you just being moody for the sake of being moody?”

Well even younger, his attitude was still the same. It was the jolt his mouth needed to respond. “The fact you think I need to respond to everything you say is ridiculous.”

“Not every thing, just every other thing.” he replied with a smirk. “And your response rate is way too low.”

He finally got off the bike himself and did feel some cramping in his legs and back. “You’ll just have to adjust.”

Sam pouted. “Come on. I’m needy. You know this.”

What did he need? What could Bucky give? What did he have? Whatever it was, he wanted Sam to have.

Except now he was in his own head again not responding and Sam just rolled his eyes and turned and walked to the front door. “Whatever man.”

He followed hesitantly after him. It all felt real or real enough. The strain in his muscles, the tightness of his jeans, the hard wood of the cabin floors, the empty almost disinfectant smell of the rarely used safe house. The only unbelievable thing was talking to his partner from twenty years ago. Well, ex-partner. The thought made his stomach shift.

Sam had turned the corner from the modest living room with its couch, coffee table, and TV but then quickly popped his head back into the room. “I’m about to take a shower first. Need to use the can?”

“I’m ok,” he responded. 

“You want to join me? Save on water?” He punctuated the offer with a slick Cheshire cat-like grin.

It had the desired effect. Bucky immediately hardened at the thought. Stripping down to their bare naked bodies, kissing slowly under the warm spray of the water, Sam’s submission as he actually cleaned him up because they were for a reason. He could see the fantasy so clearly. One he had had often. One he was now being offered to on a silver platter and yet…he couldn’t. Ugh what was wrong with him?

“Just don’t use all the hot water,” he replied gruffly. 

There was that sexy little pout of his. “You’re no fun.” Then he was gone and soon after he could hear the muffled sound of water falling.

He took a deep breath, went to the small kitchen, got a cup of water from the tap and knocked it back. It was barely chilled and it tasted of silt. Exactly as it should be. Exactly as he had had it in his own memories. Except this wasn’t his memories. At least not one to one. It was the setting. The playground by which things were being moved around. Different words, different actions and a whole different Sam altogether. He was in his own mind. No wonder he couldn't be relaxed. It hadn’t exactly been a pleasant place to be over the years, but it had improved right? At least a little? Enough that Bob’s strange mental powers could pull something other than nightmares from it. This was a dream, of sorts. It wasn’t real, but it could be and that was a good thing.

The TV wasn’t connected to cable but had a DVD player attached. The problem was all of the available ones to watch were musicals. He wasn’t interested and yet he sat in front of it, holding Singing in the Rain and Rent in his hands.

“Man stop acting like this is a serious choice and put on Singin in the Rain,” Sam had appeared like a ghost over his shoulder, but he was keyed to his voice and had been for years, and he didn’t react at all. He was nude with only a bright white towel wrapped low around his waist. He smelled clean with the scent of that apple barely present. Thank god. 

“What’s it about?” he asked. They had had this conversation before he was pretty sure. Yet he couldn’t remember exactly how it played out. 

Sam hopped over the couch, plopping right next to Bucky. He was so close he could feel the heat rapidly leaving his body now that he had been out of the shower. “It’s about the transition from silent films to sound.”

“No.”

Sam looked offended. “You can’t just say no! It’s a cinematic masterpiece.”

“I don’t need to listen to people sing and dance about a time I lived through for 90 minutes. That sounds close to torture.”

“And yet it bangs instead.”

“We’re watching Rent,” he decided.

“Bro. Oh my god you would hate that. I know you.”

“Rent it is,” he decided because there was always a part of him that needed to antagonize Sam and this Sam seemed a bit easier to affect.

Sam reached for the copy of Rent but he moved his hand out of reach. “Stop playing with me Bucky.”

“I’m not,” he lied.

“You are!” Sam lunged for the disc this time but he was quicker ,able to keep it just out of reach. Sam did not seem phased, beginning to climb his body to reach it, moving as if his being near nude wasn’t an inconvenience at all. 

“Get off me,” he said, a chuckle close to escaping from his lungs.

“Not until you stop being difficult.”

The chuckle escaped him then. “I’m being difficult?”

“Yes,” he whined. He was cute like this, desperate and pressed across his body. Exactly where he should be. His face was so close, eyebrows scrunched his consternation. He had a thought. A thought he had many times before, but never acted on because it would change everything between him and Sam and nothing was worth that. Except…things were different between them now and all he had was this moment. This memory, no, this fantasy.

He dropped the DVDs and Sam was so confused by the play, he was fully caught off guard as Bucky cupped him by the back of his neck and gave him a mighty kiss. No time. It took no time at all for Sam to relax and pressed his lips back with just as mighty of a fervor. They were so soft and Bucky could just revel in that, but to his surprise Sam wanted more. The kiss deepened and he felt his tongue try to enter his mouth and he let him in with no hesitation. Sam tasted like heaven and moaned with such wanton abandon he hardened immediately. He remained hard as Sam whined as he held his head steady so he could get a good look at him. 

He looked like he was in a daze, a slightly unfocused look on his face with the goofiest smile. He cock was hard and the towel was doing nothing to hide the very obvious fact. Bucky shivered as he realized he could do anything to him at this moment. Anything at all. 

The thought was like ice water as gingerly let Sam go and cleared his throat. “So you gonna stop fighting me now?”

Sam just looked confused, which he understood. Even in here, he couldn’t possibly be privy to Bucky’s labyrinthine inner world that made some of his decisions incomprehensible outside looking in. “Yeah, we can play Rent.” His smile returned though smaller. “But when you hate it don’t get mad at me.”

“Deal,” he replied, happy that things were still good between them.

He finally seemed to notice his unbalanced state of dress looking down. “Um, give me 5 though so I can change.”

“Trust me, I’m not in a rush.”

With another hop over the back, Sam was gone and it was Bucky and the stupid musicals. No, the musicals weren’t stupid. He was being stupid like he always was. Sam deserved better. Every Sam deserved better and if he was gonna start anywhere, it might as well be this one. He went over what he wanted to say when he got back. He deliberated on those thoughts for 5, 10 minutes. When it hit 15, he started to get worried. He got up from the couch and went to Sam’s room.

“Sam?” he said, knocking on the door.

There was silence. Now he was nervous. He opened the door and froze at the sight.

Sam was on the edge of his bed, still naked, but now the towel was fully gone. It was just him and his enormous cock in his hand and an embarrassed look on his face.

It was a sight that frying his circuits. Say something you idiots. “Sorry I-”

“I thought I could just…handle it and get back. Damn it, Bucky.”

“Sam, I’m so sorry. I should've left you alone. I didn’t think-”

“Why did you have to kiss me?” Sam he nearly whispered.

He didn’t sound hurt, but Bucky was worried. Did he regret it? Had he fucked up?

Sam without prompting, however, already had an answer for him “Now I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Those words, those beautiful words said by the most beautiful man in the world. It was then he realized what the fantasy was, why this Sam was so much younger than present day. It had been in this cabin in the middle of watching Rent, which he finally remembered he did hate. Sam had talked about when he first saw it. 

“I was still in prep training, but I could not give less of a shit,” Sam had said. “I was a horny fool back then, constantly just thinking about getting my dick wet. Unfortunately the guy I was into liked musicals so I had to endure that for a piece.”

Bucky had been doing his best not to ruminate on Sam as a young cock slut at the moment so all he had said was “Weirdo.”

“Like you haven’t done something stupid to get some.”

Not stupid no. But strange, weird, potentially unethical, yes. Those were the words that came to mind as he approached this sweet young man in front of him, eyes misty with sexual frustration. Frustration that he had caused. Frustration he could solve.

He lifted Sam’s chin up so he could look at him. He was so pretty like this. His body honest about what he needed, who he needed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Let’s fix that.”

“Bucky, what?” but he was already kneeling pushing Sam’s legs apart so the beauty of his cock was not hidden by his instinctual shame. He gripped the thick wide member and gave it a small tug.

“You’re so big,” he marveled. It was nearly the length of his head.

“Thanks,” Sam replied sheepishly. He could barely make eye contact with him but that was fine. There was so much of him to look at instead. His strong lithe frame, nearly hairless except the beautiful black curls of his bush and of course his gorgeous cock. Precum shone at his leaking tip.

Bucky sucked on the head enjoying the salty flavor and the sharp gasp Sam let out at the sensation. “No thank you,” he replied and then began to suck in earnest. Sam was verbal. Every lick or intense suck produced a cacophony of gasps, moans, and hisses from his pretty lips. He was so nervous after first, but the longer he sucked at his meaty cock, he relaxed. Bucky loved his balls. They made him produce the loudest sounds as he lovingly sucked at his warm sac. He wondered what he would sound like once he was filled to the brim. How he would scream for him. The time would come, but Sam first.

He kept his hands on his thighs or the bed, anywhere but Bucky’s head, which did bother him. But that was ok. Next time he would teach how he liked to be touched. Before he could consider that he had already decided there was a next time, he felt Sam’s thick thighs close around his face, trapping him in the musky warmth of his cock dripping with Bucky’s spit. 

“Fuck!” Sam screamed out. The orgasm hit a second later coating his throat with his lovely warm cum. He slipped the rapidly deflating appendage from his throat enjoying the small beads of white that continued to spill from the tip.

He sucked at those, wanting all of Sam’s seed inside of him and Sam’s cried out at the overstimulation of his beautiful cock. 

“You gotta stop,” he said in between heavy breaths

His jaw ached, his cock throbbed, and his tongue felt heavy. God he never felt better. “You don’t like when I suck you dry?” he replied.

Sam had finally recovered his faculties to address the taunt. “You say that now you wont like it when I suck you up like a fucking hoover.”

He grabbed at his own cock instinctively and was about to stand up and let him prove his dare at that very moment but the world was fading to black. Light was becoming shadow and then suddenly he was falling in the middle of nowhere ,turning round and round in a void. He opened his eyes and tried to remember where he was. Bob’s bed, curled around Bob himself. His cock was hard as it was in the dream/fantasy/whatever it was. In fact it felt harder pressed into the younger man's ass. His eyes fluttered open a second later, looked down and frowned.

Bucky followed his line of sight to the large wet spot at the front of his pants, his own erection tenting his pants but getting smaller by the second. He had cum in his pants. Their eyes met and they both seemed to realize just how close they were and separated. Embarrassment, fear, and shame all seemed to be warring in Bob’s face. This was his fault. He had asked him to repeat what had happened in the living room, desperate to repeat the results of this strange experiment. Now he had to deal with the fall out. 

He adjusted his own junk rising to his feet. “Come on, let's hit the showers. Then we can go back to sleep clean.”

Bob truly had no poker face. He had heard him and laser focused on that “we”. It was an olive branch of sorts. They both knew that and Bucky supposed there was a chance he wasn’t going to take it, but he doubted it. There was something in it for both of them and it was only in his mind. Sam Wilson. All the different versions of him. 

“Ok,” Bob said. Olive branch taken. Bucky just hoped he never noticed how twisted it was.

Chapter Text

Now more than ever, Bob was looking forward to sleeping. Not in a bad way, of course. There was just something waiting for him. Or rather, someone. He was kind, handsome, and kind of funny. He just also happened to live in Bucky Barnes' head. That was their best working theory. Somehow his ability to read people's emotional states was interfering with Bucky’s own thoughts and perceptions to create realities similar to the void rooms, but pleasant. Much more pleasant. 

There were of course still things that he had not yet discovered. Like if it could be done whilst they were awake or if this worked on anyone else. These inquiries were difficult to make progress on, two fold. For one, Bucky was unwilling to talk about it. Second, he was unwilling to talk to anyone else about it. Despite the fact they often spent the night together, he still kept a fair amount of distance from Bob in the day. Though there was some change. When he spoke up during the occasional team meeting or hang out and was cut down frequently by Walker, occasionally by  Ava and rarely by Alexei, Bucky would give him a look. It was one that he had learned to read. Was this his battle or did he need backup? 

That was new for him having reliable back up in this way. His own defensive nature that wrapped up his wallow and self pity struggled to use, it but it warmed him up that it was right there. This plus his conversations with Sam were helping. He felt good seeing the Thunderbolts off on missions and having the Watchtower in tip top shape for their return. 

Yelena had noticed and spoke on the change in their general quarters’ conditions. “This place looks good. Almost too good. What are you hiding?” she asked him one day.

“They’re called micro raves. I send out the blast the moment you guys leave and trash the place and get it all cleaned up before you get back.”

She smirked at that. “Add me to your list. And make me VIP.”

“Done,” he responded with a smile. 

Even Ava once had commented in passing. “Thank god this place isn't a sty anymore.” 

He had relayed the message to Sam that very night.

“How kind of her,” he responded wryly. They were in the space that gave him the most comfort, Sam’s bed room with its soft bedding and wonderful companion. They were both in their underwear like they always were. Except his was the same boxer briefs as always, while Sams rotated between a similar pair to his own and a thong which left little to the imagination. He preferred the thong and he felt like Sam could tell, a coy smile on his face every time his dick became hard as he took in his near nude form. 

This was one of those thong wearing nights and thought he was appreciative to look at him, he was even more excited to share what Ava had said. “But it actually was. She didn’t even roll her eyes.” he pushed back.

Sam merely looked amused, but seemed to accept what he was saying as fact. “Well I’m proud of you for getting through to her.” He was lazily rubbing at Bob’s chest and he couldn't lie and say it wasn’t having a very predictable effect on his body.

“Now while I would love to keep talking to you about how others are finally appreciating you, I’d like to show my appreciation another way, if you’ll let me.” His hand moved lower past his stomach, lower still reaching right into his briefs. The feel of his palm around his cock never got old and he let out a soft breath. 

Another thing he had learned. The easiest way to end the dream was for him to cum. He didn’t like it and though Bucky never complained, it was clear in the grimace on his face, he didn’t like it when it ended either. So he tried to hold off from nutting as much as he could. It was hard though when a gorgeous man looked at you with such abject lust.

He tried to ignore the disappointed look on Sam’s face as he gestured for him to remove his  hand away from his cock. “Can I make you feel good instead?”

Sam didn’t look disappointed for very long, a mischievous smile growing on his face. “Of course, baby boy. You got any ideas?”

He bit his tongue. That was the other thing. Sam was remembering things across from previous nightly encounters. Another thing he was unsure of how, but that meant that the dirty things they did carried over. The dirty things that he said carried over too. Like a few weeks ago when Sam had been at his back and he had been sat between his open legs. He had felt his soft lips kiss at his neck while he slowly jerked him off.

His words had sent shivers through Bob’s body as he tried to ignore the hot throbbing erection at his back. “That’s it. That my boy. My smart, hardworking boy. Just relax for me. I’ll make you feel so good.” His cock was dripping precome that Sam was using to push waves of pleasure through his body.

He had been successfully holding off an orgasm for so long, but it was a losing battle. “Please, please,’ he had pleaded. “Daddy, I can’t-shit I’m didn’t mean-”

He felt the deep timbre of an amused chuckle move through Sam’s body. His voice was so close. “Hey I don’t mind. I can be your daddy. I kind of like that. I like taking care of you.” 

Sam turned his head to meet his eyes. There was no malice. Nothing stern at all, just a strong loving gaze. “Can I get a kiss?”

How could he ever tell him no again? “Please…daddy.” He nearly choked on the word, but it had been teetering on the edge of his tongue for so long. He didn’t want to make this weird. He didn’t want to ruin this thing he had found, but it felt so good. Wrapped in his arms, he felt safe and content and so fucking horny. 

“I love you baby boy.” Sam replied. He cried into his mouth as he spilled over into his gentle hands. 

Sam had remembered that. He could see in him now, on this bed once again, not nearly as nude but close, because the expressions were near identical. No judgement at all. God how could he be this lucky? It was easier now than to meet that warm gaze, but it was still too hot like moments like now. So he tried to move his gaze downward, but now he had a different problem. Sam’s giant tits. They looked so soft upon his chest and his nipples so tantalizingly close.

He hadn’t even realized his mouth was hanging open until he felt Sam’s hand lift his chin up to look at him once again. “I think I know what you want.”

“Maybe,” he replied sheepishly as if they had not been getting each other off for weeks now. But it was different now. He wasn’t just Sam’s boy. Sam was his daddy now and for some reason, that made it feel more intimate.

But even in this moment, he was taken care of. Sam grabbed his hand and placed it upon one of his large tits. He squeezed on instinct enjoying the soft give of the fatty breast. His reward was a muffled moan in the back of Sam’s throat clearly enjoying the pressure. The sound doubled as he shed his underwear completely, fully climbed on top of the older man and began to squeeze the other. 

“A little handsy with your daddy, huh?” San remarked as he continued squeezing his tits like they were squeaky toys.

“Only because you enjoy it,” he responded cheekily. The sounds he was making were more than enough of a cue.

“I think I’d like it more if you put them in your mouth. You’ve been drooling for a minute there. It'd be a shame if all that spit went to waste”

His brain short-circuited for a second. He even stopped squeezing but luckily gained his faculties enough to say, “Okay.”

It was true. Hunger felt different in here, like it could be satisfied or postponed with mere willpower. The hunger for Sam’s body was persistent. He carried it with every conversation, scared to always make the first move. But if he was asked, no, if he was told, he would obey. That’s what good boys do. His tongue found his pointed left nipple enjoying the hard nub. He closed his mouth around the thing and began to suck. Though he started weak, the effect was immediate. Sams breath got heavier and he began to groan softly. The sound of his pleasure went straight to Bob’s own dick which was trapped between their stomachs. As the strength of each suck increased so did the gorgeous sounds Sam was making .His tongue was a mad thing around his nipple desperate to lick up around his lovely areola to give it as much attention as possible.

But he didn't stop there. His tit was too big to shove fully in to this mouth but he did try. With every pop, he sucked on more and more of his glorious tit till it was a big shiny mess. 

He felt Sam’s hand in his hair gripping light but firm as he pulled him the left to the right side of his large chest. “The other one, baby. The other one too.” Oh right he had gotten so distracted that he had forgot he had not one squishy toy to play, with but two. If his mouth was exploratory with the first tit, he was down right ravenous with the second. His hand found Sam’s drying left nipple while he soaked the other in his saliva and played with it while sweet deep moans floated down to his ears. He was so hungry but he had everything he wanted right here. His daddy’s precious tits that he was doing his eager best to pull milk from. 

He felt Sam’s large arms wrap around his head as he cooed, “That’s my boy. My beautiful boy.”

He whined as he wrapped his legs around Sam’s thick thigh, the drag of his erection feeling like fire against his naked body. 

“You like sucking your daddy’s titites?” he asked in that warm buttery tone. 

“Yes,” he whined but it’s not like Sam could hear him on account of his mouth being very occupied. 

But he could still understand him well enough as he began to stroke his hair. “I know. Enjoy yourself. Take anything, everything from me. It’s yours. I’m all yours.”

Shit. He couldn’t help it. He was desperate, alternating between both wonderful fluffy tits in equal measure. He shoved his face between them, needing his tongue on as much of Sam’s wonderful skin as possible. All the while between sharp breaths he spoke to him about how strong was, how reliable, how beautiful. All of the praise made him feel crazy. He sucked and humped him like a damn dog. He wanted to stop to bring himself away from the edge, to cherish this feeling but it was too late. He felt his orgasm hit him like a truck and squeezed Sam’s thigh tight as he came in jolts. He knew the next part. The blackness would overtake him. His eyes would open and he would be in the real world with a stain on his pants yet again and a cranky super soldier curled around him. But he didn’t want that. He wanted this, to be told how much he was loved, how much he was needed by a kind, paternal man. Was that so fucking wrong?

Please don’t go daddy.

He felt a hand stroke at his hair, a familiar voice speaking. A familiar scent. “I’m not going anywhere,” Sam said with a chuckle.

Bob's eyes opened. He was still in the all brown room with its soft candles, his legs curled around the thigh around a wonderful man. He lifted his head. There he was still, a crooked smile on his face. “You did make a bit of a mess though.”

His tits were still quite glossy with spit and sweat and oh god, was that a bite mark?

“I’m sorry,” he said, warm with embarrassment, kissing the bite mark on his right tit.

Sam looked unbothered. “You got excited. That’s what happens to horny boys sometimes. Perfectly natural”

He felt buzzy. It was so paternal, so understanding. He had fucked up and the mistake had been aknowledged with no bashing.He could tell Sam knew how he was making him feel because he had a bit of cocky look on his face. That didn’t bother him one bit. Let him feel cocky till the end of time. He was taking care of him after all.

“But I do need you to get off me so I can go clean up.” Sam continued.

His embarrassment flared back to life once again once he realized he had cum all over him, streaking his legs in sheer white. He obeyed, getting off the older man.

Sam got to his feet a little unsteadily. “I’m going to get some towels and clean up. Then when I get back, you can make it up to me by massaging me with some shea butter. How’s that sound?”

Wait, did that mean he wanted him to touch him again? Cover his body in some sort of soft butter. He felt his dick jump once again. “That sounds good to me, daddy.”

The name clearly pleased Sam as he shot him a quick wink before leaving the room. Once he was finally gone, Bob took a deep breath wiping his hands on the bedspread. His palms were sweating. He of course was nervous in anticipation at the next phase of the night, but also…there was going to be a next phase of the night. One of the rules he had thought he had nailed had been made null and void. He had cum and still was here in the dream. It hadn’t disappeared. Why? Was it because he wanted it bad enough or perhaps…he was getting better at using it?

Once again he felt frustrated because there was no one to talk about this. The only other person who could potentially have insight was god knows where. Except that wasn’t true. He was right next to him, close enough to cuddle, but also they were inside his head. Bucky was all around in somehow all the ways except the one that mattered. The buzzing he had felt earlier returned and the edges of the world got dark for a second and then darkness receded. The room was same as ever, except now there was a second door next to the first. The one that Sam had exited in order to clean up. He should've just stayed put, waited until he got back and then decide what to do. It’s what a good boy would do right? But he wasn't good all the time. This was one of those times. 

The second door was all black and shiny. He pushed it open and was transported to another world. Deep hypnotic tracks sounded loud in invisible speakers. The smell of hookah, weed and sweat hung in the air. There were people dancing all around but none of them seemed to notice him and his naked form. No, they were much more interested in one another. Some were merely jumping up and down to the persistent beat, but others were grinding instead. Grinding with barely anything between their body and the next. It was harnesses and latex and shiny rubber that gleamed in the dark light. No wonder no one noticed him. There was so much else to ogle instead. 

He didn't know where he was going just trying to avoid these two women kissing here, a man licking another man's pit there, or the man who fully giving cunnilingus as a petite woman rode his face as leaned against a wall. He was trying to remain calm and not…excited but they were so beautiful. So honest about what they wanted in such a public space. His dick was rising of its own accord. He wasn't ready for that. 

He turned to head back from where he came and saw movement from the corner of his eye. Bodies were bent and curved all over, but this one was familiar or rather both bodies were. The man getting fucked and the man doing the fucking. Bucky had Sam bent over the side of black couch, ramming into him with a fervor. 

If not for the blasting tones, he's sure he would hear the distinct slap of skin on skin. Speaking of, they were not all the way naked, Bucky dressed distinctly formal as if private security and Sam in the remains of a pretty maroon and gold suit. His trousers were down to his knees and his shirt torn open, but a suit it still was. He didn't know where to look. Bucky's fat cock as he slammed over and over in Sam's thick cheeks, his ass wobbling with the force of his thrusts or Sam’s face of  scrunched ecstasy or the leash he held in his hands, attached to the collar around Bucky's throat. Sam was pulling on the thing hard as if it would bring Bucky as close as possible to him to do exactly as it wanted, which was apparently to fuck him in the middle of a crowd of people. Bucky's face was smashed into Sam's collar as if he was addicted to his scent. Like he was a big dog or something that needed direction. His hands were grabbing at Sam's chest like it was going to run away from. Bob's own hands twitched at the force. Something about that bothered him, how reckless he was being with his daddy's body. 

But that wasn't him, he had to tell himself. His Sam. This was Bucky's fantasy, the one he refused to talk about or perhaps one of many. While he mostly stayed in Sam's apartment enjoying the casual intimacy of being at home with a man who would never yell at him, he had no clue what Bucky was up to-until now. Deciding it was probably for the best that Bucky did not know he was there, he fully turned back around and headed back through the strange black door that hung in the middle of the club floor. 

Once he was back in Sam's room, or maybe he should start thinking of it as their room, he started to feel a bit more relaxed. It helped that Sam, his Sam, not in a suit, just wonderfully nude, was waiting in bed for him. 

“There he is,” Sam said.

“Sorry, I…um,” what could he even say? How would dream Sam even comprehend this?” He turned to look back at the club he had just come from but the door and its salacious denizens had disappeared. 

Suddenly he felt very tired, his limbs heavy and his lids heavier than that. “Can we just cuddle?” He wasn't intentionally trying to change the topic. The idea just felt really good to him right now. 

Sam was obviously receptive to the idea. “Of course. Come here.”

It was so easy to climb back on the bed and sink into his open arms and lie on his chest. His warmth. His scent. His strong arms curled around him. He nearly moaned as he began to play in his hair, dragging his fingers tenderly through his scalp. 

“You like that baby?”

“Yes, daddy” he mumbled against his heartbeat. It was getting easier to say it. The word slipped from his tongue, eager to be declared. 

“I should hope so. I can feel you getting hard again,” he said with a chuckle. 

Except it wasn't a joke. He was getting hard against his thigh. But it wasn't because they were cuddling. Ok it was a little cuz just being naked against Sam was going to provoke a physical reaction from him. The greater reason was the image that he couldn't kick from his mind. Bucky fucking Sam that intensely. Almost feral in his need. But there was devotion there, a possessiveness he could not stop thinking about. Who was worthy of Sam Wilson's love, his touch, his praise. Only the most loyal of men..

But he wasn't like that. He wasn't sure how good on a leash he would be. He needed a steady hand and voice and not necessarily force, but he could be just as loyal, just as loving. Not yet a dog, but a puppy. He sunk into the dark of a deeper slumber with so many dangerous new thoughts swirling in his mind. 

…

The sex shop was quiet. Besides the cashier asking if he needed help upon his initial arrival, he had been left alone to peruse its densely packed aisles. He was treating it like shopping hungry in a supermarket, as if he was not craving anything in particular, but needed to browse to find the thing that was just right. In reality, he knew exactly what he was looking for but he strolled regardless. It was near the back on the furthest right aisle. They were hung up in a row. A series of collars. Most black, others, red, blue and gold. Some spiked. All just…waiting. His days whilst cleaning or playing video games or reading often turned to Sam. How he made him feel in more ways than one. However in the past week it had evolved. He couldn’t help but think of Bucky’s Sam. The one in that club. The grip on that leash. The collar that claimed Bucky has Sam’s in the club of hedonism and pleasure. What would such a thing feel like? Sensations he hadn’t had direct experiences with in the dream always felt a little off. He didn’t want off. He wanted to feel complete submission. That thought had wriggled it way so deep into his mind he had ended up here. In a sex shop debating buying one just to see how it felt. How tender Sam would put it around his throat. 

The cashier had the discretion to put the collar in a small black plastic bag and he kept it in the large center pocket of his hoodie as he took the train back to the Watchtower. As he walked into the lobby, he hoped he wouldn’t have to run into any of his team members as he was damn near bouncing with anticipation to try his new purchase. It was the nastiest of all monkey paws that he got his wish. None of the other members of the Thunderbolts were in the lobby, but Sam Wilson was. Not his Sam. Not Bucky’s Sam. Sam Sam. Captain America. Not naked or stroking his hair or sucking on his cock. Just the man of his dreams right in front of him in a maroon polo and dark jeans slowly walking up to him.

“Hey there,” he began, the timber of his voice so familiar, yet so foreign. “You’re Bob, right? I’m looking for Bucky or Congressman Barnes, if you prefer. Is he here?” 

Chapter Text

This had to stop. That’s what Bucky told himself every time the sun would set and he would find himself deliberating walking across the wings of the monumental Watchtower to Bob’s room. It was becoming a crutch. He could feel himself counting down the hours till he could see Sam again. On missions, he would become more irritated if they had to go anywhere that had them working overnight. It was a problem and it's not like Bob was going to practice any impulse control so it was up to him instead.

“Try it,” Sam said, extending his fork which had a sopping piece of chocolate cake on the end. It put a firm time limit on the request because, if he didn’t take it, the thing was going to crash on to the crisp white tablecloth. A stain like that in a place as fancy as the one they were sitting in felt almost sacrilegious.

Seeing he had no choice, he leaned forward catching the piece of cake in his mouth moments before it fell. It was so rich, dissipating instantly into a river of thick sweet goodness down his throat. The best fucking piece of cake he ever had.

“It’s alright,” he merely commented.

Sam took his fork back, licking the small remnant still stuck to the stainless steel tool. It was like sharing a kiss of sorts. “You ass. I know you liked it.”

“I know. That’s why I said it’s alright.”

Sam cut another bite, bigger this time, from his plate before putting it in his mouth. “Mmmmm, yeah that’s it.” The moan he let out was just lewd enough it had his right arm tensing. Another thing Sam noticed, if the shit eating grin on his face was anything to go off.

Bucky wanted to take him, fancy restaurant be damned. Have Sam put his mouth around something, thicker and harder than any dessert could provide. It would be just as sweet. Well at least sweet for him to watch. Except, he didn’t. They were in a public space. Even if it was a public space in a dream. This was another one of those dreams that was actually a twisted memory sort of situation. A Michelin star restaurant that Sam had forced him to go to that had genuinely been wonderful but only because they were both so out of their depth.

Everything was served on small plates with no prices and their server could tell they weren't from this world, but humored them either way. There was a lot of bantering and arguing and even requested advice (from the server of course) and by the end they were still hungry, but didn't want to risk ordering more for the sake of their wallets. Then dessert came and it was so good, it was almost a little insulting. Sam had let out that moan and the combination of the delicious cake and that sound solidified this as something that would stay in his mind forever, clearly.

“Watch your volume or they might actually kick us out,” Bucky said.

Sam’s eyes crinkled. “So long as they don’t charge me, I think I might actually prefer that.”

“That’s why they took your card before they brought the cake out.”

“Damn. I gotta think of a better plan next time.”

“Oh no, we are never coming back here again.”

Sam pouted. “Not even for the cake?”

Each second he didn’t respond, the smile on Sam’s face returned larger and larger. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Knew you liked it,” he said before taking another bite.

Bucky rolled his eyes but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this moment. Getting this back with Sam again. One of their bests before…

He heard the tapping before he saw Sam’s knuckle rap against the clothed tabletop. Once he saw he had his attention, he unfurled his left hand. Almost like he was expecting him to give him something. But this was new. He didn’t know this part of the script.

“Your hand, dummy” Sam replied, exasperated that he could so easily read Bucky’s mind. “Give me your hand.”

Oh. Feeling a tinge of embarrassment, he plated his hand in Sam’s. He felt warm, present, real.

“I’m glad we came here,” Sam began earnestly. “And I’m glad I have you Buck. My life is better with you in it.”

How could he respond to that? The exact words he wanted to hear. This wasn’t real he kept trying to repeat to himself. It’s comforting, but don’t get sucked in. It was a lie of his mind, but what a beautiful lie. DIdn’t he deserve beauty? Didn’t he deserve care?

“I love you,” he whispered and then once he realized that the world did not collapse with those words, he repeated them louder and with conviction. “I love you, Sam. I’ll always love you.”

He felt Sam squeeze his hand in silent affirmation. “You better.”

They barely made it to the alley just outside the restaurant before Bucky found himself pushing inside Sam’s warmth. He could only groan in pleasure and use his body to show him the depths of his devotion. They could have done it in the restaurant, in full view of the people on the edges of the fantasy, but they didn't deserve to see Sam in the midst of pleasure. That was for him and him alone. At least that’s what he thought.

The dates always ended in sex. Seaside restaurant with a walk on the beach against the light of the setting sun? They ended up grinding together until completion in the dark of the night, the crash of waves against the shore masking their moans.

A day at the state fair where he would win Sam every type of giant plushie they had? They made for comfortable pillows as he pounded him into the mattress. A paint and sip night where they got red, blue, and so much white all over their home. However there was one particular date that he couldn't stop thinking about and it wasn't because it was bad, but it was different or rather, Sam was different.

It was hard to describe at first. Since that first encounter, Sam’s age in these fantasies had varied, but he loved them all. The young upstart who leapt first and questioned later. The slightly older Sam, with adventure still in his blood, but a caution born of pain. And the current Sam. Captain America. Unbreakable in his dedication to good. Each was admirable in their own way. But this Sam was not quite that. They were sat in a sleek sports car with a low roof and more electronics in the dash than an average home. He was in the Smiling Tiger suit but they were not in Madripoor. He wouldn't go back there, even in his own mind. It hadn’t been a fun experience, but it’s not like he didn’t enjoy how Sam filled the suit out. And the knowing smile on his face sent a shiver through his body. He and Sam had shared looks before, full of longing and tension, but rarely was lust so apparent as right now.

His hand was so warm as he reached out as he grabbed Bucky by the neck, titling him this way and that. “You look good,” Sam merely said.

He looked down. He was in a classic black suit with intricate gold piping along the cuffs and across the lining. It matched the design of his arm. He returned his gaze to Sam. “Not as good as you.”

Sam smirked at that then scratched at his short beard. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but I gotta give it to you outside.”

“You not a fan of being alone with me?”

“On the contrary. I want to show you off,” Sam merely replied, licking his lips.

His already tight pants felt even tighter. That was forward. More forward than any version of Sam had ever been, both real or imagined. He had no comeback just nodding and getting out of the car. He had just enough time to adjust his boner and scan their surroundings before Sam walked over from the other side of the car. They were in the parking lot across the street from a club. It looked more cube than club, but the line extending out from the entrance was a strong clue. It was like no building he had ever remembered. This wasn’t a memory. It was pure fantasy.

“We heading inside?” he asked Sam as he walked up.

“In a second,” he replied. He removed something from his pocket. It took him a second to make it out in the dead of night. It was a collar.

“What’s that for?” he asked almost instinctually, then felt stupid almost immediately.

Sam looked like he was on the verge of answering with something dripping with sarcasm but seemed to stop himself. “Kneel for me,” he said.

His legs buckled. His voice wasn't particularly demanding and yet he felt drained of any will of his own. Sam wanted him to kneel, so he had to kneel. It was beyond obedience. It was instinct. He dropped to one knee gazing up at a very pleased looking Sam Wilson and he felt his heart begin to pound.

Then Sam’s smile dropped slightly. “Bucky I said kneel. Don't half ass it.”

Fuck you I am kneeling. That’s what he would normally respond with. Something snarky or with an attitude or a sarcastic barb. That was his relationship with Sam but not this Sam. Not in this moment.

He put both knees on the hard concrete, unsure if he was allowed to sit back on his haunches or not, but decided against it. It wasn’t worth the risk. “Sorry.”

The completely pleased expression was back on Sam’s face. “Sorry, what?”

He didn’t know what. No, that was a lie. It had always been a lie. “Sorry, sir.”

He felt Sam’s hand run through his hair scratching at his scalp. “Good boy,” It took everything in him to not fall flat on his face. What the fuck were they doing and why did it feel so good?

He had no time to question it, not with another command escaping Sam’s lips. “Lean forward a little for me. Hand and knees on the ground like the good dog I know you can be.”

Uggggh. The delectable words shot right through him. He had never imagined…but no he had. That’s why this was happening. He obeyed his legs, turning out a little as he leaned forward, his eyes locked on Sam’s own as he kept his hand in his hair forcing their gazes to meet. Love. That’s what he saw in Sam’s eyes and he hoped he saw the same in his.

His hands left his scalp and trailed down till he had a solid grip around his neck once again. The grip was strong but not tight, just a constant reminder of who was in charge. Who had control.

Sam’s voice was low but no less powerful as he began to explain. “I want to put this collar on you so everyone knows exactly who you belong to. Is that ok?”

Belonging to Sam. Bearing that truth, amongst others, on his skin. It was a desire he dare not share with anyone, but here it was being played out in real time for him. “Yes, sir,” he managed to respond back.

Sam’s eyes crinkled and he scratched at his beard again. It was a feeling that was starting to make his chest feel warm. “That’s my boy.” The collar was a thick band of leather that he left a little bit of give but felt just as tight as Sam’s grip had been only a minute ago. In other words, it was perfect. But they were not yet done.

Sam removed a long cord with a hook on his from his pocket. A leash. “So you don’t run away from me.”

He shook his head absently. “I would never do that.” The idea was preposterous. Where else would ever want to go?

He heard the click of an interlocking ring as Sam connected the leash to his collar, wrapping the cord slowly around his hand. “Exactly because you’re mine.” He couldn't hold it anymore let out a soft whine from the back of his throat. He gripped the loose gravel on the ground. He wanted to be touched so badly. He needed friction.

He rose to his feet and Bucky had no choice but to gaze upwards where Sam looked at him like you would a silly puppy. He felt even harder. “You’re feeling excited now?”

He nodded, scared of what other sounds would come out of his mouth if he attempted to speak. As if he could hear his thoughts, Sam stuck his leg out, his beautiful dress shoe shining in the low light of the night and pressed his foot hard against. Bucky's crotch. The friction he desired with a sharp side of pain. Exactly what he needed.

“I asked you a question, Bucky,” Sam repeated, keeping constant hard pressure against his junk.

He was leaning into the sensation damn near humping Sam’s foot. “Yes sir. I’m excited.”

“Yeah I can tell,” he said with a sharp smirk. “If I just kept this up, you would cum wouldn’t you?”

He could feel the pressure building in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t close by any means but a direct road to an orgasm had opened in front of him. He knew it and Sam knew it. “Hngg…yes…sir.”

Sam took his foot back then leaving him flustered and horny and leaking on the ground. “Then I better stop. We have places to be. Up.” He tugged on the leash and Bucky slowly rose to his feet. He went to dust off his pants, but Sam did that for him. He also fixed his suit jacket that had come undone and his hair as well. Because that’s what he had always been good at. Taking care of him and giving him what he needed, even if he didn’t recognize it in himself.

Once he was decent, Sam stepped in close enough that shared the same breath. The leash was wrapped once again around his knuckles and he pulled slightly down demanding submission that he already had from him. “We’re going to go inside and you are going to show everyone how much you adore me. You ready for that, pup?”

He couldn't help it. He kissed him then. A simple yes wouldn't be enough. He needed his lips, his breath, his body to tell Sam how much he was ready for that.

Sam chuckled as the kiss ended. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

Every date ended in sex. That was how it had been. Sex in the comfort of their shared fantasy home, or old apartments, hotels, or safehouses. It was intimacy of the highest order, but it was theirs in private. This date was sex. Dancing under hot strobing lights, drugs in the air, pleasure in every dark corner. Were people paying attention to them as he half stripped Sam in the middle of the club, turned him around, shoved himself deep into his tight pussy? At that moment, he could not care less. Because Sam was his priority. It was an obvious realization to come to, and yet it had taken him far too long to realize this. He thought because of his desire to protect Sam, defend Sam, plow Sam into any available mattress that he was in charge. No, submission to this man was clear. He had feared losing control, but with Sam at the reins, he knew he would be ok. Ok to be himself, no matter how monstrous or overwhelming he felt. He was a beast, but he was Sam’s beast.

He kissed and bit and spit furiously at his sweat stained neck, enjoying his heat until the world began to fade away. There was no club anymore. No music, no voyeuristic hedonism. Just the soft mattress of Bob's bed and Bob himself looking right at him with those widee puppy dog eyes of his own. A pup more needy than even him. They were wrapped together. He could feel his erection against Bob’s and a dark thought passed through his mind. Because the fantasy was gone, but his reaction to it wasn’t. He still needed release. Would the kid..?

His thought was cut off by Bob’s lips crashing against his own and a soft “Please” passing between them. It assuaged his guilt some as they grinded together, making out sloppily, both of them falling over the waterfall of pleasure, seeking satisfaction in its murky depths. He wasn’t Sam. Too young, too green, too pale. But he was a body present and real in a way that so much wasn't. And as he finally came, he came to a devastating realization. There was a difference. Sex in the real world versus the dream world. It was more tangible here. A true rise and fall. Their panting breaths and stained deflated cocks were proof of that.

And that’s why this had to end. They didn’t talk about that night. Bucky hadn’t even suggested that they shower afterward, merely doing his best to leave conspicuously from the room and make his way back over to his side of the Tower. Lines were being crossed or perhaps they had been crossed for far too long. He didn’t want to lead Bob on. What this was…it both was and was not about him. He didn’t deserve that. So he was going to call it off. One night. But the nights kept coming. He needed something to force a break.

You have something you idiot. Not something, but someone. The person who this was all about in a way. Sam. He had fucked him in the middle of a public club. It wasn’t necessarily a fear, but it was an unimaginable thought for him until they had begun these nightly dream visits. Perhaps he could have something like that in reality? Not necessarily so explicit off the bat, but maybe honesty? Tell Sam that he could handle loving him out loud, in public for all the world to see, even with all of his faults.

He was mulling the idea over in his bedroom of the Watchtower when his phone vibrated. The caller ID gave him a mini heart attack. It was Sam. Was this a sign? He let it vibrate two more times before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey Grumpy Gus, you home?”

Did he want to drop by? Do a house call? There was no way right? “Why?” he asked, hoping he was calm and even over the phone.

“So I can make sure the hit I put out on you is successful. Why do you think?”

He sat up and put his feet on the ground. The left one began to tap immediately. “You want to come to the Watchtower?”

“No, I want you to let me in. Maybe even walk me up if you want?”

His heart was going to rip itself out of his chest. “Huh?”

He could hear Sam suck his teeth. “Bucky just check your videocom system, damn.”

It was a command from Sam. He obeyed with no question. The videocom was like a framed IPAD on his side table. He tapped on the camera app and his heart fully stopped then.

Sam was in the lobby of the Watchtower leaning on the large welcome desk with no employees present. Next to him, Bob of all fucking people, an expression on his face like he was close to hurling.

His eye caught the camera and he gave him a little wave with the hand that didn't have the phone pressed to his cheek. “Can we talk?” Sam asked.