Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bucky is fidgeting with his black coffee, scratching at the logo on the side of the cup. This is not an abnormal occurrence- ever since he got back from the Iraq with his arm blown off, he fidgets. His friend Sam (who’s a psychiatrist but knows better than to remind Bucky of that) says it’s a common symptom for PTSD.

Bucky still hasn’t fidgeted this bad in awhile. But this is a big day. He’s at the dog park with his siberian husky Winter, and any minute now Steve Rogers will be coming into the park with his golden cocker retriever Peggy. Peggy’s an old gal, but she has Steve, Bucky, AND Winter wrapped around her paw. In fact, Winter and Peggy are best friends.

Best wing-dog ever.

Because Steve Rogers is the most gorgeous thing Bucky has ever laid his eyes on, and today is the day Bucky asks him to be his roommate.

Bucky’s metal arm crushes his coffee at the thought. He curses and reminds himself for what has to be the third time to go to Tony to get it recalibrated.

(Tony Stark had picked Bucky from a long list of dismembered veterans to spearhead the robotic limb program of Stark Industries. Bucky never understood why, but Tony seemed to enjoy zapping him with things, so there was that).

Bucky breathes in and out heavily through his nose and checks his watch. The fact that Steve-Never-Late-Even-When-It-Thunderstorms-Rogers is 5 minutes late is concerning. Bucky is thinking of calling in the National Guard.

It’s also doing wonders for his confidence. Winter, his trusty service dog and all-around best friend, notices and butts her head under Bucky’s flesh arm. Bucky thankfully rubs her head to make his fidgeting less noticeable. His left leg starts bouncing, because why would his body ever listen to him?

He decides to remind himself of the reasons he is asking the walking Adonis that is Steve Rogers to move in with him.

• Bucky Barnes is an excellent cook.

Tony Stark discovered this when Bucky brought in some cranberry walnut brown butter muffins as a thank you. Tony had barely let him out of the shop that day, and only after Bucky had scribbled down the recipe on a generator receipt. The next time Bucky had come back into Tony’s lab, Tony had informed Bucky that he was hired as a consulting chef for Food Network. His new job was to design the recipes that actual TV chefs would use.

“Because trust me, Tin Man. If I can recreate the nirvana that is your muffins, any idiot can.”

Bucky has lost track of how much he owes Tony Stark. But he has made Tony his unofficial taste-tester, so that’s something.

• He can’t bring himself to just ask Steve out on a date. He knows it’s pathetic but he- he’s not there yet. So he’s hoping maybe Steve’ll just magically fall in love want to bang it out with him if he’s forced to be in a confined space with Bucky for hours upon end.

(Sam says that it’s the dumbest idea he’s ever heard, but you’re not suffering from PTSD and have crippling anxiety just from leaving the house, are you Sam? No? Didn’t think so.)

• Bucky would be an excellent roommate. The idea of having a party fills his stomach with dread, he’s super clean, AND he has an extra bedroom.

Turns out the Food Network pays well.

• Steve Rogers could use a place. His current roommate Brock has been making unwanted advances and Steve, the world’s most perfect yet violent angel, has already had to resort to physical violence to get him to behave.

This makes Bucky’s blood boil. BUT it also provides an opportunity. And since Bucky has always known when to strike most effectively, he knows that this is the perfect opportunity. Operation “Make Steve Rogers Mine” is a go.

So yes, Bucky has a plan. He’s been plotting his shot since Steve Rogers first sat down next to him and just- talked. Bucky had been shaking and fidgeting and on the verge of a full on panic attack just from being outside. But Winter deserved to see other dogs, even if he couldn’t handle other people, so Bucky left the safety of his apartment for the dog park 2 blocks away. It had been a terrible idea that turned out to be the best thing to happen to Bucky in awhile.

Because Steve Rogers plopped down next to Bucky on what would become ‘their bench’. He didn’t say anything at first, but then he just- he started talking. He talked about nothing Bucky can remember, but it got him through being in public for the first time in awhile. Bucky still doesn’t know how Steve knew, but he’d brought cream cheese cookies as a thank you the next day and then-

Bucky was hooked at Steve Roger’s first moan. He’d gotten a shot of arousal down his spine that had bolted him to his seat, the first one he could remember since before the war and his sniper days.

So here Bucky was. 7 months and many, many “dog dates appointments” later, ready to take the biggest risk he had taken since enlisting.

Now if only Steve Rogers would have the decency to show up.

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Steve Rogers doesn’t show up that day. He doesn’t show up the next day either. Bucky has almost given up hope. After all, Steve doesn’t owe him anything. Who would want to hang out with a long-haired weirdo in the park? Steve Abs-of-Steel Rogers has to have a million better things (and people) to do. He probably got fed up with talking to Bucky about their collective shit and decided to move on. Who would want someone who flinches a loud sound and breaks out into a sweat at the prospect of physical contact?

Bucky is on the verge of having Winter take him to the nearest bar when a disheveled Steve Rogers appears behind the far dog gate.

Without Peggy.

Bucky is off of the bench in an instant, profiteroles sprawled on the ground from where they were sitting in tupperware on his lap. He’s across the dog park in a second, narrowly avoiding the traffic caused by excited puppies trying to grab the discarded treats.

Steve is just crossing the gate entrance when Bucky engulfs him in his arms.

Steve inhales sharply through his nose, and Bucky almost panics. He’s never touched Steve before- he’s been so good about it. His fingers twitch around Steve for completely different reasons, mostly to resist the urge to drop to his knees and have Steve stroke his hair and tell him what a good boy he is.

It’s not a dog thing. It’s a Hi-I’m-Bucky-Barnes-And-Not-Only-Do-I-Have-A-Metal-Arm-I-Also-Like-Kink. Yes, Bucky knows he’s a real catch. He’s not even worthy to touch the majesty that is Steve Rogers, he should back off right now-

Then Steve’s arms are around him, grasping Bucky around his back and waist fervently as he chokes out a sob against Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky-

Bucky feels like he’s home.

He doesn’t say anything. He just holds Steve, whose tall frame folds around Bucky like it would pain him to part.

Bucky rubs Steve’s back with his metal arm (he’ll analyze the fuck out of that with Sam later) and awkwardly nuzzles Steve’s temple, but Steve seems to be grateful for all of it. Steve just shakes a bit in Bucky’s arms, so Bucky starts awkwardly walking them back to their bench. Past the mad pack of sugar-high dogs. It’s easier said than done.

They collapse in a tangle of limbs on the bench, and Steve seems to jolt and realize the position they’re in. In public, no less. He goes to move away and Bucky lets him. It’s another pathetic thing about him- he’d do anything for Steve Rogers.

But Steve doesn’t go far, just readjusts them so his arm is around Bucky’s shoulders and Bucky is leaning against Steve’s shoulder. Bucky’s heart nearly stops. If Steve starts to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, Bucky might melt into the bench.

“Sorry, Buck.” Steve chuckles when Bucky shakes his head vehemently.

“I forgot, we don’t say sorry for sharing our feelings. Who made that stupid rule anyway?”

Bucky pokes Steve in between his fourth and fifth ribs. The ones closest to Steve’s heart. What Steve doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Steve chuckles again and wipes at his eyes. Bucky almost whines he’s so distraught at Steve’s pain. Steve, as always, seems to sense this in Bucky and gives his shoulder a squeeze. Even though it’s his metal one, Bucky soaks up the barely-there pressure.

“At ease, soldier. I’m gonna be alright.”

(Bucky clamps down every muscle he has not to react to THAT. Steve was a Captain in the army, a fact that has kept Bucky and his dick awake at night).

Steve sighs. “I’m just- it’s been a rough few days. Peggy…” Steve pauses and takes another deep inhale. “Peggy passed. She was a class act until the end. You know she actually snuggled me when they were putting her under? Just put her paw on my hand, like she was telling me it was going to be alright.”

Bucky reaches and squeezes Steve’s hand, and Steve squeezes back. He sighs again,

“She was there for me when I got home from my last tour, you know? She was there after every tour. No matter how bad it had been over there, she was there with those big brown eyes to keep me on the straight and narrow. I owe her so much and now she’s-“

Steve buries his face in his other hand again, and Bucky hugs him even tighter. At this point he’s practically wrapped around Steve like an emotional octopus.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here the last few days. I look forward to this every day, but I couldn’t face seeing the other dogs. You and Winter, what you have is so special and it just reminds me of Peggy so much. I should have called but I’ve kind of had my hands full. Brock…”

This time Bucky can’t help the growl that escapes him. Steve chuckles again.

“Yeah, he’s a real gem. Peggy always hated him and he’s had the gall to act happy that she’s gone. I almost socked him right in the eye yesterday, it’s getting bad. Now that Peggy’s not- not around, I don’t have to worry about her not liking a new apartment. So I’ve been trying to look for places too, but have you seen the shit-holes they’re selling in New York? And I want to stick in Brooklyn which is rough enough-“

“Move in with me.”   The words are out of Bucky’s mouth before he can swallow them, and Steve stills below him.

“Buck- I can’t ask that of you, that’s way too much. Plus, won’t Winter be jealous?”

It’s a light tone. It’s giving Bucky an out, hinting at his anxieties without quite addressing them head on. Bucky would be grateful if he weren’t so desperate to get Steve Rogers in in in in his life.

“Please, she loves you more than me at this point. You can always find that spot on her belly. Besides, I’ve got an extra bedroom. You’d be saving me from a creepy Craigslist scenario.”

It’s fine. I can deal with it if it’s you. Please.

Steve, as usual, seems to hear him loud and clear. He gives Bucky a small grin and Bucky feels a small high from doing something right for Steve Rogers.

“Well I suppose my next question is…. How much is rent?”

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Bucky’s been on a baking spree. He tends to do it when his PTSD is acting up (“Going through shit, man. And it’s healthy” Sam’s voice rings out in his head).

But not this day! Today he’s baking because Steve Rogers is moving in, so Bucky’s broken brain translated that into Must-Welcome-Steve-With-A-4-Course-Meal.

“Because why not scare him away immediately, huh Winter?” Bucky asks his husky.   Winter cracks an eye open then goes right back to lounging in her spot in the sun. Bucky’s laid blankets and pillows out over 20 feet of the apartment by the window that is unofficially Winter’s domain and bed.

Bucky figures she deserves it. She’s really what lets him get out of the house most days.

Bucky hears a knock on the door just as he’s putting the two stuffed Cornish hens into the oven. Perfect, they will be ready by the time Steve is finished packing. He doesn’t bother taking off his apron (which Sam got him for Christmas. It says ‘Mr. Good Lookin’ Is Cookin’ and Bucky thinks it’s hilarious), just pads over barefoot in his black v-neck cotton shirt and light grey sweat pants.

He opens the door to Steve’s sunny face and has to lean against the doorframe to keep from swooning. Because Muscle-Muscle-Man Steve Rogers has a perfectly duck-taped box on his shoulder and his arm is flexed in his white tee and Bucky might be drooling.

Steve’s smile widens. “Hey there, roomie! Care to give me a hand? I have a lot of boxes, but don’t worry it’s mostly art stuff. It’s real light.”

Bucky sarcastically waves his metal arm so it flashes in the hallway light and Steve laughs before entering the apartment after Bucky steps aside.

“Yeah, yeah, showoff. Just for that you can grab the box full of art books. 3^rd and 4^th one from the back! Hey, which one is my room? And wow it smells amazing in here!”

“Second door on your right.” Bucky watches Steve retreat down the hallway, his presence already filling the entire apartment. Winter pokes her head around and starts rubbing herself against Steve’s legs, to Steve’s clear delight. He bends down to pet her with his free hand and Bucky’s eyes greedily take in Steve’s ridiculously tiny waist and Dad jeans which do nothing to hide a fantastically sculpted ass.

Bucky resists the urge to fan himself. Instead he finds one of Steve’s ridiculously large and heavy box of books and takes it to Steve’s room. As he passes Steve in the hallway he calls out “Dinner should be ready in a little under an hour, so please tell me you brought the beer?”

Steve Rogers looks back down the hallway at the retreating and sinful ass of Bucky Barnes in his sweatpants. His heart had leapt into his throat when he had first seen Bucky barefoot, looking more vulnerable and welcoming in his own home that Steve thought possible.

Steve had first seen Bucky Barnes on a cool fall day. The man appeared dangerous to the untrained eye, but Steve’s been a nurse for a few years now. He recognized the symptoms of a panic attack so he approached the stranger in the dog park, talking about nothing in particular when the man seemed to calm down a bit.

Then Bucky had looked up at him with those grey-blue eyes and Steve had been struck to his core. Even unshaven and in dirty jeans, Sergeant Bucky Barnes was the most gorgeous thing Steve had ever seen.

Ever since then Steve’s been trying to be the rock to Bucky Barnes’ stormy and calms seas. He goes religiously to the dog park every day he can to worship at the altar that is the struggling, strong, devastatingly kind and thoughtful sniper. Steve wants nothing more than to wrap himself into Bucky’s life and share it with him.

He also wants to care for Bucky. Intimately. Because he can’t get the image of a strung-out Bucky Barnes whimpering on his dick, begging to cum, and then sobbing out in frustration and joy when Steve whispers ‘no’.

He wants to draw Bucky touching himself. He wants to stroke Bucky’s hair and tell him how perfect he is.

Because while Steve Rogers isn’t always aware or appreciative of people’s attraction towards him, he knows that Bucky has been struggling to make them more-than-just-friends. And if this is what Bucky needs to convince himself of what Steve already knows (that they’ll make one helluva team) Steve is willing to be a little devious and play the oblivious roommate for awhile.

Who will definitely be walking around shirtless after showers. Obliviously, of course.

But that’s for later. He doesn’t want to move too fast and spook Bucky, because attraction is one thing but kink is another, and Steve just doesn’t know how much Bucky can trust right now.   So Steve Rogers watches Bucky Barnes walk down the hall and grins to himself. Operation Sweep-Barnes-Off-His-Feet is a go.

“Sure thing, Bucky. I’ve got you.”

Chapter Text

Steve and Bucky fall into living together easy as ABC. Bucky knows he should be worried but he’s mostly just ecstatic that he can function around another person normally. Before he could only really stand Natasha and Sam, but now if he goes more than a day without seeing Steve he actually gets lonely.

Which does happen on occasion. Steve is an ER nurse and his schedule is less than predictable. Bucky found this out on his first week with Steve.

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It’s early September, and still unfathomably hot out. It doesn’t matter for Bucky, because his latest projects all include fall flavors for the next season on the Barefoot Countessa. God, some days he really hates pumpkin. Today however is a welcome break- squash.

There few things Bucky loves more than a good butternut squash soup. It’s fairly common in most restaurants, but Bucky has been dreaming up some new ideas. Mostly involving bacon. And not at all because Winter and Steve eat all his leftover bacon when he cooks with it. Sometimes Steve will wrestle a bit to get over Bucky’s shoulders and pick some bacon out of the pan, yelping when it burns his tongue.

Bucky’s face burns from the lingering heat of their shoulders brushing, not the stove. He still buys and cooks twice as much bacon than he used to.

Regardless, Bucky’s hours have been a bit sporadic and he’s got a deadline coming up, so he’s up and cooking away when Steve gets home at 5:30AM after a night shift. Bucky knows it’s been a bad day because Steve just throws his bag into his room. It makes a loud crashing sound, which Steve ignores in favor of shuffling into the living room and plopping face down on the couch. He then lets out a groan into the cushions that is entirely exhaustion and frustration.

Bucky hums in sympathy and immediately ladles Steve a piping hot bowl of his Butternut-Bacon-Cinnamon-Carrot soup. It’s a work in process but he thinks it tastes pretty damn awesome if he does say so himself. He tosses Winter a spare piece of bacon as he passes by her window domain. She snaps it up from the air without blinking before going back to lazing on her pillow fort.

Steve rolls over when Bucky taps him on the shoulder, aqua scrubs clinging unfairly to his pecs as he does. Bucky manages to roll his eyes and hands Steve the soup and a spoon. Steve’s eyes light up and he immediately begin to shovel the soup Bucky spent 3 hours on into his gob.

He finishes the entire bowl in 30 seconds and looks back up at Bucky hopefully. Bucky thinks about his deadline and the taste-test he promised the set manager later in the day.

He goes back to the kitchen and pours one quarter of the soup into a plastic container. He then turns the heat down low on the stockpot and gestures to Steve, who pulls one of their dining room table chairs up to the stove and plants himself in front of it. He pauses every 10 bites to eat another piece of bacon, and Bucky nibbles on his own pieces as he tells Steve about the recipe.

“The cinnamon’s the trick. I knew I wanted bacon, but I wanted some sweetness too. Then I remembered this candied bacon recipe and it really just came together.”

“I wanna take a bath in this. After I take a normal bath. This is amazing, Buck. As usual.”

Bucky blushes and ducks his head, brushing some of his stray hair behind his ear. Praise from Steve affects him differently on any given day, but today it just makes him squirm. Steve’s mood is too tired for him to get too excited.

Steve and Bucky chew and slurp in companionable silence for a few more minutes, then Steve begins to talk between mouthfuls.

“Today was a bad one. Kid came in with welts all over his body, Mom was freaking out. Turns out he had slept over his Dad’s house and Dad took an electrical cord to him. Used the end of the cord though, which bruises something awful.”

Bucky murmurs a soft “Jesus fucking Christ,” below his breath and Steve mutters “Language” back. Usually that will make then both chuckle a bit, as Steve doesn’t like hard language and Bucky has a mouth like… well, like he spent time in the army. Today though it only appears to give him the conviction to continue his story.

“Anyway, mom finds out and starts FLIPPING out. Called the Dad screaming that he would never see his son again. Kid was crying, kept saying it was his fault. Then the Dad shows up at the hospital.”

Bucky breathes out through his nose harshly, already knowing what’s coming.

“Big man like that, thought he’d put up more of a fight.”

Bucky knows by now that means “I nearly put him through the fucking wall,” and gives Steve an once-over for any damage. Besides some red scratches on his knuckles, he seems to be fine so Bucky loosens his spine a little.

“ ‘M fine Buck. You worry too much.”

“You’ve been in like 3 altercations this month Steve. I’m allowed to worry, it’s kind of what I do.”

“I can take care of myself,” Steve says and Bucky rolls his eyes. He has no doubt all 220 lbs. of solid muscle, Steve Rogers, can handle himself. What Steve Rogers apparently can’t do is recognize the difference between someone fearing for his safety and someone thinking he’s weak.

Steve hasn’t explained why yet.

Steve continues, “And after all of that, Mom starts freaking out about how Dad is doing. The family ends up leaving together. Kid’ll be back in that house by the end of the week, maybe with Mom this time.”

Bucky stares at Steve for a minute, traces the lines of anger in Steve’s forearms with his eyes. When he does speak it’s softly, knowing that Steve Rogers is a calming sea right now.

“Can’t beat sense into people, Stevie. When she’s ready she’ll get the kid out. Or maybe he’ll get out on his own. Nothin’ you can do except be there for them if they come back into your hospital.”

Steve looks like he’s about to argue, so Bucky cuts him off. “Nothin’ you can do for most people sometimes but be there for them until they’re ready.”

Bucky looks at his feet then, embarrassed at referencing a state of mind that he still lives in sometimes. He misses Steve’s fond, proud look before his face breaks into a grin.

“Stevie?”

Bucky reaches into the sink and chucks a wooden spoon at him, which Steve lazily dodges, laughing. “You call me Buck! Sides, it suits you.”

Steve grins wider back at Bucky over a spoonful of soup. He gives Bucky a meaningful look and murmurs, “Yeah Buck, it sure does.”

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So yes, Steve and Bucky’s schedules are unpredictable. But some things have become steady tradition. They both walk Winter together at every available opportunity, taking her to the dog park like proud parents. Sometimes Steve tears up when he pets her but Winter just licks his face until he smiles again.

His dog has more game than Bucky does.

Walking Winter is a staple of their new life together. But thanks to one bad night, Friday is unofficial-but-always-adhered-to Movie Night.

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By October Steve knows that Bucky has completely spoiled him. Ruined him for all other men and cooks. Because if Steve ever thought that he would have the edge on their feelings, he did not count on Bucky’s cooking skills.

Because holy matza balls Batman, Bucky has wooed the pants right off of Steve with his cooking.

Bucky’s brownies made Steve go on extra runs, even with his metabolism. He ate an entire tray by himself once, and even though Bucky half-heartedly scolded him it was worth every bite. Bucky’s spicy red-sauce gnocchi made Steve stop ordering out for Italian food.

In fact, he’s stopped ordering out altogether. There’s no point. Every place is bound to disappoint him, because at this point Bucky’s cooked it better for him.

And looked better doing it. God, what Steve would give to have Bucky cook for him wearing nothing but his apron. He wonders if Bucky would let him feed him his own creations. Bucky is always too critical of his own cooking abilities, and Steve just knows with the right kind of praise and “reward system” Bucky would start taking the appropriate amount of pride in his work.

Steve’s sketchbook is full of images of Bucky cooking. Some of the pain that lines his eyes goes away when he’s in the kitchen, and he looks at peace. Bucky in the kitchen is calm, efficient and devastatingly sexy, comfortable in his own skin in a way he never is outside of the apartment.

(Steve has a whole other sketchbook full of individual parts of Bucky’s body. His lips, his arms (flesh and metal), his calves. Some full body pieces as well. There’s a particular drawing of Bucky’s torso twisted and arced in pleasure, Bucky’s mouth half-opened in ecstasy that Steve may jerk off to occasionally. It’s exactly what he thinks Bucky would look like being edged.)

The point is, if Steve was smitten before he’s hopeless now. Even Bruce, the lab technician, has been making fun of him. Which yes, he expects as much from Thor, the huge Scandinavian doctor and one of Steve’s best friends, but Bruce?

Man, he must be really stinking up the place with his lovelorn eyes.

But however awesome Steve thinks Bucky is, Bucky still has his down days. One of them happens during the first weekend in October. Steve wakes up around 6:30PM on a Saturday, which isn’t so unusual for a nurse who’s been working a few night shifts.

What is unusual is Bucky is not baking when he enters the kitchen. Instead, he’s staring listlessly at the TV that’s on some mindless reality… gold mining show?

What’s really concerning is he’s eating a bowl of cornflakes. Bucky hates cornflakes. He makes fun of Steve for eating them.

“Buck, what are you doing! You hate cornflakes!”

Steve doesn’t really know what his plan is, but his first move is to open the curtains. It’s pitch black out, but hey it’s the gesture that counts. Then he walks over to the kitchen and made two huge bowls of Fruit Loops before plopping down on the couch. He steals the cornflakes Bucky had been mechanically eating and replaces it with the sugary cereal, then starts flipping through the channels.

“Oh, Blazing Saddles! I know everyone’s all about Young Frankenstein, but this has always been my favorite Mel Brooks movie. Ever seen it?”

Bucky shakes his head no and stirs his cereal. The bowl is so full some of loops spill over and onto his lap, and Steve resists the urge to grab them. Instead he casually rests his arm behind Bucky on the back of the couch. At first Bucky says nothing, but by the time they’ve finished both their bowls he’s sitting marginally closer to Steve and actually chuckling whenever Lili Von Schtupp is on the screen.

When Hedley Lamar’s gang starts going back for dimes, Bucky says lowly,

“It’s bad enough I came back with my body fuckin’ deformed. But my brain not working is worse. I hate that despite all my training, every time I go outside I’m afraid someone’s gonna make me a victim. Because I’ve seen what humans do to each other, and I don’t know how to feel safe anymore.”

Steve doesn’t look at Bucky for a while. Bucky appreciates that more than he can say. When Steve does speak, it’s so softly Bucky almost feels like crying.

“When I was younger I was small. I’m talking 90 pounds soaking wet. Still got into just as many fights. Never really saw my self as a victim, but I suppose I was a lot of the time.”

Bucky makes a surprised noise of agreement. He can’t really imagine Steve as anything but the huge, hulking masterpiece sitting next to him.

“Had a thousand and one things wrong with me. Asthma, heart problems, half-deaf. Still am, since there’s no cure for that one. A doctor fixed me up eventually with an experimental treatment, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it past 25. I owe Dr. Erksine my life, he was a great man.”

Steve clears his throat,

“Anyway, I would have bet my life back then that people would have been… I don’t know, better, once I got bigger. But they didn’t. Bullies are still bullies, just now I can actually put them down.”

Steve turns and looks at Bucky then,

“I’m not saying humanity doesn’t try to tear into itself some days. We’ve both seen too much to say that. But I also know that there’s a real-life battle every day to keep the good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for. That’s why I do what I do. And you’re fighting that battle too, Buck. Everyday.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, so Steve decides to take a chance and slowly loops his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, just like the dog park. Bucky’s been getting better with some casual touches, and Steve hopes he’s not reading too much into it-

Bucky is latched onto his side in an instant. Steve crushes him to his chest and just rubs his back as they just breathe together, taking comfort in the warmth coming from the other man. Steve nuzzles his head into Bucky’s hair and inhales Bucky’s musky scent, which is laced with coffee beans today.

Bucky tries desperately to memorize how Steve’s strong arms feel around him, holding him steadfast and safe.

It turns out he doesn’t need to. Saturday night movie nights become a thing, with Steve ending up holding Bucky almost the entire time. Neither man makes a big deal about it, as it feels too natural to say anything.

Which, of course, is when Bucky almost completely fucks it all up.

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It’s mid-November, and Bucky is doing great. Really, everything is amazing. Steve and he get to cuddle every weekend now! And Steve’s eyelashes have weirdly inspired him in his cooking, so his boss is happy. He’s getting out more and socializing, thanks to Steve always wanting to take Winter out for a walk.

Everything feels safer with Steve.

Even Sam says he’s improving! Also that he needs to make a move on that. And Bucky’s thinking about it, he really is. He just… if this is the only time he gets to spend with Steve before he’s rejected and heart broken, he wants to make it last.

That plan lasts 3 months. That’s all it takes for Steve Roger’s sexy caring and general nice-guy attitude to make him mess everything up.

It’s after one of their better movie nights. They had binged on some of Bucky’s buffalo chicken dip and snacks (what DOESN’T go with that stuff?), and Bucky had passed out halfway through At World’ End. Which is a real shame, because the whole trilogy is outstanding.

What’s slightly more upsetting is he wakes up with his head in Steve’s lap, Steve stroking his hair. You know. Exactly how every fantasy he’s had for almost a year now begins.

Bucky’s off Steve’s lap in an instant, murmuring an apology and fumbling over the couch. Like he actually climbs over the couch in his haste to get to the bathroom.

Bucky slams the door and shoves his sweatpants down to his knees, cock half-hard and leaking. He throws his head back against the door and badly stifles his moan but then he realizes.

He doesn’t care.

Bucky strokes his cock faster, whimpering and making no effort to hide his sounds. What if Steve is listening, right behind the door? What if he were to come in here?

Oh God, Bucky’s cock pulses pre-cum and he grips himself almost harshly, metal hand going up and grabbing a handful of his hair. He pulls the way he likes to imagine Steve would- hard and controlled, sore pain tugging at his scalp.

He strokes up and down his cock faster, twisting at the top and taking time every once and awhile to press his palm to the leaking head.

He thinks about what Steve would do if he were in here.

Would Steve hold him in his massive, beefy arms and press his rippling chest to Bucky’s back? Would he shove a hand down Bucky’s pants, grasp the base of Bucky’s cock and bite his ear, whispering ‘Not until I tell you”?

Bucky moans and does exactly that. His cock throbs angrily in his hands and Bucky slides down the door until his bare ass hits the cold tile.

Bucky thinks about how Steve would pull down his own pants and oh- what does Steve’s dick look like? Bucky likes to think it’s thick, maybe swings a bit to the left and gets angry red like Steve when he blushes.

Whatever it looks like, Steve would grab his hair and grind Bucky’s face into his crotch, wouldn’t let Bucky take it into his mouth and smear his pre-cum all over Bucky’s lips and cheeks, marking him. Bucky would open his mouth and chase it with his tongue, but Steve would just pull harder until Bucky begged.

“Please Steve, please I want it, please I’ll be so good please, just a taste just a little taste…”

Bucky cums with the image of Steve feeding Bucky his cock and holding him there and just making him take it. He shoots all over himself and the cold tile and gives an embarrassingly low, obvious moan when he does.

Afterwards he slumps against the door, sated and satisfied in a way only a good orgasm can give. Jesus, he can’t remember the last time an actual human being gave it to him as good as imaginary Steve. He stretches and yawns, sleepiness from his nap coming back in full force.

It’s only then he hears Steve’s door close that his eyes fly back open.

Oh no.

Chapter Text

Steve is freaking out. FREAKING OUT over here. Because exactly 3 days ago he heard one Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, star of every sexual and romantic fantasy Steve has had for almost a year, jerk himself off in their bathroom.

And Bucky had cum. God, his sweet Bucky had begged and then cum moaning Steve’s name. All while Steve listened at the door, biting his fist and then running into his bedroom to jerk off in record time.

He’d say sorry to his carpet but he’s not. Not even a little bit.

What he is now, however, is in a bind. In retrospect he should have stayed. Waited until Bucky came out of the bathroom and then just swept him up in his arms, pressed Bucky up against the wall and just fucked Bucky’s mouth with his tongue, then his cock. Then reward his good boy afterwards by making him cu so many times he was sobbing.

That’s what Steve SHOULD have done. Instead, he’d cum in his room and cum into his fist, stroking himself hard and rough at the thought of Bucky in front of him.

Because while Steve knows what he heard, he also knows that Bucky hasn’t made any overt moves to him in person. And from what Steve knows of Bucky’s past, he’s not going to be another person to take advantage of Bucky. Steve’s new mission in life is to make Bucky feel loved and safe in his arms- Steve’d rather cut his own hand off then mess that up.

As a result, the past few days have been a sweet torture.

Because Bucky knows. Bucky knows that Steve heard him. And what’s more, Bucky knows that Steve knows that Bucky knows.

And the little shit isn’t doing anything about it.

No, that’s not fair. He’s doing something. He’s driving Steve out of his goddamn mind, that’s what he’s doing. Every day has been filled with an undercurrent of sexual tension that has Steve leaving for work buzzed and anxious. It’s an almost painful level of awareness, that any move in between them could be the one that sparks the bonfire.

Because Bucky looks at Steve now. Looks at Steve with half-lidded eyes and a charm-breaker smile and tilts his hips out while asking Steve ‘won’t you try my cookies, Steve? Tell me if they’re too sweet?’ and Steve does. Steve bites the damn cookie and makes eye-contact while he does it, licking the chocolate off his lips and daring Bucky to do something about it.

Bucky’s response is to take a bite of his own cookie gleefully. Like Steve’s confirmed his suspicions or something. What suspicions could he possibly have at this point?

Steve literally walked into a door the other day when Bucky left his in a T-shirt and briefs. Because Bucky’s thighs are thick and muscular (Steve hears Bucky working out in the living room all the time) and Steve wants to bite his teeth into them, wants to suck bruises into them so Bucky can’t walk without feeling the sting of Steve’s love on his skin.

And Steve walked into a door! At the sight of Bucky in briefs! And the little shit knew, just smirked and asked if he was alright.

If Bucky lets him, Steve is taking him over his knee for that later.

But that’s the whole point. Bucky hasn’t asked yet and Steve… no matter how much eye-fucking they do, Steve can’t make a move until he’s absolutely sure.

The problem is he doesn’t know if Bucky will ever be absolutely sure. So where does that leave Steve?

---------------

“OH MY GOD dude, he likes you. He really, really likes you. He like likes you. He wants you to have all the babies with him.”

Bucky sighs at Sam’s outburst and waits for him to stop banging his head against the table. He invited Sam over to talk about ‘The Steve Situation” and it appears that it was too much for the licensed therapist to take.

Looking at the clock, Bucky realizes he’s been talking for a little over two hours. He takes the new batch of chocolate-caramel-chip cookies out of the oven and wonders aloud how time flew so fast.

“Because YOU like like him. And he sounds actually perfect for you and you’re this messing up.”

THAT gets Bucky’s attention. He whirls and sends cookies flying from the tray, one of which Sam catches and then immediately plays hot potato with. Bucky waves his spatula incredulously,

“What?!? No I’m not! He hasn’t asked me out yet!”

Sam bites some of the cookie, winces at the heat, and then chews slowly. He only starts talking again when Bucky gives him a glass of milk.

“Yes, you are. Look, this guy is ex-military too. He knows what PTSD looks like, and he knows you’ve got it.”

Bucky looks away and Sam makes a ‘go on’ gesture. Bucky grumbles but eventually mutters,

“And that’s alright, because I’m working on it and doing great.”

Sam nods.

“Damn tootin’. Look, Steve sounds like a great guy. More importantly, he sounds like a guy who has been and is going to be incredibly respectful of the boundaries you’ve set.”

Bucky stares at him, spatula cocked on hip. Sam sighs and sticks his hand out, and Bucky puts another cookie into it. Sam grins and dunks it into the milk, continuing,

“He’s not going to make the first move. He needs you to do that or he’s not going to at all, and then hey! It sounds like you’ve got another really awesome friend!”

Sam smirks as Bucky stares at him in horror. Then protests as Bucky starts picking him up and out of his chair, pushing Sam towards the door.

“Hey, watch the goods! Can’t I have another cookie?”

Bucky hands Sam the entire tray and slams the door in Sam’s face. Sam shakes his head and starts walking down the hallway, munching as he goes.

----------------

“Brother Steven, may I have your ear?”

Steve nods and mentally asks himself, for what has to be the 900^th time, why his Nordic best friend talks like he’s a 12^th century Viking. Some mysteries are better left unsolved.

He nods and walks over to Thor, who is standing at the nurse’s station smiling dazzlingly next to a buxom and gorgeous raven-haired woman. Steve nods at her and she gives him a saucy, dazzling smile back. Steve likes her already.

“This fair lady is the closest friend of my beloved, Jane. She is a stranger in this land and requires a guide to safely navigate the night.”

Steve is delighted. “New in town? Have you ever been to New York before, miss….?”

“Darcy. And no, never been anywhere this cool in my life. Too busy being stuck in a lab with Jane back in the dessert. Can I borrow you and your muscles for a good time?” Darcy waggles her eyebrows and Steve laughs, scrubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Well, I kind of had a movie thing with my roommate planned…”

Darcy smiles tightly, clearly disappointed, and Steve feels like a dick. Thor nods his head towards the door and Darcy nods, walking down the hall and pretending to read the medical posters that line the blue wallpaper. Thor smiles at her winningly, then turns back to Steve with a murderous glare.

“If this is regarding Mister Barnes, it can wait.”

“You know it’s our tradition, and besides-“

“I know that love is in the air betwixt you two, but you said yourself- he may never be ready. Darcy is an extremely fair and funny young maiden, and she is alone in this large city.   For one night, can you please put your affections somewhere where they might be returned?”

Steve sighs and looks at his shoes. He wants to say yes, really he does. But he can’t get Bucky out of his head and while he knows Thor is just trying to be a good friend, Steve isn’t ready to give up right now.

(Or maybe ever, a little voice in his head whispers).

Thor sees Steve’s struggle and sighs, clasping a huge hand onto his shoulder. Steve smiles ruefully at Thor, who squeezes his shoulder in response.

“My apologies, Steven. I know your love is true, and your loyalty impossible to shake. I will find Darcy a proper escort.”

Steve shakes his head, “No, Thor. She seems like a swell gal. I’ll take her out tonight, just make sure she understands that I’m kind of already taken?”

Thor nods, and Steve waves at Darcy as he makes his way down the hallway to change. When he meets Darcy in the hallway about 20 minutes later he’s showered and ready to go, having texted Bucky that he was showing a new friend around New York City and would be back later. Darcy is bouncing on her heels and she loops her arm in his as they leave the hospital after saying goodbye to Thor.

“Where can I take you, ma’am?” Steve asks and Darcy laughs, squeezing his bicep appreciatively and says,

“Damn, it’s a real shame you’re taken. Because I have two tickets to a late-night World War II exhibit at the Smithsonian, and I really wanted a soldier to sing ‘Yankee Doodle’ with.”

Steve throws back his head and laughs, blushing again as he says, “Well, if there’s an open bar I just might.”

---------------

Bucky sees the text from Steve and his heart sinks. He throws down his stirring spoon and turns off the burners, putting a screeching halt to the romantic French dinner he was going to surprise Steve with. He texts back to Steve not to worry about it, and gets to work cleaning up his kitchen.

So Steve’s running around New York with a friend. Great! He’s supposed to do that. He’s a young, stunningly attractive, single man. Why would he want to shut himself in with Bucky on a Friday night?

Dammit. Bucky throws his rag at the trashcan and texts Steve back, telling him to have a great time and make sure not to let the tourist buy a street vendor hot dog. He feels infinitely better when Steve texts back within a minute, making no such promises. Bucky makes himself wait a few minutes before texting back that Steve’ll get a tummy ache and Bucky is ABSOLUTELY going to say ‘I Told You So’.

They text back and forth for another hour and a half- then Steve goes silent. Bucky knows not to worry, that Steve’s a big man who can take care of himself. But that’s not what Bucky’s really worried about.

What if Steve is 100% OK? What if he’s out remembering how much fun he has without Bucky? What if he’s wondering why he ever does anything with Bucky?

What if Steve’s never coming back?

Around midnight Bucky hears voices at the door. He creeps as stealthily as he can to the peephole and looks out to see-

Steve and a gorgeous doll talking amicably. Steve’s face is flushed, which means he’s been drinking a little, and her own cheeks are rosy. Steve’s asking if she’s sure she’s going to get a cab, that he can walk her home, and she shakes her head before-

She reaches up and kisses Steve. Right on the lips, and exactly how Bucky has wanted to do for almost a year now.

Bucky gasps and tears his eyes away. He stumbles, limbs feeling useless and heavy, into his room, knocking into the hallway walls as he goes. He slams his door and collapses, hugs his knees and counts to ten.

Bucky keeps rocking himself, even after he hears the front door almost immediately fly open. Even through Steve knocking on his door, begging him to come out.

“Buck, it was just a kiss goodbye! It didn’t mean anything, I swear it! We talked most of the night and that’s it, I promise! Bucky, please just talk to me!”

The knocking and talking goes on for awhile. Oddly enough, it helps Bucky to know he’s not alone. Not enough to let Steve in, but it does calm him enough to start breathing again like his chest wasn’t going to cave in.

Bucky eventually manages to get out a shaky, “Just feeling tired, Steve. Gonna go to bed.”

There’s a pause from the other side. Then Steve knocks once in defeat, sighing, “Bucky, I’m just going to be here in the morning.”

“You won’t,” Bucky thinks, “You’re going to work tomorrow. I can stay in here forever. I have snacks.”

“Fine, Steve. See you tomorrow.”

--------------

Steve waits until the last minute the next morning, knocking on Bucky’s door in despair.

“Buck, I know you’re in there. I’m leaving for work now, it’s safe to come out. Just… please talk to me soon?”

Bucky hears the front door close and still waits an hour before he crawls out from under his covers. Normally he’d be spiraling into a paranoid-fueled depression, but something about Steve has him shirking his past coping mechanism. Now he just storms to the kitchen to make some of the most delicious, SPICY tacos the world has ever seen.

His boss is ecstatic. Steve cries from the heat in his mouth and knocks on Bucky’s door throughout the night, pleading,

“I’ll even eat more of that death-rice if you’ll talk to me, Buck! I promise. Please, come out. I miss you.”

Bucky throws his pen at the door but it doesn’t work. Steve sees anything as a response and just doubles his efforts. Bucky is sure that his door has permanent dents in it from Steve’s knuckles.

Two days pass in a similar fashion. Bucky makes a mussel dish so fiery and delicious that his eyes water from smelling the broth. His boss actually yells at him, but Steve eats every drop. Bucky admires his devotion and almost wishes that he weren’t so furious that he could come out of his room and talk to Steve.

But he can’t. Because he is furious- not at Steve. He knows that what happened wasn’t Steve’s fault, and even if it was, he and Steve aren’t going steady. Steve can technically kiss anyone he wants.

No, Bucky is furious at himself. Because that girl outside his door was normal. Her brain probably worked exactly how it was supposed to, and what was he? Some PTSD-ridden war-vet with a metal arm and persistent stubble.

He wished Steve could take him out on the town. He wished he could be half the match for Steve that she seemed to be.

-------------

Bucky cooks spicy food for almost a week before he remembers- he hasn’t emptied the trash this week. It’s his official chore (the list is on the board), and to do so he’ll need to go into Steve’s room.

Bucky steels himself and waits for Steve to say goodbye after he eats his cereal outside of Bucky’s door in the morning (Bucky eats his breakfast bar at the same time, because whoever said he wasn’t pathetic?). After the front door closes Bucky begins to gather up the garbage, purposefully saving Steve’s room for last.

He stands in front of it with a CVS plastic bag, daring it to say something. When the inanimate object does not speak, he finally opens the door and goes in. He makes straight for the can at the corner of Steve’s desk, but he moves so fast he knocks over Steve’s sketchbook. Cursing, he picks it up and goes to put it back on the desk when he sees it.

Steve has drawn him. Steven Grant Rogers has seen fit to take him, unworthy mortal Bucky Barnes, and immortalize him on paper.

Bucky can’t help himself. He flips through the pages like a man hypnotized, mesmerized by the lines on the page. His own face and body stare back at him, unfamiliar through the eyes of another- happy, sad, anxious, cooking, worrying, smiling.

Bucky doesn’t think anyone’s ever seen him as clearly as Steve has. Everything he’s afraid of- all his insecurities, all his self-doubt- it’s all here on the page, lining his face. Steve’s seen it and found it so beautiful that he drew it.

Then Bucky turns the page and almost drops the book.

Because THAT- Steve has certainly never seen Bucky like THAT.

THAT is Bucky, naked and kneeling and looking up at the artist, hands tied behind his back and mouth open, gaze adoring. Bucky feels himself get achingly hard and fast, blood rushing to his cock at so quick a rate he feels dizzy.

He doesn’t stop looking.

On the next page he is writhing on what is clearly Steve’s bed (and oh yes Steve’s bed, Steve’s territory that gives Bucky’s cock another jolt). The arc of Bucky’s body is almost impossible, but Bucky finds himself salivating at the thought of just trying. The amount of detail Steve has spent putting the detail into Bucky’s hands fisting the covers has Bucky’s metal arm whirling in excitement. He shakily turns the next page and lets out a chocked breath, falling forward and bracing himself on Steve’s desk.

The picture is tame compared to what he just saw. It’s Bucky in Steve’s bed again, but this time on his front. The covers are just below the swell of his ass, and his left leg is sticking out from under the sheets. His shoulders are loose, arms splayed across the pillow and the rest of the bed above his head. His face is calm and peaceful, as he’s clearly fallen deeply asleep, hair mussed gently and curled around his ears.

Bucky stares at this foreign version of himself and feels his shivering, cowardly heart break open at the picture. Just the idea of this phantom him, this beautiful vision of a future that could be a possibility makes a part of Bucky crack and burst. He feels a fog lift from his brain, feels like a jubilant light has begun to shine on his skin.

He closes Steve’s notebook and picks up Steve’s trash, bringing it out to the chute. Then he hums to himself as he makes his way into the kitchen, a spring in his step and a song in his heart.

He’s got a romantic dinner for two to cook.

Chapter Text

Steve walks down the corridor to his and Bucky’s apartment with heavy footsteps. He feels bone weary. Nothing extraordinary happened at the hospital today, but ever since Bucky stopped talking to him life has seemed…heavier.

Steve is dreading going into an apartment and talking to a closed door again. His heart hurts not just for him, but for Bucky. Steve remembers how hard it was to trust people when he came back, and he knows that Bucky’s reaction is a product of his circumstances. It doesn’t make the feeling like glass is tearing into his chest go away when he sees that damned closed door- but he understands.

Steve puts his key into the lock and breathes out through his mouth. What Bucky AND he need right now is not a pity party. Bucky needs to have his feelings affirmed and to see how serious Steve is about this.

Because Steve is serious. Even if he had only been flirting with the idea of having a serious relationship with Bucky before, his ship had been sunk the day Bucky had tentatively offered him a bowlful of pasta after a hard day on the job. He wants that from Bucky and more- he wants the give and take of a real relationship.

Steve sighs and opens the door and almost groans out loud. For the first time in days, walking into the apartment doesn’t make his eyes water from the sheer strength of spices. Instead, the air is filled with the scent of sweet tomatoes, beef and creams. Steve actually has to lean against the wall to brace himself against the overwhelming aroma and his stomach gives a grumble.

Steve takes another deep breath (oh shit, does he smell black pepper?) and braces himself again. Just because Bucky is cooking not-death food does not mean Steve is getting any. Of the food. Or anything else…

Steve can’t even be bothered to be upset at this right now- the possibility of actually seeing Bucky for the first time in days has him bounding down the hallway, carelessly tossing his bag into his room once again. He kicks his shoes off into his room as well but not his socks, which turns out to be a mistake.

Because the sight that greets Steve in the kitchen has him sliding right into the beautifully set dining room table. The vase of roses in the center almost knocks over but Steve is able to blindly catch it.

Because he can’t take his eyes off of Bucky- Bucky, who is dressed in his ridiculously sexy-but-cute apron and dark grey dress slacks with a light blue dress shirt. Bucky, who is clean shaven and hair tied back in a messy bun. Bucky, who is staring at Steve with a startled look but still tossing the pasta in some sort of blush sauce.

“You OK there, Stevie?”

Steve can only nod and pretend his pinky toe is not throbbing and about to fall off.

“Yeah I’m- I’m great. It’s good to see you, Buck” Steve says earnestly, now actively fighting the urge to run up to Bucky and envelop him in a hug. ‘Don’t make it weird, Rogers,’ Steve desperately thinks. Bucky just smiles at him like nothing is wrong and goes back to tossing pasta. Steve gulps and looks around.

“So… uh, table’s set for two. Is Sam coming over?” Steve asks,

“Nope!” Bucky replies cheerily, popping the ‘p’. Steve’s heart sinks.

“Oh. So, you have a date?” Steve asks again and tries to sound not completely put off at the idea. He knows his face falls when Bucky quips back “Yup”, once again popping the ‘p’. Steve scrubs a hand over his face and nods.

“OK, well- it really was great to see you Buck. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Steve turns around to go and sit in his room and stare at the wall. Maybe later when he can feel his heart beating again, he’ll go and break a few punching bags at the gym.

He doesn’t even know how he’ll react when he sees the face of whoever gets to give Bucky the love he deserves.

Make that at least four punching bags.

Bucky watches Steve’s defeated form slump down the hallway and grins to himself. ‘Don’t back down, Barnes’ he thinks. Steve deserves to squirm a bit for that kiss. Bucky frowns just thinking about it and reaches for more red pepper flakes.

He stops himself when he remembers that he’ll be eating this meal too.

--------------------

Steve undresses in a daze. He feels his fingers go through the motions, peeling his scrubs off his body with indifference. It strikes him suddenly and intensely how much he misses Peggy. She would have known what to do, or at least licked his face until he figured it out.

As if on cue Steve hears scratching at his door. Moving from muscle memory he turns the knob and is almost instantly bowled over by a fuzzy husky whose literal job is to sense distress. Winter sternly accepts no resistance from him and backs Steve up to the bed until he is sitting with his back against his mattress, legs spread with Winter nuzzling his face and neck.

Steve gratefully buries his face in Winter’s fur and lets himself be comforted by the simple act of touch. Winter is patient and just rubs her muzzle against Steve’s shoulders and neck. Steve vaguely worries about the fact that he can’t cry yet, but knows (sadly) from experience that will come with time. In the meantime, he concentrates on breathing in and out and trying not to sneeze from Winter’s fur.

Two sharp raps come from his door and Steve looks up, bleary eyed. Bucky is standing in the doorway sans apron and holding a rose in his hand. Steve feels completely confused.

“Feel free to get dressed for dinner. Or, you know, not.” Bucky says, and Steve looks at Winter for help.

“Your date cancelled?” Steve asks, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“YOU’RE my date, punk. Now seriously, get dressed. I’m not sure I can control myself and I’m trying to be a gentleman here.” Bucky winks at him and tosses him the rose, which Steve is too stunned to even attempt to catch.

Then Bucky leaves, like he hasn’t completely turned Steve’s world around twice in one evening. Steve looks to Winter again for guidance. Winter pointedly stares at him and bops his head with her nose. The wet, cold poke gets Steve moving, and he scrambles up and runs over to his bureau.

Bucky smiles from the kitchen and finishes plating both of their dinners. He yelps when he feels something pinch his leg and looks down to see Winter’s disapproving gaze. He glares back at her until she turns on her paws and flounces away. Bucky places the entrée’s on the table and resolutely tells himself not to feel guilty.

“Hey,” comes a soft voice from the hallway, and Bucky looks up just to feels his heart try to escape his body through his throat. Steve is standing there flushed and breathing a little heavy, clad in black jeans and a simple button-up plaid shirt. He looks like a sexy lumberjack and Bucky wants to climb that tree.

What.

Steve blushes a bit and moves to the end of the table, pulling out the chair and gesturing for Bucky to sit. Bucky feels his face break out into a ridiculous grin and sits down, relishing the heat coming from Steve’s body. It’s been too long since Bucky had been around him, and he missed the way the air moved with Steve in the room.

Steve grins back and takes his place next to Bucky on the left side of the table. Steve looks at Bucky and nods towards the meal, waiting for Bucky to explain his cooking like he always does. Bucky seems a little dazzled but he shakes himself and makes a flourishing motion towards the plate.

“It’s really simple. I wanted something simple for you but there’s a lot of really great spices in there and some depth of flavor like- like how I feel about you.”

Steve’s eyes sparkle. He doesn’t look down at his plate, eyes glued to Bucky’s face.

“So it’s a take on Romanian meatball soup- it’s a thicker tomato-and-stuff soup or thinner sauce, depending how you look at it. There’s also handmade angel hair pasta, and I got that cheese you like too melted on the top.”

Steve reaches out and squeezes Bucky’s metal hand and bursts full of the praise he’s been holding back for a few days.

“It smells amazing Buck- seriously I almost walked into a wall. Thank you so much, nothing I would rather be doing right now. No one I’d rather be with.”

Bucky stares at his plate and twirls his knife in his other hand. It’s a nervous tick he’s never quite kicked.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I can’t take you out yet. I will one day, I swear I’m working on it. I just- I need more time and-“

Before Bucky can continue calloused hands gently lift his chin up, and he’s gazing into the baby blue eyes of Steven Grant Rogers. Those eyes crinkle as they smile at him and then they’re getting closer closer closer until-

Bucky’s own eyes flutter shut as their lips press together for the first time. It actually takes a moment for him to feel it- but a trail of warm, honey pleasure drips down his spine as their lips softly caress. Bucky feels his face tip up and his mouth go pliant as he basks in receiving tender, almost grateful kisses from Steve Rogers, who moves his hands up to frame Bucky’s face.

Bucky faintly hears himself whimper and Steve growl but neither move to deepen the kiss. Both are too overwhelmed. Bucky feels as if he can barely breath, the tide of warmth and sunshine under his skin threatening to overtake him completely. But that’s OK- he’d gladly be burned up by the sun coming from Steve Rogers.

Steve breaks away first but moves slowly, tracing his thumbs gently over Bucky’s temples as he does. Steve opens his eyes to see kaleidoscope grey staring back at him, Bucky gazing up at him in awe. Steve smirks and blushes at the same time and Bucky tries to lunge back in and lick that expression into his mouth.

Steve, however, is too fast for him. He shifts his weight back and sits on his chair, but his hands do not leave Bucky’s neck. Bucky’s hands move up and cover Steve’s and he squeezes, fighting the tide of emotions in his throat. Steve speaks first, soft and low,

“I said nowhere I’d rather be, Buck. I meant it. I’m here with you, as long as you’ll have me. Long as you let me in, let me help you tackle your nightmares together, I ain’t going anywhere.”

Bucky nods and kisses Steve’s palm, and it’s the little movement that lets Steve know he’s somehow done the right thing for the first time in days. Steve takes Bucky’s left hand and intertwines the metal fingers with his own, then picks up his fork.

“If it smells as good as it looks, I’m not giving any to Winter.”

Winter lifts her head from her throne of pillows, ears perked. Bucky and Steve both laugh at her outraged expression before digging in. Emotional roller-coasters tend to leave a guy famished.

-----------------

“No, seriously, guess where we found the light bulb!” Steve laughs, and Bucky takes another swig of his sparkling water and smirks cockily.

“I’m staying with my first guess- right up the ass, Stevie.”

“I can’t believe- how did you know?! It was completely intact, I don’t even understand how that happens!”

Bucky chuckles and waggles his eyebrows at Steve, who blushes and continues,

“Well I know HOW it happens- I just don’t understand why.”

“Maybe his colon had a bright idea,” Bucky quips. He and Steve make eye-contact before bursting out in hysterics, falling out of their chairs and onto the floor. Steve crawls over to where Bucky is sprawled on the hardwood floor and flops on top of him, both still chuckling so forcefully Steve actually bounces a little on Bucky’s legs. As they quiet down Steve props himself up on his elbow and absentmindedly strokes Bucky’s hipbone through his shirt, asking,

“What made you change your mind?””

Bucky looks away but his eyes still sparkle with a bit of mischief, and Steve feels incredibly privileged to be the person to put that look on his face. Bucky takes a deep breath and says,

“I saw your sketches- by accident! I was emptying your trashcan, but still. You pretty much put every fantasy I had- even ones I didn’t- on paper.”

Steve feels all the breath in his body whoosh out.

“You- you saw them? And you’re not…freaked out by some of the things I wanna do to you?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and gives Steve a half-defensive glare.

“No. It’d be pretty hypocritical for me to be freaked out about something I’ve been wantin’ you to do to me pretty much since I saw you.”

Steve groans and presses his forehead to one of Bucky’s strong, muscular thighs and exhales slowly. When he looks up his eyes are coals, burning into Bucky and making a fire under his skin.

“What’d you see that you liked so much, baby?”

Bucky shudders and his hips involuntarily flex upwards, only to have Steve’s big hands bite into his hips and slam him back onto the floor. Bucky whimpers and looks down as Steve crawls up Bucky’s form, slithering and touching him everywhere as he goes. When he stops Steve hovers over Bucky, hands like steel holding him in place. Bucky gulps and feels his hands reach up and cling to Steve’s broad shoulders- he doesn’t know if he’s trying to hold on or try to push Steve in.

Steve’s eyes are still burning above him. “Buck- what did you like?”

“Everything,” Bucky breathes out, and Steve smirks and rewards him with a roll of his hips. Bucky hisses at the sting of jean-clad cocks grinding together. It burns and Bucky never wants it to stop. But it does, and Bucky whines and looks up pleadingly at Steve, whose stern face glares down as he hisses out, “Keep going. What. Did. You. Like.”

Every word is punctuated by another sinful hip roll and Bucky cries out and starts babbling, hands scrambling on Steve’s back as he struggles to touch all the skin under Steve’s shirt that he can reach. Bunched, powerful muscle strain up against his fingers, flesh and metal, and Bucky feels like he’s holding on to a comet, babbling with no real thought as Steve leans down and starts sucking harsh, pain-pleasure marks onto his neck.

“AH- oh God, Stevie I loved it- wanna be that for you, wanna be your sweetheart, your darlin’. Wanna be strung up nice and needy for ya’ when you come home, wanna have you teach me to take your cock- baby I could take it so sweet for ya’, I know I could, just gotta give me a chance-“

Bucky cries out as Steve lifts them both up and SLAMS them back down on the floor, arching up as Steve growls and attacks his mouth. Steve bites down on Bucky’s lip until Bucky opens up, eyes rolling back in his head as Steve’s tongue thrusts into his mouth and strokes possessively, dominantly.

Bucky tries to give back, tries to kiss back in a way that lets Steve know he’s his, he wants to be pinned underneath Steve forever- but he can barely gasp for breath before Steve renews his assault of pleasure with vigor, hips pumping furiously as he licks into Bucky’s mouth. Steve’s hands reach up and grab Bucky’s wrists, slamming them into the floor and using his newfound leverage to thrust.

Bucky feels his entire body go taut and his back bow like in Steve’s picture and he’s close, he’s so close he can taste it and he’s going to cum again with the taste and name of Steve Rogers on his tongue-

Bucky sobs as one of Steve’s hands shoves between their writhing, shaking bodies to close down over his still-clothed cock and squeeze. Bucky howls at the loss of his orgasm and looks up at Steve, who is panting and looking both furious and frustrated above him. Bucky whines and thunks his head against the floor, whimpering,

“Whyyyyy, Stevie? What’d I do?”

Steve’s expression instantly slips soft, and he shushes Bucky with peppered kisses on his face.

“No, no sweetheart. You were perfect for me doll, I just- I can’t have our first scene with you without having a discussion first. I gotta do this right for you, Buck. Gotta get a kink list, we gotta do our safewords. I couldn’t- I couldn’t bear it if I messed this up.”

Steve kisses him sugar slow and Bucky melts, lets Steve run his fingers through his hair and shivers at the promise of more. Steve pulls back slightly and whispers into Bucky’s mouth,

“I’m gonna do right by you, Buck. I promise.”

Bucky gives Steve a watery smile and nods, even as his dick threatens to rebel.

“Yeah, yeah. Jerk. You know your accent comes out when you’re all hot and bothered, right?”

Steve laughs and nods, presses another kiss to a bruise on Bucky’s neck and Bucky shudders at the possessive display. ‘Soon,’ he promises himself, ‘soon I get to have everything’. Bucky’s waited almost a year for this. He can wait long enough for them to do this right.

Looking down at their still-hard cocks, Bucky thumps his head back against the floor and glares at Steve, hoping he looks more convincing than he feels.

“But like… couldn’t I have cum before you remembered that?”

Steve laughs and shrugs, but he goes back to kissing Bucky so reverently that Bucky forgets to be mad for awhile.

------------

Neither of them notice Winter licking the plates that have fallen off the table in their little tumble.

Chapter Text

Bucky thought that after such a monumental occasion in his life, things would somehow change. Surely there had to be some effects for the world spinning off of its axis- after all, Steve Rogers had miraculously agreed to date mere mortal Bucky Barnes. Bucky has taken to pinching himself every once in awhile, but reality persists. Steve is still here and is as devastatingly handsome as ever.

No, the world has only changed in small ways. Steve and Bucky now hold hands when they take Winter to the dog park. Bucky now sometimes makes it outside the apartment to pick Steve up from work, where Winter always yips and wags her tail at the sight of the blonde nurse (Bucky does the same thing mentally). Bucky now cooks food that is no longer hot enough to melt the roof of one’s mouth, but devilishly lush and creamy concoctions that put everyone who eats them in a comatose state of bliss.

No, nothing has really changed. Steve and Bucky are still Steve and Bucky, respectively. Just with a more touching and make-out sessions.

Perhaps it’s because they haven’t fucked yet.

Because Bucky doesn’t mind! Really, he doesn’t. It’s just… look, last week was the perfect example of how much he doesn’t mind (but also why this is the biggest conundrum he has ever faced).

Movie nights are the epitome of how the relationship has changed- starting small, but ending up like something straight out of Bucky’s fantasies. The first movie night (Star Wars- The Force Awakens screening) began with Steve adjusting them immediately so that Bucky was lying with his head in Steve’s lap. Sadly, his head was facing the TV, but hey- Bucky figured this had to start somewhere.

Then Steve’s fingers were running through Bucky’s hair and Bucky just fucking melted. Into the couch, into Steve’s lap, and away from all his cares. Away from his problems, away from his PTSD- just falling, falling, falling into Steve.

Bucky only became aware that he was groaning when Steve traced his lips with his other hand, fingers calloused from pencils yet tender in their touch. He moans anew and arches his head back, trying to better feel Steve’s hardness through his jeans. Steve just yanks deliciously on Bucky’s hair and Bucky arches up. Steve’s hand then moves to clasp the front of his neck, not squeezing but just reminding.

Bucky falls back against Steve, whimpering and squirming in Steve’s lap. Steve just lifts Bucky slightly and holds him tight against his chest, hand pulling at his hair and lips biting at Bucky’s ear.

“Be a good boy and watch.” Steve hisses- and Bucky ceases his thrashing and goes limp, eyes staring ahead but unseeing. Steve smirks and keeps petting Bucky’s hair.

Because Steve knows what Bucky wants. He knows that Bucky wants to plunge head first into this relationship, and Steve understands the feeling. Boy, does he understand. But the kink negotiations they had last week had been illuminating for Steve, and while Steve feels like he is ready to run down the rabbit hole with Bucky, he has his own doubts about Bucky’s readiness.

ONE WEEK AGO

Steve and Bucky are seated at the dinning room table where Bucky had laid his feelings on the plate just the previous night. Both men had slept in their separate rooms, at Steve’s insistence. Something about wooing Bucky properly and treating him right (Bucky had awwwwed at that and Steve had blushed).

So here they were. Both men had eaten breakfast together and seated themselves at opposite ends of the table. They hadn’t spoken that morning, but the silence was heavy and full rather than awkward. The atmosphere was charged with lazy, crackling sexual tension. Bucky hadn’t even been able to make them anything, just poured them each a bowl of cereal (Cinnamon Toast Crunch for Bucky, Corn Pops for Steve).

Finally, Steve had stood and cleared the table, then wrapped his hand around Bucky’s neck and squeezed.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back” Steve requested, but Bucky shuddered at the idea of the same sentence as an order. He closed his eyes and listened to Steve rummaging through his drawers, Steve’s heavy footsteps as he approached the kitchen again.

Bucky opened his eyes to see Steve gazing at Bucky intensely, sliding a stapled bunch of papers and pen across the table at Bucky.

“We’ll both fill it out separately, then go over it together. Alright?”

Bucky nods, then tilts his face up and towards Steve, leaning forward so much that he almost falls over in his chair. Steve catches him by cupping Bucky’s chin in his hand and lifting him up, placing a gentle kiss on Bucky’s lips.

After a few moments Steve sweetly parts them, though the warmth on their mouths still lingers as they take their respective seats. Steve picks up his pen and taps the paper, giving Bucky a meaningful look. Bucky picks up his pen and gets to work.

A full forty minutes later, Steve and Bucky have both put down their pens. Bucky is fidgeting with his restlessly, but Winter hasn’t come over from her spot in the sun so Steve knows it’s just nervous energy. He clears his throat to begin,

“I assume this isn’t the first time you’ve subbed, but how experienced are you in this?”

Bucky gives a sheepish nod and rakes his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick. Steve feels his own fingers twitch to do it himself.

“I, um- haven’t been in a real dom/sub relationship. Just a few one-night or multiple-night stands before my last tour, nothing afterwards. It’s hard to- to trust someone like that. I was dumb before, shouldn’t have trusted as much as I did but- I guess I had issues before I went in. Never really trusted anyone to do a whole lot. Look, the point is that there’s a lot I’ve wanted to try but have always been too chickenshit to, one way or another.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and looks back up at Steve, softly glowing in the early morning light streaming in through the curtains. He looks quietly thoughtful as he slowly nods, taking in Bucky’s past.

“But you do want to try with me?” Steve asks, looking for reassurance that Bucky is all too happy to provide.

“Yes. Absolutely, I- I trust you.” Bucky ducks his head at the admission, and misses Steve’s grin at his words. Steve notes Bucky’s apparent discomfort though and takes over.

“I learned about all of this from a fellow soldier. British intelligence, actually. My first tour out, she and I just clicked. We dated for almost two years, but in the end it just didn’t work out. She was a domme, and I discovered through her I was as well. We parted on good terms- even did a few scenes together over the years I tried to find a someone who would be a long-term sub, but no one’s ever really clicked. I never wanted anyone as a friend, a lover AND a sub before….until I met you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen in shock, and Steve holds up his hand to continue.

“That being said, I don’t want you to feel any pressure about this. We’re doing this completely on your terms and at your speed. You’ve got the power here, Buck.”

Bucky gives Steve a soft smile and nods, and Steve feels a head rush at having done something right. He clears his throat and gestures to the papers before them,

“Shall we?”

PRESENT DAY- ON THE COUCH

They had proceeded through the list and (un)shockingly found that they were compatible in every way that mattered. They had agreed on a few scenes they would like to try, sketched out some basic boundaries. Steve had opted for “Peggy” as his safe-word, and Bucky had chosen “Red Skull”. Steve hadn’t pressed as to why.

As Bucky settles back into his lap, eyes glassed over in pleasure, Steve resumes the hard stroking of his hair and fights the visceral wave of pride and possession he has over this gorgeous, breathtaking man in his lap. Because as much as he wants to take the plunge with Bucky, as much as he knows (and relishes) Bucky’s desire for them to fuck and press their sweaty bodies together until they know nothing else- Steve remembers.

Steve remembers Bucky’s hesitation before he had confessed, “I trust you”. While Steve is guessing that was mostly just nerves and the weight of the statement, Steve is taking no chances.

By the time he’s done wringing Bucky full of sexual frustration, he’ll have no doubt that his trust is well-placed. He’ll beg for Steve to take him. To collar him.

And Steve will- right before he fucks Bucky for the first time.

Steve smirks and gives Bucky’s hair a particularly vicious yank, holding it before releasing and going back to stroking an increasingly relaxed yet desperate Bucky. Oh yes, Steve has plans.

--------------------

Their first scene happens completely to Bucky’s surprise. Steve gets home from work to Bucky cooking some half-baked cookies for their movie night. Steve moans as he walks in the door and immediately takes his place behind Bucky’s aproned form, hugging Bucky tight in one hand while sneaking a piping-hot cookie in the other. Bucky leans into it and relishes the affection, pressing a sloppy kiss to his roommate’s neck.

Steve nuzzles back as Bucky’s tongue presses against the cords of his neck, undoubtedly feeling him chew. Steve kisses back after he swallows, then brings his hand up to Bucky’s hair and yanks (something that never fails to get Bucky cross-eyed in pleasure) and says,

“Color and safe word, gorgeous?”

Bucky’s eyes fly open and he focuses on Steve’s face, expression awed and almost disbelieving. He stutters out as he grasps Steve’s biceps, “Green and Red Skull, sir.”

Steve smirks at the military training shining through Bucky’s demand, even as his cock gives a little twitch. Holding Bucky in place by his hair, he guides him to the couch. Steve doesn’t have him sit on it, but instead has him face the large, pale green comfy lounge chair. Then Steve reaches behind Bucky and slowly undoes the tie to his apron, pulling it gently over Bucky’s head. He folds it in his hands and says,

“I’m going to get my sketchbook. When I come back, I want you naked and your clothes folded neatly by the right corner of the couch.”

“Yes, sir.” Is out of Bucky’s mouth before he can even comprehend it, sounding more breathless than Bucky would like. Steve smiles and nods, then turns and walks out of the room.

Bucky doesn’t even watch him go. Instead he calmly begins to shed his layers, already feeling a sense of calm come over him. He folds his clothes carefully and places them by the corner of the couch, grateful that Steve was specific in his instructions. He’s not trying to trip Bucky up- not yet anyway. Bucky has a feeling that while Steve won’t be cruel, he also won’t be making this easy.

Bucky is just straightening back up when Steve re-enters the room. He lets out a low whistle that has Bucky shivering and straightening, staring ahead and refusing to make eye-contact. The tiny rebellion does not go unnoticed.

Steve’s fingers grasp Bucky’s chin and holy cow, Bucky forgets Steve can move that fast. Blue eyes bore into his own, and Steve holds Bucky’s gaze until Bucky looks away and bares his neck. Steve hums appreciatively and lets go, circling Bucky slowly. Bucky preens under Steve’s predatory gaze, and Steve is pleased to have Bucky’s praise kink confirmed.

“Jesus Buck, you’re like a Greek statue. How do you stand it, walkin’ around lookin’ so good and not touchin’ yourself?”

Bucky moans at Steve’s Brooklyn twang and feels his cock go from half-mast to full erection.

He longs to touch. He knows better.

Steve smirks again and lunges suddenly, latching on to Bucky’s collarbone and sucking a huge mark into his shoulder. Bucky arches and cries out, hands grasping at Steve’s clothed muscular back.

Steve grins into his collarbone and bites down viciously, moving away as quickly as he came. Bucky whines but Steve shakes his head and tsks, “Bucky, now I just gave ya a compliment didn’t I? Why’d you wanna go and touch me when you got all this right here?”

At that he takes Bucky’s hands and places Bucky’s flesh hand on Bucky’s cock and his metal hand… Bucky’s eyes widen as his metal fingers are placed to prod at his hole, and he makes a confused sound that Steve shushes away.

“It’s just gonna touch, Buck. It’s just gonna remind you of what you want, how much your gorgeous little hole wants to be filled. How could it not, lookin’ all cute and puckered like that? Christ, I’m shocked you don’t always have a little something pressed inside you.”

Bucky moans again and nods, ludicrously open to the suggestion of Steve stuffing something inside him every day, about having a constant reminder of Steve’s care and attentions. Steve pecks him on the cheek for his enthusiasm and guides Bucky to lie down with his back propped up against the couch arm.

Bucky’s metal hand is cool but warming as it sits under him, his fingers touching but not prodding his hole. Suddenly being forbidden to play with it, even though the idea is a poor one without lube, is a task more easily said than done. His flesh hand squeezes his cock but Bucky doesn’t dare move otherwise. He stares at Steve and waits for his next instruction.

Steve plays with Bucky’s limbs for a bit, tilting his chest and twisting his head. When Steve seems satisfied with how Bucky is posed, he sits on the large comfy chair to the left of the couch and picks up his sketchbook. His pencil begins scratching and he says to Bucky casually,

“Since you folded your clothes like I told you to, you get to stroke yourself. But only when I tell you, and only how many times I tell you. Can’t have that beautiful cock goin’ soft, now can I baby? That’d be a real crime.”

Bucky whines and closes his eyes, squeezing his cock again painfully as it throbs in protest. Or in applause. He’s not really sure.

“If you’re good for me, Buck, I’ll let you cum at the end. But it’s gonna take me awhile to get all your beauty on the page, darlin’. Oh, and 5 strokes to start.”

Bucky eagerly strokes himself, reveling in the slide of skin on skin. But he goes too fast, and before he’s even begun his 5 are up and he’s stuck, staring hopelessly and a little betrayed at Steve. Steve’s blue eyes sparkle and he chuckles, beginning to sketch.

Bucky feels his chest heave and he mentally settles in. This is going to be long and tortured process, and he’s going to love/hate every minute of it.

-------------------

Bucky feels like he’s dying. He’s being slowly brought to the brink and then back to life by Steve, who tells him in no discernable pattern “4 strokes” or “7 strokes, nice and slow Buck.”

Bucky is seriously considering flipping Steve off in a few minutes. It couldn’t be any worse.

He’s sweating. A nice, glistening sheen coats his body, and his hair is flipped back and shining from it. He’s pretty sure he’s nowhere near the pose Steve told him to hold originally, because he started writhing awhile ago. He couldn’t help it.

His metal finger has gotten warm and his hole has gotten lax under Steve’s intense gaze, desperately trying to suck Bucky’s metal joint in, desperately trying to be full. It doesn’t help that Steve keeps praising it, seems delighted by how hungry Bucky’s hole is.

“Gonna just welcome my cock, won’t it Buck? Gonna keep it warm and thank it for filling you up?”

And Bucky had moaned and sobbed and squeezed, desperately trying not to stroke as Steve’s pencil continued to make lines on the paper.

Bucky’s cock is an angry red now, almost purple at the tip. It’s drooling (Bucky’s always had a lot of pre-cum) and Bucky’s flesh arm is shaking with effort as he holds his hand still, legs shivering and stretching in agony. For the past 5 minutes he’s been staring at Steve’s clothed cock, barely contained under Steve’s soft grey sweatpants.

His mouth is salivating at the thought of just holding it in his mouth.

Steve seems to know and promises Bucky for what has to be the 5^th time,

“I’ll give it to ya, Buck. But you’ve gotta be good first, gotta look at the hard work I put in. You can do that, can’t ya baby?”

Bucky nearly chokes on his sob, closing his eyes and nodding and babbling, “Yes, yes sir I wanna be good for ya’, please Stevie-“

“Alright darlin’, alright. Open your eyes now, take a look.”

Bucky does and-

He can’t breathe.

The creature that Steve has made in his drawing is a thing of sensual beauty and desperation. Black and white with bold, thick lines Bucky isn’t even sure how Steve got with his pencil, Bucky recognizes that the person in the picture is him. But it can’t be, Bucky can’t believe that Steve sees him like that.

Because the twisting, writhing form on the paper has clearly been put down with revenance. Like the artist could barely stand to tear his eyes away from Bucky, and thus captured Bucky in all his twisting, naked, helpless glory. Through this picture, Bucky can see not only how much Steve feels for him, but he can practically tastes how Steve savors his submission.

Bucky’s hand isn’t moving on his cock, but he can’t help it. His eyes roll back in his head and he cums, shocked and choking out “St-Steve!”

The orgasm races through him, ripping through his flesh and leaving a wake of fire in its path. Bucky feels devastated, whimpering and shuddering and clutching at nothing.

Then there’s Steve. Right there, gathering up Bucky into his arms and cradling him to his chest, lips upon Bucky’s as he scoops Bucky up and holds him. Bucky moans again and kisses back feebly, cock pulsing again at the whisper of Steve’s skin against his own after such a long denial.

Steve says nothing but Bucky’s name, chanting it softly as he peppers Bucky’s face with kisses and Bucky sighs. Completely drained, he snuggles into Steve’s chest as Steve whisks him up and out of the living room, carrying him bridal style to Steve’s room. Steve lays Bucky gently on his bed and pulls back the covers, sliding in under them after Bucky’s naked and pliant form.

Steve’s never had a sub react to that. Even though he should be thinking about disciplining Bucky, all he can do is praise his sub for cumming so hard and so well at the sight of his picture.

Because it was, in Steve’s own way, a declaration of his love for Bucky. And to have Bucky react that strongly to such a statement? Well, Steve’s hypothesis has been proven. As Steve settles in to nap with Bucky and snuggles up to Bucky’s back, he knows for certain his plan of driving Bucky mad with affection, praise, and quasi-sexual frustration is the right one.

Steve kisses Bucky behind his ear and lets a lazy sleep overtake him. He has to say, that’s been the best reaction anyone’s ever had to his artwork.

Chapter Text

Bucky had woken up the next morning smiling. It took him a moment to realize it was morning, as he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept more than a few hours straight. He stretched and felt the contentment that had seeped into his muscles, and grinned when his naked leg shifted against Steve’s.

Turning over, Bucky is greeted with the dopey, smiling face of Steven Grant Rogers. Steve’s on his side and propped up on his elbow, shirtless and sleepy-eyed. Steve instantly begins carding his fingers through Bucky’s tangled hair, gentle as he can.

“Gotta say, Buck, that was the best critique I’ve ever had of my drawings.”

Bucky groans and snuggles closer, burying his head in Steve’s arm. Dammit, even Steve’s skin is perfect- smooth as a peach. Hmmmm, maybe he should start making peach tarts with prosciutto. Sweet and savory, with some nice meat in there- just like his best guy….

“Ain’t my fault my best guy’s gotta go and see me like that.”

Steve chuckles and presses his lips to Bucky’s exposed shoulder, making Bucky shiver. Steve smiles and fastens his teeth to Bucky’s skin and Bucky’s breath hitches-

He hadn’t even realized Steve was nibbling on his half metal shoulder- the one with the scaring and mottled flesh. Bucky hadn’t even thought of his arm since Steve started drawing him the other day, since Steve had him sink down to his knees, since Steve made him strip.

Suddenly Steve has an armful of Bucky, pressed right up against him and clinging to him feverishly. Steve responds instantly, wrapping his muscular arms around Bucky and holding him tight.

Bucky is shaking- not quite crying, but definitely shaking. Steve’s stomach sinks and he cradles the back of Bucky’s head in his large palm, pleading with him,

“Bucky, Buck what’s wrong? What happened, what’s going on? What’d I do wrong?”

Bucky shakes his head and presses a thin-mouthed kiss fiercely to Steve’s cheek. His stubble rasps against Steve’s skin, and his voice is rough as he promises,

“Nothing at all, baby doll. You just- made me forget for awhile, that’s all.”

“Forget what, Buck?”

In response Bucky shrugs his half-metal shoulder, and Steve makes a considering noise in his throat.

“Buck are you… are you ashamed of your arm?”

Bucky shakes his head quickly, but not so quickly that Steve thinks he’s lying. When he speaks again he’s stopped shaking, but he’s still pressed every part of his body against Steve’s as tightly as he can.

“Plenty of things I’m ashamed of. Ashamed I can’t leave this house without planning it at least a day beforehand, or without Winter. Ashamed my head keeps me scared most of the time, ashamed it’s taking me so long to get right. Not ashamed of the arm, though. I got it doing a good thing in a bad place, never gonna be ashamed of that.”

Steve kisses Bucky’s temple sweetly.

“If it helps, I’m not ashamed of any of those things about you. Couldn’t be prouder to call you my boyfriend.”

Bucky blushes at the term and looks up at Steve, smiling slyly.

“Boyfriend, huh?”

Steve just gives him a cocky grin back.

“It’s a little more updated than ‘best guy’. And yeah, boyfriend. Gotta say though, I have a real love-hate thing going on with your reclusiveness.”

Bucky nuzzles his stubble against Steve’s nipple just so Steve hisses and pulls his hair, reveling in the sting. He gives Steve his best innocent stare and asks as his neck is strained,

“What’s that?”

“Well, on the one hand, I’ve got this perfect peach of an ass all to myself. But on the other hand, I miss out on showing off to everyone what they can’t have. I miss out on seeing their jealous faces.”

Bucky blushes and tries to hide his face back in Steve’s chest, but the hand in his hair keeps him there. Steve leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Bucky’s brow, saying,

“I’ll take ya anyway I can get ya, Buck. As long as you’ll have me, I’ll take anything you want to give me and thank you for it.”

Bucky lunges forward and presses his bad breath, dried lips to Steve’s, who kisses back like he doesn’t notice a thing. Trust Steve to be polite. When Bucky parts them Steve is panting and Bucky can feel his hard cock against his thigh. Bucky whispers back to Steve,

“I feel exactly the same way, Stevie. I want everything you wanna give me, and I wanna beg you for it.”

Steve’s eyes darken and he whispers back, “You will. I fucking promise you that, Barnes. You will.”

Then Steve surprises Bucky by rolling them over and getting off the bed, walking towards the door in nothing but his soft cotton sweatpants. He looks over his shoulder with a come-hither look, and Bucky feels himself go a little stupid at it.

“Now, Buck, I do believe you owe me breakfast for cumming without permission last night. We’re going to go over a few more new rules.”

---------------------------

Bucky makes them paprika over-easy eggs and cinnamon-encrusted bacon. He also starts a batch of biscuits, which he is kneading when he says over his shoulder to Steve,

“So, what’s the new rules we’re dealing with?”

Steve startles from where he had been checking his email on his laptop. He shakes his head and pulls out their respective kink lists from where he had stashed them under the laptop and puts on his thick, horn-rimmed glasses. Steve only arches his eyebrow when Bucky wolf-whistles him (Winter perks herself up, then huffs when she realizes Bucky isn’t talking to her).

“Yeah, yeah. Are you still good on overstimulation and cock warming?”

Bucky’s metal arm makes a series of whirring noises as Bucky attempts to calm himself.   He continues to knead calmly while he clears his throat roughly,

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“Good. Look, Buck, we also have to talk about my cock.”

Bucky has to stop kneading. He calmly wipes his hands on the lemon printed dish towel and turns around from the counter to face Steve at the table, shit-eating grin barely concealed as he sips his coffee. Bucky pointedly looks down at himself, cock half-hard in his black sweatpants. He leans against the counter and crosses his arms, attempting to look like the picture of nonchalance.

Winter snorts from her spot in the sun.

“I’m listening,” Bucky says calmly. His metal arm jerks randomly and he whacks it with his flesh fist. Steve smirks again but quickly turns serious.

“It’s big.”

Bucky has to close his eyes and take a breath to steel himself. Steve, looking somewhat like a professor in his stupid glasses and talking calmly about his monster cock is hitting him on levels he didn’t even understand he had. Eyes still closed he manages to get out,

“Still got my full attention over here, Stevie. And also I noticed- felt it rubbing up against me on a few occasions.”

“Never for more than a few seconds. Look, it’s big.”

“Steve, I’ve got some pretty impressive dildos.”

“Which you fuck yourself on. You’ve never been fucked hard by a cock my size, never been thrust into like I can’t get deep enough.”

“Jesus wept, Steve. C’mon- it’s like 9 in the morning.”

Steve just takes another sip of his coffee and looks pointedly at Bucky.

“You need to work yourself up to it. We’re gonna start you on a training method, little goals for you each day. I’ll even write out a schedule and everything.”

Bucky smiles. He likes little goals, they make him feel accomplished and like he isn’t some cowering ex-soldier who can make a mean cheesey biscuit. Bucky nods and says,

“I like the sound of that. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow.”

That surprises Bucky. He and Steve had the day off today, he thought maybe…

“I’ve got plans for today.”

Bucky shivers at Steve’s words and Steve stands up, stalking over to Bucky and getting right up in his personal bubble. Bucky’s breath starts coming out heavier as Steve leans and sucks Bucky’s earlobe in his mouth. Bucky bites his lip but the suction and added teeth have him giving in, letting out a desperate little whine.

Steve’s smile is victorious as he pulls away, and he shows Bucky the true meaning of nonchalance as his big, open palm goes down to cup Bucky’s cock through his sweatpants. Bucky nearly buckles to the floor.

“I hope you’ve got a lot left in you after you finish those biscuits, Buck. Cause I’m gonna get you off so many times you’re gonna cry- then you won’t be cumming again till it’s on my cock.”

Then Steve leaves Bucky desperately clinging to the counter as he goes back to the kitchen table, sitting down and readjusting his glasses.

Bucky turns around and shakily starts kneading the fuck out of his dough.

----------------------

After some of the most furious kneading of his life, Bucky’s biscuit dough is cooling in the fridge. He figures whatever Steve has in mind will be roughly an hour at first, which is perfect for the dough to cool- then he can pop them in the oven for 15 minute. He puts the bowl in the fridge and heads down the hall to Steve’s room, where Steve had gone to “get ready”.

Bucky thinks that it’s perfectly understandable then that he runs down the short distance of hallway and skids to a halt at Steve’s door, breathlessly exclaiming “Hey Stevie, wanna butter my biscuit?”

Steve leans back and laughs, looking comfortable as hell on the bed in nothing but his glasses and bright blue boxer briefs. He sets his book and glasses on his nightstand, where Bucky notices there is also a full bottle of lube.

Bucky’s eyes widen at the sight, and his gaze flickers from the bottle to Steve’s lap to the bottle again. He gives Steve a wide-eyed, pleading look and Steve benevolently makes a “come here” motion.

Bucky crosses the room and crawls up the bed, immediately going between Steve’s legs and attempting to nuzzle Steve’s cock. He almost makes it before that steady-and-sure hand is fisting his hair, lifting him up and redirecting him to Steve’s lips. Steve tastes like coffee and contentment as he slowly plunders Bucky’s mouth. Their tongues swirl together in a twisting, sticky pattern that has Bucky pressing against Steve in no time, straddling his lap but mindful not to grind down.

He sincerely hopes his good behavior is rewarded.

Steve grins into their kiss and squeezes Bucky’s ass firmly, then pats him on the bum and scoots himself further up the bed until he is resting fully on the headboard.

“Turn around, baby. Put that fine peach up here for me to see.”

Bucky grins and with one last peck, turns around and places himself between Steve’s spread legs. He puts his ass in the air and wiggles it, only to get a chuckle from Steve and two big paws grasping his hips tightly. They pull him even further up the bed, until Bucky is almost bent in half- his mouth is between Steve’s strong thighs, and his ass-

Oh god, his ass is right against Steve’s mouth.

Bucky feels himself go limp everywhere but his cock, which has begun to fill his sweatpants achingly. Bucky whines as Steve palms his ass yet again, and chokes on air as Steve yanks his sweatpants down suddenly. They are left confining on his thighs, and Steve breathes out a sigh Bucky feels on his trembling cheeks.

“Goddamn, Buck. You shave back here?”

Bucky blushes and nods, keeping his lips pressed to Steve’s muscular thigh as he rasps back,

“Been keeping myself real clean back there ever since- ever since you moved in.”

Steve breathes out again, harsher this time and presses a reverent kiss to Bucky’s left ass cheek, then his right.

“Hoping to get lucky, huh Buck?”

“Been hoping to get in your pants since the first moment I saw ya Stevie- wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass me by.”

“Such a good boy for me, ain’t ya Buck?” Steve murmurs, and Bucky shivers as Steve’s thumbs spread his cheeks.

“Mine since the moment I saw ya, just waiting to get me inside, huh.” Bucky nods and presses a kiss to Steve’s thigh, which makes Steve dig his fingers in even harder.

“How long we got before you gotta bake, Buck?”

“I- I never gotta bake again, Stevie, I s-swear.”

“Sure you do, Buck. Gotta butter those biscuits, don’t ya? When’d you set the timers for?”

“An hour.”

“And after you put ‘em in, how many batches did you make?”

“J-Just two.”

“Hmmmmm, just two. Alright then, here’s what’s gonna happen. For the next hour I’m gonna rim ya until you’re a crying, sobbing mess, drooling all over my sheets. Cum as many times as you want, cause after that we’re gonna go to the kitchen for you to put the biscuits in. Wanna know what we’re gonna do in there, Buck?”

Bucky nods his head, hips jerking minutely and Steve tightens his hold.

“We’re gonna be see how good you can be for me- you’re gonna get me off with that sinful mouth of yours. Gonna take this big dick of mine, see how much you can take down your throat. And after that?”

Steve leans in real close for this, whispering against Bucky’s hole,

“Training begins.”

Bucky lets out a little scream against Steve’s leg at the first stab of Steve’s tongue.

-----------------------

Bucky is sobbing, there’s no other word for it. He’s a shaking, puddly mess in between Steve’s legs, and Steve-

Bucky thinks Steve has gone feral back there.

He wrung the first two orgasms out of Bucky so quick Bucky’s head is still spinning. His dick legitimately hurts where it bobs between his legs, hard and aching and dripping. Every once in awhile, if he can remember to dip his hips right, his cock brushes the tip of Steve’s, and Bucky’s eyes roll back into his head.

Because Steve’s briefs are soaked with Bucky’s cum, as if he’s marked, and Bucky can smell it and oh God-

Steve does that swirl thing with his tongue again. He’s fallen into a pattern of licking around the sensitive rim of Bucky’s hole, then stabbing in with his tongue and furling out. Like he can’t get deep enough, like he can’t go far enough into Bucky.

Steve’s clean-shaven today, but Bucky’s hold still feels sloppy and open and wet. His balls also feel so freaking sensitive, since Steve’s been fondling them every once in awhile when he isn’t using his two fingers to massage Bucky’s prostate from the outside.

He does it again, and Bucky cries out.

“Please- oh God, please Stevie give it to me, please give it to me-“

Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s begging for at this point, but he’s dying over here. His skin feels too tight, and he’s sweating profusely. His hair is soaked and a mess, his lips are kiss-bitten and swollen.

He feels like he’s flying.

Then there’s something new tracing his hole- something firmer and calloused that Bucky’s brain eventually recognizes as Steve’s fingers. Except these ones are wet. Steve’s clearly reached over and gotten the lube.

Bucky almost hits Steve in the face with his ass he’s so eager. Steve laughs out loud and oh God, his voice is deep and rough and shot to shit.

Bucky feels his hole clench in anticipation.

“No no, you were so open for me baby. So nice and pliant, gonna get you even looser. Gonna get you feeling empty for me.”

And then one of Steve’s fingers is circling Bucky’s hole, pressing in and teasing. Bucky whimpers and pushes back, but it’s no use. He’s gone fuck stupid and weak, and Steve expends hardly any effort in holding him back.

“Shh shhh, sweetheart. It’ll all be over soon, you’ll finally feel me in you. But first you gotta ask me real nice and sweet like, OK?”

Bucky nods and opens his mouth, but the words don’t come out. Only high pitched whimpers and half-words, but never more. Steve is patient but relentless, circling Bucky and waiting. He even gets more lube and idly drips some on Bucky’s hole, and at the cold sensation Bucky snaps-

“Please- Stevie please, God put it in me, please-“

Steve does, thrusts his index finger in and Bucky cums so hard he blacks out.

---------------------------

Everything afterwards is a bit fuzzy, but Bucky finally manages to come back to himself fully in the kitchen, where Steve is guiding him with gentle hands towards the baking tray on the counter. He has a bowl of dough in his hands, ad he blinks up at Steve slowly.

“Back fully with me, baby boy?”

Bucky nods. Steve actually looks a little sheepish, which Bucky’s post-orgasm mind struggles to comprehend.

“Wouldn’t have moved you so fast, but like 3 timers in here went off. I figured you’d want to finish your biscuits at least.”

Bucky nods. Another quirk of his PTSD- timing is a thing with him, and he has at least 2 timers going at all times. But still, wasn’t he promised-

“Blow jobs?” Bucky manages to get out, and Steve huffs in surprise.

“You sure, Buck? You seemed pretty out of it-“

“Blow jobs.”

“Alright then. Uhhhhh need my help with this?”

Bucky shakes his head- no offense to Steve, but pretty much the only thing he’s good for in the kitchen is complimenting Bucky. And now, getting Bucky on his knees.

Bucky quickly rolls out some biscuits (thank you metal arm, which is able to weigh each biscuit perfectly) and throws them in the oven. Before the door has fully closed, Steve’s got one of those perfect, big hands on the back of Bucky’s neck, leading him to the kitchen table. Steve kicks out the chair and sits down heavily on it, spreading his legs and saying,

“Get down here baby, get on your knees for me like a good boy.”

Bucky sinks down, finally allowed to nuzzle Steve’s hardening cock and HOLY SHIT- how has he not noticed that bulge before??

Bucky looks up at Steve startled, and Steve just smiles back cockily. Bucky moans.

“Yeah, sweetheart- that’s all for you. Why don’t you take me out, baby boy? Why don’t you take me out and get a taste?”

Bucky doesn’t need to be told twice. He lunges, accidentally ripping Steve’s underwear (still soaked in Bucky’s cum) clean off his body with his metal hand. Once that is done though, he sits back on his heels and stares in almost disbelief.

It’s big. Not quite porn big, but still fucking intimidating. It’s not even the length although- fuck, it’s at least 8 inches. It’s the sheer girth of it- it’s a thick fucking cock, not too veiny and with a nice, circumsized crown that’s the same color pink as Steve’s cheeks when he blushes.

Bucky can already tell by looking that it’s gonna fill him up better than anyone ever has. He looks up at Steve, and before Steve can tell him to do anything-

Bucky leans down and takes as much as he can in his mouth. Oh sweet mother- he can still taste his cum on Steve’s cock, which has clearly soaked into Steve’s skin. Bucky moans at the musty, manly and salty taste that is SteveandBucky combined. He’ll never get enough- he licks up Steve’s cock like a lollipop, and then goes back in for as much as he can.

Which is about 2/3 and he’s damn proud, especially at the gutteral groan Steve gives and the two hands that come down to fist and yank at his hair.

Bucky’s eyes flutter shut. God, this is heaven. He brings his hands up to massage the rest of the shaft that his mouth is struggling to reach, and Steve pulls him by the hair, ordering,

“Use the metal one.”

Bucky moans on Steve’s cock and obeys, and they both groan when Bucky carefully closes his fist around Steve’s throbbing shaft. Steve hisses and moans again,

“God dammit, gorgeous. Knew those gorgeous cock-sucking lips were gonna be so good at this, never knew how good though. Jesus, enough to make a grown man cry.”

Bucky smirks and looks up at Steve playfully, slobbering around Steve’s cock and giving it an extra hard suck before pulling back and asking,

“You gonna cum on my face or have me swallow, sir?”

Steve pulls Bucky by the hair again, arching his neck so that Bucky hisses and his eyes water. It’s perfect.

“You cheeky little- you’re gonna swallow me the first time, and I’m gonna cum all over that gorgeous face the second. You understand, baby boy?”

“Yessir, I’ll swallow it all- every single drop, I promise-“

“I fucking know you will, baby. Now get back down there and get back to blowing my mind, gorgeous.” Bucky tries to nod but can’t, as Steve is pressing him down and back into his lap, where Bucky happily takes Steve’s enormous cock back into his mouth. It stretches his lips and he feels his jaw becoming sore, but he can’t stop going back down for more. His throat is gonna be as sore but he can’t care less, he moans at the thought of feeling it tomorrow as he’s cooking.

He keeps on sucking, getting Steve’s cock wet and dripping, licking up the salty precum as Steve controls his movements by the hands in his hair. Suddenly, Steve’s hips start to move up in time with Steve pressing Bucky down. Bucky braces himself on the chair and opens his throat as much as he can, hardly able to wait to taste Steve.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Steve presses and holds his head into his lap, making Bucky’s eyes tear up as he spills down Bucky’s throat. Bucky almost cries as he taste’s Steve’s bitter, salty cum pour into his mouth and some down his throat. He almost gags but manages to stay still, looking up at Steve with what could only be called grateful eyes.

Steve looks back down at him, mouth open in ecstasy and eyes wide in adoration as he cums and cums down Bucky’s throat, feeling almost raw from the intensity and heat of it. It rushes through his body like gunpowder, devastating him with intensity.

It passes through Steve and leaves him slumped in his chair, warm as molasses in his satisfaction. He strokes Bucky’s hair and cheeks, slowly pulling his cock out of Bucky’s mouth, who lets it go with a last sucking ‘pop’. Bucky smiles back up at him and arches his neck again, displaying his throat as he audibly swallows. Steve grins and cups his cheek, leaning down to press his lips to Bucky’s and whispers,

“So good for me, my best boy.”

Bucky whines- he looks like a defiled angel, and Steve can only think that he is nowhere near done with him.

---------------------------

The biscuits are the best that Bucky’s ever made, if a little singed around the edges.

Chapter Text

It’s week 2 of training and Bucky thinks he’s going to spontaneously combust.

Every morning at 7AM, Steve wakes Bucky up with sweet kisses on his shoulders. Bucky immediately tries to elbow Steve in the ribs because it’s 7AM Steve there is no need to be up at this witching hour. But Bucky gets up anyway, grumbling as they put on their workout clothes and go for a morning run.

Yes, Steve is making Bucky work out outside of his apartment these days. The first time Bucky thought for sure he was going to pass out before they got more than 5 blocks away. So he was incredibly shocked when he actually found the morning soothing- the chill of the air in his lungs, the sounds of the city waking up. Steve and Bucky weave a path through the city like specters, visiting but safely back in their apartment by 8:15AM on the dot.

Then comes the shower. Bucky goes first, taking care to douche every morning (it ain’t glamorous, but it gets Steve’s tongue in his ass so it will be done). Steve affords him the few minutes of privacy it takes to accomplish this task, then comes into the bathroom and shaves while Bucky finishes his shower.

Every time Bucky steps out of the shower, steam rising and water dripping down his chest, Steve’s heart catches in his throat. Bucky will give a smirk that’s almost cocky (getting closer every day) and Steve will roll his eyes, motioning for Bucky to come over to the sink. Steve will then methodically lather Bucky’s face with shaving cream. He takes the time every once and awhile to nibble on Bucky’s ear.

Some days Steve boops Bucky on the nose with the cream. Some days they have a full out war that leaves the bathroom covered in the foam and the mirror cracked in one corner.

Every day Bucky leaves the bathroom grinning like a loon, gets on the bed and positions himself on his front, face down ass up (GOD how that’s the way he’d like to fuck Steve). He’s to stay in that position, trembling in anticipation, as Steve finishes his shower. Most days Steve takes pity on him. Every once in awhile he’ll keep Bucky waiting until he’s a shivering, mewling mess.

But Steve always comes back to Bucky. Always runs a warm and slightly-damp hand down his flank. Then Steve will go and grab the same or next in their series of custom butt plugs.

Bucky’s currently up to the fourth out of six. He’s afraid of what he’ll do to get Steve Roger’s to roger him before they get to #6.

Number four is nothing to sneeze at- in fact, it’s the first plug Steve hasn’t let Bucky sleep with overnight. Steve had asked him how he felt this morning, and Bucky could only huskily reply,

“Empty.”

Steve’s eyes had dilated and he’d kept slapping Bucky’s ass on their run to ‘pick up the pace.’

So yeah, today feels like a day where Bucky is even more likely to spontaneously combust than usual. Because plug #4 is currently worked back into him, and Bucky can actually feel the difference from training for the first time.

Before, his sphincter muscles were tight every time. Steve had to patiently work him open and loose to get the plug in, then soothe him afterwards as his body accommodated the intrusion. For the first two days he wore a plug, Steve stayed home with Bucky to ensure Bucky was comfortable. Bucky’ll never admit it, but just having Steve there did help with the intense moments (Steve knows anyway). Now, though-

Now Bucky feels the initial tightness of his muscles, but the plug touches his hole and something in Bucky just…. Unfurls. He feels his whole lower body loosen, feels himself start to hum in anticipation and feels Steve give a little gasp when his hole just opens up for the plug. His initial tightness gives way to sucking, almost desperate attempts by his hole to swallow the plug up.

Bucky wants to feel full again. In a way only Steve can get him, in a way that’s only possible when Steve’s around.

“Jesus, baby doll you look like- you’re a goddamn picture.” Steve breathes. He can’t believe what he’s seeing. He’s NEVER seen someone take a plug like that, didn’t even really think it was possible.

Sure, when he mentioned training, he was only about half serious about the size of his cock. He knows with some serious prep Bucky could have taken it the first night. But he wanted to give Bucky time to truly settle in the relationship. He wanted their first time to be doubtless for Bucky. He wanted it to be all Bucky could think about, because it was all Steve could think about.

“Christ, you really want it don’t ya?” Steve husks, twirling the plug slowly. It’s in Bucky’s hole at it’s widest part, and all Bucky can seem to do is look back at Steve with a dazed expression on his face, droll coming out of the corner of his mouth. Like even Bucky can’t believe what he’s doing, how he’s being a little…

“Such a pretty little cock-slut for me, ain’t ya baby?” Steve whispers, and Bucky moans long and low. He blinks back at Steve, brows furrowed almost in confusion and something about his face makes Steve’s filter go right out the window.

“Damn, got a greedy little hole on ya don’t you gorgeous? Needy bottom, can hardly wait, gotta have something to fill ya up all day. This little plug ain’t gonna cut it, will it? You’re not gonna be satisfied till you seat yourself on my nice, big cock.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he looks like he’s going to say something, but then Bucky’s choking on air and his eyes roll back in his head. Steve hears him cum, hard and untouched, on their bedspread and he can’t wait. He thrusts the plug into Bucky and flips him over. Bucky’s still in the middle of his orgasm, shocked face staring up at Steve with wonder.

“Gonna take everything I give you, huh Buck? Cause that’s what you want- whatever I’ll fill you with.”

Bucky gives an almost imperceptible nod that Steve notes but doesn’t stop to acknowledge. He’s too busy crawling up Bucky’s sprawled form, and Bucky just opens up his mouth as Steve hastily shoves his cock in. Bucky groans around Steve’s dick, feeling full from both ends.

Steve maybe gets two quick thrusts of his dick before he’s cumming, some in Bucky’s mouth and then more on Bucky’s chin and chest. Bucky keens and licks his lips, desperate to get everything Steve’s willing to give to him. The sight makes Steve’s heart swell and his ego soar. His Bucky- a mess in their bed, covered in his cum and blinking up at him in adoration.

Steve leans in and gives Bucky a sloppy, filthy kiss. They’re both going to need another shower, but dang- it is so worth it.

------------------

Steve regretfully has to go to work that day, and they part with sweet kisses at the door. Bucky feels like he’s floating on air as he sets about making some spaghetti, homemade pork meatballs and rosemary-and-lamb-sausage.

He plans on presenting Steve with a plate of 2 meatballs and one sausage in an extremely provocative position.

Because Bucky wants the dick. Specifically Steve’s dick. Yes, the plug thing has been great. His confidence is soaring, he’s actually getting out of the apartment, and he is starting to feel better and better about himself. But he’s also sucking off Steve’s monster cock almost every night and he feels like he’s going out of his damn mind.

Because Bucky just knows that cock was made for his ass. And he wants it so bad, it feels like he can barely breathe with it. For fuck’s sake, his ass has up and almost evolved on him, sucking up and keeping whatever it can find. So yeah, Bucky wants the dick.

But he also wants whatever Steve has planned for him. He’s trusting Steve with this, and anyone who’s ever taken a look at Captain Steve Rogers knows their trust is well-founded. Bucky will wait however long Steve wants him to- he has to admit it, the build-up is hella fun.

Steve’s still getting penis pasta though.

Bucky’s just finishing putting the finishing herbs into his marinara sauce when the doorbell rings. Bucky freezes, and Winter is already up and sniffing at the door. Bucky puts the pot down calmly and at a low heat, turning to face the hallway. Winter sniffs the door then begins to growl.

Bucky swallows. That is not a good sign.

Someone begins to pound on the door, so loud and hard that the frame shakes and Bucky can actually hear the hinges rattle. The only time Bucky has ever heard a knock like that was when he was in raiding parties, and he panics that his door is going to get kicked in. Scrambling, he lunges down the hallway to open the door, frantic to make the noise stop.

He opens the door expecting a full team of ghost soldiers, here to finally claim him for all his bad deeds. What he gets instead is a large, well-muscled and tan man who is clearly drunk off his ass with what looks to be 5-day stubble. Bucky is understandably confused, and Winter’s growling increases in volume.

“Is Steve here?” The strange man barks, and Bucky narrows his eyes. He knows a mean drunk when he sees one. Bucky goes to close the door, and the man’s arm comes up and holds it open.

Bucky looks at the arm, then looks at the man. 5 ways to get out of this situation all flash in front of his eyes. As Bucky’s deciding whether to break the man’s arm or collarbone, the man backs off, hands up in a placating gesture.

“Look, sorry I just… I need to talk to him. Are you his new roommate? ‘Cause he stiffed me out of 3 months rent and I’m trying to see if we can work it out without getting the police involved, ya feel me?”

No. Bucky decidedly does not ‘feel’ this clearly lying man. Especially since he’s going about town besmirching his lover’s good name. Bucky glares and then something clicks, and it’s out of his mouth before he can help it,

“You’re Brock.”

The man- Brock- grins, and gives Bucky a once over. Bucky decides he’s going to need a third shower today. Brock nods and chuckles, inching closer and closer. Bucky’s brain is screaming for him to close the door (Winter hasn’t stopped growling), but something new in him keeps it open.

“That’s me. Steve mention me to ya? He’s been missing my fine ass, huh?”

Bucky snorts at that. Winter gives a snort of her own, shaking her white furred head. Brock looks down at her in surprise, clearly just recognizing that she was there. Winter goes back to growling and Brock leans back slightly. Bucky feels himself gain confidence, saying,

“Yeah, no. He really doesn’t. And he didn’t stiff you on rent. Didn’t stiff you at all, from what I hear.”

Brock’s eyes narrow, but Bucky just shoots him a shit-eating grin. Then Brock’s eyes slide to Bucky’s metal arm (Bucky rarely wears long sleeves when he cooks- it’s way too hot and Steve can’t nibble on his shoulders). Brock’s face turns cruel, and Bucky forces his face to freeze.

“So, you’re the freak that made him go all soft, huh? Was this close to tapping that finally, then he found some pathetic, PTSD-ridden asshole.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything but his heart is pounding. Once upon a time he though hearing the worst thoughts he’s ever had, voiced through a stranger, would have been the worst thing that could have happened.

Now he clenches around the plug in his ass and doesn’t give Brock the satisfaction of reacting. Winter, however, has bared her teeth. She’s actively trying to slam her way out of the apartment and past Bucky’s legs.

Bucky stands eerily still. He doesn’t let her pass. He takes up the whole doorway, watching Brock . Waiting.

Brock sneers, taking a step forward and then another until he’s completely Bucky’s personal space. This close, Bucky can smell that Brock’s chosen vice is rum, and he’s had stir-fry at some point today.

Bucky doesn’t flinch.

Brock gives him another once over, this one decidedly unfriendly. Then he snorts (or tries to- it comes out more like a cough) and shakes his head. Brock arrogantly turns around and starts walking away, weaving a bit as he makes his way down the hall. Bucky doesn’t move, though every muscle in his body is coiled. Brock calls over his shoulder,

“Tell Steve if he ever gets tired of fucking some broken loser, he can give me a call.”

Bucky moves.

He SLAMS the door shut so hard he distantly hears a picture in Steve’s room fall off the wall. He doesn’t care.   Bucky runs down the hallway of his apartment to the kitchen, counting under his breath,

“20- no 40 seconds for the stairs, he’s drunk- another 20 for the hallway, 30 to go down the street…”

He frantically begins to scoop the meatballs out of the marinara, dropping them into a smaller bowl and some on the floor. It is a true testament to Winter that she paces nervously behind him, whining low in her throat and ignoring the falling meat. Finally, Bucky’s eyes widen and he frantically beings counting down.

“10, 9, 8…”

Grabbing the pot he runs to the window, slamming it open and positioning the huge pot of sauce over the edge. Panting, he looks down to see Brock pause almost perfectly below the window, lighting up a cigarette.

Bucky’s grin is feral.

“One.”

The perfectly seasoned marinara is out the window, like a more delicious-smelling version of throwing out the chamber pot waste. Bucky watches it go and hears the splat, pausing to look only for a moment before hurtling himself back into the apartment. He presses his back to the wall, grinning in glee at the howls of fury coming from below. He closes his eyes in victory and laughs, sliding down the wall to press his face into Winter’s fur.

Except she’s not there. Still laughing, Bucky looks up to see Winter scarffing down all the meatballs she can find on the floor. Her head perks up and she gives Bucky her signature ‘oh shit you caught me’ look, but Bucky just shakes his head and laughs harder. They both happily go back to what they were doing, listening to Brock curse and scream from below.

Bucky shall always treasure the sight- Brock’s body locked in shock, arms outstretched in disbelief as the slightly-steaming sauce wilted the gel in his hair and ruined his leather jacket. God, he can’t wait to tell-

Oh no.

Bucky looks very seriously at Winter (as seriously as one can while still struggling to contain one’s giggles) and says,

“Steve doesn’t need to know about this, right?”

In response, Winter looks up at the bowl of meatballs on the counter. Bucky sighs and picks himself up. It’s not the first time he’s bribed her with food.

-----------

Steve is delighted to come home to a chipper boyfriend, with a bounce in his step and a bowl of suggestively plated rice noodles and crab dumplings. He didn’t even know dumplings came in penis shape, but he forgets everything when his palate is assaulted with the perfect amount of salt, carrots, peas, shallots, and soy. He moans and swallows the ‘head’ whole as Bucky looks on, gazing dreamily at his boyfriend while resting his head on his metal hand.

Steve praises Bucky’s new foray into Asian for all of 15 seconds before Bucky turns red and attempts to change the subject. Bucky politely asks how Steve’s day was, and Steve perks up considerably.

“Helped a little kid take her cast off. She was so brave, but she just kept clutching her Wonder Woman lasso and muttering to herself that this was warrior’s training. It was kind of amazing.”

Bucky laughs, then nonchalantly says,

“Yeah, I really wanted to see that. Maybe we can go to the theater tomorrow?”

Out in public and where I can’t bring Winter is what he means, and judging by Steve’s blinding smile, Steve hears him loud and clear. Steve nods enthusiastically, adding between a mouthful of noodle,

“If you’re OK being outside while being punished, that is.”

Bucky Barnes has a great poker face. Best in his company when he was abroad- turns out waiting hours to shoot someone gives a person the ability to shut down their facial features when need be. He won many a late night hand. He still has the deck of nudie cards he won from Montoya in Guam. So Bucky puts on his poker face, buries his face in his own noodles and prays it works.

Steve sees right through him. Steve continues as Bucky eats,

“By the way, I got the craziest series of voicemails today. All from my ex-asshole of a roommate, he got himself on one of his drinking spells again. Anyway, first one’s the usual: you suck, why don’t you come back, come on don’t you want me- typical Brock. But the second and third one are interesting.”

Bucky slurps up his noodles and says nothing. Even Winter has gone still. Steve raises his eyebrows and continues,

“Seems he got my new address by shamming my old landlord into thinking I owed him rent or something. Anyway, he was headed over here. So I’m listening on my break and I’m struggling to find my coat, cause I gotta get back here right? Especially since on the fourth message he’s talking about how he’s going to make me sorry- I’m thinking he’s headed for you.”

Bucky makes a noncommittal noise, intensely focused on his chopsticks and picking up the last dumpling. Steve continues,

“Now, I’m almost out of the door of the hospital when I get another voicemail. I immediately play it because I’m completely freaked out. Brock’s a piece of shit, you never know what they’ll do. Wanna guess what was on that last voicemail?”

Bucky does his best to make an innocent, questioning expression. He probablyends up looking like he just shat a firecracker. Winter pushes herself further against the wall of her bed.

Steve slowly puts his chopsticks down and pulls his phone out, placing it dramatically on the table. Bucky looks at the phone, then back to Steve. Steve presses his fingers together and leans back in his chair, leveling Bucky with a considering look.

“Or, you can just tell me why there’s a fuck ton of marinara sauce on the street directly below our apartment.”

Bucky winces. Dammit, he had been too caught up in coming up with another phallic dish for Steve he’d forgotten the sauce. As Bucky’s struggling to come up with an answer, he hears a soft hush of breath escape Steve. Bucky looks up and sees Steve smiling. Then his smile cracks, and Steve almost bends over the table in deep laughter. Bucky instantly joins him, pressing his face to the table in relief.

“Jesus, Buck, I haven’t laughed so hard since- haha, I don’t even know! I played that message for the whole damn- hahahahahaa, the whole damn floor! I wanna make a mixtape out of it!”

Bucky wipes the tears out of his eyes and laughs, beyond elated. He rushes out of his chair and into Steve’s still chuckling lap, giving his boyfriend a hard kiss. Bucky says breathlessly, between giggling kisses,

“He called me broken. He said I was just a pity-fuck to you. While I had your plug in my ass. That simply wouldn’t do, Stevie.”

Steve’s gaze goes fond, and he shakes his head, running his hand through the strands of Bucky’s hair that came free from his bun. Bucky leans into the touch like a cat, and Steve kisses his forehead.

“You’re so much more to me than he could ever fathom, sweetheart. Don’t know how lucky I got to get you.”

Bucky’s eyes are dazzling as he nips at Steve’s thumb, drawing it into his mouth and speaking around the digit,

“So, I don’t really need to be punished then, do I sir?” Bucky bats his eyelashes for added effect.

Instantly, the hand in Bucky’s hair goes tight, grasping at Bucky’s bun until Bucky’s neck is curved back in surrender. Steve bodily shifts Bucky better onto his lap, grinding at Bucky’s ass (and the plug within) while biting at Bucky’s neck. Bucky groans and presses himself up, offering more.

“S’not what you’re being punished for, babydoll. You came without permission this morning- untouched, fuck baby you’re amazing. Still, it wasn’t with me inside you. So I’m gonna have to punish that fantastic ass. Color?”

Bucky moans and shoves himself forward, toppling them both over the back of Steve’s chair. They land with an ‘oof,’ but Steve holds Bucky tight to his chest the entire way. Bucky stares down at Steve, a feral grin on his face as he leans in to kiss his lover,

“Green.”