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It’s late when Steve gets back to their tent, the sun already set and the stars glowing brighter than ever in the sky without the city lights there to drown them out. Bucky hears his telltale heavy footsteps about half a minute before he even opens the flaps to come inside.
Bucky props his head up on the heel of his hand. “Burning the candle at both ends?” Steve jerks toward him in surprise.
“You should be asleep, Buck,” he scolds half-heartedly, already bending down to unlace his boots.
“Couldn’t,” Bucky shrugs. “And what kind of sidekick would I be if I didn’t wait for you to get back?”
“For pete’s sake.” Steve shakes his head. “You’re still hung up on that?”
Bucky bookmarks the page in the book he’s reading and sets it down, gets up from his cot and makes his way over to Steve. “Nah, not really. The stuff they say in those newsreels is all propaganda, anyways. All horseshit.”
Steve pulls his shirt off and tosses it haphazardly to the side. “They’re not all that bad.”
Bucky snorts. “You’re America’s golden boy and I’m your plucky little assistant?”
Steve punches Bucky on the shoulder affectionately and sits down on his own cot. “I never said they didn’t exaggerate…I just think, you know. What do you want them to say?”
“Well-“ Bucky starts, but Steve cuts him off.
“Wait, actually, let’s not start that right now,” he laughs, pulling the covers over himself. “I’m dead tired. We both need sleep.”
“Fine…” Bucky lingers next to his cot for a few more seconds, scratches the back of his neck. “Um, Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I sleep in your cot tonight? It’s freezing in here.” He feels like a stupid kid for asking, but it really is cold as ever outside and Steve burns extremely hot, especially under covers.
Steve says nothing, just smiles and pulls the sheets back invitingly. Bucky can’t tell if he actually doesn’t mind or if he’s just too polite to say no. Regardless, Bucky pulls his shirt over his head, strips down to his boxers. For some reason he feels a little embarrassed when he does it right in front of Steve like that, but he chalks it up to their difference in size. Steve is practically a brick house compared to him.
“You gonna hog the covers, pal?”
“Mm, probably,” Bucky admits.
Steve laughs. “I’ll be sure to push you out of my bed if you do.”
Bucky narrows his eyes even though Steve probably can’t see it in the dark. “I’d like to see you try.”
He wakes up in the middle of the night because someone is shaking him gently, nudging their knee into his side.
“Buck,” they say. He grumbles in protest. “Bucky!”
He wakes with a start, squints his eyes in the pitch dark and sees Steve looming over him. Only then does he realize he’s been humping his leg like a fucking dog in heat.
“Oh,” he says, scrambling to the other side of the bed, embarrassment coursing through his veins. “Cap, I’m so sorry, I-“
“Bucky, wait, it’s okay,” Steve says, shaking his head. But Steve tells Bucky that pretty much everything he does is okay, so he’s not buying it.
“No, it’s really not,” Bucky protests, rolling out of bed. He can feel his face flushing and tears threatening to spill over onto his cheeks from embarrassment. He chokes them back, annoyed. “I’m 20, not some stupid teenager who does…that,” he finishes lamely, already heading back to his own cot. Steve grabs his hand before he can.
“Wait a minute. A guy can’t control what he does in his sleep, Buck. It’s nothing to fret about.”
Bucky remembers the first time he woke up and thought he wet the bed only to discover he soaked the sheets all because of his dream about Janie from down the street- but that was years ago, and he hasn’t done anything like that since he was 16 or 17. Regardless of how decidedly ‘Captain America’ Steve is being about the situation, there’s no way Bucky is staying in his cot after that.
He jerks his thumb towards his own bed, walks backwards until his calves hit the mattress. “I’m gonna sleep over here anyways,” he says awkwardly, not really sure what a person is supposed to say in this kind of situation. He sort of wants to apologize again, but he knows that Steve is just going to brush him off. He’s way too polite, way more patient with Bucky than he deserves.
“Okay, Buck,” Steve says, voice quieter. “That’s okay.”
Bucky climbs into his cot and pulls the covers up under his chin.
Friday nights on the base are always a good time, especially on the rare occasion that one of the guys finds a few girls to bring down to the camp, and then they all spend the rest of the night competing with each other over who the girls pick to take to bed. Tonight happens to be one of those nights, and the gals are gorgeous as ever, but Bucky just isn’t really in the mood. Not that he ever gets any anyhow- not when there’s plenty of men much older than him hanging around for the girls to pick from.
Steve never seems to be much interested in them at any given time- or the partying for that matter- even though the broads would go absolutely nuts if he made an appearance. Bucky tells him as much all the time, but he only ever blushes and shakes his head, says he’s not interested, that he’d rather have a steady gal than a one-time thing.
“Bucky!” Dum Dum yells, rushing over to him with drinks in hand. “Want something to drink, pal?”
Bucky considers it, but decides he’s too tired to start drinking this late. The days seem to run on forever out here, especially since he’s the youngest and everyone seems to think that means he’s their errand man. He swears his feet are going to fall off one of these days from running back and forth so much. “I’m not really feeling it tonight,” he admits, already standing up to start heading back. “Didn’t realize how tired I was until I thought about it.”
Dum Dum looks disappointed for a second, but is immediately distracted by one of the gals walking by. “No worries, kiddo,” he smiles, slapping Bucky on the back a little too roughly, clearly already tipsy. “Get some rest.”
Bucky starts to walk out, but Dum Dum grabs him by the shoulder, says, “Wait, hold on a second. You interested in taking a few for the road? I’ve got a few extra beers with your name on them as long as you keep your trap shut about it.”
Bucky perks up a little. “Oh, really? That’d be swell, Dum Dum. I’ll hide them under my cot and everything, promise.”
He carries all four of them in both arms while he makes the short walk back to their tent, the condensation on the bottles sweating onto his bare arms and against his t-shirt. Steve is sketching in his notebook when Bucky walks in, sitting cross-legged against his pillow with his book propped up against his knees. Everything looks so small next to him that it’s almost comical. He’s broken countless pencils on accident just because he’s still getting used to his own strength. Bucky doesn’t like to dwell on it too much.
“Hey,” he says, crouching down to shove the beers under his bed. “What are you working on?”
“I saw that, Buck. You shouldn’t be drinking.”
“I know, I know,” Bucky groans, flopping down on his bed. “Woof, I’m tired. You gonna lecture me?”
Steve chuckles softly. “You gonna listen if I do?”
“Definitely not.”
“Then no,” he smiles, erasing something on the paper.
“Good. You working on anything special?” Bucky asks again, because he really wants to know. The things that Steve draws are incredibly interesting to him because it’s how he sees the world, and not many people other than Bucky get to experience the real Steve Rogers instead of the man in the newsreels. And even then, Bucky’s only seen a few of his drawings. Asking Steve to show him feels like prying into something private, so he just waits until the occasional blue moon when Steve feels like letting him look.
“Just hands. I need work on fingers, the shape of them. Can never seem to get it quite right.”
Bucky hums. There’s still a little bit of tangible tension between them, but how tired he is weighs heavier on him than any awkwardness he might be feeling otherwise. “Should’ve been there, Cap,” he says. He can hear the scratch of Steve’s pencil on his sketchbook, and the rhythmic sound of it is practically lulling him to sleep. “Lots of sexy broads. You could’ve picked from any of them, I bet. No way anyone would turn you down.”
“Bucky. You know better than to talk about a woman like that,” Steve scolds, but Bucky can definitely hear something else in the tone of his voice that he can’t quite decipher.
“Tired,” Bucky excuses, yawning. “No filter.” He stretches his legs out on his bed.
“Sure, sure,” Steve deadpans. Then he clears this throat, says, “Hey, why don’t you come sleep over here, huh?”
Bucky turns over to look at him. “…Why?”
“It’s supposed to get down to 30 degrees tonight.”
“I dunno, Cap.”
“Bucky,” Steve tries again, serious now. “I already told you I don’t care about what happened. And it would look pretty horrible on me if my sidekick died of hypothermia when I could have done something about it.” He smirks at Bucky when he says the word sidekick, and most of the tension drains right out of him.
“You bite your tongue, Rogers,” he fires back, half-assed, dragging his feet over to Steve’s cot. “Ain’t no sidekick in this tent.”
Bucky wakes up in a puddle of his own sweat, white-knuckling the sheets underneath him, his mouth open wide and wet. He’s achingly hard against the mattress, his dick caught between his own bare belly and the thin fabric of his boxers, pushing lower on his hips every time he-
Steve shifts next to him. Bucky goes dead-still, his brain finally waking up and alerting him to what he’s doing.
He takes a second to cool down and catch his breath, panting heavy and hot into his pillow, releasing his iron grip from the bed. Steve is still asleep next to him. He can just get his wits together and slip out of bed real quiet, scurry back to his own cot.
“Bucky,” Steve mumbles next to him. He rolls over to face him, his hot breath rushing over Bucky’s neck, his voice rough with exhaustion. Christ. “You alright?”
“M’fine,” Bucky insists, muffled against his pillow. He’s still hard as a rock, praying to whatever God that might be looking upon them that Steve will go back to sleep.
“I heard you breathing heavy,” Steve says, pushing on Bucky’s shoulder to get him turned over on his back. “Was it a- oh.”
Bucky can’t really see all that well in the dark, but he assumes Steve’s eyes have gone huge.
“Cap, I-“
“Yeah.” Steve curls in closer to him, slides his hand over Bucky’s lower belly. Bucky whimpers, shocked. “It’s alright, honey,” he coos sweetly, and rests his big, warm palm right over Bucky’s dick where it’s straining against his boxers.
“Steve-“
“S’alright,” he repeats, nuzzling his nose against Bucky’s throat. “I’ll take care of you.” He says it like he would say anything else, like he’s telling Bucky it’s supposed to rain tomorrow or that the ball game is playing on the radio. Bucky’s stuck pinned to the bed, heart racing 500 miles an hour, more turned on than he’s ever been.
“Been needin’ it pretty bad, huh?” Steve observes, casual as ever. “Bet you’d go off in your shorts if I kept at it like this.” Bucky’s biting his bottom lip so hard there’s probably going to be teeth imprints in it tomorrow. He looks up at Steve from under his eyelashes, long, dark, and damp with sweat and nods, honest as hell.
He should be embarrassed, ashamed, but he wants nothing more than to shuck his shorts down and let Steve curl his fingers around his dick.
“Steve,” he whispers, desperate, thumbing at his own waistband, “Please, I-“
“Shh,” Steve urges, and kisses him, his dog tags landing cold and sharp on Bucky’s chest. His lips are soft and warm, and it wouldn’t be much different from kissing a dame if Bucky couldn’t feel stubble on his chin, if he wasn’t so aware of Steve’s protective, masculine presence.
He fits his hand under Bucky’s jaw and licks into his mouth, uses his other hand to yank down Bucky’s shorts and slide his fingertips over the head of his cock where it’s flushed and wet, leaking onto his belly.
Bucky whimpers and pushes his hips upwards, their tongues sliding together slow and sweet, Steve moving his hand to grip the full, hard length of him.
“That’s it,” he encourages, pulling back from their kiss to tuck his nose against the hollow of Bucky’s throat. He curls his wrist just right on the upstroke, lets the pad of his thumb slide slick and smooth over the head while he strokes him firm and tight, and Bucky is moaning way too loud so Steve pushes himself up onto his knees above him, gets right up in his face and kisses him again.
Bucky makes a little “mmh” noise against his mouth, overwhelmed with how much bigger he is, how much of his hand can fit around Bucky’s cock. He lets their tongues curl together again and Bucky wraps his arms around his big, broad shoulders, wanting to feel Steve’s solid chest against his own, wanting him closer.
“That’s good, Buck,” Steve says right up against his ear when he moans, fucking into Steve’s grip thick and warm and slippery, close to losing it. Bucky scratches his short nails against Steve’s back, overwhelmed, his face buried in the crook of his neck, and Steve says, “You gonna come?” Low and suggestive in his ear and Bucky curls his toes against the sheets and comes all over his own belly, Steve’s knuckles, and probably a little bit on the bed itself.
He whimpers and Steve kisses him again to keep him quiet, lets him ride it out against the comfort of his soft mouth.
“Breathe, honey,” Steve urges when he pulls back, flattening his hand over Bucky’s heaving chest, looking down at the mess he’s made of him: spent, covered in sweat and his own come, panting uncontrollably, his arms still wrapped tight around the back of Steve’s neck.
“Steve,” Bucky breathes for no reason at all, and Steve nods, unhooks Bucky’s iron grip from around his neck and pulls his boxers back up for him, and Bucky is looking up at him like he hung the moon. He flops down next to him and pulls the covers up over both of them, exhales heavily.
“You alright?”
Bucky rolls over and curls his fingers tentatively over Steve’s hip. “Yeah,” he says, looking at him admiringly, “Cap, you’re-“
“Don’t worry about it,” Steve urges. He reaches down and adjusts himself, and Bucky’s pretty, blue eyes get even bigger with curiosity and want. “I’m fine.” He knuckles his shoulder affectionately. “Think you’ll be able to sleep now?”
Bucky nods. He feels tired now, more relaxed and spread-out, but there’s a fresh layer of excitement blanketing his exhaustion. He gets the feeling that this is one of those things where you didn’t know how bad you wanted it until it happened. He didn’t think Steve was on the table, so his brain never went there. But now...there’s this. And Bucky’s not sure how easily sleep will come.
“Alright,” Steve says, turning to his side of the bed, “Get some rest, then.”
The boys have him lifting crates practically from dawn till dusk the next day, hauling the supplies and rations from one tent to another until he feels like his back is actually going to break. The sun beats down heavy and hot on the black dirt, the heat soaking right down into Bucky’s uniform. He finally finishes around 8, just when the sun is getting ready to set over the camp, and he drags himself back to the tent with tired feet.
Flopping down on his bed feels like heaven on earth. As an added bonus, Bucky suddenly remembers the beers he has stashed under his bed and feels a burst of excitement. He’s never been drunk before, not really- the guys will give him a beer sometimes when they’re already tipsy or drunk themselves, enough to agree to it- but it’s never enough to get him actually intoxicated, and he’d never been able to drink anything back in the states.
Four beers won’t do much to him, he knows that, but he still grabs all of them from under his bed anyways, pulls them into his lap and gets the top off the first one. He knows Steve will get mad if he catches him drinking this many at once, maybe even mad enough to push him around a little-
And, wow. He has no idea why the thought of that gets him riled up, why it gets his heart beating a little faster than before- but it does. It also has him palming himself over his wool uniform pants while he finishes the first beer, has him undoing his belt and stripping down to his briefs while he finishes the second one.
He downs the third one easy, feeling a little more loose and relaxed than before, but the fourth one takes him longer when he gets distracted with unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side of the bed, left only in his undershirt and briefs, one hand gripped tight around the bottle and the other hand knuckling the whole, sensitive spine of his dick where it’s pushing obscenely against the fabric, wet spot spreading wider the more he touches himself. It feels risky, doing this when anybody could walk into the tent, but he’s full-on tipsy now, and the risk of getting caught is a little bit thrilling.
Bucky starts off thinking about the girls from last night, how they might look under their dresses- perfect, perky tits, all soft and curvy and wet- but then he stops kidding himself and recalls the way Steve’s big, rough palm felt around his dick, the scratch of stubble against his chin, how he-
“Jesus, Buck.”
Bucky barely even jumps when Steve walks in, just casually drags his hand away from his dick like he’s guilty about it (even though he’s really, really not).
Steve marches over to him, his mouth pressed in a firm line. “Are you drinking? And you’re…” he looks Bucky up and down and Bucky flushes bright red despite himself. Steve snatches the beer bottle out of Bucky’s hand and downs the remainder of it, pushes the rest of them to the floor. He stands at the edge of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. “Anyone could have walked in, Bucky. Anyone. Might not’ve been me. You really need it that bad?”
Something about the way he says it makes Bucky shiver, makes his dick jerk in his briefs- he knows he should be ashamed, the way Steve is looking at him and talking to him in that tone, but he almost…wants Steve to say those things. Wants him to tell him that he’s been greedy, that he’s been needing to get off too much, and God, he has no idea why he wants that.
Feigning shame, he nods, his full lips pulling into a pout and his eyes going bigger than ever. Steve takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a second, rests his hand against the top of the cot.
“Okay,” he sighs, “Alright, Buck. Scoot over, pal.”
Bucky scoots to the other side of the cot eagerly and waits patiently for Steve to unlace his boots and remove his shirt.
“You know,” he says, pulling his socks off and tossing them to the side, “I’ve been workin’ hard all day, making sure everything is running smoothly around here- and I’m tired, Buck. I should be putting you off to sleep high and dry.”
He should sound exasperated, angry, but he doesn’t. Not even a little bit. And when he lies down on his side next to him, Bucky can tell that his dick is obviously hard, pushing against the zipper of his pants while he yanks Bucky’s briefs down, spits on his hand, and squeezes him roughly from root to tip.
Bucky moans, fucks into his grip, and Steve covers his mouth with a big, warm hand to keep him quiet. Bucky’s tipsy-bordering-on-drunk and this feels so good, his own precome helping him fuck slippery-wet into Steve’s hand, his wrist twisted so the pad of his thumb pushes, heavy and tight, against the underside of Bucky’s dick.
“Never met anyone that needed to rut off so badly all the time,” Steve says, casual, jerking him off faster, and Bucky whimpers against his hand. And then, “You need to come, don’t you, pal? Gonna make a mess all over yourself again?”
And Bucky’s gone.
He’s shaking when he comes down, panting, curling his toes in the sheets while Steve rubs his hand across his belly slowly, soothingly, to calm him down.
“You can’t drink in our tent, Buck. Not out in the open like that. It could get me in big trouble.”
Bucky nods. He takes a big, shuddery breath. “I know. M’sorry, Cap.”
The moonlight shines through a hole in the fabric of the tent and illuminates part of Steve’s profile, and Bucky has to remember to breathe when he’s suddenly reminded of how handsome Steve is.
A smile breaks through on his face despite his apparent irritation with Bucky, and he leans down and kisses his cheek sweetly. Warmth spreads, slow and thick like honey, under Bucky’s ribs. “You’re a punk,” he says, voice low and vibrating through Bucky’s chest, his fingers pushing through the mess on his belly. “Here.”
He leans to the other side of the cot and grabs his shirt from the floor, curls it up in a ball and uses it to wipe off Bucky’s stomach.
Bucky looks up at him when he’s finished, tangles his fingers in his dog tags like it’ll keep him close, feels the chains click over his knuckles. “Thank you,” he whispers, sincerely. Steve lets him hold on to them while he pulls Bucky’s briefs back up and tucks him away gently. His lashes look even longer and fuller than usual from this close up.
Suddenly, in his half-drunk state, the only thing Bucky wants is Steve’s heavy weight on top of him, to feel like the whole world is just the two of them. He tugs on the chains he has wrapped around his fingers, and Steve almost crushes him when he slips against the sheets.
“Buck,” he scolds softly, cupping the side of his face. He grounds himself, nudging Bucky’s nose with his own. “Careful.” His breath is hot against Bucky’s mouth, and his ribs are a heavy, solid weight against Bucky’s own. Bucky licks his lips. Outside, the crickets chirp furiously. Muffled voices float to their tent from the other side of camp.
Steve leans down and kisses him, just once, on the lips. He’s soft and warm and familiar and Bucky wants nothing more than to slide his tongue into his mouth and keep him there longer.
Steve pulls away. “Get some rest,” he says quietly, brows furrowed. He untangles himself and rolls over.
When morning comes, Bucky wakes up covered in sweat, the humid air clinging to his skin and soaking right through their blanket, making it feel like it’s been dipped in water. He kicks it off, irritated and hot, and forgets Steve is there until he bumps up against him. He always sleeps the same way: stretched out on his back with his arm slung over top of his head, the other arm resting comfortably across his belly. He practically takes up the entire cot, but Bucky really doesn’t mind being smashed up against him like this. It gives him a chance to observe him in a way he can’t during the day- watch the rise and fall of his chest, the jump of his pulse in his neck.
He suddenly feels wrong looking at him like this, and looks in the other direction- but notices, at the last second, that Steve is undeniably hard in his briefs.
Bucky reaches out and touches his fingers to Steve’s stomach carefully, waiting for him to react. When he doesn’t, Bucky trails his fingers down Steve’s flat belly, slides his thumb under his waistband.
Feeling bold, he scoots down the bed and gets his face right up in front of Steve’s cock, only hesitates a little bit before letting his bottom lip drag over the hot line of his dick through the fabric experimentally. He’s never sucked anyone off before, and he probably wouldn’t consider it for anyone else, but Steve is different, somehow. Steve is Steve. Bucky has this inexplicable drive to want to make him feel good, to please him- and he’s had a few girls do it to him, so he figures his subconscious probably picked up a few tricks along the way.
He tucks his thumbs underneath Steve’s waistband and pulls it down just enough to expose his cock and take a curious look at it. It’s long- really fucking long, Jesus, Bucky wonders if the serum did that or if he was just born lucky- and thick; thicker than Bucky’s for sure, flushed pink and wet at the tip, coarse, blonde hairs surrounding it. Steve’s chest still rises and falls peacefully.
He pitches forward and flattens his tongue against the underside, feels the give of the veins while he makes his way up to the top. Bracing his hands on either side of Steve’s hips, he licks the head into his mouth, lets it rest between the cushion of his tongue and lips.
Steve inhales big, opening his eyes a little, and Bucky takes the opportunity to relax his jaw, let his cock slide further into his soft, wet mouth. Steve exhales like he’s been punched in the stomach.
“OhmyChrist,” he groans, his hand automatically landing in Bucky’s hair, the muscles in his belly contracting. “Buck- Jesus, Mary, and Joseph- stop, you-“ He pulls on Bucky’s hair a little, forces him to pull off with a wet pop. Steve’s pupils are blown up huge, his cheeks pink with sleep. “You can’t just-what are you doing?”
“Let me,” Bucky pleads, with more force than he intends. He reigns himself in and lowers his voice. “You should let me, Cap. I could make you feel real good. Let you use my mouth until you go off down my throat.” Bucky has no idea where it comes from, has no idea when he learned how to talk filthy, but the words feel good falling out of his mouth.
“Buck, stop,” Steve says, clearly exercising restraint. “Stop talking like-“ He pauses, purses his lips.
Bucky quirks an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like a- like a lady of the night. You don’t have to do this just because you feel like you should.” And of course Steve would think that. It only makes sense.
Bucky licks his lips. “But what if I want to?”
Steve looks down at him, his brows drawn together in conflict. “If you want to…” He starts. He reaches down and touches his thumb to Bucky’s bottom lip curiously. “You want to, Buck?”
Bucky nods. “Yes.” More and more by the second. His own voice sounds foreign to him, like just doing this for a minute made him different. His nerves are shorting out like bad wires. He lets his mouth drop open and pulls Steve’s thumb into it, closes his lips around it. It’s solid and salty on his tongue, and Steve inhales quick, watching him with wide eyes, mesmerized.
He taps on the underside of Bucky’s chin with his other fingers, and Bucky opens his mouth again. Steve lets his thumb trail over his bottom lip, feels it bump over Bucky’s endearingly crooked, white teeth until he makes it to the curve of his jaw and rests his hand there.
“If you want to,” he says again. “Go on ahead. But only if you really want to.”
Bucky can hear men walking outside of their tent, laughing and talking and drinking their morning coffee, but nobody ever bothers Steve and Bucky unless there’s an emergency. It’s an unspoken rule.
He leans forward and noses along Steve’s dick, exhales hot and heavy all the way up to the tip, where he stops and looks up at him. Steve scoots up a little and props himself up against his pillow. Still holding Bucky’s jaw in his palm, he grips his own cock with his other hand and pulls him forward, guides it into his waiting mouth slow and careful.
He relaxes his jaw and covers his teeth with his lips, lets his tongue hug wet and tight against the underside while he sinks down as far as he can, going until he feels the head slide against the slick-wet start of his throat. He exhales through his nose and looks up at Steve for approval.
“Jesus, Buck,” he groans. He moves his hand from Bucky’s chin up to his hair, tangles his fingers in it. “You- hmm, fuck-“ He whines, watching Bucky manage to get almost all of his cock in his mouth just by relaxing his throat, his eyes watering and his nose nearly touching Steve’s belly. But he’s afraid he’ll start choking and ruin everything, so he lets up. He doesn’t just want to do this; he wants to put on a show.
He looks up from under wet eyelashes with big, doe eyes, flattens his tongue over the soft-wet tip of Steve’s cock and licks it like an ice cream cone, his tongue rolling over it smooth and slow, a string of precome following him when he pulls away. Steve is panting, swearing under his breath, his dick hot and leaking and heavy in Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky gives the head a generously wet kiss with his full, pouty lips, watches it twitch towards him.
“God. You look so-“ Steve starts, but shakes his head, tips it backwards.
Bucky wants to know, so he sucks the head into his mouth, curls his tongue around it before he pulls back and says, as sultry as he can manage, “Look so what?” His breath warm, his lips brushing against the slit with every word.
Steve groans, and his fingers hold on tighter to Bucky’s hair. “Christ. Christ, Buck. I can’t- can’t watch you do it, I’ll-“
“Come?” Bucky finishes for him, leaning down to lick over his balls, his nose nudging against the shaft while Steve whimpers, the muscles in his thighs bunching up and relaxing. “Ain’t that the point?” He kisses up the length of Steve’s cock slow and filthy, stops at the tip to roll it between his lips, let it slide against his cheek. “C’mon,” he begs, wrapping his hand around Steve’s dick and jerking him against his mouth, “Talk dirty, Cap. Say the things you wanna say.”
Steve is biting down on his lip hard, arm slung across his forehead while his hips jerk into Bucky’s grip. But Bucky wants him to look, so he lets go of him cold-turkey and crawls up the bed to push his arm away, tug his lip from between his teeth.
“Buck, what-“
Bucky cuts him off by pressing their lips together desperately, sitting his ass right on top of Steve’s cock so it’ll drag between his cheeks every time he moves. He knows exactly what he’s subtly asking for, and even if he doesn’t really mean it right away, he just wants to get Steve worked up, get him talking.
Steve whimpers into his mouth, moves his hand down to cup Bucky’s ass and keep him grinding against his dick.
“Talk to me,” Bucky pleads. “Like you were doin’ yesterday, come on.”
Steve squeezes his ass reflexively, works his dick right against Buckys’ briefs- a long,
slow drag like he would do if he were inside of him. Bucky moans into Steve’s neck, low and tortured.
“Yeah?” He asks shyly, his fingers flirting with Bucky’s waistband. “That get you hot, Buck?”
“Yes,” Bucky admits, with only a little bit of shame. Hearing filthy words come out of Steve’s mouth is so unexpected and out of character, and it gets him going in no time. He can feel Steve’s dick soaking his briefs, leaking wet and hot against the fabric whenever he hefts Bucky up with his big hands, both of them now on his ass, and lets his cock drag there, thick and warm and sort of intimidating. Everything is happening so quick that Bucky’s head is spinning, and he’s not sure what he wants, exactly, but his heart feels like it’s doing flips and warmth is pooling expansively in his belly, and there’s no way he wants to stop.
Steve turns his head and kisses his cheek, quick and sweet. He gets his mouth right next to Bucky’s ear, says, “Then maybe I should tell you about how you’ve got a mouth made for sucking fellas off.”
Bucky stills, open-mouthed and shocked. “Steve-“
“You like hearin’ that?” Steve presses on, encouraged by his reaction. “Like hearin’ about how every guy that lays his eyes on you gets to thinking about that pretty, pink mouth on his prick at one time or another? Might even have a steady dame back home, too, and he can’t help himself but to imagine your lips instead of hers once in a while, what they would feel like…” He trails off then, lost in his own words.
Bucky can’t help himself but to moan again, his cock sliding against Steve’s belly, and he leans up to touch their mouths together, gives him one quick, sucking kiss on his bottom lip. “Did you think about that?” He asks, breathless, “When you met me, did you?”
Steve doesn’t say anything for a moment, eyes closed and brows furrowed like he’s fighting himself, but he finally grits his teeth, says, “Yes. God help me, but yeah. I did.” He looks down suddenly after he says it, like he’s ashamed, but Bucky isn’t having that.
“Hey.” He stops grinding against Steve’s stomach and ducks down to kiss under his chin, getting Steve to look up at him again. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” Steve doesn’t seem convinced, so Bucky gives him a look as dirty as he can manage, chewing on his bottom lip, and drags himself down the length of Steve’s body. There’s no way any sane person could pass up getting their hands on Steve’s middle- his muscles, his tight little belly, his trim waist- so Bucky doesn’t waste that opportunity on the way down.
“When you were thinking about me…” He starts, interrupting himself to give Steve’s lower stomach a kiss. “…All those dirty things…you should know that I was doin’ the exact same thing. Worse, even.”
Steve chuckles a little, still sounding like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Bucky nods, and means it. He knew about Captain America long before he got assigned to actually live and work with him, and the kiddo hero-worship he had for him blossomed into something he wasn’t ready to understand yet. He’d watched Captain America on the screen whenever he had a message before the pictures, but this was Steve Rogers, a real person instead of some imaginary guy in newsprint, and watching him undress the first time they shared a tent had Bucky’s brain thinking some thoughts that probably would have made his dear old mother faint, god rest her soul.
Bucky makes his way back down to Steve’s dick, grabs one of Steve’s hands and directs him to wrap his fingers around himself. Steve gets the picture quick, stroking himself slow and tight while he watches Bucky intently. He still looks a little shy about the whole thing, a bright pink flush running all the way from his cheeks to his chest, but it seems to get better when Bucky talks, so: “You ever think about this, Cap? Me, wakin’ you up with a suckjob? Because I did.”
“Jeez, Buck-“
“I always wondered what it would taste like and how it would feel layin’ on my tongue.” He gives the tip a sloppy, wet kiss, sliding his flat tongue over the head, Steve’s knuckles bumping up against his mouth. He licks his lips when he comes up for air, and Steve looks down at him with huge pupils, his throat and chest slick with sweat from the humidity.
“Now you tell me,” Bucky requests.
Steve slows his hand down, pursing his lips and rolling his thumb over the head of his dick absentmindedly. “Buck. I don’t know if…I should-“
“Steve.” Bucky says his name seriously, making direct eye contact to let him know he’s done beating around the bush.
“…Okay…” Steve starts, unsure. He cradles Bucky’s chin in his other palm, his eyes focused on his mouth. “Well, I always wondered what it would be like to kiss you. How soft your lips would be.”
Bucky’s stomach flips, filling up with butterflies. “And is it good?”
He wants to kick himself after he says it, but Steve just smiles down at him, his thumb brushing over Bucky’s cheek, and says, “Yeah, Buck, it’s good.” He takes a big breath in and out then, his expression changing. “And I thought about other stuff, too.”
“Like what?”
Steve grips himself earnestly, closing his fist around his dick tighter, stroking himself faster. “God,” he breathes, his blush running deeper and further. “Thought about- Jesus, the first time I saw you lookin’ up at me with those blue eyes…” He trails off, pushing his dick toward Bucky and letting it press against his cheek. Precome smears wetly across his face, and Bucky turns his head to curl his tongue around the slick head of Steve’s cock, letting it rest in his warm, soft mouth.
“Bucky.” Steve tucks his thumb into the corner of Bucky’s lips, pushes it in next to his dick just so he can feel it rub against the inside of his cheek. “I want-“ he starts, overwhelmed, his hips pushing off the bed, “Christ, but I wanna come on your face.”
Bucky makes a little shocked-pleased noise and pulls back. God, but the sole idea that Steve gets fired up thinking about doing that is enough to have Bucky saying: “Please.” He sticks his tongue out and opens his mouth all the way, looks up at Steve with big, moony eyes.
“Oh, God,” Steve groans, using his grip on Bucky’s chin to tilt it upwards, sliding his dick over Bucky’s tongue while he jerks himself hard and quick. “You look so good like this,” he admits. “You’ve got no idea, Buck.”
Bucky moves forward and sucks the head into his mouth, flattens his tongue over the hot, leaking tip, watches as Steve’s legs start to shake with the double stimulation- his hand and Bucky’s full, red lips.
“Bucky,” Steve moans, laying his palm over Bucky’s cheek to feel the slide of his cock inside his mouth. “Buck- God, I can feel myself there. Jesus, that’s gonna make me come.”
Bucky lets up and goes back to sticking his tongue out all sweet and soft and inviting, and Steve’s dick is leaking, wet and messy, all over his lips and chin, bumping up against his nose while he works it quick and rough.
Before he closes his eyes, he gives the tip a slow, smacking kiss, his plush mouth trailing precome while he pulls back, and he looks right up into Steve’s eyes while he licks it off his lips, and Steve moans, says, “Bucky, ‘m gonna- Buck, oh God, oh oh-“ and comes, wet and thick and messy all over Bucky’s pink cheeks and his hot, open mouth, his belly tensing up before the muscles relax, his toes curling against the damp sheets so hard the pink skin fades white.
“Bucky,” he moans, squeezing his dick tight all the way up to the tip, milking it for all its worth. His cock jerks in his hand, drooling right onto Bucky’s wet tongue, and Bucky swallows before he leans up to clean the rest off the tip, Steve shivering with how sensitive it is to have Bucky’s mouth on him again so quick.
He slides the pad of his thumb across the mess on Bucky’s cheek, and Bucky licks it into his mouth, watching Steve’s dick twitch one last time, weakly, with interest.
Steve exhales heavily, tucking a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear. “Oh, Buck,” he coos, pulling his thumb out of his mouth.
Bucky pulls back. “If you’re about to tell me we shouldn’t have done this, I swear before Christ-“
“Cool your jets. I was just gonna apologize for making a mess of your face, pal.” He leans off the edge of the bed and grabs a dirty t-shirt.
Bucky snorts. “You’re the only person on earth that would apologize for going off on someone’s face, I’m sure of it.”
Steve flushes pink, tilts Bucky’s head back with fingers under his chin. “Sorry,” he says, wiping Bucky’s cheeks with the inside-out shirt. “Unfamiliar territory.”
It takes Bucky a second to register his words.
“Wait.” He pulls the shirt away from his face. “Are you tellin’ me what I think you’re tellin’ me?”
Steve shrugs. “Never had the opportunity.”
Bucky scoffs. “Never had the- are you kidding me? Do you realize that any dame from here to Kalamazoo would give her left tit just for one night with Captain America?”
“Buck-“
“Sorry, I mean, it’s just- wow. I don’t believe it. Look at you.”
“Keep that up, you’ll inflate my ego,” Steve smiles.
Bucky rolls his eyes. “I get it, though, I guess. Like you said, you want a steady thing, not a one night stand.”
Steve gives Bucky a strange look before his expression quickly smooths out and he scratches the back of his neck habitually. “Right,” he says. “That would be…ideal.”
The sun is rising, now- Bucky can see the pink and bright yellow peeking through the cracks in the tent- and right on cue, the trumpets sound.
“Guess we should get up,” Steve says.
Bucky scoots up the bed and sits right on Steve’s lap, causing him to say ‘oof’ and steady his hands around Bucky’s waist. “Or we could take a sick day,” he says, grinding his half-hard prick against Steve’s flat belly, getting it to chub up again with the attention.
Steve laughs, tugs him forward to kiss him on the mouth. To keep him there, Bucky holds his hand at the back of his neck, flirts his tongue between his lips. Steve takes it, opening his mouth to let their tongues slide together lazy and sweet, one of his hands moving to rest at the small of Bucky’s back.
They kiss like that for what feels like eternity; slow, wet kisses bleed together until Bucky feels dizzy and lightheaded, and he’s making little whimpering noises against Steve’s mouth every time the wet tip of his cock pushes against him. He can feel Steve getting hard again underneath him, slowly, and his lips are so soft and warm that Bucky’s insides feel like they’re melting away.
“Seriously,” Steve says, breathless, when he gets a chance to pull back. He rests his forehead against Bucky’s. “They’ll come looking for us.”
“Mm, alright,” Bucky replies, kissing him one last time.
When they’re both up and dressed, Steve gives Bucky a once-over, brushing his uniform off here and there, straightening the sleeves out where they need it. When they’re ready to leave, he places his big, warm hand on the back of Bucky’s neck as if to guide him like he’s done a million other times, but this time, something inside of Bucky twists and pulls, and it makes his knees go weak and his stomach flutter.
“Whoa,” Steve says, catching him against his solid chest. “Buck, Jesus- I knew I should have made you drink more water last night, dammit. Did you even eat anything, either?” He leans down and scoops Bucky up bridal-style. “C’mon, let’s get you to the nurse.”
“Wait!” Bucky protests. “I’m fine, I swear. Just had a little lost my footing, is all. Don’t need the nurse.”
“Nope,” Steve says, already stepping out of the tent. “This is on me. You’re gonna rest it off.”
Bucky decides not to protest anymore. When Steve gets something in his head, he doesn’t let it go for anything. And Bucky has no good explanation for falling over like that, anyhow.
A few of the guys give them weird looks, but no one actually says anything except for Dum Dum, who walks right up to Steve, jerks his thumb towards Bucky and says, “Honeymoon? It’s about damn time.”
Bucky can practically feel Steve’s blush.
“Dizzy spell,” he corrects.
Bucky spends almost the entire rest of the day in the medical tent bored out of his skull, per Steve’s orders. He practically drives the nurses insane on purpose just so they’ll give up and send him back to his own tent- bouncing his legs, drumming on the bedrail, asking a million questions- and finally, one of the older nurses tells him to get lost before someone strangles him.
When they’re all looking the other way, he lifts a jar of Vaseline from the bedside cart and tucks it into his pants for later. The women seem more than happy to watch him leave.
“You feeling any better?”
Bucky watches Steve kick his boots off at the front of the tent through half-shut eyes, stripped down to his briefs and a white t-shirt, spread out across Steve’s cot.
“Much.”
Steve takes off his uniform and folds it carefully into two neat piles, which he places on top of his desk. “Went to the medical tent to get you, but they said you left a while back.” His tone suggests he’s not happy with Bucky’s decision, but he’s too tired to lecture him over it.
“I got bored.”
Steve nods, chewing on his bottom lip, and finally, finally comes to bed. The second he nudges Bucky over and sits down with his sketchbook in hand, Bucky crawls into his lap and starts pawing at his waistband.
“Whoa, easy, pal,” Steve laughs, pushing Bucky’s eager hands away. “I only just got here.”
“You can sketch later,” Bucky whines, already reaching for him again. “C’mon, just-“
“Bucky, no.” Steve points a finger at him like he’s a misbehaving dog, and Bucky’s muscles go slack, his insides melting like ice in a hot pan. Steve’s other hand is curled around his hip, rough and commanding, and Bucky sits back obediently.
“Sorry,” he says quietly. His throat feels dry.
“You can sit and watch me draw if you want to. Do you?”
Bucky nods, climbing off Steve’s thighs and stretching out next to him. When he lays his head against the pillow, Steve says, “It’s okay, Buck, you can-“ and pushes on the back of his neck until Bucky’s head is resting on his chest, right over the steady beat of his heart.
Bucky lays like that for what feels like eternity, watching the drag of Steve’s pencil across the page, feeling lightheaded and warm, comfortable under the weight of Steve’s arm.
He doesn’t pay attention to the drawing or the passing of time at all, and it isn’t until Steve taps on his arm and says, “What do you think?” That he realizes the sketch is finished.
He lifts his head and tries to shake himself into coherency, lift the inexplicable fog from his brain. “It’s amazing,” he says honestly. Steve drew the two of them in full uniform, the way the comic artists draw them in the newspapers- except Steve’s rendition is cleaner and more realistic, complete with a Bucky that actually looks like Bucky instead of some hyper, scrawny little kid the way some people draw him.
Steve shrugs. “It’s okay.” He tosses the book along with his pencil onto the bedside table and stretches his arms over his head, inhales and exhales deep, Bucky’s head going along for the ride with the rise and fall of his ribcage.
“C’mere,” he beckons, tugging on Bucky’s shirt when he drops his arms. Bucky pushes himself up and onto Steve’s lap, his legs spread on either side of Steve’s thighs, and kisses him firm on the mouth.
Steve inhales, shocked, but steadies Bucky with a big, warm hand at the back of his head, lets Bucky fall forward until their bellies are pressed together, Bucky’s t-shirt rucked up to the bottom of his ribs with the movement.
“I’m so sick of looking at maps all day,” Steve admits when he pulls away, scratching his short nails down Bucky’s bare back. “It feels nice to come back here and just…do nothing. With you.”
Bucky’s blood runs hotter. “Sap,” he says affectionately, bumping their noses together.
Steve laughs. “Well, one of us has to be the nice one.”
Bucky squirms in his lap, grabs Steve’s wrist and pulls it until his hand is resting right on top of Bucky’s ass. “I can be nice,” he says. He reaches back and shucks his own briefs down to his thighs, leaving Steve’s hand pressed up against bare skin.
“Buck,” Steve blushes, curling his fingers reflexively.
“I’m bein’ nice, see?” He urges, not really sure what he’s saying anymore, and lets Steve’s fingers dip curiously over his hole, right where he wants them.
“You’re-“ Steve breathes, shocked, and Bucky feels Steve’s dick jerk against his lower belly. “Jesus Christ, Bucky, you’re all…wet. Like, like-”
“I know,” Bucky purrs, hiding his smile against Steve’s shoulder, pleased with his reaction. “I know.”
Steve’s heart jumps up about five beats faster, Bucky hears it, and his breath gets all shaky in his chest. “God,” he says, sliding his fingers over Bucky’s hole, smooth and slick like he’s testing the give, and Bucky whimpers, the weight of Steve’s fingers satisfying and intimidating at the same time. “What did you do?”
“Swiped some slick from the nurses.”
“Bucky,” Steve scolds, but his middle finger is dipping in until it’s knuckle-deep, curling inside of him while Bucky’s legs start to shake. “You’re returning that tomorrow.”
“That’s what you’re thinking about right- oh, Steve-“
“You’re all stretched out,” Steve breathes, fitting two fingers inside of him, pushing and twisting them in an inexperienced way that still makes Bucky’s toes curl, like he’s experimenting with the mechanics of it. “You did this to yourself?”
He sounds disbelieving- as if, in his innocence, he didn’t even know that men did this sort of thing. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case, and the thought is endearing and exciting all in one.
“While you were gone,” he confirms, sitting back on Steve’s fingers, letting them slide all the way in. “Wanted you to-“
“Yeah,” Steve sighs, tilting Bucky’s chin upwards to kiss him, nudging a third finger alongside his other two. “Yeah, Buck,” he says against his mouth. “God, you’re sweet.”
His dick is rubbing up against Bucky’s belly wet and messy, the tip poking out of his briefs and making a mess of the fabric and Bucky’s skin alike.
“Let me sit on it,” Bucky says without thinking, and Steve groans like someone socked him in the stomach. “Just let me sit on it, I’ll- all you have to do is lay there, even put your hands behind your head if you want to-“
“Jesus,” Steve says, his cock jerking in his briefs again, and Bucky reaches down to tuck the waistband under his balls, let their dicks slide together slick and hot.
Bucky fumbles for the Vaseline on the bedside table while their tongues roll together, Steve’s mouth plush and sleep-warm and inviting. He gets some on his palm and strokes Steve root to tip, Steve’s mouth going slack and open with his tight grip, his free hand tangling in Bucky’s hair.
“Buck,” he moans, fucking into his fist, “Can I- I wanna be inside you.”
Bucky groans. “Yeah.”
Steve pauses for a second, holds Bucky still. “Wait,” he says. “We ain’t movin’ too fast, are we?”
“If we are, I don’t care.” Bucky goes to kiss him again, leaning in hopefully, but Steve holds him back with a hand on his chest.
“Bucky, wait,” he urges. “I don’t…I don’t want to push you into this.”
Bucky scoots up on his lap, lets go of Steve’s dick and watches it smack wetly against his belly. “You ain’t,” he says. “I’ve been tryin’ to jump your bones since the moment we met, whether I wanted to admit it or not.”
Steve turns bright pink, and the flush spreads all the way down to the middle of his chest. “Sure know how to make a fella feel special, Buck.”
Bucky doesn’t know what compels him to say it, but he knuckles Steve’s chin affectionately, says, “You are special.”
Steve smiles big and bright before he tugs Bucky forward to kiss his cheek, rubbing his fingers against the back of his neck absentmindedly. “Now who’s the sap?” he teases.
Bucky gets his hand on Steve’s dick and pushes himself up, lets the head flirt with his slick-wet hole, and Steve’s breath shudders out of him quick and surprised. “Not me,” he says.
Steve cups his chin, thumbs his bottom lip. “Buck, are you sure you-“
“I’m sure,” he says, nodding, sinking down, down, down until Steve’s dick is halfway inside of him and his thighs are shaking, his fingers gripping Steve’s shoulders desperately. Steve is panting, his fingers moving to grip into Bucky’s sides like he’s trying to hold back. Steve feels huge inside of him, and when Bucky forces himself to slide the rest of the way down he feels split open and incredibly full, like moving even a little bit would tear him from the inside out.
“Fuck,” Steve chokes out, teeth gritted, nails pressing into Bucky’s back. “You’re so- oh- you’re so tight, wetter than anything, Buck-“
“I’m gonna die if you keep talkin’ like that,” Bucky manages. He takes a deep breath, skids his palms down to Steve’s chest and thumbs his nipples, watches them tighten up for him. “Don’t move yet,” he requests, trying to relax his muscles.
“I’ll come if I do,” Steve says, honest, pupils huge, stomach muscles tensed up and quivering, and Bucky can’t help himself but to reach back curiously and touch his fingers against where they’re connected. Steve lets out a breathy ‘oh’ when Bucky touches his cock where it’s forcing him open, and Steve’s dick jerks inside of him reflexively.
Steve tugs on his arm until their chests are pressed together and Bucky’s nose is tucked against his collarbone. “Hurts?”
“No, feels nice,” Bucky sighs, squirming in his lap, and Steve puts his palm on Bucky’s lower back, rubs it soothingly in small, concentric circles. “Feels all full and warm inside.”
Steve’s other hand immediately goes to Bucky’s belly when he says it, and the thought of Steve’s dick shoved up that deep inside of him makes his cock leak wet and messy against Steve’s hip, makes him push up onto his knees and then slide down again.
“Oh, Buck- am I- is this hurting you?” Steve asks when Bucky’s arms start to shake, the muscles going lame with the effort of holding himself up. “We can stop, just-“
Bucky shakes his head quickly. “No, no, I just can’t- I know I said you could just sit there with your arms behind your head, Cap, but could you-“
Bucky doesn’t even finish his question before Steve is lifting him up and off, planting his own knees on the mattress and laying Bucky down belly-up. He kisses him soft and sweet, licks into his mouth while he cups his jaw and presses his dick right up against Bucky’s hole with enough pressure to make his back arch.
Bucky gets his own knees up as close to his chest as he can and hooks his ankles behind Steve’s back, wraps his arms around his neck. “Steve,” he begs, desperate, scooting back against him, and Steve pushes up inside of him thick and smooth, doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated and Bucky’s toes are curling against his spine.
“Jesus,” Steve says, dropping forward so their foreheads rest together. “Buck, can I-“
“Yeah.”
Steve pulls out and pushes back in, slow, whimpering when he’s seated deep inside of Bucky again.
“Y’ever do a girl before, Cap?” Bucky asks, already knowing the answer before he asks.
“No,” Steve answers quietly, shoving in again after pulling out further, and it knocks the breath out of Bucky.
“Girls are different,” Bucky says, just to talk. “Gotta use a rubber. But you can go all bare up inside of me.”
Steve shudders. “Bucky-“
“Bet it feels nice to get up in there all hot and wet and tight and not even worry about knockin’ me up, huh?”
“Bucky,” Steve says, panting, fucking into him faster and harder than before, enough so that the bed starts to shake. “Don’t- uhn- don’t talk like that, I’ll come-“
“It’s okay, Cap,” Bucky breathes, spreading his legs wider, his eyes rolling back in his head when Steve plunges in deep and hard, his mouth open and pressed up against the sensitive part of Bucky’s throat. “You can come inside me, you can-“
“Christ,” Steve moans, rolling his hips quick and filthy, his hands around Bucky’s middle pulling him closer every time he pushes in, “Bucky-“
“C’mon,” Bucky urges, clenching his muscles tighter, hotter around Steve’s dick, feeling it drag thick and wet inside of him, “Fill me up, I want you to, please-“
Steve’s hold on Bucky’s middle tightens and he stills, thigh muscles tensing up, flush running all the way down to his belly, his mouth open against the hollow of Bucky’s throat while he comes.
“Steve,” Bucky moans, pushing his fingers through his hair, feeling how wet and hot it is inside of him when Steve pushes into him one last time, groaning low and tortured on the tail end of it.
“Mmh,” Steve hums against Bucky’s mouth when he kisses him, shuddering, his cock twitching inside of him while Bucky scratches his nails down his back. Goosebumps come up on Steve’s skin, and Bucky smooths them down with warm palms, his own dick pushing hot and insistent against Steve’s belly.
“Oh, Buck,” Steve says against his mouth, hot, coming down from it. He moves to pull out, but Bucky whines in protest, pulls him in closer with his ankles.
“Feels nice,” he explains. Steve nods in agreement and wraps his hand around Bucky’s dick, gives it a few lazy strokes that make Bucky’s toes curl.
“Don’t have to,” Bucky mumbles, but still pushes into his grip when Steve’s thumb slides over the head.
Steve bites at the soft of his throat, makes Bucky shiver all the way down to his toes while he tucks hair behind Bucky’s ear, his hand warm against Bucky’s cheek.
“I want to.”
When Bucky wakes up, sticky and hot and curled up against Steve’s chest, an inexplicable feeling of wrong lurches through his stomach without warning. The war will end, or he will die, or get captured, or get separated from this in some way, inevitably. And Steve will be left to pick up the pieces, and it will ruin him.
But if Bucky leaves now- as much as it will hurt, Steve will be okay.
He packs his bag full of as much as it can hold- which isn’t much, but he just needs enough to get back to the states- and starts to zip it closed before he pauses and grabs Steve’s sketchbook off the nightstand, shoves it in his pack. He figures Steve probably won’t miss it.
He slings his bag over his shoulder and only hesitates for a minute before he leans down careful as ever and presses the softest of kisses to Steve’s forehead. Steve stirs and Bucky’s heart leaps into his chest, but he only mumbles, “Hmm?” With his eyes closed, his fingers extending as if to reach for Bucky.
“Just going to take a piss,” Bucky whispers, and prays Steve can’t hear how much his voice is shaking.
He makes it about a mile outside of the camp before his legs start to shake and he has to sit down with his back scraping up against the bark of the tree behind him. The ground is cold and gives a little with his weight, and he buries his face in his hands.
He has no idea where he’s going to go or how he’ll even get back to the states with two dollars in his pocket and no language in his vocabulary other than English, but he’s already done one too many selfish things in his life and Steve is too good to just be another one of those things. Bucky loses track of time whittling a stick down to almost nothing with his switchblade just to stall until he actually formulates a legitimate plan that will get him back to Brooklyn.
He dozes off somewhere in the middle of trying to carve a toy gun out of stick like he used to do as a kid, and wakes up with black boots standing tall in front of his face.
He panics and flicks his knife open while he jerks to his feet before he registers the fact that it’s Steve standing in front of him and slumps against the tree.
“Christ almighty,” he exhales. “Probably should have brought my tommy gun.” He scratches the back of his neck, tries to get his breathing back to a normal speed.
Steve shoves his hands in his pockets, straightens his shoulders out. “You shouldn’t really leave without it.”
Bucky looks down, kicks the grass under his foot.
“Somehow I misplaced my sketchbook. You wouldn’t happen know anything about that, would you?”
Bucky tongues the inside of his cheek. Steve’s expression is blank.
“If that’s what this is about-“
“What do you think?” Steve cuts in, stepping closer. “What do you think, Buck.” It’s not a question- it’s exasperation, more than anything. He pulls his hand out of his pocket, grips Bucky’s collar like he’s fixing to lift him up off the ground. “Because what I think,” he starts, his voice stern and clear. Bucky swallows. “What I think is that it was pretty goddamn stupid of you to leave the base without me. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Bucky laughs. “I don’t need you to babysit me, I’m not some kid.“
“Look,” Steve says, his boots almost touching the tips of Bucky’s toes, “I understand that you’re having some queer crisis or something-“
Bucky snorts. “Well, that’s news to me.”
Steve loosens his grip. “What?”
He shakes his head. “That’s not why I left. Look, just forget it, huh?”
Steve stands taller. “Not a chance. If it was something I did…”
He stops and drops his shoulders a little. The wind shakes the leaves on the trees behind them. Steve tucks his hand under Bucky’s chin.
“I just want to make it right. Even if you still have to leave.”
“It wasn’t you.” Bucky takes a deep breath, curls his fingers around Steve’s wrist. “I just know that you’re gonna find a girl that’s worth your time some day. Or you’ll decide I’m a square and go be a big shot on the big screen without me. Or they’ll decide to deploy us in totally different places.”
Bucky stops and lowers his voice. “Or I’ll get killed.”
“Never.”
“You can’t know that.” Bucky licks his lips, rolls his bottom one under his teeth. “My point, Cap, is that there’s no way I can be a sure thing. I can’t be what you deserve. And that’s-”
Steve tugs Bucky forward and smashes their lips together without warning, throwing Bucky off balance but catching him with a hand behind his neck to prevent him from smacking his head against the tree. Bucky inhales quick and kisses back- confused, but wanting to savor every moment he gets with Steve in case it’s his last.
When Steve pulls away, he leans his forehead against Bucky’s and pushes a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.
“Buck,” he says. “You are my sure thing. You’re the only sure thing I’ve got.”
All of Bucky’s breath leaves him at once. “What?”
“Come back to base with me.” Steve grabs Bucky’s hand and pulls him in his direction, his perfect, white teeth all on display.
“Now wait a minute,” Bucky says. “You told me you were lookin’ to go steady with someone. I assumed you meant some gal you were sweet on.”
“Yeah, well. When you assume things…”
Bucky smirks. “Yeah, yeah, I know the rest.”
Steve presses their palms together. “Who I was really holding out for…was you.”
“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Steve ducks his head. “I can’t be as brave as Captain America all the time, you know.”
Suddenly, Bucky’s chest feels like it’s been filled with liquid sunshine and he jumps up on Steve, knowing he’ll be quick and strong enough to catch him.
“Bullshit,” he says, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and pinching his cheek playfully.
“You know what? You’re right.” Steve kisses Bucky firm on the mouth, bounces him against his stomach to adjust his grip. “Let’s go back to base and get married. Right there, right in front of everyone.”
“Christ, you’ve lost your marbles,” Bucky smiles, kissing him on the chin before he jumps back down onto his own feet. “You’ve really cracked up. I knew this day would come, I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”
“And if anyone has anything to say about it,” Steve shouts, doing his best to avoid Bucky’s hand covering his mouth, “Fuck ‘em! Because I’m Captain-“
Bucky knocks Steve to the ground, laughing and pushing his hand over his mouth, digging his fingers into his sides.
“You’re an idiot. An honest-to-god idiot.”
Steve pushes Bucky up and sits him in his lap, his chest heaving while he tries to catch his breath.
“You make me feel like an asthmatic all over again.”
“Oh, baby, keep talking dirty,” Bucky deadpans.
“Serious,” Steve says, kissing him again. “Come back with me.” He gets his hands around Bucky’s waist. “You won’t have to worry about a goddamn thing.”
The wind rolls through again and Bucky’s feet are flat on the ground, and his hands are anchored on Steve’s chest, right over his heart.
“Okay,” he says, and smiles. “Okay, Cap.”