Steve woke up to soft golden sunlight spilling through his window, and Bucky in his bed. “What?” he asked, eloquently.
Bucky grinned at him, though the expression was more a show of teeth than one of happiness. “You said tomorrow,” he explained. “It’s tomorrow.”
Steve realized a few seconds later that Bucky was naked.
“Don’t you want to have breakfast first?” he asked.
He was finding it extremely difficult to think with a freshly showered, naked Bucky hovering over him.
“No,” Bucky said. “I want you to fuck me.”
And fuck if those words didn’t go right to Steve’s dick.
“I always went into cryo naked,” Bucky said, cutting off any attempt Steve was making at words of his own. “Sometimes when they pulled me out, they’d have a little fun before I was fully thawed out. Move my limbs wherever they wanted them, and I couldn’t do anything because I couldn’t move myself yet. I think it mighta been Rollins who started it. He and Rumlow used to make bets about what they could do to me.”
That statement just sent a burning rage through Steve. What he wouldn’t give to have both of those back-stabbing bastards where he could make them pay for what they’d done to Bucky. He sat up with a growl, and Bucky flopped down on the bed, right across where Steve’s upper body had been.
“Now it’s your turn to put me right where you want me,” Bucky said, refusing now to meet Steve’s eyes when Steve snapped around to look at him. “Though I’ll understand if you just want me to cover up and get out of your sight.”
Steve could hardly breathe. Bucky’s body, bound with hard muscle and covered in a patchwork of scars, was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen. He wanted to trace each one of those scars and promise Bucky that he would never hurt again. He wanted to sketch every line of Bucky’s body. He wanted to show Bucky exactly what he thought of the body laid out before him. If Bucky thought Steve was going to tell him he was gross and undesirable, then Bucky was very much mistaken.
“You sure you want me to do this?” Steve asked, adding for clarification, “You want me to do the – the things you’re telling me about?”
Bucky huffed out a breath. “Only if think you can stand to touch me,” he said.
That was hardly the enthusiastic yes that Sam would have probably told him to ask for, but Steve had a feeling it was the best he was going to get. He also had a feeling that if he turned Bucky down, Bucky would take it as eternal proof that Steve didn’t want him. As though Steve wasn’t so attracted to his best friend that the sight of Bucky naked and stretched across his bed made him feel like what little brains he had had gone on vacation to the other side of the world, taking his lungs with them.
Steve reached out a hand to gently caress Bucky’s leg, and Bucky pressed into the touch. “Come on Steve, you’re supposed to move me where you want me,” he said. A slightly more mischievous grin took over his face as he looked at a point over Steve’s shoulder. “Some of them really liked fucking me while I still had frost in my hair and ice in my eyelashes. I figured you’d never spring for sticking me in cryo for a bit, so I brought the ice with me.” He stretched out his left leg to poke at a large plastic mixing bowl with his toes, that Steve finally noticed sitting on his nightstand.
When he was able to tear his eyes away from the view that Bucky’s spread legs gave him, he saw that chips of ice filled the mixing bowl right to the brim.
Fucking ice.
Steve hated ice.
“They didn’t just stare at me, Steve,” Bucky said, pulling Steve’s attention back. Bucky was spread out diagonally across the rumpled cotton sheets, his head resting just below Steve’s pillow. His legs were still splayed open, giving Steve an unobstructed view of his half hard cock hanging between his legs.
Steve licked his lips. He reminded himself to be gentle.
He shifted Bucky’s right leg up slowly on the bed, admiring the way the muscles contracted and shifted beneath tan skin. The left leg moved just as easily, and Steve settled on his knees between Bucky’s spread thighs. Sam wouldn’t even need to kill him for this. The way his heart was nearly beating out his chest, sending all of his blood between his legs instead of to his brain, would do the job just fine.
“Close your eyes,” he said, a little bit disconcerted by the way Bucky wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. He knew he’d made the right choice when some of the tenseness he’d hardly registered in Bucky’s muscles melted away.
“I was so cold when I woke up that every touch felt like fire,” Bucky said, while Steve ran his fingers gently up and down Bucky’s thighs. He wanted to press, to mark Bucky as his, but Bucky was leading this show. “I could hardly feel any pressure, I was so cold, but I could feel their heat. They wouldn’t touch my dick, though. Said it was gross,” Bucky continued. Steve jerked his hand away from where it had been about to do just that, running it back down Bucky’s thigh instead.
“I’m not cold yet, Steve.” A hint of reproach laced the words. “They never let me lay around long enough to really get warm.”
Steve shuddered, his erection flagging as he looked over to the orange plastic mixing bowl. He wanted Bucky warm, but more than that he wanted Bucky happy. The complete lack of arousal he felt towards the ice almost made it easier. Fear was much less complicated than desire.
The first touch of ice against Steve’s fingers punched a shallow breath from his lungs.
It wasn’t safe, wasn’t ok, everything was ice and snow and wet and cold.
Steve shook off the flash of memory and plunged his hand fully into the bowl. He was doing this for Bucky, he reminded himself, grabbing a handful of ice and removing it.
He ran the ice filled hand through Bucky’s hair, then gently lay a chip of ice on each of Bucky’s closed eyelids. Bucky shivered at each touch. Steve shivered as well, feeling his erection flag even more at the site of Bucky with a halo of ice chips.
He’d be damned if he backed out on Bucky now, though.
He reached for another handful of ice without looking, and left a trail of it from the hollow of Bucky’s throat to the dip of his navel. Bucky arched off the bed, and Steve traced his collarbones with frozen fingertips. Both of them were still only half hard, but Bucky seemed to be enjoying himself, and Steve’s body was working its way back to full arousal with each twitch and moan from Bucky.
When Steve ran his cold hands down Bucky’s chest, Bucky’s breath hitched. “One of them, I can’t remember his name, liked to touch my nipples really gently,” Bucky whispered. “I’m very sensitive there, you see.” A wry twist of Bucky’s mouth preceded the next bit of information. “He liked to laugh about how hard they got, and how cold they were.” Steve ran the tips of his fingers over Bucky’s nipples. True to Bucky’s word, they hardened almost immediately at the feather-light touch. Steve ran his fingers over them again, a little bit harder. Heat pooled in his belly, and he tried it again.
A hiss escaped Bucky, before he continued talking. “Said if he wasn’t careful, they might just shatter, and then I’d have to live without ‘em. Woulda been such a shame, when I liked having ‘em touched so much.”
“Yeah?” Steve said, his own voice surprisingly hoarse. Bucky’s body was mesmerizing, the way it reacted to even Steve’s gentlest touches. His cock had taken interest in the proceedings again, and he didn’t stop to think before asking, “Can I pinch them?”
The reaction was immediate. Bucky’s eyes shot open at the same time he said, “No!” His breaths grew shallow with obvious fear, and Steve moved back so quickly he fell off the bed.
When he sat up on his knees to apologize, the words stuck in his throat. Bucky had squeezed his eyes back shut, and his flesh hand had a death grip on the sheets. A few moments later, the soft sound of, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” penetrated the panicked ringing in his ears.
“Bucky,” he said, reaching out a hand and stopping just shy of Bucky’s left knee. “You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for,” he said, flinching when Bucky shook his head the tinniest fraction.
“It’s ok,” Bucky said, trying and very obviously failing to hit a carefree note. His eyes were still squeezed tightly shut. “Some of them liked to be rougher. I can change the script. You don’t gotta stop touching.”
“Bucky, look at me,” Steve began, but Bucky shook his head more emphatically this time.
“Don’t wanna,” he said, turning his head away from Steve’s voice as though to emphasize the words.
Steve swallowed down a few false starts. “Okay,” he finally said. “You don’t have to look at me if you don’t want to. But Bucky, if you say no, I’m gonna stop. I don’t care what those fucking HYDRA bastards did to you, I’m not going to keep going and just let you change the script if you don’t want to do something.”
Bucky stayed quiet for almost a minute. Steve spent the entire time trying to think of how he could get across to Bucky how much he meant every word he said.
Finally, Bucky squinted open one eye, tilting his head just enough to look at Steve through his still wet lashes.
“Pierce used to tell me I was being ungrateful if I said no,” Bucky said. The words were so quiet Steve wouldn’t have heard them if not for his serum enhanced hearing.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, making his voice as firm as possible as he met Bucky’s gaze and said, “First of all, I am not Pierce. Second of all, you got every right in the world to be as ungrateful as you want to that – that HYDRA scum. Because third of all, no one has any right to do something to you that you didn’t ask for.”
Both of Bucky’s eyes had crept open during Steve’s small speech, and Steve couldn’t decipher the look on his face. It made him uncomfortable, how many expressions Bucky had now that Steve couldn’t read at all. So, he kept talking.
“I think you’re ridiculously beautiful, and I’d happily spend the whole day proving how much I want to touch you, Bucky,” he said. “But I’m not going to do anything you don’t want. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you.” He was ashamed of the way the last sentence trailed off. For all he knew, he’d already hurt Bucky as soon as he accepted that blowjob in his kitchen. For all he knew, this was some twisted punishment from God for the things he used to think about doing to Bucky, no matter how hard he tried to suppress those thoughts.
Bucky’s raspy voice brought him out of his self-flagellation. “Prove you want to touch me?” he asked.
Steve laid his hand on Bucky’s knee as gently as he would if Bucky were made of spun sugar and eggshells. “Can I just hold you for a while?” Steve asked. He was still hard as a rock with Bucky spread out naked for him, limbs still just as Steve had placed them and melted ice dripping down his sides. The thought of doing something about his erection at the moment, however, was almost enough to make it go away.
Bucky stared at him for another minute. His half closed eyes flicked between Steve’s hand on his knee and Steve’s face, and Steve did at least know his friend well enough to know that Bucky was making a decision.
Finally, Bucky rolled over, curling into a ball on one side of the bed. “Blackwell used to hold me sometimes,” he said into the pillow, closing his eyes again. “Used to tell me he’d keep me safe from the others if I begged real pretty for him to fuck me. He got his head blown off during a mission in Belarus. I never knew how to beg right, so he never actually fucked me. At least, not alone.” Steve silently told his erection that it could go fuck itself if it was going to insist on being interested in that story of all things.
One of Bucky’s eyes cracked open again when Steve didn’t move, and Bucky’s mouth turned down in a frown. “If you don’t want to hold me now, you don’t have to,” Bucky said.
“No,” Steve said, recognizing the challenge and clambering onto the bed. “I mean, yes. I do still want to hold you.” He did his best to banish the image of some HYDRA scumbag holding Bucky and whispering filth in his ear while pretending to be kind. Worked even harder to banish any thoughts about what sort of things he could whisper in Bucky’s ear from this position.
Instead, he wrapped his arms around Bucky and buried his nose in Bucky’s hair, and kept his mouth firmly shut.
An Inch of Rope [2b/7ish]
Bucky grinned at him, though the expression was more a show of teeth than one of happiness. “You said tomorrow,” he explained. “It’s tomorrow.”
Steve realized a few seconds later that Bucky was naked.
“Don’t you want to have breakfast first?” he asked.
He was finding it extremely difficult to think with a freshly showered, naked Bucky hovering over him.
“No,” Bucky said. “I want you to fuck me.”
And fuck if those words didn’t go right to Steve’s dick.
“I always went into cryo naked,” Bucky said, cutting off any attempt Steve was making at words of his own. “Sometimes when they pulled me out, they’d have a little fun before I was fully thawed out. Move my limbs wherever they wanted them, and I couldn’t do anything because I couldn’t move myself yet. I think it mighta been Rollins who started it. He and Rumlow used to make bets about what they could do to me.”
That statement just sent a burning rage through Steve. What he wouldn’t give to have both of those back-stabbing bastards where he could make them pay for what they’d done to Bucky. He sat up with a growl, and Bucky flopped down on the bed, right across where Steve’s upper body had been.
“Now it’s your turn to put me right where you want me,” Bucky said, refusing now to meet Steve’s eyes when Steve snapped around to look at him. “Though I’ll understand if you just want me to cover up and get out of your sight.”
Steve could hardly breathe. Bucky’s body, bound with hard muscle and covered in a patchwork of scars, was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen. He wanted to trace each one of those scars and promise Bucky that he would never hurt again. He wanted to sketch every line of Bucky’s body. He wanted to show Bucky exactly what he thought of the body laid out before him. If Bucky thought Steve was going to tell him he was gross and undesirable, then Bucky was very much mistaken.
“You sure you want me to do this?” Steve asked, adding for clarification, “You want me to do the – the things you’re telling me about?”
Bucky huffed out a breath. “Only if think you can stand to touch me,” he said.
That was hardly the enthusiastic yes that Sam would have probably told him to ask for, but Steve had a feeling it was the best he was going to get. He also had a feeling that if he turned Bucky down, Bucky would take it as eternal proof that Steve didn’t want him. As though Steve wasn’t so attracted to his best friend that the sight of Bucky naked and stretched across his bed made him feel like what little brains he had had gone on vacation to the other side of the world, taking his lungs with them.
Steve reached out a hand to gently caress Bucky’s leg, and Bucky pressed into the touch. “Come on Steve, you’re supposed to move me where you want me,” he said. A slightly more mischievous grin took over his face as he looked at a point over Steve’s shoulder. “Some of them really liked fucking me while I still had frost in my hair and ice in my eyelashes. I figured you’d never spring for sticking me in cryo for a bit, so I brought the ice with me.” He stretched out his left leg to poke at a large plastic mixing bowl with his toes, that Steve finally noticed sitting on his nightstand.
When he was able to tear his eyes away from the view that Bucky’s spread legs gave him, he saw that chips of ice filled the mixing bowl right to the brim.
Fucking ice.
Steve hated ice.
“They didn’t just stare at me, Steve,” Bucky said, pulling Steve’s attention back. Bucky was spread out diagonally across the rumpled cotton sheets, his head resting just below Steve’s pillow. His legs were still splayed open, giving Steve an unobstructed view of his half hard cock hanging between his legs.
Steve licked his lips. He reminded himself to be gentle.
He shifted Bucky’s right leg up slowly on the bed, admiring the way the muscles contracted and shifted beneath tan skin. The left leg moved just as easily, and Steve settled on his knees between Bucky’s spread thighs. Sam wouldn’t even need to kill him for this. The way his heart was nearly beating out his chest, sending all of his blood between his legs instead of to his brain, would do the job just fine.
“Close your eyes,” he said, a little bit disconcerted by the way Bucky wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. He knew he’d made the right choice when some of the tenseness he’d hardly registered in Bucky’s muscles melted away.
“I was so cold when I woke up that every touch felt like fire,” Bucky said, while Steve ran his fingers gently up and down Bucky’s thighs. He wanted to press, to mark Bucky as his, but Bucky was leading this show. “I could hardly feel any pressure, I was so cold, but I could feel their heat. They wouldn’t touch my dick, though. Said it was gross,” Bucky continued. Steve jerked his hand away from where it had been about to do just that, running it back down Bucky’s thigh instead.
“I’m not cold yet, Steve.” A hint of reproach laced the words. “They never let me lay around long enough to really get warm.”
Steve shuddered, his erection flagging as he looked over to the orange plastic mixing bowl. He wanted Bucky warm, but more than that he wanted Bucky happy. The complete lack of arousal he felt towards the ice almost made it easier. Fear was much less complicated than desire.
The first touch of ice against Steve’s fingers punched a shallow breath from his lungs.
It wasn’t safe, wasn’t ok, everything was ice and snow and wet and cold.
Steve shook off the flash of memory and plunged his hand fully into the bowl. He was doing this for Bucky, he reminded himself, grabbing a handful of ice and removing it.
He ran the ice filled hand through Bucky’s hair, then gently lay a chip of ice on each of Bucky’s closed eyelids. Bucky shivered at each touch. Steve shivered as well, feeling his erection flag even more at the site of Bucky with a halo of ice chips.
He’d be damned if he backed out on Bucky now, though.
He reached for another handful of ice without looking, and left a trail of it from the hollow of Bucky’s throat to the dip of his navel. Bucky arched off the bed, and Steve traced his collarbones with frozen fingertips. Both of them were still only half hard, but Bucky seemed to be enjoying himself, and Steve’s body was working its way back to full arousal with each twitch and moan from Bucky.
When Steve ran his cold hands down Bucky’s chest, Bucky’s breath hitched. “One of them, I can’t remember his name, liked to touch my nipples really gently,” Bucky whispered. “I’m very sensitive there, you see.” A wry twist of Bucky’s mouth preceded the next bit of information. “He liked to laugh about how hard they got, and how cold they were.” Steve ran the tips of his fingers over Bucky’s nipples. True to Bucky’s word, they hardened almost immediately at the feather-light touch. Steve ran his fingers over them again, a little bit harder. Heat pooled in his belly, and he tried it again.
A hiss escaped Bucky, before he continued talking. “Said if he wasn’t careful, they might just shatter, and then I’d have to live without ‘em. Woulda been such a shame, when I liked having ‘em touched so much.”
“Yeah?” Steve said, his own voice surprisingly hoarse. Bucky’s body was mesmerizing, the way it reacted to even Steve’s gentlest touches. His cock had taken interest in the proceedings again, and he didn’t stop to think before asking, “Can I pinch them?”
The reaction was immediate. Bucky’s eyes shot open at the same time he said, “No!” His breaths grew shallow with obvious fear, and Steve moved back so quickly he fell off the bed.
When he sat up on his knees to apologize, the words stuck in his throat. Bucky had squeezed his eyes back shut, and his flesh hand had a death grip on the sheets. A few moments later, the soft sound of, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” penetrated the panicked ringing in his ears.
“Bucky,” he said, reaching out a hand and stopping just shy of Bucky’s left knee. “You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for,” he said, flinching when Bucky shook his head the tinniest fraction.
“It’s ok,” Bucky said, trying and very obviously failing to hit a carefree note. His eyes were still squeezed tightly shut. “Some of them liked to be rougher. I can change the script. You don’t gotta stop touching.”
“Bucky, look at me,” Steve began, but Bucky shook his head more emphatically this time.
“Don’t wanna,” he said, turning his head away from Steve’s voice as though to emphasize the words.
Steve swallowed down a few false starts. “Okay,” he finally said. “You don’t have to look at me if you don’t want to. But Bucky, if you say no, I’m gonna stop. I don’t care what those fucking HYDRA bastards did to you, I’m not going to keep going and just let you change the script if you don’t want to do something.”
Bucky stayed quiet for almost a minute. Steve spent the entire time trying to think of how he could get across to Bucky how much he meant every word he said.
Finally, Bucky squinted open one eye, tilting his head just enough to look at Steve through his still wet lashes.
“Pierce used to tell me I was being ungrateful if I said no,” Bucky said. The words were so quiet Steve wouldn’t have heard them if not for his serum enhanced hearing.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, making his voice as firm as possible as he met Bucky’s gaze and said, “First of all, I am not Pierce. Second of all, you got every right in the world to be as ungrateful as you want to that – that HYDRA scum. Because third of all, no one has any right to do something to you that you didn’t ask for.”
Both of Bucky’s eyes had crept open during Steve’s small speech, and Steve couldn’t decipher the look on his face. It made him uncomfortable, how many expressions Bucky had now that Steve couldn’t read at all. So, he kept talking.
“I think you’re ridiculously beautiful, and I’d happily spend the whole day proving how much I want to touch you, Bucky,” he said. “But I’m not going to do anything you don’t want. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you.” He was ashamed of the way the last sentence trailed off. For all he knew, he’d already hurt Bucky as soon as he accepted that blowjob in his kitchen. For all he knew, this was some twisted punishment from God for the things he used to think about doing to Bucky, no matter how hard he tried to suppress those thoughts.
Bucky’s raspy voice brought him out of his self-flagellation. “Prove you want to touch me?” he asked.
Steve laid his hand on Bucky’s knee as gently as he would if Bucky were made of spun sugar and eggshells. “Can I just hold you for a while?” Steve asked. He was still hard as a rock with Bucky spread out naked for him, limbs still just as Steve had placed them and melted ice dripping down his sides. The thought of doing something about his erection at the moment, however, was almost enough to make it go away.
Bucky stared at him for another minute. His half closed eyes flicked between Steve’s hand on his knee and Steve’s face, and Steve did at least know his friend well enough to know that Bucky was making a decision.
Finally, Bucky rolled over, curling into a ball on one side of the bed. “Blackwell used to hold me sometimes,” he said into the pillow, closing his eyes again. “Used to tell me he’d keep me safe from the others if I begged real pretty for him to fuck me. He got his head blown off during a mission in Belarus. I never knew how to beg right, so he never actually fucked me. At least, not alone.” Steve silently told his erection that it could go fuck itself if it was going to insist on being interested in that story of all things.
One of Bucky’s eyes cracked open again when Steve didn’t move, and Bucky’s mouth turned down in a frown. “If you don’t want to hold me now, you don’t have to,” Bucky said.
“No,” Steve said, recognizing the challenge and clambering onto the bed. “I mean, yes. I do still want to hold you.” He did his best to banish the image of some HYDRA scumbag holding Bucky and whispering filth in his ear while pretending to be kind. Worked even harder to banish any thoughts about what sort of things he could whisper in Bucky’s ear from this position.
Instead, he wrapped his arms around Bucky and buried his nose in Bucky’s hair, and kept his mouth firmly shut.