hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Holy shitballs, look at us go. Welcome to Captain America fandom's resident wretched hive of scum and villainy: ROUND THREE. AKA Bad Guys Do Dirtybadwrong Things To Your Faves, AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. As usual, BLANKET NON-CON AND NSFW WARNINGS apply: just assume going in that everything in this landfill is unfit for human consumption.

Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.

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Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It evolved so gradually that Steve barely noticed.

They'd never been like this before the war. Steve knew what people would have assumed if they'd known about him and Bucky, but it wasn't true; they'd argued and teased and sniped at each other just as much in the bedroom as any other time, and as far as the physical stuff was concerned, who was on top was mostly determined by whether Steve's circulation was cooperating in letting him get hard enough. Steve being a head shorter and less than half Bucky's weight hadn't mattered to either of them.

Once they were in Europe, in the field Bucky did what Steve said but otherwise nothing had changed, except that they had even less privacy and they never had to stop because of Steve's lungs seizing up on him. German sneak attack, yes; asthma attack, no.

But after...well, it started because Steve couldn’t bear to take any more choices away from Bucky. He got into the habit of deferring on the little things—pizza toppings, what movie to go see. He’d state his preference and let Bucky make the decision, and if it turned out not to be what Steve wanted, there was nothing stopping him from going to see that movie some other time and occasionally he did. Bucky picked up on what he was doing pretty quickly, but he never commented on it besides ordering fifteen pizzas in a row with anchovies and onions, just to see what it would take to make Steve complain.

The ‘Sergeant’ thing was a little harder to explain—Jarvis called Bucky Sergeant Barnes, which might have been part of it. (Steve regularly thanked his lucky stars for the amount of help Tony had decided to offer; God knew the man would have been perfectly justified in any amount of hostility short of actively trying to kill them both.) But it also didn’t hurt that Steve got tired of being Captain America sometimes; it was nice to have someone else call the shots when they weren’t in the field. He still said Bucky most of the time, but occasionally he’d say Sarge instead and then Bucky would give him a pair of boots to shine or a rifle to clean and Steve would spend a few minutes doing something he didn’t have to make any decisions about. It was soothing.

So it sort of made sense to let the whole thing carry over, if only because Steve didn’t want to think about what it meant that Bucky would flinch if Steve moved too fast when they were making time. If he just followed Bucky’s lead, there wasn’t nearly as much flinching.

And that was where it stood the night things changed.

Steve knew Bucky’d been tense. He’d been building up to a bad mood for a few days, and of the two easiest options for stress relief—go break things in the gym or have sex—Steve was more in the mood for the one that didn’t involve leaving their apartment. When Steve grabbed his hand as he went past on the way back from the kitchen, Bucky laughed and swung Steve into the wall, crowding him against it. “How long you think it’ll take for me to make you beg for it?” He was already unbuckling Steve's belt.

“In your dreams,” Steve said, running his hands up Bucky’s sides, rucking up his shirt. He knew a challenge when he heard one.

“Been having some good dreams lately,” Bucky said, his voice dropping enough to make Steve shiver. He made short work of Steve’s pants and shoved his right hand unceremoniously into Steve’s shorts. “You’re all revved up already. Not gonna take long.”

Neither of them tended to have much of a problem getting hard these days, which was a serum side-effect Steve kind of doubted Doctor Erskine had thought much about. He spread his hands out over Bucky’s shoulderblades and canted his hips forward. “Big talk, Barnes. Put your money where your mouth is.”

Bucky smirked at him. From this distance the effect was devastating. “Good idea.” He slid down through Steve’s hands and somehow by the time he was on his knees, Steve’s shorts were pushed out of the way too. It occurred to Steve that he might have spoken too soon; Bucky had always been good with his mouth in more ways than just talking.

Bucky was capable of what Steve had thought of as ‘zero to sixty’ since the first time he’d heard the phrase, but Steve had a feeling he was in for the other kind of blowjob this evening, the kind where everything took forever and he ramped up so slowly he almost didn’t notice until the climax hit him over the head. And that did tend to reduce him to begging pretty quickly. Steve clenched his teeth as Bucky leaned forward. He didn’t take Steve’s cock into his mouth right away, instead running his parted lips down the side, slowly. Steve forced down his whine and squeezed his eyes shut. If he looked, he was going to break with embarrassing speed.

Steve concentrated on not making noise as Bucky took his sweet time, and that was what caused it. He was working so hard on being quiet that he forgot he shouldn’t let his hands rest on Bucky’s head, and he was so engrossed that he didn’t feel the way Bucky tensed when he did it, and when Bucky tried to draw back for a second to tease him Steve’s fingers tightened in his hair.

Something grabbed Steve’s ankle and yanked; distracted and hobbled by his pants he couldn’t catch himself, and by the time he figured out what the hell was going on he was on his face on the floor with Bucky holding his arms twisted uncomfortably behind his back. They stayed there, both of them breathing hard, for about two seconds before Steve got enough breath together to say, “Bucky?”

“Shit!” Bucky leaped off him like he was red-hot, scrambling away out of arm’s reach. “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry!” His voice didn't match his face, the blank expression that Steve hated, the one that said he was bracing himself to be punished.

“Uh,” Steve said slowly. “I don’t think you need to be sorry, Buck.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky’s expression cracked the least bit.

Steve thought about it, about knowing that unless he felt like dislocating something he couldn’t move without Bucky’s permission. “I think I kinda liked it.” He crossed his arms on the floor in front of him but didn’t otherwise move. His cock throbbed against the carpet.

Bucky blinked and his face melted into surprise, and then skepticism. “Are you...you better not just be tryin’ to make me feel better, Rogers.”

Steve rolled his eyes and said, “Trust me. I can prove it.”

Bucky’s eyebrows went up. “Oh yeah? Turn over.”

Steve did, propping himself up on his elbows. Sure enough, his hardon was still just as hard. Bucky’s eyes raked over him and Steve did his best not to squirm under the appraisal.

“Huh,” Bucky said at last. He rolled forward onto his knees and stalked across the few feet between them. Steve didn’t move until Bucky was looming over him. He put his metal hand on Steve’s neck and pushed, and Steve went with it until he was lying flat again. Bucky took Steve’s right hand and pressed it into the floor next to his head, then his left, and said, “This time you don’t move until I tell you to, got it?”

Steve lost all his air and had to pull it back in to say, “Yeah. Yes. Sir.”

Bucky’s eyes went dark and his lips curved into a smile. “Good,” he said.

You're a star.

OP

HNNNNNGH. This is EXACTLY what I wanted. The banter and the mutual respect under all the fun-with-power-games, and then this line--

He put his metal hand on Steve’s neck and pushed, and Steve went with it until he was lying flat again.

I may have made an embarrassing squeaking noise out loud when I read that. Mmmmmmm.

a!a

Yeah, I may kind of have a bit of a thing for the metal arm? Just a bit?

This is so damn hot.

This is so good that waiting for the next one will be torture.

UNF

I love the beautiful setup with the mentions of their dynamic across the years and outside of sex. Yum.

Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

FILL: And Bend Your Stubborn Knee, 1/?

Re: FILL: And Bend Your Stubborn Knee, 1/?

Re: FILL: And Bend Your Stubborn Knee, 1/?

Re: FILL: And Bend Your Stubborn Knee, 1/?

Re: FILL: And Bend Your Stubborn Knee, 1/?

Re: FILL: And Bend Your Stubborn Knee, 1/?

Re: FILL: And Bend Your Stubborn Knee, 1/?