I promise this is the last of the really depressing chapters! Thank you for all your comments!
“Are you sure?”
Steve knew they’d had this conversation about eight times today alone. But he had to be certain. Had to…
Bucky knelt up, to catch his mouth, rubbing circles into the side of his jaw. “I want you.”
“I know, but I just-“
“Stevie.”
Steve shut up, let Bucky keep kissing him. He eventually sat back, looking flushed and perfect. He cupped the back of Steve’s neck with both hands.
“I’m certain, ok?”
“It’s just it’s getting late.”
It was past midnight. The day had been much busier than they’d anticipated. They’d had to stay late for urgent meetings, which had turned out to be not so urgent after all, and then had called at the all-night diner for burgers with Nat and Clint.
So all in all Steve was regretting his promise to Bucky that morning. Steve stroked over Bucky’s hip, trying to think of a way to pacify him.
“We’re both tired and-“
“What is it? You only want me during daylight hours, Rogers?” Bucky leaned back in, started nosing underneath his jaw. “S been too long, Stevie.”
He could hear the hurt behind it, and felt like a massive piece of shit.
“Alright.”
Bucky hummed into his neck. “Could use a little bit more enthusiasm there.”
Steve brought a hand up to lift Bucky’s chin up. “Take your jeans off.”
Bucky smirked, started shucking his clothes. “Never could resist your army voice. Now,” Steve felt his hand slip to his waistband, “you need a hand there?”
“You know- Bucky!”
Steve lost track of his words as Bucky slipped his hand inside. “I know, darlin, I got you.”
Steve forced himself to relax, let Bucky work him up. But then Bucky had always been good at that, getting him out of his own head.
By the time Bucky started kitten licking down his chest, he couldn’t believe he’d held out so long. He pulled him up so he could kiss him properly. “Lay on your back.”
A faint smirk pulled at Bucky’s lip. “I dunno, if you’re too tired…”
Steve tackled him back onto the bed.
The next few minutes were all hands and mouths and Bucky giggling and calling “Foul ball, Rogers!”.
They came to a stop, panting and laughing, Bucky grinning as he looked up at him. “Go on.”
Steve smiled and made a stretch for the bottle on the side, slicked up his fingers. He worked his way inside Bucky, Bucky relaxing to take him easily.
But now he knew about it, he couldn’t miss the intake of breath, the way the muscles tightened in his jaw.
“Buck..?”
“Keep goin.”
Bucky’s response was tight lipped, grimaced. And for the first time Steve understood. Why Bucky was so quiet, when the rest of the time you could barely shut him up.
It was to keep up the pretence. The lie that everything was fine.
Because he felt he had to lie to him.
He faltered, half pulled his fingers out, earned a dismayed grunt. “Stevie.”
“Sorry.”
He tried again. Trying to find his mark inside Bucky.
To be honest, he was flagging, and the thought of pushing inside Bucky, while he was fisting into the sheets, biting himself bloody, just to get through it?
It was too much.
Holy Christ, he’d made him cry last time. Sobbing into the fucking sheets. While he just pounded into him, like…
It was too much like…
Well, that put paid to any chance of any of that tonight. His half hard dick was giving up the ghost entirely.
He redoubled his efforts, trying to get Bucky off so they could at least end this without an argument and go to bed…
…But Bucky didn’t get off on it.
He’d confessed, once, the only time Steve had managed to get him to talk about any of it, that even the pressure of Steve’s finger was unbearable. So all this was just…
Steve sat back.
Bucky opened his eyes, lips bitten red raw with the effort of keeping from crying out.
Steve felt sick.
“Stevie?” Bucky looked confused.
“I can’t, Buck.”
There it was again, that flicker of hurt above something else, something harder, too fleeting to catch. Bucky sat up, dragged the sheet over himself and pulled his knees up to his chin.
And Steve felt awful.
He dropped a hand onto Bucky’s arm. “I’m sorry.”
Bucky pulled away, ducked his face into the crook off his elbow, said something Steve couldn’t make out.
“I don’t wanna hurt you, Buck.”
Bucky snapped up, all sudden anger. “Why not? Everybody else did. What makes you so fucking special?”
Steve could see in an instant Bucky wished he could take it back, so he very, very purposefully let it go.
He reached out again, and this time Bucky let him. “You gotta talk to me. Please. We gotta talk about this.”
“You wanna talk? How about we talk about the fact that you’ve barely touched me in three weeks?”
Bucky’s eyes were looking distinctly wet.
“Buck-“
“Don’t do that. Don’t say ‘Buck’ like you can shut me up.” Bucky pulled back again. “Three weeks, Steve. Used goods, is that it?”
“Stop!”
The worst thing is that it was so absolutely ‘Bucky’, that it made Steve’s heart ache. Bucky had always had a wicked tongue on him when he was upset. He crafted words like barbs, until they lodged in your gut and speared you right through.
“Stop,” Steve said again, calmer this time. “Stop twistin what I’m saying.”
Bucky just ducked his head again, looking utterly defeated. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”
“It’s not that, Buck. I swear. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand hurting you. Maybe… Maybe we could try it the other way round.”
“I can’t.” Bucky spoke into his knees.
“But maybe we could-“
Bucky looked up. “Look, I can’t, ok? I can’t do it, and it’s embarrassing. That enough sharin for you?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
At least Bucky was letting him touch him now, letting him rub circles into the back of his hand with his thumb.
Steve sighed. “It just feels too much like… Like…” He couldn’t finish.
“But it ain’t. It ain’t like that at all.” Bucky uncurled himself from where he was huddled, all earnestness. “I want you. I want you so bad, Stevie. It ain’t too late,” Steve felt his hand on his waist, was already shaking his head, even as Bucky was moving forward, “maybe we could-“
Steve pulled back. “No. Not tonight.”
“I promise you, I ain’t lying.” Bucky tugged his hand up and kissed it. “I want it, Stevie. I want you.”
Steve snatched his hand back. “Well, I don’t.”
Bucky’s face instantly went cold. “Fine.”
He snatched up one of the pillows, and stalked out, leaving Steve staring at the door as it slammed closed behind him.
He punched the mattress. Did it again for good measure, and again, until the springs squealed. He wanted rip the room apart, smash it to matchsticks, and tear himself apart with it.
He was so angry. An icy rage settled deep in his gut. He wanted to rip it all down around his ears.
He wanted to march into the other room, pick Bucky up and shake him. For refusing to discuss anything. For shooting down all of Steve’s attempts at compromise. For making everything so much fucking harder…
And then he hated himself for that. Because Bucky didn’t owe anyone a damn thing. Certainly not him.
All he’d ever done was let him down for a whole goddamn lifetime and even now, he just couldn’t stop fucking up.
He hated Hydra and everything they’d taken from them. He hated that they’d both fought and died for nothing at all. He hated that even now it wasn’t over. It was just one thing after another, and it never fucking ended.
But more than that, and most of all, he hated the entire goddamn universe that had decided this was what they got.
Neither of them had done anything to deserve any of this. Not a thing.
Steve was tired.
He was so, so achingly tired of fighting.
He pushed himself off the bed and wandered into the bathroom. Splashed some water into his face from the sink.
He stood up, watched the droplets running off his reflection and had the sudden urge the drag the mirror from the wall. To shatter it against the porcelain.
He didn’t.
He reached up instead to unhook it and took it to rest on the floor inside their closet. He shut the door on it with a click.
Bucky was laid on the sofa when he went to find him, watching some teleshopping thing with the sound down low. Steve could just about make out the frown on Bucky’s face, half hidden by his hair.
On the TV, the names of people who’d bought the limited edition items were scrolling across the bottom of the screen, while a couple with plastic smiles were gesticulating enthusiastically over some electrical appliance.
Steve watched in silence for a couple of minutes, wondering what had happened to babyjewel57 from Lafayette, Indiana, that meant she was buying a fake ruby ring at three in the morning.
He flicked his attention back to Bucky who was resolutely not reacting to his presence.
“Are you coming back to bed?”
Bucky didn’t look up. “No.”
Steve turned back into the room. Just as he was closing the door, he heard Bucky’s sigh. “It’s not fair.”
Re: Collateral [4/6]
“Are you sure?”
Steve knew they’d had this conversation about eight times today alone. But he had to be certain. Had to…
Bucky knelt up, to catch his mouth, rubbing circles into the side of his jaw. “I want you.”
“I know, but I just-“
“Stevie.”
Steve shut up, let Bucky keep kissing him. He eventually sat back, looking flushed and perfect. He cupped the back of Steve’s neck with both hands.
“I’m certain, ok?”
“It’s just it’s getting late.”
It was past midnight. The day had been much busier than they’d anticipated. They’d had to stay late for urgent meetings, which had turned out to be not so urgent after all, and then had called at the all-night diner for burgers with Nat and Clint.
So all in all Steve was regretting his promise to Bucky that morning.
Steve stroked over Bucky’s hip, trying to think of a way to pacify him.
“We’re both tired and-“
“What is it? You only want me during daylight hours, Rogers?” Bucky leaned back in, started nosing underneath his jaw. “S been too long, Stevie.”
He could hear the hurt behind it, and felt like a massive piece of shit.
“Alright.”
Bucky hummed into his neck. “Could use a little bit more enthusiasm there.”
Steve brought a hand up to lift Bucky’s chin up. “Take your jeans off.”
Bucky smirked, started shucking his clothes. “Never could resist your army voice. Now,” Steve felt his hand slip to his waistband, “you need a hand there?”
“You know- Bucky!”
Steve lost track of his words as Bucky slipped his hand inside. “I know, darlin, I got you.”
Steve forced himself to relax, let Bucky work him up. But then Bucky had always been good at that, getting him out of his own head.
By the time Bucky started kitten licking down his chest, he couldn’t believe he’d held out so long. He pulled him up so he could kiss him properly. “Lay on your back.”
A faint smirk pulled at Bucky’s lip. “I dunno, if you’re too tired…”
Steve tackled him back onto the bed.
The next few minutes were all hands and mouths and Bucky giggling and calling “Foul ball, Rogers!”.
They came to a stop, panting and laughing, Bucky grinning as he looked up at him. “Go on.”
Steve smiled and made a stretch for the bottle on the side, slicked up his fingers. He worked his way inside Bucky, Bucky relaxing to take him easily.
But now he knew about it, he couldn’t miss the intake of breath, the way the muscles tightened in his jaw.
“Buck..?”
“Keep goin.”
Bucky’s response was tight lipped, grimaced. And for the first time Steve understood. Why Bucky was so quiet, when the rest of the time you could barely shut him up.
It was to keep up the pretence. The lie that everything was fine.
Because he felt he had to lie to him.
He faltered, half pulled his fingers out, earned a dismayed grunt. “Stevie.”
“Sorry.”
He tried again. Trying to find his mark inside Bucky.
To be honest, he was flagging, and the thought of pushing inside Bucky, while he was fisting into the sheets, biting himself bloody, just to get through it?
It was too much.
Holy Christ, he’d made him cry last time. Sobbing into the fucking sheets. While he just pounded into him, like…
It was too much like…
Well, that put paid to any chance of any of that tonight. His half hard dick was giving up the ghost entirely.
He redoubled his efforts, trying to get Bucky off so they could at least end this without an argument and go to bed…
…But Bucky didn’t get off on it.
He’d confessed, once, the only time Steve had managed to get him to talk about any of it, that even the pressure of Steve’s finger was unbearable. So all this was just…
Steve sat back.
Bucky opened his eyes, lips bitten red raw with the effort of keeping from crying out.
Steve felt sick.
“Stevie?” Bucky looked confused.
“I can’t, Buck.”
There it was again, that flicker of hurt above something else, something harder, too fleeting to catch. Bucky sat up, dragged the sheet over himself and pulled his knees up to his chin.
And Steve felt awful.
He dropped a hand onto Bucky’s arm. “I’m sorry.”
Bucky pulled away, ducked his face into the crook off his elbow, said something Steve couldn’t make out.
“I don’t wanna hurt you, Buck.”
Bucky snapped up, all sudden anger. “Why not? Everybody else did. What
makes you so fucking special?”
Steve could see in an instant Bucky wished he could take it back, so he very, very purposefully let it go.
He reached out again, and this time Bucky let him. “You gotta talk to me. Please. We gotta talk about this.”
“You wanna talk? How about we talk about the fact that you’ve barely touched me in three weeks?”
Bucky’s eyes were looking distinctly wet.
“Buck-“
“Don’t do that. Don’t say ‘Buck’ like you can shut me up.” Bucky pulled back again. “Three weeks, Steve. Used goods, is that it?”
“Stop!”
The worst thing is that it was so absolutely ‘Bucky’, that it made Steve’s heart ache. Bucky had always had a wicked tongue on him when he was upset. He crafted words like barbs, until they lodged in your gut and speared you right through.
“Stop,” Steve said again, calmer this time. “Stop twistin what I’m saying.”
Bucky just ducked his head again, looking utterly defeated. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”
“It’s not that, Buck. I swear. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand hurting you. Maybe… Maybe we could try it the other way round.”
“I can’t.” Bucky spoke into his knees.
“But maybe we could-“
Bucky looked up. “Look, I can’t, ok? I can’t do it, and it’s
embarrassing. That enough sharin for you?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
At least Bucky was letting him touch him now, letting him rub circles into the back of his hand with his thumb.
Steve sighed. “It just feels too much like… Like…” He couldn’t finish.
“But it ain’t. It ain’t like that at all.” Bucky uncurled himself from where he was huddled, all earnestness. “I want you. I want you so bad, Stevie. It ain’t too late,” Steve felt his hand on his waist, was already shaking his head, even as Bucky was moving forward, “maybe we could-“
Steve pulled back. “No. Not tonight.”
“I promise you, I ain’t lying.” Bucky tugged his hand up and kissed it. “I want it, Stevie. I want you.”
Steve snatched his hand back. “Well, I don’t.”
Bucky’s face instantly went cold. “Fine.”
He snatched up one of the pillows, and stalked out, leaving Steve staring at the door as it slammed closed behind him.
He punched the mattress. Did it again for good measure, and again, until the springs squealed. He wanted rip the room apart, smash it to matchsticks, and tear himself apart with it.
He was so angry. An icy rage settled deep in his gut. He wanted to rip it all down around his ears.
He wanted to march into the other room, pick Bucky up and shake him. For refusing to discuss anything. For shooting down all of Steve’s attempts at compromise. For making everything so much fucking harder…
And then he hated himself for that. Because Bucky didn’t owe anyone a damn thing. Certainly not him.
All he’d ever done was let him down for a whole goddamn lifetime and even now, he just couldn’t stop fucking up.
He hated Hydra and everything they’d taken from them. He hated that they’d both fought and died for nothing at all. He hated that even now it wasn’t over. It was just one thing after another, and it never fucking ended.
But more than that, and most of all, he hated the entire goddamn universe that had decided this was what they got.
Neither of them had done anything to deserve any of this. Not a thing.
Steve was tired.
He was so, so achingly tired of fighting.
He pushed himself off the bed and wandered into the bathroom. Splashed some water into his face from the sink.
He stood up, watched the droplets running off his reflection and had the sudden urge the drag the mirror from the wall. To shatter it against the porcelain.
He didn’t.
He reached up instead to unhook it and took it to rest on the floor inside their closet. He shut the door on it with a click.
Bucky was laid on the sofa when he went to find him, watching some teleshopping thing with the sound down low. Steve could just about make out the frown on Bucky’s face, half hidden by his hair.
On the TV, the names of people who’d bought the limited edition items were scrolling across the bottom of the screen, while a couple with plastic smiles were gesticulating enthusiastically over some electrical appliance.
Steve watched in silence for a couple of minutes, wondering what had happened to babyjewel57 from Lafayette, Indiana, that meant she was buying a fake ruby ring at three in the morning.
He flicked his attention back to Bucky who was resolutely not reacting to his presence.
“Are you coming back to bed?”
Bucky didn’t look up. “No.”
Steve turned back into the room. Just as he was closing the door, he heard Bucky’s sigh. “It’s not fair.”
It oughta be petulant. Childish.
But it wasn’t.
It was just sad.
And Steve agreed completely.