hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Okay, kids, you know the drill. Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because

hydratrashmeme is about as far from a safe space as you can get. Garbage we like: noncon, whump, aftermath, violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves. Garbage you should find a different trashcan for: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, OOC evil!good guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves, rotting leftovers dressed up as a romantic gourmet meal. Nothing wrong with 'em, but this isn't the crowd you should be pitching to if you're trying to sell Brock Rumlow as anything but a human dumpster fire.

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All prompts or fills that contain Infinity War spoilers must go on the Infinity War spoiler post until May 26th. Spoilers in the main dumpsters will be deleted.

Round 4 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 5.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

So, like, the opposite of a size kink.

Prewar, Bucky & skinny Steve have an ongoing sexual relationship, preferably with Steve in a dominant role.

Fast forward to Bucky's first captivity, where he's tortured/raped/otherwise brutalized. Afterwards, he tries to brush it off and/or hide the gory details from Steve, trying to pick up where they left off.

Except, Steve's body is different now, bigger now - in, er, every sense. Maybe Steve's still figuring out his own strength and accidentally gets a little too rough. Maybe Steve has no idea that Bucky's been raped. In any case, the second Bucky gets Steve on top of him/inside of him, Bucky panics.

Take it wherever you like, but I'm imagining some good old fashioned repeatedly-trying-and-failing-to-fuck broken-dick angst, with Bucky freaking out but refusing to admit anything is wrong.

Would be down with Bucky's issues being purely sexual (I.e. certain angles, being topped, the feeling of Steve inside of him) orrrr with the issues extending to other facets of their interactions (I.e. panicking when Steve gets too close, comes up behind him, touches him platonically.)

And while there are lots of opportunities for Bucky angst here, I also kind of love the Steve body angst angle as well??? Here he is, still getting used to this new body, probably feeling weird and awkward and kinda alone, just been reunited the person he loves most in the world - and that person panics every time Steve touches him.

WHALE ANON IS HERE FOR THIS

YES PLEASE

yes please

His body is all wrong.

Steve hates that he thinks that, but he does. He’ll catch a glimpse of his reflection out of the corner of his eye, or he’ll hit his head on something that he’d once been able to pass easily underneath, and he’ll think all wrong like some ungrateful punk.

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy this new body. It’s big, strong, and fast in all the ways he used to dream about. When he came out of the machine, after his head had stopped buzzing and after he’d tried to avenge Erskine’s death, he’d felt the relief of not being in pain for the first time in his short life. He’d taken that pain for granted, often told people “it’s not so bad,” but he knows now that was horseshit. He couldn’t go back. Not now that he knows what it’s like not to be in constant pain. What it’s like to breathe fully, to feel his heart beating steadily, to eat whenever and whatever he wants. What it’s like to have power. What it’s like to have people look at him like he’s something beautiful and good.

He enjoys his body, but it feels wrong.

He thinks what he needs is for Bucky to see his new body. To see, and to touch, and to love Steve like he always has. If Bucky could desire him before, could let Steve crawl on top of Bucky during the nights in their tiny apartment and make love to him, how much better will it be now? Steve is finally the partner Bucky deserves. Strong, beautiful, good. Big, in every way. He can make love to Bucky how he’s always wanted to, holding him and pleasuring him, with no need to stop to catch his breath or regain his stamina.

Maybe then, Steve thinks, this body will start to feel right. The way it should.

*

Steve’s body is good for something beyond the shows and propaganda films. His body is big, and strong, and fast. His body can leap out of airplanes sans parachute and land no worse for wear. His body can sneak into Hydra trucks and take out the occupants without setting off alarms. His body can save Allied soldiers being held prisoner in Hydra factories.

His body can save Bucky.

He finds Bucky strapped to a gurney, far from the area where the other soldiers were being kept. Bucky looks shockingly gaunt, and he’s repeating his rank and number, over and over, in a numbed voice that makes Steve want to chase down the man he saw fleeing the room and beat the hell out of him. He can’t leave, though. He can’t leave Bucky.

When Bucky realizes that Steve is there, really there, he smiles. He says Steve’s name like it’s salvation, and Steve feels like Captain America for the first time since they gave him the ridiculous moniker. Except, then Bucky’s eyes narrow in confusion as they sweep Steve’s body. Bucky’s not looking at him like he’s beautiful or good. Bucky’s looking at him with suspicion.

“I thought you were smaller.”

It’s almost an accusation.

“I joined the Army.”

Steve counters pathetically. As if he’s funny. Bucky doesn’t laugh.

He unstraps Bucky and helps him stand. Bucky’s trembling like a leaf as Steve supports him. Steve wonders what they did to him, but he doesn’t ask. He’d never ask.

Bucky disentangles himself from Steve as quickly as he can, staggering behind Steve and grilling him on what exactly happened to change him like this. Each question has the bite of fear, and anger. He won’t accept Steve’s help, or his touch.

Steve’s body feels wrong again.

Stab me through the heart, why don't you. This was perfect. Sometimes the toughest part of writing is knowing when to stop, and you nailed it. Kudos.

I'm already SAD and excited!!

STEEB BABY NO :C This is quality trash, yesssss

After they escape, Steve thinks everything might be okay. Bucky won’t let Steve touch him, but he’d stayed for Steve while the factory exploded around them. “Not without you!” Bucky had yelled with stubborn devotion, forcing Steve to test the limits of his new body to save them both.

Everything might be okay. Bucky’s seen things, been through things, that Steve can only imagine. Of course he’ll need some time to adjust to Steve’s new body. Steve can understand that, even if it hurts.

Steve tries the night at the pub where Bucky tells him that he’ll follow Steve back into the fray. Bucky’s stumbling out of the pub into the dim London street, Steve steady behind him. Just them. Alone in the dark. Like old times.

“Hey, man,” Steve comes up behind Bucky, puts a firm hand on his waist to guide him into the adjoining alley, and whispers in his ear. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”

Bucky freezes. Steve can feel Bucky’s skin shiver underneath his jacket. He can feel the quickening of Bucky’s heart.

“Let go of me,” Bucky’s speech is slurred, but he’s obviously terrified. “I don’t want- Let me go!”

Steve does, hurt and confused, taking a step backward with his hands raised. Bucky whirls to face him, drunk and wary. There’s no need for Bucky to be afraid of Steve. Steve would never use his new body to take advantage of Bucky, just as he’d known Bucky would never have taken advantage of him when he was small and sick. A horrible, traitorous misgiving enters Steve’s mind. That Bucky doesn’t trust him. That Bucky only liked Steve when he was weak. He only liked Steve because he was weak.

The thought makes him angry. He pushes it aside, because it’s not true. He can’t believe it’s true.

He won’t believe it.

“I’m sorry,” Steve tells Bucky, placating. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Just thought I’d offer.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders slump. He moves aside to let Steve walk ahead of him back to the barracks. Every step Steve takes feels wrong. He’s a monstrosity. Too big, too cumbersome. Untouchable.

Unlovable.

[PAINED WHALE NOISES]

This is so good!

Oh this is wonderful.

Weeks pass.

They’ve been on the move, Steve, Bucky, and the rest of what the propaganda machine has started calling the Howling Commandos. Gabe, Dum Dum, Jim, Jacques, and Monty are good men, good soldiers, and good friends, and they all look at Steve with respect and admiration. For the first time in his life, Steve has friends other than Bucky. The Howlies at his side, Peggy and Howard back at base. He has friends. He likes that.

He doesn’t dwell on the questions he sometimes has. If the Howlies would have liked him without this body. If Peggy and Howard would have continued to pretend they like him. He’s afraid of the answers.

He doesn’t dwell on the bitter catch that having health, power, and friends seems to have cost him Bucky.

Bucky follows Steve, like he’d promised. He’s loyal and brave. Steve couldn’t ask for a better right-hand man, but he would trade all of that for the man who’d left him in Brooklyn. That man with the twinkle in his stormy blue eyes and the unbridled mirth in his laughter. That man who’d loved Steve, touched him, and treated him like something precious when everyone else’s eyes had slid over him.

Steve’s still not sure what happened to Bucky during the time they were separated. What took the light from his eyes and the joy from his smile. What gave him that grim determination he has in every task, equal in drinking his ration of coffee or picking off squid Nazis with his rifle from afar. He can’t help but think some of it has to do with him, with his new body, but he’s not sure.

Steve’s not sure, he’ll never ask, and he knows Bucky will never tell him.

*

Late one night Bucky comes into Steve’s tent. Steve sits up, on alert, but he knows it’s Bucky. Even in the dark, he knows. This body’s senses are sharp, he can hear Bucky’s breathing, and smell Bucky’s scent underneath the grime that coats every Howlie’s skin. The tents they sleep in are small. Steve couldn’t have stood up inside it, even with his old body. There’s barely enough room for two men to lie side-by-side.

“Bucky,” Steve breathes into the darkness as Bucky crawls under the tent flap and kneels between Steve’s legs, spread beneath a wool blanket. “What are you doing?”

Steve tries to bring his arms around Bucky to draw him closer, everything he’s wanted, but Bucky’s heart pounds with fear, so loudly that Steve can hear it.

“Don’t.”

Bucky growls the word softly, and Steve doesn’t know if he means don’t speak, or don’t touch, or both, but he lowers his arms and grunts his assent.

“I missed you,” Bucky answers Steve’s question as if the three months between the asking haven’t passed. “God, I missed you.”

He kisses Steve slowly, like he’s savoring Steve’s lips, and Steve resists the urge to lift his arms and let his hands explore Bucky like Bucky’s are tentatively exploring him. He’ll let Bucky tell him when, if, that’s okay. He just wants whatever Bucky is willing to give him.

“Lie down, Stevie.”

Steve obeys, and it’s a thrill to have Bucky sprawl on top of him. In his old body he’d always been on top, necessitated by his frailty. He’d always been on top, and he’d always been the one inside Bucky. He’s never had Bucky inside him, and he suddenly wants that. If Bucky will give it to him.

Bucky presses himself against Steve’s body. He kisses Steve’s neck, and then his chest underneath his T-shirt. Steve is painfully hard, but he doesn’t reach down to adjust himself. He restrains himself from rutting against Bucky. He doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this.

He can feel that Bucky is soft, and the familiar misgivings swell. Bucky’s soft, and his heart continues to hammer, and Steve can’t help but speculate as to what that means.

“I want this,” Bucky growls against Steve’s chest. He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as Steve. “I want this.”

Steve wants to say so many things, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t, because Bucky said don’t.

Bucky reaches down between them. He palms Steve’s cock through too many layers. Blanket, pants, underwear, all as frustrating an enemy as Captain America has ever had to face. Steve can’t stop his hips from surging upward to meet Bucky’s hand, and he groans quietly.

Bucky freezes. Everything except his heartbeat.

“No,” Bucky sounds terrified. “No, fuck, I want this.”

Bucky sounds terrified, but he sounds irritated as well. Steve curses himself for ruining this.

“Bucky,” Steve tries, because he’s already ruined it. “What is it?”

Bucky rolls off of Steve, hitting the side of the tent. He scrambles to leave, panting with fear.

“Bucky, please,” Steve sits up again, desperate to have Bucky stay. “What- what did I do? Just tell me what I did, I promise I won’t do it again.”

“It’s not you, you idiot,” Bucky tells him with quiet fury as he leaves. “Can’t you see that?”

Steve doesn’t believe him. He stares at the dark space where Bucky's disappeared. He’s ruined everything with this body, and he doesn’t even have the decency to regret it fully. He’s ruined everything.

He’s ruined them.

Poor Steve, and poor Bucky. They've both been changed, and neither knows how to handle it.

Bucky saying "“I want this,” Bucky growls against Steve’s chest. He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as Steve. “I want this.” “No,” Bucky sounds terrified. “No, fuck, I want this.” was completely heartbreaking.

I love this. Keep up the great work!

"Steve’s not sure, he’ll never ask, and he knows Bucky will never tell him."

The way Steve misunderstands Bucky's failed attempt to overcome the fear is so painfully good. The repetition of "ruined" is really effective. This is fantastic.

Another month gone. Captain America and the Howling Commandos take down another Hydra base. They celebrate around a fire that night. Steve laughs and jokes with the rest of them, reliving their triumphs. Bucky laughs a few times, too. Steve watches out of the corner of his eye as Bucky smiles at something Gabe says to him. He tries not to be jealous.

“Can I sit by you?”

Steve asks Bucky after Gabe excuses himself to his tent. Monty’s on watch, but everyone else has gone to sleep. It’s just Steve, Bucky, and the dying fire.

“No one’s stoppin’ you,” Bucky shrugs, trying too hard to sound indifferent. “I’m gonna turn in anyway. I’ve got third watch.”

“Wait,” Steve attempts, desperate to have Bucky stay. “Just wait, please. Stay with me a little longer.”

Bucky looks at him. The fire’s fading light illuminates the hollows of his cheeks. His cheeks used to be so full.

“Okay,” Bucky agrees cautiously. “A little longer.”

Steve thanks him and sits, giving Bucky a few inches between them. There’s a long silence as each man watches the fire go out. Steve thinks about Bucky’s face, beautiful even now. He wants to kiss him.

“It’s not you,” Bucky says. “I know you think it’s your fault, but it’s not.”

“Then what is it?”

Bucky doesn’t answer him. The last ember dies.

“I like this body,” Steve continues. “It was strange at first, it feels wrong sometimes, but I like it. I understand if you don’t, if this isn’t what you signed up for. You don’t have to- ”

“Steve, shut up.”

Bucky’s hand finds Steve’s in the dark. There’s always been safety in darkness for people like them. Bucky twitches when they make contact, but his fingers intertwine with Steve’s fingers, curling tightly.

“You still draw?” Bucky asks quietly. “Haven’t seen you draw over here.”

“Yeah,” Steve answers. It’s a thrill just to have Bucky holding his hand, like he’s sixteen again. “I still draw. I got a sketchbook in my tent, if you wanna see it.”

He doesn’t mean it as a proposition, but he feels Bucky tense.

“In the morning,” Steve tries to salvage. “Only if you want to.”

Steve feels Bucky shift beside him, moving so their legs are touching. He never lets go of Steve’s hand. Steve stays as still as he can. He feels Bucky’s head come to rest on his shoulder. Safety in the darkness.

“Now,” Bucky whispers, grimly determined as ever. “I wanna see it now.”

Steve guides Bucky back to his tent, no need for light with Steve’s senses. Bucky’s hand grips him like a vise. He can hear Bucky’s heart pounding, an undercurrent to the soft noises in the forest around them. He doesn’t understand why Bucky is so afraid of him. It hurts.

They maneuver themselves inside the tent, necessitating Bucky to drop Steve’s hand. When they’ve sat, Steve fishes for his sketchbook and flashlight. Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder, stopping the pretext.

“Don’t.”

Steve thinks he knows what Bucky means this time. Don’t turn on the light.

Don’t break the barrier.

“I wanna make you feel good,” Bucky whispers, gravel in his voice. “Get up on your knees.”

Steve does, thinking about Bucky’s face. His soft lips, warm mouth, wet tongue. Blood surges south. Steve stifles a longing moan.

“I want this,” Bucky says as he unbuttons Steve’s fly. “I want it.”

Steve wants it, too.

Bucky guides Steve’s cock out into the cool air. He wraps his hand around it and pumps leisurely. He breathes deeply, and Steve has just enough blood left in his brain to register that Bucky’s heart is slowing. He keeps his hands at his sides, wanting this, not wanting to ruin it again.

“Damn, Steve,” Bucky’s voice has the shadow of his old humor. “They made everything bigger, huh?”

Steve wants to laugh, but they have to keep quiet. He wants to think up a witty retort, but his faculties are engaged elsewhere.

Those faculties are completely obliterated when Bucky’s lips find the head of his cock and his mouth sucks Steve down with practiced ease. It’s been too long, Steve thinks as he stifles another moan. Too fucking long, and, God, he loves this man and his wicked tongue. He needs him, and anything he’s willing to give him. In the darkness they could be anywhere. They could be back in that tiny apartment. Bucky could have the gleam in his eyes and Steve could be small again. He could be what Bucky wants again.

Steve’s arms rise from his sides. His hands find the back of Bucky’s head, like they would have in their apartment.

Bucky jerks away violently, heartbeat roaring. His back hits the side of the tent, hard. Steve hates himself for ruining it again.

“Fuck,” Bucky sounds like he’s going to spit. “I thought I could do this. Fuck!”

Steve stuffs himself back into his pants. He tries not to be angry and ashamed at the disgust in Bucky’s voice. He can feel Bucky shaking before he moves himself as far from Steve as he can in the tent’s confines.

“Sorry,” Steve apologizes reflexively.

“No,” Bucky’s angry. “No, don’t.”

Steve doesn’t understand.

“No,” Bucky repeats, still angry. “I can do this, c’mon. Let’s try again.”

Steve chuckles incredulously.

“Don’t think I’m gonna rise to the occasion again, Buck.”

There’s unintended bitterness in his voice, and he hates it. Bucky’s shoulders slump.

“Fuck,” Bucky sounds weary. “Fuck.”

He crawls out of Steve’s tent. Steve lies on his back, struggling with his need, and his inability to do anything about it. Struggling with his anger. Bucky says he still wants Steve, but he’s afraid of him. Disgusted by him.

If Steve were braver, as brave as everyone seems to think he is, he’d ask Bucky what his game is. He’d ask, but he knows from years of experience that the quickest way to get Bucky to shut down is to try and make him talk. God, but he loves that stupid, stubborn man.

He loves him too much to let him go.

Everything about this fill makes me happy. Bucky says he still wants Steve, but he’s afraid of him. Disgusted by him. Yes! My absolute favorite sort of trash misunderstanding. Steve's confusion and anger and sense of rejection here are just wonderful.

There’s always been safety in darkness for people like them. The repetition of darkness as a place of safety was brilliant.

Bucky trying to overcome his trauma on his own and repeatedly failing is so, so heartbreaking. He's trying to heal, but he doesn't know how.

Steve knows something is wrong, but he doesn't know what it is. His observations are clouded by his own biases and insecurities, so he can't make the right connections.

Love it! Keep up the great work!

Two months later Cap and the Howlies liberate a small Austrian village from Hydra control. The villagers are grateful. They put the Howlies up at the inn, complimentary, like the beer downstairs in the inn’s pub. From the way some of the local women are eyeing them, Steve’s certain that at least one Howlie will be seeing a different kind of action tonight.

“To Captain Rogers!”

They always toast him whenever they have the chance. This time it’s Jacques who starts it, red beret askew. Steve dips his head modestly, a tiny smile on his lips. He’s embarrassed by the attention, but he’s also come to enjoy it.

“To you,” Steve counters, raising his tankard. “To all of you!”

There’s the roar of cheering and glasses clinking. Steve sips his beer politely. He doesn’t drink very much. He never had with his old body, and in this new body he doesn’t feel the effects like the others do. Another way he’s different, but this one he doesn’t mind. He has no reason to get drunk. His mind is clear as he kindly rejects several women’s advances.

The pub is full of light, and Steve watches Bucky sitting by himself across the room. Bucky sits by himself a lot these days. Steve watches as women sit beside him. Laughing, flirting, trying. Bucky plays the part admirably, as he always has, but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes. The women leave, disappointed.

Others have better luck. As the night progresses, Jim, Dum Dum, and Gabe each disappear with a comely partner. Monty heads upstairs to his room, alone. He has a wife waiting for him in England, and Steve’s never seen him be unfaithful. Bucky follows soon after, stiffly bidding Steve and Jacques goodnight. The celebration has died.

“I see the way you look at him.”

Jacques’ accent is thick, but he and the Howlies, with a lot of help from Gabe, have learned to communicate across the language barrier. Jacques’ English has become clearer, and Steve’s picked up some basic French.

“Pardon?”

Steve looks sharply at Jacques. His heart races. He’s given himself away. His insecurities about whether the Howlies would have liked him without his new body have mostly died, but he knows what they’ll think of him if they know this. Worse, if they find out about Bucky. Another thing Steve will have ruined for him.

“The way you look at Sergeant Barnes,” Jacques elaborates. “I understand.”

Come to think of it, Steve’s never seen Jacques looking at a woman. He’s never seen Jacques accept a proposition, or heard him talk about a woman waiting for him back home.

“You understand?” Steve asks carefully.

“Some men have women,” Jacques’ voice is soft. “And some, like us, have men.”

Like us.

“You should be more careful,” Steve warns. “Who you say that to.”

“James told me things, in the factory,” Jacques ignores Steve’s admonition. “When they would bring him back after they were done with him. He told me things about you. You helped him hold on as long as he did.”

A knot twists in the bottom of Steve’s stomach, like in his old body when he’d eaten something too sweet.

“What do you mean, after they were done with him?”

“Some of the guards took an interest in him,” Jacques’s voice is distant, his words rambling with drunken purpose. “I am not sure if any of the other prisoners figured it out, but I could see what was happening. I tried to help, but I could not stop it.”

The knot in Steve’s stomach has become a rock. They shouldn’t be talking about this, he thinks. It’s not fair to Bucky, who's been guarding himself so carefully from Steve. He’ll never forgive Steve, if he knows that Steve knows.

“He got very sick and stopped eating,” Jacques continues hazily. “He could no longer work, so they took him away to isolation. No one ever came back from isolation. I thought I would never see him again.”

“That’s enough.”

Steve stands. He’s horrified by the revelation, and he’s angry. He’s angry at himself for not understanding.

“You didn’t know,” Jacques finally catches up. “Bordel de merde, I thought he would have told you.”

“No. He didn’t,” Steve rubs a hand over his face. “Don’t tell anyone else.”

“Of course not,” Jacques sounds as horrified as Steve feels. “Jésus.”

Steve goes upstairs to his room. He’s in shock. He hadn’t known, how could he have known? How could he, if Bucky won’t talk to him?

But how could he not have seen?

The penny finally drops, thanks to an inebriated Jacques Dernier.

And now Steve has to keep the fact that he knows from Bucky, because he knows that Bucky didn't want him to know. Poor Steve. This new information is only going to bring him more pain.

This fill continues to be fantastic. Keep up the great work! Kudos!

Oh wow, I disappear from the forum for a while and a fill appears! I am nearly certain that this was my prompt, but it's been so long and I've been so busy that I'm not 100% sure lol. Either way this fill is amazing!! I love Steve's fear and anxiety that Bucky doesn't like his new body, that Bucky only wanted him when he was small and weak and sick. It hurts so much in the best of ways. I also love the little clues we get towards Bucky's mindset. He clearly does want sex with Steve, or at least wants intimacy with Steve, but the trauma is too fresh and bright and painful. I love this, and I love you anon, for writing it. <3

The room is dark when Steve opens the door, but he senses Bucky sitting there, on his bed. Steve closes the door behind him and locks it. His heart is beating hard enough to rival Bucky’s. He wants to grab Bucky, shake him, demand to know why he didn’t tell him. He wants to cling to Bucky, hold him, never let him go.

He can’t do either.

“I wanna try again,” Bucky says steadily. “Let’s try again.”

Steve turns on the lamp. Bucky is naked, his clothes in a heap on the floor. His skin smells of the soap the villagers gave them all to wash with before the festivities. Bucky twitches with the sudden rush of light.

“No,” Steve decides, although his cock swells with anticipation. “Not your way. It’s my turn.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Bucky stands, hiding his unease with bravado. Steve hasn’t seen Bucky naked in over a year. He wants to touch him.

“You first, Buck. I wanna make you feel good.”

Steve drops to his knees, looking up at Bucky. Letting him choose whether or not to cross the space between them. He feels guilty, that he knows. He wants to make it up to Bucky.

Bucky stares down at him, his face unreadable. Steve studies his body in the light. Bucky’s as broad as he ever was, but Steve can see Bucky’s ribs underneath his skin. He can see the scars that weren’t there before. Scars on the inside of his thighs, and higher. Scars where a knife might be pressed to motivate a man to cooperate with something he otherwise wouldn’t.

Steve shudders and looks back up to Bucky’s face. Bucky glares defiantly, daring Steve to ask. Steve never would. Now he doesn’t have to.

He looks away from Bucky’s ire, down again. Bucky is soft. His balls hang low from the underside of his dangling cock, framed in a snarl of dark hair. Steve wants to bury his face there. He wants to feel Bucky’s cock harden in his mouth and hear Bucky moan with pleasure above him. He wants to make Bucky remember. Remember Steve, and remember himself. Remember them.

Bucky takes a step toward Steve.

“Me, then you?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees easily. “You, then me.”

Bucky takes another step forward. Steve clasps his hands behind his back. He’s not going to ruin it this time.

“Don’t move.”

Bucky goes to turn off the light. Steve doesn’t move, but his heart races with excitement. He’s never successfully brought Bucky to completion with his mouth. It was too hard to breathe, with his old body. Now he can, with this new body that’s been good for everything except what he wants most.

Bucky’s cock remains soft when he returns to stand in front of Steve in the darkness. It’s soft when Steve begins to lick and suck all around it, teasing like Bucky used to tease him. He kisses the insides of Bucky’s thighs. He kisses up the scars, as high as they go, to Bucky’s perineum and the underside of his scrotum. Bucky’s skin shivers, his heart pounds, but he doesn’t tell Steve to stop. Steve so badly wants to touch him with more than his mouth, but his hands stay behind his back.

Slowly, he feels Bucky’s balls start to draw up, sac tightening as his cock fills and his breathing quickens. Steve decides to stop the tease.

“Never done this before,” he reminds Bucky. “Tell me if I should be doing something else, or whatever you need, okay?”

“You want me to tell you what to do, Captain?”

There’s more than a shadow of his old humor. Steve clings to it, as he’s unable to cling to Bucky.

“That’s an order, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve can hear the smirk on Bucky’s face, and he clings to it. He clings to it as his lips encircle Bucky’s cock and he hears Bucky’s sharp intake of breath. He focuses his senses, and it’s exhilarating to hear Bucky’s heartbeat. To feel the blood rushing down through his veins. Bucky’s flesh thickens in Steve’s mouth and Steve experiments with his tongue, trying to mimic what he remembers Bucky doing with him. Bucky moans, low at first, rising higher. His hips thrust.

“Oh, God, yes,” Bucky gasps quietly. “Right there, Stevie. Right there, fuck, don’t stop.”

Steve doesn’t. He bobs his head on Bucky’s shaft, sucking and licking. He revels in the noises Bucky makes over his head. Breathy moans and ragged, panting whimpers of pleasure interspersed with his quiet instructions that Steve is happy to follow. Steve’s cock is very interested in what he’s hearing.

“Faster,” Bucky’s hands press insistently against the back of Steve’s head. “Please, faster.”

Steve goes faster. Bucky strangles a roar as he reaches his climax, thrusting into Steve’s mouth, clutching at Steve’s head. His essence is salty and bitter on Steve’s tongue. Steve swallows it all down. He can’t get enough. Bucky groans deeply with satisfaction. Steve can’t get enough of that, either. He's proud of himself.

“God,” Bucky says as he pulls himself out of Steve’s mouth. “Fuck, Steve.”

He’s panting from his exertion, but he sounds relieved. Content. It fills Steve with joy.

“Hey,” Bucky staggers back and sits heavily on the bed. “Come here.”

Steve stands and sheds his uniform. The Captain America costume joins Bucky’s blue jacket on the floor.

“Your turn,” Bucky says when Steve sits beside him on the bed. “I wanna make you feel good.”

Like old times. Except, it can never be like old times again.

“But, if we can’t,” Steve says, strong and steady in Bucky’s ear, because he understands now. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Bucky says with desperate anger. “It’s not okay.”

“Yes,” Steve assures him. “It is.”

Bucky’s heart is pounding. His skin shivers. Steve resists the urge to embrace him. He hates what Hydra’s done to Bucky, and he hates that their intimacy will forever be tainted by it.

“It’s not you,” Bucky lets out a shaky breath. “God, I know you think it’s you, but it’s not. It’s me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve tells him, believing Bucky for the first time. “Whatever it is, we can get through it.”

“You’re gorgeous, and I love you,” Bucky says earnestly, a rush of words held back too long. The words Steve’s wanted to hear and believe. “I love you, no matter what. I love that you’re healthy and strong. I missed you, Steve.”

Bucky kisses him. Steve lets him take the lead, hands at his sides. He wants anything Bucky is willing to give him.

“I love you, too,” Steve pulls his mouth away to tell him. He can’t remember the last time he told Bucky that. “I love you so much, Buck.”

He feels Bucky shiver. Not with fear. With anticipation. Like old times. Bucky moves, sprawling face-down on the bed. Steve moves, hovering over him. He wants this, if Bucky wants this.

“You should put on a condom,” Bucky mumbles into the pillow. “For safety.”

They’d never used condoms, back in their apartment.

“I’ll take my chances,” Steve tells him. “I’m a superhuman, after all.”

He hears Bucky chuckle into the pillow.

“I’d feel better if you did. Just in case.”

Steve’s heart clenches. Not just because of the implications, but because Steve knows how he would have misinterpreted Bucky’s concerns, before. He reminds himself that it doesn’t matter now. He’s going to make it up to Bucky.

“Okay.”

Steve has condoms, and Vaseline. He rolls a condom on, greasing himself up. His slick fingers prod Bucky’s ass. He hears Bucky’s heart racing.

“We could do it the other way,” Steve offers. “You on top.”

“No,” Bucky growls into the pillow. “I want this.”

Steve wants it, too, no matter how much guilt he feels over that. His right forefinger breaches Bucky. Bucky gasps.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” Bucky insists. “Keep going.”

Steve adds a second finger. Bucky moans.

“Yes,” Bucky says in a different voice. “Yes.”

A third finger. Steve starts to hope.

“Please,” Bucky murmurs. “Please, Steve.”

Steve adds a fourth finger. Bucky moans again, humping himself against the bed, ready to go again. He feels ready, and Steve’s been ready for a long time. Too long.

“I want you, Buck,” Steve says breathily. “Tell me you want me, too.”

“I do,” Bucky says. “God, I do.”

Steve pulls his fingers out. He positions himself over Bucky. He starts to push himself inside.

Bucky’s heart jumps. He stifles a yell into the pillow, pulling himself away from Steve. Steve offers no resistance as Bucky rolls aside and curls in on himself, shielding himself as he shakes with fear. It hurts, but Steve knows why. He understands.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bucky growls. “I want you. I want you, why can’t I do this?”

“It’s okay,” Steve props himself up on one arm. “It’s okay.”

He knows. He understands. He’ll never tell Bucky.

“No, it’s not,” Bucky repeats, angry. With himself, Steve understands. Not with Steve. “It’s not.”

Steve says nothing more to assuage him. He’s told Bucky what he can. He doesn’t want to make Bucky shut down. Not after he’d managed to give Bucky a small respite of pleasure.

“Stay the night with me?”

He asks instead. Hoping. Even if nothing more happens, he wants Bucky in his bed. In his arms.

“No,” Bucky starts to get off the bed. “I gotta get back to my room.”

He’s right, Steve knows. It would be reckless, even with the locked door. No matter how much he wants it. He sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed as he listens to Bucky fumble for his clothes. He pulls the rubber off his softening cock. He knows Bucky thinks he doesn’t understand. He can never tell Bucky that he understands. That hurts in a different way.

“I love you,” Steve says softly when he hears the click of the lock. “No matter what.”

He can never tell Bucky, but he wants Bucky to understand he’s not angry. Not like before.

Bucky doesn’t respond. The door closes behind him, leaving Steve alone in the darkness.

I'm glad that Steve knows what's going on with Bucky. Now that he knows, he can navigate these new parameters of their relationship better. Starting with the hands-free blowjob was a brilliant move on Steve's part.

Bucky still has a long ways to go to heal, but at least now Steve can be a help instead of a clueless obstacle.

Keep up the great work! Kudos!

Oh yay! I don't think I've ever read wartime!recovery before. It's so great!

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