Chapter 1: ABO Alpha/Alpha
Everyone had thought Steve was an Omega. Even though he was a fighty little bastard, he was small and delicate, slender, almost feminine like most male Omegas, though at least half of that was due to illness and malnutrition.
Bucky had thought the same for additional reasons.
Steve loved his cock.
From pretty much the day Bucky presented as an Alpha, Steve had been all over him, initially just curious – “just curious” – wanting to see Bucky’s knot, watch it expand, touch it, squeeze it. Things escalated pretty quickly from there, from touching to licking to riding, and Bucky never thought Steve would be anything other than an Omega, given how well and how often Steve took his dick and how much he loved it. It got to the point where if Steve wasn’t on his knees waiting when Bucky got home from work, he knew something was wrong.
It happened on December 8, 1941, scant hours after word finally reached them about the attack on Pearl Harbor. Bucky came home from work at the docks in silence, and he wasn’t surprised when Steve wasn’t waiting for him. Punk was probably off trying to enlist again, even though they both knew the army wasn’t gonna take him-
The (admittedly weak) scent of another Alpha in rut teased his nose, made him growl automatically, even though the scent itself was almost pleasant.
He got a reply – from his and Steve’s bedroom.
Bucky nearly slammed through the door, lip curled up in a snarl – but the only person in the room was Steve. Steve, who was lying on their bed, naked and sweating. Steve, who smelled like a rutting Alpha, long-fingered hand fisting his knot. “Buck,” he half-growled, half-whined.
“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky gasped, taking a step back, “I thought- after so long-”
“M’too,” the other Alpha managed, “Buck – please, Buck – need –“
“We can’t, Steve,” Bucky stepped back again but was unable to look away when Steve lifted a leg to expose his hole, loose and slick with Vaseline from where he’d been fingering himself. “Two Alphas goin’ together – it’s wrong!”
“Please, Buck! Need it – need you! Want you in me-“
Bucky never could resist when Steve begged so sweetly, so fervently. He groaned aloud and started stripping off his clothes. “Shit, Steve. On your stomach.”
Steve managed to flail his way onto his belly without taking his hand off his cock. Bucky found the Vaseline and checked to make sure Steve was loose enough to take him before sinking his cock into Steve’s hole just like he had a hundred times before. Steve even felt the same inside, hot and tight, clenching around him like he never wanted him to leave.
“Fuck,” Bucky growled. He curled an arm under one of Steve’s and grabbed the opposite shoulder, braced himself on the bed and thrust hard. Steve moaned like he was dying, arching his back and spreading his legs and presenting like the Omega they thought he was. Bucky couldn’t resist, continuing to thrust and grunting with every drive, Steve writhing under him.
If it weren’t for the (still almost pleasant) scent of another Alpha in his nose, it could have been any of the other hundred times they'd fucked, Steve squirming on his dick like he was dying for it and Bucky giving it to him like it was his reason for existing. It didn’t take long for Bucky’s knot to start inflating, making every thrust more difficult as they prepared to tie, Steve’s whines going high and desperate.
Steve came with a gasp, walls clamping down around Bucky the way they always did, making the other Alpha growl, rutting even harder into Steve. His knot swelled, locking them together right before he nearly flooded the smaller Alpha with his seed.
“Fuck,” Bucky said again, and managed to get them rolled onto their backs and propped up against the headboard to wait out the tie.
They didn’t talk about it. They just carried on as if nothing had changed, since as far as anyone else knew, nothing had. Since they still fucked every night, Steve still smelled more like Bucky than himself, his own Alpha scent faint and easily smothered. His knot didn’t even inflate three-quarters of the time, which made it easy to pretend.
And then the war came home to them as a draft notice and didn’t let them go for seventy years.
“Yes, Nat, I know my rut is coming up, and no, I don’t need a partner.”
Bucky perked up when he heard Steve enter the apartment. A quick, quiet sniff determined that the other super soldier was alone, so he had to be on the phone. That same sniff confirmed Natasha’s suspicions; Steve was pumping out pre-rut pheromones like it was going out of style. Yet instead of making him feel aggressive and territorial, he felt… aroused. Steve had only had the one rut that he could remember, and the rest of the time that he could have they’d all been on shitty-tasting suppressants in the ass-end of Europe.
Still, Steve’s tone made it sound like this was an old argument.
“I’m sure Sharon’s nice, but number 1: she’s Peggy’s niece. No. Just… no. Absolutely not. Number 2: I've got bigger things on my mind right now. I've ridden ruts out before; this one won’t be any different.” A moment of silence, then, “Yes, I know that, too, which is why I’m grabbing some of my stuff and moving to temporary quarters- what? No! Goddammit, I might be an Alpha, but I refuse to be one of those Alphas. I’m not gonna kick him out of his space just cause medical decided ‘it’s time for you to get your yearly freak on!’ Look, I gotta go; I’m gonna get my stuff. – Goodbye, Nat.”
Steve sighed heavily, and Bucky slipped out of his room.
It had been almost two years since Insight Day and all that came with it, a year and three months since Bucky had let Steve and Sam catch up to him and bring him in. He’d been put in lockdown under observation, but Steve had visited him every day he could, even if it was just to sit in silence with him. After he’d been released, Bucky had just taken up residence in the guest room on Steve’s floor. Steve hadn’t said a word against it, just beamed and nearly tripped over himself to make sure he had everything he needed.
Bucky followed Steve to his room, hovering silently, careful not to block any of his light as he packed a bag.
The man nearly hit the ceiling when he turned around and spotted him lurking. “Jesus Christ, Buck!” he gasped, clutching at his chest, “Can you please make some noise or something next time? You almost gave me a heart attack!”
“Sorry,” Bucky grunted. (He wasn’t. He loved sneaking up on Steve, now that his heart could take it.) “Where are you going?”
“Ah,” said Steve, that beautiful blush starting to color his cheeks, “Well my rut’s gonna be starting soon, and I know you're settling in so I was just gonna go to one of the empty floors to ride it out.”
Bucky stared at him. As intended, Steve started to squirm, blushing harder, looking away, stuttering out more of an explanation – only to gasp sharply when Bucky lunged and gripped him by the back of his neck. He growled automatically – instinct – but his body went lax just as it always had, the knotting dildo he’d been trying to hide falling from his hand.
“Thought so,” Bucky nearly purred, nudging it with his foot, “’s the matter, Stevie? You weren’t even gonna ask?”
“Buck,” Steve gasped, arching into the other Alpha’s grip. Whether because he was in pre-rut or because Bucky was touching him for the first time in seventy years without intent to harm or some combination of the two, he was already pitching an impressive tent in his pants.
“No!” the other Alpha managed. He would have collapsed to his knees if Bucky’s grip hadn’t slowed his fall, letting him sink gently down. “No – no, I wasn’t gonna ask – you're still recoverin’! Didn’t wanna hurt that, stop you, set you back!” His eyes rolled back, mouth falling open on a pant when Bucky tightened his grip just a little bit.
“And you haven’t told Natasha you like Alphas either?” He knew Peggy’s niece was an Omega, same as the woman herself.
That made Steve growl for real, eyes flashing. “Not Alphas!” he nearly snarled, “Ain’t ever been Alphas! Just you, Buck – only ever been you!”
And that- “On the bed.”
“You were always the first thing that came back,” Bucky growled, hauling him up, “Not my parents or my sisters, you – you and how you felt under me, how I wasn’t even close ta bein’ religious but I prayed to God every night that you'd be an Omega so’s I could treat you right… an’ how after you presented an’ still wanted me, I decided it didn’t matter an’ I’d treat you right anyway.
“Now I ain’t given you what you need in seventy Goddamn years. On the bed.”
Steve gaped at him for a second, then scrambled the rest of the way onto the bed. Bucky dug through the bag he’d been packing, found the lube, and threw it onto the bed next to the other Alpha. Then he started stripping, careful to make sure enough weapons were in reach to satisfy his paranoia.
Steve was struggling with his own clothes, nearly snarling when he couldn’t unbuckle his belt; Bucky swatted his hands away, tugged on his shirt, then started on the belt. Steve managed to yank his shirt off, then kicked off his pants and underwear when Bucky got everything unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped.
His erection slapped against his belly, leaking fluid, knot just starting to bulge out at the base. Bucky fisted him with his flesh hand and started jerking him off, tugging slowly and squeezing, almost milking Steve’s cock the way he liked. Steve writhed under him, fisting the sheets and thrusting into his grip, but he said, “No – no, want you in me when I come! Buck, Buck, please, want your knot!”
Bucky groaned. “On your stomach.”
Steve was just as ungraceful as ever when sex-drunk, nearly stabbing himself with one of Bucky’s knives and missing braining himself on the nightstand by the skin of his teeth. But he made it into position, belly down, back arched, legs spread to bare his hole. Bucky groaned again and lunged forward to eat him out for several long minutes until Steve begged for his knot again.
He pulled back, lubed up his flesh fingers, and started to stretch him open. Steve relaxed into it, same as before, sighing in pleasure and wriggling a little when Bucky teased over his prostate but didn’t press. “C’mon, Buck,” he pleaded, “C’mon, give it to me!”
Bucky withdrew his fingers, slicked his cock up, and pushed in. When he was fully seated, Steve let out a long sigh, his whole body relaxing like the weight of the world had just been lifted off of him. “You good, Stevie?”
“Yeah, yeah, great…” He rolled his head a little and smiled. “So good, Buck. Missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, punk.”
“Jerk. C’mon. Knot me.” He groaned aloud when Bucky withdrew and thrust back in, panting breaths matching the other Alpha’s grunts. “Jesus. That’s good…”
Bucky bent over Steve’s back, gripping his hips tight and rutting hard into him; it was the end of a long dry spell for both of them so they wouldn’t last long – and they didn’t. Steve moaned Bucky’s name and spurted over the sheets, his whole body shuddering. Bucky followed him over, growling and pushing in deep so his knot would tie them together as it inflated, and Steve shuddered again, moaning and shoving himself back onto it.
The sniper rolled them onto their sides out of the wet spot Steve left, and the other Alpha sighed.
“Where’s Cap? I thought this movie night thing was his idea.”
“He’s in rut, Tony. You know, the mandated one you're supposed to have every year to make sure you're healthy? When you're supposed to go off your suppressants?
Tony’s blank stare made Bruce put his head in his hands. “You haven’t ever done that, have you?”
“Wait,” said Natasha, perking up from her place on one of the couches, popcorn in hand, “He said he was going to take one of the empty floors. Did he not come talk to you?”
“Negative, Sir. Captain Rogers did not speak to me about it. My biomonitors indicate both he and Sergeant Barnes are still on their floor and have not left since the Captain’s rut began three days ago.”
“Are they alive? I mean, two super-Alphas in close quarters with one of them in rut sounds like a disaster of my proportions in the making.”
“Yes, Sir, they are very much alive.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Do I want to know?”
“Possibly, Sir, but whether you can live with knowing is an entirely different matter.”
Chapter 2: Post-TWS Voyeurism/Masturbation 1
Steve woke rock hard and with the absolute certainty that he wasn’t alone. Yet there was no sense of danger, no hair-raising fear, only familiar intense focus.
He stretched with a groan and rolled onto his back, searching for-
A shadow on shadow in a corner untouched by moonlight, the barest suggestion of a human form. He smiled and felt the focus on him intensify, crawling down his body, examining every inch of him for injury before flicking to his crotch.
His cock twitched in his sleep pants, and the shadow shifted, projecting a sense of settling-in and impatient-expectancy. Steve groaned and kicked off his sheets.
His hands started to roam his body, stroking his throat, smoothing over his chest and thighs. He tweaked his nipples and gasped softly, stomach quivering, and did it again. Then he rubbed slow circles on the pebbled flesh with one hand while the other dropped to squeeze his cock through his sleep pants.
There was the barest breath out of sync with his own, and Steve groaned again, palming his cock more firmly and stroking himself through the fabric. It was so good being back under Bucky’s gaze that it felt like Steve could come just from that, but he shoved his sleep pants down to his thighs, then kicked them off the rest of the way and groped for the lube Tony had given him as a gag gift.
A whisper of a growl escaped his watcher at the sight of the half-used tube, but Bucky didn’t move as Steve slicked his fingers, then shifted to get at his hole from the best angle without blocking Bucky’s view. It took a little doing, but he managed it and started panting as he got the first one inside.
It had been quite a while. Everything after the train – the Fall – had been full of grief; it had been seventy years for the world, but only a few days for him. Then the Chitauri invaded, and SHIELD came calling. He’d barely had time to breathe, let alone get off.
Then a few months ago, the most horrible of miracles: Bucky, alive, in the unwilling service of HYDRA reborn.
SHIELD wasn’t all Steve would have burned for his sake, and he’d spent so much time pursuing the scattered remnants of HYDRA that he’d been eating, drinking, and sleeping on the run. He knew this round wouldn’t last long.
And what do you know, he was right. Steve stretched himself, managed to get three fingers inside and scraped over his prostate – and came sharply with a loud moan, frantically stripping his cock as it nearly gushed come. He lay limp on his bed for a minute, basking in the afterglow, before he forced shaking limbs to support him as he rolled to all fours.
There was the quiet rasp of a zipper, the soft rustle of clothes, whisper-soft footsteps getting closer. The metal hand gripped his hip, holding him in place while flesh fingers tested him, then guided Bucky’s cock into him. He was longer and thicker than Steve remembered but still fit perfectly inside him.
Both of Bucky’s hands held fast to his hips, but even so he was driven to his elbows by the first rough thrust. He braced himself there, every subsequent thrust driving a sharp pant from his lips and reminding him of their first time after Azzano. Bucky was even more vigorous now, if it was possible, and Steve loved it, arching his back and spreading his legs to let the other super soldier drive deeper.
Steve was getting hard again, pushed through overstimulation and back into pleasure with every thrust, his gasps turning to cries when Bucky fisted his cock and started jerking him off. He could hear the other man grunting quietly behind him, rutting inside him and grinding over his prostate with every drive.
They came together that second time, Bucky biting down on his shoulder to muffle a shout as he came. Steve moaned shamelessly as the other man spilled inside him, thick and hot and heavy, and he shivered at the pleasure of Bucky’s weight on top of him.
Bucky rolled them out of the wet spot and kept Steve pinned against his chest with the metal arm while their cocks slowly softened. Steve couldn’t help but shiver a little in pleasure again at the little bit of familiarity; Bucky always liked staying buried inside him for as long as they both could bear it, but at last he withdrew, both of them wet and sticky.
Steve rolled onto his back and looked up at the man leaning over him, smiling a little as he examined the other’s face. He looked tired, dark bags hanging heavy under his eyes, but he had put on weight, muscle, no longer on the edge of being gaunt – dangerously underfed for a super soldier. It was a relief to know he was getting adequate nutrition.
He was also getting hard again, cock thickening between his legs. Steve spread his own, offering, but Bucky shook his head, then leaned in and kissed him, warm and deep, long and slow.
When he finally sat back, he took himself in hand, and Steve moaned low but fierce. He’d never actually told Bucky that he’d liked being marked up inside and out with his come, that every time he’d gotten himself off in their youth, the blond had wanted to be the cause and recipient of his pleasure. He’d never told the other man, but Winifred Barnes hadn’t raised a fool.
The first time Bucky had jerked off on him, marked his thin chest with seed, Steve had come without a touch.
And now he was going to get it again, after seventy years. His own cock filled so quickly that his head swam, and he gripped Bucky’s hips as he stroked his cock, not daring to touch his own lest he come too soon and add to the mess already smeared on his chest. He wanted Bucky to get there first.
Bucky’s head dropped a little, breathing picking up again as he approached the edge. Precome dripped from his tip in a steady stream; Steve could feel it pooling on his belly. Despite their unspoken accord for silence, he whimpered out, “Please, Buck…”
The other man gasped, fist moving faster, then arched with a bitten-off cry. Steve let out a full-throated moan as hot seed coated his torso up to his chin, and despite having come twice already, he came again, untouched.
Steve tried to stay awake, tried to do more than pant and watch through half-lidded eyes as Bucky cleaned himself off and tucked himself back into his jeans. Then his eyelids grew even heavier and drooped shut, the sounds of Bucky moving around fading into dreams.
He woke the next morning, clean and well-rested, under fresh sheets. His sleep pants were still pooled on the floor, but there was an unfamiliar hoodie thrown on the end of his bed.
When he sniffed it, it smelled like Bucky.
Chapter 3: WWII/Post-TWS Voyeurism/Masturbation 2
Steve couldn’t really explain why he enjoyed just watching Bucky get off. It didn’t matter if it was their quick and perfunctory sessions from the war or the long, drawn out ones from Brooklyn; he just really liked watching Bucky come however which way. Even with one of the (surprisingly many) girls willing to let him watch back then. (If they noticed he wasn’t focused on them, none of the girls ever said anything – not to his face at least.)
And that didn’t change after the serum and Azzano; if anything, in a way it got worse. Before, with all his health issues, it had been a miracle if he got half-hard without making himself sore from all the stroking. After the serum, a gust of wind could get him hard – along with the sight of Bucky in his new Commandos uniform.
Bucky could see it, too, the bastard, and immediately took advantage, grinning and steering him back to his quarters. “Buck,” he’d nearly whimpered, cock throbbing as the other squeezed him lightly through his trousers, even just that contact enough to have him gasping.
“Nice to see some things haven’t changed as much as others,” Bucky chuckled, reaching up and unbuttoning his jacket so slowly that Steve whined through his teeth. “Have a seat, Stevie.” He gestured to the chair at Steve’s desk, then sat on the end of the bed to peel off his boots.
Steve groped for the chair and fell into it without looking away as Bucky slipped off his boots and crawled up the bed to lean against the headboard. The sniper spread his legs a little, canting his hips just so to make his pants pull tight over his cock, and Steve moaned quietly, eyes darting between the man’s hands and his cock.
Bucky smirked and pushed his jacket open, then started on his shirt. He didn’t strip either of them off, just let them hang open while his hands roamed his chest. He licked his lips at the sight of the bulge between Steve’s legs; he wouldn’t mind seeing what that tasted like, but some other time. His hands dipped to his belt and unbuckled it, and he heard the chair creak as Steve’s hands tightened on the arms.
He slid his hands down his inner thighs, then slowly dragged them up, shivering a little at the roughness of the fabric. Then Bucky finally unbuttoned and unzipped, and pulled out his cock.
Steve groaned at the sight and leaned forward intently, making Bucky laugh. “C’mon, Stevie, this ain’t just my party! Let’s see what you’re working with now.”
It came out more sultry than he intended but Steve didn’t notice, leaning back in his chair and going for his own belt. His cock had gotten huge, and Bucky whistled at the sight. “Damn, Stevie! Guess I can’t call you my little guy anymore.”
“Buck…” Steve sighed.
The sniper just chuckled. “You got some slick somewhere, you damned boy scout?” When it was handed over, he slicked up and settled in with a long, slow pull, groaning at the rasp of his calluses. “C’mon, get with the program.”
Steve lubed up as commanded and started to jerk himself off, but even the touch of his own hand paled in comparison to the pleasure of watching Bucky jerk off, taking in his moans and sighs, the slick sounds of flesh on flesh, the slow beading and then dripping of precome from his tip. He took it in with eyes that finally saw clearly and in color, a brain that would remember in perfect detail. And that – that particular pattern of gasps, coupled with hitching hips and increased speed, meant that Bucky was getting close. Steve sped up to match, leaning forward again to watch the other man come undone.
And come undone he did; his whole body bucked and strained, then he arched and tossed his head back, shooting what seemed to be a gallon of come over his belly. Steve gasped and followed, still stroking himself to prolong his pleasure until he was too oversensitive to continue.
Bucky wiggled a little on the bed, sighing as Steve found a cloth and wiped them both down, then crawled into bed next to him. Despite his size, Steve still managed to fit himself up under Bucky’s arm, and he laid his head on the other man’s chest just to listen to his heartbeat.
Two years later to the day, Bucky fell from the train.
Seventy years later – also to the day – Bucky reappeared as HYDRA’s Winter Soldier.
It took years. Years of wars and fighting and internal strife, of fear and anger and worry, separately and together, all at once, stopping up his throat when all he wanted to do was scream them out. Years of therapy and howling nightmares and The Fucking Snap. Watching Bucky disappear before his eyes for the second time had damned near broken him, but he’d gotten back up and put Thanos down, gotten Bucky back again and held him so tight it felt like they merged into one being.
(Bucky had held on just as tight.)
It took a lot of doing (and a surprising amount of help from Tony), but Bucky’s name had been cleared. He’d been welcomed home as an ancillary to the Avengers, and while he’d been offered his own room in the rebuilt Avengers Compound, he’d chosen to share with Steve.
Steve didn’t refuse him, even though the mere sight of him sleep-rumpled and warm was heaven and hell in equal measure. He loved just sitting and sketching Bucky, curled up on the couch and drooling on a pillow, mid-spar with Wanda, sneaking Thin Mints out of the freezer when he thought Steve wasn’t looking. He sketched the Winter Soldier a few times, too, stills from their fights in DC that emphasized his power and skill.
Steve had been terrified during those fights, it was true, but he’d also been entranced. Bucky had been beautiful and deadly all at once, like a well-honed blade (and he hated thinking of Bucky as the weapon HYDRA had wanted him to be, but he couldn’t think of a better analogy).
It was during one of those sketching days that Bucky sat up abruptly from his nap (nothing to worry about, the doctors had assured him, the brain heals during sleep). He was staring off into space in a way that meant he recalled something not from HYDRA, and Steve waiting patiently in case he needed to provide context Bucky hadn’t remembered.
It must have been a long one – or a lot all at once – because he was silent and still for a long time. But just when Steve started to get worried (did he need to call someone?) Bucky came out of it, blinked a few times, and then looked to the other super soldier, gaze dark and hungry.
“You still like to watch, Rogers?”
It took a second for Steve to process what he said, then he blushed heavily, dropping his gaze and hiding his crotch behind his sketchpad even as his cock started to fill. Bucky ignored his embarrassment and grinned before hauling the other super soldier into his bedroom. He wrestled Steve out of his clothes and down onto the bed, then knelt over him and unzipped his jeans.
“You always liked it best like this, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question, not really. He took out his cock and fisted it with his flesh hand, making Steve moan. He was only at half-chub, but each long, slow pull on his cock hardened him further.
Steve whined under him, complained about the slow pace. “Patience, Rogers,” the sniper grunted, thumbing at the head, “This is the first time I’ve jerked off in seventy years, much less on you. I wanna make it last.”
His pace was painfully slow, drops of precome dribbling out one at a time and falling to pool on Steve’s belly, making him moan again. He writhed, tried to throw Bucky higher up on his body to suck at his tip, but Bucky resisted easily, keeping Steve’s arms pinned to his sides with his legs.
“You keep tryin’ to make me go faster and I’m gonna slow down.”
“Buck…” Steve groaned, “Please – please – been too long…”
“I know, Stevie,” he gritted out, stroking faster, gripping tighter, “I know. Seventy goddamned years of hell for both of us – ah! – but here we are – uh, uh, almost-“
“Yes – yes –“
Bucky arched above him with a muffled gasp and came. Steve arched up too, panting as hot seed striped his chest. It had been so long since he’d had Bucky’s pleasure, been marked up by it, that when the sniper reached back to finish him off, he came at the first stroke.
Bucky milked him through the orgasm to the point of oversensitivity, then released him and rolled off his chest to lie beside him, panting. “Once we’re recovered,” he mumbled, “We’re doing that again.
“Yes,” Steve said, too loudly, “Please,” and Bucky smirked.
Chapter 4: Post-Avengers AU "Dream" Sex
The ghost found him in the deep hours between midnight and dawn, slipping into his apartment and into his bed like he wasn’t protected by one of the most advanced security systems in the world in Avengers Tower. He stirred when the bed dipped, scenting the air, then relaxed with a sigh. “Buck,” he mumbled and sighed again when he felt a familiar warmth settle behind him, curl around him.
“Go back to sleep, Stevie.” The other man’s voice was rougher, deeper than what he remembered, but Steve drifted off before he could think deeply about it.
He slept better than he had since (Bucky fell) coming out of the ice.
Steve thought it was a one-off, a semi-hallucination spun off by his body to get his mind to really rest, especially since several restless nights followed. After several days of no sleep dragging at his shoulders, he dropped hard and barely got a full meal in before passing out.
He woke to gentle fingers carding through his hair. Or thought he woke, but when he caught Bucky’s scent again, he knew he had to be dreaming. Whatever else may have changed with the passage of time, that had not; Bucky was still seventy years dead, fallen from that damned train. Still, it was a comfort to see him, even just in dreams.
“Buck,” he mumbled, and hummed in pleasure when his lover’s weight settled down on top of him. It used to be a struggle to find the right balance of being weighed down versus able to breathe with his asthma, but now he could take him easily and did so gladly. It was bliss beyond belief to just let Bucky shut everything else out with his weight and his scent and his presence.
It really was bliss – and it was making him hard. Steve groaned softly, rolling his hips down into the mattress, then back against the ghost of his lover. Bucky grunted, then murmured, “Not tonight, Stevie. Sleep. You need that more.”
Steve whined but settled.
It took three more dreams for his subconscious to get the hint. Bucky finally lifted his shirt, pushed down his pants, and Steve kicked them off, then stretched and spread his legs.
Bucky cursed quietly, and JARVIS seemed to murmur faintly overhead. Then thick, hot fingers pushed into him, lubed him up and prepared him for Bucky’s cock. The ghost certainly took his sweet time about it, stretching his hole far more thoroughly than strictly necessary. But at last he heard the soft rip of a condom packet, the sounds of Bucky lubing up.
Mismatched hands – one warm and flesh, the other cold and metal – rolled him onto his back. Bucky loomed over him, blocking out everything else. His hair was longer, and his left arm seem to be covered in steel plating, but before Steve could really get a good look at him, Bucky pushed into him. After so long without, it felt so good that Steve almost came then and there. It was a near thing as it was – for Bucky, too, because he stopped above him, shuddering and panting.
“God, Stevie. You feel so good.”
Steve nodded quickly, swallowing, then gasped out, “More. Need you. Please. Need you so much.” He reached up to pull the other man down on top of him, and Bucky groaned and started to thrust.
Bliss. Bucky moved inside of him, and it was like coming home, all heat and friction and pleasure sliding through his veins. He tightened around Bucky, who groaned again. “Steve – God – Steve, ‘m not gonna last if you keep-” He cut off with another moan, arching above the other man when Steve clamped down again, flexing around him.
“C’mon, Buck!” the blond gasped, thrusting down onto him, “Give it to me – need you!”
The other man moaned again, then braced himself and started driving hard. Though it hadn’t actually been that long for him since he’d had Bucky inside him, Steve came as quickly as if it had been the full seventy years, clutching Bucky close and frantically rutting against him. Bucky matched him, hissing through gritted teeth, then moaned, “Steve…”
Steve went slack under him, sighing in pleasure, and let his eyes droop shut.
When he woke in the morning, he was alone, clean, and still in his pajamas.
The dreams continued, Bucky’s ghost sometimes coming to visit him while he slept, sometimes making love the way they used to, sometimes just curling together under the sheets as if Steve was still ninety pounds soaking wet. Bucky liked looking at him, touching his face, kissing him slow and warm. Steve liked it, too – liked it even more when Bucky did it while buried to the hilt inside of him, their bodies pressed together so close that he thought he felt the ghost’s heartbeat.
He was riding the other man’s cock when he discovered the truth, a slow and filthy grind in his lap while Bucky laid back on the thousand-thread count sheets, panting under him and gripping his hips, helping him move. Bucky’s cock ground over his prostate with every pass, and Steve clenched around him every time, both of them groaning.
A barely-there rustling had both of them tensing even as they kept moving, and Steve sighed softly. He’d been having such good dreams for so long that it was only a matter of time before one of them became a nightmare. It looked like that was tonight.
The shield was pressed into his hands – and then he was throwing himself off the bed to fight masked soldiers who somehow made it into the Tower and up to his floor. He glimpsed a familiar symbol – ah. HYDRA. They took Bucky from him twice; he would enjoy making them pay.
But Bucky didn’t disappear the way he usually did in these dreams; he fought at Steve’s side like he’d never left, deflecting bullets with his metal arm the way Steve did with the shield. He’d pulled two pistols from thin air, it seemed, and every bullet dropped an enemy agent.
Watching him fight had always been one of Steve’s favorite pastimes, now surpassed by watching him fight naked. He slowed to get a better look-
-and took a bullet to the side. Steve staggered with a gasp at the explosion of pain, and he heard Bucky snarl. He recovered quickly, but by then all the HYDRA agents had been taken down. Most were even still alive.
‘I'm awake,’ Steve realized, a hand clamped over his wounded side, watching as Bucky yanked a cell phone from his discarded clothes and barked into it.
‘I’m awake. He’s here, real, alive.’
“You’ve thought you were dreaming for how long now?”
“Don’t give me that,” Steve growled, shoving Bucky back onto his bed and straddling his hips, “I watched you fall to what I thought was your death seventy years ago!”
“Well when you put it like that-” Bucky cut off with a groan when Steve sank back down on his cock, and he gripped the other super soldier’s hips to help him ride.
And ride Steve did. He knew he was awake now, and he was determined to milk the other man’s cock for all it was worth. He wasn’t actually sure how long they fucked, only that he was coming down from his third orgasm when JARVIS finally spoke up. “My apologies, Captain, Sergeant, but Director Fury is demanding your presence for a debrief.”
“Twelve presumed HYDRA agents infiltrated Avengers Tower and arrived on Captain Rogers’ floor at approximately 0345 hours,” Bucky grunted, now on top of Steve but still thrusting into the other super soldier, winding him up again, “Going by the restraints they had with them, their goal was to capture rather than kill. They were not prepared for me to be here as well. All hostiles neutralized. One injury, GSW, Captain Rogers’ abdomen, right side, not serious. End of report.”
“…I will relay that.”
“Good.” Bucky lifted one of Steve’s legs onto his shoulder and drove even harder, finally growling out his orgasm.
Chapter 5: Non-Canon BDSM AU
Everything I know about BDSM has come from fanfiction, but at least it's not 50 Shades.
Steve’s hands were starting to shake again. It hadn’t actually been that long since their last session, but the stress of forging the new alliance between families was getting to him.
He thought he was being subtle, but the Soldier noticed everything. More importantly, so did Steve's wife. After everyone else had gone, Peggy got up and shrugged on her coat. “Angie has a show tonight,” she said casually, “I’m going to see it and then take her out to dinner. Soldier, please tend to my husband.”
The Soldier inclined his head in acknowledgement even as Steve protested, “I don’t need it, I’m fine-”
But when push came to shove, when the Soldier’s metal hand came down to grip the back of his neck, his eyes rolled back and he fell to his knees at the Soldier’s feet, shuddering with relief and desire.
Peggy raised an eyebrow and smirked just a little bit. “I’ll have my phone on me, so please let me know if anything comes up. I should be home around midnight.”
“Acknowledged,” the Soldier rumbled. He waited until Peggy had gone, then said, “Come.”
Half-dazed, Steve followed obediently behind the Soldier and sank to his knees again when they arrived in the playroom. It looked like an ordinary bedroom – if an ordinary bedroom had dozens of locked cabinets filled with enough sex toys to stock a shop and a secret passage leading to another room with more specialized BDSM gear. Though he was naturally very submissive, Steve rarely needed such extreme measures as long as he was taken down often enough, and to the Soldier’s practiced eye, he didn’t need it now. Just something “light” to steady him and let the stress bleed away.
But first, punishment for trying to deny himself. It had to be harsh enough to get the point across, to serve as punishment, but not so harsh that it would negatively affect him tomorrow. Steve had an image to maintain with the other crime families; some of them were still old-fashioned and refused to do business with submissives, even one who had the Winter Soldier at his shoulder.
The Soldier’s eyes drifted around the room for a moment. Nothing fit. The paddle was too soft, the whip too harsh, and the riding crop would set the wrong tone. It would have to be…
The Soldier opened the box sitting on one of the cabinets, took out the supple leather collar within, and buckled it around Steve’s neck with gentle yet efficient movements, then said, “Assume the position.”
Steve shuddered, recognized the tone. He rose and stripped, carefully folding and otherwise storing his clothes in the closet so they wouldn’t wrinkle. Then he braced himself against the end of the bed, legs spread slightly.
“You are the head of this family, it is true,” the Soldier said, carefully removing the weapons attached to his belt, “but by denying yourself, you could put us all in jeopardy. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Steve gasped, and his whole body shuddered when he heard the tell-tale sound of the Soldier’s belt being unbuckled and drawn through the loops.
“Count,” he said, folding the belt in half, and then he brought it down.
His prosthetic arm (upgraded courtesy of their “tech dealer” Tony Stark) was just as finely honed a weapon as the rest of him, but unlike his flesh, it never tired. By the time he deemed Steve punished enough, he was bright red from the small of his back to the insides of his knees, and tears were rolling down his face amidst gasping sobs. But he had kept his count and not flinched from the strikes, so when the Soldier laid the belt down, he said, “Good boy. Now you may choose: do you want to suck me, or do you want to be fucked?”
It took Steve a minute to make himself understood. “Suck,” he managed, tears starting to slow, “I want to suck you, sir.”
“On your knees, then.”
Steve turned and nearly collapsed, caught at the last second and lowered the rest of the way. He looked up and watched, panting getting heavier, as the Soldier unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock.
A whine burst out of Steve at the sight. Whether it was chance or the genetic engineering that had gone into making him, the Soldier’s cock was enormous, long and thick, and it always stretched him just right, whether it was in his mouth or his hole.
The Soldier cupped his head with his metal hand and pulled him in, guiding his cock with the other. Steve kissed the tip, then swallowed him down, moans muffled by the heavy flesh.
It was almost a mirror of how they’d met. After the fall of the Soviet Union and the destruction of Department X and the Red Room, the Soldier had been cast adrift, half out of his mind even as he worked as a hired gun. Eventually he’d gotten a call from one of his old students, now going by Natasha Romanoff. She’d joined up with a crime family based in New York City, headed up by a submissive who was too much for even her to handle, and would he mind coming to take a look?
So he had come, if only to meet this submissive that not even one of his best students could take care of. He had arrived to find both Natasha and Peggy in the middle of trying to manage a sharp drop, one too severe for either of them to bring Steve through alone. With Steve’s hazily-given permission, the Soldier had taken over and carried him through with a metal hand gripping the back of his neck as he knelt at the Winter Soldier’s feet, and a firm voice reciting Russian fairy tales he used to tell the girls in the Red Room.
When it was over, he’d received an enthusiastic blow job as a thank you (which he’d insisted hadn’t been necessary, as he’d been on the cusp of Dom drop himself) and an offer to join the family.
He’d taken it and never looked back.
The Soldier rolled his hips into Steve’s mouth, sighing in pleasure at the wet heat and suction, the tongue lapping at his tip to taste every drop of precome. His thrusts slowly started getting deeper and rougher as he approached the edge, and he growled, “You may come when I do.”
Steve moaned again around his cock, and that was enough to set the Soldier off, groaning as he spilled down Steve’s throat. The submissive swallowed him greedily, sucking hard like he could pull more come out, then took his cock all the way in, choking himself on it and shuddering as he came, eyes rolling back.
The Soldier waited until Steve released his soft cock to start cleanup, going to the “Care Cabinet” for a washcloth, water, and a first aid kit. He wiped Steve down, then laid him out on the bed and smoothed cream over his backside to alleviate the coming soreness and bruising. Steve hummed and arched into the touch, and the Soldier obliged him, petting a bit more and offering him a water bottle as he came down.
“In order to take care of us, you must first take care of yourself. Do you understand, kitten? You eat when you're hungry, sleep when you're tired, and let me take you down when you need it. Do you understand?”
Steve nodded weakly and managed a raspy, “Yes, sir.”
The Soldier smoothed a hand over his collar, then gripped him gently and said, “Good.”
Chapter 6: Non-Canon Shrinkyclinks ABO
The Soldier was a bad habit.
Steve would like to say he hesitated every time he got the text, thought it through every time “I’m in town” popped up on his phone. He’d like to say that, but the fact was he canceled plans the instant the Alpha showed up on radar, materializing inside his apartment like he’d never left.
The Omega felt the first drop of slick leak from his hole as he fought to walk slowly down the street towards his apartment, where the assassin and part-time thief waited. It was hard, though, so hard; he hadn’t exactly fucked his way through the city, but the Soldier still had the best dick he’d ever had the pleasure of sitting (or sucking) on.
Steve resolutely took the stairs up to his apartment one at a time, trying not to let on his eagerness. He fumbled for his key, then stepped inside, shaking off the snow and toeing off his boots.
The Soldier was sitting in the recliner in the corner that gave him the best sight lines, head leaned back with his eyes closed, an assault rifle leaning up against the side of the chair. He lifted his head when Steve entered, and relaxed with a hint of a smile when he saw the blond.
That smile widened slightly when he noticed the Omega’s gaze locked on his crotch, and he spread his legs in invitation.
The next thing Steve knew, he was kneeling in front of the Alpha, mouthing at his cock through his tac pants and whining at the familiar, intoxicating scent. He fumbled for the man’s zipper, then pulled out his cock, half-hard but filling rapidly. He nuzzled the base as he fisted the head, and moaned along with the Soldier when he felt the first drops of precome slick his hand.
Metal fingers threaded through his hair, and he obliged the wordless demand, lifting up and swallowing the Soldier down. His cock laid heavy on the Omega’s tongue, and Steve moaned again, starting to lick and suck. He moved slowly, languidly, relishing the weight, the fullness in his mouth. It had been longer than usual since the assassin’s last visit, and he wanted.
The Alpha seemed content to let him go at his own pace, playing with his hair and stroking his back and shoulders, massaging what parts of Steve he could reach. The Omega felt it only vaguely, more focused on the hot flesh in his mouth and the knot just starting to plump out at the base.
“Ease off, kitten,” the assassin murmured, tugging on his hair, “You need to breathe.”
Steve disagreed but pulled back anyway, laying his head on the Alpha’s thigh and panting, admiring the man’s thick cock glistening with spit. He couldn’t help but whimper and lick at the knot, and the Soldier let his head fall back with a muffled groan.
Once his breathing evened out, Steve swallowed him back down, focusing on making the Soldier come. He slid all the way down and let the Alpha’s knot expand behind his teeth, moaning aloud when he felt the Soldier’s cock jerk and spill down his throat.
The Alpha hissed through gritted teeth, then relaxed, still stroking Steve’s hair as they waited for his knot to deflate. Steve breathed heavily through his nose, panting and whining a little at the scent of Alpha musk, slick soaking the seat of his jeans. When he was finally free to do so, he reluctantly sat back.
The Soldier picked him up so easily and carried him into his bedroom, stripping Steve’s clothes off like it was nothing and leaving them scattered on the floor.
The assault rifle was propped up against the nightstand next to the bed. Then Steve was laid out across the mattress, cock leaking onto his stomach. The Soldier just looked at him for a time, watching hungrily, then stripped off his own clothes, baring hard, scarred muscle. Steve sighed and spread his legs for the Alpha, whose cock was already starting to chub up again; he wanted the man inside him.
The Soldier lifted the Omega’s hips to better access his hole, stretching him deliciously with those metal fingers before wrapping his legs around that muscular waist and sliding home.
Steve arched and cried aloud at the stretch, grinding down as hard as he could on the fat cock buried inside him. It had been so long, longer than he liked going without (even though this was more for the Soldier’s pleasure than his own). Yet the Alpha seemed to feel the same because he started rutting hard right away, grunting quietly with every rough thrust. Steve clawed at his back, gasping and shouting and pleading for more, harder, faster.
“Greedy kitten,” the Alpha growled but obliged, folding him in half and driving harder his knot starting to swell again.
It didn’t take Steve long to come after that, wound up as he was. The Soldier followed him over, his knot tying them together as seed spilled into the Omega. Steve sighed and shivered, head rolling loosely at the wash of wet heat inside him, going lax against the sheets while the Alpha braced himself above him. The Soldier rutted a little with every fresh wave of come, and Steve shuddered a little each time.
When the Soldier’s knot went down, he slipped out of bed to check the perimeter again, then returned with a wet washcloth to clean him up. Steve tried to stay awake, but he was warm and satisfied and couldn’t help but drop off to sleep.
The Soldier was gone when he woke, as always, no sign that he had ever been there aside from slick-soaked sheets and the come dripping from Steve’s hole. And also as always, his bank pinged him to let him know that he’d been paid for the night, plus a bonus and a message – “I’ll be back tonight.”
Chapter 7: ABO Shrinkyclinks TWS AU
Less smut in this one; vague plot?
The Soldier was already in the chamber when Steve was shoved through the door, the heavy bolts shot behind him. The super soldier was already panting heavily, BDUs tented around his cock, rut pheromones so thick they made Steve feel like he was swimming through them. The very first whiff made him groan aloud.
HYDRA hadn’t expected to find the Soldier’s True Mate when they snatched Steve off the streets to service his rut, but they certainly weren’t complaining, not when threatening Steve with harm kept the Soldier in line better than that Goddamned Chair ever could. Steve had only actually seen him get put in it once, but that was enough.
A second after the bolts slid home, the Omega threw himself at his Alpha and buried his face in the other’s throat. Despite the high collar of the armored top and the mask perpetually covering the lower half of his face, his scent was still strong there, and despite the air filter in the mask, the Soldier liked tucking his nose into Steve’s hair and scenting him.
Right now he probably smelled like artificial heat; the injection site in the crook of his arm still stung. But it didn’t matter; fast as lightning, the Soldier put him belly down on the mattress in the corner and ground against him, growling. Steve arched up into him, trying to present, but the Soldier’s weight kept him pinned.
The super soldier seemed to realize that and hauled him up to rip off the scrubs HYDRA had put on him. Steve shivered in the cool air right before the Soldier blanketed him with his body once more, flesh fingers fumbling for his zipper.
Steve gasped when he felt the Soldier’s hot cock against him, and he spread his legs to expose his hole. The Soldier tested him, making sure he was loose enough, then nearly lunged forward, sheathing himself inside the Omega in one sharp thrust.
Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head, breath driven from his lungs. The Soldier was huge inside him, long and thick and almost too much but at the same time just right. It was bliss to have the assassin inside him again, more so when he started to thrust. The difference in their strength meant that he could only lie under the Alpha and take it, but it was still enough to make him come.
He wasn’t sure how long it took for the Soldier to knot him, only that he rode wave after wave of pleasure until the Soldier was still above him, their bodies locked together. When his seed finally finished spilling, the Soldier relaxed, and rolled them so that Steve was on top. He had to cant his hips to avoid pulling on the Soldier’s knot, but it stopped him from being crushed by the Alpha’s weight.
The Soldier folded his flesh arm under Steve’s lower back to provide support, and Steve managed to slur out his thanks.
They were tied for almost thirty minutes, long enough for a HYDRA agent to leave them food, water, and blankets, earning a quiet growl from the Alpha, a warning not to come any closer.
When his knot went down, the Soldier shifted Steve onto the mattress and retrieved everything. Steve’s artificial heat was much worse than the Soldier’s natural rut; the injection meant he had a much smaller refractory period than even the super soldier. If HYDRA hadn’t given him a blood transfusion from the Soldier in hopes of passing on a diluted form of the super serum, there was a good chance he wouldn’t have survived heats of such intensity.
The Alpha provided for him, helped him to the cell’s disgusting toilet, wiped him down, and forced him to eat a few bites of food and drink a few sips of water, before putting him on his belly again. Steve had discovered several ruts ago that he liked that position best, the Soldier’s weight over him, around him, inside him, shielding him from HYDRA. He groaned softly when the Alpha sank back into him, and clutched at the mattress’s edges.
A distant explosion made the Soldier jerk above him and go for his weapons. He’d apparently gone into rut in the middle of a mission, because HYDRA hadn’t disarmed him before locking him in the room, fortunately for them. The Alpha pulled his submachine gun from his back holster and aimed at the still-locked door, moving to shield Steve with his prosthetic arm.
An inaudible growl vibrated through the Soldier’s chest and into Steve’s back, making the Omega moan and cant his hips, clenching around the Alpha’s knot. An involuntary thrust pulled another moan from him before the Soldier stilled his hips, undoubtedly trying to wait out his knot so he could fight. Steve held himself as still as possible, trying to help the only way he could.
More explosions, getting closer… along with the distinctive whine of the Iron Man repulsors.
Steve shied further back under the Soldier and let the Alpha lie more heavily atop him, encouraged it even, to counter the panic rising in his throat. He’d prayed for rescue more times than he could count, but now that it was finally near at hand, he found he didn’t know what to do or how to feel. He was torn with indecision, caught between wanting to run toward the Avengers and wanting to stay buried under the super soldier’s comforting bulk.
Pounding footsteps in the hall. The door’s bolts were thrown back, the door itself swinging open –
The Soldier squeezed off a short burst, and caught the HYDRA agent full in the face. He toppled over, dead before he hit the ground, closely followed by his companion.
Good. Steve hated Rumlow and Rollins anyway. They had been every inch stereotypical knothead Alphas, and though they’d never laid hands on him, there had been a lot of unpleasant leering his way. He purred in contentment, and got an answering rumble from his Alpha.
At last, the Soldier’s knot went down, and he pulled out and zipped up, then helped Steve into his scrubs as best he could with only one hand, the gun still trained on the open door.
Yet when they made to exit the cell, the Soldier hesitated, looking first towards the sounds of battle, then down at Steve. But he reached a decision quickly and headed down the tunnel that led away from the battle and the base proper. He paused at the end of the hall and looked back.
Steve glanced toward the fight, then turned to follow.
The HYDRA base was a maze of tunnels under the city. Steve quickly got turned around, his sense of direction confused by his heat, but he was able to stumble along behind the Soldier despite the slick and come dripping down his legs. The Soldier was smelling powerfully of another wave of rut, but he still kept moving.
Steve lost track of time, focused almost entirely on putting one foot in front of the other, finally coming out of his fugue when his Alpha helped him into a (stolen) SUV, wrapping him up in a blanket in the back seat.
The motion of the car swayed him into a stupor, broken only once when the Soldier stopped to help him to a disgusting gas station bathroom, then forced him to eat and drink.
Steve wasn’t sure how long they drove, only that it was well after dark when they finally stopped. The Soldier briefly left him alone, then came back and carried him into the safehouse.
The safehouse looked like a simple farm – until the Alpha brought him inside. Then it became apparent that something was off – too much tech, too advanced, even though it was all covered in dust. Every modern convenience had been packed into the house, and probably under it, too; he glimpsed a flight of stairs leading down when the Soldier carried him into the bedroom.
The Alpha laid him down on the bed and left him alone again, no doubt securing the house. Steve managed to hobble to the bathroom on his own, then collapsed back on the bed and whined piteously for his Alpha. He heard the man growl quietly somewhere else in the house and shuddered at the sound. It was pure Alpha, a warning and a promise in one.
Steve heard a cool female voice say, “Security system activated, perimeter defenses online,” shortly before the Soldier entered the bedroom, still smelling of rut. The Omega moaned and squirmed out of his blanket burrito, spreading his legs and exposing the soaked seat of his scrubs.
In a heartbeat, the Soldier was kneeling on the bed, lifting both legs to one shoulder and sliding his scrub pants off just enough to expose him. Then he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans to take out his cock and pressed into Steve.
The Omega arched and gasped; after hours of nothing, not even his own fingers, being filled was bliss. He met the Alpha’s thrusts as best he could in that position, moaning aloud when he felt the Soldier’s knot start inflating inside him. “Yes,” he gasped out, “Yes – please!”
The Alpha growled above him and bent him deeper, thrusting harder. Steve could feel wave after wave of slick being fucked out of him, dripping down his legs and soaking the bedspread.
It didn’t take long for them both to come, the Alpha’s knot locking their bodies together. The Soldier held position above the Omega, giving him an opportunity to study the Alpha’s bare face for the first time.
He was familiar – very familiar – but Steve couldn’t for the life of him say where he had seen the man before.
But then heat and rut surged again and carried them away.
It took four days for their cycles to run their course, longer for Steve than the Soldier. At the end they were curled up in the mess they made of the bed and their clothes, stinking of sweat and sex.
Steve lay completely relaxed in the Soldier’s embrace, sighing at the throbbing of the Alpha’s knot, grateful that no HYDRA agents would come to tear them apart. It was nice just sitting on the Soldier’s cock, enjoying the stretch and the pulse of his heartbeat inside him.
The Soldier seemed to think so too, no longer throwing off distress or aggression pheromones, instead just radiating contentment and pleasure.
Still, Steve had to ask… “Are we safe here? Can we stay for a while?”
“For now,” was the raspy reply.
Chapter 8: Post-Battle WS/Steve Ficlet
“Good afternoon, Soldier.”
“Ready to comply.”
It didn’t happen often. Not every battle was fierce enough, tough enough, brutal enough to cause the shift, but it was hard to shake once it happened. It took days sometimes – once a week and a half – for the Winter Soldier to thaw enough for Bucky to return to himself, but after the first few times the Avengers figured out that he just needed “cognitive recalibration.”
But sedating him didn’t ever work and “percussive maintenance” (hitting him really hard on the head) was very likely to end in bodily harm for everyone involved, so Steve came up with another solution.
(“Came up with” – more like “stumbled upon by accident.”)
“Come with me.”
The Soldier followed without so much as a blink of protest, which made Steve cheer internally; sometimes the transition wasn’t smooth, wasn’t easy or complete, leaving the Soldier confused and hostile. But this time he stepped onto the quinjet with the other Avengers, sat where Steve directed, and cleaned his weapons on the flight back to the Tower without a word to anyone.
When they arrived, he followed Steve to their floor. “Put your weapons away in that room,” said Steve, pointing to what Bucky had turned into a micro-armory (compared to the official Tower armory, at least), “and then come find me.”
The Soldier nodded and disappeared.
Steve entered their room and stripped quickly, throwing his uniform into the hamper to be washed, then digging through the bedside table for the lube. By the time the Soldier stepped in, he had two fingers inside himself, stretching himself open for the Soldier’s cock. His own was mostly hard, more because of the thoughts of what was coming than any stimulation he’d given, and he could see the other super soldier’s tac pants starting to tent.
At last, he judged himself stretched enough, pulling his fingers out and saying, “Come here.”
The Soldier stepped up to the bed, and his arm’s plates rippled and recalibrated as Steve unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zipper. The plates shifted again when Steve got a hand on his cock, pulled him out and gave him a few long strokes with a lube-slick hand. Then Steve laid back and guided the Soldier into him.
The sniper shuddered above him, eyes squeezed shut, hands clamping down on his hips. He held himself rigid, but Steve could feel the slight twitches of his hips where he was fighting the urge to thrust. Steve gripped the edge of the mattress to hold himself in place and said, “Go ahead, Soldier.”
The Soldier pulled out and drove back in hard, setting a punishing pace right off the bat, biting his lips to muffle his groans. Steve had no such restraint, arching and crying out as the Soldier pounded him into the mattress. Even though he hated losing Bucky to the Soldier, even just temporarily, the Soldier always fucked him so well, made his back arch and eyes roll. This time was no different.
With the skill that made him one of the most dangerous snipers in the world, the Soldier found Steve’s prostate and nailed it just so, making him shout in pleasure and clench around the Soldier’s cock. The sniper groaned through gritted teeth and planted both hands on the mattress to thrust harder and faster still.
Both of them were getting close. Steve sacrificed his grip on the edge of the bed to jerk himself off. It didn’t take long, just a few strokes, and come spurted over his chest. The Soldier was right behind him, driving in hard one last time then stilling above him, his hips giving little restless jerks as he spilled inside the other super soldier.
After a minute, he let out a groan and pulled out to collapse next to Steve on the end of the bed. “You back with me, Buck?” Steve managed.
“Yeah…” Bucky sighed, “Yeah, I’m here.”
Chapter 9: Steve Rogers Time-Travel Selfcest feat. Dirty Talking about Bucky's Dick
Inspired by So Many Steves by Mom_Nicole (archiveofourown.org/series/1356253) and greenbergsays’s universe-swap, specifically the quote “a sewing circle of steves trading sex stories”.
Tony gave it to him as a joke. Steve knew it, Bucky knew it, everyone knew it. What else could it be? Tony just happened to have a 1930’s-style suit on hand for the gala – a suit that fit Steve and wasn’t Howard’s? Please.
But the instant he saw it, Steve recognized it. He inhaled quietly, body tensing – and clamping down around the plug Bucky had pushed into him after drilling him into the mattress earlier that morning. But he concealed his reaction and put on the suit even as his cock twitched between his legs. For a moment he debated bringing the shield – he didn’t remember seeing it, but then again he wasn’t actually sure what had caused the incident.
He hid the shield in the coat closet and slipped a fresh tube of lube into his pocket.
The gala was attacked, just as he thought they might be. The Tower immediately went into lockdown, sealing itself off from the attacking mage, and FRIDAY started evacuating the guests through subterranean tunnels as the Avengers went out to fight. Strange was on his way, but until then…
The fight went reasonably well – until Steve got hit with some blue beam and found himself in an alley in 1930’s Brooklyn. His disarray from the battle made him look like any other down-on-his-luck banker, making it easy to slip into the Depression-era crowd.
Almost without thinking, he found himself walking up the steps to his old apartment. The key was still under the brick where it was supposed to be, so he opened the door as quietly as he could and slipped inside.
Soft sniffling gave away the location of his younger self. It wasn’t that long after his mother’s death, he remembered, and this gave him what he needed to pull himself out of the black pit of despair that he’d fallen into.
And there he was. Eighteen-year-old Steve Rogers lying on his bed, back to the door, crying quietly. He sniffled and rasped, “Go away, Buck.”
“I’m not Bucky,” Steve replied.
His younger self nearly flew upright, whipping around to grab the bat by the bed – only to freeze, and stare, jaw falling open. Steve smirked just a little and walked – nearly strolled – slowly over to the bed. “You’re not dreaming,” he said, “you’re not hallucinating, and you’re definitely not dead. May I?” He gestured to the bed.
When his past self nodded, he sat carefully and lifted one of the other’s thin hands to his throat so he could feel his strong, steady pulse, blood running hot under his skin. When he released the other’s wrist, the slender hand began to roam, joined by the other. His younger self was visibly in awe at both the expensive suit and the muscle underneath, and Steve felt his cock twitch again, start filling out in his pants, even as he turned to more clearly face his younger self.
At last the other Steve’s eyes fell to his groin. Anyone else would have been hard-pressed, but with his enhanced hearing, the smaller blond’s whine was clearly audible. Steve squeezed himself through his pants and said, “Bucky’s bigger. Or he will be. Tell him how you feel; he won’t reject you. He feels the same, but he doesn’t want to pressure you by making the first move.”
“But – all those girls?” the younger Steve asked, reaching out, hesitating, then touching his older self’s cock through his pants. He shivered a little at the thick heat.
“Cover. For them and him. Most of them are girls who like girls and want to get their parents off their backs. That’s why he seems to go through so many of them so fast. Believe me when I say he’s only got eyes for you.” Steve let his head fall back a little and sighed as his past self palmed him more firmly. “You say the word, he’ll come running.”
The small hand started to stroke him through his dress pants, and Steve obliged his younger self, unbuckling, unzipping, pulling himself out.
“Bucky’s bigger than this?!” his younger self gasped, eyes nearly bugging out of his head at the sight of their cock.
“He will be. He’s always bigger than us.” Steve tugged on his cock, bringing it to full hardness, and smoothed his thumb over the tip to spread the first drops of precome.
“Shit.” Oh, and Steve recognized that flex, that arch; he’d done it himself, many times. He knew what it meant.
“Come here,” he rumbled, and pulled the other Steve into his arms, legs spread over his lap, his thick cock curving against the younger man’s backside. The smaller blond groaned and ground down against him; he’d always been a cockslut, just like Bucky always said, even before he’d taken a cock. He shoved a big hand down the back of the other’s pajama pants and groped his younger self, which earned him another groan.
Steve knew what he liked – and would like – so he took control, tilting the other’s head back to kiss him. The other Steve gave as good as he got, never one to back down from a fight, but the elder Steve won by virtue of strength, experience, and knowing what they both liked. While he had the other distracted, he wiggled the lube out of his pocket.
“Strip,” he commanded, and his younger self made a face but slipped off his lap to do so. He took the opportunity to move the mattress to the floor; they didn’t need the bedframe’s creaking – or breaking – to give them away while they fucked. He smirked a little at the other Steve’s quiet inhale, shocked at the display of easy strength, and then picked him up and laid him out on the mattress again.
Despite his ill health, his younger self was not small, but he did have a hard time – well, getting hard. Steve leaned over and murmured, “Mind our breathing,” before swallowing him down. His younger self gasped, arching up before falling back, and Steve took advantage of his distraction to lube up his fingers and start working his younger self open. The younger Steve panted heavily, and the elder backed off when he heard the telltale wheezing that preceded an attack, despite the younger’s protests.
At last, Steve judged him loose enough and stood, pulling off his suit jacket to hang on a bedpost. He shed the rest of his clothes as well, pointedly turning to let the smaller blond admire the muscle revealed with every button undone. The other reached for him when he returned, and he lubed himself up generously before nudging the head inside.
The other Steve groaned quietly and panted out, “T-tell me… ‘bout us. ‘Bout Buck. What do we – uh – like? What does he like?”
“Half the fun is finding out with him,” Steve answered, circling his hips, starting to rock deeper, “but… we like him on top of us. He shuts out the whole world, lets us just feel without worrying about being seen as weak because we love cock. And we do love cock - his cock – want it inside of us always – doesn’t matter where. Uh – uh – uh – our mouth, our ass-” He shook his head. “-and his come – when you taste it, when you feel it dripping out of you, you’ll understand. Fuck!”
Steve clenched down on the plug inside him as he came, his seed slicking his younger self’s insides, before continuing to thrust, fighting through the overstimulation. “Even if we don’t come – even if we don’t even get hard – him coming inside us is its own kind of satisfaction – we made him come, we have his pleasure.” He kissed his younger self again, then started trailing marks down his slender neck. “We like him staying inside of us after he comes, we like feeling him soften up. Sometimes he gets hard and fucks us again.”
“That – happens?!”
“Sometimes. After this,” Steve gestured to his body, then reached down to stroke his younger self’s cock, “we can do that, too. Many more times. Buck made us come ten times, once.”
There was a barely audible gasp from outside the bedroom. Steve flicked his gaze toward the door for a second, but his younger self didn’t notice. “Ten-?!” he gasped.
“Oh yes. The last few hurt, but they were so good, too. So sweet, because he gave them to us.” His hips jerked at the memory, and he groaned.
That had been after Bucky’s return and recovery. On Steve’s first birthday afterwards, Bucky had trussed him up and forced orgasm after orgasm out of him, one for every decade he’d been alive (since one hundred and even thirty-three were unrealistic, even for them). It had been the best kind of torture, unable to escape the pleasure brought by his lover’s mismatched hands.
Steve came again, added more lube, and kept going. “He fucked me… just this morning. Three times, and… he put a plug in me to hold me open… for whenever we do it next.”
Younger Steve’s hands groped for his ass, and he guided one to the plastic base between his cheeks. The other shuddered when he felt it under his fingers, eyes rolling. “I-I want…”
“I know, I know.” He cupped his younger self’s cheeks again and kissed him, mindful to let him breathe; he didn’t yet have super soldier lung capacity. “Soon,” he whispered against the other’s lips, “soon. It’ll be worth it.” He kept stroking and pinched his nipples a few times, but they weren’t as sensitive as they were post-serum.
Steve shifted his hips and started driving straight at his younger self’s prostate instead of scraping over it. “Come on. I got two more in me. I want you to come with me on this next one.”
The other Steve whined and bucked into his grip, then back onto his cock. He was still so deliciously tight, his hole wet and messy from a mix of lube and come, and he held tight to his older self with all of his fragile strength as he was mercilessly fucked.
Steve recognized the signs when his younger self started approaching the edge – gasping just like that, legs quivering just so, hips jerking down onto the cock buried inside him, eyes rolling back… He kissed the other to muffle his cry as he came, cock spitting come over his quivering belly. Then it was his turn to orgasm, spilling fresh come inside the smaller man, then holding himself still, letting the other come down.
Only when his younger self went slack under him did he shift positions. Steve braced an arm against the mattress, hiked his younger self’s hips up to give him a better angle and support his back, and started driving in hard, pounding the other into the mattress.
“Fuck!” the other Steve nearly shouted, shaky arms wrapping around his neck, clutching at his shoulders, “Yes, yes, fuck! Harder, harder-!”
“So good, isn’t it?” Steve nearly purred, rutting even harder, “Just letting me take our pleasure. Imagine how good it is with Bucky – us already come or even unable to get hard at all, and him wanting us too much to stop, to pretend, to leave and jerk off in another room and act like he’s not thinking of us.” He grunted harshly when the other Steve’s muscles clamped down around him like a vise, creating an even tighter channel for him to fuck into. “Yes, just like that – uh, uh, uh, fuck!”
His younger self pulled him down to kiss him again, their tongues sliding together, and that was enough to set him off, hips jerking as he spilled his final load. He stayed buried inside his younger self even after he finally went soft, waiting until the other passed out to carefully pull back, his cock slipping free, lube and come spilling out after him.
As he had thought, Bucky was seated stiffly on the couch, fists clenched on his knees, cock pitching an impressive tent in the front of his pants. He looked up when Steve emerged, eyes going wider and fists going tighter. Steve smiled and padded over, cupped his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss.
After a second’s hesitation Bucky took control, reeling him in with a hand on his neck, licking into his mouth like he could taste both Steves on him. When he pulled back to breathe, Steve murmured, “Come with me.”
Bucky stumbled to his feet while Steve moved into the absolutely minuscule kitchen, found a rag so old it was almost see-through, and dampened it to quickly wipe himself off. Then he rinsed it off, wrung it out, and headed back to the bedroom.
The brunette hesitated behind him in the doorway, staring. The young Steve on the mattress was still out like a light but was also visibly satisfied and well-fucked. Steve handed him the rag, and he moved automatically to take it and kneel next to the mattress. His hands moved tenderly and surely over the other Steve’s skin, wiping him clean of sweat and come.
Then he hesitated again, glanced at Steve. When he nodded, Bucky carefully lifted a slim leg to expose his hole – and inhaled sharply at the sight of him puffy and leaking come, cock jerking in his pants. He had to be in pain by now, but he still kept tending his Stevie like he was only thing in the universe that mattered.
Steve smiled. He’d been on the receiving end of that look too many times to count, both before and after the ice. Then his gaze turned considering. He reached back to pull out his plug.
Bucky looked up at the noise. “What, you want me to wipe you down too?”
“You can, if you want,” Steve hummed, reaching for the lube and slicking up his fingers again, “Or, instead of jerking off on the couch, you can fuck me.”
He looked up in time to see Bucky’s eyes go black with lust, hips jerking once. But he forced himself to continue wiping his Stevie down, then covered him up with the blankets and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Steve quickly lubed himself up, then Bucky when he unbuttoned and unzipped.
Then he rolled over onto all fours, braced on his forearms with his legs spread. Bucky had the presence of mind to not just shove in, but Steve still felt the helpless little jerks of his hips that he couldn’t quite control, coupled with muffled groans. His cock didn’t quite split him open the way post-HYDRA-bullshit Bucky’s did, but it was still a perfectly satisfying stretch. He sighed and clenched down around him, which made Bucky lose what control he still had.
He slumped on Steve’s back, arms looped around his torso, relying on him to hold them both up, and started rutting into him, panting against his shoulder blade. “Fuck – fuck – let me -”
“Don’t worry about me,” Steve said, catching Bucky’s hand as he groped for his cock, “I’ve already come four times. This is for you.” He tightened around the other man’s cock again, earning a groan and a sharp thrust. His own cock gave a valiant twitch but still stayed stubbornly limp, but as he’d said, Bucky moving inside him brought its own kind of satisfaction.
Steve could tell when he started getting close – his breathing got harsher, his thrusts shorter and sharper – and one last tight squeeze was enough to send him over the edge. Bucky buried his face in his back to muffle his groan, hips jerking as he spilled inside him. Steve had a brief flash of a thought – this Bucky’s come mixing with his future self’s inside him – and had to shove it away before his cock started doing more than twitching.
After a minute or so, Bucky pulled out and pushed his plug back in, then wiped him clean before flopping back onto the floor with his dick still out. Steve snickered a little, then cleaned him up too and straightened his clothes. Bucky was half-asleep by that point, but he still managed to mumble a “Wow,” when Steve redressed and then lifted the mattress back onto the bedframe with his younger self still on it.
Then he picked Bucky up and carried him out to the couch, laying him out and covering him with a threadbare blanket. “If you remember nothing else, remember this: we love you. Always,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to the younger man’s forehead.
Then he settled in to wait.
About twenty minutes later, a green-tinged portal sparked open on one wall, and Strange stuck his head through, looking around and raising an eyebrow.
Bucky stirred, lifted his head, and blinked at the portal. “Now that is cool,” he mumbled and let his head fall back again.
Steve snickered as he got up. “Go back to sleep, Buck. You might as well be drunk.”
“Fuck off,” he growled back, waving a middle finger in the blond’s direction, before dropping off again.
Steve stepped through the portal and into his Bucky’s arms. “Welcome home,” the brunette murmured in his ear.
“So, Capsicle, was your involuntary jaunt into the past fun? Did you take in the sights, paint the town red?”
“I went to visit my past self, Tony. This had already happened for me.”
“And? How’d Short Blond and Asthmatic take it?”
“I’d say he took it really well.” He exchanged a look with Bucky, who grinned knowingly. This, at least, he remembered.