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“Steve.” There’s a violent tremor in Bucky’s voice, “Steve, cover your ears!”
Cover my ears? Steve frowns, “Wha-?” Bucky dives off his surfboard, his hands flung out, reaching for his face.
A single note slices through the air, reverberating into the water. Steve’s breath hitches. One dreadful note. One is all it takes. Then Steve’s mind is drifting away, into the blankness of a staticy abyss, far, far, far away. Bucky grabs him, sloshing water over his shoulders. Belatedly, Steve registers there are hands around his ears.
“ Stevie, no…” Bucky sounds as if he’s underwater. Perhaps he is. They are in the ocean, after all.
Earlier…
Bucky stares out at the great vastness of glittering blue. Waves crash down upon water-hardened, beige sand as he crushes his toes over soft, firm granules. Listening to the cry of gulls, he watches the waves spread out, engulfing seashells and sandcastles in its path. The frothy, white foam does not reach him. He waits. The next wave is coming, a shimmering crest curling over itself, smashing over the tanned sand, and flattening out over the expanse of the shore. White, foaming bubbles froth over his feet, submerging his ankles and knocking his lax consciousness out of its stupor; although glistening in the rays of the sun, the water is still shockingly frigid. Draining back, the water smooths over the sand, and he can feel its soft tug on his feet as they sink deeper into the waterlogged granules. Along with the next wave, he’s hit with a peculiar sense of lightness; his stresses and concerns drain away with the surging water, washing away all his worries. He breathes deeply, allowing a sea-salt breeze to flood his nose.
Distantly, he hears a flutter of fabric—probably his friend Steve flinging down his striped beach towel. Dragging his eyes away from the azure body of water, his suspicions are confirmed: Steve, a few yards away, is currently anchoring the towel to the sand with a dotted umbrella. His blonde hair appears more golden in the sunlight. Bucky’s treacherous eyes flicker down to the rest of Steve’s body - to the deliciously corded muscle of his biceps as he fumbles to put the umbrella in place, to the solid abs, down to the V of his hips, to the bulge of his calves. Bucky remembers the times he had defended Steve when he was bullied because of his small body, but after puberty the bullying dwindled down and died out. Of course, Bucky was happy with this; his skin crawled, his blood boiled whenever he saw someone picking on his best friend. But sometimes, Steve’s sudden growth spurt makes things - for lack of better word - harder . Mouth suddenly dry, Bucky rips his gaze away when Steve catches his wandering eyes.
Steve, joining Bucky’s side, hisses about the cold as the next wave surges over their feet. Bucky sends him an amused glance, and after a moment, Steve relaxes and turns to him, “Buck, did you ever end up telling me what type of superhuman you are?”
“What?” Bucky utters, avoiding his ocean gaze, “N-no.” It’s been a few weeks since they found out they were both superhumans. He was kind of hoping Steve would forget it. He can’t tell Steve what he is. He just can’t . Being the son of a siren is something he’s been ashamed of for his entire life. He can’t bear to tell him that he’s half siren—that his ancestors fed off of innocent sailors to survive. That they did not think twice before mercilessly devouring their poor souls. That they sung them to starvation. That-
“C’mon, I told you mine,” Steve continues, oblivious to Bucky’s inner turmoil. He’s practically buzzing with curiosity as he leans onto the balls of his feet and back onto his heels. “How bad can it be?”
Bad. Horrifyingly bad. The baddest of bad. “Not that bad,” Bucky exhales, releasing the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Can’t you just tell me, then?” Steve’s eyes flicker over to Bucky’s. He holds Steve’s gaze, his heart picking up its pace as the seconds slip by. Is he really about to tell Steve? Can he? He opens his mouth; the words I’m half siren is on the tip of his tongue.
“No, sorry,” he finds himself saying. He can’t . Something within the cavity of his chest shrivels up and clenches, “Not now,” his voice cracks. He wishes he could trust Steve. He wishes he didn’t have to hide. He wishes he wasn’t a coward. That's exactly what he is: a coward.
“Hey,” Steve must pick up on the shift in his mood, because there’s a gentle touch on his wrist. It’s warm— of course it’s warm. Steve is always warm; he’s a descendant of the fire dragons, known to be big-hearted, kind creatures, born from the purest flames. Sometimes Bucky wishes he could be something like that instead of a wretched half siren. “Sorry I pushed,” Steve’s voice interrupts his self-deprecation, “I’ve just… I’ve never met another superhu-” he cuts himself off. Bucky blinks owlishly at him. Shaking his head, Steve sighs, “forget it.” He tilts his head towards the sea, “Wanna go for a surf?”
***
Surfing has always come naturally to Bucky. The board firm below his feet, the thrill of the waves, the spray of salt water on his calves, the pleasantly warm rays of the sun on his shoulders, a sea-salt breeze whipping his hair—these are all things he’s familiar with. A slow grin spreads across his face as he finds himself at ease.
“Enjoying yourself over there?” Steve drawls, voice distant, blended with hints of envy. He’s fallen into the ocean about four times by now. This’ll be the fifth. Currently, he’s bobbing in the water, resting his thick arms upon his surfboard Azula , which is covered in bright blue fire-designs. He remembers buying Steve’s board with him in a dim-lit surf shop. Steve had been bright-eyed, bubbling with excitement when he named it Azula, after the ruthless fire princess from one of their favorite cartoons. Bucky hasn’t fallen yet, but that’s only because he has a magical advantage; being half siren gives him some water wielding ability. When he expresses this to Steve, without disclosing his superhuman classification, Steve’s jaw drops, incredulous: “That’s cheating! You can’t use magic!”
“It’s not cheating if it’s part of who I am,” Bucky quips, which earns him a deadpan from Steve.
Then Steve’s eyes widen with realization, “Hey, so does that mean your superpowers are water-related?”
Bucky manipulates the water around him to push himself closer to Steve, “Yes? But that’s the only hint I’m giving you.” Steve begins whining, but Bucky drowns him out because a gray cloud glides over them, draining the bright landscape from the sweltering rays of sunlight. A sudden, monochrome filter crawls over the beach, turning the ocean dark indigo instead of bright blue. The weather forecast didn’t say anything about clouds, and yet the sky is only getting darker by the second. When he sees the familiar, heart-stopping ripple in the smoothness of the sea, he inhales sharply.
“Steve,” his voice wavers, “Steve, cover your ears!”
Steve frowns, his eyes metallic in the bleak lighting, “Wha-?”
Bucky leaps off his surfboard, his heart rhythm spiking. Swiftly swimming over to Steve, he thrusts his hands out to cover his ears, but it’s too late; a beat before his hands cover Steve’s ears, a single note pierces through the air, echoing through the rippling waves. Steve’s breath hitches. One dreadful note. One is all it takes.
“Stevie, no…! ” The haunting tune continues. Bucky whips his head towards the source, and a tight ball of bitter anger coils in his chest. He knows that mass of inky curls, he knows those glittering obsidian eyes, he knows the skin-prickling gleam of her hooped, silver earrings. It’s his distant cousin, Minerva, who’s known to bother other sirens. This is just another instance of how Minerva spends her down time. Shut up! Bucky wants to scream. Stop it! As if Minerva would listen to that. Somehow, Bucky will have to stop her before her spell gets to Steve.
Abruptly, Bucky feels a grip on his wrist—merciless fingers digging into his flesh, so different from the gentle touch from before. It draws his gaze back to Steve’s. Bucky gasps. Steve’s eyes are ethereal, electric blue, blazing with a savage, wild energy. His pupils are blown so wide that he can only see a sliver of burning teal encircling the black holes.
“Stevie, it’s me!” Bucky struggles to yank his wrist from Steve’s vice-grip. “It’s me, Bucky. Buck. Your friend!”
Steve’s eyes flutter shut. The hair-raising song is relentless, vibrating through the air, through the sea-salt water of the roiling waves. Steve’s breathing becomes harsh, his chest rising and falling unsteadily. Bucky swallows, his spine wrenching with anxiety.
“Let me go,” Steve rumbles, voice an octave lower. Bucky forces away the pleasant shiver that Steve’s voice elicits because there are other things he needs to worry about. His eyes widen in alarm; voice alteration means Steve is already under Minerva’s spell. Adrenaline blasting through his veins, Bucky rips himself away from Steve and rockets to Minerva, determined to put her despicable singing to an end. Luckily, half sirens can walk—sprint, in this case—on water.
When he’s close enough to Minerva, Bucky yells, “Stop it! He’s my friend!” Minerva doesn’t pay him any attention as she continues her eerie, hypnotizing song. Bucky turns back to check on Steve. His breath catches when he doesn’t spot him right away. A moment later, he realizes why: Steve is swimming towards them. Fast. Acting on impulse, Bucky forms a water-scythe and turns back to Minerva. “You leave me no choice,” Bucky cries, raising the scythe. Minerva smiles, scarlet lips stretching across sickly pale skin. Why is she smiling?
There’s a sudden impact—a tight grasp on Bucky’s ankle. Then, he’s sailing through the air in the opposite direction. His vision blurs, colors clashing together as his surroundings merge.
Sometimes he forgets the raw power of Steve’s physical strength. Steve’s part fire dragon; it’s no surprise Steve can throw him across the ocean like a ragdoll. But Bucky’s a superhuman too. Head spinning, he manages to pivot himself around. He can see Steve’s blur of golden hair in the distance. He’s too far. Steve will be trapped in Minerva’s clutches for eternity, if not killed first. Bucky’s panic-filled mind whites out as scales begin blooming along his legs, binding his skin together. It takes about ten seconds for him to transform into his full siren-form before he slingshots himself towards Steve and Minerva, swimming at inhuman speeds.
Facing Steve’s muscular back, Bucky wraps his arms beneath Steve’s and interlocks his hands behind his head. Then he dives down with a flick of his shimmering tail, delivering a powerful surge of water onto Minerva’s anger-twisted face for good measure. Steve, squirming in his slippery grip, shoots bursts of flame from his limbs. Despite being underwater, his flames still blaze hot for a few seconds before vanishing. Bucky winces as some of the explosive heat burns off a patch of glittering scales on his tail, but he clenches his jaw, tightens his arms, and dives deeper. Being underwater gives him an advantage; it’s his best way to win against a descendant of the fire dragons. Still, Steve holds out for about two more minutes in the soundless, deep sea before his body slackens, lifeless in his grip. Bucky blinks, and turns his slack body around to see that his eyes are closed and his face is softened, tranquil. Bucky forces himself to focus, and not think about how Steve’s eyelashes are perfectly curved above the porcelain-smooth skin of his face. Closing his own eyes, Bucky focuses on the sounds around him. All he can hear is the soft swishing of waves. No blood-chilling songs. Nothing from Minerva. Nothing but his own slowing heartbeat, drumming steadily in his chest.
Bucky rockets up back to shore, his tail dissolving around his legs, and immediately performs CPR on Steve. After thirty chest presses, Steve’s limp body is still as lifeless as before. “Steve?!” Bucky’s breathless, his vision blurring from unshed tears. Inhaling deeply, he tries CPR again. His heart pounds, panic lacing around the organ and squeezing. He won’t be able to forgive himself for drowning Steve with his bare hands. His voice is shrill, “Steve! Steve, wake up! ” Tears fall freely from his eyes as he collapses upon Steve, broken sobs erupting from him, “Fuck! Wake up, Steve, fucking-“ he chokes around a sob, “wake up, damnit, please .”
He killed Steve. He killed his best friend. He’s a monster . Strings of burbled apologies pour from his mouth. I’m a monster. I’m a monster. I’m a monster! He doesn’t hear Steve’s ragged coughs around the cacophony of voices screeching in his brain; instead he feels the puffs of air escaping Steve’s chest.
Blinking the tears away, Bucky gasps and springs upright. “Steve!”
Steve blinks, and Bucky feels dizzy with relief when he sees that his eyes have reverted back to normal, crystal-lake blue. He flinches when Steve’s hand comes up to his face to wipe away his tears. “Buck?” Steve rasps.
“Sorry,” Bucky sniffs, “I… thought I…” he inhales, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice, “I thought I drowned you.”
“Hey, hey.” Bucky’s heart jolts when Steve’s hand cups his face. “It’d take a lot more than that to kill me.” Bucky chuckles weakly. Steve smiles, before looking more grave. “You didn’t have a choice, Buck.” Steve’s thumbs smooth away his tears. Bucky swallows audibly and opens his mouth to respond, but Steve’s warm voice is running again, melting the chattering of Bucky’s nerves. “You saved me,” Steve continues, “thank you.”
Wide-eyed, he stares at Steve for a while - long enough for Steve to remove his hands from his face to look out at the sea. He admires Steve’s side profile - from the edge of his jaw-line to the delicious dip of his collarbone - for a moment before his thoughts catch up to him: Steve is… thanking him ? How? Why? He doesn’t deserve to have a friend like Steve. Not when he’s a siren. Sirens deserve pain and isolation and-
“Buck?” Steve’s eyes are baby blue, swirling with worry. They flicker down to his foreleg, “I hurt you, Buck,” Steve whispers, his eyes clouding with guilt. Bucky blinks, noticing the swell of red on the skin below his knee for the first time. When did that happen?
His hand comes up to cover the angry burn, “It’s nothing.” Steve eyes the burn with worry, “Don’t worry about it, Steve.” Steve nods solemnly, but traces of remorse still linger in his eyes. Bucky’s chest tightens. He can’t stand that kicked-puppy look on Steve’s face. He can’t stand Steve’s guilt when he himself is a siren. He can’t stand any of this anymore. “Steve,” Bucky blurts, hit with an overwhelming urge to tell Steve the truth. To tell Steve that he’s one of them, that the blood running through his veins belongs to that family of vile creatures. “Steve, actually, I… I have to tell you something.” Squeezing golden granules of sand with his fingers, Bucky’s knuckles turn white. It feels like he’s about to pass out from the light-headed feeling floating through his body. Distractedly, he bats off the few grains of sand that stick to his trembling fingers. “I'm a…” Bucky inhales deeply and resolutely stares at the shifting grains of golden sand, “I’m a s-” A warm hand clasps onto his clammy one. Bucky’s eyes flick to Steve’s concerned ones.
“Hey, it's okay, Buck,” his pale hand squeezes, “don't push yourself.”
“No, no, no ,” Bucky vehemently refuses. Steve deserves to know. He can't keep lying to Steve about this, and he’s sick of being consumed with self-induced guilt. Bucky clears his throat, “I have to tell you, Steve. I'm…” he takes a deep breath again and swallows thickly.
“I’m… a siren,” he says, scrunching his eyes shut, his voice a wisp, drowned into the roar of the tide, deafened by the blood angrily booming in his ears. He waits for what seems like a decade. Finally, he feels the puff of Steve’s voice. His eyes snap open. Steve’s lips are moving with speech, but Bucky can’t seem to hear anything over the rushing in his ears. And if Steve notices how his eyes linger on the pink curve of Steve’s lips, he doesn’t mention it.
“What?” His voice sounds warped to himself. He’s horribly covered in a layer of sweat, or so it feels.
Steve’s hand slides to his wrist and grips it reassuringly, “I said I know.”
“I—what?” Bucky’s heart feels like it’s about to pop out of his chest, “How?”
Steve blinks down at his lap before connecting their gazes. He shrugs, “I figured you must’ve been a siren if you could save me from one.”
Bucky frowns, “What do you m-”
“Minerva?” Bucky stares dumbly at Steve. Steve sighs, “ I was affected by her song, but,” he raises an eyebrow, “you weren’t.”
Bucky’s breath hitches, “O- oh .” Oh. Oh shit .
“Hey,” Steve continues, “Buck. It’s not something that you should feel ashamed about,” Steve’s eyes are steely, insistent.
“B-but… a siren , Steve.” Bucky can feel himself shaking. The sounds of the world are flooding back into his ears: the soft swirl of the waves, a distant croon of a seagull, the heart-stirring softness of Steve’s voice.
“Buck,” Steve’s voice is overflowing with warmth—dripping like golden honey, seeping into his skin. God, he wants to hear his name from Steve’s mouth again. His wish is answered a moment later, “Buck, you saved me,” Steve’s eyebrows furrow, his eyes glowing, “You saved me because you’re a siren.”
Bucky frowns down at their hands, “I—I don’t understand.”
“What?” Steve utters, “what don’t you-”
“Why aren’t you disgusted?” Bucky suddenly bursts, eyes stormy gray, “why aren’t you more—” Bucky pauses, before spluttering, “more freaked out?”
Hot tears spring to his eyes, and Steve clenches his jaw, “Buck, listen to me.” Warm, calloused thumbs wipe away Bucky’s tears. Steve waits until he meets his gaze, “It doesn’t matter if you’re a siren, or a faerie, or a stinky goblin, or a pig-eating troll.” Bucky laughs wetly before Steve continues, his breath shuddering over Steve’s face, “You’re still my best friend, okay? I’ll still love you for who you are.” Like a friend, is implied in Steve’s words and Bucky’s chest aches. “Nothing will ever change that.” Bucky takes a sharp breath. The clouds have parted, allowing rays of sunlight to stream through and dance on the crests of the ocean’s waves. In this light, Steve’s baby blues are tinted gold, spreading through those cornflower irises. When did they get so close? He’s close enough to see the reflection of his eyelashes in the round sea of Steve’s eyes.
“Steve,” Bucky whispers. He must imagine the way Steve’s eyes flutter shut. He must imagine the shiver that runs through Steve’s shoulders. Bucky’s dizzy from their proximity. Apart from Steve’s natural, fiery scent, he can smell the salt in the ocean water that clings to Steve’s ridiculously long lashes. Bucky’s skin tingles.
A gasp rips from Bucky’s mouth as Steve’s thumb drags lower to the corner of his lip, a soft pressure on his tear-stained face. Sparks of heat lighting up in Bucky’s ribcage, and he suddenly finds it hard to breathe.
“Buck,” Steve breathes against his lips, “Can I kiss y-mmph.”
Bucky surges forwards, smashing his lips over Steve’s. It’s almost painful at first, but Steve eases him down, his hands flying to Bucky’s face. Bucky grips Steve’s broad shoulders, dipping his thumb into the curve of Steve’s collarbone.
When Steve’s tongue slips into his mouth, Bucky’s head spins. Steve tastes like the salt from the ocean, but beneath that, he can taste the faintest crisp of sweet, smoked apples, and Bucky’s addicted to it. Steve breaks off to catch his breath, his high cheekbones beet red.
“Fuck,” Bucky heaves, his heart beating out of control. Gently, Steve pushes Bucky down in the sand and sends him a breathless grin. Then he’s closing the space between them again, sealing his cherry lips over Bucky’s. A searing blush burns across his face and down his neck when a moan escapes him; Steve’s hands have dived into his hair, tugging mercilessly. Then Steve’s peppering kisses down his neck, down to his collarbone. Bucky tugs on Steve’s soft locks of hair, errantly wondering how it’s already dried before realizing that he’s a descendant of the fire dragons, so there was probably some magic involved. His thoughts fly from his brain as Steve does something with his tongue, however. “Steve, Steve ,” Bucky whimpers, breaths stuttered. Steve hums into his skin as his hand trails down Bucky’s chest, over his hardened nipples, down his firm abdomen, resting on the jut of his hip. Fuck, just a little lower , Bucky shamelessly, internally begs. “Steve, please,” Bucky breathes, his eyes scrunched. He’s never felt such intense, toe-curling pleasure - pleasure that has him squirming, heat twisting in his gut.
“What is it, Buck?” Steve puffs, his breath cool against his wet skin. Bucky shudders at the feeling. The spot on his collar that Steve had just been worshipping with his tongue tingles. Abruptly, Steve straddles over him.
“ Fuck ,” Bucky groans; Steve’s length lays heavy above his own. Steve is hard. “Fuck, Steve .” Steve kisses him, slowly yet furiously, and Bucky sees stars . His arms wrap around Steve’s muscular back, and then uncontrollably drag down to Steve’s ass and squeezes firm globes of flesh through the thin material of his swim suit. Steve groans into his mouth, before grinding into Bucky. Eyes scrunching shut, Bucky whimpers, the breathy sound breaking from his mouth; a flood of heat pools low in his stomach.
It feels like he’s dissolving, sinking into the soft, warm sand beneath him. He loses sense of time as he kisses Steve with unbridled ardour, as he frantically drags his hands over every inch of glorious, muscled skin he can touch. The sun is still beating down on them, hot and heavy, when Steve shifts lower, pressing kisses down bucky’s peppering of chest hair, licking over a hard nipple, “ fuck ,” down to his abdomen, which ripples with pleasure. Bucky buries his hands into Steve’s golden hair as he peppers sweet kisses above the hem of his swim suit. His breath hitches as Steve dips a finger into the band of his shorts, sending his heart surging with pure elation.
Just when Bucky starts to hear angels singing somewhere in his subconscious, Steve interrupts the cacophony of pleasure-filled sounds roaring in Bucky’s ears with the simple question of, “Buck, is this… okay?” Steve is panting up at him, his long lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones, his mesmerized teal eyes dilated with lust, his cheeks flushed pink, down to his shoulders. Bucky almost jerks into Steve’s mouth uncontrollably, but there’s a hand on his hip holding him firmly in place, and Bucky realizes he’s completely at the Adonis’s mercy. Gasping, Bucky internally marvels at how he doesn’t come right there, right then. By the time he processes the statement - it takes more than a few beats - Bucky doesn’t know how to respond to such a statement soberly. His brain is fogged with a thick blanket of lust, so incoherent jumble of yes, and Steve , and please all fly from his breathless mouth - not in any particular order.
Bucky never pegged himself to be an exhibitionist, but when it suddenly occurs to him that anyone can walk in on Steve wrapping his lips around his leaking length, heat sears across his face as it pulses with excitement. Steve hums, evidently amused with the reaction. Steve works painstakingly slow, taking his time suckling the tip and dragging down to lick up his precome.
“God, Steve, your mouth ,” Bucky groans, his chest rising and falling swiftly, shiny with sweat. It’s like Steve was made for this. Steve gasps around Bucky, which has Bucky glancing down at him, and his breath halts when he notices that Steve’s hand has disappeared out of view, beneath him.
“Steve,” Bucky rasps, his heart pounding in his ears, “Steve are you…?”
Steve pops off wetly and pants over Bucky. His hot breath over his wet skin has Bucky shuddering, sparks zinging through his spine.
Steve releases a soft moan as his face scrunches with pleasure, “Yes,” he admits, his cheeks blooming rosy red across pale skin. Bucky’s jaw falls open as he tries to process the fact that Steve has been pleasuring himself this whole time, but his brain short-circuits. Steve’s hand is still working fast around himself as he lowers his head around Bucky once more, engulfing him in that warm, wet heat.
“Fuck,” Bucky hisses at the revelation, “Stevieee, no, let me…”
Steve pops off with an obscene sound again, and Bucky’s breath hitches. “S’okay, Buck. We can save that for next time.”
Bucky doesn’t have a chance to ask, next time? , because then Steve is deep-throating him, engulfing him in wet, agonizing heat, and Bucky can only groan out a breathless, “I-I’m close.”
Steve hums around him, the vibrations sending him into a blank, static bliss that envelopes his body, melts his bones, makes him see stars, and all he can hear is the thundering of the waves, pounding loud in his ears. His vision whites out as he comes, the tide of his ripping pleasure battering over him as Steve’s and his own warm streaks spill onto his abdomen, painting it with thick streaks.
A few beats later, he opens his eyes to Steve sprawled out over him, a soft, warm pressure on his sun-warmed skin. The sun is starting to set, but Steve is asleep on his chest. Bucky smiles softly.
“Stevie,” he pokes his nose, “hey,” Bucky whispers. Steve scrunches his nose, and Bucky’s heart flips. It strikes him in that moment, that he loves this man. He’s loved Steve since the beginning- since he walked in late to his history class in seventh grade, flustered and bright-eyed, to when he found him later in college, buried in a book in the library, his t-shirt stretching unfairly over his chest, wide shoulders. Those blue eyes were always, unguarded to him, expressive and open.
“Steve?” Bucky whispers. Steve stirs and cracks an eyelid open, and Bucky snuggles more into his human furnace. Now. He has to say it now. Before he cowers out.
“I love you.”
Steve’s breath hitches, but before Bucky can panic, Steve is cupping his face and kissing him senseless, until the breath is stolen from his lungs. He breaks off, pressing his forehead to Bucky’s and whispers, “I love you too.”
A smile slashes its way across Bucky’s face, golden glee bubbling in his chest, “Yeah?” He pants, his smile turning into a smirk as he brushes his thumb along Steve’s lower lip. He flicks his gaze up to Steve’s blown one, “show me.”
Steve does.