Work Text:
There was just enough time for a sketch before the daylight faded. The view out of the window stretched down the hill and out onto the lake behind the town. From this angle hardly any of the shell damage was visible. It was beautiful, and Steve was half happy with the sketch he’d started from his perch on the window ledge. He leaned against the frame, enjoying a rare moment of peace. He secretly hoped they’d get a few more hours downtime before communications came through.
There was a knock on the door. He’d left it ajar, and it was pushed open as Fuller poked his head into the room.
“Just reporting that there’s nothing to report, Sir.”
Not knowing how to respond to this unnecessary lack of an update, Steve, looked at him, waiting for more information. Fuller looked right back at him, perhaps for a little too long, before gaze dropped to the sketch pad in Steve’s lap.
“Oh, I’m just, capturing…” he gestured vaguely out the window, always a little unsure of how to talk about his hobby.
Seeing it as an invitation, the private came fully into the room and crept closer for a better view. Steve held the book up to the window to demonstrate the comparison of the landscape to what he’d been sketching.
“Captured beautifully so far. May I?” Fuller held out a hand and Steve obliged, passing over the book.
“My father didn’t let me go to art school,” He said, explaining his interest in the sketches, but not his reason for lingering in the room. If Steve had learned his first name, it escaped him now.
Fuller seemed much more at ease looking over Steve’s drawing now than when they’d met earlier. His nervousness was gone and he seemed more at home here in this quiet room than down with the rest of his platoon. There was a silent confidence under the surface, and an appreciation for something that felt mutual.
Steve watched him delicately flip through the work in his sketchbook. Those hands and wrists would make a beautiful sketch themselves, he thought. Looking at Fuller made Steve think of honey. There were gold tones in everything about him; in the brown of his eyes, the lighter parts of his hair, the darker notes in his skin. When he looked back up at Steve it caught him off guard.
“These are really beautiful, Captain Rogers.”
Steve got up from the window ledge. He still didn’t know what he was doing in here. ‘Just reporting that there’s nothing to report, Sir’. He accepted the book back and held it awkwardly.
“Thank you.”
For reasons he couldn’t pinpoint, Steve felt sudden concern for how it might look if someone were to find the two of them alone together in this small room. He didn’t know what to say but couldn’t stop staring at Fuller, who was holding his gaze with a look that made Steve think they should lock the door.
They.
In a move to ease the tension he couldn’t explain, he slung the book back onto the windowsill and moved to open the door as a polite invitation for the private to leave. He heard Fuller address him as his back was turned reaching for the handle.
“I have an hour before my company moves out.”
He spoke the words quietly. His voice sounded lower, less chipper than before, but still smooth. Steve felt little waves of anticipation shiver all over him. He turned around and pushed the door closed with his back. It clicked firmly shut, Steve stayed where he was, noticing that Fuller had moved closer to him. Close enough to make it abundantly clear he hadn’t misinterpreted the situation at all.
Fuller stepped closer still, not breaking eye contact.
“I have the feeling you won’t…”
The sentence trailed off as he got within a foot of Steve. There was a flush creeping up his neck and his breathing had become shakier, his expression alluring.
Steve said nothing, daring him to proceed, not letting himself wonder how far this could go. The sight of this man obviously wanting him was sending intense energy through him in waves like electricity. And he was beautiful. Not having any idea how to act on it did not stop Steve’s mind from racing through the many possibilities.
His breath caught as Fuller placed both hands gently on Steve’s chest, and remained still with his back against the closed door, letting this man he’d met only hours ago slowly explore his torso. Long fingers traced the swell of his pectorals and felt the beating of his heart. Delicately, he let them glide down either side of his waist. They pushed up his shirt and kneaded, gently but hungrily into his skin. Fuller reached his hips and hesitated, raising his gaze to meet Steve’s. His expression was irresistibly wanting.
Looking into those eyes, Steve weakened. He checked himself.
“You didn’t finish your sentence, private.”
“Sir?”
“You have a feeling I won’t what?”
“Tell me to stop.”
Steve kept his arms by his sides.
“No…”
He didn’t break eye contact, but relaxed a fraction against the door, settling himself into Fuller’s grip on his bare hips.
“...-I won’t.”
He felt the grip tighten, and his heart began to thump even faster as one hand began to make its way below the line of his belt. At the same time he realised how rock hard he’d become, his erection pinned downwards by his uniform. It ached painfully as Fuller traced the length of it with his long fingers. When he grasped a little harder, Steve gasped, in spite of himself. That seemed to spur Fuller on, his eyes flaring with heat at Steve’s reaction. He gave his fingers a firm squeeze and began to rub, very slowly, up and down.
After a few moments of this Steve was straining so hard against his clothes it was almost painful. Fuller stopped, looked down, and began to undo Steve’s belt. He did it very slowly, every so often meeting his eye for a second, the last words they’d spoken hanging like a challenge in the air. Now he was undoing the top button, the second.
The third.
He reached in and massaged Steve with those deft fingers before pulling him out fully. Shame crept threateningly up the back of Steve’s neck at being so exposed in broad daylight, the rest of him fully clothed, in front of a man whom he hadn’t even kissed. One practiced stroke overrode all feeling other than desire, though, and Steve throbbed heavily in the eager grip of the private.
Fuller lowered his gaze, and his mouth opened at the sight of Steve bare cock in his hand. He bit his lower lip, his brow crossed into a frown and he mouthed “fuck,” to himself.
Stroking him slowly, teasingly, gaze switching from Steve’s face to the motion of his hand, Fuller’s expression was growing hungrier, turning into a grin. Steve saw his tongue twitching inside his open mouth, before he slowly lowered himself onto his knees. Steve stood pressed, statue-like, against the door, looking down the length of himself.
“Oh… god...”
Fuller never broke eye contact and Steve watched him slowly draw out his tongue and lap at the tender crimson tip of his cock. He licked along the underside and rolled it playfully over the head, gripping him at the base to hold him steady. Steve’s brain was a jumble of lust and disbelief at the sight of it. Sharp and foggy at the same time, focused only on the pulse and seeping of his head in the mouth of a private he hadn’t met before today.
Watching, he felt the first hurdle of climax approaching too quickly.
His head fell back and bumped the door behind him. He shut his mouth to try keep quiet but gave up immediately when Fuller took the length of him into his mouth. It was unbearably wet. And hot. Fuller’s tongue danced and rubbed on the inside as he began to move up and down rhythmically on his mouthful. Steve made every effort to stifle another moan in his throat and gripped the doorframe behind him, and failed. He was so hard it felt obscene.
Adrenaline was crashing all over him, battling any shyness he had left and urging him to act on all the lustful possibilities forcing their way out of his subconscious. He thumped the door behind him in a wave of frustration and effort, barely preventing himself from thrusting into Fuller’s irresistible face. Instead he placed a hand on the side of his ruffled head, threading his fingers into his hair as the private moved his mouth back and forth- expertly.
Steve couldn’t help but look again, and they locked eyes once more. He was glistening wet, and Fuller was building a faster rhythm, his own pleasure all too visible on his face. Steve felt the second wave of climax begin to surge through him—.
“Captain Rogers!”
Someone was knocking on the other side of the door an inch away from them. Panic shot through Steve as Fuller sprang away from him like a jolt and leapt to his feet. Steve jumped away from the door, keeping one hand firmly on the handle, holding it shut at arms length. They started at each other, panting.
“Sir? Colonel Phillips is on the telephone!”
Steve dragged his brain into gear.
“Tell him I’ll be two minutes!”
“It’s a very bad line, Sir, I don’t know how long it’ll hold out this time.”
Steve bumped his forehead on the frame and cursed to himself.
“He won’t wait, Sir!”
“Yeah I know. You keep him on, I’ll be right out.”
Cursing again, he shoved himself back into his pants. The pressure of his buttons being forced closed made him throb and he stifled a moan of pleasure frustration in equal measure. It was practically poking a hole right through the fabric. In desperation he looked at Fuller, who, with a wry smile, handed him his shield.
“Right.” He said in agreement, they both laughed, shakily.
“Wait for me?”
Fuller gave him a mock salute in reply as he left the room, shield first.
—
When Steve eventually made it back he already knew he'd taken too long. As he set the shield down he noticed his sketchbook on top of his footlocker, open on a fresh page.
