Work Text:
“When are you going to tell him?”
Steve groaned. He couldn’t count how many times he’d been asked that question in the past few weeks. Every day, it was ‘have you told him yet?’, ‘are you going to tell him?’, ‘okay fine, but you’re gonna right?’, any variation of that same question, Steve had heard them all.
“I can’t Sam!” Steve huffed, glaring at his friend, “it’s too soon.”
The two of them were in the training rooms, tidying up after their sparring match. It had been a tiring day, training the new agents and then dealing with Fury’s meetings and mission briefings, and the both of them had needed to blow off some much needed steam and stress. Hence, the many punching bags that now littered the floor, split open, insides slipping out all over the place.
“Too soon?” Sam laughed, rolling his eyes, “too soon? Man, he’s been back here with us, for months now. And he remembers everything, and if not all things, then most things. The whole business with Tony screwed him up a bit, sure, but he’s back here. We’re all here. So, what’s the problem?”
Steve huffed, turning around, picking up one of the punching bags, taking it to the equipment lockers, “it might set him back. Scare him off.”
“Why would that scare him off, Steve?” Sam sighed, crossing his arms, “out of everything, you’re scared that will make him run for the hills?”
“It’s not that…,” Steve deadpanned, turning to look at Sam with vulnerable blue eyes, “before…I’d…we’d, we weren’t like that. I don’t even know if he feels the same.”
Sam nodded, humming and then, “Steve, if there’s one thing I’m sure about, it’s that Bucky, he loves you and more than just your ‘pal’. One of these days, he’s gonna find out. What if he gets his hands on that box of yours?”
Steve pursed his lips but didn’t say anything else. Bucky didn’t feel the same way about Steve. He’d always been with women before the war and now that Steve had him back, he didn’t want to frighten him, or freak him out – it’s not every day you hear that your best friend has been hiding feelings for you for years.
Sam was just leaving when he turned around and said, “be ready in an hour – Tony’s organised something.”
Steve knew that when Tony had something planned, like a party, there was no way to back out. This time, Tony had decided to drag the team out to a local club, because apparently Steve wasn’t exposed enough to ‘modern day’ dancing or whatever.
Steve hated modern dancing. It was all kisses and grinding, sweat and touching. It looked like couples were just having sex, but with clothes on. The lighting was always either too dark, or too bright, those damn dance lights blaring loudly, like a police siren. It was always too stuffy and way too many people. Most of the time, he sat at the bar with Sam. But tonight, Sam had a date and he was up dancing, with Tony and Pepper. Even Clint (God knows how), but he’d managed to get Nat to dance. The other members of the team, like Bruce, Thor and Vision, were back at Headquarters, stuck in a meeting with Fury, while Wanda was hiding somewhere in her room. When she didn’t want to be found, she wouldn’t be and Tony didn’t try to force her out. It hadn’t gone down so well the last time, Tony didn’t have eyebrows for a week.
Sighing, Steve got up and walked towards the door, passing Pietro who had a woman pressed up against the wall, whispering something in her ear, which clearly made her blush. Once the cool air hit his face, a deep sigh fell from his lips. It was a nice night, refreshing. A crisp breeze and dark sky, lit up by stars and the ghostly moon, with fog drifting in patches over the skyline. Winter was approaching, but that didn’t bother Steve anymore. It was the memory of Bucky holding him, or wrapping him up in blankets, that bothered him.
His heart ached for Bucky, he wanted to tell him, so badly. Every time he saw him walking around Headquarters, on their shared floor, or training, or just relaxing, Steve wanted to tell him. He wasn’t exactly cleared for missions just yet, but he did spend a lot of time with Steve. And if Steve closed his eyes, it was just like old times. But Steve couldn’t tell him, he couldn’t tell him then and he couldn’t now, even if it was accepted nowadays. He just couldn’t.
Afraid it would ruin their friendship, Steve tried to bury his feelings, but when in the history of humanity, has that ever worked? Never. His feelings for the blue eyed, brown haired male just grew stronger. When Bucky’s memories started coming back, Steve thought maybe, maybe one day, he could tell him. But then, too much time passed and Steve shied away again. When Bucky cut his hair, started smiling again, even laughed, Steve’s heart swelled and he thought, ‘there he is, that’s my Bucky’, almost within touching distance, but also still so far away. It broke Steve’s heart.
Maybe, they just weren’t meant to be.
Steve returned to their floor near midnight, stepping into his living room, to see Bucky pouring over a box. Fuck. The box. The box that held Steve’s drawings of Bucky. Letters he’d written to Bucky, as if he was going to send them, ones that said he loved Bucky, that he couldn’t live without him.
At first, Steve just stood there, unsure. He didn’t want to say anything, he wanted to run and hide and yet, he wanted Bucky to turn around and say he felt the same. For what seemed like hours, Steve stood there shocked, staring at the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky knew he was there, he’d known the minute Steve had returned.
“B-Buck?” Steve asked carefully, stepping forwards, “are you okay?”
Bucky turned to look at Steve, his eyes were wide and open, like he was hurt. At first he didn’t reply, he just stared at Steve from the sofa, Steve’s drawings of Bucky in his hands, the letters scattered around him on the table and floor. His hair was messy, tousled, but nevertheless like it always was, like Bucky always kept it. He was breathing normally, but Steve could see the pain and confusion twisting in his eyes, the way his lips parted told Steve that Bucky was on the verge of saying something.
“How long?” Bucky rasped, his voice low and deep, his jaw clenched, teeth gritted.
“Uh what –
“How long Steve?” Bucky asked again, this time louder, harsher, “how long have you felt this way? Since then, huh?”
Steve’s lips parted like a gasping fish. He didn’t know what to say. Should he lie and walk away, pretend he has no idea what’s going on, or should he just fess up to his feelings? He decides on none and stands there, vulnerable and afraid.
“Well?” Bucky pressed, standing up now, he was dressed in one of Steve’s baggy tops and a pair of joggers, but Steve thought he was the most beautiful man, he’d ever laid eyes on. It was so damn domestic, so normal.
“Yes,” Steve muttered, stepping backwards, wanting to run and hide, “since then. Since…always.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Steve looked at Bucky then. His eyes were locked on Steve’s, his expression solemn. Steve wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Why had he left that box here? Why hadn’t he just thrown it away? Burnt it. Destroyed the evidence.
“Because I didn’t want to…I thought I…didn’t want to scare you off – didn’t think you’d feel the same –
“You think I don’t want you?” Bucky growled, crowding Steve against the wall, towering over him. Gulping, Steve tried to look anywhere but Bucky’s face, his heart hammering in his chest, eyes blown and wide.
“I uh, I don’t –
“Dammit Steve!” the darker haired male groaned, his hot, minty breath coating Steve’s face, “you think I don’t want you, as much as you want me? I love you Steve. I do. I really do. I have my memories Steve, I’m not him anymore. I’m not some fragile piece of glass. You could’ve told me.”
Steve spluttered, shaking his head, “I didn’t want to pressure you – scare you off…didn’t know you f-felt the same. I-I didn’t know what to do. I wanted you to tell me, if you felt the same. B-but you didn’t and I just –
“Fuck, Stevie, I’ve wanted you, since fuck, always. Wanted to kiss you, hold you, drive you wild…make you mine,” Bucky growled, running his nose down Steve’s neck, pressing his body against the blond’s, gripping Steve’s hips in his hands.
Steve could smell Bucky’s cologne, feel the warmth of his body, trapping him, holding him, loving him. His eyes closed, a whine leaving his lips as Bucky sucked his neck, leaving his mark, though it wouldn’t last long. He kissed, nipped, bit and sucked Steve’s neck, pressing his body right against Steve’s, rolling his hips against the blond’s, so much so that Steve’s mouth fell open, panting in Bucky’s ear.
Finally, when Steve couldn’t it hold back any longer, he groaned, so fucking submissively, “then Buck, please, make me yours.”
Bucky’s lips were against Steve’s within seconds, kissing him with such passion and force, that Steve’s knees buckled. Smirking against Steve’s lips, Bucky’s arms wrapped around the blond, pulling him off the wall, only to trail his hands down Steve’s hips, to his legs, then squeezing his ass. At that point, Steve groaned, arching against Bucky, his lips parting, panting into the kiss.
“Buck, please,” Steve whimpered, his head falling back against the wall, when the two drew back. Grinning slyly, Bucky attacked Steve’s neck again, at first leaving soft butterfly kisses, each saying, ‘I love you Stevie’, ‘wanna make you feel good Stevie’, ‘fuck, you’re beautiful Stevie’. Then, when Steve practically mewled, hands digging into Bucky’s back, fisting in the material of the top he was wearing, Bucky grunted, parting his lips, leaving hot, wet kisses along tender skin.
“I’ve got you, Stevie,” Bucky purred, tugging Steve forwards by his hips, grinding against the blond. That left Steve panting, his eyes squeezed shut, flushing all the way to his neck. Smirking, Bucky lifted Steve effortlessly off his feet, pushing him up against the wall, so that Steve could wrap his legs around Bucky’s waist.
Steve grabbed Bucky’s face desperately, pressing their lips together. He was so fucking needy and damn, did Bucky love that. Steve was never one to let go, to be vulnerable, to be like this, to let someone else take charge. And Bucky loved that he was the only one able to see his baby blue eyed, blond haired Captain let go like this.
Kissing Steve back, Bucky pressed both of his hands against the wall, grinding his hips against Steve’s – both of them already so incredibly hard. At that point, Steve moaned, biting Bucky’s bottom lip, swirling his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, massaging their tongues together, then sucked Bucky’s bottom lip and top lip, desperately, lovingly, forcefully, never wanting to pull away, scared Bucky would start teasing him again.
When Bucky pulled back, he nudged Steve’s nose with his own, prompting the blond to open his eyes. Slowly, but surely, Bucky was looking into baby blue orbs, hooded and dark. Steve’s cheeks held a rosy glow, his lips reddened and swollen, eyes wide and dilated, looking at Bucky with that damn,vulnerable look, through his thick eyelashes.
“Fuck, Stevie,” Bucky murmured, kissing Steve’s jaw, then nipping his earlobe, tugging softly, “you look so fuckin’ adorable.”
Steve sighed happily, his head falling back against the wall, “please, Bucky, please…”
Grinning cheekily, Bucky drew back, resting his forehead against Steve’s, “what d’ya want darlin’? Want me to make ya feel good? I can’t do anythin’ unless ya tell me.”
Steve whined, biting his bottom lip, jutting his hips against Bucky’s, then breathlessly whimpered, “I-I…please, Buck, please.”
“Damn, baby doll,” Bucky cooed, nosing Steve’s neck, pressing soft kisses over his Adam’s apple, “you all hot and bothered for me, eh?”
Steve nodded, rolling his hips against Bucky’s, “yes, yes, all for you. Only for you.”
Now, that was fucking hot – Bucky growled, smashing his lips against Steve’s again. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the feeling of Steve’s lips against his. They were so warm and soft, so delicate and adorably pouty. It reminded Bucky of small Steve, his bright blue eyes and defiant smile, it reminded Bucky of bigger Steve, Steve now, all muscle and heart, but still the same Steve, still his Steve, always his Steve.
Steve let Bucky take control of the kiss, letting him suck, nip and dominate his mouth. All Steve did was reciprocate the kiss, moaning and arching against Bucky’s body, which was seriously doing wonders to Bucky. All Steve had to do was tug at Bucky’s hair, pant or whimper and Bucky was rolling his hips against Steve’s again, rubbing their clothed erections against each other’s.
“Only for me, eh?” Bucky smirked when he pulled back from the kiss, nuzzling Steve’s neck, “you’re all mine, are you? Just mine?”
Steve, already sweating, hot and bothered, all flushed and blushes, nodded, needy, “yes, yes, yours, all yours. Just yours Buck.”
Bucky grinned cheekily, “good. Want me to take care of you, doll?”
Another nod and small, innocent whine.
“You gonna be good for me baby?” Bucky purred, biting Steve’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, still grinding his hips against Steve’s, all while keeping his eyes locked on the blond’s.
Another nod, shallow pants leaving Steve’s red, swollen lips, “yes, yes, I’ll be g-good. Promise.”
“Hmmm,” Bucky hummed, his eyes dark, “love hearin’ you beg for me, baby doll. Want me to make you beg, huh? You like that do you?”
Steve’s eyes shut, a whimper escaping his lips, blushing again, burying his face in Bucky’s neck, “I-I want you to…yes, I want you, please, fuck Bucky, please.”
Bucky chuckled, lifting Steve off the wall and carried him to the bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot, before placing Steve down on the bed gently and hovered over him, “I’ve got you darlin’, I’ve got you, gonna make you feel so good, okay, doll?”
Steve nodded, arching against Bucky as his lips moved down Steve’s neck, to his collarbones, pinning his hands above his head. That night, Bucky traced Steve’s hipbones with his lips, he memorised every sound and whine Steve whimpered into the darkness. He ran his fingertips all over Steve’s muscled chest, felt his heart pounding, learnt what drove Steve wild, when he nipped at his chest, sucked his neck, tugged his hair.
Bucky felt the warmth and love in each of Steve’s kisses, felt the searing, passionate fire Steve had felt for Bucky all these years. That night, Bucky took care of Steve, in every way possible, he made his toes curl, his back arch, hips jerk. He made him moan, gasp and whimper Bucky’s name, repeatedly, as their bodies became one, sinking, slipping, falling deeper, and deeper within one another, sharing the same air, the same heartbeat, the same everything.
That night, Bucky learnt that perhaps Steve Rogers didn’t like to be in control, all of the time.