Craving subjugation

Bucky smoothly straddles Steve’s motorcycle, starting up the engine as Steve is forced to sit behind him. As they ride down the track and the trees grow thicker, Steve is surprised at the warmth he can feel from the proximity of Bucky’s back. A familiar warmth, long forgotten, that makes him want to lean in and let it consume him. 

A few minutes later a hunting shack appears between the trees. As he shuts off the engine they’re plunged into almost pitch black but Bucky finds his way easily to the door, lighting a small oil lamp that casts shadows across the space. There’s a small table in the centre with some fruit and vegetables on a paper bag, a bed in the corner, and a couple of wooden chairs are the only other furniture. What’s immediately noticeable to Steve is the lack of anything other than food that would indicate that someone had been here, except for a backpack sitting on the chair beside the door. 

He remembers living like this for years. Being used to having to leave at a moment’s notice, always having his whole life ready to grab with one hand and go. It’s taken Steve so long to feel like he could have clothes in his wardrobe, belongings in drawers and cupboards. Even longer to feel he could own his space, and now that he’s moved into the tower for extra security since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D… he wishes it felt like home.

Bucky is staring at him expectantly, as though he asked a question and Steve wasn’t listening. “Are you sure you’re safe here?” Steve asks. “Safe as I can be, you think there aren’t booby traps all around us?” “I wouldn’t expect any less.” He looks around as his eyes adjust to the near darkness. “How are you?”

Bucky shakes his head. “We don’t have to do this.” “Look, I know you’ve been through… I can’t even begin to imagine.” “Steve, come on. We’re not just going to sit by the fire and share stories until we feel better.” “You were never one for sharing what’s going on in your head,” Steve says with a smirk. “I just want to know you’re…” “Stable? Not going to turn back into Hydra’s weapon? I have no idea. And no, talking about feelings isn’t going to help.” “Is there anything I can do?” “I’m not safe to be around.” Bucky says quietly. Steve takes a step toward him, closing the gap between them so that he can see the dark flecks in the blue of Bucky’s eyes. “I trust you.”

Bucky swallows. “I don’t.”

Steve wants to spill out everything that races through his mind. He doesn’t care about the years that have passed, having Bucky right here in front of him for the first time is like being back in the alps right before he was lost. The night before they captured Zola’s train, there were so many moments he was pulled to do things his mind said he shouldn’t… and so many times since he’s replayed that long night and wished he hadn’t hesitated. 

Now he’s sure he sees the same question in Bucky’s eyes as his own, sees the hesitation and fear that he might be wrong. He leans toward Bucky, slowly in case he pulls away, and Bucky presses his right hand against Steve’s chest as if to stop him. Steve’s stomach sinks and he breaks their gaze just as the fist closes in his shirt and Bucky pulls him in, crashing their lips together. 

Steve freezes, terrified that if he moves he’ll break the spell. A few seconds pass before he feels Bucky breathe and relax his grip, and he lets himself lean into the kiss and feel the softness of Bucky’s mouth. It’s gentle and slow, the tip of his tongue exploring his lips and teasing them apart.

For the first time since he can remember, Bucky’s mind stops. There’s nothing except Steve’s scent, his warm mouth, his heart beating fast beneath his fist. Nothing else exists. Steve’s hands find their way to the small of his back, pressing their bodies together. 

Steve keeps his eyes closed as Bucky finally pulls back, wanting this moment to last for eternity. Even Bucky’s whisper threatens to shatter the silent bliss. “Steve, we –” “Don’t. Don’t talk.”

To Steve’s surprise, Bucky lets out a quiet chuckle, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. 

“Bucky?” he whispers. “Mm?” “I don’t want to let go.” Bucky’s hand cups Steve’s face, his thumb brushing over his jaw as he inspects him as though seeing him for the first time. “So don’t.”

This time Steve doesn’t wait, closing his mouth over Bucky’s and pulling hard against his back so that there’s no air between them. Gradually his hands find their way under the hem of Bucky’s shirt, his fingertips raking against his warm, bare back. Bucky stiffens at his touch at first but is soon arching his back and kissing Steve deeper. He tugs Steve’s shirt up and breaks the kiss long enough to toss it to the floor and trail his fingertips over his chest.

So many times Bucky’s seen Steve like this, but never been so unashamed to touch him, to crave him like he does. To be alone with him now and be able to feel his warm, soft skin is overwhelming. “Hey,” Steve says gently. He takes Bucky’s right hand and places it firmly on his chest, but Bucky hesitates.

Steve knows, because he feels the same way. Wants everything at once, wants to be inside him and surrounding him at the same time, wants to push Bucky to the brink of ecstasy until he quivers and also be completely at his mercy. And he knows Bucky doesn’t trust himself, because his mind hasn’t been his own for so long.

So Steve takes the lead. He lifts off Bucky’s jacket and shirt, barely noticing the red tendrils around his metal arm as he kisses down one side of his neck, relishing the vibration of Bucky’s deep groan. He forces himself to go slow, gently touching his chest and shoulder, dragging his fingertips down over his stomach to grab the waist of Bucky’s jeans and tug him in for another deep kiss.

Bucky lets Steve lead him to the bed in the corner, which is clearly only meant for one. It reminds him of all the times in Steve’s bedroom as teenagers, where they’d lie beside each other and pretend to only be touching because the bed was so small. Truthfully they’d always found any excuse. There didn’t seem to be a need for one now.

It feels like hours spent exploring each other with lips and hands before finally they’re both naked and intertwined. Steve feels Bucky’s cock leaking onto his leg as they kiss, reaching down to take it in his hand and stroke until Bucky moans loud into the night. “Slow down,” he whispers, kissing Steve’s neck.

Steve loosens his grip and slows his breathing as Bucky reciprocates, taking Steve’s length in his fist. He immediately understands why Bucky wanted him to go slower, already feeling like he will explode in his palm. 

Steve pushes Bucky onto his back, hovering over him as he parts his legs. He lowers his hips until their shafts are against each other, wrapping one hand around them as he moves back and forth. Bucky’s mouth has fallen open in silent ecstasy, his eyes locked with Steve’s as he squeezes Steve’s hips. Steve leans down and kisses him deeply, Bucky’s ragged breath and muffled moans spurring him on. It’s only a few minutes before Steve can’t hold on any longer and starts to rut against him harder, rubbing the sensitive spot on his cock against Bucky’s until he spurts all over his stomach.

As he catches his breath he moves down Bucky’s body, leaving a trail of kisses until he reaches his shaft. He looks up and catches Bucky watching him, keeping eye contact as he takes the tip between his lips and swirls his tongue around it. “Oh my god,” Bucky moans. Encouraged, Steve takes him further into his mouth until he hits the back of his throat, sucking hard as he moves his mouth up and down. Within a few seconds Bucky’s legs start to shake. “Steve, wait…” He doesn’t stop, just groans around his cock as he feels his hips thrust up to meet him and the first threads of cum coat his tongue. Only then Steve slows, swallowing all that Bucky gives him and releasing him from his lips.

Steve collapses on the pillow beside Bucky, watching his chest heave with a smile. For a long time neither of them speak, and then Steve’s phone shatters the silence. “Hey, Sam,” he answers, keeping his voice steady as he peers out into the black night. “Everything okay?” Sam asks. “Yeah, I um… I found somewhere to stay instead of coming back tonight. Completely slipped my mind to check in, sorry.” He’s met with silence. “Everything’s fine.” “Don’t do anything stupid.” Sam says warily. Steve smiles at a distant memory. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

When he turns back to Bucky he’s pulled on a pair of pants and is sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed. “You should go, Steve.” And just like that the outside world that faded away for a blissful couple of hours comes crashing back in. “Buck…” “I don’t need them tracking you here.” “They won’t, as long as I keep checking in.” He sits beside Bucky but hesitates when he wants to touch him and suddenly feels very naked. “Please trust me.” “What’s your big plan? Hide out in the woods with me until I turn on you? Commute back and forth and just pretend you never found me?” “I don’t… There’s no plan. I came to make sure you were okay, and I’ll do whatever you need.” “This can’t change anything, I’m still a danger to you.” “I’m not leaving, not tonight at least.” He climbs into the bed behind Bucky and pulls the scratchy woollen blanket up to his waist. “Still so fucking stubborn,” Bucky mumbles as he shuts off the lamp, kicks off his pants and lies down beside Steve.