[ Steve has been de-serumed, with the cause and culprit for it remaining unknown. SHIELD is working overtime to discover who it is, dispatching agents to search far and wide for any sort of clue -- meanwhile, however, Steve is far from happy at the change and Bucky knows it. He knows the frustration, the anger that comes with becoming close to helpless suddenly, but as the days pass, he knows that Steve is grudgingly getting used to his new (old) form, smaller, lean and lithe and inexorably pretty.
The health problems are still mostly absent, much to Bucky's surprise; but as much as he wants the cure to be found and for Steve to be restored to his larger form once again, he can't help but be drawn to Steve's smaller, more fragile and lean frame. After all, he'd fallen in love with this Steve, adored the hell out of him and had made love countless times to that small body, pushing inside that little hole, feeling the man cling to him with those birdlike arms, and surprisingly strong fingers.
Bucky comforts him how he can, but secretly craves him, wants to relive the memories of them together. And so one night when Steve is fast asleep beside him, he can't help but run his fingers down his sides, soft and gentle, before slipping into the back of his briefs to trace over the crease of his ass, the softness of his skin, quietly marveling at how small he is. ]
[ He didn't miss this body, for all that it's a bit like slipping into an old pair of pajamas. He didn't always feel at home in the new one, either--it took him a long time to get used to how shockingly big it was, to feel like he could touch someone, hold someone, without being hyper-vigilant of his newfound strength. But at least he had the strength, the power to do something about people who want to tear down everything that's good and right in the world. He could help the people who needed him, including those he loved most.
Now Steve is of little help to anyone, and won't be until SHIELD figures out a cure.
He's concerned at first how Bucky will react, if this will trigger good memories or bad, watching Steve be stripped of power, made helpless, like Bucky was after the fall from the train. Steve understands, a little, the rage and fear he must have felt. He understands what it's like to feel like a prisoner in your own skin, your body made your enemy. But Bucky seems--calm, seems gentle, comforting him when Steve is the one nearly out of his mind with frustration, handling him with surprising care. He sees more of the old Bucky in him than he has in months, his tender, adoring lover.
Steve curls willingly into his arms every night, exhausted by the way this body is sapped so quickly of energy and strength. Sometime around midnight he's woken, coming out of a drifting sleep to feel warm hands on him, slow caresses. His breath hitches; Bucky's hands feel so big, now. One warm, flesh hand, the other cool metal, unfathomably strong, both of them skimming down beneath his shorts, fingers tracing between the cheeks of his ass--Steve makes some low sound, shifting restlessly against him. ] Bucky.
[ Bucky doesn't stop, sensing the sleepy quality of Steve's tone as he continues touching him, rubbing in between his cheeks and stroking over his hole, curious and aroused all at the very same time. It startles Bucky how much and how easily Steve's current form turns him on, but he's decided not to think too hard about it.
He presses close against him without a word, a large hand moving to smooth over Steve's stomach, soothing him. Nothing to worry here, Steve -- he's going to take good care of you. He makes a soft, gentle noise as he kisses his neck, then his thin shoulder, nuzzling him through the thin fabric of his shirt. Bucky's in an affectionate mood tonight, and he murmurs. ]
[ Those warm, calloused fingers sliding between the cheeks of his ass make him tense at first, then relax as Bucky presses closer against him, a slow exhale leaving his lungs. He feels--warm, and heavy, half-asleep still, safe in Bucky's arms: this is how they used to sleep all those years ago when Steve coughed and shivered his way through a frigid night, only warm when his best friend's arms were around him, when his body was curved against Steve's from behind, sheltering him. He never wanted to admit how good it felt to be so protected, Bucky so anxious to keep him warm. He never wanted Bucky to worry about him, or worse, think of him as a burden, a responsibility.
But this--this is irresistibly familiar, and Steve is caught between dreaming and wakefulness, drifting in pleasure with the press of Bucky's mouth to the nape of his neck and the way his fingers stroke over his hole. ] Buck. [ he protests softly; his lover doesn't need to take care of him, not without Steve taking care of him in turn--he can do it even in this body, he could kiss him, suck him, make him feel good. Steve drags up the hand resting against his stomach, kisses the fingers, nuzzles into the palm--but he doesn't open his eyes. Bucky is generous, affectionate, and it feels too good to resist. ]
[ Bucky says, and he doesn't know whether he's saying it to Steve or himself. Maybe it's both -- he gleans comfort from the warmth of his lover's smaller body, too; assured of his presence, of the fact that he's still under his protection. Steve is far from a burden; even like this he is everything that Bucky needs, everything that he can ever hope to want.
He kisses his shoulder, his earlobe, his hands coming down to massage his ass, to gently reach around, sliding over his hip to stroke his cock, so sleek and smaller than he'd been before. It's perfectly all right; he loves touching his Stevie's cock like this, too, awakening his body even as he soothes his mind to rest. ] I'm going to make you feel good. Just rest.
[ Bucky buys lingerie for Steve, lace and satin numbers that fit him snugly, but leave little to the imagination where his cock and his balls are concerned. Ever since Steve had become his old self, Bucky had become more adventurous, more forceful, taking control and dominating and loving every moment of it.
He gets him a sheer black number tonight, the tiny scrap of lace panties barely keeping anything decent as he orders his Steve to put it in for him. Steve does, and this evening finds the Winter Soldier on his knees, his mouth warm and mouthing at his lover's lovely cock through the confines of the lace and satin, large hands on Steve's hips to keep him steady and standing. He loves how Steve feels, what he's like when he's in the throes of pleasure; Bucky is addicted to him, and he knows that it's not going to end anytime soon. ]
[ His older, smaller body was something he was only beginning to get used to when Bucky first brought home a pair of panties for him to wear. At first Steve was inclined to laugh, roll his eyes at the idea of being dressed up and made pretty like this, but seeing the sparks of pleasure in his lover's eyes made him change his mind--Bucky really, truly loves it, taking control of him, taking care of him, right down to buying him pretty lingerie to wear, and Steve wants to give Bucky everything that makes him happy. So what if that means dressing up in ladies' underthings? Besides, he can't say he doesn't take some half-guilty enjoyment from the feeling of soft lace and satin cradling his cock and balls, the sight of his narrow hipbones jutting from the low waistlines. Not to mention the way Bucky looks at him, his eyes dark and hot, his low voice ordering him to put on the silky scraps.
He exhales softly, winding his fingers through Bucky's dark hair as he kneels on the floor in front of him with some of his old possessiveness. Bucky is his, as much as he's Bucky's: although he's never quite felt so much like Bucky's as he does since the serum reversed its effects and made him small again. There's nothing like Bucky's powerful, loving hands taking everything they want, his lover claiming him again and again, like he can't get enough. ]
You really love this, don't you, Buck? [ Steve pets his hair back from his face, shivering as Bucky's hot mouth caresses over his dick. He can sort of see it. His skin looks pale and pink, creamy against the sheer black lace; the panties cradle him, doing nothing to hide the outline of his hard cock, his heavy balls. Obediently he shifts his stance wider. ] Gonna--gonna fall over, you keep using your mouth like that.
[ Bucky admits. He knows that Steve is still getting used to his own body, that the change hadn't been entirely for the better -- but he's right there with Steve, see? He's going to help him through it, to take care of him however he can. He's happier like this, too, even though it seems selfish and Bucky is guilty for it.
But right here like this, he's Steve's protector, his lover, and as he worships Steve's cock through the lovely lace, he groans, loving and soft. His tongue presses against the heavy shape of his balls, the swell of his cock, and he's playing with him, breathing in Steve's clean musk. He loves it, he thinks, before he reaches a hand between his legs and slides his fingers into his panties, rubbing against the bare crease of his ass and pushing a middle finger inside. ]
Don't worry, I'll catch you. I'll keep you standing.
Bucky. [ Steve says his name on an exhale, rocking his hips forward towards Bucky's mouth and gripping him tightly by the hair. Greedy for him, demanding. The change in his body hasn't made him any less promiscuous: maybe more so. All traces of the big man who can slowly, patiently take Bucky apart seem to be gone; there's no patience in him when Bucky touches him anymore, just desire and greed, needing his hands on him, his mouth, his cock inside him, needing Bucky's adoration--he can't seem to get enough and neither can Steve, willing to be always wet, always slicked up and open for him. He shudders as Bucky's middle finger slides easily inside of him. His fingers feel thicker now, they stretch him out more, but Steve--he knows how to make himself ready, fucking himself on his fingers after every shower until he's wet with lube and stretched open, wearing his plug when he sees that look in Bucky's eyes, dangerous and expectant, the look that says he'll bend Steve over anything, anywhere, and push his cock inside of him with barely a moment's notice.
Right now, though, his lover is the patient one, reverent and gentle, mouthing Steve's cock through the thin barrier of lace, his balls, making him damp and hot, tormenting him until he's trembling and flushed and sheened with sweat. Steve rocks back into the press of his finger, a moan catching in his throat. ] More. [ He says the word before he knows he's going to say it, knees buckling a little, but managing to keep on his feet. ] Buck--need more.
[ Bucky purrs, more than intent on taking his sweet time, sliding his second finger into his slick, wet heat, too, pleasantly surprised to find that he's already ready for him. Steve's been playing with his favorite toy, Bucky thinks.
He's still reverent, still loving, and he loves the way Steve's slender little body is flushed with pleasure, with anticipation of what's to come next. He would always be in love with him, forever smitten by Steve's eagerness, the way he aches for more and tempts him with every breath. He tightens his hold on him, making good on his promise not to let him buckle as he eases aside the scrap of fabric to lick and lave at his balls. ]
Better? I love when you whimper for more, Stevie. You sound so damn sweet.
[ Bucky fucks his Steve in public sometimes, whenever he feels like it -- and today is no exception. He'd made his lover wear the vibrator nearly constantly now, alternating between anal plugs and the former toy to make sure he's nice and loose, able to easily take Bucky inside whenever the mood strikes him.
Today, they're playing domestic, shopping for food until it occurs to them that there's a parade on the way, and with the crowd thronging all around them, boxing them in in order for a good view, Bucky decides that they should join the festivities, too, as spectators. Bucky quietly tugs on the belt loop of his pants, urging him up against the barricade with entirely different plans in mind as he presses up against him.
Wrapping his arms around Steve's much smaller body, the Winter Soldier leans down to whisper, warm and quiet in his ear while everyone around them seems to be fixated on the first float about to come up. ] Pull your pants down and take out the plug.
[ Lately Bucky's taken to having him wear the vibrator or a plug even when they go out, wedged thick in his ass, held snug by a pair of tight panties or briefs. Taken to pulling him into alleys or dark corners, bending him against a wall, sliding the plug out and pushing his cock into him before Steve can so much as hiss a protest: making him moan instead, making him forget everything but the feeling of his lover's thick cock pistoning in and out of his slick, loose hole. He wants him anywhere, everywhere. Wants him always ready, stretched and open for his cock, though Bucky sliding into him still feels like the biggest thing he's ever taken up the ass, feels like he can barely manage it every time.
And Steve--he should be embarrassed, ashamed, walking around with a plug throbbing in his ass and the satisfied knowledge in Bucky's eyes, but he isn't. He can't be. It makes him wild with need, greedy for Bucky's hands on him, more demanding now than ever before.
Still, he feels his heart skip a beat when Bucky has him pressed up against the balustrade in front of the parade, when he's got his arms around him from behind, breath coming tight into his lungs. There are throngs of people, music, confetti drifting by, and Bucky's mouth next to his ear is making him ache with wanting, his skin flush with it: too much, too close. His hole is swollen, stretched, a little sore around the plug wedged deep inside him. His cock has been half-hard all afternoon, the fabric of his undershorts chafing the tender head, and now--
Steve huffs out a breath of laughter. ] You've lost your mind, Buck. [ Even as he speaks he's opening his belt, unzipping his jeans, his fingers shaking with desire. ] We can't here. There's people everywhere.
[ Bucky hums. He's in a dangerous mood today, and a very good one, too. He wants to mark Steve where everyone's around but no one will know, and he's careful to keep Steve's sensitive parts hidden from view -- see, no one else will get to see it save for Bucky himself.
He loves that Steve is walking around with a plug throbbing in his ass, the way Steve is greedy for him like a pretty little whore, and he barely pays attention to the parade when he feels Steve loosening his jeans. Bucky is the one to push it down past his slim hips, pressing his swollen crotch against Steve's bare ass to show him how much he's needed. He nudges the plug aside when he shoves those shorts down past his ass, too, making sure to keep Steve's cock still covered.
He gently nips at his ear, humming. ] Good. Now take me out. I'm so hard for you.
[ His eyes close, Bucky's hands easing his jeans down his slim hips making him shiver, Bucky's body pressed against his bared ass--cock hard, straining at the front of his pants, Steve can feel it--making the want in him so sharp he can almost taste it. His face is flushed hot and his ears are ringing--he opens his eyes again to watch the float passing by as his lover nips at his ear, murmurs to him, grateful for the parade, the distraction, all eyes turned to it even though he feels like they're standing under a spotlight. Bucky is a dangerous man in a mood like this. Wicked, commanding, coaxing all at once, his old self seems to come out when he's like this, capable of persuading Steve to do anything.
They used to lead one another into so much trouble.
Supported by his lover's strength, Steve reaches back for the button and fly of Bucky's jeans, undoing both, and slips his fingers in under his boxers. His breath catches as he touches the smooth, hot skin of Bucky's cock, the rigid shaft, and draws it carefully out, feeling it nudge against his ass, between his cheeks: Steve is open and slick for him, stretched from the plug and nearly dripping with lube. He keeps a hand around Bucky's cock, strokes it in his long fingers, the motion hidden by their bodies; he feels it thicken against his palm, feels the beads of precome welling up from the head and slipping down the shaft, the evidence of Bucky's pleasure. ]
Buck. [ Steve is biting into his lower lip, staring blindly forward with so much want in his body it makes him rigid. His own cock is fully hard, chafed against the front of his jeans. He must be losing his mind too. ] Put it in me. Please.
[ So much trouble, indeed. Bucky remembers just how much they were mutually responsible for one dragging the other into a whole lot of trouble, but it doesn't matter at the end of the day -- they will not be separated from each other, and Bucky will always have what he wants from his Steve.
It's intoxicating, to be able to inspire such a reaction out of him, to know that Steve's pale skin is flushed, that his heart rate is kicking up. He muffles a groan against his cheek, pretending to be an affectionate boyfriend to the people beside them -- not that they were paying attention anyway, and his knees threaten to buckle when he feels Steve's small, delicate fingers come to wrap around his cock.
Oh, his pretty, pretty slut; he loves when Steve knows exactly what he wants, and he doesn't hesitate, gently easing Steve's fingers away before he slams up inside him in one rough, brutal jerk. His lover's sweet little hole can take it -- Steve has taken worse, and when he's so slippery and wet and ready for him, it's a shame not to let Steve feel just how his body has to stretch around his heavy, thick cock.
He impales Steve's sweet little body on his hard, throbbing cock with a low sigh, and he whispers in his ear, looking ahead. ] You little cockslut. You love this, don't you? Getting fucked in front of all these people. My dick's so deep inside you, baby. It's so easy for anyone to just turn and see what a filthy little whore you are.
[ Steve looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, clipping the garters into place. He's done himself up tonight the way he knows Bucky loves, wanting to surprise him when he comes home after a long debriefing of the Winter Soldier's missions and HYDRA's activity. They're always rough on him, those sessions; he'll be exhausted when he comes home and sometimes worse, sometimes sunk into a bleak, distant mood that Steve will spend a long time working him out of. It's worth it to try to head some of that off by surprising him with the new garments he hasn't yet worn: with any luck, lust will take care of the rest.
He knows Bucky likes to see him in black lace, so that was what he concentrated on. He has new panties, and a pair of stockings that roll all the way up his thighs, the garters clipped into place; he's wearing heels, not too high but dainty, feminine, and a black corset that gently compresses his narrow ribs. He'd even thought about makeup, but decided against it. He's pink enough, his lips bitten to a sweet red blush.
Hearing the door open and close, Steve wavers in place; he should walk out to Bucky, strut the new lingerie as boldly as you please, and he smiles with wry embarrassment at himself in the mirror before calling out. ] Buck? I'm in here.
[ Bucky's never been more glad to be home -- it had been a rough day, even worse than most, and the idea of spending the next few days with his Steve away from everyone else is a tantalizing idea. They have a good home together, and he's enjoying his lover's company, the way Steve always livens up his day whenever he's around.
He hears his voice from the bathroom and decides to head towards it, curious and wondering if he needs any help -- although he stops when he pushes open the door to see his pretty, lithe little lover in a corset, garters and stockings and heels, all lovely black lace that immediately go right to his groin.
Bucky swallows, wide eyed at the treat before him before he comes up behind Steve in the mirror, hands coming to rest at his waist as he draws close, eyes darkening with pleasure. ] Gonna put on a show for me, then?
[ When he sees Bucky's face Steve knows that it was worth it. The way the weariness simply drops away, his eyes going wide and startled before they darken in a way that makes Steve feel pleasantly tingly. His breath hitches a little when Bucky comes up behind him and rests his big, solid hands on his waist, looking at him in the mirror. Steve studies him in turn, the hugeness of Bucky's shoulders making him ache in a pleasurable way, the contrast of him to Steve in this form. He fits perfectly between his lover's hands, all prettied up for him.
Steve smiles at him in the mirror, embarrassed but pleased. ] What kind of show would you like? [ He turns his head back over his shoulder, lifting a hand to Bucky's hair and tugging gently; Steve presses soft, hot kisses to the underside of his jaw, the heels giving him a couple of extra inches in height to help. He murmurs there, tormenting: ] You already missed the striptease.
[ His body feels sheathed by lace and stays, the corset encasing him in its gentle grasp. Bucky by contrast is black leather and fatigues, head to toe, the gleaming metal arm standing out in a startling way, brutal where Steve is soft and feminine. The sensation of being possessed is unmistakable, arousing; Steve leans back against him, a little off-balance in the heels, trusting Bucky to easily take his weight. ]
[ And he does without hesitation, taking his weight and holding him steady in his arms, appreciating the feel of the smaller man against him. He loves the material of the corset, the way it looks on him, the stark contrast against milk-white skin. Steve is beautiful, and he can barely take his eyes off of him, even when he feels the kisses to his jaw, his Steve so sweetly affectionate that it makes him hard, swelling in his leather pants.
He knows the stark contrast that they make, Steve's soft lines against Bucky's harsher, more unforgiving ones, and he nuzzles at him in return, pressing his groin up against that perky little ass. There are so many things he wants to do to him right now, and his metal hand comes to splay possessively over Steve's stomach, tracing over the lovely material.
Pressing kisses to his shoulder, he gently bites, leaves a hickey blossoming on his skin. ] It's okay, I'd rather strip it all off you anyway. You're so pretty, Stevie. You wanna be my girl, don't you?
[ The effortless way Bucky takes his weight makes him bite his lip, feeling the way his cock starts to get interested, watching Bucky's arms--one glinting metal, unyielding and hard--wrap around him and pull him back. His ass is resting against Bucky's hips, the swell of his cock becoming more and more obvious with every passing moment, nudging between his cheeks until Steve's breath hitches and he squirms a little, both to feel it better and to entice it to hardness. He wonders how Bucky would like the gentle scratch of lace against bare skin, how he'd enjoy stocking-clad legs wrapped around his hips. A lot, to judge by the hot, dark pleasure in his eyes.
His breath hitches again as Bucky's teeth dig gently into his shoulder, his eyes drawn to the faint mark his mouth leaves on his skin, soon to darken to a bruise. His own cock is starting to tent out the front of his panties, and Steve feels himself flush at the question, not denying it. He's marked, possessed, dolled up in lace and stays and it's all for Bucky, all to make himself sweet and soft for him.
His eyes meet his lover's in the mirror. ] You--you used to have lots of girls, Buck. [ Reaching behind him, Steve cups the swell of Bucky's cock, kneading the heel of his hand gently against it. ] But I always wanted to be your favorite. Wished I was a girl, sometimes, just so you'd look at me. I'd be your little wife, give you everything you needed.
[ He can see that Bucky's angry, now that they're home after the debriefing and the emotionless mask of the Winter Soldier is coming down; he can see the snapping glint in his eyes and the way his jaw shifts and his mouth presses tight when he looks at him, so that there's no doubt at all just who Bucky is angry at. Or why, for that matter--because Steve talked his way into a mission, firmly resolved not to be left behind again.
This one wasn't supposed to turn dangerous. It was only supposed to be a simple sweep of an old HYDRA facility; their intelligence had told them there should be no one left guarding the place, and the firefight had been an entirely unexpected thing. Steve may not have the strongest sense of self-preservation, but he wouldn't be foolish enough to insist on putting himself directly in the line of fire, not with Bucky in his charge, with so much to lose if Steve were hurt or God forbid, killed; but damn it, he isn't helpless, he knows how to fire a gun, he knows how to keep himself alive. No one needs to keep him wrapped up in cotton batting like a child. He regrets scaring Bucky, but he doesn't regret going.
As always, Steve can smell a confrontation brewing a mile away, and he faces it head-on once he and Bucky are in private, back home where they can let their guard drop for each other. ] Hey, Buck. [ He makes his voice gentle, reaching for his best friend's hand. Steve doesn't want to fight with him. He loves him, wants to soothe him, make it better as best as he can. ] It's okay, you know. We're okay. Next time we'll be better prepared, take more precaution.
Steve shouldn't have been there -- he shouldn't have allowed the smaller man to talk himself on it; should probably have tied him up and kept him locked at home just so he doesn't get himself out and about into trouble. It was a narrow shave, and Bucky can't help running it over and over again in his head, seeing the worst case scenario and hating himself for not putting up more of an argument.
Steve shouldn't be out there in the field at all; he has no business being where Bucky is, not when he's the most important person in Bucky's world. If he loses Steve, he loses everything, and Bucky had been terrified in the split second where it lookedlike he was going to be targeted.
And when they reach home, his rage, his anger hasn't abated in the least. He's glad Steve is safe with him; that's all he can ever ask for, but he grabs a hold of Steve's wrist, his gaze burning, ferocious. ]
[ The vehemence of Bucky's reaction is startling. He's gripping his wrist hard, far from the gentle way Bucky usually touches him, like he fears breaking him in this form, except when he's so aroused he'll take and use Steve however he pleases; his eyes are black and snapping with fury, and Steve can't help a wry smile, remembering the times that this argument was reversed. He puts his fingers over Bucky's hand on his wrist, not trying to loosen his grasp but to soothe. Steve can take Bucky's anger. He can take all of him, the dark parts as well as the good, the hints of brutality that have left their scars in him from the years as HYDRA's weapon; he's Steve's to care for, just as Steve is his. ]
I know my limits, Bucky. This is the real me, remember? Back in Brooklyn, how I used to pick all those fights? But it's not about having something to prove anymore. I've got to do what I can. Being like this--it doesn't make me helpless.
[ He's firm on that point, his earnest gaze imploring Bucky to understand. Steve knows how badly Bucky wants to protect him. He just can't let him keep him in a cage, keep him locked away so safe that he'll never be permitted to help anyone, or protect Bucky in turn. ]
I'm sorry I scared you. I really am. [ Steve lowers his head to kiss Bucky's fingers, soft and sweet. He'll prove it to him, whatever it takes. Steve will never let him suffer again. ]
[ It's not far from his memory too, the way Steve had been overprotective of him, the way he hadn't wanted Bucky out to battle and would be furious whenever he followed. He understands this now, belatedly, and how infuriating it must've been for Steve when Bucky dug in his heels and refused to fall in.
But this is different, right? This is Steve getting himself into all sorts of trouble, and Bucky fighting hard to keep him alive, to keep him safe. He doesn't release his grip, doesn't buy a word of what Steve's saying because all he thinks of is the man hurt, or even worse, and he's not sure what he would do if Steve is injured on his account.
He's Bucky's to care for, to love and to protect, and he scowls at him -- no. No, he doesn't understand. He doesn't want him to get out there and get injuries; Steve's more fragile now that he's back in this form, and his anger doesn't abate. ]
You're not sorry. [ He twists his fingers after the kiss, grips Steve's jaw and forces him to look up, his eyes stormy with cold anger. ] You're going to keep doing it.
[ It's been quiet since the mission, Bucky's injuries checked out and pronounced minor--bruises, lacerations that will heal and be gone without a trace within a few hours at most--and his mental state evaluated. He's all right now, back to himself again, remembering who and what he is. It could have been anything that triggered that state during combat, a familiar sight or smell, something about the base they'd been clearing out: it was probably yet another place where Bucky had been tortured and stripped of his humanity. It was no wonder that he kept falling into the blank-faced mindlessness of the Winter Soldier, and Steve was angry about it--not at him but at SHIELD, that they wouldn't let Steve go with him, that they sent Bucky on these missions at all. But someone had gotten hurt, and Bucky took it as his responsibility. Steve can see it in his face, the dull misery in his eyes.
They left Bucky with him like this, and he's the only one who can fix it.
When they get home he quietly tells Bucky to put his gear away, then leads him into the living room. It doesn't surprise him that he follows his orders, some of the soldier still lingering in him. Steve sits in one of the oversized chairs--built for supersoldiers--and looks Bucky over as he stands in the middle of the floor. He's beautiful, he always is, clad in black from head to toe like a ghost, a shadow. He looks at him, and then he gets up and goes to him, and the first thing Steve does is unbuckle his belt, sliding it carefully out of the loops of his fatigues. It's big and wide, flat, good for the purpose he means to put it to. ]
Take your clothes off, Buck. [ Steve's voice is quiet but firm. He knows what Bucky needs from him. He won't be able to get past this, he won't be able to let go and forgive himself without Steve showing him the way. He steps back to watch him, his beautiful, lethal soldier, stripping himself down to skin at Steve's orders. When he's naked, he tells him to kneel. ]
Tell me what you did wrong. [ Steve touches his face with one hand, tracing his thumb across his cheekbone. It's better to hear it from Bucky's lips, to understand exactly what he thinks he needs to atone for. ]
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somnophilia tbh
The health problems are still mostly absent, much to Bucky's surprise; but as much as he wants the cure to be found and for Steve to be restored to his larger form once again, he can't help but be drawn to Steve's smaller, more fragile and lean frame. After all, he'd fallen in love with this Steve, adored the hell out of him and had made love countless times to that small body, pushing inside that little hole, feeling the man cling to him with those birdlike arms, and surprisingly strong fingers.
Bucky comforts him how he can, but secretly craves him, wants to relive the memories of them together. And so one night when Steve is fast asleep beside him, he can't help but run his fingers down his sides, soft and gentle, before slipping into the back of his briefs to trace over the crease of his ass, the softness of his skin, quietly marveling at how small he is. ]
no subject
Now Steve is of little help to anyone, and won't be until SHIELD figures out a cure.
He's concerned at first how Bucky will react, if this will trigger good memories or bad, watching Steve be stripped of power, made helpless, like Bucky was after the fall from the train. Steve understands, a little, the rage and fear he must have felt. He understands what it's like to feel like a prisoner in your own skin, your body made your enemy. But Bucky seems--calm, seems gentle, comforting him when Steve is the one nearly out of his mind with frustration, handling him with surprising care. He sees more of the old Bucky in him than he has in months, his tender, adoring lover.
Steve curls willingly into his arms every night, exhausted by the way this body is sapped so quickly of energy and strength. Sometime around midnight he's woken, coming out of a drifting sleep to feel warm hands on him, slow caresses. His breath hitches; Bucky's hands feel so big, now. One warm, flesh hand, the other cool metal, unfathomably strong, both of them skimming down beneath his shorts, fingers tracing between the cheeks of his ass--Steve makes some low sound, shifting restlessly against him. ] Bucky.
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[ Bucky doesn't stop, sensing the sleepy quality of Steve's tone as he continues touching him, rubbing in between his cheeks and stroking over his hole, curious and aroused all at the very same time. It startles Bucky how much and how easily Steve's current form turns him on, but he's decided not to think too hard about it.
He presses close against him without a word, a large hand moving to smooth over Steve's stomach, soothing him. Nothing to worry here, Steve -- he's going to take good care of you. He makes a soft, gentle noise as he kisses his neck, then his thin shoulder, nuzzling him through the thin fabric of his shirt. Bucky's in an affectionate mood tonight, and he murmurs. ]
Go back to sleep.
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But this--this is irresistibly familiar, and Steve is caught between dreaming and wakefulness, drifting in pleasure with the press of Bucky's mouth to the nape of his neck and the way his fingers stroke over his hole. ] Buck. [ he protests softly; his lover doesn't need to take care of him, not without Steve taking care of him in turn--he can do it even in this body, he could kiss him, suck him, make him feel good. Steve drags up the hand resting against his stomach, kisses the fingers, nuzzles into the palm--but he doesn't open his eyes. Bucky is generous, affectionate, and it feels too good to resist. ]
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[ Bucky says, and he doesn't know whether he's saying it to Steve or himself. Maybe it's both -- he gleans comfort from the warmth of his lover's smaller body, too; assured of his presence, of the fact that he's still under his protection. Steve is far from a burden; even like this he is everything that Bucky needs, everything that he can ever hope to want.
He kisses his shoulder, his earlobe, his hands coming down to massage his ass, to gently reach around, sliding over his hip to stroke his cock, so sleek and smaller than he'd been before. It's perfectly all right; he loves touching his Stevie's cock like this, too, awakening his body even as he soothes his mind to rest. ] I'm going to make you feel good. Just rest.
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crossdressing
He gets him a sheer black number tonight, the tiny scrap of lace panties barely keeping anything decent as he orders his Steve to put it in for him. Steve does, and this evening finds the Winter Soldier on his knees, his mouth warm and mouthing at his lover's lovely cock through the confines of the lace and satin, large hands on Steve's hips to keep him steady and standing. He loves how Steve feels, what he's like when he's in the throes of pleasure; Bucky is addicted to him, and he knows that it's not going to end anytime soon. ]
Spread your legs wider for me.
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He exhales softly, winding his fingers through Bucky's dark hair as he kneels on the floor in front of him with some of his old possessiveness. Bucky is his, as much as he's Bucky's: although he's never quite felt so much like Bucky's as he does since the serum reversed its effects and made him small again. There's nothing like Bucky's powerful, loving hands taking everything they want, his lover claiming him again and again, like he can't get enough. ]
You really love this, don't you, Buck? [ Steve pets his hair back from his face, shivering as Bucky's hot mouth caresses over his dick. He can sort of see it. His skin looks pale and pink, creamy against the sheer black lace; the panties cradle him, doing nothing to hide the outline of his hard cock, his heavy balls. Obediently he shifts his stance wider. ] Gonna--gonna fall over, you keep using your mouth like that.
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[ Bucky admits. He knows that Steve is still getting used to his own body, that the change hadn't been entirely for the better -- but he's right there with Steve, see? He's going to help him through it, to take care of him however he can. He's happier like this, too, even though it seems selfish and Bucky is guilty for it.
But right here like this, he's Steve's protector, his lover, and as he worships Steve's cock through the lovely lace, he groans, loving and soft. His tongue presses against the heavy shape of his balls, the swell of his cock, and he's playing with him, breathing in Steve's clean musk. He loves it, he thinks, before he reaches a hand between his legs and slides his fingers into his panties, rubbing against the bare crease of his ass and pushing a middle finger inside. ]
Don't worry, I'll catch you. I'll keep you standing.
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Right now, though, his lover is the patient one, reverent and gentle, mouthing Steve's cock through the thin barrier of lace, his balls, making him damp and hot, tormenting him until he's trembling and flushed and sheened with sweat. Steve rocks back into the press of his finger, a moan catching in his throat. ] More. [ He says the word before he knows he's going to say it, knees buckling a little, but managing to keep on his feet. ] Buck--need more.
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[ Bucky purrs, more than intent on taking his sweet time, sliding his second finger into his slick, wet heat, too, pleasantly surprised to find that he's already ready for him. Steve's been playing with his favorite toy, Bucky thinks.
He's still reverent, still loving, and he loves the way Steve's slender little body is flushed with pleasure, with anticipation of what's to come next. He would always be in love with him, forever smitten by Steve's eagerness, the way he aches for more and tempts him with every breath. He tightens his hold on him, making good on his promise not to let him buckle as he eases aside the scrap of fabric to lick and lave at his balls. ]
Better? I love when you whimper for more, Stevie. You sound so damn sweet.
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Today, they're playing domestic, shopping for food until it occurs to them that there's a parade on the way, and with the crowd thronging all around them, boxing them in in order for a good view, Bucky decides that they should join the festivities, too, as spectators. Bucky quietly tugs on the belt loop of his pants, urging him up against the barricade with entirely different plans in mind as he presses up against him.
Wrapping his arms around Steve's much smaller body, the Winter Soldier leans down to whisper, warm and quiet in his ear while everyone around them seems to be fixated on the first float about to come up. ] Pull your pants down and take out the plug.
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And Steve--he should be embarrassed, ashamed, walking around with a plug throbbing in his ass and the satisfied knowledge in Bucky's eyes, but he isn't. He can't be. It makes him wild with need, greedy for Bucky's hands on him, more demanding now than ever before.
Still, he feels his heart skip a beat when Bucky has him pressed up against the balustrade in front of the parade, when he's got his arms around him from behind, breath coming tight into his lungs. There are throngs of people, music, confetti drifting by, and Bucky's mouth next to his ear is making him ache with wanting, his skin flush with it: too much, too close. His hole is swollen, stretched, a little sore around the plug wedged deep inside him. His cock has been half-hard all afternoon, the fabric of his undershorts chafing the tender head, and now--
Steve huffs out a breath of laughter. ] You've lost your mind, Buck. [ Even as he speaks he's opening his belt, unzipping his jeans, his fingers shaking with desire. ] We can't here. There's people everywhere.
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[ Bucky hums. He's in a dangerous mood today, and a very good one, too. He wants to mark Steve where everyone's around but no one will know, and he's careful to keep Steve's sensitive parts hidden from view -- see, no one else will get to see it save for Bucky himself.
He loves that Steve is walking around with a plug throbbing in his ass, the way Steve is greedy for him like a pretty little whore, and he barely pays attention to the parade when he feels Steve loosening his jeans. Bucky is the one to push it down past his slim hips, pressing his swollen crotch against Steve's bare ass to show him how much he's needed. He nudges the plug aside when he shoves those shorts down past his ass, too, making sure to keep Steve's cock still covered.
He gently nips at his ear, humming. ] Good. Now take me out. I'm so hard for you.
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They used to lead one another into so much trouble.
Supported by his lover's strength, Steve reaches back for the button and fly of Bucky's jeans, undoing both, and slips his fingers in under his boxers. His breath catches as he touches the smooth, hot skin of Bucky's cock, the rigid shaft, and draws it carefully out, feeling it nudge against his ass, between his cheeks: Steve is open and slick for him, stretched from the plug and nearly dripping with lube. He keeps a hand around Bucky's cock, strokes it in his long fingers, the motion hidden by their bodies; he feels it thicken against his palm, feels the beads of precome welling up from the head and slipping down the shaft, the evidence of Bucky's pleasure. ]
Buck. [ Steve is biting into his lower lip, staring blindly forward with so much want in his body it makes him rigid. His own cock is fully hard, chafed against the front of his jeans. He must be losing his mind too. ] Put it in me. Please.
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It's intoxicating, to be able to inspire such a reaction out of him, to know that Steve's pale skin is flushed, that his heart rate is kicking up. He muffles a groan against his cheek, pretending to be an affectionate boyfriend to the people beside them -- not that they were paying attention anyway, and his knees threaten to buckle when he feels Steve's small, delicate fingers come to wrap around his cock.
Oh, his pretty, pretty slut; he loves when Steve knows exactly what he wants, and he doesn't hesitate, gently easing Steve's fingers away before he slams up inside him in one rough, brutal jerk. His lover's sweet little hole can take it -- Steve has taken worse, and when he's so slippery and wet and ready for him, it's a shame not to let Steve feel just how his body has to stretch around his heavy, thick cock.
He impales Steve's sweet little body on his hard, throbbing cock with a low sigh, and he whispers in his ear, looking ahead. ] You little cockslut. You love this, don't you? Getting fucked in front of all these people. My dick's so deep inside you, baby. It's so easy for anyone to just turn and see what a filthy little whore you are.
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crossdressing 2
[ Steve looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, clipping the garters into place. He's done himself up tonight the way he knows Bucky loves, wanting to surprise him when he comes home after a long debriefing of the Winter Soldier's missions and HYDRA's activity. They're always rough on him, those sessions; he'll be exhausted when he comes home and sometimes worse, sometimes sunk into a bleak, distant mood that Steve will spend a long time working him out of. It's worth it to try to head some of that off by surprising him with the new garments he hasn't yet worn: with any luck, lust will take care of the rest.
He knows Bucky likes to see him in black lace, so that was what he concentrated on. He has new panties, and a pair of stockings that roll all the way up his thighs, the garters clipped into place; he's wearing heels, not too high but dainty, feminine, and a black corset that gently compresses his narrow ribs. He'd even thought about makeup, but decided against it. He's pink enough, his lips bitten to a sweet red blush.
Hearing the door open and close, Steve wavers in place; he should walk out to Bucky, strut the new lingerie as boldly as you please, and he smiles with wry embarrassment at himself in the mirror before calling out. ] Buck? I'm in here.
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[ Bucky's never been more glad to be home -- it had been a rough day, even worse than most, and the idea of spending the next few days with his Steve away from everyone else is a tantalizing idea. They have a good home together, and he's enjoying his lover's company, the way Steve always livens up his day whenever he's around.
He hears his voice from the bathroom and decides to head towards it, curious and wondering if he needs any help -- although he stops when he pushes open the door to see his pretty, lithe little lover in a corset, garters and stockings and heels, all lovely black lace that immediately go right to his groin.
Bucky swallows, wide eyed at the treat before him before he comes up behind Steve in the mirror, hands coming to rest at his waist as he draws close, eyes darkening with pleasure. ] Gonna put on a show for me, then?
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Steve smiles at him in the mirror, embarrassed but pleased. ] What kind of show would you like? [ He turns his head back over his shoulder, lifting a hand to Bucky's hair and tugging gently; Steve presses soft, hot kisses to the underside of his jaw, the heels giving him a couple of extra inches in height to help. He murmurs there, tormenting: ] You already missed the striptease.
[ His body feels sheathed by lace and stays, the corset encasing him in its gentle grasp. Bucky by contrast is black leather and fatigues, head to toe, the gleaming metal arm standing out in a startling way, brutal where Steve is soft and feminine. The sensation of being possessed is unmistakable, arousing; Steve leans back against him, a little off-balance in the heels, trusting Bucky to easily take his weight. ]
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He knows the stark contrast that they make, Steve's soft lines against Bucky's harsher, more unforgiving ones, and he nuzzles at him in return, pressing his groin up against that perky little ass. There are so many things he wants to do to him right now, and his metal hand comes to splay possessively over Steve's stomach, tracing over the lovely material.
Pressing kisses to his shoulder, he gently bites, leaves a hickey blossoming on his skin. ] It's okay, I'd rather strip it all off you anyway. You're so pretty, Stevie. You wanna be my girl, don't you?
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His breath hitches again as Bucky's teeth dig gently into his shoulder, his eyes drawn to the faint mark his mouth leaves on his skin, soon to darken to a bruise. His own cock is starting to tent out the front of his panties, and Steve feels himself flush at the question, not denying it. He's marked, possessed, dolled up in lace and stays and it's all for Bucky, all to make himself sweet and soft for him.
His eyes meet his lover's in the mirror. ] You--you used to have lots of girls, Buck. [ Reaching behind him, Steve cups the swell of Bucky's cock, kneading the heel of his hand gently against it. ] But I always wanted to be your favorite. Wished I was a girl, sometimes, just so you'd look at me. I'd be your little wife, give you everything you needed.
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punishment
This one wasn't supposed to turn dangerous. It was only supposed to be a simple sweep of an old HYDRA facility; their intelligence had told them there should be no one left guarding the place, and the firefight had been an entirely unexpected thing. Steve may not have the strongest sense of self-preservation, but he wouldn't be foolish enough to insist on putting himself directly in the line of fire, not with Bucky in his charge, with so much to lose if Steve were hurt or God forbid, killed; but damn it, he isn't helpless, he knows how to fire a gun, he knows how to keep himself alive. No one needs to keep him wrapped up in cotton batting like a child. He regrets scaring Bucky, but he doesn't regret going.
As always, Steve can smell a confrontation brewing a mile away, and he faces it head-on once he and Bucky are in private, back home where they can let their guard drop for each other. ] Hey, Buck. [ He makes his voice gentle, reaching for his best friend's hand. Steve doesn't want to fight with him. He loves him, wants to soothe him, make it better as best as he can. ] It's okay, you know. We're okay. Next time we'll be better prepared, take more precaution.
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Steve shouldn't have been there -- he shouldn't have allowed the smaller man to talk himself on it; should probably have tied him up and kept him locked at home just so he doesn't get himself out and about into trouble. It was a narrow shave, and Bucky can't help running it over and over again in his head, seeing the worst case scenario and hating himself for not putting up more of an argument.
Steve shouldn't be out there in the field at all; he has no business being where Bucky is, not when he's the most important person in Bucky's world. If he loses Steve, he loses everything, and Bucky had been terrified in the split second where it lookedlike he was going to be targeted.
And when they reach home, his rage, his anger hasn't abated in the least. He's glad Steve is safe with him; that's all he can ever ask for, but he grabs a hold of Steve's wrist, his gaze burning, ferocious. ]
No more. There'll be no next time for you, Steve.
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I know my limits, Bucky. This is the real me, remember? Back in Brooklyn, how I used to pick all those fights? But it's not about having something to prove anymore. I've got to do what I can. Being like this--it doesn't make me helpless.
[ He's firm on that point, his earnest gaze imploring Bucky to understand. Steve knows how badly Bucky wants to protect him. He just can't let him keep him in a cage, keep him locked away so safe that he'll never be permitted to help anyone, or protect Bucky in turn. ]
I'm sorry I scared you. I really am. [ Steve lowers his head to kiss Bucky's fingers, soft and sweet. He'll prove it to him, whatever it takes. Steve will never let him suffer again. ]
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But this is different, right? This is Steve getting himself into all sorts of trouble, and Bucky fighting hard to keep him alive, to keep him safe. He doesn't release his grip, doesn't buy a word of what Steve's saying because all he thinks of is the man hurt, or even worse, and he's not sure what he would do if Steve is injured on his account.
He's Bucky's to care for, to love and to protect, and he scowls at him -- no. No, he doesn't understand. He doesn't want him to get out there and get injuries; Steve's more fragile now that he's back in this form, and his anger doesn't abate. ]
You're not sorry. [ He twists his fingers after the kiss, grips Steve's jaw and forces him to look up, his eyes stormy with cold anger. ] You're going to keep doing it.
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D/s
They left Bucky with him like this, and he's the only one who can fix it.
When they get home he quietly tells Bucky to put his gear away, then leads him into the living room. It doesn't surprise him that he follows his orders, some of the soldier still lingering in him. Steve sits in one of the oversized chairs--built for supersoldiers--and looks Bucky over as he stands in the middle of the floor. He's beautiful, he always is, clad in black from head to toe like a ghost, a shadow. He looks at him, and then he gets up and goes to him, and the first thing Steve does is unbuckle his belt, sliding it carefully out of the loops of his fatigues. It's big and wide, flat, good for the purpose he means to put it to. ]
Take your clothes off, Buck. [ Steve's voice is quiet but firm. He knows what Bucky needs from him. He won't be able to get past this, he won't be able to let go and forgive himself without Steve showing him the way. He steps back to watch him, his beautiful, lethal soldier, stripping himself down to skin at Steve's orders. When he's naked, he tells him to kneel. ]
Tell me what you did wrong. [ Steve touches his face with one hand, tracing his thumb across his cheekbone. It's better to hear it from Bucky's lips, to understand exactly what he thinks he needs to atone for. ]