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browngirlTitle: Stand Your Friend
Fandom: Captain America: The First Avenger
Rating: NC-17 with warnings.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes / Steve Rogers
Summary: One of Steve and Bucky's first times.
Content Advisory: Set pre-movie; the year's unspecified but they're doubtless underage.
Acknowledgements:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dsudis and summercomfort :D
Disclaimer: This fanwork has been created for pleasure only and not for profit.
Title from The Thousandth Man by Rudyard Kipling, a paean to "with you till the end of the line"-type friendship.
Author's Note: Just a bonbon while I work on several other things. I hope to post a fair number and assortment of stories in the not too distant future.
Bucky drifts awake lying on his side, to midnight's streetlight glow and Steve's huffing breaths. Worry jerks him fully awake, but a moment of listening settles his nerves -- it's not the airless sort of gasping. Warm with the realization of what Steve's doing, curled up back to trembling back, Bucky smirks silently and shuts his eyes again. He's ready to fake sleeping as he soaks up all Steve's little aroused noises, to feel Steve shiver through coming and conk out again, to jerk off himself as soon as he's reasonably sure Steve's completely passed out.
At least, that's his plan until Steve growls in gravelly frustration. Ever since Steve's voice broke Bucky still gets surprised sometimes by its baritone depth, so resonant from his narrow little chest. "Ugh," Steve mutters, and Bucky rolls enough to look over his shoulder into Steve's eyes, wide in the dimness, looking into his. "Buck, hey, did I wake you?"
"No, the snorting elephant did." Bucky tips further, onto his back, and Steve slumps over onto his chest, squirming to get comfortable. They've slept tucked together their whole lives, or so it seems, and it doesn't have to be any different now.
Except for how sometimes it completely is. "Sorry," Steve mumbles, and Bucky prods him in the ribs with fingers that want to push up under Steve's tee and spread out over his skin. "Sorry, okay! It just..."
It is completely obvious, poking well out of Steve's fist, slick and shiny even in the low light. "Spit it out," Bucky orders, pushing his voice down into his own still-novel rumble.
Steve huffs again, looking away as if Bucky can't tell his mood by how his hair lies. "It's not working," he mutters. "Maybe'm too worn out to get off, I dunno. Can't sleep either."
Bucky hums judiciously, clinging to his cool as his heart thumps beneath the crest of Steve's shoulder, and drags his hand away from Steve into a fist. He can't offer, he shouldn't want to. "Maybe...?" rolls off his tongue anyway.
A nervy ripple goes through Steve, he presses closer to Bucky from head to thigh. "Yeah," he breathes on a long sigh, pulling his fingers off his dick. "Yeah, thanks."
"Don't mention it." Bucky reaches forward, braking his grab down to easy, and Steve catches his hand, palm to palm. He twitches with shock, realizing a second later that Steve's just wiping the remaining slick onto his fingers. "Where's the jar?" comes out kind of choked.
"Dropped it, rolled somewhere." Steve slides the touch up the back of Bucky's hand, sending a surge down all his nerves, pulsing into his own dick so he has to bite his lip sharply to drive it down. "Come on," Steve asks, wrapping his fingers around Bucky's wrist, tugging sharply. "Doesn't matter, c'mon you slowpoke! Please."
"Since you asked so nicely," Bucky breathes into Steve's ear and doesn't let himself wonder how its translucent curve would fit between his lips. He curves his hand around Steve's dick, hot and hard and eager, and Steve sighs fervently, tipping towards Bucky, between sideways and facing. "Mmm, better?" Bucky asks as he starts stroking. "Wanna story too?" he's been telling Steve stories for years, to keep him in bed, to make him laugh, and nowadays sometimes to get him off. In return Steve draws, pictures Bucky described to him, ideas for new fantasies, and Bucky thinks back over the last couple of girls Steve doodled, their round cheeks and tits and hips, their pursed lips and sassy smiles.
But Steve sighs again, puffing after. "I want," he starts, but doesn't finish, and his hand lands on Bucky's bare belly, damp and pressing lightly. Rolling his wrist evenly, Bucky looks to Steve's face to check his progress, and finds Steve's eyes closed and huge under their silky lids, lashes fanned out long and thick, shiny wet lips pushed apart, heated breath rushing between them. No matter how many glances he steals when they're jerking it together once Steve's eyes squeeze shut with effort, or when Steve lends him a hand, head bent to watch what he's doing as Bucky leans back and enjoys it, the sight of Steve all heated up never fails to light Bucky up too, setting his blood aflame. Steve's better looking than he lets himself realize, and more and more these days Bucky can't take his eyes off him no matter what. Steve's just so pretty, big eyes and full tender lips any dame would kill to have, delicate bones and gracefully sloped cheeks, even with his sharp chin and that long nose anchoring his face firmly in the realm of fellas. He's a fella and he's beautiful and he's Bucky's best guy and their noses brush,letting Bucky know how close he's leaned in, how close Steve's tucked to him.
Steve opens his eyes, wide and round and shining in the streetlight. There's no air in Bucky's lungs, just Steve lying warm and damp and trembling on his chest.
Then all Bucky sees is the dark under his eyelids, because all he can feel is Steve's soft plump mouth pressed to his, Steve's dick twitching in his rolling grip. Steve's groan tingles Bucky's lips, nothing like hurt, Steve's fingers dig into the flesh over Bucky's ribs, Steve pushes into the kiss, squirming atop Bucky, flinging a leg across him. Bucky grabs Steve around the waist to keep hold of him, keeps his strokes going, tips his head back and pushes his tongue up like he learned from his last few dates. Steve's tongue touches his, a slick flicker and a lightning flash. Pleasure punches a moan out of Bucky and he shoves up openmouthed, pushing for more; Steve growls, vibrating deep, and gives it to him, their tongues stroking, their tingling lips pressing and sliding and caressing.
Steve shouts, shocking them both, and comes hard, his whole body shaking, his teeth bruising Bucky's lip. Even the pain feels good, sharp and sweet. Bucky should pull back, make sure Steve has enough air, but he can't any more than he could stop breathing himself. He just has to feel Steve's broken cries across his tongue and Steve's chest heaving against his, every bit as much as he can feel Steve pulsing in his hand and spattering his arm.
Steve moans and wrenches his head back with a noisy gasp. Bucky looks, and Steve's eyes are round and wild, gaze flicking all over him, all over them both. Bucky should grab the rag and clean them up, but Steve shifts his calf, pressing against Bucky's dick, making him ache and hiss. He didn't even feel himself get hard. From kissing Steve. He kissed Steve and Steve kissed him back. Tongue and all.
They stare at each other, panting.
Steve grabs a handful of Bucky's hair and slams their mouths together again. Bucky could push him off. He never ever would. Steve's fingers swipe down his wrist, gathering the come, and Bucky has one puzzled moment before Steve pushes that messy hand into his shorts, wrapping it around his dick, filthy and hot and unbelievable. Bucky's breath catches, lips pressed to Steve's, and Steve chuckles triumphantly and kisses deep and wet, stroking fast, rocking his whole body into it. All Bucky can do is grip Steve's hip, his fingers curved to solid bone under bare damp skin, press his hand behind Steve's pounding heart, and surrender to the whole overwhelming event of Steve pushing with everything in him towards making Bucky come.
It doesn't take nearly long enough, it hits like flying face first into a brick wall, waves of pleasure streaming and bouncing and colliding all through him, crashing and sinking and finally receding, taking a wonderfully long time to die away. Bucky finds his ears ringing and realizes he shouted, gasps and gasps and realizes Steve's panting hot breath over his wet lips, shudders all over with an aftershock and realizes he came all over both their chests.
Steve's panting mouth shapes into a loose smile, then a soft pucker as Steve gently smooches Bucky's lower lip. Bucky tries to laugh and can only groan, and clutch Steve like a teddy bear, and try to catch his breath.
Until he realizes what they did, and gasps, and shoves his eyes open again.
Steve's are crinkled at the corners, narrowed in a smile, until he sees the shock on Bucky's face and his eyes widen to match. This wasn't just lending a friendly hand. They tangled their legs and tongues, they shared air and moans. They could reason it away with what they didn't do, but Bucky sees the same understanding on Steve's face as glows inside him. This was fucking, sure as shit.
A big ball of warmth swells in Bucky's chest at the thought. Who would he ever want to share this with, like they share everything else, more than with Steve? But Steve's eyes are sinking, downcast, looking down at himself, and Bucky knows what he's thinking. He's not a girl, he's not a looker, irrelevant and untrue. Bucky has no idea how to say it, how to convince Steve, but at least he hasn't moved off, so Bucky slides a hand up behind his head, cupping the back of his neck. Steve's eyes flash back up, and Bucky manages to smile wide, still stunned like from a pipe to the head, and pulls Steve down for another kiss. With the sweetest little breathy moan Steve melts, as pliant as he was bossy before, and Bucky wraps his arm across Steve's back as they just kiss and kiss and kiss.
Eventually the stream of tonsil hockey breaks into individual kisses, spaced further and further apart. Eventually Steve yawns, dropping his head to the pillow, and Bucky yawns too, warm and heavy with satisfaction.
Eventually Bucky notices that Steve's shirt is sticky with come, that his dick's still out of his pajama pants, just as Steve's eyes drift shut and his face slackens. Bucky's tempted to follow him down into sleep, but first tucks himself away and peels Steve's shirt off him despite his mumbled protest. "You wanna be covered in jizz when --"
Eyes still closed, Steve shoves his fingers against Bucky's mouth before Bucky can finish with 'when your Ma gets home from her shift'. Bucky licks them, tasting bitter warmth, feeling fine-textured roughness, and bites gently on Steve's middle finger.
"Augh," Steve grumbles, pulling his hand back. "How're you still awake?"
Bucky flops down hard enough to make Steve bounce gently, the mattress squeaking protest. "'M sound asleep," he mutters, and drowns out Steve's groan with a loud fake snore.
"Asshole," Steve grumps, punching Bucky's arm. He rolls in, mashing his face to Bucky's shoulder, and Bucky tucks his forearm under Steve's waist. "Thanks," Steve mumbles, breath warm on Bucky's skin.
"No problem," Bucky tells him, reaching for that cool, trying to not make this more than it needs to be.
Steve's "I wanna do it again sometime," startles Bucky's eyes open again. He looks down and finds Steve looking up, eyes bright despite their sleepy sunkenness. "Like that, just now," Steve adds, slowly, clearly, making himself be brave.
Bucky wants to press his lips between Steve's hopeful eyes and everywhere else he can think of. "With the kissing?" he asks, so he can hear it.
"Yeah," Steve confirms for him. "With the kissing." And smiles, lips soft against Bucky's skin. "You're good at it."
"You're no slouch yourself." Steve's smile widens and Bucky can't keep from pulling him up for another kiss, another few, before he yawns helplessly and Steve laughs against his cheek.
"I'm boring you, Sleeping Handsome," Steve says, lightly enough that all the argument Bucky has to come up with is another kiss.
"Thought you were conking out," Bucky murmurs over Steve's mouth, enjoying how their lips brush, how their chests brush, how Steve trembles just slightly, just for him. He half wants another round or twenty, but he yawns again and Steve yawns with him, and nods in rare surrender.
"G'night, Buck," Steve tells him, with one more kiss, before sliding down to rest his head on Bucky's shoulder.
Bucky pulls Steve tight to his side, thinking hazily of how much more entangled they can get, all the ways they can sink into each other. "G'night, Stevie," he whispers back,and it feels so much bigger than the two words. Steve folds their hands together, resting on Bucky's chest, and it feels like a promise.
Fandom: Captain America: The First Avenger
Rating: NC-17 with warnings.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes / Steve Rogers
Summary: One of Steve and Bucky's first times.
Content Advisory: Set pre-movie; the year's unspecified but they're doubtless underage.
Acknowledgements:
dsudis and summercomfort :DDisclaimer: This fanwork has been created for pleasure only and not for profit.
Title from The Thousandth Man by Rudyard Kipling, a paean to "with you till the end of the line"-type friendship.
Author's Note: Just a bonbon while I work on several other things. I hope to post a fair number and assortment of stories in the not too distant future.
Bucky drifts awake lying on his side, to midnight's streetlight glow and Steve's huffing breaths. Worry jerks him fully awake, but a moment of listening settles his nerves -- it's not the airless sort of gasping. Warm with the realization of what Steve's doing, curled up back to trembling back, Bucky smirks silently and shuts his eyes again. He's ready to fake sleeping as he soaks up all Steve's little aroused noises, to feel Steve shiver through coming and conk out again, to jerk off himself as soon as he's reasonably sure Steve's completely passed out.
At least, that's his plan until Steve growls in gravelly frustration. Ever since Steve's voice broke Bucky still gets surprised sometimes by its baritone depth, so resonant from his narrow little chest. "Ugh," Steve mutters, and Bucky rolls enough to look over his shoulder into Steve's eyes, wide in the dimness, looking into his. "Buck, hey, did I wake you?"
"No, the snorting elephant did." Bucky tips further, onto his back, and Steve slumps over onto his chest, squirming to get comfortable. They've slept tucked together their whole lives, or so it seems, and it doesn't have to be any different now.
Except for how sometimes it completely is. "Sorry," Steve mumbles, and Bucky prods him in the ribs with fingers that want to push up under Steve's tee and spread out over his skin. "Sorry, okay! It just..."
It is completely obvious, poking well out of Steve's fist, slick and shiny even in the low light. "Spit it out," Bucky orders, pushing his voice down into his own still-novel rumble.
Steve huffs again, looking away as if Bucky can't tell his mood by how his hair lies. "It's not working," he mutters. "Maybe'm too worn out to get off, I dunno. Can't sleep either."
Bucky hums judiciously, clinging to his cool as his heart thumps beneath the crest of Steve's shoulder, and drags his hand away from Steve into a fist. He can't offer, he shouldn't want to. "Maybe...?" rolls off his tongue anyway.
A nervy ripple goes through Steve, he presses closer to Bucky from head to thigh. "Yeah," he breathes on a long sigh, pulling his fingers off his dick. "Yeah, thanks."
"Don't mention it." Bucky reaches forward, braking his grab down to easy, and Steve catches his hand, palm to palm. He twitches with shock, realizing a second later that Steve's just wiping the remaining slick onto his fingers. "Where's the jar?" comes out kind of choked.
"Dropped it, rolled somewhere." Steve slides the touch up the back of Bucky's hand, sending a surge down all his nerves, pulsing into his own dick so he has to bite his lip sharply to drive it down. "Come on," Steve asks, wrapping his fingers around Bucky's wrist, tugging sharply. "Doesn't matter, c'mon you slowpoke! Please."
"Since you asked so nicely," Bucky breathes into Steve's ear and doesn't let himself wonder how its translucent curve would fit between his lips. He curves his hand around Steve's dick, hot and hard and eager, and Steve sighs fervently, tipping towards Bucky, between sideways and facing. "Mmm, better?" Bucky asks as he starts stroking. "Wanna story too?" he's been telling Steve stories for years, to keep him in bed, to make him laugh, and nowadays sometimes to get him off. In return Steve draws, pictures Bucky described to him, ideas for new fantasies, and Bucky thinks back over the last couple of girls Steve doodled, their round cheeks and tits and hips, their pursed lips and sassy smiles.
But Steve sighs again, puffing after. "I want," he starts, but doesn't finish, and his hand lands on Bucky's bare belly, damp and pressing lightly. Rolling his wrist evenly, Bucky looks to Steve's face to check his progress, and finds Steve's eyes closed and huge under their silky lids, lashes fanned out long and thick, shiny wet lips pushed apart, heated breath rushing between them. No matter how many glances he steals when they're jerking it together once Steve's eyes squeeze shut with effort, or when Steve lends him a hand, head bent to watch what he's doing as Bucky leans back and enjoys it, the sight of Steve all heated up never fails to light Bucky up too, setting his blood aflame. Steve's better looking than he lets himself realize, and more and more these days Bucky can't take his eyes off him no matter what. Steve's just so pretty, big eyes and full tender lips any dame would kill to have, delicate bones and gracefully sloped cheeks, even with his sharp chin and that long nose anchoring his face firmly in the realm of fellas. He's a fella and he's beautiful and he's Bucky's best guy and their noses brush,letting Bucky know how close he's leaned in, how close Steve's tucked to him.
Steve opens his eyes, wide and round and shining in the streetlight. There's no air in Bucky's lungs, just Steve lying warm and damp and trembling on his chest.
Then all Bucky sees is the dark under his eyelids, because all he can feel is Steve's soft plump mouth pressed to his, Steve's dick twitching in his rolling grip. Steve's groan tingles Bucky's lips, nothing like hurt, Steve's fingers dig into the flesh over Bucky's ribs, Steve pushes into the kiss, squirming atop Bucky, flinging a leg across him. Bucky grabs Steve around the waist to keep hold of him, keeps his strokes going, tips his head back and pushes his tongue up like he learned from his last few dates. Steve's tongue touches his, a slick flicker and a lightning flash. Pleasure punches a moan out of Bucky and he shoves up openmouthed, pushing for more; Steve growls, vibrating deep, and gives it to him, their tongues stroking, their tingling lips pressing and sliding and caressing.
Steve shouts, shocking them both, and comes hard, his whole body shaking, his teeth bruising Bucky's lip. Even the pain feels good, sharp and sweet. Bucky should pull back, make sure Steve has enough air, but he can't any more than he could stop breathing himself. He just has to feel Steve's broken cries across his tongue and Steve's chest heaving against his, every bit as much as he can feel Steve pulsing in his hand and spattering his arm.
Steve moans and wrenches his head back with a noisy gasp. Bucky looks, and Steve's eyes are round and wild, gaze flicking all over him, all over them both. Bucky should grab the rag and clean them up, but Steve shifts his calf, pressing against Bucky's dick, making him ache and hiss. He didn't even feel himself get hard. From kissing Steve. He kissed Steve and Steve kissed him back. Tongue and all.
They stare at each other, panting.
Steve grabs a handful of Bucky's hair and slams their mouths together again. Bucky could push him off. He never ever would. Steve's fingers swipe down his wrist, gathering the come, and Bucky has one puzzled moment before Steve pushes that messy hand into his shorts, wrapping it around his dick, filthy and hot and unbelievable. Bucky's breath catches, lips pressed to Steve's, and Steve chuckles triumphantly and kisses deep and wet, stroking fast, rocking his whole body into it. All Bucky can do is grip Steve's hip, his fingers curved to solid bone under bare damp skin, press his hand behind Steve's pounding heart, and surrender to the whole overwhelming event of Steve pushing with everything in him towards making Bucky come.
It doesn't take nearly long enough, it hits like flying face first into a brick wall, waves of pleasure streaming and bouncing and colliding all through him, crashing and sinking and finally receding, taking a wonderfully long time to die away. Bucky finds his ears ringing and realizes he shouted, gasps and gasps and realizes Steve's panting hot breath over his wet lips, shudders all over with an aftershock and realizes he came all over both their chests.
Steve's panting mouth shapes into a loose smile, then a soft pucker as Steve gently smooches Bucky's lower lip. Bucky tries to laugh and can only groan, and clutch Steve like a teddy bear, and try to catch his breath.
Until he realizes what they did, and gasps, and shoves his eyes open again.
Steve's are crinkled at the corners, narrowed in a smile, until he sees the shock on Bucky's face and his eyes widen to match. This wasn't just lending a friendly hand. They tangled their legs and tongues, they shared air and moans. They could reason it away with what they didn't do, but Bucky sees the same understanding on Steve's face as glows inside him. This was fucking, sure as shit.
A big ball of warmth swells in Bucky's chest at the thought. Who would he ever want to share this with, like they share everything else, more than with Steve? But Steve's eyes are sinking, downcast, looking down at himself, and Bucky knows what he's thinking. He's not a girl, he's not a looker, irrelevant and untrue. Bucky has no idea how to say it, how to convince Steve, but at least he hasn't moved off, so Bucky slides a hand up behind his head, cupping the back of his neck. Steve's eyes flash back up, and Bucky manages to smile wide, still stunned like from a pipe to the head, and pulls Steve down for another kiss. With the sweetest little breathy moan Steve melts, as pliant as he was bossy before, and Bucky wraps his arm across Steve's back as they just kiss and kiss and kiss.
Eventually the stream of tonsil hockey breaks into individual kisses, spaced further and further apart. Eventually Steve yawns, dropping his head to the pillow, and Bucky yawns too, warm and heavy with satisfaction.
Eventually Bucky notices that Steve's shirt is sticky with come, that his dick's still out of his pajama pants, just as Steve's eyes drift shut and his face slackens. Bucky's tempted to follow him down into sleep, but first tucks himself away and peels Steve's shirt off him despite his mumbled protest. "You wanna be covered in jizz when --"
Eyes still closed, Steve shoves his fingers against Bucky's mouth before Bucky can finish with 'when your Ma gets home from her shift'. Bucky licks them, tasting bitter warmth, feeling fine-textured roughness, and bites gently on Steve's middle finger.
"Augh," Steve grumbles, pulling his hand back. "How're you still awake?"
Bucky flops down hard enough to make Steve bounce gently, the mattress squeaking protest. "'M sound asleep," he mutters, and drowns out Steve's groan with a loud fake snore.
"Asshole," Steve grumps, punching Bucky's arm. He rolls in, mashing his face to Bucky's shoulder, and Bucky tucks his forearm under Steve's waist. "Thanks," Steve mumbles, breath warm on Bucky's skin.
"No problem," Bucky tells him, reaching for that cool, trying to not make this more than it needs to be.
Steve's "I wanna do it again sometime," startles Bucky's eyes open again. He looks down and finds Steve looking up, eyes bright despite their sleepy sunkenness. "Like that, just now," Steve adds, slowly, clearly, making himself be brave.
Bucky wants to press his lips between Steve's hopeful eyes and everywhere else he can think of. "With the kissing?" he asks, so he can hear it.
"Yeah," Steve confirms for him. "With the kissing." And smiles, lips soft against Bucky's skin. "You're good at it."
"You're no slouch yourself." Steve's smile widens and Bucky can't keep from pulling him up for another kiss, another few, before he yawns helplessly and Steve laughs against his cheek.
"I'm boring you, Sleeping Handsome," Steve says, lightly enough that all the argument Bucky has to come up with is another kiss.
"Thought you were conking out," Bucky murmurs over Steve's mouth, enjoying how their lips brush, how their chests brush, how Steve trembles just slightly, just for him. He half wants another round or twenty, but he yawns again and Steve yawns with him, and nods in rare surrender.
"G'night, Buck," Steve tells him, with one more kiss, before sliding down to rest his head on Bucky's shoulder.
Bucky pulls Steve tight to his side, thinking hazily of how much more entangled they can get, all the ways they can sink into each other. "G'night, Stevie," he whispers back,and it feels so much bigger than the two words. Steve folds their hands together, resting on Bucky's chest, and it feels like a promise.
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