Work Header


Work Text:

He and Steve had been living in the neighborhood for nearly a year, so Bucky noticed it immediately when a new business appeared in the previously empty storefront next to their favorite bodega. (Well, it was Bucky's favorite bodega anyway; the store-owner's cat hissed at Steve and everyone else, but permitted Bucky to feed her scraps from his sandwich.)

An orange and black plastic banner on the face of the building announced the new store as "HALLOWEEN CITY". Stickers of spiders and skeletons decorated the window, through which Bucky could see rows and rows of costumes and wigs and accessories. 

He tugged Steve's hand. "Let's go check it out."

Steve acquiesced, letting Bucky lead him inside with a soft, indulgent look on his face. This was the kind of thing they'd been up to in the past year, since Steve had retired and Bucky had come back from Wakanda: exploring the twenty-first century, in all its marvels and ridiculousness, together. 

They wandered aimlessly, going aisle to aisle with no particular purpose. Bucky was especially fascinated by the decorations. There was one where, if somebody stepped on a hidden button, it triggered a spider to fall from the ceiling. Bucky tucked one of the boxes for that one under his arm.

Steve sighed. "Gonna try that with Sam later?"


Eventually, they made their way over to the adult men's costumes — specifically, the superhero costumes. All the Avengers were featured, and Bucky was happy to see the "Captain America" costume had the winged design that Sam wore. After laughing at a particularly terrible Sexy Professor Hulk outfit, they came across something that was arguably be more ridiculous. 

Wartime Bucky Barnes, the packaging declared, but the costume in the picture did not resemble anything Bucky had actually worn on the front lines. The model was wearing a belted, navy blue leotard with matching boots, a domino mask, and most offensively, bright red tights.

"Jesus Christ," Bucky huffed. He remembered the Captain America comics, of course, and the way the publishers had given his character that ridiculous outfit in order to drive sales in younger audiences. But, God, it was one of those things from the 40s that nobody should ever bring back. Like Jell-O salad and sodomy laws.

He turned to Steve, expecting to catch him laughing at his expense, but the expression on Steve’s face was not one of amusement. He was staring at the costume, mouth parted, eyes wide and dark. Bucky had decades of practice reading Steve's face and he knew this look especially well: Steve was turned on.

Well, Bucky thought as he lead Steve away to look at a nearby display of candy, the gears in his mind already turning. Maybe the perseverance of my comic book counterpart isn't such a bad thing after all .



"Hey Buck, I'm home!" Steve called out, setting his art supply bag on the counter. He was just getting back from the oil painting class he attended every Thursday night at the community center. Bucky didn't reply, but when Steve started toward the hallway, he could see dim light coming from the bedroom. 

"Buck?" he said and then went still when he reached the doorway.

There, kneeling on the bed, was Bucky, wearing the red and blue Wartime Bucky Barnes costume. Steve couldn't help his gaping; he didn't know where to look first. At the brass buttons of the blue leotard straining against Bucky's wide chest and thick stomach? The bright red tights stretched taut over his thighs? The obvious bulge between his legs that the thin fabric didn't have a chance at hiding?

"Oh," Steve said eloquently.

Bucky just gave him a shit-eating grin. Even with the domino mask covering his eyes, Steve could tell he was enjoying every second of Steve's flustered staring. Bucky brought his hands up and started undoing the buttons of the leotard, exposing his upper body. Steve's eyes followed the thatch of dark hair that trailed from Bucky's chest down below his belly button. Bucky, no doubt seeing exactly where Steve's gaze had landed, reached a hand down inside the costume and groped shamelessly at his now accessible dick. 

That was the last straw for Steve. He strode across the room and all but pushed Bucky down on the bed, straddling his hips and pinning him to the mattress. Steve leaned over him, putting his hands on Bucky's sides, feeling up his naked skin under the open fabric of the leotard. He kissed him, open mouthed and filthy, and Bucky melted into it, moaning as his lips parted for Steve's tongue and he ground their bodies together. 

"You're a jerk, you know that?" Steve said in between kisses, already hard from the sight of Bucky's body on display in that tight outfit and the heated way they were touching each other now. 

Bucky just smirked at him. "I wanna suck your dick like this," he said, voice low. "Would you like that? Watching me in these tights with my mouth on you?"

"Yeah," Steve panted, barely managing speech with the way Bucky's heady tone had his brain short-circuiting. They maneuvered themselves off the bed, and while Steve divested himself of his pants, Bucky sank to his knees. Steve couldn't stop staring at the way the tights stretched over the impressive width of Bucky's thighs; they looked practically about to rip.

Bucky took him in his mouth all the way, tongue running down Steve's entire length. Steve could already feel himself shaking with the heated lust that burned low in his belly — Bucky sucked dick like he was born to do it, and he knew exactly how to take Steve apart, knew every rhythm and motion that drove him closer to the edge.

Steve kept his eyes open, staring down in awe, mesmerized by the sight of Bucky's red, swollen lips around his dick. Bucky looked up at him through his eyelashes, the domino mask still on his face, and Steve knew he wasn't going to last very much longer.

"Touch yourself," he told Bucky, and Bucky did as Steve said, moaning around Steve’s dick as he gave himself pleasure. Steve watched him, able to see every obscene motion of Bucky's fingers beneath the tantalizingly tight blue fabric.

Steve came right then, letting out a strangled grunt as Bucky swallowed it all. Bucky was still stroking himself as he moved his lips slowly off Steve's dick, and it wasn't long before he came too, splattering all over his chest and staining the fabric of his leotard.

They both collapsed on the bed, breathing hard and wrapped around each other. Steve took the mask from Bucky's face and set it aside, kissing him sweetly.

"Thank you for that."

"It was my pleasure, Steve. Believe me."

"I'll have to return the favor next time." 

Bucky hummed contentedly at that idea. He closed his eyes, going soft and clingy the way he always did after they had sex. 

Steve laughed, hauling him in close, and said, "How do you feel about Professor Hulk?"

Without even opening his eyes, Bucky reached around, grabbed a pillow, and promptly smacked Steve in the face with it.