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wake, beloved

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Steve’s only half awake. He had a long night, he’ll let himself sleep in today, and that’s what he thinks as he tries to roll over and fall back asleep— 

He can’t move. 

Groggy, he pulls his arms again only to feel resistance. One eye open, he investigates to see that yes he’s still in his bed, but he’s also chained down. 

He has a moment of ????? before his brain wakes up enough for him to realize what’s happened. 

“Buck,” he groans and sinks back into the bedding. His treacherous dick is starting to harden, which should be ridiculous, but he’s gotten hard in more ridiculous circumstances. Waking up in his own bed, tied down by his boyfriend? Perfectly reasonable, all things considered. “Buck, lemme go, yeah?” 

There’s movement in the shadows, the one part of the room the sunlight hasn’t reached yet. 

No answer. 

Steve sighs. He tests the chains as subtly as he can. Vibranium, he thinks, but an alloy. He could break it, probably, but it’d take some effort. Considering it’s Bucky that’s got him tied up, it’s not worth the effort. 

Well, it’s at least a little Bucky. Usually when he feels the need to restrain Steve, it’s at best 50/50. 

“Buck?” he tries, holds his breath as he waits. When the seconds drag on to minutes, he sighs and asks, “Soldier?” 

Bucky steps forward. His eyes are steely, eyeing Steve like he’s an unknown quantity, an enemy. It’s not an unfamiliar look, even if it still hurts. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve soothes. He goes pliant against the chains. “I don’t mind. If this is what you need to feel safe, it’s fine.” 

There’s a flash of something that crosses his expression, something that’s more Bucky than Winter Soldier. Something softer, thankful and apologetic, and Steve nods back. If this is the direction Bucky’s mind goes on rough days, he’s more than ready to help him work through it. 

“Spread your legs,” Bucky says, the emotion not quite gone from his voice, but definitely muted. Just last night over dinner, Bucky had gone on and on about how much he’d love Steve back before the war, his voice all music and poetry and unabashed devotion. 

It’d been worse, the first few times Bucky had disappeared suddenly behind the Soldier, so Steve counts it as a win that he can still find any of Bucky close to the surface. 

Steve spreads his legs. 

He’s fairly certain he’d gone to bed wearing at least his boxers, maybe even sweatpants and a shirt. As he stretches in invitation, he feels nothing but his bare skin against the thin blanket. 

How many years now he’s been a soldier, unable to get a decent night’s sleep unless he’s bone tired and waking up to reach for his shield whenever there’s even the faintest breeze? And somehow he’d slept soundly through Bucky not only undressing him but tying him up. Apparently even unconscious, he doesn’t have it in him to view Bucky as a threat. 

“Можно я тебя трахну?” Bucky asks, his hand palming his dick through the loose shorts he often wears to bed. 

Steve frowns at him. He’s been taking Russian lessons with Nat to surprise Bucky, but he doesn’t understand enough of the question to be able to respond. 

Bucky stills for a moment, momentarily lost in concentration. It’s like this, when he slips too far into the Soldier and he doesn’t know which language is which anymore. He has to flip a switch, actively make Bucky Barnes come a little bit more to the surface, and sometimes it takes more effort than others. Steve waits patiently, and is finally rewarded with an answer. 

“Can I fuck you?” Bucky asks, a proud half-smile pulling at his lips. It’s so Bucky , that smile. How many times has Steve seen him flash that particular smile to get them out of trouble when they were kids or to flirt with his latest crush? 

Now he was using it on Steve, like it didn’t make Steve’s heart nearly explode out of his chest. 

“Yes,” Steve manages to say and somehow spreads his legs wider. His dick tents the sheets obscenely and fuck, all he wants is Bucky’s hands on him right now or he might explode. “Please.” 

Bucky’s on the bed then. He rips the sheet away and discards it on the ground, useless and forgotten, so he can settle between Steve’s legs. He leans over him, their chests pressed together and their cocks tantalizingly close but not touching, not yet.

“Kiss?” he asks, eyes fixed on Steve’s lips. 

Steve whimpers and nods. 

“Say it,” Bucky scolds him. His arms trace the lengths of Steve’s; he traces the cuffs around his wrists and then holds them there, adding that little extra pressure to remind Steve that he’s trapped. His lips ghost across Steve’s cheek, the barest hint of contact that he could easily be imagining. “Ask me.” 

In the aftermath of everything Bucky went through, all the time he’s spent trying to put himself together piece by piece, it still amazes Steve that it can be like this. That Bucky can slip into the Soldier and be rough and demanding, but he still makes sure Steve’s on board. He needs to hear that this is okay, that he’s allowed to take. 

As if Steve’s ever denied Bucky anything. 

“Buck,” Steve whines. He’s trembling, he’s so desperate, but he manages to force out the words. “Kiss me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want to me. Please.” 

He’s rewarded with a kiss. It’s deep and claiming and draws a long moan from Steve. He loses himself in the kiss, in the taste of Bucky and the feel of him claiming him again. When Bucky finally breaks away, Steve chokes back a sob and blindly chases him until the chains stop him. 

“Too many clothes, любимый,” Bucky reassures him and oh, Steve knows that word. It was one of the first ones he asked Nat about. He’s heard Bucky say it to him so many times, whispered in tender moments or when he thinks Steve’s asleep. Never in English, like it’s a secret he’s too scared to share with Steve. 


He’s drunk on it, can’t hide his smile at the implications of it. It makes him ridiculously giddy, almost laughing in happiness. Bucky loves him. It doesn’t matter if Bucky can’t say it more than that, he says it with that one word and with the attention he lavishes on Steve.

His attention is brought back to the present as Bucky sits back on his heels. He pulls off his shirt in one fluid motion, beautiful tan skin and taut muscle now on display and making Steve’s mouth water. Next he’s scrambling out of his shorts and briefs, gloriously naked where he rests between Steve’s thighs. 

“Beautiful,” Steve whispers, then startles slightly when he realizes he’s said it out loud. 

“You shouldn’t still be able to talk,” Bucky teases. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks; it embarrasses him, when Steve says nice things to him. He still doesn’t think he deserves any of this, and if Steve’s ever too open with his affection, he tries to brush it off. Normally Steve would push a bit more, but he’s cut off by another kiss before Bucky growls, “Let’s see what I can do to shut you up.” 

Alright then. No talking.

If he were a little more awake (and if this were just a smidge more Bucky than Soldier), he’d be running his mouth. Anything to get Bucky pinching him with a scowl he can barely hold because he wants to laugh. Instead he bites his lip and tries to sit up a bit so he can get a better view of Bucky between his legs. 

Where the lube came from, he has no idea, but Bucky’s warming it up between his fingers. He’s staring at Steve’s hole and licking his lips. That’s the only warning Steve gets before Bucky’s tongue and fingers are there, working in tandem to stretch him open quick and messy. 

“Buck…” and then he really is incapable of coherent speech if the meaningless sounds he babbles after that are any indication. 

“Much better,” Bucky says and then his mouth is back to work. 

It’s unfair how skilled he is with his tongue. Not that Steve can find it in him to be upset. He’s got about two functioning brain cells left at the moment, and one’s hoping Bucky will hurry up and fuck him while the other is hoping Bucky never stops. 

“You look good like that,” Bucky praises. He’s licking his lips and pumping three fingers into Steve’s hole. “All fucked out and I haven’t even gotten my dick in you yet.” 

When Bucky crooks his fingers and hits Steve’s prostate, he jerks violently against the chains. They don’t give at all, and Bucky presses his advantage. Once, twice, nearly a dozen times, he purposefully sends Steve dangerously close to the edge. There’ll be bruises on his wrists, his throat is already rough from holding back an endless litany of curses. 

And Steve loves every second of it. 

“No….” he manages when he feels Bucky’s fingers disappear. He’s too empty and he hates it. He’s hard and leaking and oh so desperate, and Bucky’s going to stop! ? It’s blasphemy, it’s unfair, it’s so damn cruel Steve wants to break free just to reclaim what Bucky’s so unfairly stolen and— 

“Shhh, любимый.” Bucky strokes the inside of his thigh. “I wouldn’t leave you like this. I’ll give you more. You’ll be allowed your release.” 

They’re just words, empty promises that Steve can’t quite put together into anything meaningful until he feels the pressure of Bucky’s cock pushing against his rim. The blunt head teases him for long seconds until Bucky finally shows mercy and slides inside. 

“Ohhh…” Steve sighs, relaxing against his bindings. The burn’s still there despite being prepped for what felt like ages, but it doesn’t bother him. If anything, the slight pain keeps him from coming right then. He can relax into it as Bucky sinks into him inch by inch, knowing full well he’s about to get what he really wants. 

“If I’d known how good you looked around my dick,” Bucky says with a hint of his old Brooklyn accent, “I’d have fucked you when we were teenagers.” 

“Wasn’t ready,” Steve grunts because it’s true. He’d spent a lot of time mourning what he and Bucky could have been, but he’d let it all go in the wake of what they’ve become. As good as things would’ve been back then, they’re better now. The people they are now, the world as it is, it’s a better place for them to finally give in and explore each other like they deserve. 

Steve wants to say all this to Bucky, to absolve him of any guilt he might feel, but he can’t. He can barely think it before Bucky’s moving and then the sentiment—and any hope of putting it into words—is lost. 

“You don’t look ready now,” Bucky says as he thrusts in shallowly. He watches Steve writhe beneath him, already craving more, with a smug look that Steve kind of adores. 

“Shut up,” he grunts. His legs aren’t bound, so he wraps them around Bucky’s waist to urge him towards a faster pace. 

“You’re suck a punk.” 

And then words fail even Bucky as he falls into a brutal rhythm. 

If this were them fucking after lazy morning kisses or after making out on the couch, if this were the two of them in the warmth of the shower or the safety of a shared twilight, this would be slower. If it were Bucky and Steve, best friends turned lovers, it would show in the worshipful way they took care of each other. 

Right now it’s more Winter Soldier and Captain America, men of war who are seeking pleasure from the other’s body. It’s rough and it stings and it’s far too fast to last long, not with both of them this far gone already. 

Steve strains against the cuffs. His ankles press into Bucky’s back as he tries to urge Bucky deeper. He moans with every thrust in, whines each time Bucky pulls back out. His back arches when Bucky finally, blissfully puts a hand on his dick and starts jerking him off. 

“You gonna come for me?” Bucky’s breath is hot in his ears. His dick twitches in response and he does his best to nod in answer. He may or may not manage to so successfully. 

“Fucking gorgeous, you know that?” It’s only when Bucky’s really close that he begins babbling like this, and it never fails to make Steve’s heart feel like it’s about to burst. “Most beautiful thing I ever saw. If you’d slept in any longer, I’d have jerked off looking at you, all tied up on the bed. All mine. You mine, Rogers?” 

This time he does manage a breathless, “Yes!”

“Good. Now come, yeah? Wanna see you fall apart…” 

Never able to deny Bucky anything, he comes a few seconds later. The world whites out, and it’s only the feeling of Bucky coming inside him that starts to bring the world back into focus. 

There’s come on his chest, leaking out of him, and a very Bucky Barnes collapsed on his chest; he’s panting, and that’s how Steve realizes he’s panting, each labored inhale and exhale matched. 

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters after incalculable minutes; Steve can only measure time by the returned steadiness to his heartbeat. Bucky’s limbs seem heavy as he rolls off of Steve and starts digging through the drawer of the nightstand. “Dunno why I did that.” 

“You apologising for sex?” Steve asks wryly. 

Bucky’s ears turn red. “Not what I’m sorry about.” 

He finds what he’s looking for—a small metal key—and unlocks Steve’s right arm. He uses his newfound freedom to curl his arm around Bucky and pull him right back to Steve’s side, because if he doesn’t, he know Bucky will just finish his work untying him and try to slink away and sulk. 

“Sometimes I just get my wires crossed and I—” 

Steve presses a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “You don’t have to apologise for this either. I told you, I trust you. You can do whatever you want to me, I’m yours.”  

“Ты слишком хорош для меня,” Bucky says. When Steve checks his eyes, they’re clear and blue; no sign of the Soldier lurking at the edges. Which means he’s chosen Russian on purpose, trying to hide sentimentality behind another language. 

“You know my Russian’s shit,” Steve scolds. He runs his free hand through Bucky’s hair, applying pressure as he massages and hopes he can gently coax the words out. “What’d you say, darling?” 

“You’re too good to me,” Bucky mumbles, eyes downcast. 

It hurts a little, in ways Bucky probably doesn’t intend or consider. Steve is in no way too good for Bucky; if he were anywhere close to as good as Bucky deserves, he’d never have lost his arm and he certainly wouldn’t have been fucked over by Hydra. If Steve were a better soldier, a better friend, a better man, he’d have been able to do something . He’d have known they had Bucky, or he would have at least looked for his body. Fuck, he would have stretched his hand a little more—  

He stops himself from going too far down that path. It doesn't lead anywhere worth going, not when Bucky’s here in his bed. 

Besides, that’s not what Bucky meant at all. It wasn’t a jab at Steve’s insecurities or a way to hurt him for past failures. It’s Bucky’s insecurities and failures that are hiding beneath his words. 

“You know, I’ve punched people for saying shit like that about you,” Steve says. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s temple, his cheek, the side of his nose, the corner of his lips. “So stop saying it about yourself, or I might have to punch you, too.” 

“Gee, you’re so romantic, Steven.” Bucky rolls his eyes in exasperation, but Steve can see that he’s amused. 

“It’s the truth.” One more kiss, this one squarely on his lips. “Don’t say shit about my boyfriend, or maybe next time it’ll be you tied up until you learn some damn manners.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Start being nicer to my boyfriend and you won’t have to find out. Don’t push me, Barnes, I ain’t as good a guy as you think I am.” He tries to bring his left arm around Bucky to completely encircle him, only to realise he’s still chained. “Son of—You gonna finish untying me?” 

You’re the one who stopped me. And hey, maybe I like having you stuck in bed.”

“I can make breakfast,” Steve offers, “but I’m gonna need two hands.” 

“”Sold. I want pancakes.” He rolls over Steve, their naked bodies pressed together as Bucky strains to reach Steve’s other wrist. “And eggs. And bacon. And orange juice.” 

“And a shower? You just rubbed jizz all over yourself.” 

“That an offer?”

The metal cuff clicks open and Steve immediately scoops Bucky into his arms. “More like an order, Soldier. Let’s shower then eat and then maybe go for a round two.” 

“Mmm my kind of morning.”