囤文reciaim
Bucky doesn’t like touching Steve with his left hand. He presses it into the mattress when they fuck, letting his right have all the fun while cold fingers clench into a fist around the sheets. He hates it. It’s everything about himself that he can’t stand, the one reminder of his past that he can’t ignore. Not even with Steve.
Steve knows. Every time his fingers skate across the metal Bucky flinches, and Steve’s eyes close for a second before he removes his hand. Stubborn bastard keeps trying too. He never says anything, just keeps touching it with his fingertips, gentle enough to make Bucky move away, because that arm has never been used for anything but death and destruction, and here is Steve running his fingertips over it like it’s worth something. Like he’s worth something.
They don’t talk about it. Bucky’s alright with that. It’s a system, sort of. They’re together, which is a goddamn miracle in itself if you ask him, but Steve doesn’t seem to think of it that way. He always looks at Bucky like he’s wonderful, and it eats at him. Makes something twist in his gut thinking that Steve could want him, that Steve is with him, Steve lets Bucky fuck him. But he’s always been selfish, so he’ll take what he can get. Steve just doesn’t seem to understand that he doesn’t deserve any of it.
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The first kiss isn’t enough to wake him, but Bucky shivers in his sleep. His arm is cold against Steve’s lips, foreign, but only because he’s never allowed to touch it. Steve starts at the top, where scarred skin meets metal, kissing down the seam and trailing his tongue across where the two touch, enjoying the change in temperature. Bucky shifts again, left hand curling into a fist and then back out. Steve smiles. Sleep is the only time he ever looks at peace.
When Tony had looked over the arm, he’d told Steve it was just as sensitive as flesh as he pressed his fingers down on the joint. Bucky had been still the whole time, but not still like he was with Steve. Tony had put his hands all over the metal and Bucky hadn’t said a word. Steve pushes the thought aside and lets his teeth graze Bucky’s skin.
That draws a noise from him, and Bucky starts, eyes opening. Steve opens his mouth to run his tongue along one of the grooves on his bicep. Bucky stares blearily, confused.
“Don’t.” Is the first word out of his mouth, strangled and quiet as Steve kisses the crook of his elbow. Bucky can’t move away, he just presses further down into the mattress like maybe he can sink into it and away.
Steve pulls away enough to speak, eyes trained on Bucky’s pained expression. “Buck, c’mon. I’m in this for all of you.” He moves up, pressing his lips to Bucky’s throat. “That includes this.” His fingers slip between Bucky’s metal ones.
“That’s not me.” Bucky insists, hating himself for wanting more of the warmth that Steve’s hand is radiating. The last time he’d had this flesh beneath his fingers, his hand was around Steve’s throat. It isn’t him. It’s Hydra, it’s the Winter Soldier, and Bucky can barely separate himself from those things without feeling guilty, but the metal monstrosity that they fused to his broken bones in that room is not part of him.
Steve, of course, nods like he understands, squeezing the metal hand once more before pulling his own away and Bucky thinks he’s going to drop it. He always does. “We could make it yours.”
As usual, Steve surprises him. “Steve, there’s nothin--” He raises an eyebrow when Steve’s shirt hits the floor, really unable to help watching in appreciation. His sweatpants follow, and Bucky wonders whether aroused and confused are two feelings that should ever be paired up as Steve reaches for the nightstand. “You planning on telling me what you meant by that?”
“Yes.” Is Steve’s response, and Bucky can see the corner of his lips twist upwards as he finds the lube, making short work of opening it and spreading it on his own fingers.
Bucky hates watching. Steve’s great to look at, but better to touch, and he likes knowing that the noises Steve makes are for him. So when Steve doesn’t hesitate in laying back and pressing a finger inside himself, Bucky frowns.
Apparently they aren’t talking about the arm anymore.
“That’s my job.” He says lowly, moving to kneel between the blonde’s spread legs. Steve doesn’t answer, just tilts his head back invitingly and pushes another finger in beside the first. Bucky has to work to tear his eyes away from the frankly obscene sight of Steve stretching himself open. His gaze doesn’t travel far, and the frown he’d had turns to a smirk as he sets eyes on Steve’s cock, hard and heavy between his legs. His lips are around it in a matter of seconds.
Steve whines, a high, breathy noise that nobody but Bucky has ever heard. He sucks on the head and Steve pulls his fingers out. “Buck--” He gasps the word. There’s a second or two of fumbling before Steve is reaching down and pressing the lube into Bucky’s palm.
He doesn’t stop, just turns his gaze up to Steve, humming appreciatively at how taken apart he looks. The internet has plenty of theories as far as the two of them went, but none of them knows this. Nobody but Bucky knows how much Steve loves having something inside him.
Bucky’s tongue flicks over the tip of Steve’s dick, and the blonde shudders. He pulls off with a wet ‘pop’. “Gimme a second, gorgeous.” The flush that colors Steve’s cheeks draws a laugh from him, and there’s no helping the way Bucky leans up to kiss him, tongue sliding past lips already pink from being bitten at. He catches one between his teeth as he pulls away. “All that and you blush ‘cause I call you gorgeous.”
Steve rolls his eyes, but the effect is lost. Sarcasm doesn’t work too well when you’re under someone and panting for it.
The smile fades from Bucky’s face when he sees what hand Steve put the bottle in. He should have known avoiding the subject wouldn’t be this easy. ‘We could make it yours.’… Steve wants him to…
“Please.” Steve breaks the silence, and Bucky wonders how he always knows when to jump in and stop him from getting too lost in his own head.
“No.” He says, and then at the hurt look on Steve’s face, “Why?”
When it comes to sex, Bucky’s always been the one with the dirty mouth. Even back when they weren’t together he’d come home and tell Steve about his exploits in more detail than was strictly necessary. And now that they’re finally something more than friends, Bucky loves to see how much he can wind Steve up just by talking, so Steve’s words are surprising to say the least.
“I know what you think when you look at it, Buck. You see everything you’ve ever destroyed using that, all the damage it’s done. I want…” Steve licks his lips. “I want to replace that. So every time you look at your arm, or your hand, all you’ll remember is having your fingers buried in my ass.”
Bucky’s throat feels like sandpaper. He swallows hard, eyes moving between Steve and the bottle in his palm.
Steve apparently takes the silence as a desire for clarification, so he repeats himself. “I want you to make me come on your fingers.”
He doesn’t have time to hate himself for how much he wants to do that too, because before Bucky can process, he’s nodding, agreeing because that’s what people always did with Steve. It only takes one look and no matter what he’s suggesting Bucky will nod because he always looks so damn earnest. Even when he’s naked and asking to be fucked.
Answering with words isn’t something Bucky thinks he can do, but the click of the lube opening is enough to make Steve smile, blue eyes half lidded and staring down at him through long lashes.
Bucky always remembers how in love he is at the most inopportune moments.
The metal is cold, he’s sure, but Steve doesn’t even flinch as Bucky presses his index finger in to the third knuckle.
Steve lets out a low, drawn out yes, pressing down onto Bucky’s finger and rocking his hips. Bucky has to wrap a hand around the base of his cock to steady himself, adding another finger out of impatience. They both know that if he wanted to he could keep Steve here all day, pushing the limits of the serum until both of them were spent, but that’s not what Steve had asked for.
“Bucky--” Steve rolls his hips down against Bucky’s fingers, mouth falling open as they curl upward. The action is clumsier than usual given that Bucky has never used this hand, but he repeats the motion and Steve arches up with a loud gasp, so he doesn’t think it’s that much of a problem. “Another. C’mon, I’m already in my nineties.” Steve breathes.
Bucky laughs, but he doesn’t deny Steve, watching the third metal digit disappear inside of him and leaning down to swallow Steve’s moan with a kiss.
The brunette’s lips curl into a smirk against Steve’s, and he pulls his fingers almost all the way out. Steve can’t protest because his mouth is full of Bucky’s tongue, but he makes a strangled little whimper that nearly tips Bucky over the edge right there, and Bucky pushes his fingers back in hard and fast, curling them against Steve’s prostate without a hint of warning.
Steve damn near screams into Bucky’s mouth, hands fisted in the sheets and then clawing at the other man’s back as his hips roll, desperate for something more, anything Bucky is willing to give.
“Close, Bucky-- Bucky, Buck--” He murmurs against Bucky’s lips.
Bucky watches, rapt, at the way Steve’s muscles are pulled taut, head thrown back as he fucks himself on the other’s fingers. He could live a thousand years and it would still be the best thing he’s ever seen.
It’s all Bucky can do to keep his hand moving and not reach down to grab his own aching cock, but that would ruin it. He wants to see Steve. Bucky bats Steve’s hand away where he’s reaching for his, pinning it down to the mattress. “No. You said you’d come on my fingers.”
How Steve can possibly look smug right then is a mystery, but he manages. It only adds to the sight of him, spread out in front of Bucky, head back, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. He nods at Bucky’s words, drawing that sinful lower lip between his teeth and fucking down on Bucky’s hand with force that might have broken something if it weren’t made of metal.
The sound Steve makes when he comes is barely audible, a sharp intake of breath trailing into a whine as Bucky works him through it, oversensitized and shaking.
“Damn, Steve…” Bucky breathes when it’s over, pulling his fingers out. The grooves in the metal are clotted with lube, and for once, the sight of his hand doesn’t make him sick. He laughs, grinning wide and surging up to kiss Steve. “You’re right too often.” The brunette murmurs between kisses, scattering them across the man’s face and jawline.
Steve laughs with him, still coming down from the high. “You argue too much.” He counters breathlessly, tugging at Bucky’s hips. “Now get up here, I owe you something.”
For once, Bucky doesn’t argue.