No One Ever Learns (Steve/Bucky, NC-17)
No One Ever Learns (Steve/Bucky, NC-17)
Fandom: Captain America
Pairing: Steve/Bucky
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 240
Summary: "Those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it." Sex with Bucky doesn't go as planned.
“Hey, Bucky,” said Steve Rogers, who was Captain America and also naked. “It’s sex time.” Bucky nodded and signed a consent treaty that allowed Steve to occupy his southern region.
Revved up, Steve took out his nine inches of freedom and wasted no time pulling into port in Bucky’s Black Sea. Bucky gasped, but offered less resistance than the Baltic fleet did at the Tsushima strait.
Steve was impressed. “Any more traffic in here and you’ll surpass Sevastapol’s maximum shipping capacity of six-hundred thousand tons per year!”
He reached around and stroked Bucky’s Crimean peninsula until it was almost at autonomous self-governance.
Bucky moaned. His Beyenchime-Salaatin crater was stretched to its limit and his North Ossetian gas pipeline was about to explode.
Steve moved further east, and Bucky’s Crimea was now a full-fledged Kamchatka peninsula. The pressure became too great and one of its twenty-nine active volcanoes erupted onto Steve's hand.
So close himself, Steve pressed on, thrusting deeper and deeper. He felt powerful as he passed through Smolensk, but began to fatigue soon after. He struggled to fend off raids by Cossacks.
Finally, Steve could go on no more. He collapsed onto the bed, defeated.
“How . . . what's happening?” He tried lifting an arm but was too weak.
Bucky leaned over him. “What’s the date, Steve?”
Steve answered in a daze. “December . . . fourteenth?”
Bucky closed his eyes.
“You never invade Russia in the winter,” he whispered.
Steve died of exposure.
Fandom: Captain America
Pairing: Steve/Bucky
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 240
Summary: "Those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it." Sex with Bucky doesn't go as planned.
“Hey, Bucky,” said Steve Rogers, who was Captain America and also naked. “It’s sex time.” Bucky nodded and signed a consent treaty that allowed Steve to occupy his southern region.
Revved up, Steve took out his nine inches of freedom and wasted no time pulling into port in Bucky’s Black Sea. Bucky gasped, but offered less resistance than the Baltic fleet did at the Tsushima strait.
Steve was impressed. “Any more traffic in here and you’ll surpass Sevastapol’s maximum shipping capacity of six-hundred thousand tons per year!”
He reached around and stroked Bucky’s Crimean peninsula until it was almost at autonomous self-governance.
Bucky moaned. His Beyenchime-Salaatin crater was stretched to its limit and his North Ossetian gas pipeline was about to explode.
Steve moved further east, and Bucky’s Crimea was now a full-fledged Kamchatka peninsula. The pressure became too great and one of its twenty-nine active volcanoes erupted onto Steve's hand.
So close himself, Steve pressed on, thrusting deeper and deeper. He felt powerful as he passed through Smolensk, but began to fatigue soon after. He struggled to fend off raids by Cossacks.
Finally, Steve could go on no more. He collapsed onto the bed, defeated.
“How . . . what's happening?” He tried lifting an arm but was too weak.
Bucky leaned over him. “What’s the date, Steve?”
Steve answered in a daze. “December . . . fourteenth?”
Bucky closed his eyes.
“You never invade Russia in the winter,” he whispered.
Steve died of exposure.