Fic: Stolen Moments by Bon; Winter Soldier (Bucky); Solo; R: 18
Title: Stolen Moments
Author: Bon
Prompt: 616 | Bucky Barnes | Slash? Het? Whatever masturbation comes under. | Jerking off with his roboarm. Any era since he got it, I guess.
Rating: 18
Word count: 1,120
Disclaimer: The characters and settings featured in this story are the property of Marvel Entertainment. This is a work of homage and no copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Masturbation
Author's notes: Set in Winter Soldier era in Soviet Russia. Hope you enjoy.
~#~#~
He pushed deeper into the alcove, letting the shadows cover him. Armed guards rushed past him, their heavy boots pounding against the linoleum. He held his breath, counting seconds. Five seconds. Six. Seven. Enough time for the last guard to turn the corner. He pushed away from the wall and continued down the corridor. His steps were light, barely making a sound as he moved.
The lock on the storage room's door barely posed a challenge. A good set of picks and a practiced hand clicked the tumblers into place and with only a moment's hesitation, he slipped into the room. He closed the door quickly but quietly, sighing in relief once it had clicked closed. He hunkered down in front of the door and again, using the picks, he locked the door. That should get him past the rudimentary checks once they realise that he's disappeared from his assigned bunk.
He waited, unmoving, until his eyes adjusted to the almost total darkness. Boxes and crates line the walls. He pulls one of the boxes in front of the door. It wouldn't hold it closed, but it would hold it just long enough to give him the couple of seconds warning that he'd need. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it on a crate at the back of the room. He stretched, trying to force himself to relax. It didn't help that he knew that the relaxation would come wiht a time limit. If he was lucky, he'd squeeze half an hour of freedom, but more likely it would be half that. Not enough time to savour his freedom, but just enough to remind him of his humanity.
He reached into his pocket, drawing out his supplies. It had taken him a long time to find a guard sympathetic enough to his cause to risk slipping him the contraband. Of course, given that everything not marked with an official CCCP mark was considered contraband, he guessed that the small tube of lube would be the least of his problems if they decided to look too closely at the contents of his footlocker.
With practiced ease, he unzipped his trousers and pushed them down to his hips. He pushed the waistband of his shorts down until it was hooked under his balls. The elastic chafed slightly and dug in. He savoured the discomfort for a moment. All too soon he would be back in deep freeze and robbed even of his dreams.
He snapped the cap on the tube and squeezed a medium sized blob onto his metal hand. He took a second to savour the change in temperature as he flexed his metallic fingers. Wrapping his hand around his still flaccid cock, he gasped. His hips bucked reflexively, trying to escape the cold. It took willpower to push through the discomfort and keep his hand on his cock. In slow, steady strokes, he started to massage the hardening flesh. Eyes closed, he let his mind wander.
Blond hair that curled around an ear. Blue eyes staring up at him. These were the images that came to mind first. He seemed to remember someone... From before. But the image was never clear. He could remember lips on his cock, licking, sucking and the occassional playful bite.
He let his metal thumb brush over the tip of his swollen cock, gasping at the feel. He tried to draw it out, moving slowly. Up and down. But he couldn't keep that pace. He needed this too damned much. He moved his hand quicker, letting his other hand move to cup his balls, massaging them gently. Metallic fingers traced over the bulging vein that ran from root to tip, exciting the nerves.
He opened his eyes and looked down at the metal hand wrapped around his cock. It was a marvel of modern machinery. Feedback circuits to emulate the sense of touch. Articulated joints to mimic natural movement. So many features. So many bugs. So close to real but so far away at the same time. The only good thing about it was that it felt as if someone else was touching him. Exactly what he needed right now.
His human hand squeezed harder, giving his pleasure just that edge of pain. His shoulders were hunching forward slightly, leaning into the contact. His knees trembled. He could feel the familiar sensation that marked the beginning of climax. His balls tightening. His breath coming hard and fast. His heart pounding as he chased the high. Another stroke, two and he was there.
Ropes of thick, white cum shot from his cock, landing on his chest and hand. He was glad he'd had the forethought to strip off his shirt. He leaned back against the crates and boxes, struggling to catch his breath. He forced himself to slow his breathing. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. He jerked to action, fixing his shorts and zipping up his trousers before pulling on his shirt. He could feel the nasty tickle of drying liquid on his chest. He'd have to take care of it later, provided of course that they gave him the luxury of a shower before sticking him back in the freezer.
A key turned in the lock. A hard push opened it, pushing the warning box out of the way. Guns swept the room, coming to stop on him.
"Ah, Comrade Soldier, we found you at last." His handler smirked from behind the armed men. "I do wish that you wouldn't play these little games of yours. It is most vexing when we have to track you down."
He said nothing as he pushed himself off the box and walked towards the men. They wouldn't kill him, wouldn't even take a shot. They never did. He was worth more than any hundred of them. Thawed out, given a briefing, a target and let loose on the world. And when he was done, he was dumped back in cold storage.
They'd stripped him of his name, his identity, leaving him with only a code name. They'd made it so that the only time he felt even close to human was in the few snatched moments that he managed to steal before they shoved him back in the cryotubes, those few moments where his world narrowed down to his hand, his cock and the few scattered memories that they hadn't managed to take from him. And if they had their way, he'd lose even those few minutes.
He pushed past the soldiers into the corridor and started towards his designated area. Maybe it was time to do something about getting the hell out of here one and for all.
Author: Bon
Prompt: 616 | Bucky Barnes | Slash? Het? Whatever masturbation comes under. | Jerking off with his roboarm. Any era since he got it, I guess.
Rating: 18
Word count: 1,120
Disclaimer: The characters and settings featured in this story are the property of Marvel Entertainment. This is a work of homage and no copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Masturbation
Author's notes: Set in Winter Soldier era in Soviet Russia. Hope you enjoy.
~#~#~
He pushed deeper into the alcove, letting the shadows cover him. Armed guards rushed past him, their heavy boots pounding against the linoleum. He held his breath, counting seconds. Five seconds. Six. Seven. Enough time for the last guard to turn the corner. He pushed away from the wall and continued down the corridor. His steps were light, barely making a sound as he moved.
The lock on the storage room's door barely posed a challenge. A good set of picks and a practiced hand clicked the tumblers into place and with only a moment's hesitation, he slipped into the room. He closed the door quickly but quietly, sighing in relief once it had clicked closed. He hunkered down in front of the door and again, using the picks, he locked the door. That should get him past the rudimentary checks once they realise that he's disappeared from his assigned bunk.
He waited, unmoving, until his eyes adjusted to the almost total darkness. Boxes and crates line the walls. He pulls one of the boxes in front of the door. It wouldn't hold it closed, but it would hold it just long enough to give him the couple of seconds warning that he'd need. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it on a crate at the back of the room. He stretched, trying to force himself to relax. It didn't help that he knew that the relaxation would come wiht a time limit. If he was lucky, he'd squeeze half an hour of freedom, but more likely it would be half that. Not enough time to savour his freedom, but just enough to remind him of his humanity.
He reached into his pocket, drawing out his supplies. It had taken him a long time to find a guard sympathetic enough to his cause to risk slipping him the contraband. Of course, given that everything not marked with an official CCCP mark was considered contraband, he guessed that the small tube of lube would be the least of his problems if they decided to look too closely at the contents of his footlocker.
With practiced ease, he unzipped his trousers and pushed them down to his hips. He pushed the waistband of his shorts down until it was hooked under his balls. The elastic chafed slightly and dug in. He savoured the discomfort for a moment. All too soon he would be back in deep freeze and robbed even of his dreams.
He snapped the cap on the tube and squeezed a medium sized blob onto his metal hand. He took a second to savour the change in temperature as he flexed his metallic fingers. Wrapping his hand around his still flaccid cock, he gasped. His hips bucked reflexively, trying to escape the cold. It took willpower to push through the discomfort and keep his hand on his cock. In slow, steady strokes, he started to massage the hardening flesh. Eyes closed, he let his mind wander.
Blond hair that curled around an ear. Blue eyes staring up at him. These were the images that came to mind first. He seemed to remember someone... From before. But the image was never clear. He could remember lips on his cock, licking, sucking and the occassional playful bite.
He let his metal thumb brush over the tip of his swollen cock, gasping at the feel. He tried to draw it out, moving slowly. Up and down. But he couldn't keep that pace. He needed this too damned much. He moved his hand quicker, letting his other hand move to cup his balls, massaging them gently. Metallic fingers traced over the bulging vein that ran from root to tip, exciting the nerves.
He opened his eyes and looked down at the metal hand wrapped around his cock. It was a marvel of modern machinery. Feedback circuits to emulate the sense of touch. Articulated joints to mimic natural movement. So many features. So many bugs. So close to real but so far away at the same time. The only good thing about it was that it felt as if someone else was touching him. Exactly what he needed right now.
His human hand squeezed harder, giving his pleasure just that edge of pain. His shoulders were hunching forward slightly, leaning into the contact. His knees trembled. He could feel the familiar sensation that marked the beginning of climax. His balls tightening. His breath coming hard and fast. His heart pounding as he chased the high. Another stroke, two and he was there.
Ropes of thick, white cum shot from his cock, landing on his chest and hand. He was glad he'd had the forethought to strip off his shirt. He leaned back against the crates and boxes, struggling to catch his breath. He forced himself to slow his breathing. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. He jerked to action, fixing his shorts and zipping up his trousers before pulling on his shirt. He could feel the nasty tickle of drying liquid on his chest. He'd have to take care of it later, provided of course that they gave him the luxury of a shower before sticking him back in the freezer.
A key turned in the lock. A hard push opened it, pushing the warning box out of the way. Guns swept the room, coming to stop on him.
"Ah, Comrade Soldier, we found you at last." His handler smirked from behind the armed men. "I do wish that you wouldn't play these little games of yours. It is most vexing when we have to track you down."
He said nothing as he pushed himself off the box and walked towards the men. They wouldn't kill him, wouldn't even take a shot. They never did. He was worth more than any hundred of them. Thawed out, given a briefing, a target and let loose on the world. And when he was done, he was dumped back in cold storage.
They'd stripped him of his name, his identity, leaving him with only a code name. They'd made it so that the only time he felt even close to human was in the few snatched moments that he managed to steal before they shoved him back in the cryotubes, those few moments where his world narrowed down to his hand, his cock and the few scattered memories that they hadn't managed to take from him. And if they had their way, he'd lose even those few minutes.
He pushed past the soldiers into the corridor and started towards his designated area. Maybe it was time to do something about getting the hell out of here one and for all.