Fic: Memories, MCU, Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes
Title: Memories
Author: Claire
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing(s): Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes
Rating: R
Word Count: 761
Summary: The first time Bucky wraps his hand around himself, in the time he thinks of as After, he doesn't even remember what he likes, how he likes to be touched.
Memories
The first time Bucky wraps his hand around himself, in the time he thinks of as After, he doesn't even remember what he likes, how he likes to be touched. He holds his cock for long moments, not moving. Closing his eyes, he leans back against the wall, his legs stretched out on the bed. There are images flashing in his mind, but they're confusing, like he's seeing the same person in his memories, but he looks different each time.
There's a flash of the two of them on a bed, threadbare and worn blanket under them. The other one is smaller than he is, like it's the man on the bridge, on the helicarrier, but isn't.
Steve, his mind supplies, and the name feels right. He says it out loud, testing it on his tongue. And it sits on his lips, thick and solid.
The memory, because he thinks it's a memory, must be a memory, has them together. They're lying side by side, each of them holding their cocks in their hands.
That's it, Stevie, show me how you like it.
Steve's breath is pitchy, ragged, and when he comes, spilling over his own stomach, it's accompanied by a wracking cough.
There are other flashes, as well, ones where Steve is still there, but different. He's taller, stronger, and Bucky only has the words written on the wall of a museum to tell him they're the same person.
There are memories of a war, fought too hard and too long ago. Where he and Steve huddled together, this time because they wanted to, not just because there was only one bed. Steve's hand is sure as it wraps around him, a low voice in his ear telling Bucky to be quiet, to not wake the other Commandos.
He jerks Bucky steadily, like he knows exactly what Bucky wants, what he needs. There's a thick hardness pressing into Bucky's side, and Bucky thinks he remembers what it feels like to have it inside him, but he's not sure if it's a memory or just the desire of one.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Bucky looks down at his cock, at the hand he has wrapped around himself. He starts to move his hand slowly, but it feels stilted, wrong. Letting go of his dick, he lifts his hand to his mouth, quickly licking his palm before taking himself back into his fist. The spit makes the glide slightly easier, and it feels better than it did.
It takes a couple of minutes of Bucky trying different rhythms before he finds something that seems to work. He keeps his grip tight, going slower than he'd first thought he'd like.
Closing his eyes again, he lets himself sink back into the flashes of memory that come with the darkness. Steve is there in all of them, even if he changes in stature. There are thoughts of the first time he takes Steve into his mouth, an oppressive heat washing over both of them as they lie in bed, languid and lazy and every touch overlaid with the fear that people will find out about them, about what they are to each other.
Thoughts of the first time Steve fucked him against a wall, strong enough to hold Bucky up as he pushes into him. There are kisses against skin and the knowledge that Steve came for him. That he broke orders and came for Bucky simply because the alternative was unthinkable.
Bucky chases the memory, following it to its end, to the way Steve buried his face in Bucky's neck as he came, filling him with a wet heat. The way he held himself inside Bucky while he wrapped his fingers around Bucky's still hard cock and jerked him until he was spilling hot and fast between their bodies.
The memory of Steve gently lowering Bucky back to the ground, his cock slipping out of Bucky's body. Of them standing next to each other as they re-adjust clothing, the smell of sex surrounding them, clinging to them.
The way Steve reached out and cupped Bucky's cheek, his voice low as he speaks, as he tells Bucky that the most terrifying thing Steve ever felt was that moment when Steve thought he'd lost him.
Never gonna lose me, punk. 'Til the end of the line, remember.
Bucky groans and comes, spilling himself wetly into his hand. He wipes himself off on his t-shirt, staining it with streaks of white.
And then he closes his eyes once more, and tries to remember again.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing(s): Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes
Rating: R
Word Count: 761
Summary: The first time Bucky wraps his hand around himself, in the time he thinks of as After, he doesn't even remember what he likes, how he likes to be touched.
Memories
The first time Bucky wraps his hand around himself, in the time he thinks of as After, he doesn't even remember what he likes, how he likes to be touched. He holds his cock for long moments, not moving. Closing his eyes, he leans back against the wall, his legs stretched out on the bed. There are images flashing in his mind, but they're confusing, like he's seeing the same person in his memories, but he looks different each time.
There's a flash of the two of them on a bed, threadbare and worn blanket under them. The other one is smaller than he is, like it's the man on the bridge, on the helicarrier, but isn't.
Steve, his mind supplies, and the name feels right. He says it out loud, testing it on his tongue. And it sits on his lips, thick and solid.
The memory, because he thinks it's a memory, must be a memory, has them together. They're lying side by side, each of them holding their cocks in their hands.
That's it, Stevie, show me how you like it.
Steve's breath is pitchy, ragged, and when he comes, spilling over his own stomach, it's accompanied by a wracking cough.
There are other flashes, as well, ones where Steve is still there, but different. He's taller, stronger, and Bucky only has the words written on the wall of a museum to tell him they're the same person.
There are memories of a war, fought too hard and too long ago. Where he and Steve huddled together, this time because they wanted to, not just because there was only one bed. Steve's hand is sure as it wraps around him, a low voice in his ear telling Bucky to be quiet, to not wake the other Commandos.
He jerks Bucky steadily, like he knows exactly what Bucky wants, what he needs. There's a thick hardness pressing into Bucky's side, and Bucky thinks he remembers what it feels like to have it inside him, but he's not sure if it's a memory or just the desire of one.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Bucky looks down at his cock, at the hand he has wrapped around himself. He starts to move his hand slowly, but it feels stilted, wrong. Letting go of his dick, he lifts his hand to his mouth, quickly licking his palm before taking himself back into his fist. The spit makes the glide slightly easier, and it feels better than it did.
It takes a couple of minutes of Bucky trying different rhythms before he finds something that seems to work. He keeps his grip tight, going slower than he'd first thought he'd like.
Closing his eyes again, he lets himself sink back into the flashes of memory that come with the darkness. Steve is there in all of them, even if he changes in stature. There are thoughts of the first time he takes Steve into his mouth, an oppressive heat washing over both of them as they lie in bed, languid and lazy and every touch overlaid with the fear that people will find out about them, about what they are to each other.
Thoughts of the first time Steve fucked him against a wall, strong enough to hold Bucky up as he pushes into him. There are kisses against skin and the knowledge that Steve came for him. That he broke orders and came for Bucky simply because the alternative was unthinkable.
Bucky chases the memory, following it to its end, to the way Steve buried his face in Bucky's neck as he came, filling him with a wet heat. The way he held himself inside Bucky while he wrapped his fingers around Bucky's still hard cock and jerked him until he was spilling hot and fast between their bodies.
The memory of Steve gently lowering Bucky back to the ground, his cock slipping out of Bucky's body. Of them standing next to each other as they re-adjust clothing, the smell of sex surrounding them, clinging to them.
The way Steve reached out and cupped Bucky's cheek, his voice low as he speaks, as he tells Bucky that the most terrifying thing Steve ever felt was that moment when Steve thought he'd lost him.
Never gonna lose me, punk. 'Til the end of the line, remember.
Bucky groans and comes, spilling himself wetly into his hand. He wipes himself off on his t-shirt, staining it with streaks of white.
And then he closes his eyes once more, and tries to remember again.