Steve still remembers it. Remembers waking up to an empty bed and searching high and low for Bucky. He remembers the fear and the anxiety that slowly morphed into a bone-deep sorrow when reality hit him. It was like going back to the bridge all over again. Steve knew that Bucky wouldn't have run from him so the only other option was that he was dragged home. He didn't know how or why but it was the only thing that made sense. He'd lost Bucky for good, now, and would never get him back.
His bed was too big and his room had too many reminders. Steve wasn't even sure all he did in that year because so much of it was remembering what it was to mourn. To be alone and to not have something propelling him forward. No mission. No purpose. Nothing.
And then he'd been brought here.
Steve's next kiss is beyond desperate. He is devouring Bucky breath by breath as he kisses him hard and mercilessly. He brushes Bucky's hand away because touching him is more important than being touched. He coaxes Bucky's feet back onto the ground and breaks the kiss to look him right in the eyes. "I'm tired of having regrets with you," he says honestly. A whole year wishing he'd done more. Said more. Explored more. Never again. "So you stop thinking, baby. It's my turn."
He inhales deeply and grabs Bucky's zipper. It goes down with Steve as he drops down to his knees. When it hits the bottom, Steve looks up and grins just like a sixteen year old punk in Brooklyn might.
"Still get to look up at you."
He kisses along Bucky's hipbone and around the top of his underwear before drifting lower. Opening his mouth and experimentally dragging his tongue against the clothed hardness there. His heart is about to burst out of his chest but Steve presses on. Through eyelashes, he looks up at Bucky to see how this is going.
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Steve still remembers it. Remembers waking up to an empty bed and searching high and low for Bucky. He remembers the fear and the anxiety that slowly morphed into a bone-deep sorrow when reality hit him. It was like going back to the bridge all over again. Steve knew that Bucky wouldn't have run from him so the only other option was that he was dragged home. He didn't know how or why but it was the only thing that made sense. He'd lost Bucky for good, now, and would never get him back.
His bed was too big and his room had too many reminders. Steve wasn't even sure all he did in that year because so much of it was remembering what it was to mourn. To be alone and to not have something propelling him forward. No mission. No purpose. Nothing.
And then he'd been brought here.
Steve's next kiss is beyond desperate. He is devouring Bucky breath by breath as he kisses him hard and mercilessly. He brushes Bucky's hand away because touching him is more important than being touched. He coaxes Bucky's feet back onto the ground and breaks the kiss to look him right in the eyes. "I'm tired of having regrets with you," he says honestly. A whole year wishing he'd done more. Said more. Explored more. Never again. "So you stop thinking, baby. It's my turn."
He inhales deeply and grabs Bucky's zipper. It goes down with Steve as he drops down to his knees. When it hits the bottom, Steve looks up and grins just like a sixteen year old punk in Brooklyn might.
"Still get to look up at you."
He kisses along Bucky's hipbone and around the top of his underwear before drifting lower. Opening his mouth and experimentally dragging his tongue against the clothed hardness there. His heart is about to burst out of his chest but Steve presses on. Through eyelashes, he looks up at Bucky to see how this is going.
" 's okay?"