Chapter Text
"Hand Barnes over now, and I'll go easy on Wilson," Ross' voice booms through a loudspeaker outside, "A couple of years max in a nice place with a great view. Good food. It's a solid deal, Stark."
"I don't know, Secretary. View's pretty great from the tower too."
Stark eyes Bucky then Sam. For the first time since Bucky met him, he looks worried. They've all moved from their cozy, lazing spots on the upper deck to the ground floor with only a big wooden door between them and Ross.
Ross has informed them that he has visual evidence of Sam and Bucky being inside and a warrant to search and detain. There's no hiding in the bedroom and skating by on luck this time, no naked women coming to save them, no elaborate stories to hide behind.
Bucky sticks close to Sam, feels Sam's fingers slide into his own, and grip tight.
"Tony," Steve says and picks up his shield, "Tell me you've got a plan."
"JARVIS," Stark says, "Activate Protocol 69." Romanoff bites back a smile, then Stark shrugs and adds, "For when we're well and truly fucked."
Steve lets out a quiet sigh, "Of course."
Then at Stark's command, the floor slides open, and from it, a glass cylinder emerges stacked with armor, weapons, and even a replica of Steve's shield. However, the matt silver jet pack with black detail and tiny red wings painted on it catches Bucky's eye.
Stark takes it off the hook, hands it over to Sam, "Made you this a while back, for stealth missions and whatnot. The wings were Rhodey's idea."
"Yeah? Who said I'd be doing stealth missions?" Sam says, but he's already slipping it on and strapping in, "Thanks."
Stark hits the floor with his heel, and in an instant, a red and golden metal suit envelops him. From the glass cylinder, Natasha straps on two wrist tasers and a belt with even more gadgets, and Hill arms herself with nunchucks that Bucky would pay to see her use at any other time.
"This is the government," Steve says and hands them all an earpiece, "Keep it non-lethal unless you want a treason case on your hands."
"Pretty sure we're already committing treason," says Colonel Rhodes, appearing from a side closet in full metal armor too. He fist-bumps Stark, "Someone's gotta get the big guy out of here before he levels Manhattan."
"Allow me," Thor says and guides Banner to the elevator, "Good luck, friends, I'll be back." He waves, and then he's off with Green Banner before everything becomes way messier than it needs to be.
Bucky's throat is kind of tight at the thought of their friends willing to fight for them, willing to risk it all to keep them safe. Sam's still worried, though. He rubs his hand over his face and head like he did the first night the Asset showed up at his door.
"Hey," Bucky says to him while they watch the others get ready, "You don't have to do this. You haven't done anything wrong. I'll go, and you tell them the last time you saw me was on the helicarriers."
Sam turns to him, frowns, and tips his head sideways, "Are you serious?" he blurts out, "No."
Bucky smiles, "I'm not kidding, Bird. Kiss me goodbye and get the hell out of this while you still can."
Sam puts his hand on Bucky's cheek, "I ain't going anywhere. Neither are you."
Bucky blinks, feels a storm of emotion rise in his throat. Fear too. He's suddenly so terrified of losing this and never feeling anything like it ever again. It scares him more than being taken and locked up by these men.
"I love you," he says without thinking but with no regret. He does. He loves Sam Wilson. Sam blinks at him, his lips part with a surprised smile, "I ain't letting them touch you."
"Uh," Steve says, apologetically beside them, pink in the cheeks as if he just walked in on something intimate. And maybe he has. "Jeez, I'm sorry, Buck, but you guys better get going."
Stark's metal suit is terrifying. Bucky hates the look of it. His voice sounds like talking into a tin can, "There's a jet on the roof of the South Building, elevator goes straight up," he says, "JARVIS has programmed the address of a safe house into the GPS. It's ready to go."
"We'll keep Ross occupied." Natasha grins at them from the doorway, tightening her ponytail, "It's been fun, boys."
"Stark!" Ross calls again, "Last chance!"
"Sir, they have a battering ram," says JARVIS two seconds too late.
The first blow strikes the wooden door, and the building shakes. Sam grabs Bucky's hand and starts running for the elevator but a foot away from it, the power cuts and drenches them all in darkness.
"That is African Blackwood, Secretary Ross!" Stark says and points Sam and Bucky toward the fire escape, "Do I forward the bill directly to the White House, or—"
"Go!" Steve shouts just as the second battering ram hits.
"Shit!" Sam tugs Bucky toward the stairs and wrangles the door open.
"Come on, honey," Bucky says, letting Sam go ahead of him, and then ascends to the roof. It's a hell of a way to the top, but they've got a bit of a head start.
The third hit falls, and a loud crash follows— the STRIKE team finally breaching. Bucky looks back to see a swarm of heavily armed agents in black flood the entrance and Ross pointing to the open stairwell.
"Bring me Barnes and Wilson!" Ross shouts to the agents before stopping in front of Stark with a sneeringly sharp grin. "Alive."
"We gotta move, Sam!" Bucky calls out to Sam in front of him. They're not exactly dressed for sprinting up endless stairs: Sam's in jeans and sneakers, and Bucky has on these Goddamn tight pants and boots that aren't properly laced up because that's apparently fashion.
The footsteps get closer, and he starts to worry that the agents will catch up to them and take Sam away. He knows that the Asset in him won't allow it and can already feel how shallowly beneath the surface he lurks. And, deep down, he feels the violence he is capable of simmer at the thought of them laying hands on Sam.
"Yeah, I'm moving. I'm moving," Sam huffs as they round the next flight of stairs, "We ain't all got those super soldier legs."
"Slow," Bucky teases with a laugh.
Eventually, the first couple of agents catch up to them once they reach the fifth floor. One of them grabs hold of Bucky's shirt to yank him back and get a grip, but he bends forward, lets the shirt peel off of him instead, then loops it around the agent's neck as leverage to smash his head into a railing.
Rogers said ‘non-lethal’. He didn't mention concussions.
When Bucky turns around, the unconscious agent's teammate is having a fist fight with Sam and losing miserably. Bucky wants to sit back for a second and watch the guy get his ass handed to him—Sam's fast and brutal and deadly efficient—but Sam dodges a hit thrown his way, comes back up, shoots out one silver wing in a chop-like motion and ends the tussle. The agent flies back and hits the wall, and stays there.
Sam is breathless and wide-eyed when he turns to Bucky, and Bucky feels like his heart's about to leap right out of his body. He would pull Sam closer right now and kiss him if it weren't for the rest of the agents approaching.
Sam reaches out for Bucky's hand and grins at him, cocks his head to the next flight of stairs.
"Wilson!" another agent shouts from below, "Don't make this hard!"
Bucky looks up to see Sam's mouth open with a laugh, and feels the thrill run through him. He likes the danger, likes the rush. Maybe just maybe that drives Bucky absolutely wild.
"You're in for a world of trouble, man!" the agent says. Just then, the ceiling above them cracks open, and four more STRIKE members sail down from wires.
"Oh baby," Sam calls back down as they come to a stop and gear up for the next fight, "I am the trouble."
"Jesus, sweetheart," Bucky says and laughs, kicks the agent approaching from below in the chest, and sends him back down the stairs. He topples a few more guys on his way. "That's kind of hot."
"Kind of?" Sam breathes, "Better up my game, huh?" He yanks another STRIKE goon off his wire and tosses him over the railing to the landing below. Bucky shrugs. Still non-lethal; the guy's squirming on the concrete.
"Sam, how's it going up there?" says Rogers through the comms. There's a hell of a commotion on his end of the line. Grunting and crashing and glass breaking.
"Almost there, Cap!"
An agent rushes at Sam, but Bucky steps into his way and lifts his left arm like a lever, knocking him out with his elbow alone. His colleague growls, comes running at Bucky instead-but Sam swings his wings outward again, twirls like a Goddamn ballerina, and swipes the goon off his feet. They briefly watch him roll down the stairs before two others come at them with batons.
"Aw hell," Bucky groans just as the baton makes contact with his ribs. He grunts and curls inward, exposed now, but Sam grabs the agent's wrist, twists it, and steals the baton from him. The agent retaliates and lurches forward and headbutts Sam right on the nose.
Bucky drags the guy to the floor and knocks him out against the wall, then comes back up to help Sam, but he's already swinging the baton at the other agent and knocking him out too.
"You okay?" Sam says to Bucky, puts his hand gently on Bucky's ribs, the touch is warm even through the material of Bucky's shirt.
"I'm good. You?"
Sam's nose is bleeding a thin red line onto his lips. Bucky wipes it away with his thumb.
Sam looks at the blood on Bucky's fingers, then leans forward and kisses him square on the mouth.
When he pulls back and opens his eyes, he nods, "I'm good, baby. Let's go."
More footsteps resound from below as they make their way to the next floor. It's harder for the rest to move as quickly now since they need to climb over multiple heaps of unconscious agents, so Bucky and Sam make good headway before they're interrupted again.
This time it's the biggest one they've seen yet—a massive, burly guy who apparently has no regard for Ross' order to bring them in alive.
He lifts a rifle to Bucky's head. But instead of shooting he says, "Longing. Rusted—"
"Cap!" Sam calls into Steve's comms. His voice is strained and grunting, "We've got Hydra in the building! They're taking Barnes!"
Steve's gaze snaps to Nat, and she hears it too because her eyes are already scanning a way to the stairwell. Steve throws the shield to clear a path and he follows her up the first flight of stairs. Then, he connects the comms to the rest of the team.
"STRIKE two is also Hydra. All bets are off. Get to Ross."
"You gotta be shitting me," says Rhodes as he makes his way out of the building with Tony, “These roaches really don’t die, huh?”
"I kind of called it, didn't I?" Says Tony. Steve rolls his eyes, "I totally called it."
Natasha swings around the railing and wraps her legs around a STRIKE agent's neck, choking him out until he sinks to the ground.
"So, this is why they were after Barnes?" she says as they sprint up four steps at a time, "Ross is Hydra?"
"Sam said they needed a target to pin the D.C mess on." He throws an approaching agent into the ceiling, and they watch him roll down the stairs like a sack of rocks, "Guess he needed a weapon too."
"Somehow," Natasha says, electrocuting another agent with her wrist bands, "I'm not even surprised. Are you?"
"This is possibly the least surprised I've been in ninety-five years, darlin'."
"Come on," she says once the agents are just sleeping heaps at their feet, "Let's get our guys."
"—Homecoming. One," the goon says and smirks, disgustingly satisfied.
Sam thrashes against the other agent that somehow manages to get his hands secured while he watches, shocked, as a string of words somehow renders Barnes pliant and stone cold. Sam's confusion buzzes around in his head. How the fuck did he do this so easily?
Barnes is standing dead still, head hanging low with his long hair covering his face.
"Stop!" Sam screams, but it's too late. Barnes is a puppet. "Hey! What are you doing, man!?"
"Freight car," the man finally says, and then Barnes lifts his head.
"I'm ready to comply," he says with no inflection. Dead and machine-like. Where once was vivid blue in his eyes, there is only blankness now, nothingness. He stares straight ahead, right through Sam like he doesn't see him at all. Like he doesn't know him.
"Bucky!" Sam calls out to him, "Bucky come on!"
The Winter Soldier blinks and Sam goes ice cold.
"Asset, proceed to the jet on the roof," the agent—Bucky's new handler—tells him, and Sam's heart clenches in his chest.
"Buck! No, come on, look at me!" Sam rips himself from the grip of the agent holding him, "Buck, hey, baby, hey look at me!" his voice cracks, but the Soldier lifts his head.
"Yeah, hey," Sam says, "It's me! It's us, Champ, come on."
The Winter Soldier's head twitches to the side, like the night he remembered who he was, but his eyes come back to meet Sam's.
"Asset," the goon commands, "Now! That's an order."
The Soldier doesn't move. Sam continues, "You're not the Asset. You know you're not. You're James Buchanan Barnes. You're—"
"Enough!" his handler shouts, pulls his gun, and aims it at Sam.
Sam flinches and closes his eyes, but the shot doesn't come. He opens them again and decides fuck it.
He throws his head back, hits the guy holding him right in the face, then whacks his head into the wall when he's down.
At the same time—the minute Sam moves—the Soldier spins around and grabs his handler's gun, twists the metal into something unusable, drops it, and wraps his metal hand around the handler's throat instead. He squeezes and squeezes, and Sam has to look away when the man's face turns purple and his eyes roll back.
Sam's hands are still tied behind his back, so there's not much he can do but wait to see if Barnes will kill him too or if the sound of his voice was enough to snap him out of this spell.
Finally, the handler drops to the floor, dead, but Barnes just stands there, staring at the wall. His shoulders heave with each breath he takes, his fingers flex at his sides.
"Buck?" Sam tries, trembling.
Then the Winter Soldier turns around, raw fury and violence contorting his beautiful face, and looks at Sam.
He comes stalking over, and just for a second, Sam fears that the man he loves is going to murder him today. But then the Soldier stops in front of him, looks at him with those clear blue eyes that had become void so quickly, and tilts his head.
He reaches behind Sam, crushes the metal block cuff between his fingers and frees Sam's hands then brings them forward, tentative and gentle, and picks each remaining piece from Sam's wrists.
"Hey," Sam says, rubbing his wrists, "What was that? What did he do to you?"
But he realizes too late that it is still not Barnes he is talking to.
The Soldier swallows, "Primary Handler K.I.A. Mission parameters, unclear. The Asset requires a new directive."
Sam stares at him. He would break down and fucking sob, but they're kind of running for their lives. All the times they've joked about Mr. Calculations, and now...
"Alright," Sam says, "Okay. First of all." He tucks Barnes' wild hair behind his ear, and the Soldier keens at the touch, "I love you too." He twitches, shuts his eyes as if the words hurt, "Secondly, we gotta get our asses to the fuckin' roof, stat."
The Soldier gives a curt nod and then grabs hold of Sam's arm. He leads the way up the last few flights of stairs and eliminates the agents that still manage to reach them. It's effortless and remorseless, almost mechanical. He puts his body in front of Sam's, takes hits meant for Sam, diverts flying bullets with his metal arm that would have otherwise been fatal. He's vicious now, more than he was when they were fighting before, he's deadly. He's the Winter Soldier that Sam once fought and the man he now loves at once.
'I ain't letting them touch you.'
"Sam?!" Steve's voice through the comms again. He's huffing, and the sound is echoed. He must be on his way up the stairs too.
"I got Barnes, Cap. We're heading for the jet now. Hydra's got some trigger system in his brain. I don't know what the hell that was, but he's with me. Thinks I'm his handler."
Steve growls audibly.
Barnes busts open the rooftop door, and finally, Goddamn finally, they reach their destination. The jet's already whirring and set to go.
Barnes hoists Sam up and plants him in the passenger's seat like a toddler onto a countertop when they reach it. He shuts the door, rounds the front of the jet, and gets in beside Sam just as a group of agents spills through the open roof door, with Steve and Natasha in tow.
Another fight breaks out while Barnes tries to get them in the air, but Sam should have known it came too easy. There's a loud snap of metal, and then four steel rods clamp down on the jet's wings to keep it from taking off any further.
Barnes pulls up on the yoke, and the jet gives a terrible, mechanical whirr. Steve looks up and sees, throws his shield, and cuts one wire loose. The jet jerks to the side, and Steve catches the shield again, ready to throw it at another rod, but an agent hits him in the ribs with a shock baton.
Steve gets back up, knocks the guy out, and throws the shield, but the engine finally seizes, and with the momentum of the second rod snapping, the jet crashes sideways onto the rooftop.
The last thing Sam sees before they hit the ground is Barnes' head smashing into the window.
"Sam," a voice says to him, softly rugged, "Sam, wake up. You gotta get up."
Sam's eyes creak open and fall on Barnes' face. He's beautiful, but he's worried. More importantly, he is himself again. Gently he cradles Sam's head in his hand.
"Shit," Sam grumbles, pushes up on his elbow, Barnes helps him to his feet, "You okay?"
"Are you?! Jesus Christ," Barnes says a little hysterically, "Did I hurt you? When I was—" he motions vaguely to his head.
"No. Shit, no, you didn't. Anything but." Sam's head is pounding. Around them, Steve, Rhodes, Nat, Tony, and Hill have formed a wall so that they can get to their feet safely. Beyond the wall of Avengers stands Secretary Ross with the entire STRIKE team behind him, all the unconscious agents now awake with a vengeance.
Barnes helps Sam up and keeps an arm around him while Steve talks to the Secretary.
"I'm not Hydra, Rogers. You're making a big mistake," Ross says, his features sharp in the moonlight, like a sneering gargoyle, "Now, that agent was out of line, but Barnes still has to come with me. Wilson too."
At that, Barnes shifts to hide Sam behind his body.
Steve looks at Ross dead on, unwavering, his shoulders square and wide and his chin up. Stubbornly defiant. "Then you’ll have to go through me, Secretary."
In a smooth, unified wave-like motion, the STRIKE team lifts their rifles.
"As you wish, Rogers," the Secretary says, low and dangerous, "This could have been simple."
"Bird," Barnes whispers hoarsely, "If things don't work out, if they shoot us down today, you gotta know this is the most fun I've had in ninety years, sweetheart."
Sam snorts quietly, "Nah. We ain't dying today."
Steve turns to them, eyes wildly electric, raging, "Get out of here." and nods to the dark, star-filled night sky behind them.
Sam nods, takes a deep breath, and draws Barnes into his arms, "It's been one hell of a ride, Cap," he says to Steve.
"Gonna miss you, buddy," Barnes tells Steve too.
And then Sam spreads his matt silver wings, says, "How 'bout that ride I promised you, huh?" And then he grabs hold of Barnes tightly, and shoots into the sky.
Below them, Steve grins, but Ross is fuming. "ALPHA One, targets are airborne! Heading west! Shoot them down."
Sam hears the ALPHA team's helicopter round the Stark Tower to give chase and he activates the boosters. They shoot forward and he laughs at how tightly Barnes clings to him now. He pushes even harder when he looks back and sees the sniper get into position in the helicopter and aim right at them.
A missile swooshes past, but Sam tips left and it blows up a billboard. The next one follows them.
"Fuck!" Sam shouts. Thinks they're for real getting shot down, and he'll suffer the same fate as Riley. Thinks, too, it's kind of fucking poetic. He wonders with a weird comfort if Riley will be there to pick him up and walk him into the light, if Barnes will mourn Sam like Sam mourned Riley—forever.
But then, from out of nowhere, a bright, colorful stream of light appears alongside them. A blazing rainbow stretching from here to where they can't see.
"Sam, the great Falcon! Sergeant Barnes! Care for a lift?" Thor says, cape billowing and flying too.
Barnes laughs, clinging on around Sam's neck, "Depends. Where the fuck's that thing going, pal?"
Thor grins bright and wide, "Only the most magnificent kingdom in all nine realms!"
In his comms, Sam hears Ross scream, "No! Goddamnit!" along with cheering and joyful whistles of the Avengers below.
Sam considers their options then takes Thor's extended hand, "Sounds like a plan, Odinson."
The God of thunder takes Sam's arm, and before he knows it, the rainbow light swallows them up, and they vanish off the face of the earth.
Coda
The palace of Asgard is something else.
Perfect white limestone walls and cascading waterfalls of greenery hanging from the ceilings, sheer drapes floating in the light breeze, endless buffets of food, and every passerby is friendly and welcoming.
It's stunning here. Bucky hasn't seen anything like it in all his life, probably because they're in Goddamn space and on a completely different planet.
They arrived at the palace a few hours ago via the colorful stream of light- it's apparently called the Bifrost Bridge. Upon arrival, Asgard's healers had attended to their injuries—Sam's broken nose and fractured knuckles, Bucky's busted eyebrow and lip. Whatever cuts and bruises they sustained had vanished before their eyes. This place is magical, after all.
Aside from that, they were too exhausted from the fight with Ross' team to do anything but sleep. Thor set them up in one of the guest wings; it's nearly as massive as the palace itself. They had crawled onto the humongous bed. Sam had curled up in Bucky's arms, laid his head down on his chest, and had drifted off quickly and easily- more so than Bucky had ever seen him do.
They'd woken just after midnight to a bright starry sky and people still milling about the city below. There was a commotion in the dining area, so they made their way down, hungry now after the tiredness had worn off. And there, the prince of Asgard had been laughing boisterously, a massive drumstick in one hand a golden cup in the other.
He introduced Sam and Bucky to his band of warriors and set them down beside him at the table. And then they ate and ate some more and laughed, and Bucky finally felt every tendril of worry and stress from the last few weeks slip away and dissipate.
Sam's cheeks had been glowing with a golden sheen in the palace lights, his eyes narrowed with joy, and his hand slipped securely into Bucky's under the table. Bucky couldn't tear his wanting gaze from Sam, kept thinking how he was the most beautiful man he'd ever laid eyes on. Kept thinking how lucky he was that Sam looked at him the way he did, how wildly fortunate that what he felt was reciprocated.
He couldn't wait to get Sam alone again, like yesterday morning in the tower, couldn't wait to get his mouth on him, kiss him, feel his body move, feel Sam shiver under his fingertips. He wanted to do all the things he'd forgotten were possible, all the things that felt so Goddamn good. And if he were lucky, maybe Sam would let him do a whole lot more.
But they had far too much to eat, even more to drink, and Bucky was excited to learn that Asgardian ale does actually get him drunk. For the first time in over 70 years, he was buzzed. It felt freeing, like sweet, sweet release. So very human.
Thor had taken them on a walk through the lustrous gardens in the bright moonlight. Sam started swaying— giggling —and holding onto Bucky just a little tighter to stay upright. Finally, they came to a stop near a lookout point, and Thor had shown Bucky the Kingdom lights below while Sam rested on a bench behind them.
By the time they were done talking, Sam had fallen asleep peacefully and sweetly on the bench. Bucky scooped him up in his arms and carried him back to their wing. There, he tucked him into bed and got in beside him, and slept.
So they never got to do all the sexy stuff Bucky had been fantasizing about earlier. But that's how he knew that he had truly gone and fallen in love because as he lay there and watched Sam's slack sleeping face, his muscled chest now soft with dozy breaths, it was even better than any touch could have felt.
But tonight, tonight, nothing's stopping them, and they both know it.
After dinner, Bucky shuts the big wooden door to their room and pulls Sam to his body. The movement is quick, makes Sam crash into him, his eyes glittering and wide when he looks up.
"I've been waiting," Bucky tells him, presses his hand against Sam's throat, and cants his chin up, "to get you alone." And then he leans down a fraction and kisses Sam. It's slow and sweet, their tongues warm and wet and sliding together. Then Sam's mouth opens to let him in, and his brain short circuits.
Sam makes a slight sound, pulls only far enough away, so his lips brush Bucky's when he speaks. "Baby, me too. Let's get to it, huh?" He takes Bucky's hands, places them on his lower back, and drags them downward until Bucky's palms are full of him.
This time Bucky makes a noise, a low, hungry grunt, and squeezes. It makes him dizzy, makes him feel stupid, reckless.
"Alright," he says and starts gathering the hem of the tunic Sam had worn that morning and sliding his hands along his warm skin instead. Then, swiftly he pulls it over Sam's head, looks down at his naked body, glistening and strong, and bites his lip. "Shit, sweetheart,' he says before he sweeps Sam up.
Sam kisses him again, faster and hungrier now, and easily wraps his legs around Bucky's middle.
In the bedroom, on the spacious bed, he lays Sam down, strips his clothes off, and revels in the surprise and excitement on Sam's face. Feels a blush bloom as Sam's eyes rake downward and linger between his legs.
He takes himself in hand, strokes it slowly to tease, to give Sam a little show. Feels a little self-conscious, but Sam drinks him in, lets his legs fall open for him, and holds his hand out for Bucky to take. Brain on fire, he goes eagerly.
"Hey, Champ," Sam says as their bodies slip together, their cocks side by side between their bellies.
Bucky leans up on an elbow, brushes his palm over Sam's forehead, "Hey, Bird."
And then they kiss again, begin rocking their bodies together and creating wild building friction between them. They become breathless and desperate for release, but Bucky stops abruptly.
"What?" Sam gasps, grabbing Bucky's thigh, "What's wrong?"
Bucky shakes his head because what could ever, ever be wrong when they're here like this, doing what they're doing?
"No, honey, no," he says, but suddenly the words are lost, and his face is burning, and Sam's looking at him with big round eyes, and his heart is spinning out of his body's orbit.
"Nah, come on," Sam says, "It's me. We're past all this. What do you want, Champ?"
"More than this." Bucky swallows, dry. He lets his hand travel down to Sam's ass and gives it a greedy squeeze, "I want—"
"Oh God. For real?" Sam breathes, nudges his cock against Bucky's again, and Bucky nods, "Okay, fuck, okay. I got this. Hold on."
He scrambles from under Bucky over to the bedside stand where a collection of bottles stands. He picks one from the middle and crawls over to Bucky again. Bucky has shifted up, so he's sitting against the stone headboard with a pillow propped up behind him.
Sam settles over Bucky's lap, his thick legs spread and kisses him. And fuck, Bucky's hard, deliriously hard, and it presses up against Sam's thigh. It doesn't go unnoticed, and while Sam uncaps the bottle, he takes Bucky in hand and strokes it.
Bucky loses all sense of clarity. He dissolves into Sam's touch.
"Oh God," he says, hoarse like someone who hasn't spoken in a week. And then to his undoing, the touch becomes slick, "Fuck!" he arches into it, toward Sam, until Sam's soft lips press against his.
When he opens his eyes, he's hit with another wave of shock and want. And God, he knows how this goes, knows the ins and outs and what goes where, but Sam's other hand is stretched behind him, his fingers submerged inside himself, and at the sight, Bucky loses his fucking mind even more.
Gasping—breathless just from watching, just from Sam's even, tight strokes—he reaches underneath Sam and touches the tips of his fingers gently to where Sam's own are sliding in and out of himself.
"Sam, sweetheart, I can't—"
And then he comes.
He simply drifts for a few seconds in absolute bright bliss, and Sam kisses him through it. His mouth is sweet and gentle, teasing, smiling as Bucky breathes and his thighs twitch.
"Holy shit," he says dumbly, a smile now on his lips.
"Yeah, holy shit." Sam sounds different, amused, so Bucky opens his eyes. Sam's hand is still around him, and he's still stiff, still thick and hard in Sam's palm, "Serum?" Sam says.
Vaguely Bucky remembers that yes, in fact, he can keep it up. He remembers a girl back in Brooklyn and a young soldier in France marveling at it too. Remembers tireless nights and sweating until dawn, drunk on it.
He smirks, "Maybe it's just me, dollface."
Sam bites down on his bottom lip and finally withdraws his fingers, "You ready?" he says, sits up, and brings Bucky's cock beneath him. Bucky shivers, thinks he hasn't been this ready all his life.
He nods, looks up at Sam as he sinks down. He instantly grabs Sam's middle, and an embarrassing groan escapes him. He shuts his eyes and is swallowed by the tight heat of Sam's body, the perfect fit, the warm slide. Oh, Jesus. He wasn't ready.
"You good?" Sam laughs, slides lower.
Bucky's mouth hangs open; he can't say a damn thing even though he tries. Instead, he just nods weakly, then feels Sam's fingers on his lips, touching tenderly, thoughtfully.
"Yeah, you're fine, huh?" he says. His voice is quiet and endearing as he bottoms out.
Bucky's fully submerged in him, in this ridiculous warmth of his body, with Sam squeezing around him like a fist. He closes his eyes and drifts as if into a deep sleep, feeling the last bits of coherency leave him.
Sam's finger taps the bottom of his chin, "Look at me."
"Oh fuck," he says and opens his eyes to find Sam smirking, happily and satisfied to himself, his eyes sparkling at Bucky's unraveling. And yeah, it's understandable that a man like this would know the absolutely devastating effect he has on others. "You know what you're doing to me, Bird," he says
A chuckle escapes Sam, "Gonna move now."
"Please, honey. Please," he says, sliding his hands along Sam's defined sides, up his pecs, and then back down to his ass to feel him move. His breath catches at the first rise of Sam's hips, again when he lowers himself, "I, uh—I can't, oh God… Oh God."
"Shh," Sam says, hushing him with a finger against his lips, "Shh, let me get you."
He does it again, faster each time, and then after a few testing strokes, he lets his head fall back, and Bucky steadies him with a hand on his lower back. His thighs lift and fall, lift and fall, the muscles straining and bulging with every move, his stomach concaving, then filling out again after every panting breath.
Bucky leans up, slips his tongue over Sam's nipple, then kisses just below the curve of his pec. Sam responds with a delicious gasp, wanting more. He cups his pec and, with his other hand, brings Bucky's head closer.
A thrill shoots up Bucky's spine. He licks, then sucks the nipple into his mouth, toys with it as long as Sam keeps his head there, gives him exactly what he wants until a gruff moan tumbles from Sam's lips.
With this, Sam's movements have sped up and Bucky's probably not going to make it.
Sam leans back, grabs Bucky's face, and kisses him, this time hard and feverish. And the moment he's too distracted with the kiss, Bucky grabs his hips and stills him. He lifts himself slightly and then slams into Sam, hard and fast and unending.
It surprises Sam, throws him off his game, and Bucky can't help but smile. He grabs onto Bucky's shoulders, and his face goes slack, like when he's sleeping, and quietly he says, "Oh."
"Sam," Bucky says. He smiles when Sam's eyes flutter open, "I know I said it before, at the tower, but I—"
Sam nods, "Me too, baby. Me too," he says, and Bucky groans and digs his fingers into the abundant meat of Sam's ass.
Then, just like that, effortlessly, he kisses Bucky and takes control again. It's his movements guiding them now, driving down quick and hard onto Bucky's lap.
Bucky looks up at him, panting and breathless, mouth open. He goes warm all over, gives in to bliss.
"What?" Sam says, smug and grinning. His hips rolling and undulating like waves in the ocean, "You gonna come again, hm? Give it to me a second time?"
This time Bucky's got something to grin back about.
"Just did, sweetheart."
Sam stutters, shocked for a second before his hand flies to wrap around himself, and he starts jerking it fervently.
"Fuck," he breathes, "That's ridiculous. I can feel it."
Bucky can't help but moan. God, he loves this guy. He is lost to it, body, mind, and soul. He has found his home here, he thinks. There's a tightness in his chest, but it all feels too good to cry. Instead, he revels in it, feels Sam all around him, his heart fuller than it has ever been. Where there had only been damage and hurt for so many years, there is only Sam now. Only love.
Sam, working himself over with one hand, touches his thumb to Bucky's lip with the other and looks him in the eye, "You're it for me, baby," he says, emotional now, undone just like Bucky has been. "You're it."
"And you're everything, S.Wilson," he says back, watching a laugh break out on Sam's face, "God's honest truth."
And then, Sam comes too. He clenches tight and spills warm onto Bucky's chest. His mouth's open, his eyes trained only on Bucky's with a slight frown between them, his body shaking as he works himself through it, then, at last, going boneless.
Bucky pushes off the bed and slips out of Sam. He lowers Sam's limp body onto the mattress, crawls up beside him, and wraps himself around Sam. He kisses Sam's jaw, his temple, and holds him near.
"Buck," Sam whispers sleepily but doesn't say more. His hand fumbles around until Bucky takes hold of it.
"I'm here," Bucky whispers back. And he'll never be anywhere else for as long as Sam will have him.
New mission objectives:
- Live a long and love-filled life with S.Wilson.
- Protect him above all else.
Status: Actively falling. Expected recovery is low and undesired. The Asset requires no assistance and is deeply content with the current protocols.
Mission Importance: Invaluable. S.Wilson saved the Asset from certain demise, brought him in from the cold, and inexplicably loves him back.
S.Wilson gave the Asset wings too.
And he is soaring.