The Chronicles Of The Winter || Part XI

The chronicles of the winter || Part XI

Part II  || Part III || Part IV || Part V || Part VI || Part VII|| Parta VIII || Part IX || Part X continuation of imagine 

Word Count: 6770

Warnings: strong language, blood and injuries

Author: Beast

"You're safe, you're safe…"

The words reached him gradually, spoken softly and warmly as his tentative grip on reality tightened. He felt awful, head swimming and senses dulled. He wanted nothing more than to give in to the lull of sleep, to let go of consciousness and fall back into the waiting darkness, but he knew that would leave him vulnerable. The awareness of his own body was painfully slow to return. He was lying on something soft, his shoulder ached with a pain like broken glass in his head, his mouth was far too dry and something was touching him.

For some odd reason, he wasn't as panicked as he thought he'd be. Concerned was a more accurate word; concerned about what was near him and who was speaking, but the voice was comforting and gentle, and his guard wasn't so quick to build up. It was familiar in some odd way that he couldn't quite put his finger on; it was nothing like the barking orders and fearful murmurs of the white-coated men who pulled him from the icy depths of cryostasis. He couldn't have been in cryo for that matter, he felt too warm for that, and waking from that death-sleep never happened on something soft; he always awoke strapped down on a metal table, alone.

Movement in front of him; someone was standing, walking away. He heard wooden floorboards creak softly underfoot. Not in the facility. That was assuring, but also alarming. Where the hell was he, if he wasn't back there? Memories came back in a fuzzy tangle of pain and confusion, not at all clear and providing no answers. All he could definitively pick out was running, running, running, and suffocating pain. It was too much of a jumbled mess to make sense of.

Testing his body was difficult. The pain was sharp enough to register through the programming, indicating that something was damaged severely. His thoughts were too sluggish for him to adequately catalog his own wounds in his mental checklist to relay to his handlers. Wait—the handlers are dead. That realization forced his eyes open, mind in desperate need of affirmation for that line of thought. The light, however dim it might have been, was oppressive and overpowering. He blinked several times before he could make out any semblance of detail. The walls were painted a warm, light color, with pictures and furniture scattered around the room. It was nothing like the sterile space he typically woke in. Everything about it was different, but not in an uncomfortable sort of way. He could see a pile of bloody clothes—mine?—off near the door, and was suddenly quite aware of how defenseless he felt.

"… Bucky?" the voice was so sudden it caused him to twitch, body suddenly tense and ready to spring when he caught sight of someone peeking in from a doorway across the room. His vision was still blurry but he thought he recognized him. When the person stepped closer he was sitting up in an instant—and instantly regretted it. The sharp movement caused a burst of warmth on his shoulder, choking down a yelp at the intense pain. He chanced looking away from the man, metal hand cautiously touching the back of his shoulder. The limb lacked tactile sensation, but he did determine there was something spongy and yielding there, and when he removed the hand, the fingers were covered in fresh blood. My shirt was removed and wounds tended to. Did the man do this?

The couch, he'd realized he was lying on one a few seconds prior, dipped slightly as the man sat down next to him, keeping enough space between them so he wasn't crowded. The fact that he had approached without him noticing was enough to alarm the asset into immediate guard. He pressed himself against the arm of the couch, back against it and wound as far away from the other as he could get it. He studied him intently, looking for any weapon or any item that was a danger. He was ready to defend himself at the slightest provocation.

"I brought you some juice, if you want something to drink." The man with the bright eyes spoke softly, offering him a clear plastic cup filled about halfway with the liquid, smiling at him with familiarity. It was brightly colored and somewhat unusual looking, but it smelled rather pleasant and his dry throat was suddenly at the forefront of his awareness. The confusion surrounding how he got here was still taking precedence in his mind, but the man, he remembered something about him. His voice was the one that had said he was safe. His hands were faintly stained with blood and his shirt was marred with it as well. He must be the one who treated me. He wasn't entirely sure why that thought was comforting, but it was.

Moments passed with no movement between the two, the assassin distrustful and rightfully wary. Kindness and compassion were both incredibly foreign concepts, locked out of him by layers and layers of ridged programming and conditioning. There had to be some reason this man was doing this. Was he being prepped for something?

He swallowed thickly, the dryness of his throat too much to ignore, and cautiously extended his metal hand out to take the offered cup. Eye contact was never broken, not giving the other the chance to do anything that could threaten him. The cup was fragile, thin plastic, and it took a little testing to make sure he wouldn't break it before he took it from him.

"Its orange juice," the man started, "I have milk or water if you'd rather have that?" was he asking for his preference? That was… he didn't really remember any time when anyone had asked what he'd wanted. He didn't respond and regarded the juice warily, but he eventually deemed it safe. It wasn't logical to go through all the effort of tending to his wounds just to poison him. Even with that thought in mind, his first sip was hesitant. It tasted overwhelmingly sweet, enough so that it almost made him gag, but he was so thirsty he probably would have taken just about anything.

Emily was standing on the corridor, listening to the conversation of two men. She sighed sadly, knowing that something was about to happen..

"Will you let me look at your shoulder?" the question was entirely unexpected, causing icy eyes to cut over to the other man, "It's bleeding again, and I'd like to get an actual bandage on it, if that's alright with you." He was asking his permission. The concept was almost intangible to his methodical mind. He had rarely been told what was happening to him, let alone given anything resembling a choice; when things needed to be done, things were done, and he had no say in them. He was interested in his wellbeing, so perhaps he was a new handler, to replace the ones that were dead.

"One round, sniper rifle, distance of several blocks." He repeated all the information he knew about the injury, "Bullet didn't exit, needs extraction." His voice was monotonous, not looking away from the man at his right. Several moments of silence passed before he watched the other man retrieve several items from the floor before sitting back down next to him, much closer this time. In response the soldier moved, sitting so that his back was to him so he could reach the wound easily. He was operating on programming and instinct, otherwise he never would have turned away from him.

"I'm going to take off the bandage now, let me know if it hurts and I'll stop." His voice was still that gentle tone that held a familiarity that he couldn't place. He didn't respond, just sipping the juice he had been given as he felt the other peel the blood-soaked fabric from the wound. To distract himself he tried to focus on the events that ended with him waking up in this place. He remembered something about the Strike team, about HYDRA, about desperately seeking out someone, about Robrax.

The asset tensed absentmindedly when he felt the other man dab at the wound with a cloth, wiping away the blood. He heard a hastily mumbled "sorry" from behind him before the work was continued, gentler than before. Minutes passed in silence, with the weapon sitting stilly and obediently as the taller man cleaned and dressed the wound. The disinfectant stung but he didn't show any discomfort, allowing him to clean the wound thoroughly as he let himself be lost in his own thoughts.

A hazy memory trickled into his mind of a cold and dimly-lit apartment, with himself and someone else sitting on a ratty old couch covered in moth-eaten blankets. The other person was scratching the stub of a charcoal pencil into a small sketchbook, bundled up in as many of those pathetic-looking blankets as he could and sitting as close to—me?—as was physically possible. He remembered feeling Steve, his name was Steve, shivering horribly even through all those blankets. It was winter, he'd just gotten over pneumonia, and he remembered how scared he'd been thinking he was going to lose him. But... why did he remember this? Were those memories actually his?

"… you still draw, don't you, Steve?" the soldier suddenly questioned, the degrading programming loosening its grip on his awareness now that he was fully awake. The other man, he remembered his name now. He was Steve Rogers. Captain Steve Rogers. He was the only face he could recall with any clarity, therefore he had to have held some significant importance to him at some time.

"I—" Steve faltered, finishing up wrapping gauze tape around his shoulder to hold the sterile packing in place, "Y-yeah I do, Buck. You… always liked watching me draw." His voice was tentative and hopeful, something the asset made immediate mental note of. He heard Steve putting away things behind him, and he took it as a sign that he was finished.

"… do you still keep a sketchbook?" the assassin wasn't sure why he was so interested, but the memory had been rather clear and he took it as an opportunity to possibly learn if it was real. He tilted his head to glance back over his shoulder, and saw Steve nod slightly. "Can I see it?" he wasn't used to asking questions, to voicing his own thoughts, and he felt a need to try it. Seeing the smile that broke across the other's face was oddly rewarding.

"Of course you can." Steve nearly fumbled over his own words, eyes alight with some emotion he couldn't place, "Here, Bucky." A shirt was held out to him when he turned to face him fully, "Your shirt was ruined, so you can use one of mine." Blue eyes regarded it somewhat warily, but he took it from him regardless. It was little more than a plain grey shirt, but it was appreciated. "I'll go and get you some more juice and my sketchbook. I'll be back in a moment." The empty cup was retrieved from his hand, the assassin not startling at the sudden movement, before the man left the room. Bucky. There was that name again. His name. He dimly recalled it—yes, it was his name.

The shirt was a little difficult to put on with his arm and shoulder injured, but it was managed. The horrific grinding and popping of his joint when he pulled it over his head confirmed that the injury had to be set. He added it into his mental list of injuries. The garment was a little big on his thinned frame, but it was clean and comfortable. It had a somewhat familiar scent to it as well that he couldn't quite recall. Even in as much pain as he was, he felt better than he had in a very long time. Not physically better; he felt absolutely awful physically, but maybe a little better mentally.

He had confirmation that his name was the same as the Sergeant memorialized in the museum, and that this other man was the same Steve that he could dimly remember. There was still an odd disconnect between himself and his past, between himself and the man known as Bucky, but this was a fragile thread that tied him back to it. There were a lot of blank, empty spaces where memories should be in his mind, and he doubted he'd ever get everything back, but this felt… right? Being here with Steve felt right. Yes, he was fairly certain this was the right thing to do.

Tired eyes caught sight of a few folded blankets on the floor near his feet. He might have just regained consciousness but he still felt absolutely exhausted and drained. One of the blankets was picked up, wrapped around him tightly to try and block the cold. It was one of those odd constants that never left; cold seemed to follow him like his own shadow, sinking teeth of ice into his flesh every waking moment. No matter what he tried he never could seem to warm himself up. He curled up tightly under the fabric, feeling a tentative safety for the first time in a long while. All the running and fear and paranoia was starting to melt, bit by bit, as he allowed his eyes to close willingly. By the time Steve returned, he had already dozed off, huddled against the arm of the couch with his back to the door; a small, fragile sign of trust. It was the first deep, peaceful sleep he could remember since he woke from stasis.

When he opened his eyes this time there was no light, the space dark and silent, the reason for just why he was awake unclear. Several moments passed before he realized he was staring into fabric; the back of a couch, he determined. Unease breathed at the back of his neck, but nothing seemed outwardly wrong around him. However, something still felt off. His memories were slow to catch up with his awareness, but he pieced together where he was soon enough. This time his return to consciousness didn't come with any overwhelming paranoia, just a faint acknowledgment of his surroundings; it was a first for the soldier.

He hadn't moved at all since falling asleep, the skill of remaining completely motionless honed into a fine art. It was an ability he'd possessed even before HYDRA's conditioning; he half recalled something about sniping. The downside was that he was now rather sore, and he was sure the injuries he'd sustained earlier in the night had only been compounded by his lack of movement. He'd slept on his right arm, which hadn't done his dislocated joint any favors. He would be sure to alert his new handler to the injury come morning.

There was a momentary lapse before he corrected his thought. Not handler, Steve. The man was an odd sort of mystery in his head. He wasn't a handler, wasn't a white-coated tech, wasn't anything he was familiar with. Steve was Steve. He was a strange exception in a world of ridged rules and protocols. Normally such an obvious outlier would make him nervous, but Steve's presence was comforting and nonthreatening and achingly familiar.

Movement was difficult; now that the adrenaline and shock had worn off he felt the full force of the pain. Every muscle seemed to ache, a deep-seeded burn that spread from his skin to the deepest parts of him. His prosthetic creaked and the servos whined pitifully, the weeks of abuse and ill-care wearing at it. Getting into a sitting position took much more effort than he expected, but now that he had a clear view of the entire room he felt a little safer. The tentative feeling of security let him will himself to take stock of his situation.

The room hadn't changed except for the light having been flipped off, but the darkness was of no hindrance. He could see rather well at night, but whether or not that was inherent or due to HYDRA tampering he wasn't sure. Despite the fact that this place exuded a sense of safety that he'd never experienced before, checking the perimeter and his surroundings was so ingrained in him that he felt a compulsion to do it.

As he moved to get up, he noticed there was a second blanket covering him. Or had been, before he sat up and caused it to tumble off of him in a heap. Absentmindedly he reached out to pick it up, wincing a bit at the metallic whine of his artificial joints and tendons. Several of the plates were jarred out of place, clanking together unnaturally and restricting his range of motion. Dried blood mired the reflective surface, coming not from himself but from nameless HYDRA agents. As soon as he had recovered enough to be effective, he had gone and destroyed every safe house he knew of, killing every HYDRA agent he came across. He was going to destroy HYDRA all on his own if it came to that; they were going to regret ever having created him. He'd see to it.

"Mm, Buck?" the sleepy hum of the Captain broke the silence, the soldier's eyes cutting over in that direction. He hadn't even noticed the other man had placed himself in a nearby chair, now-open eyes regarding him tiredly. Keeping an eye on me? Making sure I don't escape? The second thought made his brow furrow a bit. No, that's not right. He somehow just knew that wasn't why he had opted to rest out here instead of returning to the bedroom.

The asset didn't respond verbally, but gave him a brief nod before he carried through with picking up the blanket. The nervousness was once again settling into the pit of his stomach, the sort of feeling he expected prey felt before a predator sprung from the shadows. It was such an unfamiliar feeling, as he was usually the lurking predator in question. He could hear Steve stretching and moving to get up, so he decided to remain seated; he had a feeling the Captain would fuss if he tried to get up and walk with his wounds.

"Feeling any better?" the other's voice was far too bright for it being so early in the morning. The assassin just watched as he tapped at a phone, glancing to him after the screen lit up. He took a moment to check himself mentally before he responded. His metal fingers hesitantly relinquished their grip on the blanket, instead wrapping gingerly around his shoulder joint, where the Captain had dislocated it in their struggle.

"… arm hurts." He mumbled quietly, lacking the robotic, monotonous quality that had previously dominated his voice. He knew that the Captain had seen the deep bruising and discoloration around the joint, as the bullet wound was plastered in the middle of it, but he was well aware that there was likely little he could do for it. Even he wasn't sure if it was just a dislocation, or if there was a fracture as well. The frown that appeared on the other man's face at his words was enough to make the nervousness he was experiencing leap to the front of his mind.

"We'll get it looked at, don't worry." His voice was always so soothing, "But…" discomfort, possibly even fear crept into the other's tone suddenly, serving to heighten the soldier's apprehension. His gaze was at his phone again, tapping his finger against it nervously. "… we can't stay here, we need to get somewhere safe." The sense of urgency was contagious, it seemed. The hairs on the back of his neck were on-end again, and the assassin was on his feet in a few seconds.

"Buck, are you sure you're alright to be up and.." the glare he directed at the Captain was much more threatening than he meant it to be, but he got his point across as the rest of the man's sentence withered in his throat. He wasn't fragile, he wasn't to be coddled; he was a weapon that was damaged and malfunctioning, not broken and useless. Weakness wasn't tolerated, his handlers had made sure to drive that into his programming.

"Give me a minute to get ready and get you a jacket, then we've gotta move out." Those were words the soldier remembered and associated with. Location compromised, moving to safety. It must be why he woke up; HYDRA must be closing in. It was enough to make his muscles stiffen with readiness, not wanting to be taken by surprise like last time. They wouldn't have that luxury. Not again.

 Emily also had packed some necessary stuff earlier. She was standing in the middle of the room, with a backpack hanging over her shoulder.

“Guys…” she whispered. “We don’t have much time.”

Waiting was not in the Winter Soldier's repertoire, and instead of remaining still he was up and moving. The pistol he had dropped earlier was retrieved, inspected and placed into his pocket. There wasn't a lot of ammunition left in it, but enough to be useful. He'd done more damage with much, much less. Now that he was up he decided to do that perimeter check he'd been planning on. Steve was doing something in his room, so he avoided that room and checked every other one. His pass through the kitchen produced the knife he'd left that first night, still sullied with the Captain's blood, and a worn sketchbook. There was a twinge of guilt in his stomach that passed quickly as he placed the blade back into the sheath at his ankle. The small book, likely the one Steve had been bringing to show him, was tucked into his pocket.

The dull, aching burn in his muscles was pushed out of his awareness; now that there was a clear threat to him all pain was ignored. It was how he had been conditioned, trained and taught; pain was a weakness and only useful for determining damage after a successful mission. He hated to admit that he was nervous, but he was. He had the beginnings of fragile trust in Steve, but this had the makings of a trap. Suddenly relocating after arriving? Departing hours before the sun rose, when no one would ever notice their passing? It was enough to set off warning bells in the soldier's mind.

"Buck," the Captain's hesitant voice broke his thoughts, eyes cutting over to where the other man was peeking in from the door, "Are you ready?" again with questions, again with asking him things. It was still a strange and unusual concept to the asset, used only to demands and orders. He responded only with a curt nod, taking a jacket that the other offered to him. It was somewhat big on him, but worn and soft and comfortable nonetheless. Nothing like the rigid combat gear HYDRA had outfitted him with. In a way he felt vulnerable, missing the reassuring weight and constriction of his body armor.

Steve had a small pack slung over his shoulder, the contents of which the soldier didn't know, and shield strapped to his arm. It was clear, however, that they were likely not coming back, not for a long time at least. There was no sentimental attachment to this place for him, he didn't have any sentimental attachments honestly, but he did know this place and knew it was safe in his mind, so leaving it didn't sit right in his mind. He did know, however, that staying would end in certain HYDRA custody or death.

Ushered out into the hall, the soldier only moved when prompted by his new handler. No, Steve. His senses were on alert, although still dulled and sluggish from the blood loss earlier. The sleep and bandaging had improved his awareness a bit, although even with his serum it would take a few more hours before he would be in a condition he was comfortable with. He just watched as Steve tapped at his phone, door pulled shut behind him. It was only after he read some text message for the fifth time that he suddenly froze.

"Shit." Now that got a reaction out of the soldier. He tensed up and stood perfectly still, the tone of Steve's voice setting off warnings and alarm bells that something was catastrophically wrong. His tone had been nothing but softness and warmth up until now; the swear sparked just the ghost of a sensation in his head, of cold wind and the smell of gunsmoke as he peered over a trench in some long forgotten battlefield.

"We need to move. Now." the words spilled out of the blond man suddenly, a hand grabbing his right arm without warning and tugging him down towards the stairs. Normally such an unexpected action would have warranted a swift punch to the jaw, but the startled tone in the other's voice alerted him that something was very, very wrong. He didn't resist, letting Steve lead him swiftly down the stairs and towards a back door, the other man mumbling the entire way about something about the text having been wrong. Muffled voices—HYDRA, Strike team—filtered through the walls from outside, formless shadows visible through the frosted glass of the front doors.

Subtly was thrown out the window as Steve kicked the back door open and bolted outside, the asset stumbling and fighting to keep up with the jolting motion. The man had yet to let go of his arm, guiding him through narrow alleyways and side streets in a path that seemed predetermined. He didn't know the plan, which was a source of anxiety in and of itself, but Steve clearly had something in mind, so for the first time he—trust was too strong a word—relied on the other's decisions to get them out of harm's way.

HYDRA agents were all over, dressed in varying uniforms of Strike and police and others he did not recognize. They shouted as they tried to corner them, seemingly appearing from nowhere from alleyways and cars and from behind objects. Steve did not engage them, instead pulling him along as he ducked and weaved dizzyingly between buildings and sleepy streets. He had a set destination in mind, the asset could tell, and even though the sight of HYDRA angered him into considering pulling away to fight, he knew it was too risky to separate himself from the Captain.

Unfortunately, HYDRA did that for him. There was a sudden, jarring shout from one of the alleys they were about to blow past, and before either could react the darkened space filled with blinding light and a concussive sound. Flashbang. Steve yelled something but the asset didn't hear, the grip on his arm lost as the other covered his ears. Even before the white left his vision, formless shapes surrounded them as agents appeared to spring from the very walls to box them in. Wordlessly, the assassin and the Avenger stood back to back, fitting into formation as easily as if it was something they did every day. The pistol was pulled from his pocket, knowing that even with little ammo it would be more effective at the moment than a knife. There was a brief flash of familiarity in his mind, but the situation around him drowned it out almost instantly.

"Drop your weapon and surrender the asset, Captain Rogers!" a husky voice barked out, a dozen barrels of a dozen guns aimed at them. He could feel Steve tense against his back, but so vastly outnumbered and outgunned any outburst now would likely end in one or both of them dead.

"… Steve." He wasn't sure just why he spoke, or why his voice was softened and hinted with an accent he only vaguely recalled, but he did. It was a sort of rash, sudden need to ground himself in the present, to remind himself that the man behind him was indeed the Steve he could so faintly remember. His statement, however, had an unintended consequence.

"The asset's compromised," that growling voice spoke again, "he'll need to be wiped and reconditioned if we're going to salvage this." That statement triggered an intense, shattering terror in the assassin the likes of which he could not recall. Broken memories of deafening electricity crackling madly, of being tied down and unresisting and passive, suddenly swam in his mind and broke through his calculating combat mindset. Without thought he pressed himself further against Steve's back, as if somehow he could hide from his own horrifying memories in the other's presence.

"Buck, it's alright," voice hushed and gentle, the Captain spoke only loud enough for him to hear, "You've got to work with me, we're going to work together to get out of this, just follow my lead." It wasn't worded as an order or command, and as such disoriented the soldier for a moment, but that fragile ideal of trust settled in to fill in the gaps and his only response was a slight nod that went unseen. They could do this. “Emily. I’m gonna take their attention, you need to run. If they will take us three, nothing will left.”

She nodded slightly and before the fight, she ran toward the nearest window. She stopped in front of it, taking a look back at her men. Steve was looking at her above his shoulder, he gave her a nod, so she followed his order and jumped out of the window, disappearing in the darkness of the night.

There was no warning for the HYDRA agents, shield thrown and colliding with several and incapacitating them while three expertly placed and near-simultaneous bullets downed three permanently. They moved in sync, still keeping each at their back even after separating and lunging at the ring of agents that surrounded them. The now-useless pistol had been abandoned in favor for a blade, which was used to swiftly and efficiently disable and kill two more agents before they could even fire off a round.

The resonant clang of the shield behind him let him subconsciously track the Captain's movements, even as he threw himself into the tangle of agents in front of him. He used the knowledge that he was wanted alive to his advantage, as he knew they wouldn't dare try to shoot him at such close range as it would likely irreparably damage him and they would lose their prized asset. It couldn't have worked better for him, as he was just as comfortable and deadly dispatching a target at close range as he was sniping.

An agent was slammed against the nearby wall, razored blade deftly sliding between neck vertebras to kill his target instantly. Without a moment's hesitation he was upon another, moving with all the predatory grace of a hunting cat, throat slit and body casually dropped as if it were little more than a discarded jacket. The remaining two agents in his field of view turned and bolted, and had he been on his prior missions of annihilating HYDRA installations around the city he would have pursued them relentlessly, but now he barely acknowledged their escape. Instead, he spun on his heel to where Steve was fighting, wasting no time engaging the remaining agents that swarmed him.

His blood-sullied blade dipped into the throat of a Strike member readying to shoot Steve's back, a gurgled wheeze of horrified shock the only noise that escaped before he was roughly shoved aside. Sticky crimson soaked deep into his jacket and clothes beneath but little regard was given to it; the horrors of his actions seemed as commonplace as any daily act to him after decades of repetition. Another HYDRA infantrymen lunged at Rogers with a stun baton, but the soldier intercepted him, slashing with a precise stroke that opened the man's torso as easily as a zipper. He fell noiselessly into a jumbled heap of blood and viscera at the Captain's feet, a non-threat.

Soon only a few hostiles remained, mostly stepping far back and firing as many rounds as they could at Captain Rogers. The asset refused to leave the man's side again, tucked up close near him in an effort to deter any more firing, and to his dim surprise it seemed to work. The agents backed away even farther, guns raised but triggers untouched, eyes locked on them. He took the brief lull in fire to glance at Steve for a moment, to assess his condition. He was on his feet, but blood had soaked his right leg from a bullet wound to the calf. A slash from a knife tore through his jacket and into his side, while red dribbled from his saturated sleeve from another entry wound. He was standing, for the moment, but the soldier knew that even with the serum the blood loss would catch him quickly.

Steve asked something, something about how he was holding up or the like, but the assassin didn't catch it. Instead his attention was elsewhere when his eyes caught a brief flash of light from the roof of a building two streets over. His heart fell into his stomach and his shout of warning was lost to the rifle crack when the realization hit. Of course, the bullet hit first, just not in the place HYDRA had wanted it.

The soldier had reacted instinctively, kicking the back of Steve's injured leg hard enough that he buckled. His sudden movement meant the bullet, aimed for a kill shot on the Avenger's heart, instead struck and slid off the slant of his shield and hit his collarbone. A second bullet, fired milliseconds after the first from a likely second sniper, caught him across his already-slashed ribs, blossoming open as if it were a grotesque flower. The strangled cry of shock and pain that left the man as he crumpled to the ground snapped something buried deep beneath HYDRA programming, and within a half-second he had grabbed Steve by his arm and pulled him into a small alcove between two buildings. He heard two more bullets strike the asphalt where they had been moments before, and knew that HYDRA was likely not going to take Steve alive.

All thoughts of the remaining HYDRA agents were abandoned at the sound of Steve's raspy breathing, the assassin leaning him against the building wall as to hopefully ease it some as he leaned down to his level. Even though the shield had absorbed most of the energy of the round, the wound was devastating. The bullet had shattered his collarbone, flesh torn and ripped and blood dripping freely. A dribble of the crimson stained the Captain's chin, breath labored and choking and heaved in and out. His lung's been punctured, probably collapsing. The second bullet had no doubt shattered his ribs, and the awful torn wound was jagged and blown apart by the unimpeded bullet's passing. It was a grim prognosis.

The sounds of the agents trying to regroup from the attack were hardly registered, hands pressed to the man's injury in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of blood. A pained cough escaped him, reddened mouth slackened open as he tried again and again to fill his lungs full to no avail. "B… B-Buck…" he slurred wetly through the blood, half-lidded eyes beginning to glaze over as unconsciousness loomed, "… got t-to… get… a-away…" shock was setting in, body trembling under the assassin's hands, but he mustered the energy to nudge him with the shield in a halfhearted attempt to push him into running. He wanted him to leave him behind, to save himself from falling back into HYDRA's control. The very thought of it twisted the soldier's stomach in a knot and caused his breath to catch in his throat.

"S-Steve," his normally-controlled voice was shaky and small, fear filling every inch of him as trembling, blood-stained metallic fingers brushed golden hair away and cupped the Captain's cheek to hold his gaze on him, "You've gotta hold on," his eyes began to sting as an unfamiliar heat and blurriness began to build, "I-I'm not leaving you behind." Something had woken up deep in his mind, faint ghosts of memories of battles long past. Of fights in alleys where both refused to run away, never leaving the other's side. It was such a strong emotion that consumed him that he couldn't ever hope to fight it, and strangely enough, he possessed no will to resist it.

Footsteps and barked orders behind him drew him from his withdrawn, focused state. It was like a switch flicking in his head, the sharp focus of combat and programming setting in, and within the space of a breath he had taken the shield from Steve's faltering grasp and spun around, keeping himself between the agents and his injured partner. His vision was blurred and his eyes stung fiercely, an unfamiliar wetness trailing down a cheek, but he didn't move from his defensive stance, rooted to the spot with shield held solid in his metal prosthetic. The plates whirled and slid together with a groan of protest, ready to lash out with the vibranium disk at the slightest movement.

"Get away!" he snarled in a voice so loud it startled the men, "Get away from him!" he swung the shield at an agent that dared to approach, knocking him clean off his feet and sending him tumbling. The sharp, ripping pain as his own shoulder wound tore caused him to wince, but it was immediately stuffed down as he had much more important things to focus on. Seeing their own knocked away so easily, even while he was in such a state, caused the others to take heed and back away a few feet. Even though his joint protested, he retrieved and hid a blade in the palm of his injured arm, keeping it disguised behind the shield. If they got close again they would be in for a nasty surprise.

"This is… unexpected." The same agent who spoke earlier piped up, rifle trained on the pair with deadly intent, "Looks like the programming has decayed more than anticipated. General Lukin isn't going to be pleased." That name was familiar, and struck a fear like a dagger of ice into the soldier's heart. He pressed himself back, shield held higher in a desperate attempt to keep the agents at bay. Steve moved behind him, whimpering in pain, and a moment later the former Soviet felt his hand press reassuringly to his back in a wordless gesture of trust. It was enough to steel his nerves, to dispel his own fear just enough to focus on the agents who had chanced to venture further.

With an almost animalistic roar, he leapt at the nearest agent, jamming the sharp edge of the shield into his ribcage, crushing it like a flimsy can. He dropped into a tangle of limbs, and he used the moment of confusion to swing at another, feeling the agent's skull cave under the impact. The shield was brought down on the neck of another agent, while the knife in his right hand pierced the torso of one rushing at him. As he swiveled to lunge at the seeming-commander he froze mid-strike, eyes wide with terror, when he saw that another agent had a gun trained to the downed Captain's head.

"No!" the word clawed its way out of him, shield and blade falling from his hand in a show of submission, eyes wide with feral panic. "D-don't do it." He'd never demanded anything from anyone, not in all his active years, but he was now. He was scared, desperate and out of options, pleading like one of his victims to spare the other man's life. The commander's gravelly voice broke into a laugh behind him, but before he could round on him he felt a pinprick on the back of his neck, followed immediately by a burst of warmth that spider-webbed through his body. His knees buckled and vision swam, awareness growing fuzzy as he collapsed to the ground. He gasped out Steve's name, tried to push himself back up, but he couldn't even prevent his eyes from sliding shut a heartbeat later. His hearing muffled, but the last thing he was aware of was that growl of a voice ordering the surviving agents to take the both of them before everything drained away into nothingness.

Smartphone || drabble

Words: 1059

Warnings: none at all

SUMMARY:  Bucky and Steve and their first time with smartphone

Request by: Anonymous

Author: Cass and Beast.

It was a day like many else before. Bucky, sitting on the couch at the Avengers' Tower, was playing with a little object in his hands.

Steve walked to him and looked at lil object. "Is it Stark's phone, Bucky? I think he told you to not touch his stuff." Steve muttered and sat next to his friend.

"Yeaaah, I've heard all this before, pal" Bucky shrugged slightly, moving one of his metal fingers over the screen. "I like to make him mad. Besides. It's only a piece of metal and glass."

"A piece of metal and glass that is really important for him, just like for everyone in these days." Steve only shrugged. "I have no idea what interesting is in those smartphone or whatever... In our times we didn't have stuff like this." He muttered.

"Heh" Bucky rolled his eyes. "That dude can't spend even 5 minutes without this device. I'm curious what he would do if I would hide it somewhere..." Bucky giggled under his breath. "Our century was much different, Steve. Maybe harder, but better."

"One day he will kick you out of here. You are cruel for him. Father's day and Stark gets a cup from you.. With words "I love my dad" and you HAD to add "Sorry Tony" using permanent marker." Steve rolled his eyes and looked at his friend. "What are you doing there?" He said and slowly looked at phone.

"Oh, c'mon Stevie!" Bucky poked Steve's leg. "I just wanna see his reaction" brunette got up and looked around. "Maybe here..." he approached the bookshelf and when he tried to put phone behind books, he accidentally unlocked the screen. "Fuck!"

"Hey, hey!" with flash hand he carefully moved his finger along the screen. "The fuck is that, Steve? I've never seen something like that before.."

"It's just a phone Bucky. I saw how Tony uses it, he just moves his fingers and touches it and the phone do whatever he wants."

"Lemma try this" Bucky, without a blink, started to click each of the icons on the screen. "Oh.. How many numbers... Mom.. Mostly to women. Precious informations" Bucky chuckled darkly.

Steve gently smacked Bucky in the back of his head. "Remember that those numbers can be also important for him." He said. "Maybe try to touch the other... lil picture on this phone." Steve said, he couldn't help said he became a bit curious.

Bucky looked at his pal. "Really, man?" he rolled his eyes annoyed. But he followed Steve's advice and he touched another icon. "Shit, man, I've just started recording... Wait!" Bucky raised his hand with the phone in it. "Hi, Tony! Don't worry, your phone is a good hands!" Bucky waved to the camera.

"Just don't kick him out Tony, please. Turn it off back. Now" Steve muttered. "Gimme that." Steve took the phone and returned to the couch. "What else can be here..?" Man said and looked at his friend.

Bucky eagerly followed his friend and jumped on the couch. "Hey, I wanna see too!"

"Stark is gonna kill us pal." Steve smiled softly and opened phone's gallery. "Oh... look at that, photos... and there is our video... shell we look at all photos?"

"Are ya kidding me, Steve?!" Bucky blinked. "Sure! We have to!" Bucky wrapped his metal arm around Steve's shoulders to see phone better.

Steve laughed shortly. "Sooo..." He started look trough photos. "So... there is Pepper... Rhodey in hospital... This new kid, Parker, and of course... photos with many different women... Now you Buck." Steve said and gave phone back to his friend.

"Pepper would be soooo mad" Bucky pretended to be sad. "Well.. Wait.. I recognize that funny thing looking like a bird." Bucky clicked the icon and entered Stark's twitter.

"You aren't good in pretending." Steve shook his head and moved closer to Bucky. "What is it, pal?"

"Once I saw how Stark was.. How he said.. Was updating his status on.. Twitter thing... Or something like that.."

Steve only shook his head. "I think I'm too old for this, Buck."

"Me too... But.." Bucky managed to use the keyboard.

STEVE & BUCKY WERE THERE. XOXO

After writing he presses on the "post it" button. "Done."

Steve laughed. "Soo! What now? Maybe he has some music here? I'm wonder what is he listening to."

Bucky tried to click another icon, but somehow he clasped the device in his metal hand and he crushed it. "Fuck me."

Steve blinked. "Yea! I told you." He frowned. "What now?"

"PAAAARKEEEEERRR!" Bucky yelled loudly.

"Really, Buck. What he's gonna do? He is just a kid." Steve muttered looking at his friend.

"PARKER, move your lazy ass here!!!" Bucky yelled again.

"What WHAT! What?! Aliens? Thanos? or something else what is very evil?!" Peter jumped into room really surprised and confused.

"Catch it, kid!!" Bucky threw crushed phone at Parker's direction.

“Woohoo! Wait! This is Mr. Stark's phone… What have you done?" He asked. Steve shrugged. "His fault." He pointed at Bucky.

"Traitor" Bucky poked Steve's shoulder. "I accidentally broked this. But.. Now you are holding this.. So.. None of my fault" he giggled.

"Um..." Peter looked at Bucky even more confused.

Steve sighed deeply. "Bucky, he is just a kid. You can't treat him like this." Man slowly got up and walked to Peter, he took the phone from him. "Go to your room. I will take care of this.”

Peter slowly nodded and quickly left the room.

~Few hours later~

"My phone... Where did I left it?” Tony muttered to himself, looking into every place where he could possibly left his phone. Kitchen -no. Bathroom - no. living room - no. Bedroom - no. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, do you know where my phone is?! If not, can you locate it for me?" He muttered deeply annoyed. "I can't do that Mr. Stark, but I want to inform you that Steve Rogers left something in your office.” Tony rolled his eyes and quickly went to his office. He saw something on his desk, he also saw small note. Tony walked closer and saw that this 'something’ was his phone. Crushed. He looked at the note. "Hey, Tony... Your phone had small accident... Bucky is sorry. - Steve" Tony could felt how anger was growing inside him.

"BARNES! I TOLD YOU SOMETHING ABOUT TOUCHING MY STUFF!"

When I Take Over Control || Bucky Barnes x reader smut drabble

Words: 3959

Warnings: SMUT!

Author: Rouge

I hated Bucky Barnes. He was ruining me. He sent absolutely filthy texts to me at work, making my face flush and the afternoons long and miserable. I had to painstakingly pick tops and accessories that covered the bruises and love marks scattered across my neck and shoulders. My muscles were nearly always in delightful agony from our rough sessions together. He took any opportunity that presented itself to strip off his shirt in front of me. The pleasure he derived from watching me blush and try to tear my eyes away far outweighed any reservations he still had about his metal arm. He owned me and he knew it. Although HYDRA had tried their best to snuff out James Buchanan Barnes, the charming, cocky little shit he had been in the 40s had gradually reemerged. Bucky and I made a habit of going to the Tower’s gym together just about every day. He would work his body and fight his demons. He never voiced it, but I knew he appreciated my presence. He spotted me lifting weights, pushed me on runs and had insisted on teaching me self defense. It gave him a little peace of mind knowing I was strong and could take care of myself. He was also greatly amused when I constantly told him “Fight me.” after we spent a week on hand to hand combat. Bucky was usually all business while working out, but he was in rare form today. He spent the entire elevator ride up standing behind me, sliding his palms up my sides and groping my ass. When we reached the gym floor I stepped out ahead of him, dodging a very sweaty and tired looking Clint. Bucky nodded to Clint and followed me out of the elevator, landing a resounding slap onto my ass as he passed me. An hour later I had collapsed to the gym floor in a puddle of sweat. Bucky was lying on a bench across the room, pressing a bar that weighed more than two of me. As I lay there trying to breathe normally again, I took the opportunity to admire him. His bare chest and abdomen glistened with sweat and heaved with exertion. His gym shorts had ridden up slightly, and the brawny muscles in his thighs bunched as he dug his feet into the floor. His metal arm shone in the fluorescent light. The quiet whirring sound it emitted and the delicious grunt he huffed out with every rep made catching my breath more difficult. I was enthralled with every move his tantalizing body made. I pushed myself up off the floor and sauntered toward him as his bar clattered back onto the rack. He sat up and I bit the inside of my cheek as I leaned against the machine next to him. The veins in his forearms were bulging as he pulled his arm across his face, swiping away sweat. A stray strand of dark brown hair had fallen from his loose bun and was plastered to his damp neck. The sweat that had pooled in the dip of his collarbone rolled slowly down his chest. My eyes followed as it trickled its way to the waistband of his sweats. I swallowed heavily at the almost overwhelming impulse to follow the wet trail with my tongue. “Enjoyin’ the view?” I ran my tongue over the indention my teeth had left in my lip, still ogling him shamelessly. “Its the only enjoyable thing about coming here.” Bucky huffed out a short laugh and unscrewed the cap off his water bottle. “Better quit lookin’ at me like that, doll,” he took a long gulp of water, letting a droplet escape the corner of his mouth and trickle down his chin. “That door doesn’t lock and I’d hate to accidentally give somebody a show.” He sat the bottle down, fixing me with his clear blue gaze. “You know, I’ve always been a bit of an exhibitionist” I purred, brazenly meeting his intense stare. His stubbled jaw tightened. “But I think you have one more set left,” I smirked as I bent to grab his water bottle, giving him a up close look at my sweat-sheened chest. I straightened, removed the lid and took several long sips, being sure to let a significant amount of water escape and rush down my neck and through the valley between my breasts. Bucky blinked. I made a show of deeply swallowing and let out a satisfied and slightly sensuous sigh. I noticed Bucky’s flesh hand twitch and I relished in giving the teasing bastard a taste of his own medicine. I winked cockily as I pivoted and strutted across the gym to retrieve my bag, feeling proud of myself for finally gaining one small victory in this game we played. As I reached the treadmill where I had haphazardly dropped my bag, I heard the weights rattle as Bucky began to press the bar again. Bucky was always a silent worker in the gym. Heavy huffs were the only noises he had ever made. But the bastard was now grunting with every press. Husky, lustful sounds that made my core flutter. They were sounds I had only heard in moments of fiery passion. Blurred images of hot skin, gripping hands, rolling hips and euphoric cries flashed through my mind. I slowly turned back to face him as he brought the bar down for his last rep. He pressed it from his chest. Bare, shining skin, every muscle straining, a pornographic sight… and then he moaned. The fucker unabashedly moaned. Bucky deposited the bar back onto the rack and let his arms flail to his sides. As I stared, captivated with his immense, muscular form, his ribcage began to bounce as he chuckled. “What the hell are you laughing at?” I hitched my gym bag strap onto my shoulder and glared at him. Bucky just swung one powerful leg over the bench and stood. Pinning me with his lecherous gaze, he crossed the room in a few long strides. He stopped close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off his body, and the sweet musk of sweat, soap and leather surrounded me. The combination was potent. I fixed my eyes on his and tried to ignore the intoxicating effect he had on me. I inhaled shakily as his metal hand snuck its way to my skin. “You can try teasin' me doll,” his words dripped from his mouth like honey, smooth and decadent. He drew his cool metal finger down my side. “But it's a game you just won’t win.” The fog clouding my brain grew thicker the lower his hand drifted. The tip of his finger lightly curled just under the hem of my shorts just as his tongue dragged a short path from just below my ear to my lobe, which he delicately caught between his teeth. I involuntarily shuddered and he instantly stepped away. I blinked blankly into his face and exhaled sharply, my mind a muddled mess. Bucky winked. “See you upstairs.” He then spun on his heel and strutted out of the gym. I gaped at his broad back until he disappeared. The door slammed behind him, jolting me from my dazed state. Damn him. I knew what he wanted. He expected me to fly after him, a quivering mess of need and want, begging him to take me in every possible way. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with being taken every which way by Bucky Barnes, I was not going to do it this time. I was going to win a round once. I knew he would be in the shower, waiting for me to fling the glass door open and pull him under the water, throwing myself onto his wet skin, skimming my hands over every reachable inch of his chiseled form, tangling my fingers in his dripping hair… as I always did. But not this time. I stomped toward the gym shower, thankful that I had a tiny travel bottle of body wash and an extra t-shirt buried in my bag. I stripped and stepped under the near scalding spray. The water flowed through my hair and over my skin, the steam enveloping me for the next 10 minutes as I imagined all the indulgently dirty things I was going to do to Bucky Barnes. I knew I didn’t have long before Bucky would come back looking for me, so I hurriedly swept a towel over myself before shrugging on the oversized shirt. It stuck to my still damp skin and my hair left wet spots on my shoulders. I decided to forgo my sweaty underwear and shorts, making sure my shirt covered my ass and held the bag strategically placed over my front. I dashed for the elevator and prayed everyone else was otherwise engaged in the Tower. I breathed a small sigh of relief when I arrived at Bucky’s room without encountering any of the others. As I tapped the code to open the door, I bit my lip, shivering at the thrill of what was about to come. I let the door close with a bang behind me as I sauntered into the apartment, tossing my bag onto the couch. The bedroom door flew open and a very irritated looking Bucky stepped out. He had obviously just finished his shower. The ends of his hair were still shedding tiny droplets of water and several small strands stuck to his forehead. He glared at me, clearly disgruntled after being left to shower alone. He was also naked from the waist up, only wearing low-slung black sweatpants. Damn, if he wasn’t the most sinful looking piece of heaven I had ever seen. “Where did you go? Why do you look like you've already showe-…” He trailed off mid sentence, noting my appearance. His eyes roved over my figure, assessing my half dressed state. “What are you wearing?” he asked in a low voice. “A shirt,” I replied flippantly as I leaned over the couch, rummaging through my bag for my water. I exaggerated the stretch, making sure he got a glimpse of my bare ass. “Yours, actually.” I thought I heard him growl. “Tell me you did not come all the way up here in that.” His tone was menacingly calm. I straightened and faced him, tossing the cap from my bottle over my shoulder. “I came all the way up here in this.” Bucky’s eyes darkened. I took long swallows of water and stared back insolently. “What if someone had seen you? What if Tony had happened to step in with you?” I drained the bottle. “So what?” His jaw clenched and I grinned audaciously. “You’re mine.” I crossed my arms. “You don’t own me. I don't belong to anyone” Bucky took one slow step toward me. “You’re mine.” Then another. “You’re my girl.” Another step. “You’re my dirty little girl. It's my cock fillin’ your mouth and your tight cunt. It's my name you scream every night. No one else’s.” He was now so close that my breasts, bare under the thin shirt, grazed his massive chest. His soft breath in my ear contrasted with the rough stubble scraping my cheek. I wanted to give in. To fall into him, let him ravage me and indulge every lustful craving. But this time, even if it was just this once, he would fall apart under me. “You can’t resist me.” I tilted my chin, smiling defiantly up at him. My fingertips slithered up the inside of his right thigh and I squeezed his hardening erection. Raising up on my toes, I giggled airily, pressing against him until my lips brushed his as I spoke. “You’re so right.” Bucky’s breath hitched. I nibbled on his full bottom lip before sucking it between my teeth. And then I abruptly pulled away, pushing past him toward the bedroom door. “What the hell?” he rasped behind me. I bit back my smirk. Got him. “Is there something you need?” I inquired sweetly as I turned to blink innocently up at him. Bucky growled, his metal hand lashing out to grasp the back of my neck. I stopped its advance, clutching his forearm in front of my face. His eyes flashed beneath his dark brow. “I said, is there something you need?” I asked again forcefully, letting my gaze wander from his eyes, to his inviting mouth and back up. “You know what I need,” he whispered hoarsely. “Tell me. “I need you.” Say it,” I murmured. Bucky flexed his jaw. He loved being in control. “Say please, Bucky,” I breathed alluringly, releasing his arm and running my fingers over his stubble. “Say it and I can give you everything you want.” He sighed softly, his crystal eyes peering into mine. “Please… I want it.” “Tell me you need me,” I whispered against his lips. “I need you.” With his throaty plea, the desire consumed me. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” I teased as I kneeled in front of him. I slid my palms up his powerful thighs and hooked my fingers in the waistband of his sweats. My tongue skimmed along the line where fabric met skin from one hip to the other. As I gently tugged them down, I placed feathery kisses on every inch of newly revealed skin. When the pants dropped to his ankles I let my eyes travel up his frame. He was a solid wall of taut muscle. His hungry eyes were smoldering at me behind wisps of dark hair. He was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen. I kept my eyes locked on his as I took the tip in my mouth and whimpered when the sweet taste of his precum coated my tongue. Bucky’s eyes dilated, dark pupils nearly blacking out sky blue. He brought up both hands to grasp my head, but I and snatched them away. “I didn’t say you could touch me.” Bucky arched a brow, bemused. I licked a long stripe from base to tip, still firmly squeezing his wrists. He sucked in a tight breath. “No touching” I ordered, dragging my lips along the underside of his cock. I released his hands and engulfed him in my mouth. Sliding my head up and down, slicking him and taking more and more of his length. Soon the head was hitting the back of my throat, producing a wet, choking sound. I took in a long gasp of air through my nose before pushing my head down, until he was fully sheathed in my throat and my nose had almost reached the short, black curls at his base. I swallowed around him, the walls of my throat massaging his girth. I gagged once and sat back. Bucky was clenching and unclenching his fists, his abs tightening with each gasping breath. I slipped a hand up the hard ridges and dragged my nails back down. His cock muffled my mewl. My other hand wrapped around his shaft and I began to jerk him as I sucked on the head. My tongue circled the tip with each pull of my hand and mouth. Bucky’s head fell back. His fingers flexed at his sides, battling the impulse to roughly grip my neck and fuck my throat as he so often did. Frenzied gagging sounds and guttural grunts filled the air. Saliva, forced out of the corners of my mouth with every plunge, rolled from my chin and slid down my throat. It was all so vulgar and everything I craved. Bucky tipped over the edge with a hoarse cry, swelling in my mouth. “Ah… fuck… ssshit…” He convulsed above me as pleasure wracked his body. I pressed my palm against him, and his warm, calloused hand gripped my wrist for support as he panted. The other came to rest on the back of my head, thumb stroking through my hair as I eagerly drank his load. I moaned around him, shamelessly begging him for every last drop. He was looking down at me as I slowly released him from my mouth. Chest heaving, pupils blown, eyes glazed over from his high. “Now.. Lay down.” Bucky blinked. “What?” I almost felt bad for impeding on his post-orgasmic bliss. Almost. “On the couch. Lay down. Now.” He took two steps back and lowered himself onto the couch, still looking slightly disoriented. “Don’t move” I murmured. I stepped up next to him, so close my knees brushed his shoulder. I lifted the hem of his shirt over my head, revealing my naked form underneath. The cool air raised chill bumps on my newly exposed skin. I let the shirt drop to the floor beside me. Bucky’s eyes never left mine as I brought one knee to rest between his head and the back of the couch. I placed the other on the sofa’s edge and my hands on the arm rest behind him. I could have come solely from the sight beneath me. Bucky was gazing up at me from between my legs, his eyes blazing with desire. His cool breath caressed my slick folds. I shoved a hand through his soft hair and tugged his face up to my pussy. “Make me come, Bucky.” He didn’t have to be asked twice, immediately running his tongue from my entrance to my clit. His hands came up to clutch my ass, burying his face in my cunt. The harsh scraping of his stubbled jaw on my inner thighs would be well worth it. He enclosed my bundle of nerves in his lips and began to flick his tongue over it while sucking gently. “Buck… Bucky, shhhit, oh god…” My high pitched whimpers and breathy curses filled the room. Both of my hands were twisted in his hair as I rode his pretty mouth. His fingers dug into the flesh of my ass and he matched my rhythm, tongue stroking from my dripping entrance to massage my clit with every roll of my hips. “Oh fuck… don’t stop… I’m so close, baby” I panted breathlessly. Bucky groaned against my sex and my legs trembled. His rough flesh hand stretched up and tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck. He wrenched my head down, arching my body back over him. His cybernetic arm wound around my waist, firmly holding my pussy to his lips, working my cunt for all he was worth. Alternating between delicately nibbling and sucking my clit, he landed a sharp slap to the back of my thigh that sent me spiraling into bliss. I trapped his head with my legs as I shuddered in pleasure. His unyielding hold on my hair kept me bent backward, broken and raspy screams falling from my throat. Eventually my muscles slackened and my cries faded to elated gasps. Bucky’s mouth lingered against my glistening folds, the tip of his tongue lazily lapped at my pulsing clit. His swollen lips kissed gingerly, and gentle tremors shook my body as I floated back to earth. I crawled down his body until I was straddling his waist, clasping the back of his neck with one hand and splaying the other through his long hair. He sighed at the sensation and I pressed my lips to his full mouth. His face was soaked with my orgasm. The taste of my arousal on his hot tongue drove me wild, and the moan that surged from my throat was swallowed by his fervid kisses. I was on fire, burning with the need to be surrounded by him, filled by him. I tugged his hair, yanking his head back and exposing his neck to my wandering lips. “Do you want me, baby?” I whispered, my tongue gliding out to taste his skin. “You want to fuck me into this couch?” A low moan rumbled in Bucky’s chest as he sat upright. He wrapped his cool metal arm around my hips, crushing my soft frame to his hard body. His other hand skimmed up my side and clamped onto the back of my neck. My palms grabbed at his shoulders as he stood from the couch, his massive strength sweeping me up as if I was weightless. He turned, delving his tongue into my mouth. I captured it between my lips and sucked lightly. “Put your mouth on me.” He obeyed instantly, dipping his head to slide his lips up the column of my throat. “Yes, baby… so good,” I whimpered as Bucky ventured lower, sealing his mouth onto my nipple, biting softly. “So good for me.” “Take me, James,” I purred. “I want you inside me.” Bracing one hand against the arm of the couch, Bucky guided himself to my opening, swiping his length back and forth through my wetness. “Now, Bucky,” I pushed, digging my fingertips into his ribs and wrapping my legs around the back of his thighs. With a throaty groan, he plunged forward, burying himself fully in one thrust. With both hands grasping the armrest, he ground his hips against mine, driving as deep as he could. All the air flew from my lungs as slammed into me with all the power behind his hips and arms. With each punishing snap of his hips, he hit a spot that made my head spin and my walls seize around his thick cock. “Yes, god… oh fuck, Bucky!” I screamed, clinging to him for dear life. Blinding ecstasy swept my body. His breaths came in irregular heaves and every muscle was trembling. I knew he was close to coming undone all over again. “No. Not yet.” “What?” he grated out. “You’re not done yet,” I gasped, reaching down to the firm flesh of his ass, jerking him flush against me. “I want more. Give me one more.” Bucky growled harshly and pulled himself from me. His hair was falling around his face, casting dark shadows across his glinting eyes. Sitting back on his knees, he towered above me, making a ferocious sight. Snatching my ankle, he hoist my right leg onto his metal shoulder. As he sank himself once more into my pulsating cunt, he tossed my left leg over the other. He planted his palms on either side of my head, his bulk forcing me into the cushions. Slipping completely from me before ramming his length deep into my center, he desperately drove me toward my undoing. My knees were pinned against my shoulders, and with every unforgiving thrust, Bucky reached a place within me he had never been. “Don’t forget to breathe, darlin’.” His voice was strained, betraying his struggle to keep his own end at bay. He held my gaze as our bodies, slick with sweat, fused together again and again. Hair wisped against my face and each breath he took fanned across my skin. I choked for air and clung to his immovable arms. His name was the only word I knew and it fell from my lips in broken gasps and moans, over and over with each euphoric surge that wrecked my body. As I writhed below him, Bucky lost control over his climax. “Shit baby, I can’t… fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come..” His body went rigid and his cock throbbed inside me. I felt the rush of warmth spread through my core. Prayers, pleas and profanities spilled from his mouth. With one final rough cry, Bucky collapsed on top of me. His forehead rested on my breastbone as he struggled for breath. My eyes drifted closed and I tenderly carded my fingers through his hair as we basked in paradise together. “Look at me.” His cerulean eyes peered into mine, so trusting and vulnerable. “I’m yours, Mr Barnes. Always.”

Believer || Part I

Words: 1910

Warnings: none at all

SUMMARY: MCU Crossover With Tomb Raider 2013

Request by: Anonymous

Author: Rouge

“Come here, boys! We have fresh meat over here!”

The man had appeared out of the foliage with barely a rustle of his announcement. His clothing was weather worn and threadbare, a suggestion of a harsh life. He could see stains of questionable and queasy origins spattered here and there, dark like ink but not with the same texture, not at all. His hair was dark and greasy, his scratchy beard thick. The leer in his eyes and the crooked smirk weren’t welcoming either. He had a gun. Bucky recognized it simply because he had grown accustomed to their sight over the many years.

He was alarmed when he began to pick out more bodies emerging into sight from the darkness of the forest, some up high on overhanging precipices; several were in trees, and the rest on the ground, flanking the first man. Some had rifles. Others, pistols. He even noticed, oddly enough, some were armed with bows and arrows.

All were aimed at him.

“If this is your welcoming committee, then I shudder to think about the reception of guests you fail to successfully entertain. This is rather poor in taste, if you ask me.”

The first man, the leader of the ragtag bunch, scowled and spat out a curse at him. It took Bucky a moment to realize he had spoken Russian, the dialect heavy as the syllables growled over one another. It took him another to realize what the man had said.

“Fucking smart ass. I’ve shot men for less insult.”

He jerked the gun in his hand, pointing a vague direction for Bucky to move. Bucky didn’t. Instead, he addressed the man in his apparent native tongue. “Where are you taking me?”

The Russian was unimpressed at being addressed in his mother tongue, even if he did give pause.

“Move!”

The weapon’s hammer was cocked back for emphasis, a loud and unsettling click that cleaved the very air with its sound. He startled when one of the men suddenly pitched forward with barely a grunt and hiss of air issuing from his mouth. He fell forward, his weapon—a rifle—clattering to the forest floor with a loud clatter, tangling in the undergrowth. An arrow protruded from the Bucky man’s backside.

The Russian barked at his men, stirring them into action and they scrambled into organized chaos. The Russian turned on him, the barrel of the gun reestablished on him. He hissed away, stalking forward to close the gap between him and Bucky.

“She’s come for you, boy,” he growled, a dark light sparking in his eyes. “I’ll kill you before she gets a chance to even see your face.”

The gut punch had the taller man doubling over, wheezing heavily at the strike. Bucky wasn’t aiming to kill or maim the man, simply disarm him and relocate. The Russian’s grip on his gun hadn’t broken, but he was too busy catching his breath to notice. He never got the chance to, either.

Another arrow whizzed out from the dark and struck the Russian’s neck, punching through from back to front, an arrowhead sprouting out of his throat. The gun fell from abruptly limp fingers, and then the Russian followed suite with a strangled gurgle. Bucky stumbled back, in horror and shock. The light in the Russian’s eyes went out and he wheezed his last breath, blood bubbling from the oozing wound as he collapsed on his face.

The forest fell silent and it was in that moment he realized all the men that had appeared from nowhere were dead.

All of them.

An unsettling silence had Bucky over the forest, and the shadows around him seemed to grow darker, longer, reaching for him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up and stood at attention while an icy shudder snaked its way down his spine.

His metal arm reached his vest's pocket and pulled out a handy knife. The dark blade was gleaming in what little light the moon above provided. The familiar weight of a tactic vest settled around his shoulders, providing a comforting sense of security and protection as it did.

He felt eyes on him, but how many and from where, he wasn’t too sure. He just knew that whoever killed the men, they were still here. Bucky didn’t have long to wait. He whirled at the first sign of movement, but he stopped short of himself in surprise at what he faced.

It was a slip of a young woman, much smaller than he was. She was dressed sensibly enough to move fast and not allow herself to be caught up by snagged clothing. It was all form fitting without being too tight on her, she had grey tight cargo pants, a striped shirt which probably was white in the past, pair of a hiking boots. There was a bulk to her build and Bucky saw why. The silhouette of knives strapped at her sides, a rifle on a sling over her shoulder, a quiver of arrows belted at her hip, and a bow held casually in one hand, a pistol in the other. She cleared the area with the pistol, watching for any unwanted movement before holstering it at her back when she deemed it safe.

She had beautiful, big brown eyes and smooth skin. Bucky noticed a little bruise at her cheek. Her little nose was adding kind of a charm to her figure. She slowly rised her brow, glaring at him.

The woman ventured closer, her posture still tense but it had relaxed greatly in comparison to the few steps she had taken when she arrived. She was showing she wasn’t an enemy by holstering her weapons, but she would still ready at the drop of a hat to jump into action if things went south. He could sense all of that just by the way she held herself.

She slowly reached to sling the bow on a holster on her back, leaving her hands open and free. Her eyes never left him.

“These men would have killed you if I hadn’t intervened. The Solarii aren’t known for their kindness and mercy. Negotiating with them is impossible when they’ve been trained to kill without hesitation. Especially if it looks like you’re going to fight back.” She started in way of greeting. The woman tilted her head to the side. “Surprised they delayed so long in shooting you. Good thing they did. Gave me time to get here.”

He was still tongue-tied at the suddenness of the events that had transcended within the span of a few sparse minutes.

She turned, motioning for him to follow.

He trailed after her with uncertainty in his steps. “Wait... wait! Where am I? Who are these Solarii? And what’s your name?”

The woman craned her head to peer over her shoulder at him. Her gaze was steady and even, unfaltering as she studied him. They passed through the undergrowth for several minutes in silence before she answered him.

“You’re on an island called Yamatai. It’s in the Dragon’s Triangle, west of Japan. The Solarii are…shipwreck survivors. They’re a band of murderers that have laid claim to the island, killing or recruiting any men who wash up on shore. They burn any women they come across.”

A sour taste coated the back of his throat and his stomach turned uneasily at that. He didn’t remember how he’d gotten here, and he wondered if he was alone.

I think I am, but…no. Please don’t let the others be here.Steve. Sam. Natasha.

“Have…have there been any others…?” He couldn’t finish. The woman seemed to take that as a cue.

“Like you? No. You’re the only one I’ve come across, dressed as you are.”

There was little relief in her answer. It only meant he was the first, and that the others might very well be here.

The woman unclipped something from her belt and waggled the item. It was an oval-shaped device, black and ringed with perhaps a white or yellow stripe. A thin tube stuck out from its top.

“The Solarii get riled up when others are spotted on the island. No doubt they’ve already gotten on the horn and started bleating like the mindless sheep they are to others on their radios about you.” She continued as they began climbing up a small incline. The trees were thinning, and there was a path up ahead, and it looked like there was an old bridge they could cross. “You’re the only one right now. If there were others, I would have heard about them on this.”

He didn’t feel very reassured, even with that statement. A thought occurred to him.

“You never told me your name.”

They came across the bridge. It might have once been painted a pleasing, imperial crimson red, but time had taken its toll on it. Still, it was intact and spanned over the length of a small pond. The night critters had begun their hushed chorus and he had barely noticed until then.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But then, what do I call you? My name’s James Barnes, but more often I'm called Bucky.”

When she walked, she was quiet. She moved with the purpose to be as quiet as possible. He sought to do the same, in case they ran into any more of those Solarii men. He didn’t fancy having another dozen guns pointed at his person, thank you very much.

“Lara. Lara Croft.”

He stopped halfway across the bridge, startled.

“There’s a way off?”

She paused at the end of the bridge and turned a little to view him more properly. “Yes. There’s a boat. I’ll have to fix it, but I need to take care of a few things first.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“No. I mean..” She hesitated. “Not by now at least.  have a safe place where you can stay” she offered, shrugging slightly.

She eyed him a little more critically, her mouth pulling into a shrewd, thin line. “Trained fighter or not, I’m not risking a stray bullet hitting you in the head.” Lara crossed her arms at her chest, rolling her eyes. “Besides.” She took a look at his metal hand. “It shoulkd be useful to defend yourself. But you were just standing there, like a child lost in the mist” a sad smile crawled at her rosy lips as she was speaking.

Lara gave a small nod and turned, motioning him to keep following.

“I can help” he pressed insistently. “Please. At least lemme help with something. You saved me.”

“No, you can’t by now.” She said it in such a matter-of-fact tone, it grated on his nerves. He started after her, silence be damned if it meant catching up.

“And how do you know? You don’t know me, or what I can or can’t do. I can do quite a lot. I killed a lot of people..” Bucky growled loudly, streatching his metal fingers.

She glanced at him as he dropped back, his steps faltering until he stopped. “If you could kill, then you would have done so back there. Those men would have been dead before I met up with you. That’s how I know you can’t do what I need to be done by now to get us out of here. It’s kill or be killed on this island. But for now,” she looked around, sighng, “let's get to the hideout. It's gonna rain.”

Chasing the shadow || Part I

Summary: You're Ezio's friend. You meet him for the first time since many years. Words: 1407 Warnings: none  Author: Cass

[Y/F/C] - You favourite color  [Y/H/L] - Your hair length [Y/H/C] - Your hair color [Y/N] - Your name [Y/L/N] - Your last name 

You were living in Rome for a long time now, your parents moved out from Florence when you were 10 years old only. You left everything behind, your whole life, every good person and every friend, including your childhood friend named Ezio.

For a long time you were sending letters to him and he was writing back to you. One day everything has just stopped. You never heard anything from Ezio again and it was sad, it ripped your heart apart. You were close with him,  he was your best friend even if your parents didn’t like him.

You good remembered, how you both were running around streets of Florence, simply enjoying your time of youth, making troubles not once or twice.

You still could remember how sad he was when your parents were living the town with you by their side.

The only thing that has left you was a necklace, that Ezio and his mother had given you before you left Florence for good.

You sighed loudly playing with the jewellery, watching how beautiful Rome was. All those people, beautiful places, shops... It was your home now, a place where you were feeling safe.

Now you were living alone, your parents bought you house in a good district. They made sure, that you had everything that you needed and they were regularly paying you visits, which were a bit annoying for you. You were an adult woman now.

One day you decided to go and make small shopping for the evening. You put on your favorite long, [Y/F/C] dress, than slowly brushed your [Y/H/L], [Y/H/C] hair and looked  at your reflection in the mirror. You looked like a real aristocrat, you only smiled at yourself and quickly grabbed your basket and some of the money.

The weather was nice and the city was calm, like really calm. Guards were walking thought streets, bards were playing happy songs on their instruments (two bards even got some money from you). And finally you found your shops.

Shopping went rather quick, you good knew what you had wanted to buy and how much you had wanted to buy. It never was a problem for you.

During your way back home someone ran into you. It was a man, dressed in white raiment with a hood on. He quickly grabbed your elbow before you fell on the ground. “Mi dispiace veramente, signora”. Man only said, he made sure you are standing still and he continued his runaway.

“Imbecille!” you yelled after him and in the same moment you saw group of guards, they were following the stranger.

You spend whole day sitting on the balcony, thinking about your accidental meeting with the man n the street. You still could see him in your thoughts. He looked like someone strong, someone in hurry, but he remained polite, he probably was dangerous. The hood, guards...

You only shook you head trying to get rid of those thoughts, because suddenly you heard a weird noises  form… Somewhere… You couldn’t really tell, from where they came, but then suddenly you saw the man from the town, but he didn’t look as good as then.

His white raiment was stained with blood, probably his own, he was tired and you could tell this basing on his breath and heavy gasps, that you both could hear. Probably guards got him earlier...

“Where is he?! He for sure went that way!” You could hear guards screams. You looked at weak man and pulled him inside your house, he was even too weak to protest. You quickly closed balcony doors.

“What you did?” You muttered as you laid man on your own bed.

You sat on bed and thought what you can do, then you decided to try to use the knowledge that you had from your friend, who was a doctor.

“I’m sorry, but I have to take it off… At least upper part of your clothes..” You said and slowly tried to take off his hood, but immediately he grabbed both of your hands. “Calm down, no matter who you are, my mouth are silent. I promise.” You said, looking at him. Man only nodded and let you remove his hood off. And you had to say, that he was handsome… Really handsome. You smiled at him softly and started to take care of his wounds. Sometimes he let out a hiss or a quiet moan, but it was all. For most of time he remained silent, being rude enough to look into your cleavage, when he was thinking you weren’t paying attention.

After an hour you sighed softly, than got up from bed. Man slowly sat up. “Grazie, signora.” ”Sei benvenuto, signore. It was nice to help you, but I think you should rest a bit and I’m more than sure you won’t be able to run tonight.” You smiled at man.

He smiled back softly. “I think you are right, signora. May I ask you a question?” You nodded slowly. “Of course, yes?” “Your necklace… Where did you get it?” He asked, watching you carefully. “It’s a gift from a friend.. I got it before I left my home town..” You only said and shrugged, taking necklace into your hand. “Goofing around streets of Florence? Getting into troubles? Spending whole days having fun?” Man asked, smiling at you. “Yes but how… You… Ezio… Ezio Auditore..?” You asked, you were deeply shocked, your eyes were wide and you had no idea, what was exactly happening now.

“One and only… [Y/N]  [Y/L/N]! My beloved friend!” Not paying attention to the pain, he simply got up from bed and took you into his arms, hugging you tight as he only could.

You laughed happily and almost started cry from happiness, right now you realised, how much you were missing him. You sighed and nuzzled to him.

“I missed you so much… I… I’m sorry… Few years after you left, so many things had happened in my life… That… I just lost my contact with you.” He said, still holding you tight in his arms.

You nodded. “It’s okay.” You took his hand and looked at him with tears in your eyes and with a big smile on your face. “We have whole night for each others.” Ezio stroked your cheek and nodded. “You are right.”

Both of you spent whole night at talking. He told you about terrible things that happen to his family and about what he had to do and who he had became. You told him, what was happening with you after you left Florence. You felt sorry for him, so many bad stuff happened to the man, but you were proud of him at the same time.

At morning Ezio put on his raiment and looked at you. “It was nice to see you again. I hope… We won’t lose contact this time…” You giggled and shook your head. “As long as you will find time for me in your busy life.” “Will you patch me up sometimes? It’s better than going to medics… I don’t need to pay.” He shrugged. You only laughed loudly. “Ezio, this house is big as you can see… And I live here alone. I can promise you that… You and your assassins will always find a help and shelter here, I will always be ready to take care of their wounds, give then place to proper rest and feed them with homemade dishes. It will be pleasure for me to help you.” “[Y/N]… I don’t know what to say… Grazie.” He hugged you. “You know… There is one thing that I wanted to do for so long… I wanted to do this before you left, but… We were too young.” You blinked. “But… What do you…”

You were cut off by a kiss, deep and strong one. When man broke the kiss ,you looked at him in shock. Ezio put on his hood and smiled at you briefly. “We will meet later, wait here at me. If something will happen, you know, where my sister and mother are. They will give a shelter to you. See you, bella.” He simply left your house, jumping out of the window.

You watched him for a bit and then you walked back to your bedroom. “Ezio Auditore… You’ve changed so much.” You whispered quietly under your breath, gently touching the necklace on your decolletage.

I Feel You || smut with Reader, Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

Words: 2055

Warnings: SMUT!

Author: Rouge

A/N: Hi. Beast had inspired me to write this little smut and I have to admit it was a great fun for me to write it. Also, I was listening to the song with a nice climate (it's my subjective opinion of course). Schiller - I feel you ♥

That night I went out, trying to get rid of all my problems, trying to forget about them. Plan was simple - get out to have a drink in local bar, maybe dance a bit and then come back to home. And I almost accomplished all things I had on my list. ALMOST. I was sitting at the bar, in my tight black dress I used to wear only for special occasions. But hell, wasn't it a special occasion that I wanted to get drunk to forget about that fucking asshole he used to call himself my boyfriend and who had slept with my best friend? For me it was enough as a reason. I had my red high hills on along with red leather jacket on my shoulders. What? I wanted to look classy. Yes, I can agree that I might look a bit like a cheap slut, but let's be honest - every single girl has something from a slut deep inside. It might be wild fantasies or the way you are dealing with your sexuality, wearing strong makeup or defiant clothes. Sometimes you're doing it subconsciously, sometimes taking all responsibility for that. But yes. You want to look good and to make men lose their heads for you. So did I. When I was drinking my fourth glass of whiskey with cola, I felt someone was watching me. I gently looked around above my shoulder and I saw two men I was not expecting to meet in such place. Steven Grant Rogers and James "Bucky" Barnes. I send them a brief smile and I returned to sipping on my alcohol. I still could feel their eyes on me. Hell, it was kinda... Exciting. I felt how fast I was getting drunk. But suddenly my heart stopped within second. It was when I felt a rough hand on my tight. "I feel you" strong voice whispered straight into my ear. His hot breath hit back of my neck and I shivered slightly, feeling how excitement was growing in me. I bit my lover lip and held my breath for few seconds. Few moments later I felt a pair of heated lips on my neck and I let out a quiet moan. I turned my head a bit to look at my left side. I saw how Bucky was taking seat next to me at the one of high bar chairs. "What are ya doin' here alone, little one?" I heard same voice, which I have heard earlier. I knew it was no one else but Steve Rogers. Captain America himself. "I'm having a nice evening" I smirked. I cursed myself in my thoughts for that statement. It sounded like a confession of a frustrated teenager. "Oh, are ya?" Bucky laughed loudly, finishing his drink and putting his glass on the counter. "It's not a safe place, especially for such a cutie." I looked into his pale blue eyes and gave a little nod. "Maybe. But I'm a brave girl." I saw, how they exchanged glances between each other. Second later I felt Steve's chin on my bare shoulder. It scratched a bit because of his beard. "Mind to end this evening with us?" he asked, ending his sentence by leaving a kiss on my earlobe. "You won't regret it, sweetheart." I didn't want to admit it in front of myself then, but his deep voice, the way he was talking and the touch of his hand on my thigh just made me wet. I only nodded, biting on my lower lip again. "Tell us your name, babe" Bucky reached his metal hand towards me and ran his metal fingers through my hair. "Y/N" I said quietly, almost whispering. "Y/N.... Perfect name for such a cutie.." Steve murmured deeply, his lips still were on the back of my neck.

 "Thanks, boys" I chuckled softly, closing my eyes while I was finishing my whiskey. "You won't ask for our names, huh?" Steve's hand traveled up my thigh and after a while I felt like his fingers have been slipped under satin material of my dress. I hummed lovingly. I good knew he could easily tell by reactions of my body, that I was turned on. All my muscles were tensed at that moment. "I don't have to ask. I know you. Both of you" my voice was nothing more but a whisper. "James Barnes" I looked at Bucky, "and Steve Rogers" I moved my hand to briefly ran my fingers along Steve's hand, which was still resting on my thigh. "Well, well" Bucky smirked, slipping his metal fingers into his hair. "As I see we're recognizable up here, pal" Bucky's blue eyes slided over upper part of my body to stop at Steve's steel one. Cap sighed deeply, I felt the smell of strong cognac on my cheek. "So, how it's gonna be, babygirl?" Bucky leaned over to me and he placed a short kiss on my lips, without any signs of hesitation. I didn't protest at all, just improved my position a bit. I didn't care if anyone was watching. I didn't pay attention to jealous gazes. I didn't want anything else but to go out of the bar and get laid with them. It was my main goal. I gave kiss back, as disjointed as it was. I gasped for air, because Bucky left me breathless after that little kiss. I wanted more. I was a bit drunk. But I didn't care. I grabbed Bucky by a collar of his leather jacket and I pulled him closer to me, then I slowly kissed his hot lips, enjoying the roughness of his beard at my face. I decided to be more like a real coquette, so I let my tongue to be slipped into his mouth boldly, and after his humming I could tell he liked that. At the same time I moaned quietly as I felt strong hand moving up my inner thigh and second later I felt skillful fingers, which were playing with my lacy panties. They have been slipped under material and I had to control myself from groaning. I was still kissing Bucky, my hand has been placed at one of his knees, I had to support my body balance somehow and it was the most effective way to do so. Bucky's tongue was happily dancing with mine as Steve's fingers were making little circles around my yet dripping pussy. When we ended the kiss, I felt Steve's hand on my cheek. He forced me to turn my head to him so he could taste my lips too. His kiss was strong and full of passion. I moaned quietly in his lips when I felt like his fingers have been taken away from my pussy. Steve looked at me and slowly but surely he placed his fingers which he used to play with me into his mouth. Blonde man briefly licked over them, smiling at his friend. "C'mon. Don't waste our time" Bucky winked at Steve and they both got off their chairs. "Shall we, babe?" Bucky glanced at me. He didn't have to repeat twice. "Sure" I also got up and took my little bag from the counter. "Lead the way, guys."

The air was stifling. Sweltering. Hazy with the aura of sex. The frenzied gagging, slapping, and squelching along with animalistic growls, deep groans and hoarse mewls resonated deafeningly through the otherwise silent compound. The scent of my flowing arousal and the sounds of our carnal lust overflowed from the confines of the room’s four walls; anyone on this side of the building would all but see our frantic coupling. My skin was damp. Dewy. Saturated with moisture from my own body as well as the two frames I was crushed between. Saliva, sweat and slick. Perspiration dripped from the hair that hung over Steve’s forehead. It ran down Bucky’s neck, trickling through every crevice of his chiseled chest and abdomen. With every push and pull, their fluids fell to mingle with my own. Spittle was forced from my mouth with each plunge of Steve’s length into my mouth. His hand clamped firmly onto the back of my neck, and every time he pushed himself into my throat, more cascaded down my chin and neck. Bucky’s thick shaft drove into me at a turbulent pace as his metal fingers rolled my clit, and my pleasure seeped down my thighs. The pain was present. Perfect. Clouding my mind and overwhelming my senses. The effort to keep from being choked on Steve’s member stole my breath. Bucky’s girth stretched my walls and ground deep against my cervix, making my body thrash each time he sunk himself fully inside me. Each powerful drive of his hips forced me into Steve, nearly strangling me on his cock. Their grips were unforgiving. Both of Steve’s hands fisted my hair. Bucky’s fingers dug into my shoulder. My roots strained and bruises formed on my skin as they played tug of war with my body. It was so much. But not enough. It was never enough. The end was furious. Ferocious. Bucky and Steve dragging me with them as they ravenously chased the gratification of their insatiable hunger. Steve achieved his high first. His heaving breaths became strained warnings. “Ah… ah, fuck! I’m gonna cum.. Shit! Shit, oh God…!” His cock throbbed against my tongue and released spurt after spurt of thick cum down my throat. He slumped forward, one bulging arm supporting his weight, and his other hand held my neck unrelentingly until I had swallowed all he had given me. “Shit! Good girl. Such a good, good girl..” he groaned as he continued to convulse above me. Finally he fell back onto his haunches, although his fingers remained in my hair, stroking gently as I gasped for air. The moans now fell unrestricted from my lips as Bucky neared his end, his thrusts becoming more savage. “Buck, flip her over.” Bucky ignored him momentarily, his head falling backward as he gripped my hips and pulled me back onto his length mercilessly. My arms came out from under me. “Bucky. TURN HER OVER” Captain Rogers commanded again. A feral growl ripped from Bucky’s throat as he wrenched himself from me. He stepped off the bed and yanked me to the edge by my ankle, leaving yet another bruise. Before I could draw another breath I was rolled onto my back with my legs hooked over Bucky’s forearms. He grasped my hips, burying himself deep inside my pulsating cunt. He was close. The brutal snaps of his hips became erratic, his eyes squeezed closed and his mouth fell open. Steve fell beside me. His fingers went to my bundle of nerves, pinching, rolling, circling. His beautiful lips pulled my nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting. My back arched off the bed and every muscle contracted. Bucky moaned in response. “Oh God… Hell… Fuck, fuck babe!” His guttural cries and his hot release spilling into me were enough. I lost myself to the ecstasy, screaming both their names for anyone to hear. "Bucky! Steve!" I was only able to cry their names, desperately. Steve slid his fingers into my clenching cunt and drew every last euphoric tremor from my body as Bucky continued to pulse within me. I shuddered one final time as they both slipped from me, leaving me empty but completely fulfilled. My eyes languidly drifted closed as Steve pulled my lips to his own. He brushed his fingers over my cheek as he softly brought me back to reality. Bucky fell to his knees at the foot of the bed. His thumbs danced over my hip bones and he placed faint kisses across my stomach as he knelt there, thanking me. I basked in the satisfied exhaustion, relishing in their caresses. I felt Steve move behind me, and I hummed as he hoisted me up, resting my back against his hard chest. My head lolled to the side and his tongue trailed up my neck. Hot breath blew over my dripping folds before Bucky’s teeth nipped at my inner thigh, scratching my smooth skin with his rough beard.

 I closed my eyes, smiling softly.

 I knew it will be a long night. And fuck. I have wanted it to last forever.