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Despite what Steve thought, the first time that Sam met Bucky Barnes was not when he had his metal arm trapped in a vice grip after going full Winter Soldier mode.
The first time they’d met had been quite a while before that–and, at least on Sam’s part, it wasn’t willingly.
It was almost two years ago now since they’d met, and Sam still considered that moment one of the defining ones of his life. Sam had only been searching around Europe for Bucky for about a month or so when the asshole decided to make an appearance.
Instead of just showing his face and disappearing back into the shadows or killing Sam instantly, he did something else; something much more…unexpected.
“Falcon,” Barnes murmured, standing menacingly at the edge of Sam’s hotel room bed. “Why are you following me?”
“I’m just trying to help you, man,” Sam pleaded, still startled from Barnes’ sudden appearance. “Me and Steve, we’re just trying to–.”
“I don’t know Steve,” Barnes spat, turning his gaze to face the floor. “And I don’t know you.”
“You can trust me, Barnes,” Sam watched as the man in front of him flinched at the name. “I’m here to help you.”
Barnes’ expression shifted as though he was thinking. After a moment, he looked up from the floor–staring at Sam with hooded eyes and a small grin.
“You can't help me with that,” Barnes whispered, planting his hands on the mattress beside either side of Sam as he crawled into his lap. “But you can help me with something else…”
Sam wasn’t proud of what happened next, but what else are you supposed to do when you’ve got a lap full of Winter Soldier staring into your eyes like he wants to eat you right up; and when Barnes pinned him down to the bed as he rode him like a goddamn professional, how was Sam supposed to resist?
It didn’t stop after that, actually–it became a habit of sorts. Sam would keep travelling around the globe and, once a month or so, Barnes–or Bucky now that they were…close–would find him.
They’d gotten up to all sorts of sexual escapades over the two years that Bucky was in hiding. Sam had only been with a few men before Bucky, and every time he’d been the one being fucked–but it was different with Bucky.
Bucky didn’t like being on top, or maybe he did–Sam didn’t know. All he knew was that Bucky was the one calling the shots in their…relationship, and what Bucky wanted was to be fucked.
It didn’t matter which way it was, whether it was slow and sweet or hot and heavy–Bucky revealed in the feeling either way. Sam enjoyed it too, he loved seeing Bucky overwhelmed by pleasure as he begged Sam to keep fucking him.
It was a strange situation that Sam never expected he’d end up in–but he was somewhat glad he did. He liked Bucky, despite his odd and sometimes terrifying nature. The guy was nice–and a damn good lay.
But God could he be annoying sometimes. Like now, when he was talking to Steve in a quiet, raspy voice whilst looking directly at Sam.
Bucky had told Sam about the trigger words and the book that they were in when he was resting his head against Sam’s chest after one of their ‘reunions’.
“They can make me do anything,” Bucky had said, tracing shapes into the skin of Sam’s stomach. “And I’d never be able to stop it.”
Sam had held Bucky close to his chest that night, silently promising to keep him safe the best he could. Unfortunately, when it came down to it–Sam couldn’t protect him.
“So just like that we're supposed to be cool?” Sam said, trying to come off as genuine as possible.
He could see Bucky smirk out of the corner of his eyes, an action that Sam chose to ignore.
“You don’t have to trust him, Sam,” Steve replied, looking at Sam with a desperate expression. “But, please, he needs our help.”
Steve didn’t know, but Sam would lay his life down to keep Bucky safe–and he’d like to think that Bucky would do the same. Sam sighed, nodding slowly in response and trying not to glance over at Bucky to see his reaction.
Steve thanked him, telling Sam and Bucky that he was going to head out for a bit to find some sort of transport and clear his mind. It only took a few seconds before Sam was rushing over to where Bucky was, not caring that he was leaning down on the cold, filthy floor of the warehouse.
“Can’t believe you’re wearing my goddamn shirt.” Sam mumbled, holding back a smile in response to Bucky’s chuckle.
Sam had been looking for that red Henley for months–Lord knows why he didn’t immediately assume the asshole he was somewhat regularly hooking up with stole it for himself. It didn’t matter now, the shirt looked better on Bucky anyways; mostly because it was obscenely tight, hugging Bucky’s protruding muscles like it was painted on.
“Nice to see you too, Sweetheart,” Bucky breathed out, a lazy smile on his face. “Thought you forgot about me for a second.”
“Impossible,” Sam chuckled, cupping the right side of Bucky’s face in his hand and watching as he leaned into the touch. “I couldn’t forget about you even if I wanted to.”
“Wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to,” Bucky grumbled, pulling Sam closer to him and lulling his head to the side. “This is, what, the second time I’ve tried to kill you now? Third?”
“That wasn’t you, Buck,” Sam sighed, gently settling down atop of Bucky’s denim–clad thigh. “I know you didn’t mean to.”
Bucky hummed, pressing his lips to the curve of Sam’s neck and wincing slightly when he accidentally tugged on his still trapped metal arm in the process.
“Want me to get you out of that?,” Sam offered. “I know it can’t be comfortable.”
Bucky nodded, watching as Sam stood up from his lap and used all of his strength to pry the heavy weight up off his arm. Bucky immediately pulled his arm away, twisting it and watching as the metal plates rippled like water.
“I know you felt that,” Sam said, sitting back down on the floor and wrapping his fingers around Bucky’s. “Why didn’t you say something? Steve could’ve gotten you out much sooner if you did.”
“‘S not that bad.” Bucky sniffed, leaning his head forward and resting it against Sam’s chest.
The brief moment they shared together alone in the warehouse wasn’t much, but it felt like everything Sam needed to ease his mind. He hated seeing Bucky in distress, especially when he was being forced into something against his will.
By the time Steve returned to the warehouse, Sam and Bucky had long since separated. Steve didn’t question why Bucky was sitting atop of the crate rather than by the side of it or why Sam’s jeans were now stained with dirt around the knee area–a fact that Sam was grateful for.
The ‘vehicle’ that Steve had found turned out to be a far too small blue beetle–one that was definitely not big enough to fit three men of their sizes.
Sam wasn’t too bothered about it, he liked having Bucky in as close proximity to him at all times–but, God, did that car start to feel claustrophobic after a while. Especially with Steve jittery nerves putting everyone on edge.
It wasn’t long before the sun started to set and the day came to a close. Steve pulled off the road and stopped at some small, run down cabin–claiming it was one of Shields many safe houses.
“This place is worse than Hydra’s bases, Steve,” Bucky complained, eyeing the ratty couch in the middle of the living room. “Are you sure it’s…safe?”
Sam suppressed a chuckle as Steve frowned. “I know it’s not great, Buck, but it’s all I’ve got.”
Bucky sighed, glancing around the room. “There’s at least more than one bed, right?”
“Heh, about that…” Steve chuckled awkwardly, ignoring Bucky's groan of protest.
“I thought you and Sam could take the bed whilst I stayed on the couch. It’ll be more comfortable for you both that way.” Steve, ever the gentleman, smiled kindly–clearly not noticing the flash of arousal that clouded Bucky’s eyes.
“As long as he keeps his hands to himself, that should be fine.” Sam grumbled, fanning annoyance.
Even though Bucky wasn’t visibly smirking, Sam could tell that he was trying his very best not too. Lord knows that even if the house did have three separate rooms Bucky would still find a way to sneak into Sam’s in the middle of the night to get his fill.
Whether his insatiable lust was due to the serum or just because Bucky was like that–Sam didn’t know; truly, he didn’t really care. Bucky wasn’t the only one who benefited from their sexual relationship.
Steve left them to their own devices shortly after that, passing out quickly on the couch–probably exhausted from the day. Bucky was sitting comfortably on the bed, staring at something on Sam’s phone with his brows furrowed.
“What are you lookin’ at?” Sam asked, glancing over that Bucky from across the room.
“Do people really think I’m…like this?” Bucky murmured, gesturing to the article he’d been reading on Sam’s phone.
The article was something about the attack in Vienna, talking about how no one on the globe was safe until Bucky was in government custody.
“They don’t understand,” Sam whispered, taking the phone from Bucky’s hands and settling down beside him on the bed. “You didn’t do it, and even if you did–it wouldn’t have been willingly. They don't understand you, but I do.”
Sam gently attached their lips, smiling at the happy sound that Bucky let out. Their relationship was a difficult one–Sam wouldn’t say they were dating, hell, he wouldn’t even say they were friends, but he cared deeply for Bucky; maybe more than he’d ever cared for anyone before.
When they were together, everything just fitted. Sam felt like he’d known Bucky his whole life, that he’d longed for Bucky his whole life; and maybe he had. All those years he spent wishing for love, longing for someone to call his own–maybe those feelings had been there because he hadn’t met Bucky yet.
“I want them to trust me,” Bucky whispered, his voice shaking as he pulled away from the kiss. “I want you to trust me.”
“I do,” Sam assured, pressing his forehead against Bucky’s and looking deeply into his eyes. With all my heart. “I trust you.”
Bucky whimpered slightly at Sam’s words, crawling towards him and attaching their lips once again. Bucky made a quick move of deepening the kiss–and Sam let him; he always let Bucky take the lead, making sure that he knew he was one hundred percent in charge.
“God, Darlin’,” Bucky murmured against Sam’s lips, straddling his waist and grinding his hips down. “I’ve been waiting for you–feels like ‘s been years since I had you inside of me…”
“It’s only been three weeks.” Sam chuckled, grabbing onto Bucky’s hips as the man on top of him began working on his belt.
“Too fuckin’ long.”
Bucky quickly striped Sam out of his jeans, pulling his own shirt and pants off and silently gesturing for Sam to do the same. They were always rushed whenever they had sex–if it were Sam’s choice, he’d lay Bucky down against the pristine sheets and fuck him slowly and carefully until he was sobbing with pleasure, just like he deserved.
But it wasn’t Sam's choice, not really. It was Bucky’s, and Bucky didn’t like it slow–he liked it hard and fast, just wanting to let Sam fuck him until he couldn’t move or think anymore. Not that Sam was against any of that, but he wished they could do something more intimate for once.
“I wanna try a new position.” Bucky murmured, leaning down and biting at Sam’s neck.
“Really?,” Sam asked, grabbing at Bucky’s hips and holding back a moan. “Thought we’d have tried them all by now.”
“Not all of them,” Bucky smirked, sitting up on Sam’s lap. “I saw this new one in a movie, thought it’d be pretty sexy.”
“You been watching dirty movies, baby?,” Sam spoke, watching as Bucky nodded with dark eyes. “How the hell did you come across one of those?”
“It was on the tv,” Bucky replied, shrugging. “I only kept watching it for inspiration, didn’t even get hard. No one but you turns me on.”
Sam groaned at Bucky’s words, grabbing onto him tighter. “God, baby. Show me what you’ve learned.”
Bucky smirked, looking down at Sam for a moment before shifting. He rearranged his body so that he was facing away from Sam, still straddling his waist. Bucky placed his hands on Sam’s bare thighs, glancing back to him over his shoulder as his long dark hair covered half of his face.
“Like this.” Bucky breathed out, his eyes shining with lust.
“Jesus.” Bucky looked good when he was laid out against the sheets or on his hands and knees, but he was something else entirely when he was atop of Sam.
He looked heavenly, like one of the paintings in the Sistine Chapel, and Sam wished he could take a picture of him–have a permanent reminder of Bucky’s beauty.
“Good, right?” Bucky smirked, wiggling his hips against Sam’s.
“Definitely,” Sam breathed out, running one of his hands over the thin cloth covering Bucky’s ass. “Definitely good.”
Bucky smiled before quickly leaning off the side of the bed, rummaging around his discarded jeans and pulling a small packet of lube out of one of the pockets. He didn’t seem to have a condom on standby, but that wasn’t strange–Bucky usually preferred not to use protection.
“Did you seriously have that in your pocket the whole time?” Sam asked, taking the lube from Bucky’s hand and ripping it open.
“You know I’m always prepared, sweetheart.” Bucky’s voice had a slight hitch to it as Sam pulled the back of his boxers down, running a slick finger over his rim.
Bucky was right when he suggested this position, it was incredibly sexy. Sam could see every small movement of Bucky’s hole as he slipped his index finger inside.
When they usually fucked, Sam couldn’t see much of anything. Bucky wasn’t exactly a small man, so his body took up most of Sam’s line of sight–leaving him unable to see his dick moving in and out of Bucky’s tight heat. Like this though, Sam could see everything.
“Sam,” Bucky moaned, arching his back and pushing against Sam’s finger. “Come on, give me more.”
“Quiet, baby,” Sam murmured, sliding another finger inside of Bucky beside the first. “You’ll wake up Steve if you’re any louder.”
“I don’t care,” Bucky groaned, grasping onto Sam’s thighs harder and gasping out in pleasure when Sam curled his fingers in just the right way. “Let him hear.”
“I see the way he looks at you,” Bucky continued, growling. “He wants you, wants to bend you over and fuck you–he wouldn’t treat you the way you deserve. Not like I do. You’re mine, he needs to learn that.”
Sam threw his head back against the mattress, slipping his fingers free of Bucky and immediately reaching down to pull out his cock. Sam tried to take the lead for a moment, but Bucky’s shut him down–barely giving Sam a moment to slick himself up before reaching to hold the base of Sam’s length so he could ease himself down onto it.
“Jesus, Bucky,” Sam groaned, grabbing Bucky’s hips intensely. “That mouth on you.”
“Sam,” Bucky whined, throwing his head back and grinding down on Sam’s cock. “You feel so good, so big–‘s like you were made to be inside me.”
Sam gasped in response, his gaze fixated on where his cock was moving in and out of Bucky. It was truly a sight to behold, with Bucky’s back muscles rippling as his pale, perky ass bounced up and down on him like it was the only thing he knew how to do.
Bucky didn’t ease his movements for even a moment, bouncing and grinding relentlessly as Sam tried, and failed, to keep up. After a few minutes of enduring Bucky’s relentless pace, Sam rose up from the mattress–wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist and halting his movements.
“What the hell, Sam?,” Bucky huffed, glaring at Sam over his shoulder. “I was getting close, you asshole.”
“You’ve gotta slow down a bit, baby,” Sam breathed out, gently pressing his lips to the back of Bucky’s neck. “You’re gonna tear your ass in half if you keep moving the way you are–or break my dick off.”
Bucky was just about to start raving in protest but Sam quickly began moving again, turning any words in his mouth to pleasured moans. Sam gripped Bucky’s hip with one of his hands and held his chest with the other, keeping his movements slow but hard.
Bucky quickly got back into the swing of things, resting the back of his head against Sam’s shoulder whilst his cock leaked like a broken tap against his flat abdomen. Sam knew better than to touch Bucky, knowing that he always liked to come from just Sam’s cock.
“Just a little more, Sammy,” Bucky moaned, grasping at Sam’s thighs. “I’m so close.”
It didn’t take Bucky long to come after that, spilling his seed all over his abs with a gasp. Sam followed shortly after, his hips stuttering as he buried his come inside of Bucky.
Sam heard a breathless laugh force its way out of Bucky’s throat as the man atop of him lulled his head against Sam’s shoulder like a ragdoll.
“Do you think we were loud enough?” Bucky asked, looking into Sam’s eyes with a cheeky smirk.
Sam shoved Bucky off him, revealing in the way Bucky gasped when his cock rammed against his prostate one last time before it slipped free. “You’re real funny, aren’t you?”
“Mhm–hmm.” Bucky hummed, curving his back to show off Sam’s come leaking out of his ass.
Sam felt his breath hitch at the sight as he had to restrain himself from leaning forward and lapping the fluid up. Instead, Sam gave Bucky’s ass a firm slap–one that caused him to yelp far too loudly–and rose up off the bed.
Sam tucked himself back into his boxers before heading towards the en suite that was attached to the bedroom. He glanced over his shoulder for a moment just to see what Bucky was doing–unsurprised when he saw the man laying on his back with his head at the edge of the bed and his feet atop of the pillow. Gross.
“You seriously just gonna lay there?” Sam asked, dampening the edge of the bathroom's hand towel in the sling before walking back towards the bed.
“I can’t move,” Bucky groaned, looking up at Sam with mischievous eyes. “You’ve fucked it out of me.”
Sam rolled his eyes, pushing Bucky over so that he was laying on his front and gently cleaning up any of the excess come that was painting his thighs and ass.
”You’re so gentle,” Bucky murmured against the mattress. “I’ve missed your touch. ‘S the only gentle thing I’ve felt in seventy years…”
Sam carefully stroked down Bucky’s back, tracing the plethora of scars that painted his skin. Bucky was usually like this after sex, he always got so tender and sweet–and Sam loved it every time.
Bucky had been through hell a thousand times over, he deserved to be taken care of. Sam was more than happy to give him the kindness he deserved–was happy to hold Bucky in his arms and kiss away his tears when it all felt like too much.
He wanted so desperately to do just that when Bucky was trapped in that God awful cage after he’d been arrested. Sam had seen something in Bucky’s eyes, after the therapist had said the trigger words, when Bucky–or the Winter Soldier–lifted him by the jaw and threw him across the room.
There was a moment of hesitation, when he and Bucky made eye contact, that told Sam that even though Bucky had no control over his mind in that moment–a part of him still recognised Sam and didn’t want to hurt him.
Sam reached towards Bucky, guiding him to lay down by his side. Bucky went without protest, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist and resting his head on Sam’s chest.
“I’ll always be gentle with you,” Sam whispered, running a hand through Bucky’s hair. “Because that’s what you deserve.”
Bucky didn’t reply to that, instead intertwining his fingers with Sam’s and squeezing tightly. It was a silent gesture, one that said I’m here for you, I love you–and Sam felt the same.
They weren’t safe now, and they wouldn’t be for a while–but Sam knew that, no matter what, they’d have each other; and nothing would change that. Ever.